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chrispevanss · 4 years ago

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Under Your Cover

A/N: This is my (incredibly) late entry to @allaboardthereadingrailroad Marvel Diversity Challenge. My prompt was ‘Swimming Pool Summer’ by Capital Cities. If you enjoy, drop a comment, leave a reblog, send me a message, let me know!

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2293

“Bucky,” The name slipped through your lips as a pitiful whimper. Your nails scraped across his scalp, down the smooth expanse of his back. Bucky’s hands balled the sheets next to your head, his hips slapped against yours, desperate to reach that ethereal high.

“Yeah princess, just like that.” Bucky’s hoarse grunts pierced your ears, drawing you closer to your end. One hand absently trailed down your body, a single fingertip skated across your clit, sending waves of pleasure screaming through your body.

“I’m, oh god, yes!” Your mouth hung open in a silent O as your orgasm took over. It stole the words from your lips, replacing them with guttural moans, and scrapes of your nails down your partner’s back. Bucky followed a handful of thrusts later, his own orgasm turning him into a feral animalistic man. Large hands gripped your hips, sure to leave bruises behind, a reminder of who you belonged to.

When your head finally surfaced again, you were pulled into the soft expanse of Bucky’s arms. His lips peppered kisses along your head, his hand, mindlessly twirled across the naked expanse of your back. His skin was warm, and you could smell the intoxicating cocktail of his cologne and sweat where your head lay in his neck.

The soft thump thump of the bass from the party below brought you fully back to reality. Back to the reality that this was just a casual thing, that come tomorrow you would go back to work, and Bucky would go back to saving the world.

“We know Stark throws great parties, but I think the best party is the one we make in the bedroom,” Bucky chuckled into your hair. A smile found its way across your lips, a giggle broke the silence between the two of you.

You lay in bliss for a few more stolen moments. But that bubble of bliss was soon popped by a sharp, persistent knock on the bedroom door. With a groan, Bucky climbed out of bed, sliding his gray boxer briefs over his pert ass. The knock came again, harder and more persistent.

“Gimme a second!” His tone reached toward exasperation. He fished his pants out of the pile of clothes and flung the door open, pants half zipped. And came almost nose to nose with a tall, well built blonde on the other side.

“Bucky!” He drunkenly slurred. Bucky finished zipping his pants and sighed, shoving his hands in the front pockets.

“Steve, I’m a little busy here. Why don’t you go downstairs, have some water and I’ll come find you when I’m done okay?” Bucky said protectively. He slid the plastic cup from Steve’s palm, much to the latter’s disdain.

“Fine,” Steve pouted. Bucky closed the door, the click of the latch the sweetest sound you had heard that night.

“Now where were we?” Bucky started to shuck off his pants and underwear again. He knelt at the end of the bed, staring at you with unbridled lust in his eyes. He crawled toward you, the dim light glinted off the thin layer of sweat on his body, and you had to swallow down a desperate moan.

After Bucky made you come undone twice more, you lay next to him, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his body.

“I should probably go check on Steve,” He laughed, breaking the silence.

You reluctantly crawled out of the large bed, grabbing your own clothes from the pile, leaving your panties for Bucky as a souvenir.

“See you in a couple weeks?” You laughed softly, kissing Bucky’s chest.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl.”

—

His lips tasted like the cream soda he had been nursing all night, mixed with a soft hint of mint toothpaste. Intoxicating, really. Your hands curled around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer, blurring the lines of your bodies.

“What do you say…” Bucky started.

“Yes.” You spoke up, answering the question that sat unspoken. His fingers found yours in the dark, you trailed behind him, away from the party, from the people, to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was decorated in shades of blue, accented with beach themed decorations. A choice that screamed suburban guest room.

Bucky closed the door with a soft click and turned the lock into place. A shiver crawled up your spine as he wound his arms around your waist from behind, his face descended to your neck. You moaned softly, hands carding through his hair.

“Strip.” The comment was curt. Cutting through your haze of lust. You bit your lip, slowly unbuttoning your jeans. The material slid to the floor with your panties. The cool air stung as it hit your sensitive clit.

Bucky cooed praises in your ear. Your hands curled around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Now the bra.” He instructed calmly. Your fingers unhooked the cotton garment, discarding it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room, a shiver crawled up your spine as Bucky’s fingers traced along your hips.

“Now what?” You whispered huskily.

“Get on the bed and spread those pretty legs for me,” Bucky’s lips ghosted across your neck, pulling soft moans from your chest.

You leaned forward on the bed on all fours, making sure you wiggled your ass as you climbed toward the headboard. Bucky groaned in appreciation and you bit your lip when you heard the familiar sound of his belt loosening and the zipper of his own jeans descending.

“Like this?” You teased turning around, grabbing the backs of your thighs, feet flat on the mattress, your most intimate area exposed to your lover.

“Touch it.” Bucky breathed, his hand wrapped around his erection, slowly stroking. You dipped your fingers in your mouth before skating them down your body, the tips brushed against your sensitive clit.

Your fingers circled your clit, slowly, soft whimpers echoing off the walls. Your middle finger dipped inside your soaked folds. Using your slick as lube, your fingers began to circle your clit faster, harder. Your back arched off the bed as you plummeted towards your own end. Bucky’s breathing was labored, grunts and moans ripped from his chest.

“You close?” Bucky was at the end of the bed now, one knee on the bed, cock still firmly in hand.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!” You cried out, tears had begun to form in your eyes, your fingers swiping over your clit even harder, faster. You could feel the coil within you tightening, you were almost there. Your head was thrown back, eyes slammed shut, right on the cusp.

Smack.

Your eyes shot open, bewildered. You were ready to chastise whoever decided to interrupt your most intimate of moments. Bucky stood over you now. Completely naked, a dark smile crossed his face, your own features softened.

“Why?” Your voice shook.

“Because, the only way you’re going to get to cum tonight is gonna be on this fucking cock, understand?” Bucky’s voice was but a low growl as he caged you in with his arms. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You moaned, pulling him closer.

“Please?” You looked up at him doe-eyed. Your cunt was throbbing, and you were sure he could feel it without even touching you.

“What do you want?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow in your direction. Your hips bucked towards his, but before they could meet, before you could get the friction you desired, his hands shot out, pinning you to the bed.

“Buckyyyyyyy…” You whimpered, your finger traced down his chest, you put up your best demure front.

“Tell me. Use your words, and tell me. Or I’ll get dressed and leave right now.” Bucky dragged the tip of his cock along your folds. You preened into his touch, desperate mewls leaving your lips.

“Come on,” He cooed. “Tell Bucky what you want.”

“Your cock! Just fuck me stupid already!” You huffed. A wicked smile crossed Bucky’s face as he dipped the head of his cock into your waiting heat.

“Oh God,” Your eyes rolled back, hands gripped at his biceps. Nails dug into his flesh.

“That’s just the tip baby girl. You must be really desperate tonight,” He mused. His hips slowly bucked forward, driving his cock into you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally bottomed out, you couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled off your lips. Bucky grunted, almost feral, as he pulled out and pushed his cock back in.

“Every single time baby, so fuckin tight,” His teeth grit in pleasure, his hands white knuckled the sheets.

“I-I won’t last long, Bucky” You whimpered, your hand reaching between your bodies to rub your swollen clit.

“You’re gonna last until I tell you to cum, you hear me?” Bucky’s teeth caught your earlobe, his fingers pushed yours out of the way so his thick digits could circle your little nub.

His thrusts picked up, all sense of romanticism out the window. This was raw, animalistic, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it. His free hand gripped both of your hands and pinned them above your head, the sound of skin slapping against skin barely audible above your shared moans and cries of pleasure.

“You ready? You cum when I tell you or not at all okay? 3...2...1...cum” Bucky growled in your ear. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you off the edge into that ethereal high. Your back arched off the bed, your heels dug into his ass, your clit pressed against his sweat warmed skin.

Bucky managed a few more thrusts before his cock began to swell within you. As you began to descend from your own high, Bucky reached his. Spilling his seed deep inside you, marking you as his. You moaned at the warmth that radiated through your body. His teeth sank into your neck as he rode out his own high. His hips stuttered, he spilled the last of his release into your womb before he pulled out, rolling to the side, chest heaving.

“What the fuck was that?” You smiled, leaning up on your elbow to look down at Bucky. He chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss.

“That was called sex, and that’s what we do everytime there’s a party because we don’t know a damn person out there, and sex is a lot more fun than trying to act like you’re interested in some drunk person’s stories.” Bucky’s hand ran down your sides while he shook with laughter.

You smacked his chest playfully. An ungodly snort escaped your body as you too shook with laughter.

“No! I meant the ‘you cum when I tell you or not at all’. The whole Dom vibe.” You clarified. Bucky looked into your eyes, lust glinted behind his crystal orbs.

“Did you not like it?” He cocked his head to the side. You quickly backpedaled, shaking your head no.

“No! No! I loved it. It’s just so unlike you.”

“Thought I’d try something different and truthfully,” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “I’ve never cum harder. And if I’m not mistaken, I think the feeling is mutual.”

Your face grew warm and you cast your eyes down to the navy blue sheets. You nodded tentatively, chewing on your lower lip.

“C’mere.” Bucky opened his arms, and you gratefully obliged, snuggling your body up to his warm, broad frame. You breathed in the oh so familiar cocktail of his cologne and sweat. The nightcap of your trysts as it were.

You lay in silence for a few more stolen moments before you gently pulled away from Bucky.

“You okay?” He propped himself up on his elbow as you shuffled through the pile of clothes, picking up your own garments.

“Yeah. I should probably go check on my friends. Make sure they aren’t downing questionable shots, or making out with questionable people.” You laughed, tugging your panties and jeans up your legs. “I think Tony is having a party next weekend, you gonna be there?” You already knew his answer, or hoped you did.

Bucky’s face fell to the sheets and so did your stomach.

“I uh. I need to talk to you about that. I know this isn’t the best place, I mean, we just hook up at parties but this has been eating at me since the first time we did this, what was it 9-10 months ago?” Bucky’s hand scrubbed the back of his neck, he sat up straight, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Buck, if I’ve said or done something I’m really sorry. You know I never intended to hurt you,” Your voice cracked a little, you approached the bed and extended a hand to the still very naked man.

“No. No. It’s not that. It’s this. Us. This no strings attached hooking up. I can’t do it anymore. I caught feelings and I should have fucking told you a long time ago but I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna fuck up whatever we have because I really do enjoy you. I enjoy being with you, and I want that to extend outside of partying. I want to take you to dinner, and breakfast, I want to make coffee for you—” You leaned forward, cutting Bucky off with a soft kiss. His hand reached up to cup your face, as his opposite hand wrapped around your waist.

“So…..” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You smiled and bit your lip.

“Wanna go get coffee in the morning?”

“I’d love that,” Bucky whispered capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss.

Tagging: @tellmealovestory @dontshootmespence

#marveldiversitychallenge #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #marvel #Marvel Universe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fic

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cuthian · 4 years ago

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Unfinished Business Chapter Three

PART THREE -- LUKE (DECEMBER 1994 - JULY 1995)

EARLY DECEMBER 1994

“As long as you live under our roof, you’ll obey our rules, Luke!”

Luke shivered.

His mother’s voice still echoed in his mind even hours later. Hours after he had run out of the house with not much more than his guitar and the clothes on his back, hours after he had come to the studio and found it empty and cold—Reggie had probably opted to spend the night in Alex’s cozy, warm guest bedroom instead—hours since he had curled up under the blankets Reggie had piled onto the little bed up on the loft and cried himself hoarse.

He knew that he could very easily have gone to Alex’s house too, and that his friends would be there and that they’d comfort him, but… but Luke didn’t really want to talk about his mom right now.

He didn’t really want to talk at all.

Because… Well… See, the thing was that Luke loved his parents to death.

They were good, kind people and he knew that they had his best interests at heart, really. The only problem was that their idea of his best interests and his own were wildly different.

The things Luke wanted out of life and the things his parents wanted for him were so different that Luke didn’t know how they’d ever be able to find a middle ground. He hadn’t thought they would be able to find a middle ground—the arguments had only gotten more frequent and decidedly worse since he’d graduated high school, since he had made it abundantly clear he was not going to college any time soon—and he certainly didn’t think they could at all anymore.

In the past three weeks, he’d already spent more nights at the studio or with Alex than at home, and it was another thing for his mother to be pissed off about, but he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Spending time with Reggie and Alex—and Bobby, when he was around outside of band practice—was Luke’s favorite thing to do. He was privately a little relieved that they still had Alex’s house to retreat to as well, because while he knew his mom was fine with Alex and Reggie coming over—especially Reggie—it was always just a little tense.

Alex’s parents had been spending a lot of time being away from their home and their son, after having decided, in an unexpectedly merciful mood, to let said son continue living in their house despite his so-called less desirable proclivities. Luke hated how their absence and utter lack of acceptance was hurting Alex, but he had to admit he did like knowing he—and Reggie—had somewhere to go that wasn’t their studio.

The studio, while adequate enough for Reggie—and, on occasion, Alex or Luke—definitely wouldn’t provide comfortable living for all three of them.

Bobby, on occasion, had said that it was cool if they stayed over at his place too, but considering Bobby’s parents were barely cool with Bobby deciding to take a year off before he applied to college, and every single one of them knew that they kind of blamed the other boys for convincing Bobby to join the band, none of them had really taken him up on it.

He did join them for movie nights at Alex’s though, so Luke figured he probably didn’t feel too left out, at least.

Luke vaguely wondered if Bobby was at Alex’s too, if they were all there, if they missed him, if they were wondering why they hadn’t heard from him at all since their gig two days ago. He buried his nose in the pillow and inhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut.

The pillows and blankets smelled a little like Reggie, actually, an intrinsic blend of vanilla and leather and something spicy that Luke couldn’t name, and it was oddly soothing. He wished, suddenly, abruptly, that his friend was here too, that Reggie would hold him again like he had every other time Luke had spent the night with him in the studio.

He wished that he could press into Reggie’s arms and breathe him in; that he could clutch at his best friend until he felt better about—about everything, because nothing did that like Reggie’s dumb jokes and tight hugs, and—

Oh.

Well.

Luke was, historically, not great at recognizing his own emotions.

He hadn’t realized what the warm, tingly feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looked at Alex had meant until, after their very first performance, Alex had taken his hand, dragged him off the stage and kissed him right on the lips.

He hadn’t realized that what he felt for Alex wasn’t actually romantic love until nearly a year later, when he’d looked at Alex and realized that, if he didn’t account for the kissing and the making out, what he felt for Alex was exactly the same as what he felt for Reggie Bobby, and he… well, he knew that that didn’t make sense, because you were supposed to feel more for a boyfriend.

He didn’t realize that the uncomfortable way his stomach tightened when people dismissed Reggie as the dumb one, the way his eyes burned and the way he wanted to scream at whoever did it, meant that he was sad and angry all at once. He didn’t recognize the absolute rage that bubbled up in him, that made him curl his fists and feel the urge to smash something, whenever someone called Alex names.

He could therefore be excused, he thought a little wildly, for not realizing sooner what the fond, warm, mildly tingly feeling he felt whenever he was with Reggie meant. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling blankly as he tried, desperately, to pinpoint when his feelings for his best friend had gone from best friend to… to… well, to whatever they were now.

He and Reggie had always been really close, and he’d always been one of Luke’s favorite people in the whole world, so it was hard to figure out when that had become… more.

The only frame of reference Luke had for any of this was what he’d had with Alex, because while he certainly had dated around, he’d never really been in love with any of them, and this felt so different than what he had felt for Alex that he didn’t know what to call his feelings for Reggie now.

Was this… was this what being in love with someone felt like?

He thought about Reggie and his silly, playful grin and the way his eyes twinkled when he nailed a riff on his bass on the first try, the way he hugged Luke back twice as tight whenever Luke needed him to and his stomach abruptly tightened and his palms felt clammy and he could feel his heart beating high in his throat and he’d never really understood the phrase ‘butterflies in his stomach’ before, but holy hell, he did now.

“Shit,” he whispered, still staring up at the ceiling. “Shit.”

He needed to… he needed to figure out what to do with this. What if he just...what if he just had a crush, something temporary that he’d get over easily enough? It wasn’t worth risking their friendship or the band for if he’d get over it in a few weeks’ time.

He needed… he needed more information.

He’d… he’d talk to Alex.

Alex always knew what to do.

Luke exhaled shakily and shut his eyes. He would find Alex tomorrow and ask him about… about what it felt like to be in love with someone, about how he’d been sure, about… about how he could be sure it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

He’d ask Alex for advice, and Alex would know what to do.

--------------

DECEMBER 1994 (CHRISTMAS EVE)

Okay, so Luke maybe hadn’t talked to Alex about his feelings yet, but that was only because things had been incredibly hectic for the past few weeks. He’d been woken up the morning after he ran away from home by his friends, who had piled rowdily into their studio, armed with donuts and coffee and all the comforting words and warm hugs Luke could ask for, and things had been fine, for a couple of days, before Alex had come into the studio, pale and wide-eyed and had shown them a poster that read “Missing Person: Luke Patterson”.

Luke had wanted to burst into indignant rage at the thought, because he was legally an adult, what the hell were his parents thinking, but Alex had talked him down.

He’d reluctantly consented to let Alex—and later, when Alex returned, unsuccessful, Reggie—talk to his parents, to tell them he was safe and healthy, but that he was not coming back and that he wasn’t willing to talk to them just yet.

Luke wasn’t sure why his parents hadn’t taken Alex’s word for it—generally, Alex did better with adults than Reggie, who was fantastic at blurting out random things and stuffing his own foot in his mouth—but Reggie had, after a very long afternoon, returned to the studio and announced that Luke’s parents weren’t happy, but had at least consented to take down the posters, as long as Reggie or Alex checked in with them regularly to let them know Luke was doing okay.

Luke had taken it as a win.

Right after that, they’d gotten a series of gigs at various nightclubs and bars in addition to their regular gig at Teaszer’s, and they were finally beginning to build a loyal fanbase. It was exhilarating to be on stage and to hear the crowd sing back their songs, to hear them shouting their names, their band’s name, to realize that people knew who they were.

They were going places, and it’d been exciting enough to drive his feelings for Reggie to the back of his mind for a while, where he could comfortably ignore them as they went about their business.

Ignoring it, though, he mused idly, didn’t seem to be on the agenda for much longer.

Today had been Alex’s idea.

Bobby was spending Christmas Eve with his parents, because he was part of a well-adjusted, normal family, which left Alex, Reggie and Luke to their own devices. Reggie had been mopy for days before Alex had figured out that he probably just missed Maggie—they’d always been close and this was the first time Reggie wouldn’t be around for Christmas.

Alex’s solution had been simple: Reggie’s parents were out all the time, even on holidays, and it shouldn’t be very hard to sneak into the house so Reggie could spend some time with Maggie.

In reality, it left Luke and Alex standing at the end of the driveway while Reggie was inside, hands pushed deep into their pockets as they kept an eye out for either of Reggie’s parents coming home. They’d both hugged Maggie briefly when they snuck in, ruffling her hair and promising to see her again soon before they’d given Reggie some privacy to sit and talk with his little sister.

They talked quietly about the band for a while, a few new songs Luke had written and wanted to add to their regular setlist at Teaszer’s, before they fell into a comfortable silence.

Luke chewed on his lower lip nervously as he glanced back at the house a couple of times, trying to figure out how to bring up his feelings to Alex without actually having to reveal who they were about. Alex was stupidly observant though, and Luke was a little afraid that he’d see right through him.

“What’s bothering you?” Alex said then, snapping Luke abruptly from his thoughts.

“Wha—nothing,” he squeaked. “Nothing at all.”

Alex gave him a flat, unimpressed look, and Luke sighed, hanging his head. “Fine,” he groaned. “Fine. I just…” He drew his lip between his teeth and eyed Alex contemplatively from beneath his eyelashes. “How did you know you were in love with me?”

Alex blinked, obviously taken aback by the question, and Luke almost felt bad for asking, but… well, he really was desperate for an answer.

“Uh,” Alex said slowly. “I… I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly, and Luke chewed on his lower lip nervously. “I guess I just wanted to spend time with you all the time. And,” he shook his head, “I had butterflies in my stomach when I looked at you, and when we kissed I—” He broke off and looked away.

“Sorry,” Luke said quietly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s—it’s fine,” Alex cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. “I just haven’t really thought about all of this since we broke up, so…”

Luke scuffed his toe against the pavement awkwardly. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Alex just looked at him for a minute, brow furrowed, before he asked, “Why ask me about any of that now, Luke?” When Luke dared look up at him, Alex had wandered a little closer, hands pushed deep into his pockets, eyes wide and sincere, and Luke felt himself cave before he’d even opened his mouth.

“I guess I was just…” Luke shrugged. “I realized I haven’t been in love before, and I—I don’t know how I’d even know if I was.” He didn’t really realize what he’d said until Alex’s expression contorted into something resembling hurt before he managed to hide it, and Luke felt terrible immediately. “Alex,” he said urgently, grabbing for his best friend’s arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean I didn’t—”

“Relax,” Alex said tightly, offering Luke a semi-sincere smile. “Between you breaking up with me right before I actually vocally said I love you and you sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat three days later, I kind of noticed you didn’t feel the same way I did, Luke.”

Luke kind of felt like he’d been slapped in the face, and he must’ve looked like it too, because Alex heaved another sigh and added, “It’s fine, Luke. It’s been a long time. I’m over it.”

Luke bit his lip. “Still, I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t know if I ever said that, actually. I should’ve. I did love you.” he stepped closer and curled his fingers around Alex’s wrist. “I do love you, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t be who and what you wanted me to be, and I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I—”

Alex cut him off with a hand over his mouth, rolling his eyes a little at Luke. “Look, much as this isn’t the place to have this conversation,” they both glanced down the driveway, towards the house, before Alex continued, “I know you’re sorry. I knew you were sorry three years ago, when you actually dumped me. But I loved you, and I knew you didn’t love me the same way, and I wanted you in my life, so I adjusted. I’m over you, Luke. I really am.”

He dropped his hand and Luke swallowed thickly. “I shouldn’t have asked you though,” he admitted. “I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking, really.” He looked pleadingly at Alex and whispered, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway, and Luke felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I’m not mad,” he shook his head. “Maybe three years ago, but not now. Not anymore.”

Luke exhaled in relief and looped an arm around Alex’s shoulder, tugging him in for a hug.

Alex hugged him back begrudgingly. “Now,” he said when Luke released him, “Who is this person that has you all tied up in knots? Do I know them?”

“Uh,” Luke choked. “No. No, absolutely not. I’m not in love with anyone, it’s just—I didn’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Alex said sceptically. “Okay. Sure.”

Luke opened his mouth to say something—anything—to make Alex stop looking at him like that, but then Reggie came bounding out the front door, his eyes a little reddened and his cheeks slightly shiny with drying tear tracks, but a massive grin on his lips. “Thank you guys so much,” he exclaimed, reeling them in for a messy group hug as soon as they were within reach. “You’re the best.”

Luke’s cheeks heated at the contact almost instantly, and he barely managed to school his expression into something resembling a normal smile before Reggie leaned back.

“No problem, Reg,” Alex said, smiling down at Reggie fondly, and Luke took their moment of distraction to compose himself a little, because holy hell was he a mess. He hadn’t actually expected his conversation with Alex to go in the direction that it did, and it’d rattled him more than he thought it would, and then Reggie had been right there up in his face, his body pressed tight against Luke’s and—

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t hugged at all since Luke had realized how he felt, but it was the first time that Reggie had hugged him while Luke was actively thinking about how he felt.

He needed a second, okay?

“Yeah,” he said just a tad too loudly, patting his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “We’re happy to do this any time. You deserve to see Maggie as often as you’d like.” Reggie’s smile could’ve lit up the entire neighborhood and it momentarily took Luke’s breath away and shit, he was so far gone for Reggie that it wasn’t even funny anymore.

“Thank you,” Reggie exclaimed again, bouncing back over to Luke to sling his arms around him, hugging him close, and the blush that Luke had just about willed away rushed back in full force. He hugged back automatically, but his eyes flashed towards Alex, panicked.

Alex was staring at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and—shit.

Now Alex knew how Luke felt too.

Maybe he really was obvious about it.

He needed to get a handle on himself.

He could.

He was going to.

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FEBRUARY 1995

“So,” Alex said after Bobby dragged Reggie off to get pizza for all of them, leaving Luke in a distressingly empty garage with the one person he was trying to avoid.

Luke set down his guitar, deliberately avoiding looking at Alex, because he knew his own strengths and weaknesses and he knew that he’d probably cave as soon as he met Alex’s eye, and he didn’t think he was ready for everything that would mean.

“So,” Luke said too, because… well, staying quiet would’ve been more awkward.

Alex heaved a sigh, and Luke winced a little. It really was a bit of a miracle that he’d managed to avoid talking to Alex about this for as long as he had, but for a while, Alex had avoided him too, and then Alex had seemingly gotten in an argument with Reggie, and it’d been pretty easy to avoid him then too.

Luke had been terrified for a while that Alex had given him away, that he’d told Reggie about his suspicions, but Reggie hadn’t given any indication of being angry or weirded out with Luke at all. All he’d done was look at Alex with an unbearably sad expression a couple of times and spend more nights in the garage than in Alex’s guest room.

When Luke had asked, Reggie had just said they’d fallen out over something stupid and they’d fix it soon enough, and Luke had to admit that he’d been right. It’d only taken a few days of Reggie looking distinctly like a kicked puppy before Alex caved and Reggie spent the night there—presumably so they could talk privately, which Luke hated because they were his best friends and he hated being excluded, but understood too, because there were some things he’d only ever talked about with Alex, and some he’d only ever talked about with Reggie.

It stood to reason that was true for them too.

“Are you ready to talk to me?” Alex said, and Luke didn’t even need to turn around to know his arms would be crossed over his chest and he’d be frowning at him.

Luke sighed.

“Yeah,” he finally said, taking a second to steel himself before he turned to Alex—his best friend—his first and only boyfriend—his ex-boyfriend. “Yeah, I guess.”

Alex offered him a small, tentative smile and Luke smiled back instinctively. “You don’t have to,” Alex offered, and Luke was so tempted to take the out, but… but this had been eating away at him since he’d realized and he did want to talk to someone—to Alex.

“No, I do,” Luke nodded, wringing his hands together. “I do, I want to.” He looked up at Alex’s concerned, bright blue eyes and repeated, “I want to talk to you.”

Alex moved forward and Luke let him guide them both back until the back of his knees hit the couch and he sank down into the seat. Alex sank down next to him and Luke leaned into him automatically. It was comforting to have Alex right there next to him, to have his familiar warmth and weight pressed against Luke’s side.

“I think I’m in love with Reggie,” he admitted quietly.

Alex exhaled a long, slow breath. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Luke chanced a look at Alex and bit his lip anxiously at the sight of his friend’s unreadable expression. “Is—I know that it’s—I mean, would it—would it be too weird if I—?”

Alex shook his head jerkily, and Luke didn’t know what to make of his expression, didn’t know why Alex was so shocked by Luke’s actual admission. “Nah. Nah, it’s fine. I just want you to be happy, you know? If that’s Reggie, then I’d say go for it.” Alex choked, and Luke wanted to believe him, but—but he’d known Alex long enough to know there was something he wasn’t saying.

“I don’t believe you,” Luke whispered, and Alex looked at him with wide, startled eyes. “You’re not telling me something,” he added, eyeing his friend closely.

Alex looked back at him with big, blue eyes filled with confusion and just the tiniest hint of apprehension, and Luke said, slowly, “Alex, if it’s too weird, if… if you’re not—I’ll get over it.” He meant it too—he had hurt Alex enough when he’d insisted they break up, insisted they were better off as friends, that it wasn’t worth risking the band for…

He didn’t want to do it again.

Luke could get over Reggie—probably. Maybe.

For Alex’s sake though, he would try his hardest to get over it, if he needed to.

“No,” Alex shook his head. “No, it’s—I…” He heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “Look, it took Reggie ages to recover from what happened with Ella, and I… I had to be there every step of the way, and I—I know you were too, but—I guess I just—”

“You’re worried I’m gonna break his heart too,” Luke finished for him.

“No,” Alex denied immediately, and Luke shot him a look. Alex groaned and amended, “Yes. I don’t know. I just worry about him, you know?”

Luke nodded.

That, he understood all too well.

Reggie had, out of all of them, always been the most fragile, emotionally. Luke and Alex had had an unspoken agreement since the day they’d met to protect Reggie as much as they were able—including from themselves, and after the way Luke had handled his breakup with Alex, he couldn’t really blame Alex for being wary either.

“He’s my best friend too, you know,” he pointed out gently. “And—the last thing I ever want to do is hurt him.” Luke groaned and fell back against the couch pillows. “Plus it’s not like I even know if he feels the same way about me. This could be an entirely pointless discussion.”

Alex snorted a laugh. “Fair enough. But. I do think you should talk to him.”

Luke pouted. “What if he breaks my heart?” He wasn’t serious—not really, because he knew that even if Reggie didn’t feel the same way he did, he’d be so incredibly sweet and kind about it that Luke would probably still feel loved—but the thought of Reggie not liking him was still distressing.

“You’ll be fine,” Alex grinned. “Your ego is big enough to survive the blow.”

Luke gasped in mock-offense, and Alex laughed, nudging his shoulder against Luke’s. “Don’t sweat it, man. I’m sure you’re gonna be fine. You know Reggie—he wouldn’t lord it over you or be weird about it.”

“I know,” Luke sighed. “I know. I just—”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “I get it. Shit’s scary, even when you rationally know everything will be fine.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t ever really dated someone since you,” Luke said, the realization having come to him in the middle of their conversation. “I don't even know how to be in love with someone.” He rolled his head to the side and glared at Alex. “Do you think Reggie knows how to be in love with someone? Will he mind that I don’t, if he likes me too?”

“Luke, oh my God,” Alex groaned. “Reggie is literally one of the chillest guys in the world. Nothing bothers him. Even losing his virginity wasn’t that big of a deal to him—you’ll be fine.”

Luke blinked. “He told you about losing his virginity?”

Alex heaved yet another sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “In excruciating detail. And I’m sure he’d have told you if you’d have been around when it happened.”

Luke winced, and Alex shook his head, squeezing Luke’s knee. “It wasn’t a criticism, Luke.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No,” Alex interrupted, pressing both hands to Luke’s face and squishing his cheeks just a little. “Reg has spent a lot of nights at my house in the past few years, okay? His parents were shitty, and you had a lot going on with yours. Of course I know a bunch of things that might not have come up yet between you and him, but—” he shook his head. “You know Reg loves you. You’re his best friend just as much as I am.” He made a funny face, and Luke laughed despite himself.

Alex grinned brightly, looking very pleased with himself, and said, “Come on. Tell me you understand. And that you’ll talk to him.”

Luke glowered at him, but he smiled too.

“I understand,” he parrotted dutifully. “And I’ll talk to him.”

--------------

APRIL 1995

The energy in the room after their gig was electric, and Luke was thriving on it.

He’d bounced from person to person enthusiastically as soon as he’d gotten off the stage, chatting animatedly with everyone who stopped him, engaging with their fans—they had fans!—and spinning people around on the dancefloor. Alex and Reggie and Bobby were there too, and Luke occasionally bumped into them, found Bobby flirting hard with a girl with copper hair and a grin so sharp Luke instinctively flinched away from it, found Alex and Reggie nursing sodas at the bar before he managed to drag them both onto the dancefloor with him.

He lost them almost as soon as they actually got onto the dancefloor.

Alex was swept away by a handsome young guy Luke vaguely remembered seeing at a few of their other gigs—that he had seen Alex make out with before, pressed up against the wall with his hands shoved into the guy’s back pockets, after their last gig—and Reggie dove headfirst into a throng of enthusiastic girls, spinning them around and laughing ecstatically.

Luke watched, a bit of a knot in his stomach, as one of the girls threw her arms around Reggie’s neck and danced pressed up close against him. Reggie laughed again, bright and happy and so goddamn beautiful and Luke loved him, so much that he was breathless with it, that he was sure that Reggie had to know, because there was no way Luke was being subtle about it.

Reggie didn’t know though, because Luke hadn’t said anything, because Luke was scared shitless.

Luke hadn’t paid much attention to who Reggie did or didn’t date in the past, mostly because he’d been very preoccupied trying to find something that felt even remotely like those first few months with Alex, but now that he was, he couldn’t help but notice that Reggie was as much of a flirt as he himself was—if not more of one.

In the two months since Luke had actively started paying attention to it, he’d seen Reggie flirt with literally everyone he talked to, ranging from Alex and Bobby and Luke himself to girls and boys at their gigs to even his guitar once, and make out with a grand total of eleven different people—not that Luke was keeping track or anything.

He jolted forward when Bobby bumped into him, slinging an arm around him and grinning. Luke could smell beer on his breath and winced a little—none of them ever really drank, except Bobby, who was a year older and considered it his right as a prospective rockstar to drink whenever he wanted to.

“You’re staring,” Bobby shouted in his ear, still barely audible above the steady thump of the bass.

“No, I’m not,” Luke denied automatically, but his eyes drifted back towards Reggie before he’d even finished speaking, and he didn’t need to hear Bobby to know he was scoffing at him.

“You really are,” Bobby snorted, tossing an arm around Luke’s shoulder and steering him away from where Reggie was dancing. Luke let himself be led reluctantly, managing a smile when Alex caught his eye, and turned his attention to Bobby.

“When did you figure it out?” he asked as soon as they’d reached the bar and Bobby managed to procure more beer—Luke took his without comment, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt to have one once.

Bobby shook his head and took a long gulp from his beer before he admitted, “You’re not exactly subtle about it, man. All you do during rehearsal is stare at him. And then sharing your mic…” He broke off and shook his head again. “I’m not an idiot, I can add up two and two.”

Luke sighed. “Do you think Reggie knows?”

Bobby snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Nah. Alex does, though.”

“Yeah,” Luke shrugged, “I mean I told him, of course Alex knows.” Luke really couldn’t keep anything from Alex—had never been able to—so it really shouldn’t be such a surprise that Alex knew about this too. Exes or not, he and Alex were best friends and they were close—Bobby knew that.

That was why Luke reeled back in surprise when Bobby sneered, “Oh, of course.”

“Dude,” he frowned, “What the hell?”

Bobby rolled his eyes dismissively, shaking his head. “What? You can’t be surprised that I’m a little pissed I’m the last one to know something again.”

Luke gaped at his friend, unsure about where the hell that came from, when Reggie popped up beside them, leaning heavily against Luke’s back, snatching his beer from his hand without even looking at it and taking a long, deep drink.

“Oh, yuck,” he wrinkled his nose and frowned at Luke, shoving the bottle back in his hand. “Why are you drinking beer? It’s so gross.”

Luke wrinkled his nose right back, momentarily distracted from Bobby’s shitty mood, and pointed out, “No one said you had to try drinking it.” Reggie pouted and slung his arms around Luke’s neck, pressing up fully against his back, and Luke did his best not to choke on his own tongue.

“I’m thirsty,” Reggie whined. “I’ve been dancing for ages and it’s so hot, and I tried to find Alex because I know he always has water, but I can’t find him, and then I found you!”

He sounded so damn delighted about it, and Luke’s treacherous heart did a tiny flip in his chest, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from leaning back into Reggie. Bobby rolled his eyes at him, but stayed quiet, and Luke was grateful that whatever had caused Bobby’s shitty mood, it wasn’t so shitty he’d out Luke’s feelings to Reggie.

“Have either of you seen Alex?” Reggie asked, his breath warm and moist against Luke’s cheek.

“Last I saw he was dancing,” Luke shrugged, and Bobby turned to survey the dance floor. Luke ordered a soda for Reggie, who cheered quietly when the bartender pressed the bottle into his hand and smacked a wet, impulsive kiss to Luke’s cheek before he pulled away to drink.

Luke tried very hard to remember how to breathe.

“Oh,” Bobby exclaimed, pointing towards the other end of the club, “there he is!” He turned back to Luke and Reggie and waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like someone’s getting lucky tonight.”

Luke raised an eyebrow and turned to look at where Bobby was pointing, Reggie moving with him.

Alex was leaning against the wall next to the stage, the guy Luke had seen him dancing with earlier—and making out with a week or so ago—standing pressed up against him, one hand tangled in Alex’s hair while they kissed, the other clutching at the back of his shirt so tightly it looked like it was the only thing holding him upright.

It’d been a while, but Luke had kissed Alex before.

He remembered feeling a little like his legs were going to give out from under him too.

“Good for him,” Luke chuckled, turning back to the bar to retrieve his drink. He didn’t think Alex had dated anyone, really, since they’d broken up—Luke couldn’t recall ever seeing him with anyone at parties either—and now Luke had seen him with this guy twice already?

He was happy to see Alex letting himself be happy.

“Yeah,” Reggie squeaked, spinning around on his heel, to face Luke again, eyes wide and a little frantic. “So good for him. Totally.” He eyed Luke with an expression that bordered on desperate and said, “I guess we’re both crashing at the studio tonight.”

Luke frowned a little, because he could tell Reggie was rattled, and he wasn’t sure why Alex making out with someone would inspire that reaction in his other friend. “Hey man, you okay?” he asked Reggie as quietly as he could while still making himself heard over the thump of the music, catching one of Reggie’s flailing hands in his.

“Of course I am,” Reggie squawked, turning his wide green eyes on Luke. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He glanced over his shoulder again and then abruptly said, “I’m gonna—I wanna go home, so I’ll just go pack up my stuff and start walking, yeah? I mean, Bobby’s obviously not ready to go—” he gestured wildly at their other best friend, who had turned to talk to an attractive girl sitting on his other side, and then to Alex, “and who knows when Alex is gonna be ready, so I’ll just put my stuff in his car and then walk back to the studio, it’s not that far, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll go with you,” Luke blurted before he could think about it, before he could bring up any of the hundred arguments for them to stay here. “I’ll walk back with you. I’m more than ready to go too.”

Reggie blinked.

“I’m serious,” he said before Reggie could protest, because going back to the empty studio with Reggie did somehow sound better than staying here. He tapped Bobby on the shoulder and told him they were leaving, ignoring the significant look the other boy gave him before he turned back to Reggie. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go.”

Reggie was still looking at him, wide-eyed and bemused, but let Luke guide him back to the stage to collect their guitars and amps, making two trips to bring everything out to Alex’s car—Luke had the spare key, so they thankfully didn’t need to interrupt Alex. Reggie looked back at Luke when they’d locked the car doors again and said, smiling a wobbly smile, “Last chance to go back to dancing with those girls.”

Luke snorted, slinging an arm around Reggie’s shoulder and tugging him close. “You were the one dancing with a dozen girls at once, pal.”

Reggie’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, but Luke could tell he was smiling.

And maybe… maybe he wasn’t ready for this to change just yet.

The intensity of what he felt for Reggie still caught him off guard sometimes, and he wasn’t always sure what to do with it. He didn’t know if he could deal if Reggie didn’t feel the same way, or even if he did—whatever the outcome of Luke telling Reggie how he felt, their friendship and relationship was going to change, and…

And he didn’t think he was ready for that.

He glanced towards Reggie, who was still blushing and smiling bashfully, and smiled too.

He wasn’t ready yet.

But he would be.

Soon.

--------------

11 JULY 1995

Luke settled back into the comfortable couch cushions, feeling more relaxed than he had in a while.

He still hadn’t spoken directly to his parents, hadn’t been able to set aside his pride, and he hadn’t told Reggie how he felt about him yet, but things were going great for the band and all of them personally—Luke’s own less than stellar love life notwithstanding—and that was enough, for now.

Bobby had been talking about moving out of his parents’ house, about finding an apartment nearby, and since he’d been saving up as much money as he could for literally the entire time Luke had known him, he didn’t doubt that the other boy could and would probably do it soon. Bobby’s parents had never been shitty or unsupportive towards him, but Luke knew that Bobby’s dad was losing patience with his adult son living in his house for free while trying to make it as a rockstar.

Still, Bobby managed to secure a job in a local coffee shop, working early morning and a couple of afternoon shifts so his schedule wouldn’t clash with their rehearsals, and Luke was glad to see Bobby excited about something other than girls and music.

The idea of a place of their own—that wasn’t a garage that had been converted into a music studio—was catching though, and Reggie had floated the idea of maybe saving up a little and then getting a place with the three of them. Luke certainly wasn’t opposed to living with Reggie and Alex—he lived with them now too, for all intents and purposes, in closer quarters than an apartment would put them—but he did wonder how they’d manage it.

It wasn’t like any of them were entirely broke—not even Luke, who didn’t actually have a job.

To be fair, his parents were probably funneling some money his way too, because his card hadn’t been declined yet, not even the time that Reggie had tripped over loose wires during rehearsal and had fallen right into Alex, sending them both crashing into the drumset, putting someone’s knee straight through one of the skins. The cost to replace it had been staggeringly high and Luke had covered it because he was the only one who’d had enough money.

Their gigs were bringing in some money too, and Reggie had managed to collect a relatively steady income by teaching a gaggle of excitable kids even more chaotic than he was to play guitar and piano, and Alex still had access to his allowance and was slowly moving it into his own savings account—one that his parents didn’t have access to—but apartments were expensive and even with the rent split three ways…

Luke didn’t know how they’d manage until they managed to get a massive gig.

They were trying.

People knew who they were, they had actual fans and Luke had dropped off more than two dozen demos at various record labels, talent scouts and agents’ offices, and they were getting somewhere.

That blossoming success was what brought them all here to begin with. Bobby had demanded they all meet him at the studio a few hours ago, and while they’d all shown up—which was maybe not that impressive, considering two of them lived there—Bobby was still nowhere to be found.

Reggie was sprawled on his back on the couch, his head resting on Alex’s lap while he talked animatedly about spending the day with Maggie, waving his hands excitedly—narrowly avoiding smacking Alex in the face several times—while their best friend looked down at him with a fond, mildly exasperated expression. Alex had made a face when Reggie had gracelessly sprawled across the couch and his lap, but Luke had caught the indulgent grin the blond had shot their friend too.

Reggie had been a little more clingy in the past few weeks, and when Luke had commented on it, Bobby had sighed and said softly, kindly, “He’s had Alex—and you, but especially Alex—all to himself for years, and now Alex is seeing this new guy, and we all know Reggie’s got abandonment issues, man. He’s probably just worried about losing you both when you fall in love with someone else.”

Of course, then he’d ruined the moment by elbowing Luke in the side and smirking, “Not that that’s going to happen anytime soon, is it?”

His words had made a lot of sense though, and so Luke had tried to make sure that Reggie knew that whatever happened, they’d always be there—he thought Alex must’ve picked up on Reggie’s anxiety too, because he let Reggie drape himself all over him before and after rehearsals and stayed with him and Luke at the studio more nights than he usually did.

“And then she told me to tell you that she’s gonna come over after dance class because she still has so much to teach you because it’s been so long,” Reggie’s voice broke Luke from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Alex grinning down at Reggie.

“It has been a while,” he agreed. “She’ll probably have to teach me everything all over again.”

“Ah well,” Reggie shrugged, reaching up to pat Alex’s cheek. “At least you’re pretty.”

Luke snorted a laugh and Alex lobbed the nearest object—a pillow from the couch—in Luke’s direction before poking Reggie in the side in retaliation. Luke caught the pillow just as Reggie squeaked and rolled off the couch to escape Alex’s poking fingers, grinning unrepentantly at his friend, and tucked it between his back and the back of his chair.

Reggie pouted at Luke from where he now lay, sprawled on the floor. “See how mean he is to me?”

Alex rolled his eyes and Luke laughed as Reggie heaved himself back up the couch, eyeing Alex suspiciously before he tipped sideways again, swinging his legs up over Alex’s lap this time. “Maggie gave me her bracelet too,” Reggie told them, holding up his arm so they could both see the string of brightly colored beads and charms that they’d made for Maggie on her last birthday wrapped around his wrist.

Reggie grinned and said, “She said it’d bring us luck. I figured we could use all the luck we could get.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, patting Reggie’s ankle. “Hey, speaking of which, do either of you know why Bobby had me call in my favor with Micheal Levin?”

Luke sat up abruptly. “You called in your favor with Levin?” he demanded, staring at Alex. “He had me call Dave Harris for him.”

Reggie frowned and looked between him and Alex in confusion before admitting, “He had me make three more copies of the demo and order a bunch more t-shirts.” He glanced between Luke and Alex and asked, “What the hell is he up to?”

“I guess we’ll hear soon enough,” Alex said, ever the peacemaker.

Luke huffed in annoyance, but conceded the point and leaned back as Alex and Reggie fell silent too.

Luke stared up at the ceiling quietly and mused on whether it was time to order pizza yet. It had to be nearly six, and he was hungry, and waiting for Bobby to show up and explain himself was slowly driving him insane.

He was supposed to be here two hours ago.

“We’re doing the right thing,” he asked quietly, giving voice to the fear that had been plaguing him ever since he had run out of his parents’ house. “Right? We’re going to make it.”

“Of course we are,” Reggie told him, equally quietly, rolling his head to the side to smile softly when Luke turned his head to look back at him. “We’re gonna be so good, and everyone will see that we were always right, that we were always gonna be great.”

“I’ve never wanted anything else this much in my life,” Luke admitted. “What if we don’t—”

“We will.” Alex was quiet for a beat. “And if not, we’ll figure something out.”

The garage door swung open, shattering the quiet, intimate moment, and Bobby came running in, skidding to a halt right in front of the couch, panting slightly. “Guys,” he wheezed, waving a crumpled paper he had clutched in his fist. “Guys—it worked. We did it—we’re in.”

Luke sat up slowly, staring at Bobby in confusion.

“Bobby,” Reggie said slowly as he sat up too. “What are you—”

“The Orpheum,” Bobby huffed, waving the papers again. “Guys. I got us a showcase at The Orpheum. We’re playing the motherfucking Orpheum!”

------

22 JULY 1995

Well.

Dying really fucking sucked.

The End.

Continued In ‘Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure’.

READ IT HERE:

Start from the beginning:

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Unfinished Business:

(1) (2) (3)

Or read it HERE (BaMBaT) or HERE (UB) on AO3 :D

#Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the himbos #Alex/reggie #Luke/reggie #Luke patterson #reggie peters #Alex mercer #bambat #ub #unfinished business #Jatp fanfic #Lisa writes #my writing

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ask-dark-monita · 3 months ago

Text

"Blame Phoenix Wright for this. Remember what they took from us! We were gonna get U.N. Owen & Maroon thanks to Disney! But he butted in and put a stop to that! He ruins EVERYTHING!"

"So, corpo scum tryin' to wipe us all out again, huh?"

Becca suddenly whips out a big-ass shotgun with a bloodthirsty smirk on her face.

"Just try it, motherfuckers! They'll be scraping your brains off the walls for months!"

#Guest Muse; Bubble Bass #Nxthingtxwn

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sargenthouse · 6 years ago

Text

Interview with Dylan Carlson of Earth

Interview via Echoes & Dust From soundwaves to landscapes, the sonic experience conjured up by Earth is both a meditative and an immersive one. From having laid the root foundations of rock’s infamous exercise in extreme minimalism with the classic Earth 2: Special Low-Frequency Version, the Seattle-born earth-shakers have braced through the decades carrying a legacy of slow, heavy riffs and long, introspective song-structures with a strong emphasis on repetition. The band has kept their pace slow and steady whilst branching out into a multitude of directions, ranging from stoner rock on Pentastar: In the Style of Demons to the esoteric desert-rock musings on Primitive and Deadly. For the band’s first record in over five years, leading member Dylan Carlson has decided to strip things down for a back-to-basics, raw approach, working as a duo alongside drummer Adrienne Davies to harken back to Earth’s core sound. We caught up with Dylan ahead of his solo performance at Paris’ Sonic Protest Festival to ask about his upcoming record, as well as learn more about his approach to sound and music playing.

E&D: Last time you were scheduled to perform in Paris, you unfortunately had to cancel due to some serious medical emergency. How have you been, how is your health?

DC: I’m much better. It was a gallbladder infection, so I was put on a bunch of antibiotics and I did a bunch of tests to clear it up. I’m fine now.

E&D: Welcome back to France. I understand your mother speaks French, by the way. Is that right?

DC: Yeah, that’s true.

E&D: You grew up moving around many different places, including in Europe. Have you ever lived in France?

DC: No, we lived in Germany, but we visited a lot because my mum liked Paris. The first year, we lived in Ramstein, which is basically just an airbase. Then we lived in Augsburg, Bavaria for three years. It’s an hour away from Munich. I also lived another year in Wiesbaden, which is by Frankfurt. We used to travel a lot. We went to the United Kingdom a lot, too, because we had relatives in Scotland. This was in the Seventies. We came back to the States in 1980. I was in first grade, so this was between the age of six to eleven. We were in American schools though.

E&D: May 24 will mark the release date of the first Earth record in five years, Full Upon Her Burning Lips. Back in 2014, you stated that you had already had started sketching out three songs for the follow-up toPrimitive and Deadly. Have you kept these ideas for this new album or have they been used for your solo and side projects?

DC: They were kept. Generally, when I come up with stuff, it will be earmarked for whatever project it was originally meant for. We played a couple of the ones that ended up on the album a few times live. We played one of the two songs at Hellfest in 2014. Two other songs were developed from playing live and held over. We also did a live soundtrack in Gent for Belladonna of Sadness and we tweaked and kept one of the tracks we performed. The rest of the material was pretty much done a month before we went into the studio. So basically there had been three tracks that had been bouncing around for a while and the bulk of it was done really quickly right before the studio sessions. I came up with a lot of the arrangements in the studio, too.

youtube

E&D: Since Primitive and Deadly, you’ve released three solo albums and a collaborative album with The Bug. Did you originally plan on taking this ‘hiatus’ in between Earth albums?

DC: When we did Primitive and Deadly, it was the end of our relationship with Southern Lord. We had just gotten new management with Cathy from Sargent House. I knew it would be a bit of a while before the next Earth album came about. Things had to settle down and we had to test the waters, see who was interested in us. I had this other material that I thought would be a good solo record. It also gave me a chance to work with Sargent House as a label. Cathy was our manager but we weren’t with the label up until that point. It gave us a chance to do a solo project and a chance to work with Emma Ruth Rundle. It just kind of happened, I guess. It seemed like a good time to do it.

E&D: Coming into writing and recording this record, did you have any initial ideas or a particular head-space that guided you?

DC: This album was actually a bit different, in that I’d usually have a super strong conceptual idea that precedes the record. The records started out concept-heavy, but now it seems like I write music faster than I come up with concepts! [laughs] The concepts reveal themselves in the music more than the concept guides the writing of the music. This record came really fast because we decided we were going to do it with the core of the band, which is me and Adrienne. I ended up playing bass on the record. It was time to show what Earth can do with its core elements, as we’ve had so many members and guests join us over the year. We had been doing a lot of playing and writing in our practise space, just the two of us, and when it came time to do the album I figured “Let’s just do that!”. I also felt like it was a chance for the drums to really shine on record. I think the drums have been a big part of the band live, but with all of the instrumentation and overdubs, the drums aren’t left with much space on record. The drums were typically the last in line on record. For this record, I wanted everything really upfront and present. We’ve also had records that were quite lush-sounding, but I wanted this one to be really dry and stripped.

E&D: Did going back to a two-piece formation require some time to get re-accustomed to?

DC: No, not really. We’ve been working together for so long now that we don’t really think about it. When we add people, I generally know right away whether someone is going to work or not. For the tour that we’re getting ready to do, I’ll be adding another guitarist called Tristan. We did an improv show right before I left Seattle. We interpreted some Miles Davis stuff and we just clicked right away. We met because he was my driver on my solo US tour, before I found out that he was in a band. I invited him to jam and do this join, and now he’s joined the band for the tour.

E&D: Do you approach working as a duo or trio differently from a strictly solo performance?

DC: I find playing with people more enjoyable, certainly, it’s more fun to explore with other people and see what happens. Playing solo is different in that it’s just you, there’s no real buffer. When you’re in a band it’s much easier to cover up mistakes and wing it I guess [laughs]. At the same time, it’s still enjoyable to just playing.

E&D: Part of what makes your shows with Earth so impressive is how “locked-in” you all are at these slow tempos. It’s as though the band followed its own organic pace, like synchronised “breathing”.

DC: Yeah, it’s not “tight” but it’s that weird kind of “loose but on’” thing. It’s not like a regimented prog thing [laughs]. I guess the best description for it, to me, is that it “flows”. You play and things just go right, everything just flows, you’re not getting in your way.

E&D: Is this something you work on with the musicians you add to your line-up or is it something that needs to naturally lock into place from the get-go?

DC: I pretty much know once we play together whether it’s going to work. They either “flow” or they don’t [laughs]. It either just works or it’s not happening. It’s not something you can force.

E&D: You mentioned that this record was written with a more open approach, without a conceptual backbone to guide the sound. Looking back on the end result, what do you “see” when listening to the record?

DC: I think the album titles that came out of it give a general idea. I wanted this album to be more “witchy”, so to speak, with magical plants and animals. I think that it has a very strong feminine energy involved with it. I feel like the music industry in general, and rock in particular, can be very unbalanced and hyper-masculine, and I think it’s reflected in society now, too. We’ve had this hyper-masculine society for so long now. If you hear a band like Metallica, there’s no hint of the feminine anywhere in their music, lyrically or conceptually. It’s this super-weird, “hyper-male bubble”. To me, music, in addition to being intellectual and emotional, is also sensual – especially rock and blues music. It’s from the hips as well! [laughs] I was trying to tap into that side of existence more on this record than on previous ones.

E&D: I was going to say that I did feel some hints of what you mentioned when I first heard Primitive and Deadly.

DC: Yeah, it definitely started with that record, and I feel like it’s reached fuller expression with this one.

E&D: When it came to prepping the recording sessions, what guided your decisions regarding the gear and sound you wanted for the album?

DC: I basically used what I use live. Sometimes it’s nice to have a million choices for overdubs and whatnot, but for this one I just stripped it down. It forces you to be more creative with the materials that you do choose. I just used the same gear as my live setup, which is pretty minimal. It was really exciting to get all of the variety of sounds from those, rather than looking to do overdubs with a collection of gear like on previous albums. This was how me and Randall Dunn would work. We’d have a plethora of things to choose from, whereas I wanted things to be stripped back this time. There were four or five pedals at the most, but I used them in different ways than I had previously done.

E&D: For many, myself included, your music has marked a turning point, a discovery of a new way of listening to music. Can you remember what first raised your awareness of this way of ‘processing’ music? What made you want to go down that path?

DC: I guess, musically, I would hear riffs from bands that I liked, and I’d want them to keep playing that riff. I was always wondering what would happen if you just stuck on that one riff. At the time I was heavily into metal, but I was also into King Crimson. Through the Velvet Underground, I learned about La Monte Young. It was just this idea of enjoying the repetition of stuff. I used to listen to my guitar droning and practice singing through it. I would learn how to hold a note. I had done a couple of other bands before that, and I didn’t really like them very much. As I said, it started with a conceptual thing. Drone is a technique that’s in a bunch of different music. Indian music is probably its highest form of development, but Blues has it too with open string root notes. Maybe it’s this atavistic Scottish thing about bagpipes since I have Scotch heritage, I don’t know.

E&D: Was this on your own or in a band?

DC: It was more on my own, I guess. After my second band broke up, I just went into what I call “woodshedding”, for a couple of years. I was practising and listening to a lot of music, and thinking about what I wanted to do next. That’s where the ideas coalesced, I guess.

E&D: Any overview of drone genre inevitably mentions two figurehead acts: Earth and Sunn O))). Having met the band and having worked with them in the past, have you had an opportunity to discuss your respective approaches about the genre, what “drone” means to you?

DC: Yeah, I’ve guested on their records, but other than that they’re doing their thing and I’m doing my thing. We’re both pursuing different aspects to me. From my perspective, I view myself as always serving the music. The riff needs to be worth repeating, it’s not just about repeating it. It needs to be something that grabs people. I’m constantly concerned about increasing the melodic content and the musicality of what I do. I’m also not as concerned with being the loudest or the slowest, which I feel can reduce the music. Back when I started, the bands wanted to be the fastest bands on earth. Whenever you play something ahead of the music, the music suffers. I just always consider myself a servant of the music and a servant of the song, first and foremost.

E&D: The new album features songs that are fairly short by Earth’s standards. Given that repetition plays an important part in your music, how do you determine the length of a particular song?

DC: I guess there’s a couple of things. There’s the feeling that you’ve said what you needed to say in that length of time. A lot of the time, our songs tend to grow in length live. I sometimes view shorter songs as snapshots of longer pieces. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, the physical means of reproduction limits you to a certain amount of time. People aren’t going to buy an eight-album set – you need to get it down to two LPs [laughs]. We need to consider how it’s going to fit on the vinyl.

E&D: Finishing off, can you name one of your favourite albums, movies and books?

DC: There are so many albums, it’s hard to pick just one [laughs]! I guess I’ll say Memphis Underground by Herbie Mann for the LP. Movie-wise, I’ll say Le Samouraï by Jean-Pierre Melville. Book-wise, Blood Moon by John Sedgwick.

Earth’s new album, Full Upon Her Burning Lips, is released on May 24 by Sargent House. Pre-order here…

#Earth #Dylan Carlson #Full Upon Her Burning Lips

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alexandraburton-x · 7 years ago

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@zachwinthrop zach slung yet another glass of champagne to the back of his throat, becoming addled with the frothy ( b u b b l e s ) ascending beyond his logic. low-bass heartbeats thumped throughout the vehicle, causing tremors to rumble right beneath their feet. faith’s laugh chimed in his ears. he turned his chin to her, grinning, a weightlessness floating through his body. he was sure he had gotten everything R I G H T this time. faith wasn’t destined to be in his life forever, they were both more than aware of that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t retain and relish in her for now. his game plan was simple – wait patiently for alexandra to recognise that whatever asher did for her wasn’t half of what he could do for her – and then it would all work out. he was certain. and if it didn’t he would invoice her his car repair bills. the couple pulled up outside the apprised cocktail lounge and emerged to a squall of flashing lights, shielding the mouths curling around their names, shouting to look here, smile this way, and do you have any comment on the photos from the bbmas after party? amanda must have tipped them off – there had been solicitude surrounding his name the past two weeks after his great DISAPPEARING act and accounts sighting him drunk and disorderly, or just plain disorderly, in more than one location. faith had followed suit and hastily gone into hiding until his team had reigned him back under their control – their anxieties simmered, but it was known among them, ( although unspoken ), that zach did what he wanted, and it was their job to cover his tracks. but to amanda’s relief he returned as though nothing had happened at all, and she knew better than to grill him. leaking his whereabouts to the press didn’t bother him – in fact, it lulled him into a faux entrapment that his life had settled into a comfortable M E D I A N. inside, garish lights swathed the surface of his sun-deepened rind until he appeared to be natant in rippling colour. the paparazzi subsided, leaving only the underlying thrum of music and slurs ghosting the rims of cocktail glasses. ❝ i’ll never get tired of having the thing everyone in the room is gawking at on my arm, ❞ faith drawled, redolent syllables pronounced upon the shell of his ear. he tosses an idle smirk over his shoulder. ❝ did you just call me a THING? and also imply that you own me? faith coleman… ❞ he mocked, leaning across the bar to open a tab. ❝ people don’t own me, i own everything. ❞ he murmured, emerging his lips upon hers. she perches upon a barstool looking like some perverted fantasy – with her hips stretched like a wooden Christ, lips painted dark as blood and even hair so golden it could have only been the result of some somber presage. he stood at her back, his hand cradling the exposed base of her embowed spine. zach wilts around her, balancing the unopened phial of moët & chandon dom perignon in a greedy palm. they share the exorbitant elixir between them until the bottle is almost drained and he feels dizzily inebriated – the kind that doesn’t leave his memory with boring holes the next morning – and he had taken a seat at the plush barstool beside her. ❝ i’m drunk, ❞ he garbles merrily, tipping his flute toward her. she raises a sculpted eyebrow. ❝ as am i. are we lowering the cachet of this place? ❞ zach laughs. ❝ obviously not. we’re the coolest people here. ❞ he is jeering, but faith allows her misted gaze to dance over the crowds of people adorning the lounge as if searching for a worthy contender to their ‘coolness’. and then she freezes on the space hanging right above his shoulder. he doesn’t notice. ❝ zach, i think alex is here. ❞ his heart gyres, but he keeps his eyes steady upon faith’s defined features, hand on her knee. ❝ yeah? ❞ he goads. he could have laughed aloud. she disappears, positively UNTRACEABLE for three years, and suddenly, she’s everywhere. she’s all over him like some kind of terminal ( r a s h ). not that he particularly minded. perhaps this would be fun, he mused. ❝ that B I T C H, ❞ she seethes, stunning zach for a moment. but then he remembers the lies he had spun her. whoops. ❝ i should go over there and say something. i want to. i want to say something to her, see how brave she is then. ❞ a clean row of ivory sinks into his plush lower lip, biting back a laugh. he takes her chin in his fingers, re-directing her gaze to him. ❝ i promise you i’m telling you this for your own good, ❞ he cautions. ❝ faith, that girl will eat you A L I V E. ❞ faith physically deflates in her seat, a pout protruding her bee-sting lips. ❝ no sulking, ❞ he instructs, standing and holding her hand to guide her. ❝ we can do this theeasy way… who knows? maybe you’ll even become friends. ❞ zach grins at her reassuringly, turning on his heel. and there she f u c k i n g is. clinquant and glowering at him like some kind of scorned norse goddess. he smiles obliviously, ear to diamond-adorned ear. he almost doesn’t see that pathetic excuse of a clone practically clasped around her like she was his life-source at her side. ❝ alexandra! and C O. ❞ zach doesn’t even offer asher a glance – his eyes entirely transfixed on a woman he would never, E V E R, be able to fucking shake. he takes the liberty of seating himself at the private booth, tugging faith’s arm lightly to join him. he wasn’t sure what he was feeling – hysterical, maybe? he was too giddily drunk to care. he was teetering somewhere between outrageously jealous, realising he had no right to be as the FRIENDSproposal was entirely his idea, and amusement in its purest form. ❝ well isn’t this just a merry fuckin’ coincidence! ❞ he squeezes faith’s thigh encouragingly, then glances to her. she smiles, and then he does too, because she’s fucking gorgeous and all four of them know it. and it was sort of SEXY that she had the confidence to put a brave face on. stupid and asking to be buried six feet beneath alex’s louboutins, but sexy regardless. ❝ hi, ❞ she coos sweetly, curling a possesive claw around zach’s bicep. ❝you must be alex. i’ve heard plenty about you. i’m faith. coleman. and you..? ❞ she turns to asher, raking honeyed hues over him as painfully slowly as she could manage.

alexandra protracted her daedal, manicured fingers out toward the bottle of armand de brignac, whirling them around the neck of the generous glass. ❝ friends? ❞ asher S T I F L E D, his starless tinctures immense with amusement. ❝ i must’ve missed something in between the psychopathic rage & his charming mug shot that would warrant ( f r i e n d s h i p ). ❞ her delicate shoulders wrenched without care, soft laughter fading from between her varnished, plush sepals. hearing someone else drawl what she’dA L W A Y S known was hilarious, substantiating zach’s plaintive position in her otherwise peachy life. she poured the blush tinged bubbly into her crystalline flute, which compulsorily danced toward her mouth – watering pout. ❝ you’re right, babe, ❞ she respired, the delicious scent of candied liquor laced within her warm breath. she placed her palm gently upon his inner thigh, wanton curves twining to lure his pure petals into a kiss. ❝ and that’s why i need you. because you’re N O T H I N G like him. ❞ asher grinned, immaculate ivories melting her into a plash of ( a p h r o d i s i a ). ❝you’re wasted, aren’t you?” she wrinkled her cherub nose, molten chocolate curls spilling over her shoulders as dipped her head to the right. ❝ no? what? ❞ alex began to laugh, her full glass of champagne threatening to spill from its vessel. but her twinkling moment of pretending zachariah winthrop was V A P O R O U S was over before it started. the sound of his fabricated timbre caused her blood to simmer. it wasn’t an amiable act, but rather one to demonstrate his dominion. she wouldn’t allow him that, not now & not ever. restraint laved her ireful silhouette as she turned to attend to him. alexandra smiled, not out of charm or civility, but out of M E R C Y. auric hues relented as he opts to secure a place at their table – a bold choice, but not unexpected. their ( e n t i r e ) relationship had been a game and his moves were as predictable as his envy. ❝ isn’t it though? ❞ she mused, folding her sun – kissed stems one over the other as she swilled from her glass. she admired faith’s affinity, coiling a gentle hand around her fraudulent swain. it made her laugh at how S A D the entire show had become. ❝ have you? mm, to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. ❞ ironically, she had heard very little about faith with the exception of zach divulging she was a mere distraction from real life. asher shifted indignantly beside of her, his thickset fingers smoothing through onyx tresses, ❝ asher, nice meeting you, ❞ he forced in his dulcet tonality, providing scarce eye contact to either of their new guests. she cleared her throat, reclining softly into the crook of asher’s sinewy chassis, ❝ it’s nice seeing you again, zach. dry this time. ❞ she reminded, raking her manicured crescents against the stem of her glass.

#( ! ░ — interaction.

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