#my favorite part of the mating cycle of guitars!!

[folaireamh]

[source]

[petpenname]

Heartache

pairing: Ellie Williams [brother's best friend] x fem reader c.w. : smoking summary: you have had your eyes on your brother's best friend and band member forever, but you'd never think she would actually talk to you? a/n: this was a submission + I'll make more parts if it gets a good response!

The air in your room hangs heavy with humidity. A slight breeze from your open window blows through, fluttering your various posters and decor hanging on your walls. And over you, sprawled across your bed, flipping through social media, you were honestly bored out of your mind. Three weeks into summer and your closest friend was away for vacation, leaving you alone… and bored.

Cycling through your socials again you get fed up with the lack of entertainment and toss your phone on the floor with an exacerbated sigh. You lay on your bed, wondering what you should do to fill the void of dopamine when the sound of music begins to fill the house. A mixture of rock, indie, and midwest emo songs rang out from your garage, conveniently positioned directly under your room. 

Your brother's band got around to practicing, you assumed. You didn’t even realize your brother was home, he had gone out earlier this morning after your parents left for work. The music got louder and you suddenly had an idea of what you wanted to do, and it wasn't staying here and listening to your brother's shitty garage band. You gather your sketchbook, some pens, headphones, and a few other things into a bag, throw on a hoodie and a pair of shoes and head downstairs. You were headed to a river spot in the woods near your house. It was a commonly frequented spot by you, and your friends but not known to many. Perfect for a little seclusion and wading in cool water. 

You walk down stairs and almost instantly are hit with the strong earthy smell of smoke. You linger for a second and decide that your trip would be improved with a joint, hoping your brother would front you something, you enter the loud garage. 

Your brother and his band mates, all two of them, were unaware of your entrance. They were playing as loud as possible (maybe not as well as possible) but they were producing sound! Your brother slamming away on the drums while the guitarist, and bassist/singer were in their own worlds. 

“Hey!” you yell over the trio.

“HEY KAI!” You shout once more at your brother. Who, without skipping a beat or stopping, yells back.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” 

This got the attention of the other two band members who did stop upon seeing you standing there, amps silencing to white noise feedback. 

“Can I get a joint?” you ask.

“You got money for a joint?” Kai laughs.

“Can you just front me one?” you reply back flatly

“Why should I?” 

“If you give me one I wont tell mom you were smoking in the house again.” You counter. 

“It’s the garage so technically not the house and whatever you know they wont do anything”

“She can have one of mine?” a voice sparks up behind Kai, drawing your attention to the guitarist. A girl named Ellie. She and Kai had been longtime friends and bandmates. You barely knew anything about her other than she was in Kai’s grade, one above yours, but you knew her. You knew her eye color, her favorite flannel she wore a little too often. You knew she got a new guitar last year, and a fresh tattoo this year that shined under the garage light as she held up a joint in your direction.  

You also knew that this was one of the only times she had ever spoken to you. Not like you were around each other often but you almost felt like she would try to avoid you when she was over. Shocked, but with adrenaline pumping you took your chance, walking over to Ellie. She still had her guitar hanging around her, flannel sleeves rolled up, her hair was a bit disheveled from playing, strands falling out of her half up hair do.

She hands you the joint with a sideways smile, and her eyes glint a bit.

“Thanks, you’re so much nicer than my brother” you scoff, giving her a smile back. You turn to leave, flipping off Kai as you bound out the door, leaving the band members commotion in the garage. Not seeing Kai chuck a drumstick at Ellie who dodges it with a laugh. 

The success of getting a joint over shined the butterflies fluttering in your stomach from that look she gave you. The sun hit your face as you got outside and you were only looking forward to your solo date in the forest.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting slowly, but from where you were in the woods shade had taken over your spot. You had smoked, worked on your art, and walked along the water looking for rocks. Hanging out in the forest for a few hours always rejuvenated you in a way you couldn’t explain. But you started to get cold and decided now was a good time to head home. While packing up you realized you had pretty bad cotton mouth from the joint, so you planned to stop by the corner store. 

It wasn’t a long walk but by the time you got to the corner store it was dusk. Street lights started sparking up like stars in the night sky. You opened the glass door and walked in, perusing the aisles for any snack or drink that could satiate your munchies. You were contemplating between an iced tea or a soda when the doorbell rang as someone walked in the store. You barely noticed the bell, or the girl walking up behind you until she spoke.

“Did you enjoy your smoke?” 

You jump, previously lost in your thoughts, you turn around to see Ellie standing there. She was wearing a hoodie now, her guitar in its case strapped to her back.

“Oh my god you scared me!” you say, almost dropping the bottles in your hands.

“Sorry! Didn't mean to!” Ellie laughs, moving around you to open the fridge door next to you and grab a coke. “Funny running into you here” she says, a little awkward you note.

“I mean my house is only a few blocks away,” you laugh. 

“Mm ya i guess so, you getting both of those?” Ellie looks down at the bottles in your hand.

“Oh um, I'm getting this one.” you hold up the iced tea & go to put back the soda. Before you could think Ellie takes the iced tea from your hand and starts walking towards the front of the store.

“Hey wait!” you look at her confused.

“Oh do you want something else princess?” Ellie turns back to look at you with a smirk.

Sparks ignite in your stomach, confused but now flustered, your mind swirling. You finally get a word out, “no, just that” and Ellie turns back to walk towards the cash register. 

You follow her, not really knowing what to do or how to act. Ellie and you had barely spoken to each other before this. And now she's acting so casually around you, and what did she call you? Everything happened so fast you barely caught it but reflecting back now, did she call you princess?

Ellie pays for the two drinks and you walk out together, taking your ice tea from her once outside. 

“Thank you, you didn't have to do that” you say, unscrewing the top and taking a refreshing sip.

“Don't mention it” Ellie says, “So are you going back home now?”

“Mhm yeah, what about you?”

“Yeah I was, but it's getting dark now, i’ll walk you back home first” Ellie says with a smile. 

“Who said chivalry was dead” you joke, it was a nice gesture, as much as you were confused by Ellie’s sudden intentions you couldn’t help but feel a type of way when she looked at you. Her green eyes danced over your face like she was memorizing your features. You wondered if she always looked at you this way?

She had. Ellie for the past few years had been keeping such a distance from you because when you were around she felt her whole body tense up. She felt like she was on fire if you looked in her direction. And god help her if she tried to speak around you, she ended up tripping over her words and losing her train of thought. Truthfully, she didn't know what magical queer fairy blessed her with the confidence to talk to you today. But she had taken in a chance earlier in the garage, and when she saw you in the store she knew it wasn't a coincidence. 

The walk back to your house was short, only a few blocks. You and Ellie joke together and talk about summer plans in the meantime. Both of you slightly high still, making your balance shifty, occasionally you would brush shoulders, sending sparks down each other's spines. 

When you get to your house you stop at the walk way, a little awkwardly since you knew Ellie had been in your house before. 

“Thanks for walking me home! And buying me this, um and the joint '' you say, taking in all of Ellie’s courtesy today, a little unsure what to do with yourself.

“Any time!” Ellie says with a smile, she fidgets where she stands for a second before reaching her hand up to your face. She tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear, without breaking eye contact.

“Have a good night y/n” and with that she turns around and walks away, putting up her hood. 

She left you solidified on the sidewalk, body unmoving but nerves on fire with a simple touch. You float for the next hour or so, barely registering going into your house and up to your room. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, and why now? And why so suddenly?

Later that night you receive a notification on Instagram

* @www.ellie followed you *

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes. 

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven. 

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless. 

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating. 

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated. 

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it  makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?” 

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances. 

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals. 

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.” 

He huffs a little. 

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead. 

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge. 

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates. 

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well. 

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human. 

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!" 

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes. 

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head. 

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.” 

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now. 

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open. 

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut. 

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.” 

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

[cucumbers-and-olives]

Unrequited Love: Part 2, Heartbreak Girl

<<<part one

Summary: At a band performance, you see Carrie in the crowd.

Category: Angst, songfic

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Carrie x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/Includes: idiot characters who can't tell that the other is in love with them, spelling errors, weird time skips

A/N: alright, this has taken so long but its finally here! hope you guys like it!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: @wrhen @funsizearsonist , you guys have been so patient as this has sat in my drafts for sooooooo long, so thank you guys for your help/kindness!

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

You looked around the venue, the bright lights glaring you in the eye. The crowd shouted as you spoke, “This song goes out to someone important to me. To my Care-bear. She’s not here tonight, but if she was, this is what I would tell her.”

“One, two, three, four!” Your band's drummer, Kye, counted off.

-

Carrie walked in as the opening notes played from your guitar. In the noisy and busy venue, it was easy for her to blend in with the crowd where you couldn’t see her. Not that she was trying to avoid you, but after the other day… well she didn't know what would happen when the two of you got a chance to talk to each other.

-

As you played, your eyes drifted around the venue, looking for her, skimming past others who looked nothing like her, and ones who did. She said she would be here. She promised a week ago, no matter what. Maybe she’s in an area I can’t see? No, she said she’d be in the front.

“You call me up

It's like a broken record

Saying that your heart hurts

That you'll never get over him getting over you

And you end up crying

And I end up lying

'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do,”

“He broke up with me.” She collapsed on your bed, pulling a tub of ice cream out of her backpack. “And I have to walk around that school with a smile on my face and pretend I’m okay.” She looked over to you, sitting at your desk. You were fiddling with a pencil mindlessly.

“At least you can be honest with me.” You meant what you said, and you didn’t at the same time.

~ “God he's an asshole. I ended it.” It was first period, and you knew it would be a long day when she said that. But, it wasn’t gonna be a day at school.

~

“We’re over, for real this time.” The text came in at 12 pm, waking you up. The streets were dark as you drove to the grocery store (to get ice cream), and then to her house. You wondered how much sleep you were gonna get tonight, and clearly, not a lot.

~

“I can’t believe he ended it. I thought we were good for once.” She came in through the window this time. A tub of strawberry ice cream as always, it was Carrie’s favorite after all. “You know, he’s been staring at that Molina girl all week…”

All the calls and texts, it all became too much for you. Carrie and Nick were on and off like a light switch, and she couldn't even see the girl right in front of her. The girl that would do anything for her. Starting with being there. Always.

“And when then phone call finally ends

You say "Thanks for being a friend"

And I'm going in circles again and again,”

“Thank you.” She said, as your car stopped outside of her house. You nodded. You didn’t need to say anything.

~

“Thanks.” Carrie said, and you heard a beep from your phone as she ended the call.

“Anything for you. Always.” You whisper into the quiet nothingness.

~

“You’re awesome!” She hollered over her shoulder, running to class.

Carrie was honest each time she said that, as you helped her through heartbreak over and over. But now, she realized that it was way too much for you. She could see the pain in your eyes as you sang, still looking around for her, she presumed.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

And then you saw her. She was slowly moving through the crowd and she stopped in the middle subconsciously, as she turned to look to you. She didn’t move, she just froze and you did too. There was an awkward gap in the chorus until one of your band mates took over for you.

You still played your guitar, but your mouth didn’t move. You just watched her, and she watched you. Just staring at each other, her soft brown eyes looking back at you.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

“Hey,” Your band mate, Sam said, briefly stopping playing the guitar to tap on your shoulder. “You good? Ashley took over.”

You pulled out of your comatose-like state for a moment. “She came,” You said, and they had an “ah ha” moment.

You had a second more, before the next verse started, and she whispered something to you. “Plan B? Do you want to do it?”

“I bite my tongue

But I wanna scream out

You could be with me now

But I end up telling you what you wanna hear,”

You nodded as you jumped back in, harmonies forming for the first few words, as Ashley, who had covered for you, stopped singing. You just focused on Carrie, but you could hear Sam moving around the stage to let everyone know the plan.

You had time before everything went into action, so you just soaked in the lights, and the screams, and the adrenaline as you sang.

“But you're not ready

And it's so frustrating

He treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair

And when the phone call finally ends

You say "I'll call you tomorrow at 10"

And I'm stuck in the friend zone again and again,”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, before dance rehearsal,” Carrie said, after dumping all of her relationship problems on you.

You didn’t know what to say. She just called you, vented all of her problems, thanked you, hung up, and promised to call again. It was an endless, vicious cycle. And you didn't know how to break it.

“Yeah. Love you,” You muttered as you hung up the phone, tossing it across your bed. It clattered against a textbook softly, and a second later your phone lit up with a text.

You scrambled across the bed, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was apologizing. But it wasn’t even from her. It was your mom, asking if you could pick up some food from the store. It took a lot of effort to not scream.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

Carrie saw the movement on the stage, and it unfroze her for a moment. Your band mates moving onstage, with a plan.

She could see the happiness in your eyes, and the pain, as you sang. But there was too much movement on the stage, and she knew something was about to happen. You jumped into the second half of the chorus like nothing was happening.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

Someone came up behind you, attaching a hands free mic to your head. There was some more shuffling behind you, and your guitar was now attached to what looked like a second mic pack in the back pocket of your jeans.

You looked over to Ashley, trying to convey the most “which way do I go” look, and she nodded to a set of stairs you hadn't noticed before. You smiled at her, and then you took a deep breath. You’d never done this before, no one ever does this.

“I know someday it's gonna happen

And you'll finally forget the day you met him

Sometimes I'm so close to confession

I gotta get it through your head

That you belong with me instead,”

The crowd parted as you walked through, like a school of fish, as you got closer and closer to Carrie. She started to back up a little bit when she realized what you were doing, but when she saw the look in your eyes, she stopped, and stood still.

Standing in the middle of the arena, all eyes on you as you sang.

It was just you playing. Just you singing. Raw emotion, and it took you back to writing the song.

~

“What are you working on?” Carrie asked, jumping on your bed.

You closed your notebook, “Uh just a song. Why are you here?” You said, changing the conversion to her. As far as you could remember, you didn't plan anything for this week.

“It’s Friday…” She said, and your brain clicked.

“The movies! Oh my god, I am so so sorry, can we go now?” You said, scrambling around your room, grabbing your jacket and your phone. “I’m ready now.” You looked at her, hope in your eyes that you could fix this situation that you messed up.

“Y/N/N, it’s 2 am.”

You were confused. “2? No, the last time I checked it was 10..” You picked up your phone, and Carrie was right. “Shit.” You looked up to her. “Ice cream?”

She grinned. “Ice cream.”

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

They were small, but she could see the tears coming down your face. The pain behind your eyes. She wished she could take it all back. Go back to the beginning and do it right this time.

But she knew she had messed up. That she couldn’t fix it this time. Fix the mess she made.

The salty tears that came down her face matched the ones on yours.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure

Heartbreak girl,”

You looked back to the stage and your band mates nodded to you.

~

“Is this about Carrie?” Kye asked, as you finished playing a bare, acoustic version of Heartbreak Girl.

“No…” But the look in your eyes told the otherwise.

Ashley shouted it victory. “Yes! Pay up Sammy, that’s 20 bucks you owe me.” She danced around a bit, before Sam handed her $20 and she sat down.

“I’m sorry- you all bet on me?”

They looked at each other. “No- definitely not…”

“Why would we ever do that?

~

You slowed the song down on this loop of the chorus. Your band mates slowly faded out, until it was just you.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

You walked back up to the stage, just singing a capella now, the guitar at your side long forgotten.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl.”

~

Hope you liked it! Send me an ask or fill out this google form to be added to my tag list(s)!

JATP: @n0wornever @calamitykaty @screwunsaidemily @crybabyddl @badwolf00593 @dream-a-little-bigger-x

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt. 3

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

AN: Without further ado, here’s part 3! Sorry if there’s any typos that I missed, I kind of speed edited this one. I have one more part planned for this series, so the end is coming up soon. Hope you enjoy!!

From city to city, crowd to crowd, the tour continued on, and you went on with the show, your unwelcome encounter with Alex only making you more tenacious, more determined to outperform every band there.

You put on an unaffected front, making it seem as if you couldn't care less that he was playing Warped tour as well. Gavin was the only band member who knew about your history, and he fluttered about you like a mother hen ready to offer comfort or homicide at the drop of a hat. He would regularly attempt to gauge your feelings, but it only served to make you withdraw deeper into yourself, denying that could ever be shaken by his presence.

But the truth was you were shaken. You were scared.  Scared that you would one day see that face smirking at you from a crowd and freeze, unable to ignore a presence so heavy and halting like a storm cloud threatening a downpour.

And then there was Gerard. You hadn't seen him since your first show, but your thoughts turned toward him again and again. What must he have thought that day, when Alex forced his way between you? When you stormed off alone? If he had tried to come and speak to you since that day, you hadn't heard anything. Did he think that there was still something left between you and Alex?

It was that thought that caused the most pain every time it crossed your mind, and you hated yourself for it. At night when you were alone your thoughts went around and around in the same infuriating cycle, from not caring what anyone had to think about you, to anxiously wondering if Gerard had someone else he was sharing that crooked smile with. You never let the words cross your mind or leave your lips, but your heart beat constantly with the hopeful thought: Please don't think that I could have feelings for anyone else.

Meanwhile, the Parties never ended--in fact they seemed to grow in boisterousness, picking up attendees like a tornado gathering wind. Your band mates went every now and again to socialize, but They held no value for you. Primarily because the chance of running into Alex was far too high-- You knew he would never miss an opportunity to get shit faced, and he would probably be skulking around in hopes of seeing you there, ready to latch on and torment you further. But beyond that, the chance of running into Gerard was likely to be less than zero.

That didn't stop your band mates from encouraging you to loosen up, hoping to pop the contemplative bubble that you'd encased yourself in for weeks.

"I'm gonna head out. What are you up to tonight? You should take a break from everything." Gavin suggested before heading out one night, despite knowing full well you'd die before you'd agree.

"I'll find something to keep me busy."

"I'd tell you to come with, but I know a certain someone you're crushing on won't be there."

"Oh really?" You flipped through a book on the table in front of you, playing dumb and failing miserably at it. "I do not know to whom you are referring."

"Yeah poor guy. Frank told me that there's too much pressure to drink here, so he's always in the bus alone. Bored. Desperate for human contact."

You gave Gavin the side-eye. "Alright alright, we get it."

He laughed. "Their bus is five down on the left. Y'know, if you feel like it. Thank me later." He said, darting out the door before anything could be thrown at him.

You rolled your eyes and flipped through the book, trying to read and forget the information that was just dropped in your lap. You remembered when you and Gerard had last spoke, how shy he looked when he attempted to invite you over before being cut off by Alex's sudden arrival.

Maybe a quick stop wouldn't hurt, you thought to yourself. He was in the middle of asking me to anyway...

Before you knew it you were on your feet, flinging on a jacket and taking a step outside. It would be the nice thing to do after all, since he can't leave the bus...

It took a bit of searching, but you finally found a bus with My Chemical Romance painted on its side in large black letters. Your heart did its familiar flutter as you walked up to the door, raising your hand and giving a rapid succession of knocks.

You heard a slight shuffle from inside, and after a few moments Gerard answered, his face changing from one of confusion to a soft smile as he shook the hair from out of his eyes.

"I hope this isn't a bad time," you said sheepishly, "I was told I could find some good comics here."

He flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. "Is there ever a bad time for comics? Come on in."

You followed him inside, and he stopped suddenly. "Aw shit." he muttered.

"What is it?" you asked, concerned.

"I just realized we're fucking slobs."

He wasn't wrong, you observed with a laugh. The interior of the bus was divided into piles of organized chaos; clothes tossed into piles on the floor and empty chairs, makeup left open and scattered amongst soda cans by every available counter space. A few stray guitars sat soundless, happily resting until their next performance.

Gerard was obviously a bit embarrassed by the state of the place, as evidenced by the faint red blush that clouded over his nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, so its not exactly Buckingham Palace in here..." he joked, one hand anxiously running through his dark hair. His bashfulness only endeared him to you further.

"Well my bus actually IS Buckingham Palace, and it looks just about the same so don't feel too bad."

"Perfect. Anything to make you feel more at home." He mused, relocating some crumpled clothes from a small sofa nearby. "Have a seat, your majesty."

"I haven't seen you around in awhile." You noted as he hastily shoved things into cupboards.

"I've basically turned into a hermit when I'm not performing. Since I can't step outside without seeing a bottle, I don't really have much choice."

So Gavin was telling the truth. Hm.

"Well, the hermit lifestyle is probably underrated anyway."

He laughed softly. "Oh for sure. And I'll show you whats been keeping me busy this whole time."

Gerard shuffled to the back of the bus for a moment before returning with an armload of comic books, laying them proudly on the table in front of you. "These are some of my current favorites," he began after taking a seat beside you, close enough for you to admire the look of sheer happiness in his expression as he spoke. He was clearly in his element. "This one here has some of the best coloring I've ever seen."

You must have stared at him for a bit too long because he caught your affectionate glance and paused.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," you said, immediately breaking eye contact as heat flooded your cheeks. "Its just nice to hear you talk about them. You're so passionate about it."

He laughed. "Well its also nice to talk about them with someone who gets it."

You felt like you could fly right out of your skin. Everything about him made you feel a sense of belonging that you hadn't found with anyone else before.

"Hey when do I get to see that comic you said you were working on? I think you mentioned that the last time I saw you."

"Oh you remembered! Uh, one sec, I'll pull it out."

He wandered back into the unknown void that was his bunk, and came back with a folio filled to the brim with concepts, sample panels and character sketches.

"I'm pretty proud of this. Its a work in progress so uh...be gentle."

You knew Gerard was talented, but you were taken aback at the skill and creativity that had gone into this endeavor. Here he had created a world entirely his own and you were drawn in immediately.

"Gerard this is fucking fantastic! Seriously I need a full length comic right now."

"Right now? I'd rather talk to you."

You and Gerard talked as if you'd known each other forever. You found him to be witty and charming, but most importantly sincere; and the conversation flowed with ease.

"You know I'm a little surprised. I wouldn't have expected a guy like you to be alone in his bus on a big tour like this."

He laughed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there's a lot of bands here that seem like they're only motivated by the attention they can get from girls. You're not like that."

"Its never been about that for me. I find those guys just as annoying as you do." He paused for a moment, hesitating as if he was unsure if he should continue. "Speaking of annoying...That guy, Alex--"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about him. I didn't even know he was gonna be on this tour since I haven't spoken to him in ages. I'm doing my best to avoid him."

"You seemed pretty upset when I saw you last. Just wanted to make sure he wasn't bothering you or anything."

You paused for a moment, replaying his words in your head to process them. Gerard not only noticed your reaction to Alex, he remembered and was concerned?

"So you guys aren't like...a thing anymore?"

"NO," you said a bit too eagerly. "I mean no, definitely not. I'd have to be crazy."

"Good," he replied softly, "I mean, I'm glad as long as you're happy."

You realized you had been making eye contact with his lips, the pair of you inching closer to each other with every syllable.

Your breath slowed, and you tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear. "And...there's no one that you're involved with?"

"No," he confirmed without missing a beat, "but there is someone I have in mind."

If there was a speed limit for heartbeats, you would have been violating the law. Your next words came out almost as a whisper. "And who would that be?"

Hazel eyes flashing, Gerard cupped the side of your face with one hand, and you instinctively moved closer to meet his lips. The kiss felt like it was part dream, too good to be true as endorphins flooded your veins, a heat kindling in your stomach. You couldn't begin to tell if it lasted seconds or minutes, but still when your lips parted, it felt too soon.

"Oh." was all you could say, and the pair of you merely grinned, satisfied to be silent in the aftermath.

You caught a glance at your watch. 1:05 AM.

"I can't believe I have the willpower to do this," you began reluctantly, "but If I don't head back now I'll end up living here."

"I don't see the problem." he remarked, and you punched him in the arm.

"Thanks for a great night." you pecked him on the cheek, and before he had time to react, you jumped up and made your way towards the door.

"Come back anytime for more talk about comics!" he called after you with a laugh.

Your cheeks were buzzing and a warmth spread through your veins, giddy from your night with Gerard. You paused outside of your bus door, taking a deep breath to try and steady your heartbeat. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion from your band mates-not yet anyway. You just wanted to keep this moment to yourself for awhile.

After you cooled down, you quietly opened the door, hoping nobody would notice you sneaking in and that you could hop straight into your bunk. Instead you were met with Gavin and Liz sitting down on the sofa, looking very concerned.

"Hey," you said with hesitation, "Everything alright?"

They shared an uncomfortable look.

"Y/N, I'm not sure how to put this..." Liz began, fumbling with her fingers in an attempt to find the right words.

"What's going on?" you felt the blush from only moments ago drain away into cold dread.

"Its Alex," Gavin explained, "He and his band have been going around with a camera getting girls to flash them in exchange for backstage passes..."

You rolled your eyes. "So he's still trash. What does this have to do with me?"

"Well, the thing is, he's been telling people he has video of you. And him. Together. And that its gonna be included with the rest of the fucked up footage they're recording."

Your pulse started racing, erasing your giddy buzz from only moments before. You slumped into the nearest chair, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I never even knew I was being filmed..." you said softly. Nausea bubbled in your stomach as you were unwillingly dragged back into your intimate memories, a place you had successfully moved on from in recent years but whose impact you could never truly erase.

"Are you ok?" Liz asked, her voice low and gentle as though she was afraid you were about to shatter. Those words were all you needed to be set off.

"No. No I'm not fucking okay." You stood up suddenly from your chair, pacing. "Do you know how hard it was to leave that situation? Do you you know you much I struggled to make a life an a name for myself? How I had to rebuild myself after him? And now this?" You were shaking, your voice trembling with pent up emotion. "This was supposed to be an amazing, once in a lifetime experience. The beginning of everything for us. So why can't I just be left the fuck alone!"  

Your band mates called after you as you stormed to your bunk, pulling the curtains tight behind you and burying your face in your pillow. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself break down, your unhindered sobs turning your pillow into an ocean.

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 296: Warning

The Berlin based Warning functions as a mix series, label, and party crew dedicated to safe and inclusive raving and some of the artists and labels I follow most enthusiastically are associated with the collective, including, but definitely not limited to, Brothers from Different Mothers, Mirror Zone, Doom Chakra and a whole host of Salon des Amateurs related crews such as Themes for Great Cities, Aiwo, and candomblè. The record label aspect of Warning began earlier this year with the release of a white label, hand-stamped 7” containing two must have edits: one where DJ TABLEDANCE transforms Blaze’s classic “Lovelee Dae” into a hypnotic and hazy electro epic, and another from Benedikt Frey that chops and loops Aaliyah’s “Rock the Boat” into a delirium vocal tapestry while stoned out basslines and crushed beats stomp through layers of feedback. And just a few weeks ago, Warning released their second white label 7”, this time featuring Your Planet is Next and one of my current favorites: the mysterious Giraffi Dog. We get original compositions this time around, with Giraffi Dog operating in primetime breakbeat mode and delivering a delirious rave adventure carried by pleading vocoder hooks and moving between cosmic techno mysteries and orchestral LSD euphorias. Then on the B-side, Your Planet is Next presents a stripped down and tripped out slab of sci-fi electro minimalism, with paranoid energies and slap bass weirdness constantly morphing the track while space age string synths generate nightmare visions and gothic choirs sing shadow spells.

DJ TABLEDANCE / Benedikt Frey - WAR1901 (WARNING, 2019) DJ TABLEDANCE’s “S3NS3TIVE EDIT” of Blaze’s timeless house bomb “Lovelee Dae” is particularly special and transforms the track into a cloudform electro zone out. We start with soulful hooks smothered in shadow and looped choirs blowing like a galactic breeze. Hi-hats wash across the mix…though faraway in the distance…and rapid fire cymbal patterns fade-in while snares clack on the beat. The energy is anxious and anticipatory as we build towards a magnificent drop, wherein electro breakbeat sorcery rides through swirling synth and vocal fogs. Blaize’s legendary hook drops and sits alone amidst the rhythmic intensity, with certain parts of the singing caught in delay boxes and smeared into an ethereal haze. At some point the kick drums fall away and “Lovelee Dae” echoes out as an incredible basslines slams into the mix, all pulsing psychedelic militance and liquid acid intensity filtering through the void. As the rhythms return, the vocals continue moaning and crooing over top, with sections pitch-shifted and arranged in round…creating a delirious call and response. Basslines morph and phase as the hypno-breaks cruise through stellar worlds until the beats begin reducing in intensity, with the track eventually taking on a hypnotic swing as tambourines pan back and forth. Later, a splattery snare roll rockets us back into the electro beat science, with acidic bass synths lowly filtering and pulsing eternally as the vocals are reduced to amorphous delay dreamscapes…no hook or distinct melody discernible…just a paradise of looping vocal circulations. There’s another kick drum drop out which sees aqueous vapors moving through the stereo field, and as the bass rhythms return, the synths and voices sit like a mirage over deep space breakdance narcosis.

On the flip, Benedikt Frey presents a feverish rework of Aaliyah’s “Rock the Boat,” wherein kick drums crunch and stomp and the singer’s soft coo flows overhead, with everything surrounded by string synths that hit like waves of starlight. Noisey snares shape the rhythms into a sort of swampy breakbeat as the increasingly layered vocals envelop the spirit with soul whispers and romantic breaths…everything transforming, filtering, and eternally mutating. Finally, a greasy fuzz bassline drops and gives the beat its final shape while Aaliyah’s ethereal hooks are woven into an aquatic tapestry, with lyrical phrases such as “rock the boat” and “stroke it for me” executing spellbinding repetitions while backing vocals swell in strength. The well known verse and chorus are cut-up, manipulated, and repurposed via Frey’s own drug-kissed pop logic, resulting in a world of echoing wave fronts and pitch-shifted romantics that evolves around a low slung lover’s rock chugger. During certain moments, siren waves, wailing synthesizers, and white light feedback work in the background, creating clouds of glacial ambiance, while at other times, the basslines drop away and the vocals flow like gas into the cosmos before fading away completely. Elsewhere, basslines lead us through an instrumental bridge of slow motion cosmic disco and interstellar sludge rock before Aaliyah’s voice resumes its feverish flow...now swirled about by oceanic atmospheres and droning string swells. The entire track is a masterful display of contrast, as big bulbous noise beats, stoner bass riffs, arcing feedback textures, and symphonic vapors are sorcerously married to Aaliyah’s chilling vocal dreamscapes…a seemingly impossible combination that has to be heard to be believed.

Giraffi Dog / Your Planet is Next - WAR1902 (WARNING, 2019) Flutey bubbles flutter at the start of Giraffi Dog’s “The Temple of Magatao” and synthetic fireflies are sequenced into a mating dance while hi-hats tap and disjointed hand drums bounce through the spectrum. A drum fill introduces a cruising breakbeat, one that rides on fat and funky basslines as saxophones bleat like robotic sheep and minimalist melodies flow forth on tapped cymbals. Snare and hats work through narcotizing patterns while claps rocket across the stereo field and at some point, the track morphs into Kraftwerk-ian electro skitter, with sinister bass synthesis pulsing and cyborgs singing songs of melancholy. Elsewhere, we work into all out euphoria, as sci-fi string bursts and cycling pad melodies push the mind towards a trance state while ethnological rhythms accent the breakbeat intensities. Big waves of atmosphere swell in the background, portending some romantic club climax and indeed, after machine toms flash across the spectrum, the beats fade away as the cyborg vocals return, now singing their sad melodies while organs generate heavenly hymns to the gods of dancefloor positivity. As the breaks return, things push further and further towards lands of ecstatic fantasy, with heady rhythmic switch-ups bringing in space age synth textures that hover like an ocean haze above theanthemic rave majesties. The basslines dance up and down through sensual pop motions as cloudscape electronics sparkle in hues of aquamarine and gold, with every single second awash in vibes of youthful naivety. And towards the end, the ethereal layers of synthesis disperse and we cut back into the futuristic breakbeat funk, wherein basslines are reduced to horror movie pulses, electronic skitters mimics cave liquids, and saxophonic bursts skip on starbeams.

On the B-side sits the aptly titled “U.F.O.” by Your Planet is Next, which comes to life as mutant bass pulses and spectral distortion bursts lock into a mechanized dance. Roland cowbells and rolling snare cascades introduce the main beat, all minimal electro magic, with hypnotic pulses ticking away in one ear and disturbing clouds of ambiance hovering in the other…their elemental shimmers like a cloud of crystal reflecting ghostly light. Virtual vacuums suck energy out of existence and the kick drums soon drop away, setting the stage for a funk infused bass guitar to riff through sinister patterns before descending through slap bass chaos and returning us to the electro beat militance. Then, after snares roll across the surface of mind, we rush into an interstellar climax wherein string synths like a sawing symphony from a horror film generate nightmarish textures while acid synths prance and synthetic frogs squelch into empty space. During these passages of electro terror, mysterious choirs emanate from unknown origins and sing druidic rituals while elsewhere in the track, minimal passages of hovering bass ambiance and vibing snare patterns give way to acid trance melodics and droning robot voices. At some point, the gothic choral movements are tracked by those abstracted funk bass guitars, which lead us once more into a haunted electro haze via chaotic slap runs until the mix is stripped of almost every layer, leaving just cowbells and liquid bass squelches. And as the track works towards its conclusion, futuristic textures and magical percussive fx dance across nerve strands, psychotropic vapors hover over electro breakbeat zone outs, and bell bursts fire rapidly amidst virtual snake tail rattles.

(images from my personal copies)

[teeentyonepilots]

my hiatus fics

Hello! 

Are you a fan who’s freshly returned from hiatus? Did you not keep up with the joshler ao3 tag? Or are you a new fan who’s looking to read some fics? Or howdy to my peeps who’ve stuck around through the drought.

I’ve compiled a list of stories that I’ve written in the hiatus time (July 7th, 2017-July 11th, 2018), for you to catch up on! 

1. Straw Stages (Aug 6th. wc: 738): short freeform story about the end of the blurryface era and Josh shaving his head

Out with the old; rebirth.

2.  That's What Best Friends Do (Sep 4th. 3/3 wc: 8,436): Tyler and Josh keep ending up in threesomes but they’re still just. friends..... right? was a ton of fun to write!

They don't plan on going out to a bar, and would never follow someone home. Moral of the story: everything is better when your best friend is involved, and never say never

3.  Spin Cycle (dirty laundry) (Sep 16th. 7/7 wc: 26,584): my tour de force of hiatus. took all summer to write. Josh’s nudes leak and Tyler has a major life crisis. i’m very proud of this.

There were many tweets warning others ‘don't share the pics. You’re an asshole if you do. Be respectful!' but it didn’t take Tyler too long to uncover the first of the photos.

Everything changed after that.

4.  Your Smile Like Home to Me (Oct 12th. wc: 1,019): crying at movies and emotional sex. who doesn’t love a quick little h/c?

Crying at movies is cathartic; that's why people watch Pixar and the Hallmark Channel.

5.  Greasy Taco, I Love (You) (Oct 22nd. wc: 4,313): a hiatus fic with mutual pining and first kiss. Josh and Tyler have late night taco bell and talk about their feelings.

“Put a shirt on, we're going to TB” Rooftop tacos and confessions; Josh and Tyler have been feeling empty ever since going on hiatus. “What about pants?”

6.  Costume Contest (Oct 31st. wc:  5,395) a collaborative fic with one of my favorite writers, TheDyingSun. Josh and Tyler meet at a halloween party and drunken shenanigans ensue.

Josh was extremely pleased with himself, completely certain he’d win the ‘Worst Costume’ award for the fourth year in a row.

His hairy thighs would clinch the deal.

7.  Cages (Nov 7. wc: 2,558) first of a cool series that I occasionally work on with all the AUs you could possibly want: soulmate, dystopian, superpowers,  sentinels & guides. I’m hyped to write more for this if Dema wasn’t consuming my brain. Josh is just trying to find what job he wants, and ends up finding his soulmate instead

Josh's future was uncertain; no mate, the looming threat of hard manual labor for the rest of his life. He was sure nothing special would ever happen to him.

And then he saw him.

8.  Merry and Bright (Dec 25th. wc: 3,407) a return to one of my favorite AUs: the hospital au! Doctors Josh and Tyler are having their first Christmas as a married couple, but tough time at work is making Tyler into a Scrooge.

The first Christmas as a married couple was supposed to be perfect, but life as a doctor is always full of unexpected interruptions.

9.  Erase (Dec 28th.  2,905) another part to the dystopian work from Cages. After their fateful meeting, Josh is dealing with memory loss and fear of what is going to happen to the both of them.

Josh had been waiting his whole life to find his soulmate, but after what happened at their first, chaotic meeting, he was shocked to find that Tyler was a memory he struggled to recall.

Someone had done something to his mind.

10.  In Studio (Jan 3rd. 661) a hiatus fic where Tyler is having a tough time dealing with his own mind and stress writing this new album. Josh helps him relax. again... who doesn’t love some good h/c?

Sometimes, Tyler just needs someone to pull him from the rut in his mind. Thankfully Josh is always there.

11.  If You Stick Around (May 20th. wc: 20,099) I took a few months off because I was consumed with writing this story. I’m quite proud of this as well. It’s an AU where Josh is a famous new singer, and Tyler plays guitar in his touring band. slow burn and I hope you enjoy this

It had always been Tyler's dream to play music on stage in front of thousands and thousands of adoring fans. Granted he wanted to be performing his own music, but at this point he'd take what he could get, and besides, at least he liked Josh Dun's songs. ... In which Tyler is a back-up musician who has a massive crush on the rising star he's on tour with.

12.  Sounding Down the Mountain Range (Jul 5th. 5,642) a return to another much beloved au: stormboyfriends! Josh gets injured on the job and the two have to reassess where their relationship is going.

It was undeniably ironic that Josh falling off a cliff happened while they were filming Tyler’s new television show How To Survive Anything.

Grand total words published in hiatus: 81,757. I hope you find something you enjoy!

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2017, Part 1

Jaimie Branch is this year’s Heron Oblivion

It feels like it’s been 2017 for roughly a decade now, given the constant barrage of news and events, but actually we’re only about halfway though.  So again, for the fourth time in a row, we have created a mid-year feature in which Dusted writers review each other’s favorite records, specialized expertise be damned.  That’s right, veteran free-jazz expert Bill Meyer reviews Actress, outside-punk rock fan Ben Donnelly gets Tift Merritt, trad jazz authority Derek Taylor takes on Julie Byrne, etc.  We are drawing outside the lines.  We are making a mess.  We are discovering things to like about records that would probably never have hit our turntables otherwise.  We hope you will do likewise, reading about albums that you might not ordinarily consider, listening to the audio and maybe finding one or two things that make your own year-end list. We’ll run the first half of our picks today, covering Actress through Sarah Davachi.  The second will be posted tomorrow and a collection of this-year-so-far lists on the final day of our feature.   

Actress — AZD (Ninja Tune) 

Who recommended it? Joseph Burnett

Did we review it? Yes. Joseph said, “(H)is tracks trace the boundaries between the dancefloor and the art gallery in ways that have rarely been achieved so successfully.”  

Bill Meyer’s take:

In the video for “X22RME,” Darren Cunningham (aka Actress) conceals his face behind a welder’s mask and gesticulates in front of a crumbling concrete sound catcher that was built to amplify the sounds of advancing German bombers during WW II. The sight of these shielding devices resonates on the morning after a truck drove down the sidewalk of London Bridge, running over pedestrians, then disgorged its occupants into a restaurant district where they stabbed passersby with long knives. Cultural action vibrates within a milieu, and we live in a time where we are constantly reminded that the old fights come around again, new ones multiply, and our modes of protection will not keep us safe. Actress’s beats won’t solve that, but their adherence to dance floor functionality points to one option for working out the stress. Likewise the women’s voices that rise in multi-lingual layers above the electronic burble at the track’s end articulate connections and possibilities; people construct their lives in whatever circumstances they find themselves..

Blanck Mass — World Eater (Sacred Bones)

Who recommended it? Ian Mathers

Did we review it?  Yes, Ian’s review went up earlier today, saying it’s a record that “somehow [manages] to be both more relentlessly overwhelming and more immediately accessible” than his previous work.

Ben Donnelly’s take:

World Eater seizes the challenge of making everything loud at once, with rhythm sequences that fill up the 16th notes and every frequency. It's the same dare taken by black metal, and I daresay metal has something to do with the aesthetic, though the results of Benjamin John Power's production are brighter. When his synthetic valkyries are charging, it’s epic for sure. It's a victory gallop, not impending doom. And victorious he is. Looped waves of noise have the force of machines, and they all ring with the intent of a human somewhere behind the scenes, giddy with the godlike storm-bringing power he's discovered. So yes, "The Rat" has an industrial meat grinder beat, but it sounds like he's dropping pinball machines into the auger, not enemies. This is a dense record shot through the ribbons of darkness, but those bared fangs on the cover are smiling. 

Bottle Tree — Bottle Tree (International Anthem)

Bottle Tree by Bottle Tree

Who recommended it: Eric McDowell

Did we review it? Yes, Eric covered it in a mid-May Dust, saying, “Over the cassette’s 30 minutes, the trio gets significant mileage out of contrasted layers, deft structural pivots and sudden harmonic cadences.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:

Most records this year won’t pack quite as much into their running lengths as Chicago trio Bottle Tree does in a mere 32 minutes, and with fairly minimal means, too; just A.M. Frison’s smoked honey voice, Tommaso Moretti’s protean, quicksilver drum fills and the sometimes anchoring, sometimes intangible arrangements and guiding hand of Ben Lamar Gay. The trio can and does stop and go on a dime, takes switchbacks without pause, and somehow does all this in a form that’s never anything less than sublimely mellow. Whether it’s the gently clattering percussion and bass burbles behind Frison’s chanted and then crooned lyrics on “Open Secret” or the sunrise synths and steady, subway train drumming leading into the stirring chorus of “Permanent Change” (where, of course, the drumming changes up), Bottle Tree somehow twists classic song craft and the avant garde, pop and jazz, Motown and improv, into an effortless, instantly ingratiating Mobius strip. Whatever else that tree is growing, there’s lightning in some of those bottles.   

Nathaniel Braddock — Quadrille and Collapse (Invertabrata)

Quadrille & Collapse by Nathaniel Braddock

Who recommended it: Eric McDowell

Did we review it: Yes, Bill Meyer covered it in Dust, writing that, “’Doesn’t Remember,’ … interrupts Philip Glass-like repetition with intricate bridging phrases, while ‘Silvering Ghosts’ sounds like Steve Reich adapted to West African and Caribbean picking techniques.”  

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

Braddock is known for interspersing American Primitive-style picking with West African blues, but this pristine and radiant disc seems to lean more heavily on Fahey than Ali Farka Touré. You may intuit the dry heat of African trance blues in “The Desert Within” but elsewhere shimmering flurries of picking evoke the Appalachia-crossed-with-raga musings of Jack Rose. The title track, balancing 18th century square dancing with post-modern notions of entropy, is a glistening intricacy of notes, grounded by low plunks like a kick drum but spinning off from there in dizzying circles. Closer “Tiger Bucket” swaggers. Strong rhythm cuts through the light-and-shadow eddies of rapid notes; it’s a spring-swelled stream that looks placid on top, but spits off bubbles and froth from its tumultuous undercurrents. 

Jaimie Branch — Fly or Die (International Anthem) 

Fly or Die by jaimie branch

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor, but the Dusted hive was in firm agreement

Did we review it? Yes. Eric said, “The Chicagoan-turned-Brooklynite’s overdue debut is bursting with the pent-up energy of years spent cultivating an impishly bold voice and collaborating widely without the deserved reward of a reputation outside the local scene.” 

Patrick Masterson’s take: 

This time last year, I was giving a close listen to Babyfather in the wake of Brexit and wondering what we’d be listening to in the aftermath of a Trump election (not to say I told you so). For me, as it turns out, the answer was: Not much. I never got internet service for my new apartment and I’ve been reading a lot of books lately. I’ve enjoyed Migos, Pile, Colin Stetson, and Big Thief records, sure. I’ve indulged in long moments of peaceful repose to Young Thug’s “Safe.” The latest Overmono EP is solid. But that’s about it for 2017; my listening has been liberated from the ever-peaking insanity of the “news” cycle. It feels good, man.  

And that’s how liberation should feel, shouldn’t it? You should come away empowered, relieved, unburdened. I wonder if that’s how Jaimie Branch was feeling as she wrapped up post-production last July for Fly or Die, her full-length debut. At a lean 35 minutes and two fistfuls of tracks, this record packs it in and lets it out: The swell of white noise before the count-off into “Theme 001,” a power groove of a song, shows right away that this is no free-jazz genre purist’s haven. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the album flows so well between songs like the “Themes” or “Waltzer” and the interstices of the title-track or end note “…Back at the Ranch” given Branch’s familiarity with band mates Jason Ajemian, Tomeka Reid and Chad Taylor. But despite a handle on divergent mile markers that would have lesser composers looking foolish, the deft touch she’s provided frees it only as far her leash will allow; as Eric rightly points out in his review, the glue is her voice, and she’s got a taut one here.  

Nevertheless, calling Jaimie Branch a trumpeter or even bandleader feels preposterously limiting; this woman is living the art we need right now to survive. Does that seem over the top? Well, far be it for me to insist you listen. Or the overwhelming majority of us at Dusted. Or Branch’s bandmates. Or Rob Mazurek. Or Ryley Walker. Or Sarah Neufeld. Everyone hears the liberation at their own pace, after all.

The Bug vs. Earth — Concrete Desert (Ninja Tune) 

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://thebugmusic.bandcamp.com/album/concrete-desert"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Concrete Desert by The Bug vs Earth&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Who recommended it? Mason Jones

Did we review it: Yes, Mason wrote, “As the guitars and piano are successively overwhelmed by sonic waves only to resurface with glints of beauty, it feels like an oddly peaceful, welcome drowning.” 

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

Two artists that seem, on the surface, to be radically different, find austere common ground in this disc. Dylan Carlson of Earth carves out epic meditative spaces with long, widely separated chimes of guitar, while Kevin Martin, The Bug, builds masses of shivering, shimmering hum. “Gasoline” and “Snakes vs. Rats” power forward on machine-drilled, industrial beats, the brooding heaviness set to foreboding motion. The long ones, “American Dream” and “Concrete Desert” wax elegiac, the ebb and tide of static eroding melody, like the crackle of clock radio cutting through the fading images of a dream. 

Julie Byrne — Not Even Happiness (BaDaBing/Grapefruit) 

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://juliembyrne.bandcamp.com/album/not-even-happiness"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Not Even Happiness by Julie Byrne&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Who recommended it: Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Not Even Happiness is a work of intimate loveliness, surely one of the most flat-out beautiful songwriter albums of a year that is just getting going.”  

Derek Taylor’s take:

True to the unspoken, but venerable troubadour credo, particulars of Julie Byrne’s biography bubble up in the mutable, artifice-averse economies of her songs. A life lived with openness to extempore itinerancy and an abiding adoration for the natural world are points on the artistic compass, as are the bonds of family and interpersonal consanguinity even when at odds. Acoustic finger-style guitar lies at the core of Byrne’s performance tool box along with an ethereal voice that glides from a lilting, speakers-sating croon to candid spoken-sung salience. “Morning Dove” and “All the Land Glimmered” contain convincing evocations of the former, her starkly audible fretting on each folded directly into the gentle fractals of the tunes. Electronics and other instruments/effects enhance the equation on songs like “Natural Blue” and the interstitial “Interlude”, but Byrne’s fulcrum is usually the sturdy lattice work spun simply from words and strings. Lyrics and music coexist with equal and reciprocal weight and in their mingling revert to a pleasing and restorative weightlessness. Hers is not my usual wheelhouse, but one I will agreeably spend time in, soothing libation at the ready to augment those Byrne brings forth of an aural sort. 

Evan Caminiti — Toxic City Music (Dust Editions) 

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://dust-editions.bandcamp.com/album/toxic-city-music"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Toxic City Music by Evan Caminiti&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Who recommended it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? Yes, Brett Marion said, “Its slippery patterns [serve] as auditory snapshots of dank irradiated zones and heat realm communities quarantined in an airless isolation.”   

Jennifer Kelly’s take

Guitars have receded under an ominous fug since Caminiti’s days in Barn Owl. Where slow bright arcs of tone soared over cuts from Ancestral Star and melancholic picked figures reverberated through Lost in the Glare, here the six-string sounds — sometimes Caminiti himself, sometimes augmented by Jefre Cantu-Ledesma — are ghostly wrecks, barely glimpsed through the haze. Caminiti incorporated field recordings from New York City into this apocalyptic mix, so some of the roar and hiss and rumble is just the sounds of midtown. Yet in “Joaquin,” the disc’s best, music slips under a pall of poisonous smoke, submerges in waves of material-destroying acid, goes down amid the distant hiss and clangor of machinery. Toxic City Music sets up an uneasy conflict between sound and entropy, and it seems that unmaking, rather than making, is winning. 

Sarah Davachi — All My Circles Run (Students of Decay) 

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://sarahdavachi.bandcamp.com/album/all-my-circles-run"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;All My Circles Run by Sarah Davachi&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

Who recommended it? Tobias Carroll

Did we review it?  Yes, Eric McDowell said: “Davachi remains a composer of gently immersive and just-stable ambient textures — the kind best enjoyed in total darkness, relieved of as much extraneous sensory input as possible.”  

Joseph Burnett’s take:

Even if I hadn't learned it beforehand, I would be certain that the influence of LaMonte Young hung heavy over All My Circles Run from the first note. Sarah Davachi's compositions share Young’s dutiful dedication to patience and stillness more than most, as the extended, shimmering and unwavering tones on "For Strings" make abundantly clear. But dwelling on the core tones of strings, piano, voice and organ so unflinchingly, she allows their strengths to be magnified even as her subtle sonic manipulations upset the listener's expectations. "For Voice" is the clear triumph on All My Circles Run: resisting the temptation to overplay the layers of wordless litanies, she allows each voice to glisten and shine even as it crosses paths with others. Combined, these haunting refrains form a mournful choir that hangs translucently in the air, so fragile one fears it could break apart at any second. So much "drone" music is sterile and intellectual, but Davachi's dedication to focusing solely on the essence of each sound source means All My Circles Run is as affecting an experience as it is interesting.

[sharionpage]

6 Ways to Set the Bar a Little Lower

The Self Improvement Blog | Self Esteem | Self Confidence

Self-help writers are always pushing their brilliant ideas on the insecure public, suggesting endless techniques to help us broken slobs achieve our “ultimate potential.” But none of these gurus ever consider formulating messages tailored to the less ambitious of us wandering around out there — the ones who aren’t interested in 6-pack abs, or the latest superfood that tastes like fresh rat-droppings, despite its wonderful balance of Omega 3’s… That’s where I come in.  Sometimes people need more realistic goals.

Over-the-top enthusiasm gets annoying after a while. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the energy of a Tony Robbins speech and feel pumped to confront your dad for destroying your self-esteem by dressing you as a tampon one Halloween when he was drunk.

But when the $5,000 seminar ends, and Tony gets whisked away in his private ‘copter, reality quickly resurfaces. Before long, the artificial confidence he inspired in you slinks gracelessly back to its familiar position, hiding behind fear and self-loathing.

So let me share with you some realistic heights to set your bar at, and we’ll leave the Dr. Phils, Eckhart Tolles, and Wayne Dyers to float to their own heavens of know-it-all expertise.

Forget Purpose – It’s a Sham

We’re constantly being goaded into finding some overarching reason to declare our worth on this planet. We’re taught to feel guilty unless we develop some unique or meaningful contribution to declare to our fellow humans, “Look at me! I’m making a profound difference, all because of this wonderful calling of mine!”

Blech.

You don’t need a rigid, personal label to be effective in your community. Your purpose is whatever you decide it to be at any given moment of the day, and I say change it as often as you see fit.

If your kids need clean clothes, doing laundry is a noble purpose. If some old guy drops his cane outside the local barber shop, putting a smile on his face while you pick it up brings meaning to the Universe. Whether it’s a small act of kindness, or something as mundane as making sure the tires get rotated, purpose is always buried within our intentions and actions. The meaning only becomes apparent when we stop filtering it through our “gotta-change-the-world” glasses.

Follow Your Heart, and Your Brilliance Will Be in Tow

You only ever really need one thing to be excited about at a time. The more items you have on your plate, the more indecision you’ll face contemplating which one need be munched first before getting cold. And truthfully, a single-minded focus is the fastest way to get anything done.

Forget trying to create a world imagined by other people. If a wife, house, and job don’t float your boat, find a new port — one that gives you reason to open your eyes in the morning to breathe in the sweet air of inspiration.

You don’t need to run yourself ragged to accomplish everything at once. All you need is a single destination point to begin a journey. The details of how to get there will follow when you stay true to what excites you. The more excited you are, the more options you’ll uncover along the path.

Forget Trying to Please Everyone

I guarantee you there are people out there who think Mother Theresa’s a self-serving hack. No matter how philanthropic your ambitions are, it’s impossible to be liked by everyone, so don’t bother.

What matters is learning to be true to yourself. And the best way to do that is by adopting some variation of the Golden Rule. That may seem cliche, but it’s the best guideline you’ll ever have to experiencing a contented life — by developing a genuine respect for yourself and others.

Basic moralities like not killing or stealing are a natural consequence of the “doing unto others…” tenet. Set the example for yourself, and others will follow when ready. If they don’t recognize your contributions to humanity, who cares.

What did the Matrix Lady tell Neo? Temet Nosce. Know Thyself…

Always the best place to start…

Learn to Chill

Let’s set the bar even lower now. What if you have no drive or ambition to do anything productive with your day, or even your life for that matter?

Simple. Do nothing.

Rest and recharge. If you want to suck back a bunch of beers while watching the Habs blow another 3-goal lead, I say go for it.

Rest is part of every natural cycle on this planet — for each day a night, for every spring a winter. You do not need to be in motion 24-7, riddling yourself with guilt for not having accomplished all 39 things on your day’s must-do list.

Burnout ruins far too many lives on this planet. The best strategy to uncovering an inner passion often involves taking a step back from the madness, and telling the world, “Screw off for a bit, I need a nap here.” If it takes 6 months to unwind, so be it.

Exhaustion will never serve you or anyone else.

New perspective is gleaned by a fresh mind. You’ll find the answers you seek once you give yourself full permission to chill the fuck out from time to time, without guilt or worry.

Learn to Enjoy Being Alone

You’d think this would be an easy one, yet so many people live in constant fear of never finding their “soul-mate.”

Heaven forbid anyone spends more than 5 minutes labeled “single.” Luckily we have endless dating services and alcohol-fueled club-scenes to help remedy this “unnatural” state…

So what’s wrong with being alone?

Nothing. In fact it’s much, much easier than any relationship you’ll ever be in. Choices will be simpler, decisions will be more straightforward, and less arguing over toilet seats will occur.

I’m not advocating solitude out of laziness, I’m only mentioning it because you need to get comfortable with yourself before you’ll be in a position to fully share your bubbly wonderfulness with anyone else. Relying on someone to “complete” you, is a sure-fire method of keeping your baggage-carrying demons energized to spill their contents at the worst possible moment.

Get cool with yourself first, and you’ll find a like-minded soul when you least suspect it. Forced effort leads to unwanted compromise. When you’re in your flow, the babes’ll know it, and be far more likely to swim up to you than when you’re struggling sadly against the current.

Fuck Conformity

You don’t need to go out of your way to be different, but you don’t need to mirror every move the herd makes.

If people want to judge you for carrying an extra 20 pounds on your belly, let them. If people want to censor you for the vulgar language on your blog, they can go right ahead.

Drop the weight only if it feels right to you. Ease off on the f-bombs only if you find value in catering to a different audience. Succumbing to pressure from outside sources will always leave you feeling diminished on some level. Make a change in your life when you feel inspired, not a moment sooner, and forget what the “cool” kids are doing.

Final thoughts…

There are goals in this world that will take more time than others to accomplish, like learning to play guitar, or crocheting a butt-flapped onesie for gramma, but the only one dictating a schedule for those things is you.

Cut yourself a little slack, and learn to enjoy hopping over the small rocks and broken branches along the path again. A mountain will always loom in the distance. There’s no need to pack your climbing gear hastily.

Enjoy the view and fresh air at base-camp for as long as you see fit. A good guide with never rush you up a slope through chants and cheers, he’ll encourage a pace you’re safely capable of.

Let’s forget about pole-vaulting today. There’s a cute little creek behind my place we can easily hop over to get to my favorite cafe before lunch.

I’m treating…

6 Ways to Set the Bar a Little Lower published first on https://bitspiritspace.tumblr.com/