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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Natasha Romanoff - good 4 u

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. 1.5k.

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of blackmail, breakup angst, mentions of bad therapy.

Thankfully, Natasha is wandering around outside, eating peanut butter bites, when Wanda and I are done.

“Nice song,” she comments easily.

I snap my head to her, “What? You heard?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, eating another peanut butter bite, “I’ve been out here for ages. I thought you might need me.”

“Well, conveniently, I do right now.”

“Cool,” says Nat, and she sashays into the room before I can even re-fluff the cushions or plug my guitar in. “What are you gonna sing me?”

“Hopefully the breakup anthem of the year, but that’s up to you.”

A playful smirk toys on her painted lips, a sultry undertone to her words. “Well now I’m excited.”

I keep her in my peripheral vision, sipping a fresh cup of tea she’s just poured as she nibbles on a peanut butter bite, lounging back on the sofa with an almost sensual ease. I have to try three times before getting the wire into my guitar. I tune it up on the speaker, and tune again after not having played my guitar for a few songs, but when I’m ready, so is Natasha; eager, almost.

I debated a dozen times over putting this in F# minor, but nothing else seemed right, especially based off the bassline that begins this piece and carries throughout, almost a walking bass. After plucking the first C#, I wince. The reverb is all wrong. I’m surprised at Natasha’s patience while I readjust, but she’s at full attention when I recommence with a quaver and semiquaver bass idea. C#, F#, F#, F#, E. C#, F#, F#, F#, E.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?’

She was appalled to see the new girl. “She’s a rip off you! Look at her hair, oh my God…” I couldn’t help but laugh at her blatant appal, even in the worst times when she came to me with the first instalment of pictures, the original news. I’m glad she was the one to break it to me, as I don’t think I could’ve handled that from anyone else, even if I already knew deep down.

Aunty Nat told me to only go for a boy I thought could give me the world: no one could’ve guessed that’d be my downfall, and despite her reservations, she didn’t think he’d be a liar and not even give me an increment of what he promised. She said she’d find me a man who could, and good for her, she needs to look no further.

‘And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself

I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped,

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl.’

I gave him Steve’s number and feel no remorse over it. He went to one session, and Steve made him cry: we don’t speak about it. He went to another with Bucky’s crap old therapist who taunted him constantly… It's safe to say, from Bucky’s spying in sessions where he constantly compared me to his new girlfriend, she was just as bad a therapist for him, not that he deserved much else. Her sympathy was nonexistent: Natasha smirks, and begins to bop her head as the beat picks up at the chorus.

‘Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask.

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby

God, I wish that I could do that.’

Natasha’s smiling now, beaming with a toothy grin, perhaps at the level of painful truth in my lyrics, or maybe at the unexpected growl my voice takes in the last line. Surprise flashes over her face, I’m glad to see: it’s not often you can catch an elite Russian spy by surprise.

She nursed me secretly back to health and joy after so many expected me to be ok: not that anyone asked.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want

You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off

It's like we never even happened,’

I mean my career’s great, and I have everything I want back now, but he doesn’t have to know that: I’m okay despite him, he’s ‘successful’ because of me. I got a new car, not that I bought it. My dad got me one: I trial all of his new cars to see if they’re nice drives before he tinkers around with them, and take Nat for spins in them since her driving in normal cars and not on high speed chases is less than adequate. We find songs like these to belt throughout the journey, but I don’t think we ever anticipated this to happen, that I’d be writing our next car karaoke song, but Nat is now bopping her head, her ginger hair flying everywhere, only for it to stop abruptly, plastered over her head, when my guitar playing stops for an unaccompanied line.

‘Baby, what the fuck is up with that?’

I’m shocked when Natasha makes a loud cheer, as though she’s at a concert, but I’m not complaining. She always works wonders on my confidence. Next thing I know, her tea is pushed aside and she’s looking riveted, on the edge of her seat as my melody speeds up, and my face becomes more animated.

‘Remember when you swore to God I was the only

Person who ever got you?

Well, screw that and screw you!’

Natasha’s standing, now, for a very powerful, almost shouted last line that gives me more catharsis than I’ve felt in a very long time. It’s good to scream: not about the heartbreak, but about the anger of everything. I thought it had subsided, but I guess not if I can pack so much emotion into a song that even Natasha is up and celebrating with me, feeling the power simultaneously.

‘You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do!’

I’m standing for this last line of the verse, stomping my feet on the final two perfectly enunciated syllables, and I begin to jam in the chorus, my whole body moving with the power of my strums, the reverb shaking the room as Natasha jumps up and down.

‘I've lost my mind, I've spent the night

Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

But I guess good for you.’

She lay with me while I cried in the bathroom night after night, no words, just silence, until I got over it. Now I’m the unaffected one—good for me.

At the end of the second chorus, I notice Natasha vibing, even singing some lines with me. she ‘s picked up on it pretty easily. I used ‘good 4 u’ as the title, because that’s what Natasha wrote when she emailed him the pictures from an anonymous account, taunting him with the fact his secret was discovered so shortly after our breakup. She’s coined the phrase, I just hope she lets me use it.

I hit a guitar riff to go with the head-voice vocalisation to pave the gap between the chorus and bridge. I repeat the bridge, though, the second time feeling and tasting the true venomous bitterness in my words. Nat shies away a little, but keeps listening intently.

‘Maybe I'm too emotional

But your apathy's like a wound in salt.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at aaaaall.’

The guitar part hollows out, as I broach the final chorus, nervous at Nat’s reaction, anticipating my voice to break on the high note. I gulp down as much air as I can.

‘Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me

If you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby, woahhhhh.’

One final aggressively passionate chorus nearly brings me to my knees, but I bare it, and can’t help but feel my belly do flips at the glee written in every line of Natasha's body. She’s actually enjoying this, her reaction isn't just sympathetic. And that’s what gives me the courage to strum my final chords.

‘Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.’

Natasha barely waits for me to wrestle the guitar from around my body before she’s barrelling towards me and knocking me to the ground in a bear hug. I don’t quite know how to react… She's one of the least affectionate people I’ve ever met. Feebly, and I suppose more on instinct than anything else, I pat her back with one hand and stroke her hair with the other all the while desperately trying to gulp down air back into my lungs.

“I love it. It’s incredible, brilliant,” she gushes, and plants a kiss on one burning cheek. “Definitely a hit. Who knew you were so badass?”

I turn to her with a deadpan face. “I’ve been an avenger for almost half my life, and you’re only just noticing my badass-ness?”

She rolls her eyes, saying, “I just mean I never knew you could write such powerful words and sing with such power. You’re like Taylor on Reputation just ten times angrier.”

“Well I’ll take a Taylor comparison any day,” I giggle.

She takes a deep breath, and holding my face in her hands, tells me whole-heartedly, “Bean, you’re an absolute star.”

#ann's 3k sour blurb event #natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x hawkeye #black widow imagine #natasha romanova x reader #natasha romanova imagine #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanova blurb

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marleyrose17 · 3 years

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Almost Paradise ( Owen Patrick Joyner Fic )

Hey everyone! This story is gonna be a Owen Patrick Joyner story and I will be pairing the reader with Owen, so I’ll put Y/N anytime the main character is mentioned or is talking. This is my first story since high school so please bear with me as the writing will slowly become better the more I write. I hope all you fellow Owen simps like myself like this story. FYI this story takes place if COVID 19 never existed. Please check out my best friend Sydney ( @imsydneywalker) for cute Charlie Fics. Love Yall.

Summary: Y/N just turned 22 and decided to make a spontaneous trip to L.A California USA from Dieppe,New Brunswick, Canada to visit her best friend Charlie Gillespie for her 22nd birthday present to herself. He doesn’t know she’s coming, hence the surprise. But little does she know would she get a little surprise of her own on her way to America.

Chapter 1: Someday

House outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2814065

*Week before Reader’s birthday* 2021

Y/N’s thoughts: It has been forever since I’ve last seen my best friend Charles Jeffrey Gillespie or how I like to call him Arlo *as I hold onto the necklace he gave me for my 15th birthday*. Weird nickname I know, but I’ve been calling him that since kindergarten and I’m not changing it. It’s almost my 22nd birthday so I felt like I should treat myself to a present of seeing my best friend for a little while. Momma bear doesn’t know yet but I don’t think she’ll care as much since she loves Charlie as one of her own kids, so just taking a trip cross country shouldn’t be too hard to tell her. Right? Let’s find out.

*Y/N walks down to the kitchen from her bedroom*

“Hey mami,” Y/N says as she sits on one of the barstools, popping a green grape and dipping it into nutella into her mouth.

“Yes Y/N nickname?” Y/N’s mom says in a what do you want tone, while finishing cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“I already know you want something. You never come back downstairs after dinner unless you’re getting a snack or you want something. I’m your mother, remember.”

“Damn, that predictable huh? Anyways, yes I wanted to ask you something or more like tell you something. So I was thinking for my 22nd birthday I could possibly fly down to America and see your adopted son for a couple weeks. You know I’ve been wanting to move down to L.A so why not go for my birthday. I’d obviously stay at Arlo’s, money shouldn’t be an issue since I’ve been saving plus birthday money from past years. Sooo?” Y/N finishes saying while looking at her mom with puppy eyes.

“You already bought your plane ticket didn’t you?” your mom says while staring at you with one eyebrow raised.

“.... maybe…. no actually, I wanted to see what you’d say first before splurging.” Y/N says while looking down at the bowl of grapes and looks up again to smile cheeky at her mom.

Your mom rolls her eyes and laughs. “ Sure, why not. Do you want me to call Maman J so she can tell Charlie?” your mom asks.

“No no, I want it to be a surprise. It’s kind of a birthday present to myself since Arlo decided to be like “ I wanna be an actor and blah blah blah”. You say mimicking him.

“Alright, well as an early birthday present, I’ll buy your ticket. Should I make it a round trip or a one way?”

“Ummm make it a one way trip, I’ll let you know when I want to come home. You know Arlo, he always has some random hiking trip he wants to take, and knowing him he might drag me to one of those trips” you say rolling your eyes.

“No problem. You better go upstairs and start packing.” your mom says.

*You dip one last green grape into nutella and pop it into your mouth before you hop off the bar stool to give your mom a kiss* “You’re the best mami!”

*You run back to your room and start planning the whole trip*

*5:30pm One day before reader’s birthday and your flight*

*you're sitting on your bed finishing up some last minute packing, when you hear a knock at your door.*

“Come in.” Y/N says without turning around.

“Hey hun.” your mom says.

*you turn around to face your mom* “Hey mami, whats up?” *you say while sitting on top of your luggage trying to close it*

Your mom chuckles, “Here is your plane ticket for your flight, it's at 5:55am, you have a connecting flight to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma which will have a connecting flight to L.A.X.”, your mom says handing you the tickets. “So you better finish packing and get some rest.”

*You reach for the tickets while trying not to fall of your luggage* “Awesome, thanks mami.”

“No problem, just get some rest ok. I will drive you to the airport.” your mom says while walking out of your room.

“Ok!” you yell through the door. *You finally got the luggage to close* “YES!” you say standing up on the edge of your bed but then proceed to fall off your bed in the process which leads to a loud thud hitting the floor. “I’M OK!” you yell before your mom asks.

You place your luggages and carry ons by your door and start getting ready for bed. You look into the mirror one last time and stare at the picture of you and Charlie at the waterfront, ( https://www.instagram.com/p/B-suC_WF8Cu/) ( just pretend its yall, I know its like his cousin or friend)

“L.A.X I’ll see you tomorrow.” you say to yourself before walking to bed.

*Reader’s birthday* 3:00am

Airport Outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2813992 (girl on the left is what your hair looks like)

*your phone goes off at 3:00 am with the song I See Fire by Ed Sheeran playing from your phone softly.*

*You groan annoyingly wondering why you’re up so early, when you realize it is your 22nd birthday and you have a flight to catch in two hours. You spring out of bed, pop your airpods in and blair The OtherSide from The Greatest Showman and begin getting ready for your long day of flying*

*Dancing towards your bathroom, you turn on your shower to warm up and start brushing your teeth. You lay out the outfit you will be wearing to the airport on your bed, take out your headphones and head into the shower.*

*20 mins later. You hear a knock on your bathroom door*

“Almost done sweetie?” your mom asks.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up, I’ll be down soon.” you say through the door.

*Because you’re going to the airport you didn’t put too much makeup on, just enough to make yourself look kind of awake on the flights. You put your hair in a messy bun, put on your jean jacket, take one last look in the mirror before you shut off the light and head out.*

*You look around your room to make sure you grab any last minute items for your carry on. Especially making sure you have your Beats, charger, spare hair elastics and gum. You go to grab your luggage when you realize your mom already did and placed them in the car. Best mom ever. You grab your guitar case and your bag and head out.*

*Skip the car ride, you’re already at the airport*

“You’re sure you have everything right?” your mom asks while taking the stuff out of the car.

“Yes, I promise, I have everything I need. If I forgot anything important I will call you and have it shipped to Arlo’s.” you say while closing the trunk of the car.

“Alright, have a safe trip hun, please be safe and try not to get Charlie in too much trouble ok?” your mom says while hugging you goodbye.

*GASP* “ HEY! I’m a good noodle, Arlo’s the one who dared me to jump in the fountain at the mall. You know me I could never pass up a good dare.” you say while breaking the hug.

“Haha, yes I know which leads you to getting sick. Remember, it was winter.” your mom retorts back.

“ Yeah yeah I know, I’m still a good noodle though.” You chuckle while grabbing your stuff again.

Your mom shakes her head, “Go before you miss your flight silly.” She says while turning you around.

“Ok, ok I get it you want me gone.” You say laughing while walking towards the automatic doors.

“OH SWEETIE!” your mom calls out.

You turn around. “Yes?” you ask

“Happy Birthday!” your mom yells in front of everybody.

You stare at her like really. “Thanks mami. I love you too”

*You walk inside the airport and walk towards the check in line to check in all your luggages.*

*Skip to you’re already on the plane before take off.*

*You check your phone for the time, plug in your Beats, place them on and hit shuffle before. You look out the window watching the sun just barely starting to rise before you close it and begin to read your book, for the next 4 hours.*

*4 hours later*

*You finish up one of your books, you pull off your headphones just in time to hear the pilot announce that you guys are about to land. You place your book and headphones back into your bag and prepare to land.*

* You get off the plane and check the time on your phone to notice that your connecting flight is almost here and you begin to panic. You check your ticket and realize that of course your flight is on the other end of the terminal, so you begin to run and book it to the other end, hoping you’ll make it on time.*

“Excuse me! Sorry! Sorry! Excuse me!” you say as you weave through airport traffic.

*Half way through your running spree you look down at your phone again to make sure you didn’t miss your flight when you feel your arm get tugged from behind you. You notice one of yours and someone else’s luggage clipped each other by the wheels and they both go flying. “Sorry, my bad.” you say as you grab a luggage, not even looking up to see who you collided with and go back to your sprinting.*

“Yes!” you say to yourself as you make it to your gate. The flight hasn’t boarded yet so you take a seat and wait for your row to be called. You get to your gate, hand the lady your ticket and proceed to board your flight.

*You place your carry-on luggage into the overhead bin and take your seat, when you notice a very sweaty guy just barely making it onto the flight. You chuckle to yourself.*

*3 hours later*

“Alright passengers, we will be landing very shortly. The weather today is 89 degrees, partly cloudy, and 40% of humidity. Welcome to Los Angeles, California passengers.” the pilot announces over the intercom.

*You place your headphones back on, and calmly this time walk off the plane and head towards baggage claim*

*As you’re waiting your favorite song Someday by Max Schneider starts to play. You begin to sway back and forth, humming to the tune when you then feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see who it was and begin to stare at him weirdly wondering why you can’t hear the guy talk*

“Oh shit, my bad. Forgot.” you say as you take off your headphones to actually hear what the guy was saying.

“It's cool, all I was saying was that I was sorry for colliding with you back in Oklahoma. I wasn’t paying attention, I was in a rush and didn’t see you. It wasn’t until after that I noticed that the gate was in the opposite direction.” A dirty blonde guy explains to me.

“Oh no, it was totally my fault, I should have been looking up instead of on my phone. I guess we were both in a rush. But hey, I like your jean jacket. Pretty dope.” I say to him.

“Right back atcha.” he retorts.

*Awkwardly stands next to each other waiting for your luggage to arrive*

“Welp, that's my luggage. Have fun in L.A.” The guy says as he grabs his other luggage and heads towards the exit.

“Thanks, you too crash buddy.” you say back.

*you grab your luggages from the conveyor belt and pull to the side so you’re not in the way of people. You go to open one of your luggages to make sure nothing spilled on the flights/crash over, when you notice that the things in one of the luggages isn’t yours.*

“Shit, I must have accidentally switched luggages with that guy back in Oklahoma.” you say to yourself as you look around to hopefully see if he is still around.

*You close up the luggage, and begin to gather your things and head towards the exit, hoping the guy hasn’t left the airport yet. You get to the exit, head outside and don’t see the guy you bumped into.*

“Damn it!” you say defeated, “How will I ever get my stuff back? What a way to start off my birthday.”

*You get an uber and head towards Arlo’s place*

#Owen Patrick Joyner #OPJ #julie and the phantoms #JATP #owen joyner x reader #oklahoma #fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfic #owen joyner's hats #bindi

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malumsmermaid · 4 years

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Thirsty Much?

Prequel to Nail Polish

Requested by anon: “I was wondering how they start being fwb”

Warnings: self-pleasure, sex, fwb situation

Rating: M (18+ only)

Word Count: 2.8k

NSFR

You were sitting out on the back patio, laptop in front of you, half-heartedly participating in a work meeting. The voice of one of your more eager coworkers filled your headphones as your gaze went over the top of your computer screen, landing on your recent roommate, Calum, working out, shirtless, in the far corner of his yard.

You had moved in with Calum almost two months ago. It was only meant to be temporary, moving out of your ex’s home after they broke up with you, their main point being jealousy and insecurity caused by your friendship with Calum. You didn’t totally understand that contention, sure Calum had a habit of kissing his closest friends, yourself included, from time to time, on the cheek or otherwise, and obviously you weren’t blind, he was unfairly attractive, but you didn’t think any of your interactions with him could’ve caused insecurity in your former partner, Calum was just your friend.

The set up was supposed to be temporary, the night after you’d removed all your things from your former apartment you’d stayed up with Calum and a bottle of wine, trying to understand what your ex had seen. After a month of chaos at work and processing being single again you began the search for a new apartment, close enough to work without being in an area where you could potentially run into your former partner at the store or coffee shop on a regular basis. About a week and a half into your search, however, lockdown started, leaving you living with Calum for the indefinite future.

At the time it seemed all well and good, however, now almost a full three weeks in with no contact with anyone aside from Calum and you were...frustrated. It had first reared its head last week when you helped Calum film his section of the Wildflower music video. Standing in the living room, with just Calum and the green screen in front of you, as he took on the lead singer role, performing for a non-existent audience in his black mesh shirt and mouthing along to the arguably suggestive lyrics, or at least only arguable in Calum’s mind from what you’d seen of Luke and Ashton when the video came out, it had definitely been a challenge to keep the camera steady. As soon as you both had deemed there to be enough footage for Andy and Sarah to go through for the project they’d come up with as an alternative for the original video that had had to be scrapped due to quarantine you’d volunteered to take Duke out for a walk while Calum waited for their friend to come pick up the equipment, to get some fresh air.

Your video meeting ended, and you continued to sit there, checking your email for anything new and working on a project that was due tomorrow...the one the meeting was about. Calum disappeared inside while you were still working, reappearing about ten minutes later. “Thirsty?” he stated, and you turned to look up at him, considering if he had noticed you watching his workout at all.

You smiled when you saw the glass of water he was holding out, nodding and thanking him softly as you accepted it. “I’m going to be in the office on a call with the boys, don’t know how long it’s going to go on, think we’re making some sort of video out of it for later.” He said, hand running through his damp curls as he squinted against the sun.

You nodded in response, sighing as you spotted the low battery alert on your laptop. You hadn’t plugged it in after last night’s show watching and having the brightness all the way up so you could actually see wasn’t doing your battery any favors. “I’m probably going to come in now anyway, computer wants to die on me, so I’d better plug it in and just take a quick shower before I get back to work.”

You both went back inside, plugging your laptop in at the kitchen counter and draining the glass of water while Calum got started making his lunch before Ashton called in. You left the glass in the sink, walking down the hall to the bathroom. You closed the door behind you, quickly stripping down as you started the water. You had the water set to the cooler side today, necessitated both by the warmth of the Los Angeles sun and the heat your body was putting off as a result of the thoughts you were having about your current roommate. You did a quick wash, moving to the shower’s true purpose.

You began touching yourself, mind filling with images of Calum’s plump lips, his tongue darting out to wet them occasionally, and his long fingers, you’d seen them work over his keyboard, bass, and acoustic guitar as he continued to create during these times, and now you imagined them working over you, in place of your own fingers. You let your mind wander to all the things you could only dream he would do to you, gasping and moaning softly, hoping that the fan, running water, and closed door would cover up what you were doing.

For some reason, today, just imagining his fingers and mouth working you wasn’t enough, letting out a frustrated groan before pushing into new territory. You chewed your lip, trying to picture what could possibly be hidden beneath his pants. You had some ideas to go off of from mornings where he just rolled out of bed in only boxers or wandering the house in his sweatpants, but you had never entirely taken that in before. You heard a door creak somewhere in the house, assuming it was the office door, giving you slightly more freedom with your alone time. You increased your volume just slightly, following the path of your new train of thought. Finally you felt yourself reaching your high, chasing that feeling recklessly. “Fuck, yes, yes...shit fuck, Caluumm” you whimpered out as you finally fell over the edge, free hand gripping the handrail for the wash cloth for stability.

You took a moment to catch your breath before turning around to rinse off and clean up before getting out of the shower. As soon as you cut the water off you heard footsteps retreating down the hall and frowned, slowly poking your head out from behind the shower curtain. You gasped when you saw the open bathroom door, cursing yourself. You knew Calum’s house was on the older side and that sometimes the doors didn’t latch right, susceptible to open with a draft. Heat and embarrassment flooded your body and you grabbed the towel from the hook just outside the shower, drying most of the way off in the shower before wrapping the fabric around your body and darting across the hall to your room.

You quickly finished drying off and pulled on fresh pajamas before running down to the kitchen to grab your laptop and found a plate of food sitting next to it, feeling yourself grow even warmer at the fact that Calum had sweetly chosen to prepare lunch for you too. You took the plate and your laptop and charger back into your room, closing the door tightly before crawling into bed, eating your lunch and getting back to work, no intention of leaving this room until lockdown was over.

~~~~~~

Several hours later there was a light knocking on your door. You closed your laptop, sinking under your blankets and tried to pretend to sleep. Another three knocks against the door followed by the sound of it opening with no time in between for you to fully pull the covers above your head to hide from your friend. So instead you stayed as still as possible as you heard his footsteps on the wood floor. “Hey sweets, I know you’re not asleep under there, c’mon, talk to me.” His voice was gentle and you hummed, refusing to face him.

The bed sank slightly under his weight as he sat in the space created by your curled up legs. He shifted slightly, turning until he was able to reach over and place a hand on your shoulder. “I want you to know that I can be here for whatever you need. I know you just think it’s for comfort, but, we’re going to be here for who knows how much longer, and I want you to know...I’m open to anything, but you have to talk to me, okay sweets?”

You could feel warmth spreading across your face at his words and slowly you rolled over, pushing down the blankets. He shifted on the bed, accomodating for your movement and you both changed positions, waiting a moment for him to settle before you spoke. “I’m just...afraid,” you began, Calum’s mouth opening to respond, but you continued on before you lost your nerve. “The whole time I was trying to process my breakup I kept saying that I only ever saw you as a friend, but the past week or so it’s been different. Maybe it is just because I haven’t been able to see anyone else right now, or maybe there’s something underlying there that I didn’t notice and my ex did. But, regardless of what’s causing...that, I don’t want to mess up what we have, our friendship. If something more were to happen and we come out of this lockdown and I get out of your hair, I don’t want to lose you.”

Calum was silent for a moment once you’d finished, thoughtful expression on his face. You curled your knees to your chest, waiting for him to respond. “Ok, first things first, you moving in with me after your ex broke up with you? Not at all a burden or nuisance to me, so get that out of your head. Second, the two of us hooking up, is sort of something that I have considered before, even before quarantine. Obviously not while you were processing your breakup, I’m not a fucking dick, but like before that a few times. And personally, I think that the foundation of our friendship is solid enough to survive us sleeping together, even if it only lasts for the rest of quarantine. It’s all up to you, ok sweets? Nothing you have to decide right now, and there’s no pressure. It’s just all out in the open now, yeah?”

You nodded slowly as Calum finished speaking, finally looking directly at him and seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You gave him a small smile in return and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders. Just as he pulled out of the hug, the doorbell rang, followed swiftly by Duke barking. “Perfect timing, ordered us dinner. You can eat in here, or you can join me in the living room and help me find a show to watch tonight.”

You smiled, nodding as you slowly got to your feet, kicking the covers away while Calum left to go pick up the delivery from the front steps. You grabbed your lunch plate, carrying it to the kitchen and setting it in the dishwasher before joining Calum on the couch. He grinned, squeezing your shoulders as you joined him, remote already in hand.

~~~~~~

After cleaning up dinner you both stayed on the couch, continuing to watch a few more episodes of the show you’d agreed on. As the loading screen for the next episode appeared on the tv you turned to look up at Calum from where your head was resting on his shoulder. Anxiety plagued you yet again, chewing your lip before pushing past it and voicing your thoughts. “Cal…” you whispered, getting his attention, “can we...you know, try this out?”

Calum just nodded slowly in response, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before turning off the tv. He held your hand as you both walked down the hall, all the way to his room. He stood in the doorway with you for a moment, slowly leaning in and pulling you tightly against him. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back, fingers threading into the short curls at the nape of his neck, everything about the moment sweeter than you could’ve ever imagined.

He took things slow, checking with you each time he wanted to remove a piece of your clothing. Once you were completely bare, sitting on his bed he crawled next to you, mostly undressed, though his boxers were still on. He pressed gentle kisses over your cheeks, nose, and neck before slowly progressing to your chest. “Please Calum,” you finally whimpered, reaching to try to bring him back to you, “need you.”

He nodded, watching as your hands moved to his boxers, slowly freeing him from that final constraint. His eyes fluttered closed as you carefully wrapped a hand around his half-hard length, your movements tentative as you made sure that he was getting taken care of too. You felt a flush overtake you as you continued to work him, sudden thought from earlier hitting you. Calum misread the change in your expression, gentle hand grabbing your wrist, “You don’t have to keep this going if you don’t want to.” He stated, voice gentle as he looked at you with concern.

“No, no, it’s not that,” you reassured, everything in you beyond certain that that was the case with Calum, that you could tell him to stop anytime and he would listen. “It’s just...in the shower earlier...I just...even half hard...it’s uh, beyond--”

Calum smirked slightly as he realized what you were saying, leaning forward and placing a kiss to your cheek. “I get that, don’t worry, I’ll take it easy tonight, yeah?”

You nodded shyly, thumb flicking over his tip as he spoke. He gasped sharply, hand still on your arm but gripping tighter now. You stared at him, eyes wide as he took shallow breaths, your hand stilling on his length. He gently released your arm after a moment, you following suit, removing your hand from him as he leaned toward the bedside table. He pulled out lube and a condom, tossing both down on the bed before leaning in for another slow, deep kiss. “Relax for me, sweets,” he whispered as he slowly pulled away, grabbing the lube and coating his fingers, finally beginning to work you open.

His voice was gentle, keeping up a conversation, asking you about things you liked and didn’t, always checking in from time to time to make sure you were still okay with what was happening. Finally, he wiped his fingers on his thighs, looking down at your shaking body, already close from the stimulation he’d been giving you. He grabbed the condom, quickly opening it and rolling it on himself, nose scrunching up as he did so. He was about to check in with you again, his mouth already open to ask the question when you cut him off, “Please Calum, I need you.”

He smiled, cheeks flushing slightly before he lined himself up with you and slowly began pushing in. You gasped, your body seeming to stretch further as he entered you than it had already from his fingers. You let out a low moan of his name, hands grasping for anything, just from him being inside of you.

He gave you time to adjust before slowly rocking his hips in and out, taking into account everything else you’d told him minutes earlier and even with him taking it slow, being completely gentle, you felt like you were going to burst, telling him as much as he continued his steady pace. “Whenever you’re ready, love, let go,” he managed between gasps and moans of his own.

You came twice before he did, Calum collapsing as soon as he fully finished, rolling over so you were on top with him still inside you. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his racing heart as you both came down. Finally he pulled out, carefully maneuvering you back onto the mattress and got out of bed. You watched him as he walked into his bathroom, admiring the view until you couldn’t anymore. You heard the water running and soon he returned with a warm washcloth. He slowly cleaned you up before doing the same to himself, quickly taking the cloth back to the bathroom once he was done. He crawled back into bed, strong arm pulling you to his side and you laid your head back on his chest.

The room was silent for a few moments before you finally managed to find your voice. “So, we should do that again sometime,” you said, turning to smile up at him.

Calum smiled back, “A hundred percent….in the morning?”

“Only if you wake up ready to go,” you teased tiredly, nuzzling against him.

“You’re on, sweets.” He stated with a smile, gently rubbing your back as you slowly fell asleep.

Tag List: @calpops @goth5sos @irwinkitten @wildflowergrae @empathycth @talkfastromance4 @maluminspace @thesubtweeter

#calum hood #calum hood smut #calum hood x reader #calum hood blurb #calum hood 5sos #calum hood 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum smut #calum x reader #calum blurb #calum hood imagine

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

Text

Why don’t you put the boy down

Salem has Jaune and Ren on their knees at her mercy, Oscar being held up by several Shadow Hands, the boys clearly tired and damaged.

Jaune grimaces with rage, while Ren’s normally calm expression was broken by a snarl.

Salem smirks at the pair.

“I suppose,” Salem says with a twirl of her wrist. “This is where, according to what they call them? The tropes? Cliches?” She says ponderously. “Well, I suppose the words are ultimately meaningless as long as you understand meaning. I’m giving you a chance for last words, for those who’ve gotten as far you two have yet to disappoint in their personal epitaph.”

Jaune looks to Ren, a unspoken message in their eyes.

Jaune gets up first and pulls out Crocea Mors.

Salem raise a eyebrow. “Oh? No words, choosing the warriors death?”

Jaune shakes his head, and presses a formerly unseen button on Crocea Mors handle. Seconds passes as it transform, its blade widening and hilt lengthening, transforming into a electric guitar!

Salem looks surprised, “That is interesting, but I fail to see what you’re doing.”

Jaune plants the sheath into the ground, it changes into a amplifier, and then he plugs a cord into the guitar link it to the Amp. He strums it, smiles, looks to Ren with a thumbs up.

Ren nods, removes the blades from Stormflower, and puts the guns on the ground and presses another unseen button causing the guns to turn into a pair of drums, and pulling out device that starts to turning a snazzy electronic beat.

Ren grips Stromflowers blades in hand spinning them, which when done reveals a pair of drum sticks.

The Ren pulls a piano out of nowhere

“Ren, lay down the beat.” “Got it boss.”

Confusion evident on her face, Salem ask. “What is this?”

The boys merely smile.

Oscar though, Oscar knows what going on, and starts laughing.

“What why do you laugh, Ozma?“

Oscar smiles coyly. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

Jaune then begins to sings as Ren plays the piano.

“ Oh, come and see the opening band Now that you've got your tickets And beverages in hand They look so tired, sound uninspired Guitars are secondhand 'Cause no one likes an opening band”

Salem lets out a laugh at the boys self-deprecation.

“Nobody likes the opening band Their set time's far too early And I've never heard of them And chances are they won't go far Career is sure to end 'Cause no one likes an opening band”

Salem looks behind herself to see Oscar with a tambourine. “Where in the hell did you get that?” Before snatching it away, causing Oscar to pout.

“Oh, unfamiliar things will make us nervous But singing here for you gives me a purpose, so...Take pity on the opening bands 'Cause no one came to see them Except their mom and dad But if you lend an ear And give them just one little chance You may just like the You may just like the You may just like the opening band “

Salem smiles happily, “Well, I must say an odd choice of last words, but amusing nonetheless, now prepare-”

Suddenly a sound reminiscent of the oldest computers starts to play, as Ren gets to work drumming.

“What you’re not done, oh, now I get why you played the song. Are you giving me a concert, why how flattering!”

Jaune starts to play his guitar.

“Big shot, so what?

Do you wanna pretend?

You took the magic

But the magic couldn't buy you love.

Now I want you to leave Oscar alone.”

At first Salem seem to enjoy the music, then she looks like she was slapped by the words she just heard.

“They say the devil that you know

Is better than the devil that you don't

Oh, you're a big shot here, but nobody else knows

Now I want you to leave Oscar alone”

Salem speaks up, but Jaune and Ren don’t notice. “I’ll have you know I’m very well known. I even have cults!”

The boys don’t care and keep playing.

“Blind spot, take your best shot

Lucky me

Go fly a kite until you're tangled in the hanging tree”

Salem looks confused. “What does that even mean? Wait, are you telling me to have fun then kill myself!?”

Jaune smiles and says nothing, but Ren just slowly raises the bird.

Salem again. “Why, I never!”

Jaune starts singing again.

“ Now I want you to leave Oscar alone

They say the devil that you know Is better than the devil that you don't

Oh, you're a big shot here, but nobody else knows

Now I want you to leave Oscar alone,”

“I hate how catchy this is.” Salem grumbles.

Jaune stares at Salem with fiery blue eyes.

“Four in the morning

But we're having such a lovely time

Mad as a hatter with a dagger and a dollar sign

Aristocrat, tip your hat and break your mother's heart

And when the sun comes up

You'll find a brand new god

(Hey, come on)

(A brand new god)

(Oh, oh) “

Salem starts looking a little intimidated at the slowly revealing madness of the blondes gaze. Ren, wasn’t helping his gaze cold and dead as a stone grave.

“ Now I want you to leave Oscar alone

They say the devil that you know

Is better than the devil that you don't

Oh, you're a big shot here, but nobody else knows

Now I want you to leave Oscar alone ”

Jaune stops finishing, and grabs a glass of water from Ren.

“Now if you’re done, I will get to killing you.”

Jaune holds up a finger, and finishes his glass of water, then puts it on Ren’s hand, who refills it with his water-skin.

Then Jaune starts playing his Guitar, while Ren hum, O oh oh oow.

“Ok, there’s more feel free to tell me when,” Then she turns to Oscar who has another tambourine. “Fine, keep it, I don’t care.” Salem says pouting.

Jaune starts singing in a disturbingly cheery voice.

“ Stop Drop And drag me into place And lock the fire escapes I'll break your pretty face (Yeah, yeah)”

Salem raise a finger. “Ok, this one sounds a little different than the last two.”

Jaune merely smiles a maniac smile at her.

“Oh, you Clever little things The sycophantic teens What a precious basket case (Yeah, yeah)”

“Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine And what a lovely time, that it would surely be So bite your tongue And choke yourself to sleep”

Salem reels back again. “What are these lyrics, who wrote them, are they aimed at me?! This is starting to get disturbing.” Salem says slightly panicked

“You get everything you want And magic always talks To the idiot savants (Yeah, yeah)”

“That’s just mean!”

“Now shut your dirty mouth”

Salem shuts up.

“If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine And what a lovely time, that it would surely be So bite your tongue And choke yourself to sleep

Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine (oh!) And what a lovely time That it would surely be So bite your tongue And choke yourself...”

Jaune starts to play once again, before Salem starts talking, though, it could also have been the dark look in his eyes shutting her mouth once she looks like talking.

“Last song of the night.”

Salem lets out a breath, the music was starting to get to her.

Jaune leans into a mic that wasn’t there a minute ago, singing in a breathy tone.

“ I wanna take you home A night out on the town Say that you're pretty so you stand up stand up Before I drag you down”

Jaune then accidentally hits the glass of water ‘oops’

“Crawling up your skin Potions pills and medicines To drain you And bleed your magic out”

“Are you a serial Killer? Because this sounds like something Tyrian wrote, only somehow more disturbing.”

“Lonely little life And nobody believes you now You're bleeding magic out”

“Are you trying to steal my magic?” Jaune merely winks, and continues singing, giving Salem the shivers.

“Don't want to scare you off Don't want to know your name You'll never know a single thing about me Until it's far too late Crawling up your skin Potion, pleasing medicines To circumvent your brain

Lonely little life And nobody believes you now You're bleeding magic out

And nobody believes you now You're bleeding magic “

Jaune then stops, “Give us back Oscar, or I keep singing.”

“Deal.”

#Song Fic #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren #Oscar #Salem #Get fucked Salem #Give us back our son!#Me lowkey trying to advertise songs I like.

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wtf-yoongi · 4 years

Text

“Let me play you what I have.”

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | yoongi asks for your help with a song

genre/warnings | you’re both musicians (even though you don’t work in the music industry) so musician fluff i guess?

words | 1,648

note | i’m not even kidding at this point i think i’m in love with yoongi and i’ve never been more serious in the entirety of my life

“Mine was never this glamorous,” you joke as you stare into the high ceilings of the ground floor of the building. “This place is gigantic.”

“Well, it is fancy and over the top,” Yoongi agrees and shrugs as if he’s 100% indifferent to it all. “But this is just to impress visitors.”

You look around, trying to take in as much as you can while you follow Yoongi to the elevator area. Everything seems to be made of either glass or marble – well, the best glass and marble money can buy. The attention to detail is remarkable and you can’t help but agree with Yoongi: this is a little bit over the top.

“I thought you had seen this the last time you were here.” He looks at you now, taking turns between staring at your face and your hands. You can’t do it here where the walls are made of glass even if he’s wearing a cap and a mask, but you know his fingers are twitching.

“Not really,” you correct him and shake your head lightly. “First time I was here was before the tour. You gave me a ride and we took the elevator straight from the garage.”

“Oh…” Yoongi nods. He remembers now. “I should have showed you the place that day, sorry. We were in a rush.”

There’s a soft sound, signaling one of the elevators has finally arrived. Yoongi impatiently taps his right foot on the ground like he just wants the doors to open faster. You know he’s a little apprehensive from the moment he calls you to come around earlier, but you didn’t think you’d find him like this.

You just want to calm him down somehow.

As soon as you’re safe inside the elevator with the doors closed, you extend your hand to him and his fingers stop fidgeting immediately to take yours. “You didn’t have to come greet me downstairs,” you comment casually, but there’s gratitude in your eyes.

“I know, I wanted to,” he says, taking his mask off and putting it in his pocket with his free hand. “And I needed to get out of the studio a little bit.”

“Something wrong?”

“Just a song that won’t come together, the usual,” he mocks and smiles to the ground. “This one is going to be stubborn, I just know it. I’ve been playing with this idea for days now and I don’t think I have a full verse yet.”

Yoongi’s voice is tired and passionate at the same time. Even if he’s complaining about it, you know he likes this sort of struggle to accomplish something he’s happy and satisfied with – the reward may be as grand as the effort. He’s always hoping for that. Artists are always hoping for that, you know it all too well.

“I was actually hoping you’d help me, if you don’t mind.”

He brings it up quietly and casually, but when you turn your face to him he’s not looking directly at you, deciding to keep his stare into the ground. He isn’t exactly comfortable with that idea and doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he’s happy to try.

You’ve talked about doing something together, working on lyrics or melodies or whatever came to mind, but never put much thought into it. Like that old group of friends who keep on saying you should meet sometime, but never actually do. You’re not mad if it never happens, somethings aren’t supposed to happen anyway.

Yoongi finally raises his head after he doesn’t hear it from you for a while, eyes expecting a positive reply so he doesn’t have to pretend that never happened somehow. Inside his mind, he’s already thinking about ways he can make it less awkward.

“That’s why you asked me to come?” You ask in a curious tone.

“Well, yeah,” Yoongi laughs lightly and presses his left hand to the back of his neck, scratching it a bit in a nervous habit. “It’s ok if you don’t want to, though. It’d be good to just hang around and do nothing as well, I’m just waiting for some papers I have to sign and we can go somewhere if you want. It’s probably good to give the song some time as well, since…”

“We can try something, yeah,” you interrupt before he runs out of air. “I’m a little rusty, though, I don’t really know if I’ll be able to help with anything.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi shakes his head and his hand follows. “I want you to listen and give me your opinion, that’s already enough for me. And I highly doubt it.”

You don’t have time to question him what the last part is about. As if on queue, you arrive on the 21st floor and it’s really not as fancy as the lobby, just like you remember, but you can see someone was still thoughtful enough to add fresh flowers to the vase in the corner. The people in charge of running the building are not sleeping on the job.

Yoongi is silently dragging you around the corridors and you can see the directions on the wall, but not for long enough to make any sense of them. A dozen more steps and you both stop in front of a door, Yoongi quickly tapping the keyboard on the right. There’s a beep before it opens.

He reaches inside to turn on the lights, but ultimately lets you in first. The room looks just like the last time, simple and straightforward in furniture and color, but not in music equipment. You can see he upgraded the digital piano to one that looked more like a real one, but still plugged to the wall. Maybe it makes him feel better knowing it’s a little similar to the real deal?

“New piano?”

“Yeah,” he assents, closing the door behind him. “These keys feel a little better, you know?”

Yes, you know. You can always tell when the keys just feel better under your fingertips. Playing becomes easier, practicing technique feels less like a pain. You nod.

“Let me play you what I have.”

You sit on the couch in one corner while Yoongi sits on his own chair, moving his magic mouse to light up the screen in front of him. You can see there are many layers on top of one another, but definitely not as many as you would expect coming from him.

You’ve seen him working from home well past midnight, shirt half dressed with headphones on, keeping quiet so he doesn’t notice you behind him. Making music is intricate, but Yoongi likes it even worse, adding one thing on top of the other, filter after filter, until it feels like it’s too much and he can finally recognize what is standing out in a bad way. Then he mutes and saves the ones he likes for another time.

He makes some quick adjustments before pressing the spacebar, turning slightly so he can see your reaction. The beat you hear is nothing out of the ordinary – it’s a 4/4 time signature major key song, exactly how most happy pop ones go.

However, in true Yoongi style, there’s something else to it. The bass line tricks your head into some sort of rhythm and, despite having the poppiest of beats, you can hear an acoustic guitar streaming in the very background, almost unnoticeable. More bars pass and you can now hear a piano playing some sort of arpeggio – simple, but effective. It grows into what you feel is a chorus and then Yoongi is hitting the spacebar again.

“That’s all I have,” he confesses and shrugs, looking at you from under his eyelashes and trying to figure out your puzzled expression.

“It’s good, I like it,” you start and he’s soon looking at you incredulously, waiting for the real response. “Yeah, it needs work, but you made it sound like you had nothing.”

You’re both chuckling softly now and Yoongi lets his body fall into the chair completely, covering his face with his hands.

“Tell me what I have to do!” He begs with a muffled voice. “I hate this song already.”

All of a sudden, you feel like you should have done this earlier. His busy schedule kind of gets in the way all the time, but not really all the time. You wish any of you had enough courage to bring this up earlier, to stop being that group of friends that say things with no real weight to them.

Musicians are sometimes overprotective of their work or scared to stick their noses into somebody else’s, but Yoongi falls into his normal self too fast – too comfortable, no sign of nervousness anymore. He’s not scared to show you his unfinished and imperfect work. It feels like you’ve been doing this for ages.

“I told you I’m a bit rusty, I…”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he interrupts with a smile, letting his hands show his face again. “You’re a classically trained pianist, 15-plus years of music classes under your belt, three years of being a trainee with top marks in songwriting. You can’t say you’re rusty when I hear you playing my piano at home. You’re not. At all,” he emphasizes as you continue to laugh at his reaction.

“Yeah, but I have almost zero experience in music production. And I also gave up being an idol so…” You try to argue, but he’s not having any of it.

“I bet you my new piano you have at least 13 ideas for this, I just feel like you do.”

There’s a smirk on his face now you can’t resist.

“Where are the lyrics you wrote for this?” You ask and Yoongi soon hands you a notepad with many lines scribbled on the first page. “Can you hand me that pen?”

Read more ›› masterlist

#bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga x you #yoongi fanfic

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

The Band Onstage

Suey finally gets to go to a show

(Start at the beginning)

*public sex; rough sex*

Tonight is Mary’s gig at Regency. You’d put it in your calendar, but Mary still had texted you this morning.

Mary [6:12am]: Rgcy 2nite 8

Mary [8:03am]: Guitr 6 pls

You wanted to make fun of him for forgetting the most important thing, but the only reason it’s here in the first place was so he could see you while getting in some extra play.

And it allowed you some extra play.

It’s definitely one of your horny days. No matter what you do, it seems like every position you sit in presses on your clit in a delicious way. You usually just take a nap on your lunch break, but today you’re really going to have to do something about the fact that your focus is throbbing between your legs.

At 11:59am, you slam your laptop shut and hurry into your room. It’s a veritable minefield as usual—Mary always complains about tripping over your outfit detritus (“Can you not tread all over my shit, please?!” “Christ, if you care about it so much, why is it on your floor!?”)—but it’s a controlled chaos. You rummage around for your vibrator, which could be anywhere (Mary has the tendency to just toss it when he’s done with you), but should be on your small table. Or next to your pillow. Perhaps under the bed.

After a hasty search, you finally find it when you shake out your duvet. You go to settle in—then think maybe some porn, too? Which means you have to go back out to your laptop.

Ugh. Why is everything hard.

You shuffle back out to your living area and quickly get your viewing pleasure set up. The video starts, and you spread your legs, pressing the toy to your clit in morse code bursts. You’re just getting into it when—

bonk!

The neck of Mary’s guitar, which had been propped up on the other end of the couch, beans you in the temple.

“Ow, fuck!”

You set your vibe aside and, grumbling, begin to carefully maneuver his instrument out of the splash zone. You’re pretty worked up at this point—which will be your excuse to yourself later—so when your hand slides down the neck, you can’t help but think of the way Mary’s hands deftly manipulate it when he plays.

And, fuck—you love Mary’s hands.

Sliding your hand back up the neck, you pretend to be Mary pretending the guitar is you.

Doooown twang. Uuuuup, twang.

You hastily reach behind you and fumble around for your vibrator, pressing it in between your clenched thighs so you can grind against it as you stroke the guitar. Mary’s hands, hands on you, tongue in ear, on your neck, on your clit …

Fervently you rut against the buzzing toy, Mary’s guitar now clutched to you, as the stimulation finally sets you over the edge. You cry out—one hand shooting to grip at the couch cushion—as the continuous vibrations make you cum hard and then eke a demi-orgasm out of you before you can reach down to yank it away. You lie there for a minute—one hand still grasped around the guitar neck, the other pressed down on your cunt as you wait for the spasms to subside.

Taking in a deep breath, you stretch languorously … and notice how sticky you are now. Ugh—the crotch of your lounge pants is beyond hope, but you’re pretty sure you have a clean pair in one of the piles in your room.

You extract yourself from the couch and begin to shimmy off your pants; you realize you’re still pretty slick—fuck, are you going to have to shower or will a baby wipe do?!—when your eye lands on Mary’s guitar, now prone on the couch. Your lips spread in an involuntary grin. Clambering back onto the couch, you straddle the guitar. Tentatively, you lower your pussy onto the strings and start to slide up the neck.

Ok, you’re definitely going to need a shower.

It ends up feeling pretty weird, so you straighten back up, swipe your hand through your wet folds, and begin to smear that and what’s already on the strings the rest of the way up. You make sure to spread it out evenly all the way up, and—when you’ve exhausted what’s between your legs—you rub the crotch of your pants up and down the back. Only once you’re satisfied, do you climb off and gingerly take the instrument to secure in its case.

You decide to stretch out your lunch break—no sense showering now and then later. Turning on your email sound notifications, you hop into the shower, where you wash your hair with the good shampoo & conditioner and lose the fight against the patriarchy by shaving things.

A little bit of product in your hair, and you wrap yourself in an old, but comfortable robe. No use putting on clothes when you’re just going to take them off in a few hours!

You finish out the rest of your (long, boring) workday with minimal tantrums, though in your mind you’re already fucking Mary post show. Despite having already showered, you’re still running woefully behind to hand off Mary’s guitar to him at 6pm. You wrap your rain trench around you—you’d originally intended to wear your vintage one with the faux-fur collar, but you don’t want Mary seeing your outfit just yet—and head off to the club at a speed prance.

The door to the club isn’t locked, but when you wander in, it’s just a handful of staff—the bouncer leaning on the bar, the bartender counting his till, and some servers wiping down tables. The bouncer straightens.

“Doors at 7:30, honey.”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “the band?”

“You can meet the band after, just like everybody else. For now ….” He starts to move in your direction, but then Mary appears—stiff and stomping towards you.

“What was it I said to you, Jimmy?” he snaps. “I said ‘A girl with a guitar.’ Does she look like a groupie to you?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes and puts his hands up before sitting back down. Mary practically rips the case from your grasp.

“You’re late,” he hisses at you. “It’s nearly 6:30!”

“Well ‘hello’ to you too, asshole. I was working til half past 5.”

Mary puts down the case, opening to check the contents—as if you’d bring him an empty case. Satisfied, he snaps it back shut.

“I said 6 for a reason! Soundcheck is in 5, and now I’m gonna have to do tuneups on the fly. Maybe next time skip on the primping, ok?”

You flick his ear.

“Fuck, ow.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Don’t be fucking late then!”

You snap your fingers in front of his face.

“I’m sorry—am I the one who forgot his guitar? Am I the one who begged me to be here with cunnilingus?”

“Well, if you don’t wanna be here, then leave. No one’s fucking forcing you.”

You glare at him, then count to ten.

You go to squish his face between your hands, realize he’s in full corpse paint, and instead rest them on his shoulders

“LOOK at me.” He does, pouting and eyebrows furrowed—your grumpy skeleton. “I do want to be here … but if you disrespect me like that again, I’m fucking walking. I don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Am I understood, Gorrey boy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says more sharply.

“Good,” you say, giving him a quick, light peck on the lips. “You’ll do great,” you say in quieter tones.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning into you a bit. You push him away, playfully.

“Go! You have to go do soundcheck!”

He trundles off—muttering what sounds a lot like Pain in my ass—and when you look up you can see the hard eyes of the band on you from the platform stage. You form your hand into the bird and wave at them before sauntering out of the bar. With an hour to kill, you head to a cafe where you can nurse a tea and plug in your phone.

When 7:30 rolls around, you make your way back to the club. There’s a line, but when Jimmy sees you, he grins and waves you forward.

“You must have magic nipples or some shit to put ole’ Mary Goore in his place,” he says as he lets you in the club.

You wink at him. “They’re beer-flavored.” You hear him guffaw as you make your way in.

Now that the space is filled with people, it seems like a much bigger venue. It’s not at capacity yet, but there are enough patrons milling about for it to be lively. You luck out with a stool at the bar where you can easily see the stage. You shimmy out of your trench and grope around under the bar until you find a hook to hang it on.

You order a wheat beer from the bartender, who winks and tells you that the first one’s on the house. You beam in thanks, making a note to tip him extra when you settle up. As you sip your beer and do some people watching, you become aware of the two women sitting next to you. They’d been talking about “the band” (Mary’s is just the first opener) since you sat down, but you only tune in when it becomes clear they’re discussing Mary’s band.

“… totally slaps, of course, but they’re all so hot,” says the redhead with blond streaks framing her face.

“Ugh, right? But the lead guitarist especially can step on me,” says the bottled black-haired one with red lowlights.

Oh, you think, that’s Mary. It’s not like you don’t know Mary has fangirls. You’re not even particularly bothered by it—but reading comments on the internet is viscerally different than encountering it in the wild. It’s just: surreal.

You scoot your stool a little closer to the women.

“Hello? Hi. Yes, I’m sorry—but I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. That’s who I’m here to see too.”

You mean the band, but Black Hair says, “Oh! So you’re a Dead Girl, too?”

You squint. “I’m a …?”

Red Hair chortles. “Did you just get into them, then?”

“I—”

“I mean … they’re all hot, 10/10,” sighs Black Hair, “but ‘Dead Girls’ are Mary’s—that’s the lead guitarist—girls.”

Before you can say anything, Red Hair leans in conspiratorially.

“But don’t get your hopes up—I heard he’s got a girlfriend.”

Black hair tilts her head back and rolls it back and forth “Why. So unfair.”

You hide a smile behind your hand, wondering if you should say anything. Maybe you can get Mary to sign their … whatevers.

Red Hair pats her arm and leans in to stage whisper, “Don’t worry—I heard she’s fat and ugly. I’m sure you have a chance.”

“Ugh, why do they always go for the fat chicks? Is their self-esteem that low?”

“He probably feels obligated to her or something. Doesn’t know he’s got options now.”

Their casually cruel description of you leaves you stunned and feeling cold for a minute. And ok—your arms aren’t the firmest and maybe spanx are a lost cause

—which is as far as you get before you remember that you’re actually awesome and that this particular self-loathing train lost the caboose full of fucks a long time ago.

You scoot even closer to the women.

“Do you want to know something?”

The two of them look at you expectantly, heads tilted.

“It’s just—I know who his girlfriend is, and she’s such a bitch.”

You have their attention now, and they bring their stools in, too.

“Really?”

“Do tell!”

“OMG,” you say. “You are way skinnier, um … ?”

“Molly,” says Black Hair Molly.

“Katrina,” says Red Hair Katrina.

“Suey,” you say, introducing yourself with Mary’s pet name for you.

“So, what’s the tea?” asks Molly.

“Well … she thinks she’s amazing, and she bosses him around like whoa. I don’t think his bandmates like her very much.”

“Ooo,” squeals Katrina, “the salt!”

“Oh shit!” exclaims Molly. “Is she here?”

You exaggeratedly scan the room. “Hmm. I don’t see her in the crowd.

“So you think I have a chance?”

You scan her up and down, as if appraising.

“You can give it a shot.”

Katrina and Molly look at each other and start giggling.

Suddenly the lights dim, and everyone screams as Mary’s band takes the stage. The lead singer introduces them, yelling, and they dive into their first song. You don’t get to say much to the women after that—Mary’s band is loud, and some of the die-hard fans are screeching along in unison.

You’re not sure, but you think you can see Mary searching for you. You suddenly curse your spot at the bar. About 15 minutes in, however—as the lead singer is introducing the band members—Mary finally looks over your way. You give a small wave and he locks eyes with you; you give him the middle finger and suck it into your mouth seductively.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before it’s his introduction, and he’s playing a complicated riff.

“OMG. Was he looking at us?”

“He was totally looking at us!”

You roll your eyes and turn around to order another beer.

Their set lasts about 45 minutes before they’re thanking the crowd and packing up their gear. The bigger bands will have roadies, but Mary and his bandmates have only themselves and the techs from the venue to rely on, so you know you’re in for a bit of a wait. Katrina and Molly are clapping and screaming their heads off, which—you can’t fault them for. People should appreciate Mary’s band.

“Do you think they’ll come out and mingle?” asks Molly.

“They’ll have to if they have a merch table,” says Katrina.

“Should we go wait there, or … ?”

“Just chill for a bit. You don’t want to seem so thirsty! Hit them up after the initial rush when they’re bored.”

Way sooner than he should be, you see Mary stalking over to you. You can hear the excited utterances of the women next to you as he comes close, but they fade into the background as Mary crowds into your space, leaving no room for the Holy Ghost. You gasp as he winds his hand into your hair.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmurs into your lips. “Look at this tight little number you’re wearing—I might have to ruin it later.” You’re wearing an electric blue halter dress with a neck collar. Your tits need a little help staying up these days, so instead of being backless, the lace of your razor bra is showing.

He steps back. “And what the fuck are these?” he says as he runs a hand up your stockings and under your dress. You’re wearing dark blue, wide-net tights that have felt flowers sewn on. They were a present from a college friend one Christmas, so they have a few holes due to the passage of time and chub rub—but you just tell people that makes them punk rock.

When his hand brushes between your legs, he feels your naked cunt. The pièce de résistance of your ensemble is a pair of crotchless panties you have on that were a gag party favor from an anti-Valentine’s soirée a friend-of-friend had thrown.

“Oh shit.” He crowds in close again and spins you 180º so that he’s between you and the bar. His finger traces your slit. “You make me so hot, do you know that?”

He takes your hand and presses it to the growing bulge of his crotch.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel how hot you make me?” He leans down to bite your neck as his finger slips between the lips of your cunt. Your head lolls to the side and you catch eyes with Katrina and Molly, who are quiet and looking pale.

Oh. Right.

You smile at them. “Such. A. Bitch,” you say at them.

Mary brings his head up, one hand still fingering you. “What?”

You smirk at him. “I was telling Kat and Molly over there that your ‘fat and ugly’ girlfriend is a fucking bitch.”

He looks over, seeming to notice them for the first time. He doesn’t even falter.

“She fucking is,” he says as he pulls his hand from your cunt and outstretches it toward them as if to shake their hands. “Hi.”

They don’t answer. They don’t return the gesture.

“No? Ok.”

He turns back to you and puts his other hand on your neck.

“You put your fucking pussy all over my guitar.” He squeezes a little. “I’m supposed to be doing fucking soundcheck and tuning my strings and shit, and the only thing I can think about is how much my instrument smells like sex with you.”

He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, little girl.”

To them he says, “Excuse me. I have to go fuck the shit out of my girlfriend now.”

As he’s pulling you down the back hall, you look over your shoulder to wink at Katrina and Molly. Mary follows your gaze.

“Thanks for coming out!” he yells back. “Buy a t-shirt!”

His grip around your wrist is insistent—sure to leave a bruise—as he leads you into the greenroom.

A chorus of “Mary, where were you?” and “Mary, what the fuck” ring out as he maneuvers you through the room. You grimace at them as Mary all but pushes you into the adjacent bathroom. He locks the door behind you and ignores the banging and shouts behind it.

“Come here,” he demands.

You move, but not fast enough to satisfy him, so he grabs your arm to pull you to him. He licks his lips before diving down to assault your mouth. You open readily for him as his tongue shoves its way in. He tastes like his bitter makeup.

“I’ve been on edge for goddamned hours because of you,” he says when he comes up for air. “Our big gig,” he continues as he molds your pliant body stomach down and sideways over the sink, “and I have to spend our entire fucking set smelling your juice on my guitar.”

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him. “You’re welcome.”

He rucks up your dress and gives your ass a swat. You gasp, and he swats you twice more.

“You fucking bitch,” he says, but there’s no heat to it.

He drapes himself over you and mouths at your ear.

“Tell me I can fucking have you,” he snarls as he ruts against you. “Tell me I get to fuck you now.”

You turn your head again, straining to have your lips touch his.

“Fuck me, Goore,” you rasp.

Magic words spoken, he’s spreading your legs wider and ripping another hole in your stockings. You hear him as he fumbles to undo his belt buckle and drag down his zipper—and then he’s pushing into you without preamble. You gasp at the sudden intrusion as he breathes an Oh fuck into your skin. He wraps one arm around your middle and the other he braces against the wall as he begins to pound into you.

You scrabble at the wall for leverage as you squirm to find the right angle. Mary doesn’t let up at all.

“You feel so good. So tight, so wet. Fuck, is this what you wanted? Me half-crazed out of my mind?”

Well yeah, you think, something like. What comes out of your mouth is a long moan, and you squeeze your muscles hard around him.

“Shit, fuck!” he cries out as he almost stutters to stop. You push back into him, your clit throbbing and desperate for pressure.

“You asked for it,” he growls, He grabs the meat of your hips—fingers digging into your love handles—and begins to slam himself into you faster and faster. The new angle is hitting your G-spot deliciously and you cry out,

“Oh fuck, yes Mary—RIGHT THERE DON’T STOP.”

He’s making little grunting noises as he slams into you, and you know you’re going to be pretty sore later—but right now you’re trying desperately to get a hand between your legs so you relieve the heavy pressure pooling between your legs.

He’s wheezing when he says, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum. Ughn, take it, bitch.” And then he thrusts into so hard he hits your cervix and you cry out. He’s growling Uhn uhn uhn as he empties into you, thrusts slowing. When he’s done, he drapes over you, kissing behind your ear. The shift stings a little, and you flinch slightly.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, as he straightens up and eases his soft cock out of you, petting down your back.

You turn your head so he can hear you. “Maybe a little?” you say. “But I’ll forgive you if you finish me off.”

He complies quickly, sprawling under you so he can lap at you with his tongue while a finger gently enters you and presses at your G-spot. You let out a loud, shaky moan at the sudden dual sensation—you’re still pretty worked up and you see bursts behind your eyes. He works you up to a full precipice—while you clutch against the sink and pant into your arms—until your climax sparks and breaks. You clench around his finger, and your pussy pops against his relentlessly flicking tongue.

He slows down when your body slumps and you start twitching at the feeling of his tongue on your now oversensitive nub; then he wraps himself around one of your legs—stroking your inner thighs—as he waits for you to come down from your orgasmic high. When you do, he stands up and peels you off the sink. After that, the two of you hurriedly clean each other up—there’s a green room full of annoyed people bitching at you through the door, after all.

“Hey,” he says as you allow him to kiss the back of your neck. “I’m in so much shit. I really need to pull my weight with the equipment … but I’ll see you back out there in a bit?

You turn to kiss him; his paint is smeared all to hell, which means it’s probably all over you. Smoothing down your dress, you spin around with arms wide.

“Do I look like I lost a fight with the makeup section of Hot Topic?”

He snorts. “You do, actually,” he says while crowding into you. “But don’t ask me to clean it off. I want everyone to know who fucked you.”

You push him away. “You’re fucking gross, Goore.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You adore it.”

(You do.)

You steel yourself to the walk of shame through the greenroom—more than just Mary’s bandmates are in there—putting on a devil-may-care attitude like a cloak. Head held high, you leave the bathroom, smirking at the men particularly like the cat who got creamed. There’s some eye rolling, a few wolf-whistles, and an ironic slow cap. A woman in another group raises her hand up, and you high-five it, before spinning around to curtsey as you leave the room.

When you get back to the bar, the two women are gone and there’s someone in your spot. You make your apologies as you retrieve your stuff, and you order another beer for yourself and a whiskey shot + chaser for Mary, before settling your tab. The next band has been playing for a bit and your beer is half empty by the time Mary and his bandmates materialize again. They’re smiling and talking to the fans who begin to mob them. Mary shakes a few hands and signs a few CDs before making a beeline to you.

“You’re a mess,” he says as you hand him his drinks. He shoots the whiskey immediately, slamming the shot glass down onto the bar.

“Well, someone, got impatient,” you retort.

He leans in close. “Can you blame me? Fuck. What did you do to my guitar. I should be pissed.”

“I did exactly what you think I did. Got hot thinking of you, decided to show my appreciation.”

“Fuck,” he rumbles in your ear. His free hand starts to slip up your thigh again. “Do you wanna—”

He’s interrupted when one of his bandmates comes over.

“Christ, Mary. Leave the poor girl alone for a second. We gotta man the merch table. Amps don’t pay for themselves.”

Mary sighs, his hand slipping from under your dress to around your waist.

“C’mon,” he says as he leads you to their table with his very put upon-looking bandmates. He arranges you on his lap, much to their consternation.

“The girls are our biggest fans, Mary! We need to keep up the fantasy that we’re available!”

“She should be with the other girlfriends!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mary spits. “This isn’t a fucking K-pop group. They can deal with us having actual lives. If they only like our image, then what’s the point?”

You’d wanted to beg off at first—feeling a little like ornamentation for all to see—but you’re pretty pliant from the beer and the orgasm, so you let Mary keep you where you are. You have a few more shots and lite beer chaser as the night wears on, and you get into joking around with their fans and even one or two of his other band members—your ribald humor fits right in. You’re well into a lengthy discussion with the woman from the greenroom about pockets when Mary taps your arm for your attention.

“We’re gonna pack it in for tonight, Suey.”

“Ok. Do you wanna head back to mine, or … ?

Mary sighs.

“We’re apparently having a ‘band meeting,’ so I might not be able to tonight … but tomorrow?��

You feel a stab of disappointment before pushing it down. “No, I get it. Duty calls.” You lean down to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to go home and touch myself while thinking about you. I want you to think about that later when you’re alone.”

His hand squeezes your thigh hard.

“Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says softly.

The next morning when you wake, you check your phone to find that you have a text from Mary: it’s a blurry picture of his half-hard cock drooling cum. You text him back full of praise.

When you get yourself set up for the day on your laptop, your first order of business is to make a folder entitled “SueysSpankBankFodder” next to Mary’s.

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#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gutter punk #gritty girls

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myheadisinvaded · 5 years

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On With The Show… chapter 1/heaven (part1)

Word count- 1,581

Warnings- sexual talk (?), mention of drugs, idk what else to list

A/N- feedback is appreciated, thanks for giving me a chance (if you read it) There will be multiple parts, this is kind of presenting everything.

This will be a romantic Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x Oc, there will be some Mick Mars x Oc as a best friend/mentor

Present

His glossy blue eyes reflect the raindrops rolling down the window, the clouds are grey and they seem to be crying with him. The guilt and regret is building up inside his body, feelings he never wanted to feel again are starting to come back. Now they seem to be against himself, he never wanted to cause someone he loved the same pain his mother caused him.

Past

Blair is the dream daughter, in college, studying every night, doesn’t really party, doesn’t date around. She’ll drink every once in a while but she’s never done drugs, smoked, she’s a good kid. Her single mom has always greatly appreciated her daughter. Blair indulges in her music, hard rock, glam rock, punk, anything heavy, full of guitars and drums she’s there for it. She plays some music herself, she’s learning guitar, piano and her voice has always been something she’s proud of. The genres she loves don’t match her at all which always creates interest in her. The innocent child like vibe she gives off is charming and has kind of made her the sweetheart. She’s not by any means the most popular but anyone she meets, likes her.

October 1983, she has just turned 21

Her arms are up, her hands in devil horns, she is feeling happy and full of excitement and energy. Motley Crue is her favorite band and she was able to come see them, finally! She made sure to put on her cutest black dress with her best black heels, her hair in her natural loose curls and light make up. Not the most rock of outfits but she feels pretty and that’s what matters. She hopes to catch his attention, after all she had heard it wasn’t too hard, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was no way it would actually happen. She decides to just enjoy the music, front row, and not worry about it. Her eyes focus on Nikki first, he seems focused on the music and having fun on stage. She moves them over to Vince and then to Mick, and finally to Tommy. Watching them rock out and feel the music was amazing, she had always hoped that one day she would be able to do that but she doesn’t feel any where near talented enough, her eyes go back to Mick. The way he plays the guitar, its mesmerizing. The smile on her face becomes bigger and her eyes lock with Mick’s. He smiles and keeps on playing, sending her a small wink before moving around the stage with Vince and Nikki. Her eyes move back to focus on Nikki, the adrenaline coursing its way through her body from being noticed by Mick, or at least she hopes she was. The songs are all equally as fun and energy filled, Shout at the Devil, Live Wire, Take Me To The Top,Looks That Kill, Helter Skelter, etc.

The concert comes to an end, the crowd screams for more but to no avail, the energy is still high and everyone is buzzing. Girls are flooding to the backstage area, she follows the crowd, partying with Motley Crue would be a dream come true but right now she wants to at least meet them. Blair is able to get past to the backstage area, not a hard task at all, she sees everyone heading towards the back but when she glances to her left there is a hallway leading to the dressing rooms, the hallway also contains something that makes her heart flip, their guitars and basses. The ones they used tonight are roughly hung on there and she can’t help but walk in that direction instead. She immediately spots the black guitar, scraped all over and Mars in white on it. Her eyes dart around, she isn’t going to steal it but she also assumes no one would want her to play it either, who cares, it's quiet and no one seems to be here, they are all probably partying anyways. Her heels click against the tile, her black baby doll velvet dress flows around as she tries to tip toe.

When she has the guitar in front of her she gingerly picks it up and holds it in front of her eyes for a minute, the strap is still warm and sweaty. With shaking hands she puts in on, adjusting it a little, since she is shorter and her arms are short as well. She starts playing something quietly, it sounds a little weird, given that its an electric guitar and its not plugged in but its still super cool that she’s playing with Motley Crue’s guitar. Blair begins to get a little carried away, jumping around and pretending to be giving a whole show, whisper singing Live Wire. Eyes closed, head thrown back, rocker face on, she doesn’t realize when Mick appears in front of her, arms crossed, unamused eyes, and eyebrow raised. She does a little kick and jump and finally opens her eyes. Her body freezes when she sees him, he holds her stare, trying not to smirk. “I-i-i’m so sorry” she manages to stutter out. He huffs “Fucking teenagers... “ as he shakes his head but he recognizes her from the front row, her soft features and school girl look stands out.. Her arms start shaking again and when he notices that, he feels a little bad, “Give it here kid, you're holding it wrong”. Taking the guitar off of her she shakily hands it back to him and he gives her a half smile. He makes sure shes watching as he puts it on, readjusting the strap “Damn, you’re short” and places his hands on it, “If you want to be able to rock out comfortably you have to learn how to hold it, you had it on too tight too, i know you have short arms but loosen it up a little and you can slide it around” he looks at her face, she's watching him intently. He spends the next 5 minutes showing her different tips and tricks.

“So… we’ve been here for a minute and you haven’t said a word, I normally don’t like to be the only one talking, much less talking this much” he chuckles lightly “Tell me, what’s your name?” She smiles, finally having calmed down after the initial shock of having one of her idols teaching her. “Blair Storm” she states proudly. Mick raises his eyebrow once again “Stage name?” he questions. She shakes her head, “Pretty cool, huh?” she's still smiling. He gives her a grimace and nods “yeah, sure kid” He looks around and sighs ‘Hey, how about we go sit in my dressing room, we can keep talking there.” his back was beginning to hurt so he was glad when she quickly agreed and he let her in through the door that was right beside the instrument rack. Once they're both inside he motions for her to take a seat on the couch in his dressing room, he sits beside her and looks at her, his regular unamused expression on his face, he can’t help but let a small smile crack through when he sees the excitement in her eyes, the sweetest smile on her face. “Why aren’t you out there partying?” he asks curiously “Well that was my plan but then i saw your guitar and just came in this direction” she shrugs her shoulders and he just nods slowly, reaching over to the table and getting some Jack Daniel’s “drink?” he asks, she nods so he pours her some over some ice and hands to her. Little does he know that she’s never had whiskey before and her heart begins pounding.

He just takes a swig from the bottle and watches her slowly take a drink, her cheeks become bright red and she begins coughing. Her throat is burning and she screams “Oh my god!!!” Mick tries to not laugh but he can’t help it, he does stand up from the couch and goes over to her “Just breathe, its ok” he rubs her back as she gasps. Embarrassment fills her small body up.

Nikki and Tommy had been making their way down the hall, coming to get Mick and see if he wanted to come drink with them when they hear the screaming, assuming he’s got a girl in there they start laughing and acting like silly teenage boys. “Duuuuude he’s finally getting some!” Tommy jumps in excitement as they make their way to the room. When they get closer it’s quiet and Nikki wiggles his eyebrows, his hand on the doorknob, ready to bust in and catch their friend in action.

Mick had given her water and she had calmed down, not only was it her first time drinking whiskey but she had also been so nervous that it went down the wrong way. Mick was laughing at her as she slowly started laughing as well, her cheeks were flushed pink. “Damn, kid, it sounding like I had given you straight up rubbing alcohol!” As they are both laughing it off the door slams open, making Blair jump and almost spill the whiskey she had been able to start sipping on. Tommy sees Mick and some hot chick sitting like 3 feet apart on the couch and sighs, making a frowny face “aww man! Did we miss it?” Nikki looks at Mick and then at the girl, she's way too pretty to be a groupie and not drunk enough. “Miss what, drummer?” Mick asks with his monotone voice and a frown on his face. “You getting some pussy man!” Nikki laughs, his eyes focused on the girl. Mick shakes his head and before he can say anything Tommy does a facepalm ‘We interrupted it right before it happened didn’t we?” Mick sighs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Nikki looks at him “You mean to tell me that you’re just sitting here boring this girl to death?” Blair lets a small laugh out and finally speaks “Um actually we were just hanging out and he was teaching me things about guitar” Nikki rolls his eyes and confirms “So boring you to death. Why don’t you come party? We’ll go have some fun” he says, a devious smile on his face. Her face immediately goes back to a deep pink shade but she stays quiet, she looks over at Mick and her gives her a nod.

“I’ll go party” Blair stands up, fixing her short dress. “We’ll finish later, kid” Mick says as he lays down, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses on. “Bring me more booze” he demands. “Oh here, i’ll leave this bottle with you” Tommy sets it down on the table beside Mick. Nikki smirks and takes Blair by the hand and leads her out of the dressing room. Tommy follows behind them and runs past them, yelling loudly “Wooooooohhh” Nikki laughs and starts walking faster. “Wanna do some blow?” he asks as he pushes the door open, a brand new world before her eyes.

Tags: @triplehaitches

#motley crue #nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #mick mars #the dirt #netflix #motley crue imagine #motley crue fanfiction #douglas booth #nikki sixx imagine

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miragecounseling · 4 years

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ty @hmsdivinity for the tag :D

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 10 followers you’d like to get to know better!

Name? jen!

Birth year? 1995

Sign? pisces

Height? 5′6″

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs:

dead mom - beetlejuice soundtrack (lmao off to a good start)

clair - have mercy

dear future self - fall out boy

pin the grenade - blink-182

Grab the nearest book, turn to page 23, what’s the 17th line?

ahhh i dont have any books in the room with my desktop and my kindle is upstairs jsdkhjkg 2 lazy sSORRY

Ever had a song or a poem written about you?

yeah! ive had a few poems written for / about me by friends. one of my absolute favorites is this one an old friend wrote for me for my birthday. i have it printed out and framed, it means so much to me.

When was the last time you played air guitar?

every night BAYBEE solo concerts in my room before bed. haha i’m just kidding, i’m an adult now... so i prefer air piano and air drums.

Celebrity Crush(es)?

uhhh i dont really have any ? I definitely really like and appreciate some celebs but i feel weird having crushes on famous people i tend to idolize them more than a normal person & ~thats~ ~not~ ~healthy~

What’s a sound you hate/love?

love: rain, thunder, fire crackling, fingers tapping on stuff, those foam / clay cracking videos?? hate: soo many things oh god. Chewing / slurping / swallowing in excess (i can deal with normal eating sounds but the asmr eating videos make me actually want to throw up) mostly.

Do you believe in ghosts?

i dont.......not....believe in them.... like, if someone gave me some evidence i wouldnt fight against it, i’d accept it. but i’m not out here like HEY GHOSTS. i feel u right now.

Do you believe in aliens?

oh yeah, there’s life out there !!! dude, the universe is so big. it’s bigger than we can actually comprehend right? we’re not the only living things. i highly doubt it’s the hollywood aliens, but even the thought of tiny little microscopic organisms existing out there is so cool.

Do you drive?

ya but i hate it

Last book you read?

i ?? don’t know because i’m Extra and read 10 books at once.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

SURE? listen i’m not searching out gas to smell but if i’m filling my tank and i smell it i’m not gonna plug my nose!

The last movie you saw?

the house with a clock in the (it’s??) walls!!! it was good, i really like jack black and cate blanchett

Do you have any obsessions rn?

does pretending i’m gonna get my life together then just spending all daydoing nothing count? cus i’ve been doing that for so long, i think its an obsession. no?? ok well gw, as always, but stardew valley again as of recently.

Do you tend to hold grudges?

i wish i didnt but yeah sometimes ! 99% of the time its with strangers or people i already dislike though. like if we’re friends i’m usually very quick to forgive and forget, but if i already dislike u ...... that’s... probably not changing Lol

TAGGING: (if u have already done it / don’t want to do it pls feel free to ignore!!!) @lesbiancharr @the-mystic-dragon @khorren @fire-orchid

#also ive seen so many ppl also born in 1995 gkjhjkhgf #we out here #non gw2 #irl

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t-underneaththeradardancing · 5 years

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it seems just - and now - now its awmost midnight a week later - i cant remember - i kinda sucked last week yah - oh yah i members now - didnt suck even a little tonight - made 1 good decision - so a couple that is also a band and nice peeps - really nice - did the host mc thing - there is an amp a srsly good one i could have used - btw i should hav diss claimed at the beginning - wait maybe - i plan on some poetry about the moon - so maybe u should just scroll down till the words look poetic and start readin then - i could post the poetry separately but that wood not b any funatall

oh yah and since its monday and the moon thing and apollo anniversary - and cuz they just b good peeps - big shout out to everyone at @writerscreed and thank you for using a line / query from one of my pomes if i wuznt lazy as fuck i woud find it and reblog - ego may takes me there anyway but not tonight - all the love to everyone there past present future - a wonderful resource and labor of love

so post mortem - awready wrote something along the lines of i killed - i did srsly for 1 song - lykke li side band liv hurts to liv - had played w arrangement just a bit this morning - nothing major - might have incorporated quick time some - ezily the best vocal performance course it aint recorded it dont matter - i stayed on mic mostly - didnt forget words - only 1 line and not on this one mumbled cuz couldnt wrap my mouth around - 1 bad chord also not on this - huge response mid song at he line “ everybody wanna be somebody long as it aint me “ huge applause b4 last note wrung out - so the good decision - things run late - 2 many performers wanna - small technical probs including cords shorting - plug my own cord into guitar - straight into pa - setting up amp could take minutes and something to go wrong yah - and there are 2 huge ego reezons i wanna play well - the kind that fuck me up often - the most interesting man in the world - according to cinder - a neighbor -told me he was interested in coming to madrone and actually showed - he has never heard me not a note - i didnt want the awkwardness of sucking and him having to pretend he liked it - a much loved performer who only plays madrone a few times a year - the open mic anyway - his band gets paid gigs at madrone and the other bars owned by same person /ppl and other places - few years ago they headlined Slims - wait is slims still open - anyway one of the top clubs in sf for live national/international music - so he played - just b4 me - the last time i saw him wuz the 1st time after seeing each other albeit infrequently - for years now - that we spoke and that i knew he actually listened to me - i wuz ok that time but ego and started overplaying to impress - so i had chosen songs that were more vocal oriented before going - added an improvised blues in am to facilitate a harmonica player - martian mike - he actually added - if i had the amp - and it had every sound effect known to man - i prob wouldnt have resisted the urge to over the top - so after finished had nice mutual admiration mutual love of madrone conversation - he video’d at least part of my set for utube on his channel and maybe his bands channel as well

just b4 playing - went outside and thot of the ppl who send vibes love energy sundays - it was like i could feel each one sending for a sec - some sent earlier -some yet to come - felt total calm - only for a moment mind u

about the moon this was last night or saturday - total fog cover tonight - just to make sure - i go outside cuz maybe - thats my relation - love and attention - a focus and the tide thing - pretty awesome - only once - and i wuz being a dick and might have lied to myself like we do when acting as such - only once that i remember - when i remember to look for and find ( most eves nights mornings ) have i failed 2 feel better at least a little for a moment - a shapeshift trixter she b the moon - always changing always constant - thinking what might have been what still could b - we can look at the same moon at different times and be close for a hand clap cuz we zen as fuck - sometimes - we get lucky

its getting late im tired - its morning but not the wake up kind yet - dishes to do - teeth to brush - a kitty to pet

and

presto sleepo morning and not early - sleepless in sf till 3 or so - kitty wants bfast early - or wants a good tawk - she wants something she cant do fer her own self but yes she will kill and eat bugs if not fed - and yes the bowl is empty - omg yes she is a good kitty - back to sleep till a mumbled byedrivesafelove to the unpoet leaving

sun just came out and enuff quiet to hear birdsong

love

#poetry i guess #post mortem

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current-mcr-news · 5 years

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Casual Interactions #2: Full Transcription

Frank: I don't know if this is true but like, usual beverages, I'm fine with. If I drink red bull, even just a can of it, I have to urinate way more until I've dispersed the can.

John: It's like the same color in, same color out.

F: Well yeah, but also it's just like fishes and loaves. Like, I drink one can and I have liters of piss. Like, what the fuck?! How's that possible?

J: It really does all come back to you just really wanting to be an altar boy, doesn't it?

F: I guess, yeah. I feel like a lot of my personality and my demeanor is based on guilt that I received from the Catholic church as a young child.

J: So, welcome to episode number 2 of the Casual Interactions podcast. I'm John "Hambone" McGuire and joined with me as always is Frank Iero and Shaun Simon. How are you guys doing today?

Shaun: Hey, man.

F: Feeling good. Feeling handsome today.

S: Feeling handsome.

J: It never stops. You've always been handsome.

F: Aww! You son of a bitch!

J: Love you. Always have! So, we're going to continue with our origin story. So, this is Origin Story Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

F: Mhm!

J: It's like The Exorcist with more breakdancing and jazz hands! So last episode we talked about starting the band up, how the band started up. We talked a little bit about touring. Why don't we bring it back to that. Let's talk about when we started, we had a rehearsal space.

F: Yes! Yes, a lockout, if you will.

J: It was a lockout.

F: I feel like when we first started playing together, it was my mother's basement.

J: Right. Now, his mom's basement was awesome and it was wall to wall carpet. When you hear "wall to wall carpet," you think, "Oh, it just goes from wall to wall with no hardwood floor space." No, there was actually carpet on the wall and ceiling.

F: Ceiling to wall, to ceiling to wall, to carpet, to floor, to door.

J: It was like being in a cube of shag carpet.

F: Ugh! Yeah, that didn't help at all.

J: Didn't soundproof at all!

F: It didn't soundproof anything, it didn't make you feel warm. It was just- you didn't wanna touch anything, it was just gross.

J: Yeah, you definitely didn't wanna walk around barefoot in there.

F: No! Ultimately, it was a basement.

J: It was.

F: You know? A moist, shag basement.

J: Right.

F: Yeah.

J: And you were living down there for a little bit. Like, that was your bedroom.

F: I was! Yes! I ended up getting allocated to the basement.

J: Yeah.

F: It was good though. It provided a separate living space and exit, and a place for me to smoke cigarettes in my room. That was pretty excellent, I loved that.

J: Yeah. Everyone's like, "Oh man, what would it be like to be a teenager, but a cool basement apartment?" It was never cool down there.

F: No!

J: It was just sticky. It was always sticky.

F: Yeah! Yep, balmy, I think was the word! It was pretty balmy.

J: And there was 5 of us in there at one point, with all our gear. So you had your bed in the corner, and you had all the musical instruments.

F: Yes.

J: Now when we were in high school, my bedroom was the band's rehearsal space.

F: That's right, that was the first one! Oh my god, yeah! Do you remember why we had to stop there?

J: Why did we have to stop?

F: Because your mom would come in and yell at us for not wearing ear plugs.

J: Yeah.

F: But you had like a full PA, it was crazy!

S: In your bedroom at your house in Clifton?

F: Yes!

J: My bedroom in my house in Clifton, my childhood home that I grew up in, my bedroom was over the garage. And I pushed all the furniture over to like, one wall, and on my dresser I stacked PA speakers and the PA. I had my bed kind of right by the door because it was the only safe way to get in and out of the room, because on the other side of the bed was a drum kit. There was a half stack, there was a bass amp.

S: Oh my god!

F: It was like an episode of Hoarders.

J: It was like an episode of Hoarders!

F: Like, "Well, I sleep on top of the PA!"

J: Yeah, it was dangerous. I mean, I literally- I'd literally have to like, ninja roll out of my bed to the right to make it out the door to go to the bathroom at night.

F: Also, I don't feel like anybody put their shit away.

J: No.

F: Like, it was just cables and pedals everywhere.

J: I had to get a tetanus shot once because someone left like, their leftover guitar string snippings when they changed their strings.

S: Oh, man.

J: It was cool though because my mother is a wonderful woman.

F: No, she's fantastic.

J: One special lady in her age bracket. And she was so concerned that we were gonna go deaf. Like, every time we'd play, she'd come in and she'd give us this impassioned plea to wear ear plugs. Meanwhile, my dad loved having the band at the house. He loved that there was music. My dad raised me with music, he loves music. So every time my mom would be up there like, kind of tearfully imploring us to put ear plugs in, my dad would be out on the grill and he'd be grilling us like- this is before you became vegetarian- he'd be making like, hot dogs and hamburgers. So we were always a very well fed band.

F: Oh, yes! Yes.

J: And then he would drive us to the gigs in his pickup truck. Thank god it never rained during any of those shows, but yeah. He put a tarp over our gear, drove us down to Newark, and we played those like, Spanish halls. It was a lot of fun.

F: That was fun.

J: Eventually, my mom wanted us to not play in the house because she's like, "If you're not gonna wear ear plugs, you can't practice here anymore!" So we went to Frank's house.

F: Ultimatum.

J: She did give us an ultimatum.

F: My mom didn't give a shit! But yeah, and again though, well fed. I think we would practice on Wednesdays and there was a pizza place nearby that had like, a special.

J: Or your mom would make lasagna.

F: Oh boy!

J: Yeah. We were such a chubby little band. Little stick arms and little stick legs, but man, we were loaded to the gills with lasagna and like, homemade garlic bread at all times.

F: Yes, at all times.

J: So there was 5 of us in the basement. It was myself, Shaun, Frank, our friend Neil, our friend Tim, and all our gear, and Frank's bed just jammed into the corner.

F: There ya go.

J: And we practiced for 8, 10 hours a day sometimes.

F: Yeah!

J: Before we eventually got the studio. We'd only-

F: It's weird that we didn't get better! I mean like, we got good but we didn't get real good. We just got good and fat.

J: Yeah, we got good and fat. What also didn't help though, in the summer it would get so hot we'd need to cool the room down a little bit, so we would always go to IHOP.

S: I was gonna say, yeah, we went to IHOP before practice.

J: Because it was inexpensive, and we would like, feast. So we'd get loaded upstairs on lasagna, we'd get loaded at IHOP on pancakes, and we came back and, yeah, it was- we were really well fed.

S: Passed out.

F: These were the days though, where you could go to a diner like, after practice. Go to a diner, order one cup of coffee, drink it all night and smoke cigarettes at the table like, for hours and hours!

J: Absolutely.

F: It was like an episode of like, Larry King or something. Just fucking smoking, drinking coffee for hours, and it would cost you $2.25.

J: Tops! Because it was like a buck for the coffee, and you always tip the waitress! Gotta tip the waitress! And let's not bear the lead here, you could still smoke indoors everywhere!

F: Exactly!

J: Everywhere! Do you know the last night- the last time that Pencey Prep played CBGB's was the night that they banned smoking in New York City?

F: No shit.

J: Yeah, so we-

S: Really? Oh wow.

J: Yeah, it was a big deal. The whole- so there was no one in the club. Like, no one was coming to see Pencey Prep, let's-

F: There were actually a couple of people!

J: A couple of people.

F: And I mean a couple... Four.

J: A couple of people, the bartender, and I think, half the other bands had already left. However, whoever was in the bar- we were smoking onstage, people are smoking at the bar, like, lighting one after the other after the other, because they knew at like, 3 o'clock in the morning when the bar closed, there was no more smoking indoors in New York.

F: Well, that's why Pencey had to quit. Had to stop because Shaun couldn't smoke onstage anymore.

S: That's it!

J: I mean, if you want the real behind the music answer-

F: That's true!

J: It was like, "Well, you can't smoke indoors..."

F: We pretended it was creative differences. It was actually the smoking ban.

J: It was the smoking ban! And honestly, if they ever offered an outdoor festival, we could get back together because Shaun could smoke onstage. You quit though.

F: Yes!

S: Yeah, no cigarettes anymore, man. Yeah.

J: Now you've got nothing holding you back.

F: Meth. He's gonna smoke meth.

S: Now it's meth.

F: "I got this meth pen I keep. Yeah, it's terrible for my teeth, but at least I quit smoking."

J: Jesus. So, we went from one small space to another. So, we eventually outgrew Frank's mom's basement and then we went to a studio in Clifton that was in a warehouse.

F: Yeah.

J: And we got a very very very very small room. It was almost as small as the basement, and a lot less ventilated.

S: Oh, the first one!

J: The first room, yeah.

S: That's right!

F: Eventually, I'm pretty sure they turned that original room that we got-

J: Into a bathroom.

F: Into a bathroom, that's how small it was. It was like a single person bathroom, right?

J: Yeah.

F: But it was a lockout. You could go there 24 hours, it was yours to make as much noise and as loud as you wanted.

J: Absolutely.

F: It was sweaty as fuck. And I also remember, didn't the lights not work for a little while? So we had to keep the door open.

J: Yeah.

F: Do you remember that?

S: Is that true? I don't remember.

J: Yeah, we had a-

F: It may have just been a lightbulb, but no one replaced it!

J: Ok so, no matter how small the room is, the ceiling is really really high!

F: Yeah! Exactly, exactly.

J: So, I forget what it took to finally get one of us to like, borrow a ladder from- I think we borrowed a ladder from my dad.

F: Possibly!

J: We drove it down there, we changed the lightbulb, and that was it.

F:Yeah.

J: We had a Coke machine right next door. They made a lot of money off of us on that Coke machine.

F: Nothing tastes better than like, a cold canned Coke.

J: It was the only thing cold in that entire warehouse.

F: This is true, this is true.

J: So, we were in that room for a while and that's where- we probably wrote half of Heartbreak in Stereo, in your mom's basement. Some of the songs, I had leftover from when I was like, 13-14 years old, and that's why the subject matter- if you listen back to Heartbreak In Stereo, is very like, "Oh, a 14 year old kid with feelings wrote this."

F: There ya go, yeah!

J: Yeah. So then we wrote more of it in your mom's basement. I think we finished it in that small room in that rehearsal place.

F: I would say, yeah. Probably.

J: Yeah. And that's about the time like, we-

F: Well, there- you know what? I actually- I'm getting a flashback. There is an interstitial moment-

J: What's that?

F: Between my mom's basement and us going to hourly rehearsal studios, before the lockout. That was before, I think, a room had opened.

S: Right.

J: Oh, that was Backstage.

F: Right? There was Backstage, and then there was one on like, 1 and 3?

J: Oh, the one on 1 and 9?

F: 1 and 9, rather.

J: It was so hard to get to.

F: Yeah! It was so fucking-

J: It was so hard to get into. Most of us, we went there once. We went to Backstage a bunch of times. Now, Backstage Studios was in Little Falls, New Jersey.

F: Mhm, yep.

J: And I don't think it's there anymore.

F: I believe it's something else now.

J: It's something- I think it's called Smacktone now.

F: Okay.

J: So it was like, if you watch an 80s movie with the heavy metal bands, like this is where they practiced.

F: Oh, definitely.

J: And you know, all the amps were in various states of disrepair, they had pictures of all the bands that practiced there on the wall.

S: Yeah!

F: Mhm.

J: Including a picture of the guy who ran the place's old band, Transcontinental.

F: Oh, wow!

J: Right? And I remember this because like, you'd go in there, your friends would tell you like, "Hey, you know, Backstage is cool to practice at. You definitely wanna check it out. Check it out, it's fine, they're decent rates. They're cool if you cancel at the last second, they're not gonna like, gouge you, but you just ask for The Worm." And, I'm like-

F: The Worm!

J: "The Worm?" And like, "Yeah yeah yeah, just ask for The Worm." And I'm like, "Who- why do they call him The Worm?" Like, "Just ask for The Worm." And so, I remember going there once and I was like, "Hey, can I talk to The Worm?" And the guy got so pissed. Like, I don't even remember what his real name is, and he's like, "Don't call me that! No one calls me The Worm!" And he had like this thick German accent that I'm not going to insult the German people by trying to do that accent. Like, just imagine Hans Gruber yelling at you-

F: Oh Jesus!

J: -about trying to book your hourly rehearsal place. So we finally get there, we're going there for weeks, we're going there for weeks, and our friend Tim is looking at the pictures on the wall, and he sees the band Transcontinental. He's like, "Wow, that guy- oh my god, it's the guy that runs this place!" We all come over, we're all looking over. Now, everyone in this band is wearing like, the tightest like, you got poured into these jeans. And he had this big ol' dick that was just hanging down the side of his leg! You know like, in Police Academy where Steve Guttenberg puts the balloon down his pants? Yeah, except that this was all meat. And I'm like, "Wow, I guess that's why they call him The Worm!"

S: Oh fuck.

J: Yeah, so we didn't practice there too long... So after- What the fuck was that?

F: I have no idea! Did that come out of you?!

J: It wasn't me! Oh shit!

F: [imitates stomach gurgling] Please save that! I don't even care if it makes the- if it doesn't make the podcast! You just have to save it for us!

J: No, it's in there! So, after we learned the secret of The Worm, we ended up at the lockout. And the lockout, we spent a lot of time and we wrote the rest of the record, and we eventually recorded the record which became Heartbreak In Stereo. We went on our one ill-fated tour, and then uh, Neil left the band.

F: Mhm.

S: Wait, but at that practice space. Remember, isn't that when Hambone swallowed and then threw up a goldfish?

F: That was the rehearsal- that was the hourly! At Backstage, and I actually think that that-

J: I forgot that!

F: I think that is online somewhere. I think there's a video of that!

J: Don't Google it.

F: Oh.

J: I just, I'm sure it is. I'm sure it is.

F: I think it's like, the offical video for-

S: The Secret Goldfish.

F: The Secret Goldfish, yeah! That's how she got her name.

J: Holy shit, I completely forgot that I actually did that.

F: Yeah!

J: Why did I do that?

F: You were doing it for- that was your thing!

J: That was a party trick! That was a party trick that I used to do.

F: Yeah! You did it a couple times.

J: Yeah, if you had an aquarium in your house and I came to one of your parties in the late 90s, I'm really sorry!

F: "That's a really cool fish! It'd be cooler if it was inside me."

S: "I'm gonna swallow that fish. Hold on!"

F: "Don't worry, I'll give it back. I'm just gonna borrow it for a second."

J: Jesus Christ, I'm really sorry about that PETA. And anyone who-

F: Goddamn!

J: -who would be upset by this. I don't- I barely remembered that happened.

F: Well, here's the thing! Fish only have a like, memory for what, like 9 seconds or something, right?

S: Yeah, you might as well just swallow them. It doesn't matter.

F: Yeah! All I'm saying is if you hack them back up, like, he's gonna be alright. He's not gonna remember.

S: I don’t think they were alive though, were they?

F: Yes, they were!

S: They were?!

J: They were.

F: Very much so.

S: When you threw them back up?

J: Yeah.

F: Yeah!

S: Oh shit!

J: Oh god.

F: Alright, here's the thing. One, I don't remember how that started.

J: I don't remember. I think it was a dare.

F: I'm sure that- yeah.

J: Or I lost a bet.

F: But why did you think that you could do that? You know what I mean?! Like-

J: I don't remember! I think they uh- Oh! Because I think I was telling a story once how I used to be able to throw up on command to get out of going to school.

F: Yes! Yes, that's true, I remember you being able to do that.

J: Yeah, it was great because any time I needed to get out of school for something or like, you know, the bully was coming around, I'd get out of it.

F: Right.

J: So, yeah, I was pretty good at-

F: Nothing will stop a fight like throwing up on somebody!

J: Seriously, yeah.

F: That's true!

J: But we didn't even escalate it to that point. I would never even have to leave the house. You know?

F: I like that.

J: I was like, sitting around watching Sally Jesse Raphael in my pajamas while everyone's at work, because I was like, "I'm sick, I'm throwing up." It's like, "Well, now I'm gonna go eat this microwave pizza because I'm fine." So yeah, so I did that at Backstage, and then we got to the rehearsal space. When we got the lockout, we took it a little more seriously because we were definitely paying a lot more for it.

F: Yeah.

J: I think we were paying like 500 bucks a month for that like, tiny bathroom that we were practicing in.

F: Were we really?!

J: Yeah.

S: That's a lot!

F: That sounds like a lot, especially at that time!

J: Yeah.

F: I would say- that sounds high to me. But okay. I mean-

J: It was.

F: Yeah, that kinda goes back to like, the original origin story when we were talking about having the means to do this and sacrificing everything in your life. Like, that was truly us to a tee of, like, "Alright, well, I'm gonna not eat. I'll still buy cigarettes, know what I mean? And weed, but I'm gonna make this work so that-"

J: The important stuff!

F: Yeah! So you know, the creative stuff!

J: Creative juices, gets it flowing.

F: "So that I can do this." You know? I think, thank god we had really understanding families as well-

J: We did.

F: -you know, that didn't kick us out on our asses. At least not at that point. You know what I mean? That came later. But like-

J: Yeah, mine too.

F: Hey, at some point, you have to. That's the- Jersey curses a lot of people like, being 40 and being like, "Alright, I guess I have to get an apartment now." Like, a lot of people are still home. I mean, we moved out pretty early.

S: Yeah.

J: Yeah, I got out when I was 25. 24 or 25, and the only reason why, I think, I stayed as long as I did was because I was touring. So it was kind of, my home was a home base for me. So, it was about 500 bucks a month for this small room. We got the opportunity when another band broke up and-

F: Yes!

J: Subsequently, I think, 3 bands broke up in a room down the hall that was like, 2 and a half times the size of our room, broken up into 2 rooms.

S: Yeah.

F: Mhm.

J: Because there was a lounge room and an actual practice room.

F: Yeah. That was like the penthouse of fucking practice spaces.

J: It was like the penthouse, and it was almost- I think it was $1,200 a month.

S: Was it that much?!

J: Oh yeah.

S: Holy shit.

J: Yeah, so, I mean, I was waiting tables and working in bars at the same, so I was putting- I was paying for most of it.

F: Yeah.

J: To keep it afloat so we could keep having a place to practice, because you know, once we moved over to the new place, it was just I Am A Graveyard. And we started trying to share it with some other bands. Now, do you remember the way it was set up? I lived there for a little bit because I had a falling out with my parents.

S: Right.

F: Mhm.

J: Over like, you know, how much money and how much time I was spending in bands, and how I'd dropped out of college like, for the fourth time, and how I needed to find like, some level of responsibility. Where, when you really look at being a musician, being any kind of artist, like, it's a second job if you're taking it seriously. So, if you're putting in whatever hours you gotta put in to make ends- you know, 9-5 or like, graveyard shift, doing whatever you gotta do. And then you have your other job which is a full time job.

F: Oh, definitely.

J: Which, you know, for my parents and a lot of parents in our- in the older generation, they didn't understand that because things were supposed to be a certain way.

F: Mhm.

J: So I was living in the rehearsal studio for a while, and I remember it because the guys next door, their drummer was also living in the rehearsal studio as well, in their room. So we had- he was like my first neighbor. Like, my first apartment, he was my first neighbor. And in the lounge room, we had a TV set up. We had a full stereo, we had a little refrigerator, and we had a microwave.

F: Yes.

J: Now, what was cool was we had a Food Basics that was right in front of where he used to practice. So we were able to got there and I'd like, you know, get like full things of Chef Boyardee and like, little microwave food. So, it was a legit first apartment. And he did the same thing, and you know, knock on your neighbor's door to borrow a cup of sugar. Like, knock knock, "Do you have any Chef Boyardee?" And I'm like, "Yeah man, here's some Ramen, do your thing. Live your truth." Now, the funny thing is about where we were: Now our old room, years later, was turned into a bathroom and I still- I practice there on the regular, and that room is the bathroom that's right by where we practice on our floor. The bathroom where it used to be was on the third floor.

F: Right.

J: Now, the third floor bathroom was a murder bathroom.

F: Yeah, it was.

J: They had a lounge on the third floor with a couch that had- just, it just- covered in jizz. I mean, that couch is just- and we're talking like, jizz from like, three generations of musicians. And-

F: I never wanted to go up- I think we’d-

S: We used to pee in corners.

F: -pee in bottles.

J: We used to pee in like-

S: Oh, yeah, that's-

J: In Burger King cups.

S: I-

F: You just peed in the corner?! Goddamnit!

S: Well, not in our room! In the hallway!

F: Oh right, oh, yeah yeah.

J: No, we pissed in the room too. We did. We pissed in the room, we pissed in the cups, and the Gatorade bottles, and we'd leave them on the windowsill and some days, they'd fall over.

F: Sometimes, it happens.

J: And we almost- the first we almost got evicted was because the people in the warehouse downstairs were complaining because there were cups of falling piss, and they traced it back to our room.

F: It wasn't hard.

J: So, I'm living in the rehearsal studio, I'd have to go to the bathroom. And I'm there late at night, and it is scary there during the day. At night, it had like 3 stalls, and a couple urinals, and it had a shower.

S: Ugh!

F: Yeah.

J: I never used the shower there. I would always sneak back into my parents' house. Because as much as I was taking a stand, I was always sneaking back into their house and using the shower, or like, showering at a friend's house, because like, I thought I was gonna get murdered in this place!

F: Oh yeah, no. That- yeah. I'd rather get murdered than take a shower there.

J: Yeah, so. So bands would live there. They actually established a rule later on that bands are not allowed to have people living there.

F: Yeah.

J: Probably because of me.

F: Wow, yeah. And then also, unfortunately, like years and years later, someone passed away there.

J: Someone did die, yeah. There was a carbon monoxide leak, and unfortunately, someone did pass away there. So, it's- that's what we were up to. We were in that room and I come back one day, and so- There's two rooms. It's the lounge room and there is the main room which is huge. You could fit two bands, two and a half bands comfortably. I come back one day, and Mr. Shaun Simon just decides, "You know what? I don't like this wall here."

F: Yeah!

J: And he just demolished the wall.

F: Sledgehammered it.

S: What?!

F: Yeah! You don't remember this?!

S: No!

F: Oh my god! Alright.

S: Wait, between the two rooms?!

F: Yes!

J: Between the two rooms, yeah!

F: That's why it wasn't there anymore!

J: Yeah.

S: Come on!

F: You took a sledgehammer and knocked it down without telling anybody!

S: I couldn't have been the only one behind that.

F: Yes you were! Well, we- it had been talked about. "Oh, look at how much more space we would have if this wall wasn't here!"

J: And I said, "Don't do it! We'll probably get in so much trouble."

F: "Yeah, we don't own this fucking place!"

J: Now, mind you there is-

F: Also, none of us are knowledgeable enough to know how to do this the right way!

J: So it's in an industrial park, right?

F: Yes.

J: So there's a giant dumpster outside. So I come in one day, and there's all this like, sheet rock and like, wood and shit in the dumpster, and I'm like, "Oh, that's crazy." And then I look up- and I looked at it and I see the sheet rock, and it's painted, and it's this green color. And I was like, "Wow, that's- that looks like our room's green color."

F: "That's a familiar emerald green."

J: "I wonder if other rooms are painted the same way." And then I walked in, and mind you, the- in the lounge area, I had completely wallpapered the walls with different posters and different pictures and stuff like that. So, the lounge had its own atmosphere. Well, no more! Because I come in and all that's left is this power strip that goes down to a four panel electrical socket.

F: Yes, that's now just dangling because-

J: Right in the middle of the room.

S: I didn't do that by myself!

F: Yes you did!

S: Really?!

F: I- Yes! And I'll tell you how I know that you did it.

S: Wait. You weren't there with me?! I was-

F: No! I showed up-

S: Come on!

F: -and you were covered in sheet rock, with goggles on, holding a hammer! A large sledgehammer!

S: Really?!

F: And I was like, "Oh my god!"

S: Because this sounds like something we would've done together.

F: Yeah it does, but we didn't!

S: Fuck!

J: Well, yeah, because I immediately blamed you!

F: I know! And I was like, "I told him this was a bad idea!" I- yeah, none of us were-

S: Wow!

F: Yeah. First off, here's the thing. You're renting a place that is a certain way.

J: Yes.

F: You can't just knock down a wall. Or you shouldn't, at least, without permission. Also, none of us were knowledgeable to do anything like that. Like-

J: Right.

F: I feel like you should have some sort of experience in construction and/or demolition and/or electrical and/or- yeah! Of course.

J: Like, my brother is a contractor now.

F: Yes.

J: Back then, not so much. But I think he probably took woodshop, so he at least would've had a better idea on what to do. So, now we had this completely double wide room.

F: Yeah!

J: And then we started inviting other bands. And so, at one point, in there we had Murder By Death.

F: Yep.

J: We had Thursday, and then eventually- well, The Hostage was there.

F: The Banner.

J: The Banner, and then My Chem.

F: Day at the Fair was there.

J: Day at the Fair was there for like a hot second. They were just kinda passing through. It's crazy though because I did go to Asbury Lanes the other night to see Thursday perform. And they wrote War All The Time in our room.

F: Mhm.

J: You guys wrote Bullets.

F: Yep.

J: In our room. The Banner wrote like, a record in our room as well. So, I mean, everyone put out stuff in that rehearsal space, which I think is pretty cool.

S: And My Chem also shot your first video for Vampires.

F: We did! And Murder by Death did a video.

S: Did they?

J: Yeah.

F: Yeah. Alright, so back into construction.

J: Right.

F: I feel like, once the wall came down, like the Berlin Wall, all bets were off. It was like, "Now we can do anything!"

J: "Now we can do anything."

F: "We're free! We're free to do whatever." And we built a set for that video within the room, and then decided to keep it. Like, we made flooring.

S: Yeah.

F: I remember that was another thing too was, we put down these like, plywood sheets-

J: Right.

F: Then Gerard and I painted all that stuff overnight.

J: Yeah!

F: And got so high from the fumes that it was like, "What are we- I don't even know what we're doing." Like, you know- it was crazy!

J: Well, speaking of Gerard, it's funny because we- he and I one night, I don't even know how it happened, but I think you had paint leftover. So we painted the door.

S: That's right!

J: Not the inside of the door.

F: No, the outside, yeah.

J: We painted the outside of the door to the room black. And I had a stencil of Elvis, so we got white paint, and we got a bunch of other stencils, and we painted the little picture of Elvis on top, and the door itself said, "Who will survive and what will be left of them?"

F: Yep.

J: And that's why Murder By Death named that record that they wrote there Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them.

F: Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

J: Because at that point, we've already done construction, we're doing whatever the fuck we want in this place.

F: Fuck it, yeah!

J: So many bands had shot their videos there.

F: "Try to kick us out!"

J: Oh, they tried.

F: Yeah.

J: However, do you know what saved us?

F: Umm, love.

J: Uh, no.

F: No, oh, okay.

J: I narced on another band.

F: What?!

J: No, it had to be done.

F: Uh oh.

J: So, there was a guy who was the property manager there.

F: Okay.

J: Right? And you know, you'd run into other bands in the parking lot and people are like, "Man, like, am I crazy or- my knobs on my amp are all like, turned differently." And like, "Yeah, I'm missing like, this piece of my gear. I'm missing this piece of my gear." Like, there was stuff that would go missing, stuff that would be kind of moved around in rooms. Like, people were going in with the dude and messing around with people's gear, and like stealing stuff, and doing whatever.

S: Oh.

F: Oh, wow!

J: Because he had a master key.

F: Right.

J: So, him and his friends used to party up on the third floor on the aforementioned jizz couch, and one night, they wrecked the entire third floor.

F: I remember that!

J: There as a giant stuffed bear. Like the giant stuffed bears they sell at Costco now, that are the size of like, an actual full sized bear.

F: Yes. I have one in that closet and I'm saving it for Christmas.

J: Do you really? Just ripped apart, like, stuffing everywhere. So, we had just been blamed for like, the pee cups, we had been blamed for- they were mad at us for painting the door. All this stuff is going down. So, I just marched right into the office. And I walked in and- also, the rent was coming mostly from me, it was constantly late. So, you know, they're already on us for paying the rent late, so I just march right in the office and I go see the guy, George, who's running the place. And I sit down and he's like, "What do you want?" And I said, "Listen, out of respect for you and out of respect for your establishment, and out of self-preservation, I'm gonna tell you that it wasn't us who wrecked the third floor. Because I know, we've been getting blamed for everything." And he's like, "Well, because you guys do everything." And I was like, "Well, you know, be that what it is-"

F: "Neither here nor there!"

J: "We did not wreck the third floor." "Well, who did?" And I was like, "Well, who do you think wrecked the third floor?" I was like, "Who has a key to everything?" I was like, you know, "Who has access to the place even more than the bands do?" And he got like, real quiet for a second and I was like, "You know, just think about that. Just know, it wasn't us." And he got up, and he says, "Well, that took a lot of integrity for you to march in here like that," and he shook my hand, and he said, "Thank you very much," and we never had a problem again.

F: Hm.

J: So, I didn't actually say who it was, I just, you know-

S: Right.

J: Alluded.

F: Interesting. I'm still not putting the pieces together. I have no idea who did it.

J: Oh, he knew.

F: I think it was Shaun, to be honest!

S: Honestly, it might've been.

F: It might've been!

S: Might've been. I could've- I wouldn't know.

F: Blacked out, tore down a wall, and killed the stuffed bear.

J: Yeah.

S: You would think I was doing a lot of drugs but I never did.

F: No!

J: You didn't.

S: Never.

J: You know, for those listening at home, it was the burnout on the jizz couch with the giant bear.

F: Oh, man.

J: Mystery solved.

F: Mr. Mustard.

J: Yeah, so eventually, you know, we did ultimately leave that studio. Everyone eventually left that studio. For the time and place though, it was pretty hopping. We had a lot of fun there, and we also-

F: I met my wife there.

J: You did meet your wife there.

F: Yeah, first time I ever met her.

J: Isn't that cool?

S: I think I met my wife, too!

F: Yes, probably!

S: I think she showed up in the studio one day.

F: Isn't that weird?

S: That's fucking weird.

J: I wasn't so lucky.

F: Aww.

J: So, we are gonna wrap up this episode and next episode, we're gonna talk a little bit about touring, and a little bit about traveling back in the day, versus what it's like to tour and travel today. Frank, do you have any last thoughts on the studio?

F: Oh geez. Well, one thing that I do not miss, is the death trap of an elevator that you would have to load out of.

S: Oh god.

J: Oh god.

F: That was always- I still have nightmares about it. Here's the thing. It's a freight elevator, that sometimes would run, and sometimes wouldn't run. And you would have to kinda stick your hand into the guts of it and pull a rope to let you go up or down.

J: Right.

F: And there's a sign that like, you know, “easy to read” is questionable, that said like, you're not supposed to ride inside it. But if you didn't, it would send all your gear all the way down to like, this dark basement that was half flooded and full of snakes and bugs and rats and bullshit, and then you would never get your gear again. So, you had to ride in there to actually operate the elevator and make sure it got off at the right floor.

J: Scary.

F: Yeah. It almost was set up as a guillotine, where there was a space open in it and if you had any kind of appendage or a head sticking out, it would cut you off as it fell to the floor. I still have nightmares about that elevator and I'm so glad that I never have to go on that thing again.

J: How about you, Shaun? Any final thoughts on the studio?

S: I remember- because as you were saying that you did pay for most of us- I mean, I didn't have a job at the time. I remember buying you a car.

F: Ah!

J: You did buy me a car!

S: To make up for that-

F: How about that?!

S: At some point.

F: Yes.

J: That was the single greatest gift, I think, anyone has ever given me.

F: Green Hell!

J: Green Hell.

F: Green Hell!

S: And it was like, I remember I bought it, and you and Frank showed up and it was sitting in the parking lot.

F: Yes.

S: Is that what happened?

F: That was incredible.

J: So, Shaun and I got fired from this supermarket reset job that we had, that we're gonna talk about a little more in the next episode, because it does have to do with traveling and how we used to travel back then.

S: Oh, yeah.

J: So, we were driving around. And I was driving the Pencey Prep van around and it was my daily driver car. I sold my car to get the van. Holy shit, was that a bad deal! So, I'm driving the Pencey Prep van around and that's the only motor transportation I had. We drive past this dude's house, and on the street, there is a '69 Ford LTD, murder black with neon green flames. Like, Rat Thing (?) green.

F: Oh, so cool.

J: And I was like, "Oh man, I wish I had a car like that." I'm just like, so tired of driving this van around. Because like, you know, running out and just trying to go to the supermarket, or go to the liquor store to get a 6-pack, im with this giant murder van. And so, I was driving Frank around for something, I came back to my house, and it's parked out in front of my driveway. Shaun actually went out and bought the car. He knocked on the guy's door, and made a deal, and I own this beautiful vintage car that was a monster, and people thought I was so much tougher than I was.

F: Oh, yeah.

J: Because im driving around in there, but man, I'm a big ol' softie.

F: That was a badass gift, dude.

J: That was a fantastic gift.

S: Well, it was a very Hambone car.

J: It was a very Hambone car.

F: It was, absolutely.

J: And i've never forgotten that, Shaun. Thank you for that, man, that meant the entire world to me.

F: Well, you did until we just reminded you. So.

J: So, we're gonna wrap up this episode. Frank, where can people find you?

F: I am on Twitter @frankiero. I am on Instagram @frankieromustdie. And I have a website, frank-iero.com

J: Very cool. Shaun, you got anything you wanna plug?

S: Wizard Beach is still on its way out. I don't know when this is gonna show.

J: This'll either be right before or right after Wizard Beach. Definitely go and check out Wizard Beach when it hits stands. And who's putting it out?

S: BOOM! Studios.

J: BOOM! Studios, Wizard Beach, check that out. You can find me at maitaitv.com for my other podcast, Mai Tai Happy Hour. It is a Tiki pop culture podcast. You could also find me, The Vintage RPG podcast, wherever great podcasts are listened to. And for Frank Iero and Shaun Simon, I'm John "Hambone" McGuire. Join us next month for another episode of Casual Interactions. Until then, hold onto your friends.

#frank iero #hambone #shaun simon #casual interactions #2 #casual interactions 2 #full transcription

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes - jealousy, jealousy

Warnings - self deprecation, allusions to body dysmorphia, insecurity swearing.

He arrives like a ghost, his presence unannounced, unnoticed until I turn on my heel and spot a shadow. His metal arm catches in the dimming light. He’s holding a tissue, dabbing his forehead with it, and I assume he’s just been sparring with someone in the training room.

“How did you—”

“Sam. Steve. FRIDAY.” I nod knowingly. “I was waiting through Thor’s session. He’s a bit…”

“Of a himbo? Yes,” I agree, smiling. “How you doin’ James?”

His sigh shifts the cushions around him, so he makes himself comfy with some shuffling, and only moves forwards when I begin to pour him a mug of tea. I shake my head; he smiles gratefully.

“I’m ok… takin’ it day by day.”

“That’s all you can do, Buck.”

My fingers skim his as I pass him a mug, settling beside him on the couch. Leaning into his warmth is instinctive.

“What about you? How’re you holding up?” he asks, his voice a little gruff.

“I’m…” I trail off, my eyes fluttering as I ferret for the right word before deciding he’d rather know the truth, “great. I mean I’m still healing, but I wrote these songs, and that really helped me. I just wanna help you how you helped me.”

He smiles sadly, his flesh hand snaking around my knee. His next words are a broken whisper. “I know about you and Stephen.”

“But Bucky… you don’t like me that way.”

“I know.” His Brooklyn accent slips back into place when he’s talking from the heart. I’ve heard it a lot recently. “But I care about you. I just want you happy after the shit he pulled on you.”

“I am. I will be,” I promise. “This song… it’s one of them that isn’t exactly about the break up? But more about our shared mentality, everything we’ve gone through. It’s called ‘jealousy, jealousy.’ I hope you like it, because without you I wouldn’t have been able to write it.”

His dimples spring tears to my eyes. “If you wrote it, I already love it.”

He sips his tea, and lets go of me, allowing me to shuffle back to my seat, and collect my guitar. He’s patient while I plug it in and tinker around with the bass and volume knobs.

Once ready, I begin to pluck out a staccato quaver idea in the key of Bb minor. I’m not saying I hate this key, but I do wish I’d written it in D minor instead, to erase five flats from the signature.

My lyrics pick up on the second repeat.

‘I kinda wanna throw my phone across the room

'Cause all I see are girls too good to be true

With paper-white teeth and perfect bodies

Wish I didn't care.’

Bucky’s breathing is already faltering despite his superhuman strength. He had a small crisis after getting a smartphone, realising he was… chunkier than some of the bodybuilders plastered all over his instagram. He’s still not convinced he’s as handsome as they are, and he’s still concerned he doesn’t have the perfect masculine aesthetic body.

After my ex went to her, with the perfect hourglass silhouette and flowing, glossy blonde hair, too much money spent on orthodontics and plastic surgery, I went to that dark place within, doubting my own surface attractiveness before realising I’m drop dead, fuck off gorgeous, and it’s his loss if he can’t see that. I wouldn’t have been able to overcome it without Bucky and his openness, though. I owe a lot to him.

‘I know that beauty is not my lack

But it feels like that weight is on my back

And I can't let it go.’

When Buck is constantly compared to the American symbol of masculinity and attraction for the past eighty years, a heavy burden falls on his shoulders. Sure, maybe he isn’t as lean or quite as tall as Steve, but he’s a stunning man. Tabloids make articles studying his muscle mass, comparing him to sightings of the Winter Soldier over the years. How can anyone let their insecurities go with that happening? Everything about my own turmoil pales in comparison.

He sips from his mug thoughtfully.

‘Co-comparison is killin' me slowly

I think, I think too much

'Bout kids who don't know me.’

A lot of my fears, as I expressed to James, stemmed from what his friends used to say about me, comparing me to their girlfriends. Before long, I was doing it to myself. I spoke to him about it before the breakup but only afterwards did he open up to me about his feelings and insecurities. The people who scrutinise him don’t know him, and the girls I compared myself to don’t know me. Looks aren’t everything, and without Bucky, I might still be stuck in a superficial rut.

‘I'm so sick of myself

I'd rather be, rather be

Anyone, anyone else

But jealousy, jealousy

Started followin' me.’

I implement a riff on my final word to draw the syllable out. My words ring true, though, and I see Bucky's blue eyes twinkling, his head shaking in recognition. We drank together until early morning, deprecating ourselves, expressing elements we hated, the jealousy haunting us until we fell asleep for the rest of the day, only to find, once we woke up, that we didn’t hate ourselves as much anymore. Bucky started to accept himself, stopped wanting to be someone else as much. I may get sick of myself, but never of Bucky and the ways he’s helped me.

‘And I see everyone gettin' all the things I want

And I'm happy for them, but then again, I'm not

I can't stand it, oh, God, I sound crazy.’

I know I’m a Stark, I know I’m a spoiled brat with more money than God, but I still have problems, I still get my heart broken. And Bucky, growing up through the war not well off, losing years of his life and being subjected to only God knows what. He has no reason to be happy for others if something doesn’t go his way, and I’m glad he told me about this when it mattered most. Perspective is key. He taps his forehead twice, and between lines, I do the same.

‘Their win is not my loss

I know it's true

But I can't help gettin' caught up in it all.’

Bucky said that to me once. “Their win isn’t your loss, Doll. Don’t get caught.” and it was before everything kicked off. His wink carries a sad undertone, signalling that he’s only just understanding how much his words have stuck with me. I want to say something to him but I don’t. I just continue plucking at my strings as I repeat the chorus, and head into the bridge.

‘All your friends are so cool, you go out every night

In your daddy's nice car, yeah, you're livin' the life

Got a pretty face, pretty boyfriend, too

I wanna be you so bad, and I don't even know you.’

His metal arm is the fuel to Bucky’s fire of insecurity, something I could never imagine. He hates having a prosthetic, and the body image issues it gives him are indescribable. The only fight Bucky and I have ever had is when he said those exact words to me when I thought my problems were the end of the world. He apologised afterwards, but I told him resolutely not to, because I needed some perspective. Everybody does. So even if I get jealous and insecure at times, I know I’m ok, thanks to Buck.

‘All I see is what I should be

Happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy

All I see is what I should be

I'm losin' it, all I get's, jealousy, jealousy.’

We’ve both carried a hell of a lot of jealousy for a long time, and I feel as though we can only shoulder past that, and come to accept ourselves, with the help of each other. His time in HYDRA won’t go away easily, but I’ll be his friend until he’s happier, and knows how loved he is, and that he shouldn’t be anything more than he already is.

A recitative type melody projects from my diaphragm, a shouting nature to my lyrics, carrying power both in word and emphasis. I feel like the repetition adds impact, my eyes closing and my fingers working on the strings from muscle memory alone as both Bucky and I sink into the emotions of the final chorus. I add ornaments: trills, glissandos, vibrato, riffs, just to vary the melody, some of the really high notes sung in head voice rather than belted at such a crucial part of the song. This pianissimo softness reaches a supported belt, though, by the very final line, my guitar strings vibrating. This contrasts with the final line, low and unaccompanied.

‘Started followin' me.’

His mug clinks on the glass table the second silence falls. That soft, Labrador-reminiscent, lopsided grin breaks out over his face as he holds his arms open for me, making grabby hands. I unplug my guitar and launch myself to him, sinking my fingers into his silky chocolate locks.

"'m proud-a you."

I cock my head at him, my brows knitting together. His laugh rumbles through me as his arms tie around my back, keeping me close.

"For never finishin' your verbs."

It's my turn to giggle, my head falling to the crook of his neck, listening to his heart beat.

“Thank you, Bean,” he whispers against the juncture of my shoulder and neck.

His words echo through my body like a prayer, “Thank you, Buck. You’ve helped me so much.”

He pulls away, his hair tickling my cheeks before cupping one in his flesh palm, warm and rough and so human. “You’ve helped me too. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” I tell him. “I won’t.”

95 notes · View notes

make-it-mavis · 5 years

Text

fun idea that i’d like to draw in theory but probably won’t because i know me

my original turbo in 2013 owned an electric guitar but only pretended he knew how to play it. i cut that out of the new narrative because like...... why would a racing game come equipped with a guitar, right? i mean, he could have acquired one from elsewhere like mavis did with her acoustic, but i was like, y’know what, as much as i love the idea, i already made him hotter than he oughtta be, giving him a cool guitar would be pushing it LOL

but thanks to a certain hacking handyman friend (you know who you are) i recently found out that the turbo-time theme song (one of them) is basically just 80′s metal. a fact that brings me more joy than i can accurately portray. thank you for validating my portrayal of the boy in a very real way.

BUT in that lies my fun idea. since the theme song is metal, that means metal’s in the code of turbo’s game in one way or another, right? if that’s the case, what if he had a natural inclination for it that he wasn’t even aware of?

i’d already decided a while ago that mavis attempts to teach him to play acoustic with little success, but likes watching him try anyways. mostly to be a dick about it, which only motivates turbo even further, to really stick it to her for laughing at him. but he just can’t get it right. he understands the instructions, but the instrument itself doesn’t agree with him. he can’t get it to sound the way it’s supposed to. often leading to him claiming its broken. a weak claim, given that mavis plays it as easy as speaking.

she likes to gloat about it to piss him off, saying stuff like “don’t feel bad, i was a master at this only five months after touching a guitar for the first time. not everyone’s that gifted”

then one day a game with lots of instruments is plugged in, yknow, something like guitar hero but...... 80s. and they go scope it out. turbo does the major eyes emoji at an electric guitar and starts fiddling with it, and mav’s like “ohhh yes yes yes i gotta see this shit its gonna be hilarious,” but then he just plays a short riff perfectly

they’re equally confused. mav’s like ok this must be a sort of auto-playing thing and takes it, but when she tries to play, it sounds like complete garbage because electric is quite different from acoustic. she just looks at him like “no fucking way” and he takes it back like “YES fucking way you smug little asshole,” cranks the volume to 11, and just

fuckin shreds

til mav’s just flattened to the floor, smoking and sizzling like a cartoon character after an explosion

IT AIN’T FUCKIN FAIR HOW CAN HE DO THAT IN LIKE 5 SECONDS IT TOOK HER 5 MONTHS ITS SOME BULLSHIT TRICK HE MADE UP TO SAVE HIS EGO AND APPEAR MORE ATTRACTIVE

but give it time and they’re jamming together and it’s all good

so maybe i’ll give him a guitar again. maybe. lol

#infodump #this was supposed to be short #again

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guitarsandviolins · 6 years

Text

Guitars and Violins Chapter 10

Chapter 10: On the Road/Disaster strikes (Or so they think)

This Chapter contain smut. Warning

(Disclaimer! I own nothing of Korra!)

Korra was asleep on the bed and the phone rang.

She picked it up.

“Hello?” asked Korra, “You’ve reached the house of the guitarist of the Tone Benders.”

“Korra, turn the TV on right now!” said Bolin, “You’ll wanna see this!”

“What is it?” asked Korra.

“They’re announcing the winners!” said Mako.

“WHAT?!” she asked.

She quickly got up and turned the TV on.

There were announcers talking about the winners of the Blue Moon festival.

They were going through a long list of bands that were able to play.

“And the last two bands that will play at this show…..” said the male announcer, “Are the Tone Benders!”

Korra cheered loud same with Bolin and the others.

“And… Berzerk!” said the announcer.

Korra was surprised.

“Wait a minute what the hell?!” she said.

Kuvira was drinking with her band as a celebration of getting in.

“This is it guys,” said Kuvira, “Our first step to rockstardom.

Asami was practicing her scales on the violin.

Korra ran up to her.

“Hey Korra wha….” Said Asami.

Korra interrupted her with a kiss.

“What was that for?” asked Asami as she smiled and blushed.

“I won the contest,” said Korra, “We’re performing at the Blue Moon Fest!”

“I’m so happy for you,” said Asami, “And actually, Professor Cowan wanted me to talk to you.”

“What about?” asked Korra.

“Well they’re doing a cover of 21st century schizoid man, but their guitarist cancelled and he’s in need of a new one,” said Asami, “I recommended you.”

Korra kissed her again.

“Thanks ‘Sami,” said Korra.

Kuvira was meeting with Professor Cowan.

“So that’s my story,” he said, “That song we’re doing could use a guitar player.”

“And you want me to let you use my guitarist?” asked Kuvira.

“Exactly,” said Cowan.

Kuvira thought for a moment.

“You got a deal,” said Kuvira, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” asked Cowan.

“I have some trouble trying to rid myself of a…. rodent,” said Kuvira, “She’s interfering with my dreams of stardom.”

“Would this rodent happen to be Korra?” asked Cowan.

“Lucky guess,” said Kuvira.

“Then how can I be of service?” asked Cowan.

“So I hear you’re doing a cover of 21st century schizoid man,” said Kuvira, “Don’t allow Korra to play guitar for you. That’s why I’m letting you use Desna to play for you.”

She gave him some cash.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Professor Cowan.

A few minutes later Korra was sitting in listening to the orchestra’s cover of the song.

“Alright,” said Korra, “This seems doable.”

“Alright, orchestra dismissed,” said Professor Cowan.

He handed Korra a lead sheet.

“Varrick says you know how to perform on that instrument and can sight read anything right?” he asked.

“Correct,” said Korra.

“Well, as it so happens, I ran into another guitarist,” said Cowan.

Desna peeked his head through.

“Am I late?” he asked.

“Perfect timing,” said Cowan, “I gave him a sheet earlier, and now I just wanna give you both a crack at it.”

Korra plugged into her amp and started playing.

She was doing well, but she slipped up and Cowan stopped her.

“Not quite right,” said Cowan, “Desna?”

Desna plugged in and played a phrase perfectly.

“Excellent!” said Cowan

“Wha….” Said Korra.

“This is the beauty of orchestra and live bands together,” said Cowan, “Who knows, if you keep this up, you might be the next big star.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” asked Korra, “This shit?”

Cowan’s phone rang.

“Excuse me,” he said as he went into his office.

Desna turned to Korra.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” said Desna as he grinned.

Korra went into Cowan’s office.

“Look I just slipped up one time, but I can play it right,” said Korra.

“Now is not the time,” said Cowan.

“Look…..” said Korra.

“I SAID NOT NOW!” he shouted, “If you want the fucking part, then earn it.”

Korra stepped outside.

She was having lunch with Asami.

“Looks like he’s trying to steal your thunder,” said Asami, “But I know you’ll earn that part.”

“Thanks Asami,” said Korra, “I just can’t believe I screwed up on that part.”

“Accidents happen Korra,” said Asami, “Even to the best of musicians.”

“True,” said Korra.

Asami thought of something.

“You still have that lead sheet for that song?” asked Asami.

“I do,” said Korra, “Why’s that?”

Asami kissed Korra’s forehead.

“You’ll see,” she said smiling.

Korra was doing some drills to train herself on 21st century schizoid man.

She finished and then looked at Asami.

“Alright,” said Asami, “You’re doing well on the speed, now we just need to work on the clarity.”

“What do you mean?” asked Korra.

“While you are good at speeding up on certain tough sections, the notes need to be heard and not so scratchy,” said Asami, “Observe.”

Asami played a riff on her electric guitar.

“Whoa,” said Korra.

“Its not a tough task,” said Asami, “Its just about where and how you fret your fingers.”

“Ok,” said Korra.

She tried the phrase again making sure each note she played was clear.

“Yeah!” said Asami, “There you go.”

“I really appreciate you doing this,” said Korra, “I really wanna show Kuvira’s guitarist who really rocks it.”

“Anything to help my girlfriend,” said Asami.

Korra smiled.

Mako and the gang were setting up for rehearsal.

“Where’s Korra?” asked Bolin.

“She said she was gonna be late,” said Thano, “Said she had some things going on.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Looks like she got done fast,” said Mako.

He opened the door and it was Desna.

“What’s he doing here?” asked Bolin.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like there’s something going on with your guitar player,” said Desna.

“What do you mean?” asked Bolin.

Desna grinned.

Korra and Asami were heading to the rehearsal space.

Mako, and Bolin were looking at her.

“Korra we gotta talk,” said Mako.

“What’s going on?” asked Korra.

“Its Desna,” said Tahno, “He’s been making up this rumour that you’re leaving us to make your own band.”

“He what?” asked Korra.

“I didn’t believe it for a minute,” said Bolin, “But we just gotta make sure of it.”

“No way, I love performing with you guys,” said Korra.

“Honestly, I thought you were gonna ask her to spend less time with me,” said Asami.

“What, no!” said Mako, “We’d never do that.”

“Good,” said Asami.

“So you got a plan leader?” asked Korra.

“A great one,” said Tahno, “Pretend that the band is breaking up, and then when it gets to the big show we’ll surprise them.”

“With the rumour out, the other band thinks they’ll be able to take it easy and perform lazily,” said Mako, “And when they least expect it, BAM!”

He slammed his bass case down.

“We rock their socks off,” said Bolin.

Korra grinned and said, “Great. So that means we’ll have to find another rehearsal spot.”

“I got that covered,” said Asami.

They wer soon rehearsing at a space in Asami’s mansion.

Buddy Holly by Weezer

Tahno: What's with these homies, dissing my girl? Why do they gotta front? What did we ever do to these guys That made them so violent? Woo-hoo, but you know I'm yours Woo-hoo, and I know you're mine Woo-hoo, and that's for all time Oo-ee-oo I look just like Buddy Holly Oh-oh, and you're Mary Tyler Moore I don't care what they say about us anyway I don't care bout that Don't you ever fear, I'm always near I know that you need help Your tongue is twisted, your eyes are slit You need a guardian Woo-hoo, and you know I'm yours Woo-hoo, and I know you're mine Woo-hoo, and that's for all time Oo-ee-oo I look just like Buddy Holly Oh-oh, and you're Mary Tyler Moore I don't care what they say about us anyway I don't care bout that I don't care bout that Bang, bang a knock on the door Another big bang and you're down on the floor Oh no! What do we do? Don't look now but I lost my shoe I can't run and I can't kick What's a matter babe are you feeling sick? what's a matter, what's a matter, what's a matter you? What's a matter babe, are you feeling blue? oh-oh! And that's for all time And that's for all time Oo-ee-oo I look just like Buddy Holly Oh-oh, and you're Mary Tyler Moore I don't care what they say about us anyway I don't care bout that I don't care bout that I don't care bout that I don't care bout that

“Yeah, my parents were super rich, and now I inherit their money,” said Asami.

“That’s amazing Asami,” said Korra.

“Not as amazing as you sound on that guitar,” said Asami.

Korra smiled.

Later that evening Korra and Asami were up on top of the mansion.

“I really had fun hanging at your pad,” said Korra.

“I’m glad you did,” said Asami.

She was thinking about something that Opal said to her earlier.

In the flashback, Opal was teaching Asami an ecchi move.

“Something that could really turn Korra on is something like this,” said Opal.

She got closer to Asami and their nipples started to rub while she held on to her shoulders.

“W-what’s happening?” asked Asami.

“Its called a nipple rub,” said Opal, “You rub two nipples against each other until one of you has an orgasm.”

She continued to run their nipples together.

After a few minutes Opal started to moan with pleasure.

She then had an orgasm.

“Whoever orgasms first loses the game,” said Opal.

“That felt surprisingly good,” said Asami.

Opal grinned.

“You should try that with Korra,” she said.

Asami then looked at Korra.

“Korra…..” said Asami.

“Yea ‘Sami?” asked Korra.

“I’m horny,” she said.

She pinned Korra to a wall.

Korra was surprised.

Asami then placed her hands under her shirt and started to unhook Korra’s bra and take it off her.

“Sami?” asked Korra.

She then took her own bra off.

“Just relax,” said Asami as she grinned, “And leave your body to me.”

Asami pressed her breasts against Korra’s and they started to rub.

Inside, Korra’s mind was going wild.

She managed to let out a soft moan.

Asami continued to rub them together and started kissing Korra.

“Sami, that…. Feels so good,” said Kora.

“I know,” said Asami.

Korra was reaching her hands out to touch Asami, but she quickly stopped her.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” said Asami as she pinned them down.

Asami rubbed her boobs on Korra’s and she started to moan a little louder.

Korra felt something and had an orgasm, and her panties were soaking wet.

“Sami…” Korra said.

“Yes?” asked Asami with a devilish grin.

“You’re turning me on,” said Korra.

She turned the tables on Asami and kissed her neck.

The two of them started kissing as Korra felt Asami’s ass.

Korra picked Asami up and carried her into the room as they continued to kiss.

She then removed her tie.

“I’m gonna make you beg for more,” said Korra.

She started playing with Asami’s nipples.

Asami moaned with excitement.

“Why are you always focusing on my nipples?” asked Asami.

“That’s because they’re your horny switch,” said Korra.

She pulled Asami’s shirt open revealing her white perky globes.

“You have such a hot bod,” said Korra.

“So do you,” said Asami, “I wish I had a chest like yours.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Korra.

She sucked on her nipples and Asami moaned louder.

Asami pulled Korra closer and kissed her ear.

“You’re horny, you know that,” said Korra.

“Yes I do,” said Asami.

Korra flicked Asami’s nipples with her tongue and Asami had an orgasm.

“We’re even,” said Korra.

Later, the two of them were in the bed.

Asami snuggled with Korra .

“Dating you was the best thing to ever happen in my life,” said Asami.

“Mine too,” said Korra.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oirtBNejdr0

#korrasami #guitars and violins #korrasami smut #korrasami lemon #korrasamimusicianau #the legend of korra #korra #asami #Asami Sato

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