#that time I met the summer set and the first thing the guitarist told me to do was get out <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[beware-of-you-98]

give us shay loreeeeeee

Oh boy we’d be here for so long

[mitamicah]

Hi guys, I want to talk a bit about what is going on in my life and my plans for the rest of my year. Feel free to just read the TLDR.

TLDR:

I had a consultation with a private clinic in Malmö about top surgery. Went great and have free reigns to suggest a day for surgery. Want to talk with my social worker and contact person first tho.

Celebrated my one year on hrt anniversary being at a heavy music award show.

The rest of November is busy and then Sunday I will be flying to Zagreb – for this reason maybe I won’t be able to draw a lot (which sucks).

December is building up to be busy too yet I’ll try myself to find time to finished owned artworks (mostly the three secret santas I’m in).  

First up, I want to talk my weekend since it was a very special one for me being that it was my second birthday weekend (Saturday I had been one year on testosterone).

When I realized that my favourite Danish band would guest at a local award show for heavy music in Copenhagen, I immediately bought tickets, which turned out to be the best timing, given that I later booked a consultation at Reformkliniken in Malmö for pre-op consultation about potential top surgery the day before.

I slept by my friends’ house, a lesbian couple where one is a transwoman so they’ve experience with surgery especially gender affirming surgery. They had also offered to be my companions at the consultation which I was very grateful for) so the three of us went over the border the next day and had half a day in Sweden together, visiting Folkets park (to see if my sticker was still up – unfortunately we couldn’t find it) and this cute little café before going to the appointment.

Half an hour late we got inside where the surgeon was surprised to see not one but three people step inside. The consultation went well, and honestly better than I’d expected. He was kind, a good listener, factual and thorough. While I maybe should have expected it for a private clinic the fact that there was no waitlist blew me back a bit, yet I ended up asking if it was alright I went back later with a suggestion to a date for surgery. Then we talked to the secretary who was just as thorough if not more about everything I would need to know leading up to the surgery down to little things I’d never would’ve imagined having to think about like not eating specific medicine, wearing nailpolish, washing myself daily for a month leading up to the surgery and much, much more. All wasn’t fun and games though since while I know it was necessary for the consultation, the 2-5 min. of me being topless in front of the surgeon having to describe what I saw shook me up. This is the first time since my ex I have been topless in front of somebody else and I felt my body betraying me a bit almost making me choke on my words and cheer up having to speak. I guess in the end that only goes to show even more why I want/need this surgery. Now what I need to do is print the part of my journal from the gender clinic in Denmark that’s about me wanting top surgery (to send to the secretary) and see if I can set up a meeting between me and the people around me from the local authorities (contact person and social worker mostly) to hear about how to plan a surgery into my schedule. All this by also knowing I still have a second appointment with the gender clinic on December 12.

The next day I went to see my faves and got a bit of a whiplash meeting up as the sole queue member at 5 pm, one hour before the doors. I have been getting so used to go to shows where you need to queue to secure a spot, so I felt very odd sitting out here alone for an hour even more so when everybody I told was shocked, I’d arrived so “early”. Oh, well the award show was good and I got to cling to my band before it began, steal the set lists of three of four performing bands and talk with new, cool people. I even met somebody from my summer camp that was up getting an award together with a band he’d played with as a substitute guitarist.

Secondly, I feel like I haven’t kept you guys up to date about everything so here’s a bit of a rant about my plans for the rest of the year:

This upcoming week will be wild! Before November is over I have one tattoo appointment (tomorrow), one study to participate in (Tuesday), one craft painting appointment with my sister (Tuesday), one concert with my choir (Wednesday), one trans support group meeting (Thursday) and four more days at the internship to go (Monday, Wednesday-Friday). Then on top of that I have a trip to plan since yes, I got approved to have a break on both December 2-4 and December 16-18 so I can go to Zagreb (and Poland)!!!

December starts off with me literally on day one flying to Croatia to spend the first few days in the Balkans. December 2 I have scheduled a trip to Ljubjana just because. Then there’s the Zagreb concert on Tuesday where I have made a sign to go with my homemade t-shirts for the band members (and another sign saying I travelled to Denmark to see them). I think I’ll bring some of my textile markers if in case the guys want to sign my Bluza shirt. But that will not be my priority – my biggest hope for this concert is still to gift them the shirts and then Bojan to see my tattoo. Everything else after that is bonus upon a bonus!!!

After arriving home from Zagreb I will have a week and a half to work and to find out how to schedule Christmas shopping and art making (also having an appointment with the gender clinic and another choir concert inbetween). Then on December 15 I will be flying to Warszawa (and taking the bus to Kraków thereafter) to participate in two of three of Käärijä’s polish concerts. The closer we get to the trip however the less confident I am about my flight choices (the one home is at 6 almost 7 am in the morning) so I hope to use the option of rescheduling the flight to a later time the same day (I purchased a ticket where you could do that but I have to call booking.com and I am not sure the phone number I’ve found is the right one). Other than that I feel like the planning of the polish trip is coming along nicely as well. Then I will go home, work for two days then travel with my sister and her boyfriend to my dad’s house to celebrate pre-christmas with them and then later Christmas with my mother. I still don’t know what to do after December 24 other than my sister want me (and my mom) out before December 28 so to prepare for her having guests over for the new years.

Honestly, I think this might be the busiest Christmas I will have had for a while, so fingers crossed I haven’t bit over more than I can chew signing up for three secret santa events (one luckily running until January).

[musicarenagh]

Behind the Beats: Unveiling the Stories of Underdog's 'Trans Global Amnesia' Ok, let’s discuss about Underdog's latest album, “Trans Global Amnesia”. These guys from Boston are flying us on a journey through their music. Picture this: So you start with the song ‘You Told Me’ which is full of sheer energy and rocking tunes. It’s got those stabs and the punk vibe – it gets at you right from the start. They fire on you with “Helsinki Airport Blues” – the catchy vocals, sharp guitar solos – it would be impossible not to tap your feet. "Summer Song" mellows things out a little bit with the melodic riffs and jazzy percussion that just sound great. Now, the fun begins – with "New World Raga." The incorporate of Eastern elements and gets good. It is like a rock went around the world. "Rocket Baby" returns that feel-good rock ‘n’ roll and “Louie & Marie” slows down the genre but that funky beat is still there to stay. In a chat with Scott, he spills the beans on why they're called Underdog (hint: Love for the underdogs and a dog named Suzy. They describe what influences their music – everyday things and also random happenings that trigger the imagination. Scott also relates to life outside the studio – art, vintage cars and his love of travel. They do not candycoat the many hurdles that are associated with the music business. Airplay and exposure? Yeah, it’s a really hard one to crack with so much competition and the artists hustling. In the future, Underdog is completely wrapped up in their latest work, "Wonderland," and they can’t wait to take on a live stage show that should be set somewhere around Boston. Collaborations? Perhaps in the future, but at this point that just need to record their backlog of songs. Scott sends a big thank you to all his followers. But without you guys, they are only making the sounds. Listen to Trans Global Amnesia below https://open.spotify.com/album/2bLEnXrbvbHHfKylIOdbsm?si=S64jON6lT-a3MaY5OqJoIA Follow Underdog on Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Instagram What is your stage name Underdog is the band name. We don’t have individual stage names, we use our own names, Scott and Bryn. Like any group of close friends we have nicknames, but those are generally just kicked around between us and other close friends. Mine is “Dog”, Bryn’s is “A Major Rock Dude”, hence the AMRD in the studio name and his music publishing company. These go way back to the early 80s, when we first met. Is there a story behind your stage name? At the time we started getting together, I was sitting in as a rehearsal guitarist for my wife’s band The Underachievers, who were getting ready to do a reunion show after 30 years, and a couple of the members who now live in Vancouver were only coming into town a few days before the show, so I was helping them out with practices. I thought it would be cool to somehow incorporate the “Under”part into our name, and “Dog” being my nickname, Underdog obviously presented itself. I figured it was nice and short, easy to remember, and as they say, everyone loves an underdog. Also, we had just gotten Suzie, a Black Lab mix puppy from a local shelter, and as black dogs are often overlooked or the last to be adopted, I felt like she was also an underdog. Suzie is the band mascot, and our avatar image on social media and other sites. The fact that we are also a bit on the older side, and not the most likely of “pop stars”, having to hold down days jobs, and doing all the recording on our own at home, seemed to echo the idea nicely. It feels like we’ve got a lot going against us, without much going for us. Beyond that, I also remember seeing a German documentary around the same time about dogs that were being raised by prisoners called “Underdogs”, which added another relay ref meaning. Obviously there’s the old Underdog cartoon, which I loved growing up, but really was not on my mind when I came up with the name. Still with names like Sweet Polly Purebred for a heroine, and Simon Bar Sinister as a villain, you can’t go wrong.

[caption id="attachment_53849" align="alignnone" width="1449"] Scott[/caption] Where do you find inspiration? From anywhere really, but usually from either what’s going on in our lives, or things that are happening around us, stuff we see or read can also inspire songs. It’s a pretty wide variety of things, but usually I try to find some way of making it personal, so that I actually have an access point into the song, but at the same time making it accessible to anyone who’s listening to it. What was the role of music in the early years of your life? I started playing piano around the the age of five, and studied with my Aunt Dolly for a number of years. When I was around nine years old I switched over to trumpet, which I continued with into college. I first picked up the guitar in my early teens, and there was a steady migration towards that over the years. I really started more as a bass player in my first couple of bands and moved over to guitar and singing from there. Bryn also started music at a fairly young age, both drums and guitar, and has continued to develop his guitar skills over the time I have known him. When we first met he was playing drums, but was interested is starting a band where he was playing guitar and singing his own songs, which is how the Hackmasters came about in the mid-80s. Are you from a musical or artistic family? Not really, although both my parents played piano, and later on my mom studied flute and and my dad recorder. I have an older brother and sister that don’t play anything, but my younger brother, Stuart, was also a guitar player. He had a folk music career around Boston for a number of years, but sadly he passed away in early 2020 from a long term illness. Although my parents always encouraged art and music, they always said that they were tough fields to make a living in, so of course I went to college first for music and then later on for art. Hahaha! Bryn’s older sister was an accomplished artist, who lived in Venice, Italy. She did a lot of drawing and printmaking, I believe, but sadly she also passed away a number of years ago. I remember Bryn brought her to visit my painting studio in Dorchester in the late 90s or early 00s and we had a nice time talking about our work. I don’t think either of his parents played music or made art, that I know of. Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? I suppose for me the simple answer is the Beatles, I grew up with them in the 60s and it sure looked like a good time. But there are plenty of other artists that have helped to keep the dream alive over the years. I guess music has always been a part of my life, so it seems like a very natural, and comfortable place for me to be. How did you learn to sing/write/to play? Although I took lessons for piano and trumpet, I’m basically a self taught guitarist. I did take some music theory classes in high school and at college, but that was all focused on Classical music and four part hamony, so the songs that I’ve written over the years just pretty much come from within. My singing is not my strength, but I was able to face that shortcoming a bit easier in the 90s when a less polished vocal style became more acceptable in mainstream music. Bryn has studied both drums and guitar, and still is a student of Sam Davis, a very talented musician in the Boston area, that has a career that goes way back. So he is definitely the more accomplished guitarist, and therefore takes most of the leads. He also has a much wider variety of influences, that all blend together to make his own unique style. What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? Wow, not sure I can even remember exactly, but most likely it was a show at the Rat in Boston, so probably some local bands. I do remember getting in there underage to see the Runaways around 1977, but it was not the first show I went to. How could you describe your music? It’s hard for me to have a perspective on it, as it’s our stuff.

But I would say garage, punk, hard rock, without being metal, although there are touches of that occasionally. I would not call it pop, especially by today’s standards, but I think it’s fairly melodic, and hopefully the tunes are catchy to the listener’s ear. It’s definitely guitar driven, with the vocals being just another instrument in the band, rather than the focus. We like using the term Supersonic because it sort of defies any sort of specific categorization. I’m sure a lot of people find it unpleasant and abrasive. Describe your creative process. Sometimes it starts with a single line, or thought that becomes the foundation of the song. I usually come up with the music first and flush out the lyrics afterwards, but occasionally the words spill out first. When that happens it’s usually a very quick thing, and the melody line is right there in my head at the moment. I’ve had ideas come to me in dreams or right on the edge of sleep too, and I try to keep paper and pen nearby to be able to get it down before it’s lost. I keep a pocket recorder handy also, so I can capture words or ideas quickly as they come up, especially if I’m practicing guitar and something magical happens, it’s nice to be able to capture it in its pure essence. What is your main inspiration? My bride, Priscilla and my dog, Suzie for the most part. Songs like “Suzie My Dear” and “Everything I Can” off the our first album, “Ether Dome,” were inspired by both of them, as are many of the songs I’ve written. But sometimes it’s a random thing I’ve come across. Both “Munchausen By Proxy” and “Mallus Maleficarum” are good examples of that sort of thing happening. What musician do you admire most and why? Too many to list here, but one is Louise Post. She has really shown me that an independent artist can have a presence, especially if they are willing to persevere. In the last year or so she has released three vastly different records, that are also a complete departure from her work with Veruca Salt. Paul McCartney is also someone who I think embodies what an artist is. As much as I love the Beatles, and some of his solo work is amazing, the fact that he was into the avant-garde music and art scene ahead of the others, and has a successful painting career, as well, says a lot about him being a well rounded artist. I’ve always felt that if you are involved in the arts in any way you probably do more than one of them well. It’s just the nature of creative beings. Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? Absolutely. I think that’s the case for any creative person. The alternative is just stagnation, which would probably lead to boredom and then finding something else to do. Not to say that there aren’t artists out there who have made a living off of doing the same thing over and over again, but I don’t think I would find that very rewarding. I know that anytime I encounter new music, or a different style that attracts me to it, I can see traces of it in the new songs I write. Sometimes consciously and other times completely unconsciously. [caption id="attachment_53847" align="alignnone" width="1412"] Bryn[/caption] Who do you see as your main competitor? Everyone and no one, hahaha! Seriously though, there are so many artists out there vying for exposure, and your ear, that it can be overwhelming, and hard to feel like you’re making any sort of impression or impact. I remember thinking in the 90s when my band fin-de-siècle was first coming onto the Boston music scene how much different it was from the 80s when I was in World of Distortion. There was more of a sense of comaradrie among the bands rather than a competitive vibe. I think that has carried on till now. There are so many talented bands here in Boston, but I feel like we are off doing our own thing, so there isn’t a Beatles vs. Stones things going on either. What are your interests outside of music? Spending time with my girl and my dog. I also enjoy oil painting, photography and love movies and reading a good book.

I’ve always loved vintage cars from the 50s, 60s and early 70s too. Traveling is another thing I really enjoy, but it’s an expensive hobby for sure. Trying to find some time for meditation in recent years has also been very helpful and relaxing. I know that Bryn shares an interest in cars and travel, and he loves animals too. A lot of what he does revolves around music, including playing drums in a friend’s band that does children’s music. I’ve been to some of their shows, and when a mosh pit of 5-10 year olds gets going it’s not much different from a lot of clubs I’ve been in. The lines between child and adult entertainment really start to blur at moment like that. If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? Hopefully some sort of artistic pursuit. I work as a graphic designer, but would love to be in my painting studio as a full time thing, or finding some way of traveling more, perhaps as a photographer. What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Trying to get airplay and high level exposure. Again, I think this is just a by product of there being so many artists out there now trying to get their voices heard. The fact that anyone can promote themselves has multiplied the amount of people out there doing it. If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? Creating more opportunities for up and coming acts. As someone once said,” The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side." I don’t think much has changed much since then, and probably even gotten worse in some ways. Why did you choose this as the title of this project? A friend of mine had a sister that woke up in a hotel room in Maine on a business trip and had no idea where she was, or why she was there. When she was checked out at a local hospital they told her she had “Transient Global Amnesia”, which like any good game of telephone morphed into Trans Global Amnesia by the time I heard about it. I thought it sounded too cool to pass up, and even told my friend I was going to use it for an album title. https://open.spotify.com/artist/41SglN4t6hoMy0ndyhHmRl?si=8BbVRmXeQ1SP2l0H2y9-sA What are your plans for the coming months? Working on our next album, “Wonderland” is a top priority at the moment. Also looking to get some live shows booked, but the club scene in Boston isn’t thriving the way it used to, so those opportunities are harder to come by these days. Do you have any artistic collaboration plans? Not at the moment, We get a lot of offers from people who want to collaborate, but I feel that usually it’s a singer looking for an established group to work with, or wanting to dose sort of re-mix, which is not our thing really.. We have so many songs backlogged at the moment that we are really trying to focus on getting them all recorded, especially with new ones coming along all the time. What message would you like to give to your fans? A very big thank you for their continued support over the years, and let them know that them being there for us means the world to us. Realistically, without them we are nothing. Thanks for taking the time to talk with us Mister Styx, and we hope to speak with you again in the future Take care Scott

[watchmegetobsessed]

Floating Through Space - Harry Styles

a/n: im literally bursting from excitement over this, i’ve been working on this fic for so long and im pretty satisfied with how it turned out so i hope you’ll like it too! pleas please PLEASE don’t let this flop bc it means a lot to me 🥺 the song featured in the fic is obviously an existing one, i linked it into the right place so you can listen to it and get the vibe of it, that song is what inspired the whole story so i recommend giving it a listen! leave your thoughts and reactions, i can’t wait to read what you thought about the fic!!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

warning: drug use, smut and everything thats wrong with patriarchy lmao

word count: 25.7k

masterlist

This dressing room is no different than the other one thousand you’ve been to. The plaster on the wall is all cracked up, the red bricks peeking from under it in the corner, the dusty couch looks like it’s been through hell and just sitting on it would probably give you STDs. The mirror on the wall is cracked, the few water bottles you’ve gotten are not even cooled, they’re a warm room temperature. The glorious life of a musician, right?

Moments like this you question why you didn’t just choose to be the obedient daughter and became a surgeon like your parents always wanted you to be. You’d have a steady future and a nice income, a decent career instead of having to perform at a different bar every other night for nicks and pennies that barely cover your rent at the end of the month. But that wouldn’t be you. Wearing scrubs, smiling at patients, throwing out your dignity along with your dreams, you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you chose that life. Besides, you’d still be in school, barely nearing the halfpoint of your education if you decided to go along with your parents’ plan and it’s clearer than daylight that the school system is just not for you. It would be pure torture if you had to sit in classes for a decade just to work a job you never even wanted.

Looking around the small dressing room you cast your eyes over your band that consists of three people. It’s a temporary set up from three guys you met along your way, all of the struggling musicians as you and you saw the as opportunities. Places would rather have a band play with several men in it than just put one single woman on stage and pray for the best. It’s the sexist part of the industry not enough people talk about. You can’t even count how many pitying stares you’ve gotten through the years when you stated that you want to make a career as a solo female singer.

“Honey, you ain’t making it without at least one man behind you,” is what they’ve always told you. So you’ve gotten yourself three until you could stand on your own two feet without a male backup. You’re using them just as much as they are using you. They were already a band when you joined them, the lead singer just disappeared to thin air with her boyfriend and left them incomplete, so you joined forces to navigate your way together in the depth of the music industry, looking for that big jump everyone is dreaming about.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror you fix your eyeliner, checking yourself once again. Your thrifted checkered suit looks radiant on you especially with the neon green see-through top underneath, showing off a black bralette. It’s a male suit, hanging a little baggy on you at places, but you still feel like you’re pulling off the look. Your thick eyeliner makes your eyes appear even bigger than they already are and your hair is in an unruly mop of curls, making your appearance complete.

You’ve received tons of critiques over your outfits, but they are the only thing you are not changing on yourself.

“Don’t wear men’s pants.”

“You’d look better in a dress.”

“Why do you look like a guy?”

“What a shame to hide such a gorgeous body in clothes that weren’t meant for girls.”

Each and every comment is burned into your mind forever and you’ll never stop fighting against the judgment women has to face for not being the conventional beauty all females are expected to be.

There’s a knock on the door and the person behind it barges in without waiting for an answer. The tall, bald guy rushes in, looking a little stressed, but that’s kind of the normal for the owner.

“I’m not sure how to say it, but… you are not performing tonight,” he simply states and your anger sets in faster than ever. You’ve had gigs get cancelled, but not minutes before going on stage. However, he is still not done with his little informative speech. “And your instruments need to be used by another band tonight.”

“What the fuck?” Trey, the drummer jumps to his feet. “No way I’m letting someone else play my drum set!”

“You’ll get half the money if you let it happen,” the owner answers.

“Wait, what band did you find minutes before start?” you ask in complete shock.

“There’s this group celebrating a birthday in the VIP section and some boy band is apparently with them. Birthday girl requested to have the stage for them.”

“And you’re just cancelling on us that easily?” you snap.

“Not that I have a choice. If I don’t do it they are leaving and I’m losing a big amount from the night. Sorry guys, but this is strictly business.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” you laugh bitterly, staring up at the ceiling. This would have been a great chance for all of you, you’ve been trying to get a gig here for months, knowing that a lot of people from the industry fancies it, you might have caught someone’s eyes, but it’s definitely not happening now.

“Are you letting them use your stuff or not?” he urges, hands on his hips as he looks at the four of you impatiently.

“But what about our gig? We’ve been on the waiting list for months, when can we actually perform?”

“Uh, I don’t know. We’re pretty booked, maybe sometime in the summer?”

“Summer?” you gasp in disbelief. “It’s fucking February!”

“Are you lending them your stuff or not? I don’t have the time for your little tantrum!”

“Yeah, if we get the money they can use it,” Connor, the bass guitarist answers before you explode right then and there. The owner walks out with that, leaving the four of you behind, forgotten and humiliated.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Trey groans, plopping down on the couch, covering his eyes with his tattooed arm.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you scoff under your breath, reaching for your bag to grab your pack of cigarettes you keep in it especially for cases like this, whenever you are about to go around and punch every living thing in the face in your reach.

Kicking the backdoor open you lean against the cold brick wall as you light the cigarette and start puffing vigorously, trying to get as much nicotine into your system as possible. You notice a group of guys standing near you in the alleyway, laughing on something, having a great time, oblivious to how hurt and angry you are feeling just a few feet away. You hear frictions of their conversation and it’s clear they are British judging from the accents that are hitting your ears. You finish your cigarette pretty fast and immediately reach for another one even though you know you shouldn’t have even smoked that first one, but you just can’t help it. It’s either the smoking or you’re going after the owner and kick him in the balls for being a bitch.

“Oi, can I ask for one?”

Glancing to the side you see that one of the guys has approached you, smiling at you warmly he nods towards the pack in your hands. Nodding you hold it out for him and he takes one. Before he could even ask for the lighter, you throw it at him and he catches it easily.

“Thanks,” he nods, holding the cigarette between his lips before lighting it and passing the lighter back to you.

“Lou, you really shouldn’t smoke,” you hear one of the others speak up as the rest of the group slowly joins you and the one you just helped out.

“S’fine, don’t act like me motha’,” he shrugs, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“At least not before we go on stage,” the blonde one shakes his head at his friend and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, so you’re the band that’s gonna play?” you ask with a forced smile, already feeling your blood boiling. Who the fuck they are and why do they deserve to steal your gig?!

“We’re just playing a couple of songs,” another speaks up shrugging his shoulders. “No big deal.”

“Glad it’s no big deal to you, because it would have been to the band that was robbed from tonight because of you,” you spat at them, clearly surprising them with your harsh reply.

“I assume you are part of that band, right?” the on with the curly hair speaks up, his green eyes burning down at you.

“Nice job, Sherlock,” you groan, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“You could play with us,” he offers, the others nodding in agreement.

“I don’t need your pity,” you scowl at them. “Bringing me on stage to try to make yourselves look like the good guys is not necessary. I’m just fed up with people like you.” The truth is coming out of you easier than ever. All the years on injustice is seemingly erupting from you, pouring down on these five.

“People like us?” the dark haired one asks with a confused look.

“Yeah,” you nod with a bitter chuckle. “Five conventionally hot guys grouped together for a band, making every girl between the age of ten and thirty scream just by a wink. I don’t know where you came from, but I’m betting my head that you’ve had it easier than others.”

“It’s not nice to assume things when you don’t know anything about us,” Curly speaks up, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I’ve seen enough not to care about what’s nice and what’s not,” you chuckle shaking your head as you take another long puff from your cigarette and throw the butt to the ground, stepping on it. “Who are you even? Some Back Street Boys 2.0?” you ask, folding your arms on your chest, earning a heartfelt laugh from the blondie.

“I kinda like her,” he smirks around his friends. “We’re called One Direction, you haven’t heard of us?”

“Not even once,” you shake your head.

“That’s kinda humbling,” the one with the cigarette smiles. “We’re from the UK. I’m Louis, that’s Liam, Niall, Zayn and Harry.”

“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you guys didn’t just take my gig and lessen me with half my paycheck,” you smile at them sweetly before rolling your eyes.

“Wait, what? They’re not paying you because of us?” Liam asks.

“We only get half the money for lending you our instruments.”

“Let us pay the other half then,” Harry offers right away, but you just laugh at him.

“It’s not about the money, Prince Harry,” you smirk at him, tilting your head to the side. “It’s about justice. How is that air that you just waltz in here and take our time and chance? What if there’s a producer out there who would have liked our music and offered a record deal? What if someone would have taken a video of us performing, put it up to YouTube and it would have gone viral? I assume you never had to go through this phase where you have to beg for every minute on stage so you can at least earn enough money to pay rent. You don’t seem like the type of band who had to perform in smelly bars four times a week for a ridiculous amount of money.”

They stay silent and you know you were right.

“I’m not saying you had it easy, but I’m sure you have no idea what it could have been. And I’m fed up with men walking over others just to have what they want.”

“Look, it wasn’t our intention to ruin your gig. Have your set with your band and then we’ll play a few songs too after that,” Liam offers, but you shake your head.

“No, we weren’t supposed to be just your opening act and it’ll turn into that. So have a nice evening, enjoy your showtime, I’m out.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall you walk back into the building and grabbing your stuff from the dressing room you move out to the bar area, desperately needing a drink.

Sitting on the last stool at the bar you ask for straight tequila and two vodka shots knowing it’ll do the job for the evening and pulling your phone out of your bag, you open up Google. Searching the name One Direction you’re met with quite a few hits and you start scrolling through them, reading about the five boys you just had an encounter with. Just as you thought, they didn’t start off as a traditional band, having put together at a talent show just three years ago, getting such a major push so early in their career, they have no idea how struggling it is to make it in the industry. They surely had their fair share of ups and downs, but they will never know what it’s like to sweat blood and tears for your dream when everyone just wants to drag you down and tell you you’ll never make it.

The shots and half of the tequila is gone, your band joined you to at least get wasted as you watch the technicians set the stage for a band that’s not you, but gonna play with your stuff. Sitting on the stool you’re having a fairly good time thanks to the alcohol when you spot Harry making his way towards you in the crowd.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready backstage?” you ask with an eyeroll as he joins your little circle, the guys eyeing him curiously. Ignoring your comment he pulls out a piece of paper handing it to you. As you unfold it you almost want to throw it back at him.

“This is to make up for what you lost tonight,” he says nodding down at the check in your hands.

“I told you I don’t need your money,” you firmly answer, but Trey grabs the check from your hands.

“But I do!” he snorts. He is such a pig.

“Let us do at least this one thing for you. We really do feel bad for taking your time and the offer to come on stage with us still stands.”

“No thank you,” you shoot him a fake smile before downing the rest of your tequila, the drink burning down your throat. Looking back at Harry you keep your eye locked on him as he watches you intently. He is a good-looking guy, you have to give that to him, but the circumstances you’ve met under just made it impossible for you not to hate him for the privileges he is being handed every day while you fight your way through life.

Harry sighs in defeat nodding as he licks his lips. For a split second, guilt takes over you for the way you’ve been acting towards him and the other boys, but then you remember that you don’t even know him. For all you know, he can be a royal asshole with the face of an angel. You can’t let guilt chew you and spit you out, you have to keep your guards up.

“Alright. We really are sorry. I’ll�� see you around,” he nods before turning around to walk away.

You watch them perform their biggest hits, the whole place going crazy over the impromptu One Direction concert they just got for basically free. The VIP area is going crazy over the boys and with each sang song, you feel yourself getting more and more hopeless about your future as a musician. Here you are on a Saturday night, robbed from a job you’ve worked hard for, watching five British boys take your place on the stage that’s supposed to be yours tonight. You catch Harry’s eyes quite often while he is on stage, he keeps glancing in your way, a hint of guilt glistening in his green irises as he sings their songs with perfect vocals. You can tell he feels bad for the situation and you didn’t make it any easier on him or any of the boys, but you’re not really one to beat around the bush. They deserved to know what others in the industry below them have to deal with every day. It’s not always as glamorous as people might think and you’re the living example of that.

You don’t stick around for long after the boys are done on stage, you help your bandmates pack their stuff and head home before Harry or any other members of One Direction can find you.

Walking past the news stand that’s on the corner of your street, you stop upon seeing your own face smiling back at you from the cover of People Magazine, the title catching your attention.

“Grammy nominee Y/N Y/L/N shares her secret to her one of a kind fashion style.”

Grabbing the magazine off the stand you pay for it and continue your way home, holding the copy to your chest with a warm feeling in your heart.

It’s been only a week since the nominations have come out, but it still feels like a dream. You didn’t just get nominated in the category of Best New Artist, but your album Hands of Power got nominated as Best Album and your biggest hit of last year, Sleepless is running for the title of Best song. Three nominations the first time earning a spot on the list. Not bad.

Just as you walk into your place, your phone buzzes, the ever so smiling face of your manager staring back at you from the screen.

“Hey!” you sing into the phone, holding it to your ear with your shoulder, taking off your boots as you walk further down the hallway.

“Are you home already?”

“Yes, just arrived.”

“Great, I’ll be there in ten,” she announces and ends the call. Chuckling you just shake your head, dropping the phone to the coffee table before you move to the bedroom and change into something more comfortable. The flared jeans looked fire on you today, but you rather wear something looser when you’re at home.

You barely have the time to start the water for a tea when Taylor storms through your door using her keys you’ve given her some time ago. She is wearing all white that looks fantastic with her almond skin tone, a knitted sweater tucked into a maxi skirt, paired with strappy heels, she is always so elegant and perfectly dressed for whatever occasion.

“I have knee-shaking news, girl!” she announces as she throws her purse to the couch before joining you in the kitchen.

“I’m going to be the next Bond girl?” you joke smiling to yourself as you get two mugs from the cupboard.

“Better than that!” she cheers. “You are going to perform at the Grammy’s, baby!” she screams throwing her hands into the air as your jaw drops to the floor.

“You’re not just kidding with me, right?!”

“I would never play such a dirty joke with you. It’s one hundred percent true, I had an hour long phone call with some bloke today and they want you.”

“Yes!” you scream in excitement, jumping up and down like a child that just got a pack of candy. “I’ll make the Grammy’s my bitch!” you cheer, making Taylor laugh.

“Alright, Miss Dominatrix. We still have a lot of things to discuss and there’s one more thing about the performance.”

“Oh God, is this the part where you say something that ruins it completely?” you sigh in defeat as you take the kettle and pour the water into the mugs, dropping a filter into each.

“I don’t think it ruins it,” she shakes her head, but you have a feeling you won’t like what she has to say. “They want it to be like a… joined performance. You’d start off with Sleepless, then it would kind of mesh into your partner’s song and they would end it with one of their own songs.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound bad,” you nod.

“See?” she smiles warmly.

“Do we know who I’m going to perform with?”

“Harry Styles.”

You almost drop both mugs the moment the name is mentioned, but you manage to get them to the kitchen island and slip them to the counter, Taylor giving you a questioning look at your wide-eyed expression.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s… gonna work,” you clear your throat.

“You’re not sure your duet with the biggest male artist can work? Why is that?”

Licking your lips you try to find the right words to say it, but you’re not even sure why you got so shocked over it. Probably because the last time you saw him, you were still nobody, playing gigs at no name bars and he took your spot on the stage with One Direction. It’s weird, but since you’ve finally made it in the industry, you haven’t crossed paths with him and this would be the first time you meet after seven years.

“I’m not sure if he remembers it, but we’ve met before.”

“You and Harry?”

“Yes. I was playing with The Gambits years ago, it was before I started putting out covers on my own. We were supposed to play at this bar but they cancelled on us, because One Direction was there that night and someone wanted them to play instead of us, so we lost the gig. I had a pretty… harsh conversation with him and the band, basically telling them that their pretty man privilege is what ruins the careers of talented women.” “Oh Jesus, Y/N. Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Taylor sighs leaning on her elbows on the countertop.

“Not that it’s something that would just come up in a conversation,” you shrug. “And as I said, he might not even remember it. It was a long time ago.”

“I know you are all about your rebellious past, good for you, but sometimes you’re making my job really fucking hard,” she sighs, grabbing her phone, already typing a message to God knows who. “Starting beef with Harry Styles before you even made a name for yourself? Who does that?”

“It’s not beef!” you protest. “I just gave them my piece of mind.”

“We’ll see what he thinks about it. I have to make a few calls,” she announces before walking out, already on the phone with someone.

Sitting on a stool, staring into your mug you think back at the time you met him. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were fighting to stay afloat, trying to make through the days, barely hanging on a thread. You didn’t know that five years later you’d sign your first record deal as a solo artist and seven years from that night, you’d be a Grammy nominee. It was a long and challenging time for sure with way more downs than ups until you finally got on track and you’ll never forget where you came from. Not when even as an acknowledged artist, you still face judgment and hatred no matter what you do. Being a solo female singer sometimes feels like harder than being president of the country and there are just so many things that need to change in the world of music, you will never stop fighting for girls that are in the same shoe you once were.

Through the years you’ve followed the career of the boys, especially Harry’s. You read about Zayn’s parting, their so-called hiatus and how they all went solo soon after. Genre-wise Harry’s work is what stands the closest to you, and you’ve witnessed all the backlash he has faced during his time in the spotlight. The shaming for whatever women he chose to date, his choice to get into acting and the way he has been dressing. People just don’t seem to understand they can’t have control over any of these and they’ve tried to bring him down one too many times, but he has been thriving lately, anyone can see that.

Your mug empties out by the time Taylor returns, taking her previous stop at the kitchen island.

“Alright, I set up a meeting with Harry and his manager for tomorrow. They still haven’t decided on the performance and apparently, Harry would like to meet you before giving his answer.”

“Oh God, he remembers me,” you growl under your breath.

“Or maybe he doesn’t and just wants to meet the person he is supposed to perform with. We can never know. We’re meeting them at his manager’s office at eleven tomorrow.”

One night is enough to make you go crazy over such a small thing as meeting someone. It’s not like you are nervous to see him because of who he is, it’s more about knowing what he thinks about you after all these years, in case he remembers you. He saw you as a struggling artist at rock bottom and though your encounter didn’t last long and he didn’t know you on a deeper, personal level, you still fear that he remembers and thinks that you’ve lost yourself over the years.

Authenticity has been a huge issue in your life. Early in your career, everyone wanted to change you. The way you dress, your hair, the style of music you write, nothing was good enough as it was, they wanted you to become someone else, someone who was not you. You fought all attempts until the right person came through and accepted you as yourself, but a tiny voice in the back of your mind kept telling you that they succeeded, that somewhere along the fight you did lose yourself and became what you always feared to be.

Meeting Harry is like meeting a piece of your past and having to face what you’ve become. It’s going to be like a mirror right in front of you and what you’ll see might not be what you expect.

Wearing your bright red dungaree with an oversized vintage shirt and a pair of white sneakers, you definitely don’t look like you’re dressed for a business meeting, but when did you ever? Pushing your hair back with a pair of cat eye shades, you leave a little earlier, knowing well traffic is horrible in these hours. You arrive to the office building just minutes before eleven, Taylor has already texted that she has arrived and which office you should come to. When you finally find the door you’ve been looking for, you take a moment to yourself before knocking.

“Come in!” a male voice calls out and you walk in. Taylor is sitting on the sofa that’s pushed against the wall on the left, a man is sitting behind the enormous desk and then there is Harry, standing by the window, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black slacks, and old Rolling Stones t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame as his eyes meet yours upon your arrival.

“Hey, I would say I’m sorry for being late, but I’m actually exactly on time,” you smirk, closing the door behind you. The man stands from the desk and walking around he meets at the front, holding a hand out for you.

“Perfectly on time,” he smiles warmly. “I’m Jeffrey Azoff, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”

“And this here is Harry,” he motions towards the man who has stepped closer and as you look back at him, you’re met with a blank expression for a moment so you can’t figure out if he remembers you or not. But then, a tiny smile tugs on his lips as he holds his hand out for you.

“We’ve met before, right?” he simply questions, and your eyes flicker over to Taylor in a kind of “See? I told you!” manner before you look back at Harry and shake his hand.

“Yeah, we have,” you nod. “A long time ago.”

“Congrats for your nominations,” he smirks, his hand letting go of yours and your let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, thank you. Back at you.”

“Alright, why don’t we start this discussion? We have a lot to go over,” Jeff suggests and you sit beside Taylor while Harry stays near the window, as if he is trying to soak up the sunshine coming through it that’s painting his skin a golden shade.

The concept is simple. The performance would be a mashup from Sleepless and Harry’s song Golden with an exciting and fresh way of mixing the two songs together in the middle, making your song flow into his in a smooth and effortless way. The songs sound compatible and you already have an idea how to mash them together for the transition, but you can’t help but feel doubts over the performance.

“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.

“Not to come off too harsh, but why is my song the first one?” you ask, earning a few puzzled looks. “If Harry finishes it off, he is going to be the one people will remember more and he’ll get the applause as well. The riffs in the songs allow them to be switched, how come it’s not me who comes second?”

You can see the shock on Jeffrey’s face at how straight-forward you were about your concern and that you even dared to speak up about the issue. He clearly hasn’t had to face anything similar before and when he glances at Harry you follow his gaze as well, but instead of shock, what you see on his face is amusement. He is smirking, tapping his fingers against his chin as he stares back at you.

“She has a point,” he nods and you take a deep breath. For a moment, you really thought this is going to be the part where you are thrown off and Harry makes the performance only his.

“I, uhh—this is what’s been requested,” Jeff answers and you tilt your head.

“Okay, can we make a request to change it?” you simply ask, eyeing Taylor next to you who is typing on her iPad vigorously, taking notes of everything that’s said. She is already used to what you’re like, she is not even surprised you came up with the prompt to change.

“Hold on, so just because you want to be second, you get to be?” Harry questions, but he doesn’t come off as harsh, it seems like he is entertained by the conversation. “Does this mean I don’t deserve to be the second one?”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” you answer, taken aback from his accusation and you hate to admit, but he is right. You addressed the issue, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spot either.

“Alright, so then we need to seek a solution that benefits the both of us,” he offers, walking closer from the sunlight and you follow his every movement.

“We could do some kind of medley? Do an ultimate mashup from more songs and have more smaller parts split between us, finishing it together,” you suggest and he nods.

“That could work, but I have something else on my mind.”

“And what would that be?” Jeff asks, a little lost about the situation as he watches the two of you exchange ideas.

“We could write a song together, a duet, and perform that instead of our solo stuff.”

“What?” you snap right away. “You want to write a whole new song just for the Grammy’s?”

“Why not?” he smiles carefreely. “We have almost two entire months to do it, albums have been written in shorter periods, I’m sure we can handle just one song. And I think a collaboration would be a hit for the both of us now.”

You look at Taylor who just stares back at you, ignoring the panic in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” she tells you. “I can see the collaboration working, it could be a huge hit.”

“And what, we’re gonna release it as a single after the show? Whose song is it going to be? I don’t have an album coming up until next year, do you get to have it on your third one then?”

“We can put it out as just a single. No one has to have it on any albums,” Harry replies. “If we released it after the show, it would be just the right timing. Neither of us had any new songs out in a while.” Clenching your jaw you’re trying to find a way out of this collaboration, though you’re not even sure yourself why. Taylor sees right through you, knowing well you’re planning your escape, but she has other plans apparently.

“Y/N, let’s have a few words outside,” she pushes herself up and pulls you with her. Once the door is shut behind the two of you she starts right away. “What the fuck is your problem? The song is a huge thing, it would be an instant hit with him on it!”

“Why do I need a song with him to stay relevant?” you question, folding your arms on your chest.

“No one said it’s about that. But we both know it would be a great push to your name that Jordan has stomped over not so long ago, calling you a Feminist Nazi.”

“Don’t even fucking mention him!” you whisper yell, refusing to even think about that trashbag of a man that ruined your life with his fake accusations.

“Look, I know what you are thinking, that you’ll be seen as just an object next to him, a pair of boobs and nice legs, but that’s not his brand. He doesn’t need you to be sexy next to him, he is known for his honest and real works that go farther than just twerking and being a hoe. We both know he produces meaningful music, so why are you so against it?”

“I just… I-I’m scared to work with him,” you finally admit and it’s the first thing today that surprises Taylor.

“Scared? Thought you’re not scared of anything,” she huffs.

“I never said that,” you give her a look. “Harry met me when I was nobody, it was just me and my big mouth, trying to find my breakout. What if we start working together and he sees that I completely lost that version of myself? I would feel like a liar, an impostor.”

“You are overreacting,” Taylor sighs. “You’ve changed on your way here, but I doubt you are that far from the girl he met before. I know we didn’t meet just a few years after, but I can assure you, you’re still that big-mouthed pain in the ass who fights every norm in the industry like no one else.”

You know she is right, she is always right. Taylor knows you too well, that’s why you love working with her, but sometimes, her honesty throws you way off, especially when she is stating the truth.

The two of you rejoin the two men in the office and they both look at you with anticipation as you fold your arms on your chest and move your gaze over to Harry.

“I would… love to work on a song with you.”

When you agreed to work with Harry you didn’t think you’d find yourself heading over to his house a few days later to have a writing session, but he offered right away that day in the office and Taylor accepted it before you could protest. You’ve had a day filled with meetings and fittings and now you’re rolling up his driveway after punching the security code in that he shared with you over text.

You’ve exchanged numbers on the spot and just like that, you’ve become one of the few people on this world that could contact Harry Styles anytime they want to.

You chose to be casual for the occasion, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white hoodie, you like to be comfortable whenever you’re working on new music and Harry’s presence won’t change your ways about that. You’re not sure what to expect, if you’re being honest you’re still afraid of being alone with Harry and do such an emotional thing together as writing a song.

The front door opens just as you get out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Harry walks out wearing a pair of shorts and a green hoodie, looking like he hasn’t left the house all day.

“Hey, you found the address easily?” he asks smiling as you walk up to him.

“Yeah, everything went fine.”

“Do you want something to drink or eat maybe?” he offers as the two of you walk inside. If you’re being honest, you’re starving, the last time you had anything to eat was between two meetings around ten, but nothing since then, just a granola bar. But you’re a first time guest, you can’t just eat up his fridge, like you’re old pals, right?

However, Harry can see right through you.

“You haven’t had anything in a long time, right?” he softly asks and you purse your lips, feeling awkward already and you haven’t been here for more than two minutes. “I can make you a sandwich, if you’d like.” “Harry, no need, I—“ “No need, but I want to. Come on,” he nods at you, making you follow him into the kitchen. “So, who would have thought we would be here now, huh?” he smirks at you as he gathers the ingredients and starts working on your food while you sit on one of the stools at his kitchen island.

“Not me,” you admit chuckling. “I kind of didn’t think I would see you again, I mean, personally. I was seeing you a lot on TV after that.”

“Now might be a good time to confess that, that night wasn’t the last time I saw you.”

“What?”

“I went to one of your gigs a few weeks later. Stayed at the back, I just really wanted to see you play.”

“And what did you think?” you ask tilting your head to the side. Harry smirks, his eyes meeting yours before they return to the food under his hands.

“You absolutely smashed it. And I felt even worse for taking your time away that night. The people were robbed from a mind-blowing performance and had to see five annoying guys clown on the stage,” he laughs making you chuckle too. “I wasn’t surprised when your name surfaced a few years later. Knew you’d make it at one point.” He joins you at the island and slides the plate in front of you with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” you mumble smiling shyly before you start eating and only after the first bite you feel just how hungry you’ve been. “Now that we are at it, I want to apologize for the way I talked to you guys back then. I feel like I was a bigger asshole than I should have been and the whole situation wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“No need to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You were absolutely right. We had no business being on stage that night and what you said actually made us think about where we came from and appreciate our career more. You were right about having it easy at the beginning. We never had the phase where we had to push our way to the top like other artists, our first days were broadcasted on TV, giving us the biggest push ever.”

It’s good to hear he is not holding grudges against you for whatever went down in the past. You eat in silence while Harry types a response to a message on his phone before turning it with the screen down to pay his full attention to you.

“I actually just messaged Niall that we are working together and he is losing his shit over it,” he chuckles softly.

“You guys still talk?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Not all of us thought,” he adds, pressing his lips together.

“You miss being with the band?”

“It’s… good to rely on someone in certain situations. As a solo artist, you only have yourself and that’s about it. But I think you already know that.”

“I never really liked being in a band,” you admit.

“How come? I think you fit in well with The Gambits.”

You shrug, chewing on your bite slowly. It’s probably not the best time to admit that you prefer working on your own, when you’re about to get into a duet with him.

“I uhh… I always imagined myself being a solo artist and I just couldn’t stay with the guys too long, especially when I got my record deal.”

“Why?” Letting out a long breath you lick your lips looking at him.

“I would have never made it in a band with three guys. It would have always been about which one I’m sleeping with, who am I having an affair with or if I’m lesbian because I’m not hooking up with any of them. This is just how it goes for women.”

Harry stays quiet, taking your words in as you finish the sandwich that was literally lifesaving. You wash the plate even when he tells you to just leave it in the sink, and once that’s done, the two of you move over to his little home studio in the basement of his house.

“So, where do we start?” you ask, making yourself comfortable in one of the armchairs while he grabs an acoustic guitar and sits on the one next to you.

“How do you usually start writing?” he asks scratching his chin before he rests his hands on the body of the guitar.

“Well, most of the times I write when I’m pissed about something,” you huff and Harry smirks at you.

“Nothing pissed you off lately?”

“Not enough to make me write a song,” you point out. “See, this is one of the reasons why I was hesitant to write a song with you. It doesn’t come that easily for me.”

“And what were the other reasons?” You shut your mouth at his question, you weren’t expecting him to pick it up, but apparently, he listens more than you thought.

“It’s… a long story.”

“And we have all the time,” he smiles slyly. “But of course, don’t feel pressured to share. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other more so we can work together easier.”

Harry starts strumming his guitar gently, playing random riffs as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip. Taylor asked you to try and be more open than you usually are and though part of you wants to keep the wall high between you and him, something is telling you to try and reach out to him.

“I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to be seen as just a pretty face next to you. In duets between a man and a woman, females are often seen as just an object, a sight for the eyes but not as serious artists. I worked hard to be taken seriously and I was hesitant about collaborating with you even though your music is not necessarily what I should fear.”

Harry looks back at you with an unreadable expression and you feel like he is judging you for standing up for yourself. Your fight for yourself is often mistaken as “being a bitch” or “being too sensitive” and the amount of times you’ve been told to just chill is upsetting.

“Well, good thing then that I won’t write music about twerking,” he then finally speaks up, a smile breaking his blank expression.

“But you do write a lot about sex,” you point out with a smirk.

“That I do, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be sexist at the same time.”

“You’re right,” you nod smiling.

 The writing process turns out to be harder than you thought. You’re not specifically inspired and Harry is the person to just throw things around until he finds something he likes. The two of you put together is kind of chaotic as you try to come up with something useful.

Two hours later you have a raw version of a melody that could serve as a chorus, but nothing else, no full melody, no lyrics. And if you’re being honest, you don’t like that chorus that much either.

“It’ll be fun to just stand on stage for three minutes and do absolutely nothing, because we couldn’t write anything,” you groan, sliding lower in your seat, rubbing your face with your hands.

“It’s literally our first session and we have plenty of time, Y/N. Don’t stress about it.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You don’t know how not to stress?”

“I literally haven’t had a stressfree day since about 2007, so no, I don’t know.”

“You can’t chill even when you smoke?” he asks and you give him a puzzled look. “What, you smoke, don’t you?”

“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”

“No, I’m not talking about cigarettes,” Harry chuckles softly. “You don’t smoke weed?” You shyly shake your head. “Really? I would have sworn you’re the type to relax with a good joint. Want to try it?”

“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Why not?” he shrugs and walks over to the little side table in the corner of the room and reaching into it he simply pulls a little plastic bag out with three joints in them.

“Are you just casually keeping joints around your house?”

“I don’t really smoke them, they make me feel sleepy. But some of my friends like it so I keep a few around,” he explains as he takes one out and puts the rest back. “You want to try?”

“I-I’m not sure… I have to drive back home.”

“You can stay for the night, I have three guest bedrooms,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Again, not trying to pressure you, I’m just offering.”

“Are you gonna smoke?”

“We can share one if you want. I would recommend smoking one by yourself for the first time.”

“Okay,” you nod shortly as you watch him tip-tap the joint a little, rolling it between his fingers before he takes it between his lips and reaches for a lighter. “Wait, shouldn’t we do it somewhere outside? The smoke is gonna get stuck in here.”

Harry stops, thinking about what you said and he nods. Grabbing the guitar he asks you to follow him and the two of you move up and out to the terrace, sinking into his lounge chairs. You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as you watch Harry light the joint and take the first few puffs. As he exhales the smoke he holds the joint out for you and you take it, hesitantly putting it between your lips as you inhale for the first time. You can’t help but scowl at the taste, the whole act of smoking feeling strange after years of smoking your last cigarette. You keep it down a little before puffing the smoke out and passing the joint back to Harry.

You keep switching until you make it past half of it and you finally start to feel the effect of it. You feel light, like you’re floating in the pool that’s in front of you, you can almost feel the water touching your skin yet you’re still dry.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, blinking at you with hooded eyes.

“I’m feeling… fine,” you chuckle softly as you take the joint from him and drag from it again. “Do you do other drugs?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, not often though. I’m not trying to pick up an addiction,” he smiles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Have you done anything?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Didn’t have the money for it before and then didn’t have time later. But I never really felt the need either.”

“And you said you put down the cigarette as well?”

“Yeah. I knew I had to do that sooner or later, it was starting to change my voice and I couldn’t have that.”

“That’s what we always told Louis, that his voice will turn to shit if he keeps smoking,” Harry chuckles softly, dragging from the joint before he passes it over to you, not much left of it.

“Did he ever stop?”

“I think he put it down when his son was born, but I don’t know if he started again.”

You give the joint back for him to finish it and you watch him put it out in the ashtray before he sinks down in the lounge chair, closing his eye for a bit, breathing steadily. You find it amusing how you can still see the guy that handed you a check years ago at that bar, trying to make things right, but he also looks like a completely different person at the same time. He is more mature and open in his mindset and just the way he approaches things in general. The Harry you met seven years ago was still searching his way, but the version lying next to you now is a lot more confident in who he really is.

“Want to take a picture?” he hums keeping his eyes closed.

“What?”

His eyes peel open and turn to face you, a smug smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been staring at me. Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

“You are way too full of yourself,” you scoff and pushing yourself up from the lounge chair you walk over to the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the way the light is dancing on the surface.

You never really thought about what weed would feel like in your system, but it feels oddly tranquil and relaxing. In a way your body feels a little strange, like it’s not even yours, but you also sense everything very… loudly.

“You alright?” you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind, the tapping on his feet signaling that he is walking closer to you.

“Yeah,” you nod without taking your eyes off of the water.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

“What?” you breathe out turning to face him.

“Do you want to go in?” he rephrases his question with a small smile.

“I don’t… have a bathing suit,” you answer and the moment the words leave your mouth they feel so ridiculous even when you were just stating the truth.

“Okay, but you are wearing underwear, aren’t you?” he smirks. “Or I’m completely fine if you want to go in naked,” he adds smugly.

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “Can you… maybe give me a pair of shorts? I’m fine without a bra when I come out but I would rather have my underwear on dry.”

“Sure,” he hums and turning around he jogs back into the house while you stay right there, staring at the water again.

With each passing moment you get calmer, the outside world and everything in life that’s not happening right in this moment eases into nothingness, your mind numbs in the best way possible.

When Harry returns he is wearing a pair of yellow swimming shorts, two towels are thrown over his shoulders and he has a pair of white shorts in his hands.

“This is the smallest thing I have, I think it’ll be fine,” he comments handing you the shorts.

“Thanks,” you nod before he shows you the way to the closest bathroom where you change out of your clothes leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the counter, you put on the shorts that are a little big on you, but once you’ve tied the strings it seems to be staying up steadily. Your simple black bra is not showing more than what a bikini top would, so you feel fine walking out in your attire.

Harry is sitting at the edge of the pool, his legs moving around in the water. His head lifts hearing your steps and he smiles at you, standing up when you arrive.

“Fits fine,” he nods, taking a look at the shorts.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

Walking over to the steps you dip your feet in first, testing the temperature before you start going in further, Harry following you right behind. Just as you expected, the water feels smooth against your skin, warmly caressing and swallowing your body as you get in, the surface reaching your chest. You let your arms move around, feel how the water runs through your fingers, it’s amusing and you enjoy it probably more than you should. It’s just water, but right now it feels like a pile of clouds.

“I know I suggested to smoke and then swim, but please don’t drown into my pool, I won’t be able to talk myself out of that,” he chuckles, easing him into the water until it reaches his neck.

“My life is in your hands, Harry,” you smirk at him before you follow him and let the water swallow your whole body up to your neck.  “This feels so nice.”

“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.

“Mm, like I’m… floating through space.”

“In a sense, you are floating in the water,” he chuckles. “You don’t feel sick, right?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smile at him shortly.

You move over to the edge of the pool, laying your arms to the side, holding yourself up so your legs could float in the water. You watch Harry dive under and swim across the pool, reaching the far end before he pushes himself over to you.

“When I went to see you perform there was a song I really liked, but I never found it anywhere later.”

“Which one?”

“The chorus went like… Crashing and crumbling, I’m fighting for my breath, Today won’t be the day I’m meeting death…”

You suck on your breath, surprised how well he remembered the lines even after so many years. He recalled them perfectly, even singing the melody a little with them.

“I never recorded it in studio,” you admit quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because it felt too emotional and I didn’t want it to be just out there.”

“What was the name of the song?”

“It’s called Till I Die. I wrote it when…” You take a deep breath, feeling heavy just by talking about it, but something is urging you to share it with him. “I left from home right after I graduated high school, broke contact with my parents completely and I had a few very rough years, trying to just… keep myself alive, I guess.”

“Can I ask why you left your parents?”

“We had very different visions of what I should become. And I didn’t intend to live the life they imagined for me. My parents are very… traditional, my career in their eyes is just some kind of circus when I’m the clown on the stage. They don’t take any of it seriously and they made it very clear at the beginning that they don’t want me to become a musician. I was supposed to become a surgeon, my dad is one and my mom is in criminal law, they both worked very hard to get to where they are, but they don’t think that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.”

The last person you shared it with was Taylor and though it feels odd to open up about these old wounds again, but having Harry as the one listening to you just feels right.

“You haven’t talked to them since you left?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“And they didn’t even try to contact you?”

“Well, I made sure they couldn't. Changed my number first thing I set my feet outside the house and I never left them any of my addresses. I know it sounds cruel, but I didn’t want to do anything with them after the shaming they put me through when I told them I don’t want to become their perfect little daughter. They told me that I could consider myself disowned from the family if I dare to even write a song.”

“Woah, that sounds really tough.”

“It was,” you nod. “I wasn’t asking them to support me in any other way apart from just being there for me. It’s not like I wanted to spend the money the put aside for my tuition to buy guitars and tour the country, I just wanted them to… accept who I am, but apparently, I asked for too much.”

You feel tears forming in your eyes, but you wipe them quickly. It’s been long since the last time you let the thought of your parents, you’ve been good at keeping these feelings bottled up and in the deepest end of your mind. It’s not like you’re going around and just share your trauma with anyone you meet, but it felt comfortable to share it with Harry.

“I’m sorry about that. Everyone should have a support, especially in our job.”

“I had… myself,” you chuckle bitterly. “Became pretty good at relying only on myself.”

“I’m guessing it’s another reason why you prefer working alone, right?” he smiles at you softly.

“You could say that,” you nod into the water.

“I know it’ll sound cheesy, but… if you ever want to talk, I’m here,” he offers.

“Oh, are we becoming friends?” you ask chuckling.

“We’ve known each other for long enough to be friends, am I right?” he smirks, splashing some water in your way.

“We met a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Everything I know about you is from articles and gossip sites and I think you can only say the same thing,” you point out.

“Okay, then let’s get to know each other.”

“What, do you want to play 21 questions now or something?” you huff.

���Damn right,” he smirks.

And that’s exactly what you do. Swimming around in the pool you ask each other questions, some are funny, some are more serious and you slowly start to get to know each other, seven years after meeting for the first time, but in a way it feels like it’s been just last week when you were talking in the alleyway.

The weed soon dies down in your system, leaving you incredibly tired and it’s only then you realize it’s already past one am. Pulling out of the pool, you both grab a towel drying yourselves up before making your way back into the house.

“The guest bedroom next to mine has a bathroom so I think that’s the best one. I can give you something to sleep in if you’d like,” Harry offers as you follow him down the hallway.

“I think I’m fine in my sweats, but thank you.” He shows you the room, tells you how to change the AC if you feel too cold or hot and then bidding goodbye he is about to go to his own room when you stop him.

“Thank you for… today. I know we didn’t get far with the song, but… I liked hanging out with you,” you admit with a shy smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about the song, it’ll be fine. And I liked it too. We can make it a regular thing, if you want. You can come over, we’d chill and try to cook up something for the song.”

“I, uhh… Yeah, that sounds good,” you nod, he shoots you a smile before turning around and disappearing in his room.

The morning doesn’t turn out at all any awkward, especially because you don’t get to stay around too long. You have a meeting at eleven so you have to leave in time to go home and get changed before that. Harry makes you coffee, which is lifesaving, the two of you sit at the terrace as you drink it and you arrange to meet in two days to try and have another, hopefully more successful session for the song.

You genuinely enjoyed your time with Harry and to think that you didn’t only smoked weed for the first time with him, but also opened up about your parents, you feel a kind of connection forming and you can only hope you’re not gonna regret it later.

You move on with work after leaving from Harry’s that morning, you have some fittings for upcoming photoshoots and an interview scheduled, so there’s not much time for you to sit around. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Harry again at his place for another session and you feel buzzed about it. You meet Taylor for lunch, sitting on the terrace of your usual place she is talking you through everything that’s coming up the next week, just like you always do so then you can put work aside and have a real chat.

“So how did the writing session go?” she asks, digging into her salad that she always asks with extra chicken.

“The writing? Not so well. But we had a good time,” you truthfully admit.

“Good, good! You’re finally making friends!” Taylor grins, satisfied with the news. You just roll your eyes at her, turning back to your food right when you notice that your phone has been blowing up with notifications.

Huffing you grab it from the table with the pure intention of muting it down completely, but then you see that several people have texted you the same link and it bugs your curiosity so you open one of the messages and tap on the link.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you groan, feeling your rage already pushing up your spine, clouding your vision in red.

“What?” Taylor snaps, reaching for her phone out of reflex.

“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”

“Who? Jordan? That fucker never learns?” Taylor hisses, her thumbs vigorously typing on the screen immediately.

“Someone asked him about me on Twitter and he dared to call me a lying bitch! I can’t fucking believe this man!”

You and Jordan worked together on a project a while ago. You were supposed to write lyrics to a song he was composing and it was meant for an upcoming popular Netflix show, so the anticipation around the song was huge, especially when word got out that Ariana Grande might end up singing it. During your time working together he very blatantly tried to hit on you, which you politely shut down, because one, you didn’t intend to date someone you were working so close with and two, you just simply weren’t into him. However, he couldn’t take rejection the way a mature, almost thirty years old man should. It started off very subtly, but once you’ve had a chat with him to stop posting obnoxious and suggesting things about you on his social media, because it’s making it hard for you to be taken seriously as an artist and that people will just see you as another celeb which you don’t want to be, he just completely lost his shit. He called you different names on Twitter a few times, the worst were Feminist Nazi and a cock teasing slut, and he just somehow never fails to mention that you lied about your intentions with him, when you were clearer than daylight that you didn’t want a thing from him other than work.

When you realized he isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, you took him to court, dragged his ass in front of the judge and won the case, which ended with him having to pay you thirty thousand dollars and he was ordered to clear all his platforms from your name for good. You really thought that taught him a lesson, especially because against your will, the case got some publicity and he ended up making headlines about the fault accusations he made about you, but it seems like he didn’t have enough.

You wouldn’t worry that much about his new tweet, knowing that he is the one lying, but the trials took a toll on you. It was at the beginning of the time when you were making yourself a name and even though you won, his accusations stung for some people and some even thought him to be the victim. You fell out of two brand deals and an important interview in the upcoming months which was a major setback and all for what? Because a man couldn’t accept rejection? The sad part is that if it would have happened the other way around, he wouldn’t have had to suffer any effect of it, people don’t tend to question a man’s words when he is showing this charming and nice persona to the public. If you accused him the same way you would have been dragged and titled as a sour crybaby and Jordan’s life would have carried on the same way.

The peaceful lunch soon falls through as Taylor turns on her beast mode to at least get the tweet down as soon as possible, already contacting the legal team you worked with before. It has to be against what you agreed on at the end of the trials, he can’t just go around and drag you again without any consequences.

In just about twenty minutes, the tweets disappear from Jordan’s feed, but you know it was already late the moment he posted it. If something gets out on the internet it never goes away, there are probably hundreds if not thousands of screenshots floating around that will preserve his words forever.

You part ways Taylor as he heads to an immediate meeting with the lawyers you worked together previously, she tells you to try not to worry about it, but you can’t just turn it off in you, that’s not how it works.

Making your way home you keep riling yourself up about it, thinking about what it’s gonna cause you this time, what opportunity is going to be taken because a man has called you a lying bitch, even after winning the previous trial against him that proves how big of an asshole he really is.

Changing into a casual attire you head to Harry’s place a little earlier, hoping it’s not a problem you get there an hour before you were supposed to. Arriving you’re a little taken aback seeing that there is another car parking on the driveway that’s not his and you immediately regret coming here, but before you could leave, the front door opens and Harry walks out. You couldn’t have left without noticing, the security system must have signaled your arrival when you punched the opening code in.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks instead of questioning your early arrival.

“I uhh—I’m sorry for being early, I could go—“

“Don’t be silly, come on in!” he waves at you and you walk up the stairs. “Two friends are here but they were just about to leave soon,” he explains as you walk in.

“Sorry for crashing the party,” you let out a soft chuckle.

“The more the merrier,” he smiles. “You seem a little stressed, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just… It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“Oh my God, is that who I think it is?” you hear a woman’s voice from behind and turning around you see a smiley brunette walking towards you, a shy looking guy following behind her.

“Sarah, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sarah, my drummer, and that wanker over there is Mitch, my guitarist.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with both of them you realize they look familiar from pictures you’ve seen from Harry’s tour.

“I saw that ugly tweet today, that guy needs to be kicked in the balls,” Sarah sighs with a sympathetic smile, Harry’s ears perking up.

“What tweet?” he asks, eyes switching between you and Sarah.

“Oh, just… Jordan Wells thinks it’s fine to drag people with absolutely no truth behind his words,” you answer with a tight-lipped smile.

“Jordan Wells? The name rings a bell,” Harry hums.

“He is a music producer,” Mitch chimes in.

“I think he was supposed to write for 1D one time, but the deal fell through. Guess we didn’t miss out on anything,” he jokes and it brings a genuine smile to your face.

“You surely didn’t,” you comment under your breath.

You chat with Sarah and Mitch for a bit before they decide to head out, but Sarah asks you to come around sometime they are hanging out and you gladly say yes, wanting to know her and Mitch better, they seem like great company and even greater musicians, it’s always good to meet people who are like you.

As Harry walks his friends out you make yourself comfortable on the couch, reading Taylor’s texts about the update on the recent actions, she has gotten in contact with Jordan’s team and legal steps will be taken if Jordan doesn’t show any sign of improvement in the very near future.

“Hey, want something to drink? Wine or beer maybe?” Harry walks in as you look up from your phone.

“Wine sounds fucking fantastic,” you breathe out earning a soft chuckle from him. You follow him into the kitchen and watch him get a bottle of white wine with two glasses. “I hope Sarah and Mitch didn’t leave early because of me.”

“Oh, not at all. They knew you’d be coming over and would have left around this time, so don’t worry about it.”

He joins you at the kitchen island with the two glasses handing you one and you take a sip from it with a satisfied hum.

“So, want to talk about this Jordan ordeal?”

“There’s not much to talk, really,” you shrug. “He is a jerk and I just can’t seem to get rid of him and I didn’t even date the guy…”

“What did he do this time?”

“Oh, he just casually called me a lying bitch on Twitter, so that’s fun,” you let out a fake laugh, raising your glass before taking a big swig from it.

“Not that creative, if you’re asking me,” he jokes making you laugh. “It’s a very plain choice of words.”

“Yeah, not as good as his best which was calling me a feminist nazi.”

Harry almost chokes on his wine as you say the words, coughing a little while you watch him with an entertained smirk.

“That’s… an interesting way to express his opinion about you,” he answers diplomatically.

“Right? I was thinking about getting a sign of it, like a Live, Love, Laugh one, in the middle of my living room.”

“Would be a wonderful touch of décor,” he smirks. “Alright, I have a proposal for today’s session.”

“Shoot it.”

“You seemed to enjoy your weed experience the last time, I thought we could give it a try again, but we would try to write this time as well.”

“You want to write while smoking?” you ask raising your eyebrows at him.

“Only if you want to. I just thought it would relax you a bit, might even come up with some interesting ideas for the song.”

“Are you trying to turn me into an addict?” you narrow your eyes at him and he just holds his hands up innocently.

“Told you, no pressure,” he smirks angelically.

“I feel like I’m not even coming here to work but to meet with my new dealer,” you chuckle making him laugh. “Okay, we can… give it a try.”

 An hour and one joint per person later the two of you are lounging in his living room, he is sprawled out on the loveseat with a guitar on his arms while you are curled upon the sectional, fumbling with the strings of your hoodie.

“We should just… fucking steal a song,” you snort, finding your comment hilarious.

“Which one were you thinking about?” Harry smirks your way, his fingers gently strumming some random melody on the instrument.

“I really want to have a Madonna song to be mine,” you sigh dreamily.

“You’re a fan?”

“Oh, I grew up on her. I have an elaborate choreography for Hung Up,” you snort.

“You need to perform it for me.”

“No fucking way,” you laugh shaking your head. “Not even weed can make me dance for you.”

“Come on, I need to see that choreography, you can’t just hint it and then never show it to me!”

“Nah, not happening,” you laugh, sliding lower down in your seat, your head resting against the armrest of the couch.

You listen to him play the same melody over and over again with your eyes closed and though you really like what you are hearing, no words are forming in your mind that could serve as lyrics. Your phone buzzes on the cushion next to you and grabbing it you see a text from Taylor.

Taylor: Lawyers are on the case, we’ll have more tomorrow, don’t stress about it too much. Night! Xx

Sighing you drop the device back next to you, covering your eyes with your arms.

“You alright?” Harry softly asks.

“Nah, I just want to… disappear,” you sigh, tired of this fight you’ve been fighting for way too long.

“Is this about Jordan? He is a fucking ass, most people know it.”

“But not everyone!” you snap throwing your hands up. “And that fraction that still believes that he is saying the truth is enough to ruin my life. I’m fucking fed up with the injustice women have to face because of the patriarchy we are forced to live in!” Pushing yourself up you run a hand through your hair, hugging your knees to your chest. “It’s so fucking upsetting, like everything I do goes straight down the drain because of one little thing and I’m stuck with trying to rebuild my whole future plan.”

From a sudden urge, you move down to the floor, lying down on the fluffy rug that runs under the couches and the glass coffee table. It feels nice, kind of grounding to lie flat on the floor, especially because your senses are all messed up again because of the weed, but in a good kind of way.

“You worry way too much on longterm things. Try to stay in the moment a little more,” Harry tells you, putting the guitar to the side so he can move his feet to the floor, leaning onto his knees. “You can’t control this much what happens in the future, you should only care about today. And today, you’ve done good, you made it through another day, you did what you had to do and that’s it. Stressing about tomorrow or the next week or next year is just way too much to deal with all the time, twenty-four-seven, three-six-five, that’s just no way to live.”

Lying on the floor you stare up at the ceiling seemingly blankly, but your mind starts to swirl over what he just told you. The worlds are running around, mixing and mingling until something starts to form, making you gasp.

“Grab the guitar,” you tell him, sitting up abruptly. He pulls his eyebrows together, but does as you told him to, holding the instrument on his lap as he waits for you to instruct him more. “Play that… that melody you’ve been playing, but a little faster.”

He turns his attention at the guitar, trying the strings out a few times, feeling the melody under his fingers before he starts playing it just how you asked as you slowly start to sing the lines you have just thought about.

“You made it through… another day, you made it through another day… You did it, let’s celebrate…”

The lines fit perfectly with the melody he has come up with and the more you sing, the wider his smile grows as you move along in the forming song.

“Some days you feel you’ll break, but you made it through another day, yeah, you did it, let’s celebrate…”

“Don’t fucking stop!” he chimes in, never stopping the riffs, trying out new things as you go, slowly perfecting it together with the lyrics.

“Twenty-four-seven and three-six-five, you made another day, you made it alive! Made another day made it alive!” You sing loud and clear, completely lost in the melody Harry is playing, the lines just flowing out of you, like a dam has been taken down and now everything washes over you at once.

When the chorus is about to come up however you run out of ideas, your eyes meet Harry’s and he sees that you’re stuck. His eyebrows knit together, tongue runs along his lips before he starts playing the melody of the chorus and takes over the singing as well.

“So today, baby, remember it’s okay! We’re all floating through space, today, baby, remember you’re okay! We’re all floating through space…”

He plays a little with the lines, repeats them, tries a few times before he stops singing, you are now standing up, watching him end the melody, neither of you saying a word as he room grows silent. A sudden urge drives you to go closer and you sit back down to the floor in front of him, your eyes casting over the now silent instrument on his lap. Looking up your eyes meet his and you feel like the air is kicked out of your lungs.

You’ve heard so much about moments when you feel yourself pulling towards someone, when it’s like a magnetic field but you never actually experienced it until now. Staring back at Harry you feel that pull everyone has talked about and you finally understand what they were trying to say. It’s like there’s a string coming from your chest that’s connected to him and he is tugging it without even doing anything.

Reaching forward he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers dancing down the side of your face as you catch his eyes wander down to your lips. Sucking on your breath you feel the moment, you know what he is thinking about because you think about the exact same thing. Kissing him. You are desperate to find out what his lips feel against yours, what he tastes like, what it’s like to have him so close to you.

“You want to kiss me,” you whisper and it’s not a question, more like an observation.

“I do,” he admits with a soft smile, but doesn’t move closer. “Can I?”

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to do in our situation,” you breathe out, though you don’t agree with the statement fully.

“You think too much,” he chuckles softly, leaning closer just a tad bit, but there are still a few inches between the two of you. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“Then we should just do what we want to,” he suggests with a small smirk and he looks ridiculously handsome with his dimples and shining green eyes that are glued to you.

“And then what? We’ll just go on like it never happened or there’s going to be more happening? How are we supposed to—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry closes the distance between you and him and presses his lips against yours, swallowing the rest of your stammering speech. Whatever doubts and hesitation you felt just a moment ago, it all vanishes into nothing as you melt into his kiss, his lips caressing yours gently, softly capturing them, savoring and tasting you with caution, giving you the chance to pull back anytime, but nothing in your body can make you stop kissing him in this moment.

His palms cup your jaw as you push yourself up, slowly making your way to straddle his lap after he has blindly put the guitar to the side, hands coming to rest on his shoulder for leverage. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you close until your chest is pressed up against his, lips never disconnecting in the kiss.

Kissing him feels like second nature, like it’s not even the first but the hundredth time, but on the other hand, every touch and tiny sparkle is so new and unusual, you’ve never felt like this before.

Harry slowly pulls back, pecking your lips a few more times before he stops, nuzzling his nose against you in an adorable and innocent way that brings a smile to your lips.

“Doesn’t it feel good to just do whatever you feel like doing?” he asks with a soft smile, making you laugh.

“Kind of.”

“Nothing has to change. Or something can, it’s up to you.”

“You are so upsettingly cool and respectful,” you blurt out chuckling and it makes him laugh, his head falling back against the back of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I guess?” he smirks with a shrug.

“See? Respectful!” you grin, your hands moving up to cup his face. The pad of your thumbs gently tap against his dimples that are showing thanks to the wide smile on his lips right now. You can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing him again, even though your rational side is trying to make you stop. You just can’t, his lips are screaming to be kissed and who are you to deny that?

You’ve been running errands all day. Following an early meeting you ran to your favorite vintage store to get another armchair for your living room. Then you went grocery shopping because your fridge has been ridiculously empty the past two days and later you had a quick fitting for a few outfits you are supposed to wear in the near future. You’ve ran into a few fans too, having small chit-chats with them, taking photos, so it’s been a busy day.

It’s been a week since you and Harry have kissed and despite your fears, it hasn’t been awkward at all. He didn’t bring it up, but you don’t feel like he is pretending it never happened, which is kind of a great balance. He is giving you just enough time and space to figure out what it really meant to you, because quite frankly, you have no idea.

Obviously, you find him attractive. You’d have to be completely blind to say that he is not handsome and just simply good to look at. You’re attracted to him and not just to his looks, but to his whole persona.

It’s just you’re not sure it’s a smart idea to start anything with the man you’re working with and though you know Harry is nothing like Jordan, part of you is still scared the whole thing will happen all over again if you get involved with another man from the industry.

Workwise, everything is going well. You’ve successfully finished the song you started that ominous evening and have started recording it in Harry’s home studio, working some more on the melody, bringing a lot more into it than just a single guitar. What more, you’ve been coming up with new ideas for other songs, lyrics popping up in either your or Harry’s head and you just keep sharing them with each other, saving them for later once the song for the Grammy’s is done.

Heading back to your place you get a call from Harry, his smiley face appearing on the screen of your face as you accept the call and his accent fills the car through the speakers that are connected to your phone through Bluetooth.

“Hey, hope I’m not calling in the middle of a meeting,” he greets you and you can tell he is smiling.

“No, I’m just on my way home. What’s up?”

“I’m meeting with Sarah and Mitch for dinner tonight, thought you’d like to join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your friends, I feel like you’ve been spending all your time with me.”

“But I like spending time with you,” he chuckles softly, a blush making its way to your cheeks at his words.

“Are you sure you want me there? What about Sarah and Mitch? I crashed your last meeting with them as well.”

“You didn’t crash anything, Y/N. And I’m positive I want you there, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. And just so you know, Sarah asked if you’d be joining us, so I assume they wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Oh, well, okay then. Send me the time and place.”

“Wonderful!” he beams, his enthusiasm making your chest warm.

By the time you arrive home he has already texted you the details and you have just one hour to spare before you have to head out. You opt for a quick shower and an outfit change, switching up your ripped mom jeans and simple t-shirt to one of your favorite jumpsuits. It’s a little baggy, but the waist is cinched in with an inbuilt corset, giving the whole fit a very interesting twist.

Arriving at the restaurant Harry has texted you the address of, the waiter escorts you to the terrace at the back that’s a lot more secluded and you feel yourself relaxing that you probably won’t get photographed. Harry is the only one who is already at the table, sitting with his eyes fixed on his phone, but he immediately puts it aside when he sees you approaching, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey! You look amazing!” he greets you pulling you into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” you smile shyly. He is wearing a pair of brown slacks, a simple white shirt tucked into it, a knitted cardigan thrown on, a typical Harry outfit. “And thanks for the invite,” you add as you take the seat next to him, assuming Sarah and Mitch would like to sit next to each other.

“Don’t even mention it. We’re friends, it’s really nothing. I’m glad you could make it.”

The way he called you friends is giving you mixed feelings. Part of you is happily jumping up and down at the fact that he considers you as a friend, given how you don’t have many of those. It’s been hard opening up to anyone since you’ve made a name for yourself, you’ve ran into occasions a lot when people wanted more than just your friendship from you and it made you rather closed off when it comes to making friends.

On the other hand, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Is that all you are? Just friends? More importantly, is that all you want to be, or more?

Sarah and Mitch arrive soon after, joining you at the table and the waiter takes the orders before leaving the four of you alone. It seems like they genuinely like it that you’ve joined, so you can enjoy the evening a little more relieved.

Sipping on some amazing wine, you eat and talk and you feel like you’ve known these people your whole life. You especially like Sarah, she is so open-minded and funny and you think they make a great couple with Mitch who is obviously more closed off, but it’s obvious how much he worships his girlfriend.

Sometime in the evening, when you’ve already had two glasses of Chardonnay and you’re feeling a lot more relaxed and comfortable, you move closer to Harry without even noticing, leaning against him gently and his hand rests on your knee, giving it a soft squeeze under the table, making you want to move even closer to him to feel more of his touch, to get more of him.

Neither Sarah, nor Mitch questions the two of you being a little cozier and you’re thankful for the safe and stressfree environment they are providing, not making you overthink what you do, just letting you enjoy the moment.

At the end of the evening, you can’t shake the thought that you don’t want to say goodbye to Harry just yet. He pays for everyone’s dinner, leaving a generous tip for the waiter and you stay back at the table while Sarah runs out to the restroom and Mitch takes a quick call from his father, leaving you alone with Harry. His hand is still resting on your leg, a little farther up, but still in a very safe zone in the middle of your thigh.

Turning to face him your eyes meet his, his green irises glistening in the soft lighting and he looks so beautiful, you just want to kiss him again.

“Do you have plans after this?” you find yourself asking.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

“That sounds like a nice plan,” he smiles at you warmly and you just know that if you weren’t out in the public, he would have leant in for a kiss and you wouldn’t have stopped him.

When Sarah and Mitch return all four of you head out and they don’t question when you follow Harry to his car. They say goodbye and Sarah makes you promise to join them some other time too and you happily say yes to the invitation.

Not much is being said on the way back to your place, he plays some music quietly as you navigate him through the streets.  

“Welcome to mi casa,” you smile as you key the two of you into your apartment you’ve been living in for the past few years.

It’s nothing luxurious, just a tad bit bigger than what one person would need as a home. You would have been fine living in your previous home you lived in before you’ve gained fame, but you needed a much bigger closet so you were forced to move. It’s a two bedroom apartment with one big bathroom, an open concept kitchen and a spacious living room. And of course, a closet as big as your bedroom. It’s the perfect size and you haven’t even thought about buying a bigger place just because you can, it would be a waste of money and space. The interior is very much vintage with all your mismatched furniture and colorful walls, but you think it’s quite cozy and just the ideal space for you.

“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to get yourself some water.

“Some water would be great, thank you.”

Filling up two glasses you hand him one as you lean against the counter, silently eyeing each other. It should be clear to him that you had intentions with asking him to come over, especially after being your cozy with each other during dinner, but you’re a little lost in what you should or even want to do. You just know you want him close.

He drinks up his water, his eyes meeting your gaze as a small smirk tugs on his cherry lips.

“You want to kiss me,” he states, using the exact same words you used the night when you kissed for the first time.

“I do,” you nod, feeling a little breathless.

“Then do it,” he simply answers, making you smile.

“Cool and respectful, as always,” you grin at him as he moves closer, stopping just a few inches away from you, your feet almost touching. Reaching up his fingers gently caress the side of your face and you feel yourself already melting under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, a shiver running down your spine at his words. You close your eyes for a moment, giving yourself the chance to pull out of it, but you realize you don’t want that, not even the tiniest bit. Opening your eyes they meet with his gaze before you move closer, closing the distance between you and him, lips meeting in a warm and chaste kiss.

Though it grows a little hungrier, you can tell he is still holding back a little, giving you the chance to stop whenever you want to, but you don’t intend to. Pushing yourself closer to him, your arms curl around his neck as his hands grip your waist, your tongue meeting his as you deepen the kiss and melt into his embrace.

Pulling back you grab his hand and head to the bedroom, going back to kissing him the moment you reach it. You easily slide his cardigan off his broad shoulders, pulling his t-shirt out of his pants before taking it completely off, throwing it somewhere to the side. You smirk against his lips, hands wandering down his naked chest and you can’t push down a moan as you feel the warmth of his chest muscles under your touch.

When you feel him try to blindly figure out how to get you out of your jumpsuit with not much luck and this clears your head for a moment to realize what is about to happen. Pulling back your gaze meets his and he stares back at you with caution, ready to stop whenever you tell him to, but that’s not what made you pull back.

“Harry, I…” “We don’t have to do anything,” he softly tells you, his fingers dancing down the side of your face until they reach your chin and he pulls you in for a delicate and slow kiss.

“I want to,” you whisper. “It’s just that… I want you to know that I’ve never… I’ve never been with a man before.”

Searching in his eyes you look for any sign of what’s going on in his head wishing you could just simply read his thoughts.

“You’ve never been with a man?” he asks, seemingly not as surprised as you expected him to be. You nod, licking your lips, waiting for any kind of reaction, a part of you expecting to be upset, though you know he has no right to be mad at you for any of it. “Do you want me to be the first man?” he then asks, with a loving and warm smile as his hand on your hip pulls you against him playfully.

“Yes.”

“Then help me get you out of this jumpsuit, because I can’t figure it out for my life,” he chuckles making you laugh too.

You show him where the corset opens and then get you out of it with joined forces, finally leaving you standing in just your underwear. Harry’s gaze runs down your body, a look of hunger and passion shining through his green irises as he pulls you close again, kissing you with a lot more vigor this time.

Soon enough, his slacks slip to the floor and you climb to your bed, Harry following closely, climbing on top of you before rejoining your lips. Your knees open up wide for him, allowing him to sink his hips between your thighs, his crotch meeting your heated center, a moan slipping out your lips when you feel his erection rubbing against you through the material of your underwear. He kisses his way down your jawline and neck, gently sucking on the soft skin, peppering kisses along your collarbones before he reaches your chest. He easily unclasps your bra and slips the straps down your arms before getting rid of the barrier that’s been keeping him away from your naked chest.

“Fuck, Y/N, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathes out shakily, before his lips wrap around your right nipple, his hand cupping your other breast. You keep whining and whimpering as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple before his mouth moves over to the other breast, giving it just the same amount of attention.

He kisses down your stomach, glancing up at you as he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties silently asking for your permission to go further, still so respectfully looking out for you. As an answer, you lift your hips up so he can easily slide the material down your legs and throw it to the side.

“Oh fuck!” you moan when his tongue and lips press against your bud, playing with it oh so perfectly, making you shudder. If you didn’t think Harry was perfect, his tongue work is now surely making a statement on that.

With every lick, kiss and suck he pushes you closer to your release that’s nearing in a fast pace like never before. Reaching down you lace your fingers through his chocolate curls, tugging on the lightly, making him moan against your core. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, but you want to cum with him inside you, so you pull him up, lips meeting again as you still taste your own juice on him. It’s heavenly.

Without breaking the kiss you reach down and into his underwear, palming his fully hard cock, earning a satisfied growl when you wrap your hand around him. The feeling is quite unknown, you’ve only once had to face a penis before, it happened back in high school when you were still figuring out what sexuality meant to you. Gave a wobbly and quite short handjob to a guy from the grade above you, never even talked to him again. The experience left a major effect on you, never even got close to being intimate with a man, but being with Harry now is putting everything into a whole new light.

“Do you have a condom?” he mumbles against your lips, clearly just as excited to carry on as you are.

“Yeah,” you nod and let go of him, rolling to the edge of the bed so you can dig into the drawer of your nightstand, successfully finding the little silver packet. Tearing it open you hand it over to Harry and get back to your previous position as you watch him kneeling up, rolling the condom on carefully. Your lips part when your eyes fall on his cock, seeing now how big he really is. Harry catches your eyes and leaning down he kisses you softly.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay?” he kindly tells you, but you smile at him coyly.

“You might be the first man I’m with, but your dick won’t be the first thing to be inside me,” you answer with a smug smirk and it brings an amused look to his face.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours in a hard kiss as he settles himself back between your legs.

Though you really tried to sound confident the other moment, you still feel a little nervous about it and Harry senses it right away. Holding himself up on one arm he cups your face in his other, kissing you slowly, taking his time with his lips, as if he is trying to make you forget about everything else but his lips.

“Are you still sure about this?” he softly asks, looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes, but there’s none.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you,” you nod and reaching down between your bodies, you take him in your hands again, positioning him to your center.

Harry captures your lips in another passionate kiss as he pushes into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, feeling a little tight around him, but not in an uncomfortable way.

“You alright?” he asks once he is almost fully in.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you breathe out with a small nod. He pecks your lips and slowly pushes all the way in before he starts to move out and then slide in again, picking up a not too fast but still firm pace with his movements.

You gradually get used to the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, it’s surely a whole different experience than using a dildo or any kind of toy you are used to. The thought that it belongs to him is bringing you a sense of intimacy you haven’t felt in a long time.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you dig your fingers into his hot skin that’s coated with a thin layer of sweat as he keeps moving, slowly picking up his pace as you both get closer to the endgame.

“Harry, faster, please!” you plead, legs coming to wrap around his waist so he can thrust in deeper, making you go completely nuts from the way your orgasm is already forming in the pit of your tummy.

He obeys without a second thought, slamming into you faster and harder, making you continuously moan his name, the room is filled with moans and panting, the slapping noise of his hips meeting yours.

Harry buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin, definitely leaving a mark, but you couldn’t care less. You just grab a handful of his hair, shutting your eyes closed as you feel yourself nearing the end.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, barely hanging on.

Instead of stretching it out and trying to play with you, Harry clearly wants you to combust. Reaching down between your bodies his index and middle fingers find your clit and he starts circling on it, adding that little extra you needed to fall over the edge.

Moaning and whimpering under his massive body, your orgasm washes over you in waves, bringing you such an intense satisfaction you’ve never felt before. He keeps up his thrusting and just a few moments later his movements fall out of his rhythm and mumbling your name over and over again, he gasps as he rides his high while you’re still trying to catch your breath following your own.

With a heaving chest Harry rolls off of you, gets rid of the condom and throws it to the small bin you keep next to your night stand and then lies flat beside you as you both just silently stare up at the ceiling, very much in the best kind of after sex haze.

“How are you feeling?” he then asks, rolling to his side, his hand coming to rest on your bare stomach. Turning your head to the side you crack a smile at him.

“I feel like I’ve just been properly fucked,” you bluntly answer, making him laugh wholeheartedly. Rolling to your side his arm falls to your waist as you scoot closer, your face only a few inches from his. He is so pretty up close, his features never fail to amuse you, hard to believe he is a real human, lying right next to you.

He closes his eyes a little, letting his head sink into the pillow as his fingers delicately dance up and down your side and back. You feel like you owe him to say something, dropping a major detail about yourself in a heated moment.

“I had two girlfriends,” you speak up, his eyes fluttering open to your words. “The first one was when I was eighteen, we dated for almost a year, then I briefly dated a guy, but it was barely just a month. And I had my second girlfriend when I was twenty. We were together for two years.”

“Are you still friends with them?”

“I still talk to the second one. Her name is Mila. We broke up because she moved to Spain for a job for a year and we didn’t want to do long-distance. Then we just… grew apart, but we still talk sometimes. She lives in Atlanta now, she has a girlfriend and she told me that she is planning to propose soon.”

A soft smile tugs on your lips as you talk about her. She was an important person in your life in a time that was truly challenging. Mila supported your dreams, she went to a lot of your concerts and she was the first one you called when you got your record deal even though you weren’t together anymore. She has seen you go from performing in dodgy bars to rocking the stage of arenas.

“Congrats to her,” Harry smiles through tired eyes. Reaching up he tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning closer he envelopes your lips in a soft kiss.

“We really shouldn’t have done this,” you hum, though you can’t wipe the satisfied smile off your lips.

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

“So what? We aren’t allowed to like each other?” he smirks cockily.

“You like me?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear,” he chuckles rubbing his eyes. “But yeah, I do like you, Y/N. A lot.”

“I… like you too,” you admit shyly. Leaning in he kisses you again before pulling you to his chest as he lies on his back.

“Can I stay the night or you want to throw me out?” he hums closing his eyes. Chuckling your snuggle to him, making yourself comfortable, enjoying the warmth of his body after so spending so many nights alone in this bed.

“You can stay, but you have to behave.”

“Oh I will behave my best, don’t worry.” A chuckle rumbles through his chest as you both fall silent and soon enough, drift off to sleep.

You wake up tangled in the sheets, but no one else is lying in bed with you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you look around and though there’s no sign of Harry in the room you spot his clothes on the floor. That’s when you hear the pots and pans clinking somewhere outside and you smile to yourself. You pull a t-shirt on with a pair of clean panties before heading out, finding Harry in your kitchen, wearing your pink fluffy robe and nothing else as he is making what seems to be pancakes.

“I don’t remember hiring a chef,” you joke walking closer, sliding a hand down his back as you lean against the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I really wanted for you to wake up but I was afraid my growling stomach might wake you up,” he chuckles as he flips the pancakes in the pan with the spatula.

“Found everything you needed?” you ask, walking over the fridge to grab the orange juice.

“Yeah, you have a neatly organized kitchen,” he hums. “Sorry for snooping around though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pouring the juice to two glasses you hand one to him which he thanks softly before placing the golden pancakes to the plate on the counter and pours another bunch into the pan.

Sipping on your juice you watch him move around, making breakfast in your robe and you can’t help but smile at the sight of this fine man in your kitchen. Harry catches you eyeing him and he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, his voice still a little groggy and husky.

“I just… really want to kiss you,” you shrug placing the glass to the counter.

“I think we are over this whole asking for permission thing,” he smirks, stepping closer he leans down and kisses you gently, tasting like orange juice and something sweet, he has probably ate one of the pancakes. His hand that’s not holding the spatula finds your waist, the t-shirt bunches up on your side as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss before you hear sizzling coming from the stove.

“Whoops, not trying to burn the place down,” he chuckles as he turns to the pan and flips the pancakes. You wrap your arms around his waist and kiss his jawline before stepping away from him to set the table for breakfast.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” he asks over breakfast.

“I have a meeting with my label on Saturday, but nothing else.”

“I’m having a few friends over Saturday evening, kind of a late Grammy nomination celebration. Want to come over?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good,” you nod smiling.

“I was thinking that maybe you could spend the night and then we can finish recording on Sunday.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

Harry takes a quick shower after breakfast before heading out, promising to call you later and though it still feels a little odd that he says goodbye with a kiss, you very much like this new setup between the two of you.

Friday evening Taylor is over at your place, she loves helping you sort out promo stuff you get sent all the time, especially because you let her take whatever you don’t want, half her closet was meant to be worn by you.

Sitting on the floor with boxes surrounding the both of you, you’re digging through them with a bottle of wine, some 90’s music playing in the background, it’s a nice and relaxing evening.

Your phone lights up with a text on the coffee table and you already know it’s from Harry. You haven’t stopped texting since he left from your place just a few days ago.

Harry: Do you think it’s a look for the Grammy’s?

He attached a photo of himself in all denim, looking very much like 2001 Justin Timberlake at the AMA.

Y/N: Should I match and pull a Britney?

Harry: Is that even a question?!

“Okay, who’s the girl?” Taylor asks, making you tear your eyes away from the phone’s screen.

“Huh?”

“Last time I saw you smiling like this at your phone you were talking to that girl you met at that award show. So who is it this time?”

“It’s… not a girl,” you admit, placing your phone back to the coffee table.

“Oh, did a guy finally manage to sweep you off your feet?” Taylor gives you an amused look, genuinely surprised to hear that this time it’s a guy that has you wrapped around his finger. “What is his name?”

“Harry,” you shortly answer and see her eyes widen.

“Wait, is it… Harry as in Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Oh my God, I knew I could feel some sexual tension between you two at Jeff’s office!”

“There wasn’t any, what are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see it because you were too busy trying to blow off the duet, but it was radiating from him.” She gives you a look, putting the sweater she’s been examining to the side. “So, how are things? Are you guys an item, or…?”

“We didn’t label anything, he just said he likes me and I like him too. And he… spent the night the other day.”

“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“

“Yes, we had sex,” you confirm blushing.

“That’s like huge! The first man you’ve been with!”

“I know,” you chuckle.

“How was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you truthfully admit with a sigh. “I didn’t think it could be this good with a guy. Maybe it’s just because it was with him.”

“He surely looks like a guy that takes good care of his girl. So what’s gonna happen? Are you guys together?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to care about names and labels, he just likes to do whatever he wants and if I’m being honest it’s kind of refreshing. We are just… enjoying whatever we have.”

“That sounds very liberal,” Taylor chuckles. “But I’m happy for you. You’ve been alone for way too long, I think he might do good to you.”

“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.

“How is the song writing going?”

“We’re finishing up recording on Sunday. I’ll send it to you when it’s done and we can start all the paperwork and everything.”

“Amazing, you are doing great, Y/N, I’m proud of you,” she smiles and climbing over she wraps you in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Tay,” you smile at her. “Alright, now do you want these lace socks or should I burn them?” you ask holding up a whole pack of them, making her laugh.

Harry said it’s just a chill get together, nothing fancy so you decide to wear a khaki maxi skirt with a shirt tucked into it that was a gift from a fan, your first album’s name embroidered to the front. It’s one of your favorite pieces and you like wearing things your fans make you, gives the whole fit a plus.

Arriving to Harry’s place you spot that there are a few cars already parking on the driveway. You leave your overnight bag in the trunk, grab the bottle of wine you’ve brought and head inside. Unlike every time you’ve been here, the silence is now switched up with soft music and chatters, quite a few people lingering around the house already.

Just as you walk farther inside, Harry appears on the stairs and his face lights up at the sight of you.

“Hey! Did you just arrive?” He jogs down the rest of the stairs and walking up to you he pulls you close for a quick kiss without hesitation.

“Yeah. I know you said not to bring anything, but I hate coming to parties empty handed,” you chuckle softly, holding the wine bottle up.

“Thanks. Have you eaten? Jeff is grilling outside, but help yourself with anything.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“Sarah and Mitch are already here, but come on, let me introduce you to a few people.”

Harry takes your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. He drops the wine off in the kitchen before joining all the other guests. It’s really not that many people, just about thirty of his close circle. Musicians, people he has worked with and stayed close with, people he has known for long. Everyone seems welcoming and open, many already know who you are and it’s always a good conversation start, so there are not many awkward silences, especially because Harry is always near you, making sure you feel comfortable around his friends and it means a lot to you.

“Hey, everything alright?” Harry asks, when he finds you in the kitchen, refilling your glass. He walks up to you, placing a hand to your waist as he kisses into your hair.

“Yeah, your friends are nice,” you smile at him.

“I know, that’s why they are my friends,” he smirks, so full of himself. “Want to hear something interesting?”

“Always.”

“I was talking to Adam and our song came up and then out of nowhere I referred to you as my girlfriend.”

Seemingly he is testing the waters, trying to see how you react to the title, even a little afraid of what you might say, but it doesn’t scare you.

“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”

“Are you okay with it? I wasn’t really thinking about it, just slipped out.”

“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.

“You don’t have to call me your boyfriend, call me whatever you want. It’s just a habit of mine, I guess,” he explains, popping some nuts into his mouth from the little jar on the counter.

“Alright,” you nod. Harry stares back at you for a moment before a smile stretches across his face and leaning down he kisses you shortly before taking your hand and walking back to the living room with you.

The last guests leave around midnight. After bringing your bag up to his bedroom you start cleaning up while Harry walks out the last couple leaving. You start loading the washer and put away things you’ve cleaned before.

“Oh, thank you for cleaning, but you don’t have to. I can take care of it later.”

“It’s nothing, I want to make myself useful,” you chuckle softly as you start the washer. Harry comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses into your neck.

“I have other ideas for that,” he murmurs, his nose nudging the side of your face.

“Yeah? What kind of ideas?” you teasingly ask, closing your eyes when you feel his hand slide under the waist of your skirt, moving down your abdomen until it reaches your core.

“Fun kinds,” he chuckles lowly. His other hand turns your head so his lips could meet yours, you’re still pressed up against him, melting against his chest with your back just right, like you’re two puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when his fingers wander into your underwear and they start doing their magic. “Harry!” you whine, reacting intensely to his actions.

“I fucking love hearing my name from your pretty mouth,” he growls, kissing you hard before his lips part from yours and he starts bunching up your skirt.

You don’t protest, in fact, you lean forward, grabbing onto the edge of the counter as he pulls down your panties and you hear the zipper of his pants. Glancing over your shoulders you see him pull out a condom from his pocket and you can’t push down a laughter.

“Did you keep that in your pocket all evening?”

“Wanted to be ready when I finally got you all for myself,” he smirks, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs, rolling on the condom.

His hands come in contact with your hips and ass cheeks, giving them a light squeeze before you feel him lining himself up with you. His palm slides up your back as he pushes into you, both of you moaning at the fulfilling sensation.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathes out as he pushes all the way inside before starting to pull out.

“Go hard, Harry. Please!” you whimper as he starts thrusting into you. Harry lets out a growl and slams into you, making you gasp at the harshness of the movement, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

The kitchen is filled with the noises coming from the washer next to you and the slapping noise of Harry’s hips meeting your ass with every forceful thrust he makes. His ring clad fingers dig into your hips, probably already making them red, but you couldn’t care less. You hold onto the edge of the counter, but then you move one hand to cover his on you, needing to touch him in some kind of way.

Leaning forward Harry kisses your back between your shoulder blades through the thin material of your shirt and you moan his name when he hits the perfect spot inside you.

“Shit, Harry! I’m g-gonna cum!” you gasp, perking your ass up more so he can go as deep as possible.

“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”

“I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah? Then hold on for a little longer, I’m almost there.”

You try your best to keep everything inside you under control, your orgasm is really on the edge and you can only hope he is nearing his end too.

“Harry! Please!”

“Fuck, okay, okay, cum for me! Let me feel you!” he moans and his words bring you the release.

You clench around him, moaning and whimpering and it finally pushes you into his bliss too. His thrusts slow down but they are hard and go deep, helping you ride the last bits of your high.

He pulls out and gets rid of the condom before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you up from your position so he can kiss your lips.

“How about we take a shower while the washer finishes?” he suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Mm, good idea.”

Once the song is fully finished you submit it to your label after an agreement that it should come out through yours, but it wouldn’t be tied to your or Harry’s upcoming album. Everyone seems to love it, Taylor is over the moon when you show her the final version and Jeff is just as happy about it. Having only three more weeks left until the Grammy’s, you send them your request to perform the duet instead of the medley they asked. Their answer comes the next day and they are more than happy to have you premiere your new duet at the show. Everything seems to be on track.

Following a rehearsal for the Grammy performance, you’re staying over at Harry’s, just eating takeout and having a lazy evening after a whole day of working. You’ve put on a new Netflix movie, but every time you look at Harry you feel like his mind is somewhere far away.

“Want to share what’s on your mind?” you ask softly, not wanting to be pushy, you’re just trying to be there for him.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” He looks up at you, clearly hesitant whether he should share it with you or not.

“About what you said about your parents.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. Pausing the movie you turn all your attention to him. “What about it?”

“I was just talking to my mom the other day, she is coming here for the Grammy’s and I thought about how you… won’t have your parents there with you.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, but then I thought about how you said you haven’t even let them contact you since then and that maybe they’ve changed their mind about the whole situation. You’ve clearly proved them wrong with building yourself a career, maybe they can now see that what they did was wrong.”

You remain silent, chewing on his words. You’ve been great at not thinking about your parents these past years, it feels weird to have a conversation about them out of nowhere. Harry takes your silence as a warning sign, though that’s not the case.

“You know what? I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s not really my business, I shouldn’t have brought it up, sorry,” he shakes his head.

“What… would you do if you were in my place?”

Harry looks at you, surprised you are willing to continue the conversation. His hand finds your thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I think it might worth a shot to just… contact them. See if they want to maybe get in touch again.”

“And what if they don’t?”

“Then… you know you made the right decision leaving. I know it’s scary, but I think you should take a chance.”

“I’ll… think about it,” you nod shortly.

“Take your time, do whatever you feel comfortable with.” He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you get comfortable in his embrace before starting the movie again.

Two weeks before the show you are headed to a fitting with Harry, your matching sets are nearly done, but they needed you to try them on and make sure they fit just perfectly. True to your and Harry’s extravagant fashion, this performance won’t lack any over the top fits either. It was clear from the beginning that you would be matching, but you made it clear that you want to bring it to the level where you’d be wearing the exact same outfit, so now there are two sets of suits in the making, the pattern of the whole two piece is recalling a kind of space vibe, blues, purples and black meeting in the colors with hundreds of embroidered stars and planets littering the fabric with additional crystal stars to make it even more extra. It’s truly one of a kind, especially paired with the sheer, tulle shirt you both will be wearing underneath.

“We look fucking great, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you stand next to each other, examining yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the small podium.

“We really do,” you smirk, satisfied with how the performance is coming together. It’s gonna be the perfect way to celebrate both your first Grammy nominations, a huge milestone in your and Harry’s career as well.

Grabbing his phone he quickly takes a picture in the mirror of the two of you, pulling you to his side as you smile into the camera through the mirror. Then you leave him alone on the podium as they are pinning his pants to make it the perfect size. Stepping to your bag you fish your phone out and reading just the first few words of Taylor’s last message she sent about ten minutes ago, you feel all blood rushing out of your face. Tapping on the notification you start reading.

Taylor: Please don’t lose your head, but we are dealing with this.

She attached several articles and you start digging through them.

“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”

“Harry Styles cozied up with Y/N Y/L/N at dinner with friends.”

“Can we expect some hot make out sessions at the Grammy’s from Harry and his new beau?”

And then there’s the absolute worst.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N going to take Harry Styles to court too?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble under your breath, vigorously typing back to Taylor to take them down. Two pictures have been leaked from the time you had dinner with Sarah and Mitch, it’s so odd because it’s been weeks since then, where were these pictures all along? Not that it matters, all you want is for them to be gone.

Against your better judgment, you go online and check your social media even though you know you shouldn’t snoop around now that it’s out there. No surprise, you and Harry are trending, but the reactions are very much mixed.

The impact of your case with Jordan is still major. It doesn’t matter that you won, people are still questioning whether he said the truth or not and now they are afraid you might drag Harry down just like you did with Jordan. That you are just trying to use his fame to get more attention and then ruin his career, making a victim out of yourself again, because apparently that’s what you’ve been doing.

You’re not only being dragged, but all of a sudden, nothing is about the music and the art you are making, people just want to know if you’re fucking Harry Styles or not. A lot of the times you’re not even named, only referred to Harry’s new lover or what’s worse, his hookup. You’ve lost all the credit you worked so hard for and for what? Because you dared to have dinner with a man?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry asks walking up to you. Your eyes snap up at him and he immediately sees the shock and anger in them, setting panic in him as well. “What is it?”

“The fucking… pictures,” you hiss handing him your phone so he can see the articles for himself. He scrolls through them with furrowed eyebrows, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before handing the phone back once he has gotten to the end of it.

“Let’s finish this up and head home, okay? We’ll figure it all out.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you nod, trying your best to keep your anger at bay while the designers finish up on the outfits.

An hour later you walk into your place, talking on the phone with Taylor, discussing the situation though there’s not much you can do at this point. It’s all out, the pictures can’t be taken down. She suggests to just keep quiet for now, she’ll call Jeff to see what could be done as damage control.

Throwing your phone to the bed you feel your whole body shaking from the anger, it’s agonizing to know there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll figure it out,” Harry speaks up, trying his best to calm you down, but it’s not really working this time.

“Stop saying it, you don’t know that for sure. I can’t believe this bullshit is happening all over again,” you breathe out shaking your head.

“Again?”

“Yes! I’m being fucking dragged for something I shouldn’t be.”

“People will always have controversial opinion on everything, you can’t get them all to like you.”

“It’s not about liking, Harry!” you snap. “I couldn’t give a damn about people liking me, but they discredit my work. Have you read those articles? I’m seen with a man and suddenly, I’m not even seen as an artist anymore. I’m not even my own person in some of them, just a girl who is linked to you. How is that fair?” “It’s not, but stressing yourself about it until you’re sick is not gonna help anything,” he retorts in a firm voice.

“So I should just sit around and so nothing while watching all my work go to shit?”

“Nothing is going to shit! This is how it goes, there’s always something people talk about but they will forget about it in a week. That doesn’t take anything away from what you’ve proved through your career.”

“Now that’s a lie. Because if they did forget about things in a week, they wouldn’t be bringing up the whole Jordan thing now. I dared to stand up for myself against a man and look where it took me to! I’m the drama queen, the lying bitch who likes to ruin men for apparently no reason and they see me as a threat when it comes to you too. People are talking about how I’ll take you to court as well, they think I’m just using you even though they know nothing about me! And the worst part is that it wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a woman. Whatever happens, however we react to the situation, it will never have the same effect on your career than it will have on mine.”

“So what, you’ll just live your life without ever doing anything that’s gonna upset people? There will always be someone who’ll judge whatever you do, you can’t do anything about that and if you let them get to you now, they’ll know they can mess with you easily.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore everything? And not do a single thing about it? It’s easy for you, you’ll walk away from this without a scratch on your name, because you are a white man who can do no wrong in the eyes of the world.”

“Okay, now you are being mean for no reason.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you retort. “And you know what else is part of the truth? That I’m not even having it the worse. There are women who are even more targeted because of their religion, their skin color, their nationality or sexuality and people don’t even realize how hard it is for any of us. I’m sick of the injustice we have to live with just because of our gender!”

“I do acknowledge the problem on hand, I’m aware of it and I’m all for doing against it, but we are not gonna solve it instantly, it’s a long process. Sometimes we just have to pull back a little, be smart about things.”

“They will never stop about this,” you shake your head, stubbornly clinging onto your opinion. “I won’t be seen as a serious artist anymore, just some girl who was linked to you. It’s fucking done, over.”

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” Harry asks with caution.

“Exactly what you are thinking about,” you reply with a bitter laugh. “I can’t be a respected artist if I’m with you.”

“That’s not true. It will die down, they will see that you are more than just who you’re dating and everything will be fine.”

“What’s not fair is that I have to work for it to be fine while you are still the same artist you were before it all blew up. Don’t you think it’s unfair?” you call him out and part of you knows you’re being mean and unnecessarily rude to him, but you just can’t control it any longer. You need to let it out and unfortunately, he is the one who is here to take the blame.

“It is, but what are you expecting me to do about it? Release a statement asking people to only talk about my dating life to make it equal? What can be done is that we try to fight this together, show them that you’re more than just a woman who is linked to a man in any kind of way.”

“Yeah, like realization is just gonna hit them,” you snap. “I’m at a turning point in my career, Harry. Whether I win a Grammy or not, this time is going to have an impact on my future. If I’m seen as just a girl linked to you, I’ll never make it. I’ll be forgotten and dragged again and I can kiss my career goodbye.”

You know you were way too harsh, but it’s what you think to be the truth. You didn’t fight your way to this point in life just to be seen as a man’s girlfriend rather than the artist you truly are. And right now, you can’t see yourself get out of this situation without letting go of Harry.

“Y/N, please don’t let this ruin what we have. We can get through this, you can’t let them control your life this much. Who are they to tell you what to do? That’s not the Y/N I know, come on!”

He tries to step closer, reaching out for you, but you take a step back, wanting to keep the distance between the two of you.

“I would prefer to be alone now,” you sternly say, folding your arms on your chest, closing yourself off from him as you don’t even look at him, because if you did, you know you would break.

“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“

“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.

He stares at you, hoping you might change your mind, but you’re quite set on this. He knows you well enough to know you won’t budge anytime soon. He lets out a shaky breath and slowly turning around, he heads towards the door as you’re already fighting your tears back. He stops right before he is about to walk out.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he quietly says before walking out, the door shutting closed behind him.

The sobs start immediately and you fall to the ground, tears soaking your cheeks, already missing him more than anything in your life. You really thought it would be different this time, that things might get better, but you were naïve.

The next two days go by in a blur. The whole fucking internet is filled with those damn pictures of you and Harry, nothing has been about any of your Grammy nominations or even about your music, you’ve officially became the woman Harry Styles is dating.

Harry was titled as a Grammy nominee in every goddamn writing that surfaced, he was completely credited for his work while you could be happy if your name was written correctly. With every new article, your faith in having the career you worked so hard for lessened until you felt hopeless. You’ve officially became a dumb celebrity, just a woman who was known to be dating a man in the industry.

On the evening of the second day you have enough. You just read yet another degrading piece of you that was clearly written by a man, they once again talked about your case with Jordan, joking about history repeating itself and you swear you could scream and throw a tantrum like a baby at how useless and helpless you feel.

You put your laptop to the side and reach for your phone, dialing Taylor’s number.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asks right away, knowing well how hard these past days have been. She came over the evening you sent Harry away and tried to comfort you, but nothing could help you that night.

“Hey, I want to ask you to do something and not try to talk me out of it.”

“Oh God…” she sighs, already knowing you’re about to do something stupid according to her.

“I don’t want to perform at the Grammy’s.”

“What? With all due respect, are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m not stupid. But I don’t want to do it.”

“Well, this has got to be the most ridiculous move you’ve ever tried to pull. Why do you want to throw such a huge thing away?”

“I can’t… sing that song with Harry. If I stand on the stage and sing with him… I just can’t do it, Tay.”

“Of course you can! Suck it up! I know you miss him and it fucking sucks what’s happening, but you have to do it!” she tries to convince you, but you’ve already made your mind up.

“No. I’m not doing it. Please let them know that it’s going to be just Harry performing.”

And with that, you end the call.

Taylor knows better than to try to fight you, she doesn’t call back though you know she wants to murder you right now probably, but she’ll come around, she always does. You make yourself a tea hoping to relax your nerves with it though you know nothing can help you now. You wish you had someone to rely on, someone you could talk to right now, but usually Taylor is that person to you and lately Harry has been your support, but you can’t call either of them. The rest of the people you consider friends… they are just not that close to you. You’re left alone, again.

As your gaze wanders over to your phone, a thought pops up in your mind that makes your hands sweat. You think back to the conversation you had with Harry about your parents and you can’t shake the urge off to finally make that call.

“Fuck it,” you breathe out and grab the device, opening up the contacts until you find what you’ve been looking for. Your thumb hovers above the call button for a while before you finally tap on it and start the call. It rings four times before a voice speaks up on the other end.

“Halo?”

“Hi mom,” you reply and hear a gasp from her at your voice.

There’s less than a week left until the Grammy’s. For your own sake, you haven’t been online outside of answering work emails, you just can’t deal with the shit show your life has become on the internet.

You haven’t left your home unless you really needed to go somewhere, did most of your meetings over the phone or videochat and postponed a fitting as well. You’ve officially caved yourself up in your apartment and you are not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Taylor keys herself in, she hasn’t even mentioned that she might drop by, but you’re not surprised. She is probably here to try to bring you out of this pity party you’ve been holding for days. When she sees you lying on the couch in sweats and messy, unwashed hair, she sighs, shaking her head.

“You really need to pull your shit together, Y/N.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your fuzzy blanket up to your chin.

“No, you’re not. This is not the bad bitch I know.”

“Bad bitches have bad days too.”

“This is not a bad day, you look like a fucking zombie. This is not what a Grammy nominee should look like days before the big show.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m performing or anything,” you shrug, but the look in Taylor’s eyes make yours go wide. “Taylor, I’m not performing, you informed them about it, right?”

“This is why I’m here,” she sighs walking closer, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I never cancelled on your performance.”

“I told you I’m not doing it!” “I know, but I was hoping you might come around. But you seem to be still acting like a stupid bitch, so that didn’t happen. However, I’ve gotten an interesting email today.”

She pulls out her phone and opens the email before handing it over to you. Shooting her an unhappy look you start reading.

-

Hi Taylor!

I got your email address from Jeff, wanted to write to you myself. I’ve officially pulled out of the Grammy performance so it’s going to be only Y/N in it. We are also working on a statement to release over the whole ordeal and my lawyers have been after the bigger gossip sites to get the articles down. I want Y/N to have the Grammy experience she deserves and I know it can’t happen with me in the performance. Tell her that I’m sorry for ruining it for her, she deserves so much more. I’m sorry she was brought into this.

I hope to see you soon, take care!

Harry

-

With parted lips, you look up at Taylor who is smiling softly at you.

“He… pulled out for me.”

“He did. Talked to Jeff on the phone, they have already let them know Harry wouldn’t be performing, they will make it official tomorrow.”

“But he deserves this just as much as I do. He is a nominee too.”

“Well, seems like he values you more than his own success.” Taylor lets out a long sigh and scooting closer she places a hand to your knee. “Look, I know you’re upset about how the media treats you just because you were seen out with Harry, and I know that you’re afraid of getting labeled as just the girl he dates and not get taken seriously as an artist, but you can’t let them stop you from living your life how you want to. There will always be judgment, there will always be men who are worse than trash and want to bring you down, but you are stronger than that. Pushing Harry away and being alone for the rest of your life is not a solution. What you can do to put them to their place is give them a big fuck you, date the hottest man in the industry and continue being the bad bitch that you are, fighting against the way you are being treated. Speak up, show them who they are dealing with, share your truth, like you always do! But you can do all of this with Harry by your side. You deserve to be happy and he makes you happy, don’t make yourself miserable because we live in a world where men are still placed above women. Fight for the change but don’t forget to think about yourself as well in the process.”

You feel the tears sting in your eyes. The weight of this past week is just way too heavy to carry, but Taylor is right and you are realizing that you’ve made it harder for yourself. The sobs come before you could stop yourself and Taylor pulls you into a hug.

“I know, I know. It fucking sucks, but you can’t let them win,” she soothes, running her hands up and down your back. “Show them how big of a bad bitch you are and get the man too.”

“You think Harry still wants to be with me?”

“I think that man would be on his knees for you in a heartbeat if you asked,” she chuckles pulling back. “Statement about the performance will be released tomorrow. That’s how long you have to figure it out,” she tells you with a knowing look before leaving you alone with your thoughts, however you don’t have to think long what you have to do.

You have not been the only one these past days took a toll on. The fight the two of you had left Harry completely drained, angry and helpless. He hated that he was the reason you weren’t credited as the talented artist that you are and he couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make it better. That’s when he came up with the idea of pulling out of the performance.

Now he is ready to spend the remaining days until the award show hidden from the world, not even leaving the house. Everyone close to him knows he is better not to be disturbed now, so he is quite surprised when the security system lets him know that someone has arrived.

As you drive up to his house you spot him immediately, stepping out the front door with a shocked look on his face, probably expecting you to be the last person to be there at the moment. You wipe your sweaty palms against your thighs as you walk up to him, feeling anxious to see him and talk to him, especially after the last conversation you had.

“Hey, I’m sorry for coming here without calling or anything…” you shyly start, stopping in front of you.

“Don’t be silly. Come… Come on in,” he clears his throat inviting you inside.

You’ve walked through this front door so many times in the past almost two months, but this is the first time you feel so odd, standing out, like you have no place in here and it’s all thanks to yourself.

“Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry?” Harry walks past you but then turns to face you, talking to you with such warmth and kindness, even after how you acted, putting blame on him for something he has no control over. It completely breaks you and can’t stop your eyes from watering as you look at him. You really hoped you’ve run out of tears in the past days, but it seems like that’s not the case at all.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” you breathe out shakily and you step closer to each other at the same time, he envelopes you in his strong arms and you fist his shirt at his chest. “I know it was none of your fault, I just got so desperate and afraid that it might ruin what I worked so hard for.”

“I know. And you were right about everything. Everything you said was true and I’m sorry you have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t right to be mad at you just because you have different privileges, it’s not like you can change who you are. So I’m really sorry about that, and also for pushing you away when you were just trying to be there for me. I was so stupid,” you breathe out, wiping the tears sliding your cheeks down away.

“You just panicked, it’s okay. Don’t apologize for wanting to protect yourself.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder you wait for your sobs to die down before you look back up at him. Reaching up he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at you warmly and that smile alone ensures you that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, with the right person.

“Taylor showed me the email you sent her,” you bring it up, clearing your throat.

“You deserve it all to yourself so people can see how amazing of an artist you are.”

“I’m not doing it without you,” you shake your head stubbornly. “We wrote the song together and we’re gonna perform it together or else I’m not doing it either.”

“Y/N, you know if we step on that stage together they are gonna twist the whole thing and make it about something else. I want you to have this opportunity for your career without me ruining it with just my presence.”

“Fuck them, if they take it as something it’s not. They are not gonna take the chance away from us to perform our song. If they are such fucking dumbasses that they make it all about what’s between us, that’s their own personal problem. If I need to, I’ll go on a Twitter rant and tell them this myself. I want you on stage with me or else I’m not doing it either.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, pressing his lips together as he stares back at you, probably realizing you are dead serious about pulling out of the performance and he is right. He doesn’t even know you were the first one to cancel on it, you’d do it again without hesitation.

“I guess we are performing then,” he cracks a small smile and throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down, lips smashing against his, the kiss mingling with giggles and smiles.

Harry wraps his arms tight around your waist, pulling you up from the ground as he spins you around, making you squeal as you hold onto him.

“I have to call Jeff to call the Grammy’s not to post the statement,” he hums against your lips and he pecks them a few more times before letting go of you to quickly make a call to his manager.

You move over to the couch in his living room as he talks to Jeff, who is luckily very understanding about the sudden change. Hugging your knees to your chest you watch him pace the floor, exchanging a few more words with the man on the phone before ending the call, his gaze dropping to you again. Sitting beside you, he kisses your temple, dropping an arm around your shoulders as you lean against him, head resting on his chest.

“I called my mom,” you drop the bomb suddenly and you can feel him tense up for a moment, probably shocked by your words.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head your gaze meets his as you carry on. “She was… very shocked to hear my voice.”

“I bet,” he hums. “What did you talk about?”

“I just… asked how they are doing and told her that I’ve been thinking a lot about them. She sounded genuinely touched by it and said I’m always welcomed for dinner or lunch if I’d like to see them.”

“That’s amazing! See, I told you they would love to hear from you!”

“Yeah,” you smile at him softly. “I think I want to go over sometime after the Grammy’s.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”

“Would you please come with me?”

Your question catches him off-guard he seems surprised that you would want him there, but then his expression softens as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I would love to, if you want me there.”

“I do,” you nod.

“Then it’s settled,” he smiles warmly as you lay your head back to his chest, his fingers gently dancing up and down your arm and for once in your life you finally feel settled, like everything is going to be fine.

Highlights of the 63rd Annual Grammy Awards: Y/N Y/L/N blows up stage with new hit duet

The killer duo surprised us all with a brand new duet titled Floating Through Space, performed it together on their big night. Wearing matching galaxy themed suits, Y/L/N and Styles have closed off the evening with probably the most success, the latter winning two out of his three nominations, receiving the award for Best Music Video and Best Pop Vocal Album with his latest album, Fine Line, while Y/L/N was titled best new artist, becoming a Grammy winner early in her career.

Tabloids blew up earlier this month when the two singers were photographed cozied up at dinner with friends, speculations started about their possible romance, but Y/L/N has made a clear statement on the question with her red carpet appearance before the award show. Wearing a head to toe black Gucci gown paired with a dramatic cape, the message “I’M AN ARTIST, ASK ME ABOUT MY ART” painted onto it in red, making a bold statement about her opinion on the way the media has been treating the star.

Both singers remained silent on their alleged romance, but proved to be the best of their time with their joined performance with their new emotional duet. Following the song’s debut on stage it was released to the public as a single right away, taking over all charts with its overwhelming success.

Listen to Floating Through Space now on Spotify and Apple Music!

Your knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the steering wheel as you stare up at the home you grew up in. It looks almost the same, sometime through the years you haven’t been around your parents have painted it a light blue color from the paste yellow, but it’s still… the same.

“Hey.”

Turning to your right you look at Harry who is smiling at you warmly as his hand reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you, you’re still their daughter.”

“That’s not what they told me the last time I was here,” you whisper, feeling your throat closing up.

“We all say things in the heat of the moment. Seeing how happy they were about this lunch proves that they regret what happened.”

Nodding you take a deep breath to get ready for whatever is going to happen. Leaning over the console you pull Harry in for a kiss and it calms your nerves a little. Getting out of the car he takes your hand and squeezes it to let you know he’ll be right by your side all along. As you walk up to the front porch a sense of strong nostalgia washes over you.

You didn’t have a bad childhood, your parents provided you so much growing up, it’s sad to think what it has become. In a way you feel more anxious than walking the red carpet a week ago for the Grammys even though you’re just meeting your parents, but this is a turning point in your life that needed to come sooner or later.

“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be fine,” Harry murmurs, kissing your forehead before you ring the doorbell, feeling weird that you come here as a guest, not as someone who belongs here.

You hear footsteps approaching on the other side, two frames appear through the clouded glass of the front door and then it flies open, pushing all air out of your lungs, clinging tightly onto Harry’s hand. There’s a moment of silence and just staring at each other before the tiniest smile tugs on your lips.

“Hi mom, hi dad.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[totebagchiqbarista]

Heyy can i request a luka x fem!reader fic? Like you know how how luka is always calm and cool? What if he turns into a living mess after he meets reader? Like no stuttering or something but hes ranting about her to juleka all the time and cant concentrate when shes around??

what are you doing to me? // luka x fem!reader

request: anonymous

warnings: fluff, swearing?, Luka being a mess

pairing: Luka Couffaine x Fem!Reader

a/n: I really wanted to write some Luka stuff and this kind of stretched out to a good amount of words so I hope you like it! :)

"Dear God, Luka, stop talking!" Juleka shouted at her brother who entered her room uninvited for the 4th time today. She had understood he didn't have anybody really to talk to, but Lord was he getting annoying at this point.

"But I have to tell you something"

Pushing him out of her cabin one last time, Juleka stood at the door frame and stared at the blue boy. "Go out and find a life!" Of course, she didn't mean it like that, but before she could manage what she is doing, she slammed the door shut in front of him.

Luka was taken aback by the change in Juleka's attitude. He didn't flinch though. He was always that one collected and calm person in every group. Anger never fulfilled him in the ways it sometimes filled his mother, for example.

Anarka had never been the type to prohibit them of their freedom, but she tends to let her emotions take over her. When somebody mentions their dad, she turns red, wrathful at the memories that flow across her head. And it's never long until she completely lets rage form her.

But Luka was different. He was always the serene boy you would find in the back of the class writing songs, practicing riffs. When somebody took it out on him, Luka sucked it in, forgetting about the scene in a few days. He had never lost his temper, beat someone up, melted at someone's touch...

He didn't mind it, after all, there was nothing to whine about. He had all his emotions under control, and even though he would never admit it- it made him feel superior to others.

So Luka decided to go to the park. Whenever he had nothing to do, a simple solution always came to his mind- a warm walk through the park.

"Hi, Nino" he exclaimed seeing the familiar couple by the water fountain. "Hi, Alya."

Alya offered him a soft smile, taking a piece of Andre's ice cream. Nino lent him his famous handshake. "I'm excited for tonight!" said Alya, referring to the private hangout at Couffaine's that was yet to come.

Luka had completely forgotten about it. How could he do such a thing? Still, he kept his cool exterior, nodding his head in agreement. "Me too"

"Oh shoot! I forgot I was supposed to meet Y/n tonight" Alya looked back on her schedule.

"Who's that?" Luka questioned, having never heard of that name before

"An old friend of mine. She just recently moved here"

"She can come, too."

"Really?" Alya's face lit up in joy "You would do that?"

The blue-haired boy laughed "If there's one place in Paris everybody is welcomed, it for sure is the Couffaine's ship!"

"Great, we'll see you there soon!" Alya added before collecting her phone and her boyfriend, running to meet up with her long-term friend.

Luka was left alone by the fountain, staring faintly at the water drops in the pool. Hot summer day took a toll on him and his eyes closed slightly under the pressure of the beaming sunshine.

A wooden bench called out to him and so he sat underneath the cooling shade of the trees. Moments passed and Luka grew to be more impatient. Guests were to come tonight, maybe he should return and help Juleka set up for the evening hang out...

Just on a mark, a girl ran to the park, out of her breath. She seemed worn out as she breathed heavily from the excessive physical activity. She looked at the phone in her hands, it responding with a typical GPS lady voice.

"Shit" she mumbled as she frantically tried to get the directions from the small machine.

"Hey" Luka called out to her from his sitting position in the corner "Are you lost?"

The girl looked around, making sure the blue boy was talking to her. "Yeah, I guess I could say so." Just as she returned him the look, Luka was struck by her beauty. It seemed like such a cliché, really. And Luka hated clichés. Yet, he was mesmerized by the girl who stood before him.

"Right... Where do you need to go?" He asked, collecting himself by her feet.

"Uh," she let out an unknowing hum "Here"

The picture she showed was blurry but Luka figured the place. It was a place he liked to visit sometimes, too. He showed her the directions, making sure she knows all the tracks.

"Thank you so much" The girl beamed with happiness in her eyes "Thank you for helping me"

Luka nodded, and the girl turned around to leave in the direction he just showed her. Luka contemplated for a second before asking a question just as she was about to leave "Can I know your name, at least?"

Hope in his eyes, he stared at her for a full moment until she broke the silence. "We only just met. Besides, where's the fun in that?" Sending him one last wink goodbye, she disappeared into the streets of Paris.

Juleka wasn't a person one could easily talk to. Except for Luka. Luka knew his sister was quite an introvert and a rather shy soul. He respected it and grew to watch over her, protecting her privacy with others. But with him, she was sometimes an extremely cheerful and bubbly person. Hell, there were moments he wished she could stop talking!

So when the two of them collaborated in decorating the harbor for their friends, they finished rather quickly. In under 2 hours, the duo managed to make the best party ship anyone has ever seen.

"Alya is bringing a friend," Luka said as he and Juleka tried to put the last fairy lights around.

"Really? Who?"

"An old friend who just moved here. Y/n as I recall."

Juleka nodded, trying to remember the name "Oh yes, Y/n. Alya told us about her. I'm glad to finally meet her."

Soon enough, the guests started to gather and their home was erupting from chit chats and music. Luka talked to everybody, getting lost in the crowd. His mind always found its way back to the silhouette of the lost girl from the park. There was something he couldn't get enough of in her...

"Luka, could you play us something?" asked Marinette to what Luka only nodded, heading to his room for the guitar.

"Alya is here!" Rose exclaimed when she noticed her friend at the entrance. Next to her stood a girl, a girl Alya has told them almost everything about.

"Hi, guys! This is Y/n" everybody welcomed them, all eyes prying on the newbie.

Marinette came closer and hugged her "I'm Marinette" she addressed as she offered her a soft smile "I've heard so much about you!"

"I could say the same" Y/n returned the sweet gesture.

"What took you so long?" Nino asked looking at his watch and then back at them.

"My bad. I got kind of lost."

The moment Luka stepped on the ship, the last thing he expects to see was the girl he couldn't stop thinking about. The girl that has been playing in his head all day, since the moment they met. Well, not exactly met.

"You" he blurted without thinking as he set his guitar down.

The pair of orbs he remembered from this morning, looked up at him, as surprised as him. "You" she joked back, not breaking the eye contact.

"You two know each other?" Marinette asked looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Not really. He helped me find the way this morning" Y/n explained

"And she didn't even tell me her name"

"It's more fun this way, don't you think?"

Luka chuckled offering her a handshake. "I'm Luka"

"Y/n"

The night moved slowly and Luka found himself growing more and more nervous whenever Y/n was around. This can't be! He's always the calm one, the collected one, the untouchable one. No, no. It's just a mire admiration. Nothing much, really. He's as steady as ever...

"Spin the bottle!" Alya shouted out of nowhere

Numbers of confused faces turned to her in a moment. She proceeded, explaining her outburst. "Let's play spin the bottle"

The teens looked around, meeting with other's sights, nodding in agreement. Soon enough, the group was sat on the floor. Upon choosing a seat, Luka looked around. There were 2 left: beside Y/n and opposite of her. He wanted to sit beside her, really. Oh, just how he wanted to sit beside her, their knees touching... But he was so nervous. His palms sweat just for the thought and his heart raced with a speed unknown to man.

So he sat opposite of her.

"Right, so, we are playing spin the bottle combined with truth and dare. A person spins the bottle and they ask "truth or dare?" the one who the bottle has sat on." Alya explained.

Marinette went first, the bottle landing on Y/n. The bluenette smiled softly and asking the question. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth"

"Are you happy to be in Paris?"

"Very!" The two exchanged graceful smiles earning a groan from Nino.

"Where are the fun questions! C'mon dudettes!" he cried obviously disappointed in his friends.

Marinette looked at him in confusion "What do you want me to ask?"

"I don' know, something interesting. Like, describe your perfect type, or something"

Y/n laughed for a second. "Well I don't really have a type but guitarists hold a special place in my heart"

Luka looked at her in surprise but wasn't met with her gaze. That was it. He'll lose his mind because of this girl and there's no turning back. He'll be defeated, if only he wasn't already.

Y/n grew to be a great addition to the class and the friend group. And she grew closer to Luka's heart, more close than he liked to admit. When she was around, his mind was rollercoasters, when she was away her melody played in the back of his head. It was exhausting, really. Luka had never acted this way, especially not for a girl. It was all new to him.

It had been almost two months since Y/n's first day in the city of love. Never had she imagined that she would fall so in love with the people, the culture, the capital of France in general. She was standing on her balcony, looking at the most beautiful sightseeing- the Eiffel tower.

"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving, see you later!" she shouted as she closed the front door behind her. Juelka had invited her to help her out with band stuff. She was a bit surprised to say at least for Y/n wasn't much of an intellectual in that field.

The traffic was light and soon enough she stepped foot on the magnificent ship. The boy she already knew very well was strumming his guitar in the corner.

"Nice tune" she whispered, coming behind him

Luka jumped a little, taken aback by her unexpected figure. "Y/n? Why-"

"I invited her, I need some help," said Juleka from the door. "I'll be back in a second" and with that, she disappeared.

Y/n sat on a chair beside him, feeling the tension rise. Luka's melody became more insecure, more unsteady. It felt as if he was trying too hard.

"What happened?"

"I don't know" Luka answered, regretting holding the guitar now. It was true, when she was around, it was not much he could do. His mind always wandered elsewhere.

An uncomfortable silence took over them. Juleka was nowhere in sight. After some minutes of complete dull, Y/n stood up eager to leave. "Tell Juleka I'm sorry, but I just remembered I have to go."

Luka wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was afraid of blurting out something way more stupid. So he nodded, regretting his decisions. What has she done to him? He can't even think straight, what to do, what not to do. He's a mess and it's all because of her.

"What are you doing you, idiot, go after her!" Juleka stormed out of the ship, scolding her older brother.

"What?"

"Go after her! Tell her how you feel! God!"

"What are you talking about?" Luka played it off dumb

Juleka's anger only grew "Oh please, mister untouchable, you're not so secretive about it. You can never concentrate when she's around, when I mention her, you grow all impatient. You talk about her ALL THE DAMN TIME. I can't listen to you anymore!"

Luka shifted in his spot "I don't talk about her that much"

"You literally stormed in my room last night talking about her humor and how cool she is. Go tell her how you feel, Luka"

He contemplated for a minute making Juleka impatient "Now! Go!"

The blue boy nodded, setting his guitar aside, and running as fast as he could. He ran the way he remembered Y/n to go. His legs could sprint only so fast but somehow he managed to run it all the way through.

Just by the bridge, she saw her walk by herself. It was already getting late, the sun was just around the corner, held by its fingertips to not yet say goodbye. She was looking to the river, calm and alone. "Y/n!" he shouted, putting all the energy he had to pull it through.

"Y/n!" he screamed once more to what the girl turned around. Just as she was about to ask what was happening, Luka panted taking her hand in his the moment he got the chance.

"No, no, I talk." He said taking a deep breath and looking right into her eyes. "Y/n from the moment we met in the park, I couldn't stop thinking about you. You took a tool on me, god, I'm wrapped around your finger! I can't focus when I see you, I lose all my senses when you smile"

Y/n smiled at the ongoing love declaration. "And no matter how hard I tried to cover up my feelings, to forget you, there just is no escape. I am lost, I'm losing my mind. God, what are you doing to me? I rant about you to Juleka, dear Lord. You made a mess out of me, Y/n, and I love, I love, I love you."

And before thinking, Y/n pressed her lips against his. She kissed him long and lovingly, making him melt under her touch.

"That makes the two of us"

[bflolocalpunk]

(Forgotten 2014 Post) - The Year of Steve Ardo

At the lowest point of my life I had made the decision to live on and fight for a brighter future. I didn’t have a set plan of attack, the only goal I had in mind was to survive the rest of 2013. As 2014 ends, I’m looking back on how everything has changed in just one short year.

In early 2013 I had began drawing up flyers for punk shows in the area. While I made 11 flyers across that span of year, I only attended maybe about 3 shows in total. I resolved to change that, starting on January 4th in which I became acquainted with 2 more local punk bands: Accidentals and On The Cinder. They were ecstatic that they met the guy who drew up the flyer and promises were made to talk later about artwork. I also introduced myself to The Howl, a four-piece touring from Chicago in which I bonded over printmaking with a the lead vocalist and guitarist Sam. Witnessing first-hand how much these bands appreciated my work gave me a special kind of warm feeling deep inside; this is where I belonged. In time I met more musicians and bands that welcomed me with open arms and became another family to me.

I made strides in the art community as well. As of December 31st, 2014 I still haven’t had an exhibition of my own, but I’ve created numerous friendships and connections with other artists throughout the city including some well-known ones. Established artists were going out of their way to introduce me to other resources. For the first time in my life I was getting recognition for my work and people knew my name.

I started to date again. I was still grieving James’s departure, but I wanted to at least meet new people and see what might transpire. I wound up meeting a med student from my alma mater over a few drinks. Kris was a transplant from NYC who grew up in the same small West Virginian town as one of my uncles. We hit it off right away. After a week of going on dates, we made our relationship official. He was 5 years my senior, but without even putting any real effort into it we fit together perfectly. The relationship lasted the entirety of March until the beginning of April before an old flame of his came into the picture and eventually ousted me from my boyfriend throne. It was devastating to me as once again I was just experiencing happiness with someone and things suddenly fell apart.

Spring wasn’t setback-free by any means. In the same month that Kris left me I also was let go of my full-time screen-printing job and once again someone very important was taken away from me forever. Seriously, fuck April. I was still homeless and the financial burdens of massive student loan debt bared down on me with every month’s end. Sometimes life happens like that, and even though I had no control over the circumstances I still endured them at point-blank range with full knowledge that I was no longer as weak as I once was.

Summer was fast approaching and I began networking within Buffalo’s LGBT community. Almost every month the Pride Center of WNY organizes a mixer for working LGBT professionals to meet-up and connect with others. I was out of a job and had no idea where to even begin looking, so I didn’t think it could hurt. While frequenting them I started to meet new friends and share stories of the DIY community I was now deeply a part of. At one such mixer I wound up hitting it off with a guy (confession: he happened to look like a lot like James, that’s why I approached him), and while he was already partnered he told me of a friend of theirs that was looking for a roommate. I had made new friends and finally escaped my indefinite homelessness.

The hot summer days also provided endless events that kept me busy. Every weekend was full of shows and festivals and it seemed like I was constantly on the go. Hell, I even had the chance to participate in a few and get some free press. Softball started up again and even if I was carrying a heavy heart missing a certain someone I still went to support my friends in the LGBT league. Before I knew it autumn had arrived and with softball now over I started joining a small group for karaoke every Tuesday night at Q on Allen. A new friend I had made earlier in the summer (1 of 2 Steves I became close with) donated an unused bike of his so now I had a lot more freedom to go places in the city. This would be a huge help as my car broke down right before Halloween.

I threw my hat into the dating ring again; for the period of about 3 weeks I went on 2-3 dates a week with different guys just to play the field. I soon realized that I wasn’t quite ready to date again; the majority of my past relationships were really emotionally intense, and I wasn’t quite okay with being single yet. Andrew and Tim were gone, I still had feelings for Kris, and I missed James (or maybe it was what might’ve been with James). Now I’ve finally accepted being single so getting to know guys and seeing where things progress doesn’t scare me as much. I’m still petrified of falling in love again, but someday that fear will subside and I will find someone to share the rest of my life with.

There was a bit of a minor shakeup in my life regarding the non-profit organization I’ve volunteered at for almost 3 years now. I’m currently on a break from there and using this time as a means of focusing on my own major projects. If I choose to return I know that I will be welcomed back without issue. After New Year’s I plan on making my official decision.

It’s a surreal feeling when I take a look back at everything that’s happened in 2014. Last year I was forcing myself to live until midnight just so that I could say that I survived a year of hell after a very close attempt at suicide. I’ve made some very amazing friends and have met and worked with some awesome musicians. On The Cinder, Accidentals, Hang Bob Ewell, B-Side Basterds, The Cran Tangerines, Seven Thirty Seven, Angstea, Battleship Crunch, Grain Assault, Creation Order Xtinction, Ballzy, Loudmouse, Everett Lonesome’s Nightmare, Robin and the Hoods, The Crack Horse... there’s too many wonderful and talented friends to list and I had the honor of becoming an artist/designer in the Aluminum Records family. The Northrup House, The Flower House, Hoyt and others have become more than the scenes of basement shows; they’ve become communities of individuals working together for something bigger. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting touring bands like The Howl, Samuel Powers, and Oh The Humanity! and even forming friendships with some of their members. I’m now part of a community where I’m putting my heart and soul into keeping the DIY spirit alive working side-by-side with others who share the same beliefs through art and music.

Last year I would never have believed that life would take me down this road, but then again last year I was not the same person I am today. Even now I couldn’t tell you what happened or why things changed. Dumb luck? Did “fate” decide to give me a goddamn break for once? All I know is that I resolved to never give up, no matter what.

[thesmokingguns]

Not with the band

summary: hi everyone, I wrote this for @ayablackwood . I hope you like it!

A/N: this is my longest oneshot and I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you for Reading. If you want to make a request for a fix either message me or you can request HERE. Thank you!

tag list: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @ayablackwood @agroupiewhore

Word Count:6102

Izzy POV

The first thing I noticed about her was the big brown eyes. Sad eyes that showed she had lived her life and seen a few things in her time. I had never noticed a girl's eyelashes before but I could see  the long black lashes sweeping down, staring at her drink before looking back up almost doing a reset. Maybe she was like me and thought that these parties took a lot out of a person. The constant talking to strangers, faking politeness or interest in a conversation with someone.

I got a reputation for being indifferent, a quiet introspective sort of person who didn't care about others. But that wasn’t who I was; I just found most people were just boring to be around. There are only so many times you can talk about your band before you realize that it’s not your band they care about. Most girls I met just wanted to sleep with me. It wasn’t even that they wanted to sleep with me but that they wanted to sleep with the guitarist from Guns n Roses. And that was fine. I had no problem sleeping with the girls who didn’t require me to put in any effort because I wasn’t going to waste my time trying to woo them.

But as I watched this stranger across the room, I couldn't help but start to think about who she was. I noticed she had a nervous tick of pushing her straight black hair behind her ear when men came up to her and when she was talking to her friends she’d place her hands on their forearms almost whispering secrets into their ears. She played with the tab of her beer can, the one she only sipped a couple times in the hour that I had been watching her. She wasn’t wearing skyrocketing heels or lace dresses. She had on a button up summer dress with a collar and short sleeves. Every once and a whole she’d stuff her hand in a pocket, letting her eyes sweep the room for someone she knew. She looked ready for a church picnic and not the rock and roll party at a beach house that would probably stretch though the entire weekend. She didn’t even seem to notice that she wasn’t all teased up 80’s glam; she was comfortable in her.

I had no idea who she was or who she came with but I couldn’t stop staring at her. She drank beer instead of the usual wine or booze that the girls at these parties consumed and instead of hanging out near a band member she was around other girls.  They all seemed to come over to her, leaning close to whisper secrets in her ear, the sly smiles they spread across their faces. How did she know so many people here and I had no idea who she was? Finally, Axl’s girlfriend laced their arms, dragging her over to the couch where Axl and I were both sitting, giving me a chance to get to know her.

“This is Y/N, she’s my best friend. Y/N this is Axl and Izzy.'' When the introduction was done she pulled her down on the couch, our legs touching from the close proximity. I watched her lick her lips, turning to lean close to me so she could talk and have me hear what she was saying. I could smell her shampoo, like lavender, and feel the warmth of her body as she gave me a conspiratory look. It was intoxicating being this close to her and having her overwhelm my senses.

“I’m everyone’s best friend because I’m usually the designated driver.” she joked, the smile breaking out over her face like she was sharing this joke with me. Holy shit, it was like staring into the sun when her smile spread across her face, warming up those sad brown eyes and showing a twinkle of joy.

Hook, line, and sinker. I never reacted to a girl like this before and now this stranger was beside me on the couch and I couldn’t even think of something to say. All I could think about was how soft her hair looked and how much I wanted to wrap my fingers around a silky lock. Or how her nails weren’t painted the fashionable red or the neon colors but this soft pink. Everything about her seemed to stick out or maybe she was just sticking out to me because I was already obsessed with her.

“I’m Izzy.” She gave me a look and I realized that introductions had already been made and I was just making a fool of myself. This is exactly what I get for spacing out in so many conversations with girls. I lost any sort of ability to communicate with someone. “Do you want to get out of here?” Following up my reintroduction of myself with a line that I had used on a bunch of one night stands that I had wanted to stop talking about. It was that instant feeling of regret seeping into me.

“No, I don’t.” She didn’t give me any other explanation, only got up from the couch, headed over to a group of people and blended into them with ease. She hadn't even given me a look when she left.

“You have been staring at  Y/N all night and I got her to come and sit down next to you and not even five minutes later you screwed it up. What did you say to her?” the girl on Axl’s lap asked me. I felt like a kid being scolded by my parents and even felt a burning in my cheeks.

“I’ll fix it, don’t worry.” I was standing up, walking across the room to where she was standing. It had been months, maybe years since I went up to a girl and not just let them come up to me. It was like she felt me coming, her head turning, eyes meeting mine and suddenly I was forgetting everything that I had prepared in my mind. Just the way she looked at me had me forgetting the apology that I had in my mind. “Just grabbing a beer.” I reached around her grabbing a beer from the bucket on the table watching her eyes follow me. Smooth. So fucking smooth.

It had been a week since the party and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I’d go to sleep thinking of her. She’d come to me in my dreams with those brown eyes waking me up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the side of her lips curled up and her whole face lit up when she smiled. I started to realize I was putting her on this pedestal, obsessing over Y/N, a girl I had met once in passing at a party.

So I did the only thing that I could do. I called up Axl to have his girlfriend plan a  double date so that I could see her again. With the double date she would have her friend there for support but she would also be there with me.  This would give me the opportunity to charm her and show her I was capable of conversations that were bigger than just introducing myself or getting a beer.

The girls were at the bar and my heart got caught in my throat when I saw her. She was wearing a silky green dress, clinging to the curves of her body. Cherry painted lips, full and just needing to be kissed, were in a smile as she sipped a wine glass. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the night.

Her eyes landed on mine across the room, the soft smile she was wearing blooming larger as she shook her head, leaning forward to her friend before the pair of them were both headed over to us.

“I had a feeling it would be you here tonight.” she had that glint in her eyes again, “What was your name again? I don’t think that I caught it the first time.” the way she teased me so easily put me at ease. I didn't feel the stress like I had the night of the party. She was bringing me out of the shyness, fixing the way my mouth was tongue tied.

Y/N sat next to me at dinner, tight in the booth as we talked about all the usual things people talked about but instead of hitting the highlight rail and painting a rainbow over her life she was raw. When we talked about family she told me about her grandparents who had raised her and Aunts and Uncles who stepped in where her parents failed. She knew about the band because she was actually best friends with Axl’s girlfriend so when she looked at me there was a skeptical look in her eyes as if she knew the secrets and shames of my life. But there wasn't any judgement.

Y/N asked me questions, not about the band and what it felt like to be on stage or if I’d write a song about her but different questions like what it felt like when I held a guitar for the first time and how many songs did he write that never made it past notebooks. We talked and talked, snug in the booth together seeming to forget it was a double date and we just fell into a conversation together.

Finally a waiter came over to us letting us know that the place was closing and that the two of you had to leave. Time had completely gotten away from me as I had stayed wrapped up in her. Looking across the table I saw Axl and his date gone.The check was on the table but before I could reach for it she had thrown money down, smiling up at the waiter and letting him know it was all set.

“I’m supposed to pay for that.” I said as she scooted  gently pushing me out of the booth. Her shoulders shrugged as she walked out of the restaurant, not waiting for me or seeming to care if I was behind her.

The sound of her heels on concrete, gave away which direction she was headed. Her bare shoulders were held high even in the cool night and I was rushing to be by her side, shrugging out of the denim jacket and wrapping it around her. The kind brown eyes looked up at me, skeptical for a second.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Izzy.” her voice was clear and came out easily, “And I don’t date musicians.” She was matter of fact, shutting off the fact that we had just had a good night together and had gotten to know each other more.

I had watched the way she talked, confirming some of her nervous ticks. Like how she would look down and reset, sweeping her eyes around the room when she wasn’t comfortable. That had stopped about twenty minutes into dinner when we started to get along. There was no beer can tab to bend this way and that so instead her finger swirled around the top ledge of her wind glass in between small sips of wine.

“I never said anything about sleeping with you or dating you.” I said as we got to the corner. Her brown eyes were narrowed, regarding me with a strange curiosity like she was trying to make out what I wanted from her. “I want to kiss you though.” My hand slid through her black hair, as soft as silk, just like I had known it would be. She gasped, her mouth opening in a slight gasp not expecting me to be so close to her. Our eyes met and I watched her search me, as if there would be answers behind my eyes that I hadn’t spoken to her.

“If you kiss me I’ll never speak to you again. I don’t need boys kissing me.” her brown eyes were serious. There was an interesting spark there and it wasn’t like she was telling me that I couldn't kiss her. Y/N hadn’t moved an inch from my arms, she stayed looking up at me with my hands on her lower back. Having her in my arms felt good, not like the carnal or feral pleasure that I had with random girls. It was like we could communicate without words

“I’m not a boy, I’m a man.” The way she smirked at that statement was encouraging but there was still the fear in her eyes that I wanted to see gone. How could I get those brown eyes to only shimmer in happiness. “Let me walk you home.” I pulled back, watching the way her eyes sparkled for a second. It was the first time I felt like I had made the right choice.

Two days later I was sitting on the couch backstage, my fingers picking idolly on the guitar when two giggling girls burst into backstage. And there she was, eyes shiny with joy as she laughed with her friend. The pair of them seemed almost surprised that they were in the room with the band. Y/N looked up, eyes landing on me as if she knew exactly where I would be.

I don’t know why her eyes knocked the wind out of me everytime that they looked at me but I was made stupid in her presence. She didn’t come over to talk to me, staying with her friend. Her black hair was tied back in a red ribbon bow. If she could have reached the ribbon I’m sure she would have pulled it out; she was playing with the end of her ponytail. I didn’t know why she was nervous but I gave her space watching how every few minutes she would look down her eyes looking around until they landed on me. When we would make eye contact she seemed frustrated by it and would pull her eyes away.

I had her phone number which I had called several times since the double date without her picking up once. There had to be a reason she was ignoring me. I had thought of around 100 in the time that I had been obsessing with her. The biggest one, the one that made the most sense is she wasn’t into me because there was someone else. The logical part of my brain accepted this but the other part wanted to fight for her, prove that I was worth it.

Before we went on stage, I looked over at her again.She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept since I dropped her off. Small dark circles that she hadn’t bothered to cover in makeup stood out as she sipped her beer. She wasn’t trying to make everyone laugh or touching forearms as she leaned in to speak to them. One hand was firmly planted in the denim shorts she was wearing and the other on a can of beer that I was sure was warm from how long she nursed it. It felt like something was wrong and I didn't have time to figure out what it was.

During the show I looked over, almost doing a double take when I saw her standing there, watching us perform. Her friends were all moving to the music but she was perfectly still just watching me. Not the band but me. She caught me staring and sent me a small wave in return, I missed the next note getting a scathing look from Axl as repayment.

How could she be so inside my head? I had no idea how to deal with it. All I could think about for the rest of the shoe was getting off stage and talking to her. Or kissing her. I could imagine her pressed against her, her arms wrapping around my neck as I lifted off her feet into a kiss. The feeling of her plus lips on mine, her tongue that I was sure tasted like something sweet, dancing against mine. I blinked myself out of the image, stealing a look over at her as if she could read my embarrassing thoughts. Just like  a high school idiot I was fantasizing about a girl. I needed to get a better grip on things.

It took me almost twenty minutes to find her after the show. Between all the hustle and bustle of people moving around it was like a whirlwind and then suddenly there she was walking towards me, what looked like my denim jacket folded over her arm.

“Hey, I just brought this back for you. I have to head home now.” She tried to hand me the jacket but I was too caught up in the idea of her leaving so soon to grab it.  Y/N must have seen the confusion on my face, “I have a meeting I need to prepare for tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t have even come out to this.” She motioned around to the show and once more held out the jacket for me to take,

“Why don’t I take you home?” The weary look on her face was there again; she didn’t trust me. It was fair. We hadn’t known each other for that long and if she knew the same people as I did it wasn’t really a slight on me to not trust me. It was common sense, “I just want to have a couple more minutes with you. I won’t force myself into your apartment or anything like that.” I could feel my heart breathing as I tried to play off this cool, collected guy. When she nodded in agreement I had to bite my lip to stop the idiotic smile from plastering across my face.

We talked in the car, small talk about little things and I asked her about her meeting. I got to glimpse her face express joy, stress, hope, and a million other emotions at the mention of it and realized this wasn’t just her work meeting but her passion meeting. Y/N wanted to design clothes and had gotten a meeting to work with a company to see her line. If she was taken on she could have a clothing line out as soon as the Spring.

I had been around musicians for so long that it seemed second nature to brag or talk about our work. There would be a million times where someone would just pick up an instrument and other people would join in on a jam session and suddenly a song was written. Or the amount of times composition notebooks were passed around to judge song lyrics someone else had written. No one was really shy about their music because everyone had this sense that they were the best at what they did.

Y/N seemed to have a track record of people not fully believing in her. She told me about her grandparents having sent her to college to get a husband more than they had sent her to get a degree and when she had graduated with her business degree and a good job they had been proud of her but there had been this sense of failure with it. If she told them it would just feel like it was about her step away from their traditional expectations of how she should live her life. Her friends were all so wrapped up in what they were doing, most of them hanging around the scene and trying to land a rich boyfriend to take care of them that she felt like if she shared her work with them they wouldn’t understand what she was trying to do. So she kept her designs to herself, sketching out ideas and tracing out pattern designs when she was alone. She would take vacation days from work just to sew or spend whole weekends pretending she had the stomach flu to give her an escape from everyone else and just focus on something that she wanted to do.

Seeing her talk about it and feeling the sincerity of her passion coming out in her words moved me and I had to see it. I wanted to see what made her so excited and what her dreams were. It felt important to me because it made her happy.

“Do you think I could see what you’re working on?” I asked when we pulled up outside of her place. She looked at me, shocked and stared for a second before giving a slight nod as she got out of the car leading me inside the place that she lived.

It was exactly how I would imagine it to be, pictures on the wall of family and friends, fresh flowers on the counter, a coffee cup with a lipstick smear on her coffee table, and just a mess of fabric everywhere.

“Sorry for the chaos. I’ve been in a panic mood.” she confessed, clearing off the couch and starting to tidy up as I walked around, looking at some of the sketches on the wall and letting my fingers run over the clothing she had on some forms. I could feel her eyes following me, watching me as I moved around.

“You did all of this by yourself?” She nodded, those brown eyes scared as she shared with me the intimacy of her craft. The raw unfinished hems of art in progress. “You’re amazing.” her eyes widened at this and for a second I thought she was going to cry. I took a step closer to her, “You should be really proud of yourself for getting all of this done. And your work is amazing. Will you tell me more about your meeting?”

And she did. We sat on the couch, time once more seeming to melt away around us. Both of us talked about our goals and dreams. The life we wanted and just some of the things that we had dreamed about. It was easy to talk about the life that we both wanted because our puzzle pieces we wanted in our life seemed to fit together.

The sun tickled me awake, teasing me out of sleep as I woke up on a couch. I looked at my side where Y/N was tucked in, fast asleep. There was a smirk as she dreamed about something amusing, drawn over her face. Some of her dark hair had escaped the pony tail and spilled over the gentle features of her face. Absent-mindedly, I tucked them back watching amused as her nose scrunched up from my fingers.

I couldn’t remember waking up next to someone that I hadn’t had sex with. I wasn’t sure what I was even supposed to do. Could I make myself a cup of coffee? Could I sneak out and make it to the band meeting I needed to be at in thirty seven minutes? Shit.

Trying to be gentle I slowly got up from the couch, rearranging Y/N so she would stay asleep. I grabbed my jacket, laying it over her as she resettled into the spot. I wanted to stay so badly but knew that I couldn’t miss the meeting.

Finding a pen I scribbled a note, hoping that she could read my chicken scratch writing and that she saw the message before her meeting. With one last glance I looked at her before leaving the apartment.

Y/N POV

Oh man, another night on the couch. My back was protesting against my decision before I even opened my eyes. It smells like cigarettes, sweat, and cologne. It smells like Izzy. My eyes snapped open as I remembered talking to him last night. Now I’m waking wrapped in the denim jacket I tried to give him back and he’s gone. When did he leave?

Looking at the time I started rushing around, packing things up in the garment bags, getting dressed and grabbing my bag. I stopped seeing a piece of paper with different handwriting on the counter, Izzy’s name signed at the bottom.

‘Sorry for sneaking out on you well you slept, you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Your work is amazing and they’ll be so lucky to add your designs to the team. Good luck, Y/N. I’ll be throwing a party tonight. Here’s my address. Please come. -Izzy’

The kind words had my cheeks blazing. He believed in mr. He thought I had talent and could see the creativity and love sewn into each garment. He respected my craft and my passions. He had listened to my lamenting the night before about everything and he wanted my dreams to be realities.

The realization that I liked the guitarist started to seep in. The preconceived notions of who the band was and how they slept around was starting to slip; for the past couple weeks Izzy only had eyes for me. And when we talked it was so easy to tell him everything. At the parties and backstage Izzy had stayed away from the girls who wanted to sleep with him. He had even left to take me home. He hadn’t tried anything.

I had made this assumption about him because his band was just like everyone else. After the meeting I’d get ready and talk to him, apologize, kiss him.

Walking into the party I tried not to fidget with the leather dress. My eyes wandered around the house, I knew most of the people here but I couldn’t find Izzy.

It was twenty minutes later when I finally spotted him on the balcony. He looked uncomfortable, three girls crowded around him as he nodded his head absently. Every couple minutes he’d look up, eyes scanning the crowd before looking down at his drink, tipping it back to down the amber liquid. But the girls were going in rotation to the bar to keep them coming.

A weird cramping filled my stomach and my hands tightened in fists. The jealousy overtook me as I tried to figure out a plan.

“You’re staring at Izzy like he usually stares at you.” Looking over my shoulder I saw Axl staring past you to where his bandmate was trapped being held hostage by the hyenas. “Are you going to save him or are you going to let them take him upstairs? Better figure it out kid.” The lead singer moved away leaving me alone. I stewed in my anger, showtime.

One foot in front of another, hips swinging dangerously side to side I watched the eyes follow me. Izzy finally saw me when I got to the balcony, stepping forward to break out from his captors. My hand went to the back of his head, pulling him down a few inches to my lips and planting my lips on his. Hands slid down the smooth sides of the dress around me to my ass and back up to my lower back. Pulling away, my heart beating a million miles a minute, I looked into his shocked eyes. At least it wasn’t just me that felt the fireworks.

“I’ve had a very good day and I’m not going to let anyone ruin that.” I explained to him, flashing him a smile. Izzy cupped my cheeks, his lips hitting mine again as his body pressed me into the balcony. I could feel every part of him, hard and solid against me.

“I’ve been waiting to kiss you for weeks.” His head rested against mine and for a second I forgot that we were at a party surrounded by friends. Izzy seemed to completely forget, his eyes on me, one hand firm against my hip well the other ran through my hair.

“Did it live up to expectations?” I teased, watching the way he was looking at me. His gaze was intense and I felt like I was going to shiver despite the warmth of the night.

“It just left me hungry to kiss every inch of your body.” His words came out husky, vibrating through me and making the dress that barely covered my skin seem too hot to wear anymore.

A flip had been switched on and I couldn’t turn it off. After fighting it for weeks the feeling of Izzy’s hands in my body was exactly what I wanted.

“Are you going to fuck me like one of your groupies?” I asked, “Are we going to go upstairs and in an hour I’ll leave and never hear from you again?” His eyebrows furrowed together, confused.

“Do you think that I’m only going to take an hour with you, honey? That’s cute.” He was taking my hand, weaving us through the crowd and to his bedroom. My cheeks were burning red as he pulled us inside, locking the door behind us. “If you don’t want this, now would be the time to tell me because if you don’t say something in the next ten seconds I’m going to toss you on that bed behind you and do things with your body that I’m sure you’ve never had done before.” His eyes were staring so deeply into me, I gulped trying to picture what he had in mind but not being able to have a coherent thought.

“Why are we still in clothes?”

That was exactly the answer he was looking for. He took one step towards me, looking over my dress before spinning me around, his lips on the back of my neck kissing and biting around to my ear as his fingers pulled the zipper down, his middle finger tracing my spine as it went.

His mouth moved down, kissing until the dress was off, biting my ass cheek as I stepped from the dress. Izzy was on his knees behind me and I felt disoriented that I couldn’t see him.

“Bend over for me. Put your elbows out so you’re comfortable, Y/N. Good job, honey.” Licking my lips I followed his instructions and my body position ass up off the bed.

Hands on my hips rolled my underwear down, pulling it off as well as sliding off my heels. I felt on display, like I was his toy to play with. The idea of it having me bite my lip.

“Look at your pretty pussy.” His finger traced the outside lips, a whimper rolling out of my mouth, “I’m going to take care of you, honey. Don’t worry about that. Let me just enjoy the sight of you and learn your body, okay?” I nodded wishing I could turn and look at him. He rubbed his hands over my ass, pushing my stomach down and arching me higher. His hands went down again, pushing my legs open.

The way that Izzy made a hissing sound followed by a low grunt had me wondering what he was doing.

“Izzy, I can’t see what you’re doing.” I whined out trying to turn. A soft smack on my ass had me freezing in place.

“Do you want me to describe everything to you?” His voice seemed deeper, husky and needy now. “I’m going to get undressed .” The sound of a fly going down, a belt buckle unclipping and the sound of clothes being tossed aside confirmed this. “Now, I’m going to get on my knees behind you and play with your pussy. It’s so juicy and wet I’m going to pump out some of the juices like this.”

Two fingers stretched me open, surging me forward. Izzy moved his fingers quickly for a second, curling them inside to rub against the swell inside of my body. He pulled them out after a second and I heard a slurping sound and a groan of appreciation. I could picture him tasting me off himself and moaning softly into the bed sheets.

“I’m going to get more of your wet pussy juice and use it to stroke my hard cock. Is that okay, honey?” I squeaked out a yes, feeling his two fingers teasing at my hole. My body pushed back, wanting to feel full of him again, “What was that?” He kissed my thigh, wet grin the juices he had just been working from inside of me.

“Please, Izzy. I want you to pump your cock with my wet pussy.” My heart was beating so loudly. I was so horny and just wanted him to work the orgasm from my body. I felt comfortable and trusted him with myself, feeling like he wouldn’t abuse the power in a way I didn’t like.

His fingers were once more inside of me, working at me again. My hands gripped the sheets, trying not to push back against him but I could feel the rocking in my hips.

“Do you need to cum? Am I not finger fucking you hard enough? Let me use my mouth. I’ll fuck you with my tongue and suck on that little swollen clit.” His fingers left my body and I whimpered. I could hear this wet grunting and knew he was fisting his cock as he played with me. “You have me so hard.”

“So fuck me.” I said panting. It felt like he kept getting me so close and stopping. I could feel the quivering in my legs and knew I was more than ready to cum.

“Patience. You made me be patient for you now you be a good girl and let me taste you. I want to lap up your sticky pussy juices before I bury my cock into you.” At the idea of his cock in me I could feel the tightening in my belly.

“Holy-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence. His warm tongue swiped over me, twirling around my home, dancing into my pussy and licking my walls before sliding out down to my slit where his perfect lips wrapped around it like a kiss before his tongue spun around it sucking and pulling it in his mouth.

I was rocking again, over-stimulated and wanting to orgasm more and more. My mind was blank, a coherent thought no longer feasible.

“You can cum for me. I’ll keep sucking and licking you and right at your peak I’m going to push my cock all the way in. You’re going to keep pushing back just like you’re doing now in it, Cumming against my cock and letting me drain myself inside you.” He whispered as he laid these over stimulating kisses over my glistening cunt. His tongue swiped down into me again, then a flat stroke over me and up to my clit. I felt his tongue slide around it sucking the small ball until I was shaking from the orgasm.

Izzy was quick to slide inside me, filling me with his cock, stretching it as he fucked me, dragging out my orgasm as my wetness slid down my thighs over his balls and on his own legs.

“That’s a good girl, cumming so hard against my cock.” His hands were on my hips as I pushed back wanting him to keep fucking me. My hands on the small of my waist helped to pull me back and keep me dripping over every inch of him.

The low groan he gave out let me know he was close and I squeezed, pushing myself back up on my elbows tk throw it back. His hand slid down to my ass smacking it knee again before hands were digging on my hip, his balls slapping my enforced clit as he shuddered inside me.

Izzy stayed like that for a second, both of us panting and gasping for air. He pulled out with a satisfied groan falling beside me on the bed and dragging me close to him in the bed.

His lips were on my head, soft kisses and hair strokes soothing me. Izzy dragged a bed sheet over us, his arms returning to wrap around me. I felt exhausted, safe, comfortable and something deeper for him. A new connection beyond just the carnal pleasure we just had.

“Do you want to stay here for the night? We can do brunch in the morning and you can tell me all about your meeting?” He had remembered the most important step in my career and was making time for me to tell him more about it.

I pulled him into another kiss, his lips tasted like me and I knew we weren’t going to leave this bed until that brucnh he was talking about.

[highdramas]

your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

 To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

[creativeashproductions]

Healed by the Music // Luke Patterson

Summary: After the fallout of reckless behaviour and forced to return back home the reader had rediscovered her love for music. Close with her family once more her band Graveyard Petals receives an offer that could turn around the band’s tarnished reputation. The only issue is not wanting to hurt those close by leaving.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

A/N: The second and final part to a lovely little series I had grown to love, the first part is Drowning From the Past. I came up with the band name so if you want to use it send an ask and we talk about it. This is set after the first season and Ray can now see them after the whole Golden glow thing.

Part One - Drowning in the Past

Masterlist

In the months you retreated back to Los Feliz the band had grown exponentially bringing in more revenue with merch. The social media followers grew as well with the hope of a new photo posted of you and the band. The most recent teased new music coming.

Speaking of music, it seemed to pour out of your body into two notebooks unknown to both your sister and her band—the band of ghosts that become massive fans of Graveyard Petals when Julie played full-length debut album Dahlia. Luke had even collaborated on a song for your band; his name the first of writing credits.

Now, seven months after the shameful return the band had gotten the offer of a lifetime to open for 5 Seconds of Summer on a world tour. The issue came with talking with Julie, and the guys gave you had shown your father you had healed.

"Hey, what's been up with you lately?" Julie asked, seating herself in the swing right beside you. Her hair pulled away from her youthful face.

Whenever you looked at Julie, you saw Mom with the gorgeous hair and gleeful smile that brightened a room. Even on your mom's death bed, the room flared with that same smile in every picture in albums and on the walls. Sometimes you swore the piano in the studio bath in the warm light brought by the one person that taught you and Julie to play.

"I've been thinking." You simply spoke eyes focused on the park that had been a massive part of your life.

Every year Rose and Ray Molina had brought their three children to the very park the two had met years before. Rose would bring flowers to a specific bench, and every time you asked why she had the same answer.

Little Y/N was a precocious child inquisitive of the world around her held at an arms life by her parents. Skilled at singing and natural affinity for music it worried Rose, in her eldest child she recognized something. The intense passion and talent that a particular guitarist had once displayed on a stage that would have changed everything.

"It a place of absolute joy and acceptance. Four legends came together in front of that very bench."

Rose would never know about the place had Bobby not subconsciously led her there for the first time mere hours after the devastating loss. He had collapsed to his knees, pleading for his best friends, his brothers to return. In broken sobs, he had told Rose that this park, this bench was the first place Sunset Curve played. Band fresh and still unnamed they had gotten confident enough to set up near the bench to start building a following.

Now it was eight years after the first visit with Bobby who started going by Trevor a year after the loss. The fresh-faced boy that had flirted with Rose had changed, and at that time, Rose wasn't sure it was a good or bad thing.

"It was the guys Mom left the flowers for." Julie started following your eyesight to the bench that had a fresh bouquet. A single dahlia in the middle of the flowers for your mother.

"Yeah." You softly spoke, turning to focus on the girl that had healed through music. Seeing how grownup Julie had become hurt your heart. Julie wasn't a child anymore, and you wished she never went through what you did for months.

The two Molina girls sat in comfortable silence with minds thinking the most opposite things possible.

"5 Seconds of Summer is going on tour. We should try and score some tickets when they come to LA." Julie spoke, raising one leg to rest her arm on it. The high waisted light washed jeans with paintings on them.

Your heart clenched at her excitement for a band you both adored for years.

"I know. 5SOS gave Lucy an offer for Graveyard Petals to open for them worldwide. The others are down to join, but if I'm not ready, we won't." You avoided the brown eyes burning your cheek for a second.

Julie's warm hand clasped yours in hers to jog to your car you had bought with your first paycheque. Unable to figure out her state on the possible tour, you quietly drove back home with no sound other than breathing.

"Hey!" Luke beamed as his two favourite girls, came wandering into the studio with pensive expressions and stooped shoulders.

Alex picked up on their moods almost instantly, "Are you okay?"

Your mouth opened before the loud yell of Flynn cut off your opportunity to respond and a slap smack to the back of your head. The sharp cry of pain stumbled from your chapped lips and Flynn's frustration rolling off her form.

"Flynn!" You sharply called rubbing the stinging spot with a glare outmatched by Flynn's fire. The look unlike you had ever seen on the girl with a sharp sense of fashion and unapologetic personality.

"You got asked by 5 Seconds of Summer to tour the world as an opening act!" Flynn elaborated at your confused expression, "Jules texted me. You need to do this! The amount of questions of if GP will return is outrageous! In the last two days, the band's Instagram got five thousand new followers."

The ghostly trio stayed silent as Flynn reprimanded her best friend's older sister with crazy talent. Flynn was your self appointed biggest fan with buying the first album at the store to demanding to wear newly designed merch before the drop.

"I'm enjoying being at home. I'm on good terms with Julie and Carlos, Dad doesn't look like he's gonna drop dead in disappointment when he sees me." You shrugged focusing on the discoloured mark on the ground.

"It's okay to be scared." Alex supplied smiling as Flynn nodded her thanks as the tall drummer stepped in.

After escaping the Hollywood Ghost Club (HGC), a handful of people gained the ability to see them, including Flynn. It was rather refreshing for the girl to finally interact with the guys with Julie being the middle man.

"I'm not-"You cut yourself off at the disbelief on Julie's face with her arms crossed just as your mother had done, "I nearly lost myself in the bottom of a bottle. I fucked up my relationships and tarnished both mine and the band's reputation."

Luke's warm hand came down on your shoulder in the act of support, the touch a new factor to the ghost. Your hand came to rest on his with a smile of gratitude cast to the dead boy.

"You have healthy coping mechanisms to fall back on. You'll have us to visit with the poofing ability. If you stumble, we will be here for you." Reggie informed you with his toothy grin and kind eyes.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, feeling the wound close up, leaving a scar that had blistered and reopened since last year. The cheers enveloped you like their arms as you texted Lucy and the band your decision.

Dublin, Ireland 2021

"Hello, Dublin!" Your voice amplified in the large stadium of fans cheering for your band—the thud of Iris on her drum kit.

James idly stroking the strings on his dark green teal guitar your band had pitched in as a gift to him. On the opposite side of the stage was Sawyer with their custom-made gorgeous marble green and white colour.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself so far! It is our last song before the real act comes out!" You exclaimed to the boisterous crowd.

Just barely in the wing of the stage waited the band that had quickly become older brothers to you. A band that had given you a chance after the madness of your downward spiral.

"This song came out in 2018 and quickly became one of my favourites. It wouldn't be right to sing it without some friends." You continued as the guys walked onto the stage, "Without further adieu, this is Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer!"

Luke Hemmings along with Calum, Ashton, and Michael ran to join your band as Iris started a sick beat. Calum and Michael already joining Sawyer and James in absolute perfect sync leaving Ashton to rock out by Iris. Hemmings, to not confuse him with Luke Patterson, came to stand next to you with a guitar.

[Verse 1: Hemmings]

I saw you looking brand new overnight

And I caught you looking too, but you didn't look twice

You look happy, oh, mmm

You look happy, oh

Hemmings angled his body to face you but not cut off the fans behind him, creating the vivid story you had done each rehearsal. The blue clashing your own eye colour holding your personalized sparkly emerald green mic.

[Pre Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

Flashing back to New York City

Change your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

Only adding backing vocals as Hemmings retreated to jam out with Calum leaving you to jump around the stage. Landing next to Sawyer they beamed with the loud stadium heard even through the in-ear monitors.

[Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

And now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While I'm cleaning up your mess

I know he's taking off your dress

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Raising the mic to your lips, you came into your cue returning to the middle of the stage with Hemmings.

"Give it up for Y/N!" Ashton yelled into Iris' personal microphone.

[Verse 2: You]

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me (Ah)

I know that you've been holding on to someone else

And now I can't sleep (Ah)

I ain't happy, oh

I ain't too happy, oh

[Pre Chorus: You]

Flashing back to New York City

I was done, but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The stage was charged with the chemistry the two lead singers of their respective bands all sharing grins. The cheers growing as Hemmings came closer to share the green microphone, the tech guys skillfully turning Hemmings off; no feedback sounding.

[Chorus: Hemmings & You]

Now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While he's taking off my dress

I know she's laying on your chest

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah)

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The Australian singer stepped closer to hug you quickly before finding his way to your bandmates too. The crowd all having their phones out in which the hugs would be made into edits, and the shipping would intensify.

"Dublin! You have been incredible to play for. Enjoy the rest of the concert and rock out because I will be doing so backstage." Your voice echoed over the fans with a beaming grin feeling comfortable on stage again.

"This is Easier!" Hemmings shouted as the rest of his band commenced their part of the concert just as they had the last few months.

Watching the guys perform with your own band with you was incredibly bittersweet after touring worldwide for months. The media had eaten up the sudden reappearance of the band with positive publicity increasing the popularity.

"I love this song," Sawyer spoke with a twinkle in their eyes tapping their foot to the beat. James was just barely moving his head to beat while Iris was jumping around uncaring of the people around.

"You love it because we got to collaborate on the song!" James exclaimed, tapping his hip on her thigh. Iris' 5'11 form towered over James' 5'7 height but that never caused issues with them.

James's black hair gleamed blue in the strobe lights tinting his pale complexion as well. Sawyer's hair dyed bright red pairing well with their tawny skin colour with their mocha brown irises. Iris had changed over the break abandoning her past style for a more laidback skater style.

"I'm gonna head to the bus. Grab a shower and change." You informed the band as you started retreating to where the bus was parked.

"See you soon!" Sawyer yelled with their attention halfway back on the band of guys that had given you all a second chance.

Walking down the hall with employees milling around, you barely acknowledged them other than a smile. The performing had taken a lot out of you after a fitful sleep. Carl, your band's security detail and current bouncer to the backdoor, nodded at you.

Carl's colleague would be stationed at the bus as per usual with your routine of catching one song and then leaving. Bea's hardened gaze relentless on scouring the area with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Bea." You spoke earning a grunt in response from the jaded security detail hired after adjusting back to civilian life.

You didn't have the entire story other than Bea had been in the military, but due to an injury had been medically discharged. Your manager Lucy had been the one to hire her as per the new policy of having two people of different genders on detail.

The bus was quiet as you entered flinching at the sight of your father sitting on the couch with Julie and Carlos beside him. Your mouth gaped at seeing your family after months of only FaceTime and calls.

"Oh my gosh!" You yelled lunging to hug your siblings with wide eyes matching.

Carlos had definitely grown at least two inches since you last saw him, and Julie's hair was pulled back in an intricate style. Her outfit screaming Flynn's advice but her ring was on show that matched your own.

"Surprise!" Ray exclaimed to his eldest child with pride written clear on his face, "I missed you, Mija."

"So, did I!" The cheerful voice of Luke interjected as the three boys of Julie and the Phantoms made their appearance.

Standing further back in a band shirt with Graveyard Petals was Alex's boyfriend Willie with a shy expression. He still felt incredibly guilty of delivering the boys straight into Caleb's hand and often voiced his feelings of not feeling he deserved to be friends.

"Hey, Willie. I like your shirt!" You told the tall skater who sent a shy smile.

"Still weird," Ray muttered having walked in on Reggie towel drying his hair the month before you left for tour.

It had been a very confusing and emotional time for Ray and Carlos to adapt to the new information. After Julie saved the boys and that weird golden glow happened, they had been able to make themselves visible; just no poofing in the vicinity of Ray after he nearly fainted that one time. The details hadn't been worked out yet, but Caleb was out of the picture.

"Did you catch the concert?" You questioned the group tugging on the damp t-shirt you had worn on stage. The fabric was drying after being drenched in the sweat after spending an hour under hot lights and continuous movement on stage.

"We stayed for the one last night. We stayed for your set tonight before we got Bea-"

"-she's terrified by the way," Alex interjected with a grimace on his face at the stoic young woman. The glare at focusing on her scars had truly scared the anxious drummer.

"-to let us on the bus. We wanted to surprise you and congratulate your success." Luke informed the group, "You're insanely talented by the way."

His left hand coming to intertwine with your right hand just as it had before you departed for the world tour. You had grown incredibly close to the guitarist firstly as best friends before developing into a relationship.

"We did explore Dublin for the morning. I'll forever be in Lucy's debt for sending the tickets for us." Ray happily sighed, thinking of the lovely woman that had helped Ray guide his daughter back to herself.

"I'll just hit the shower quick." You swiftly jogged to the back of the tour bus where the shower was situated near the five came rooms. The entire band each had one room and a spare for the driver.

Los Angeles, 2021

Your hair pulled away from your face you sat beside a willow tree in contemplative silence with only your guitar and notebook. You knew that in a few seconds Luke would appear for another writing session.

"I love you." Luke breathlessly spoke as he ran up to you with a great big smile.

The awe at his words blinding your thoughts from the hope you had been feeling for the last week. Luke's hazel eyes glittering in the sun and the smile bubbled onto his face.

"I love you too." The words slipped quickly off the tip of your tongue as the guitarist tugged your form into his body. Supple lips quivering on the skin of warm neck all Luke felt was gratitude.

Luke leant back to brush his calloused fingers on your cheek, "Julie got a call. Someone little birdie sent in a demo to a label."

"I wonder who that happened to be." Your smirk revealing just precisely who had sneakily grabbed the freshly recorded demo.

Lucy had always had an interest in Julie's talent in music but tabled in during the period that Rose died. The grief stealing Julie's voice and leaving behind stage fright hadn't been something Lucy would chance. The manager had always hoped Julie's voice would return.

"You gave Lucy the demo, and she passed in on to the Red Bedroom Records!" Luke was quick to tug you into his arms with a huge grin, "Julie and the Phantoms are getting signed! The owner is personally flying over on Monday to go over the contract and sign it!"

Your words muffled by his chest, "Lucy informed me about that, and she offered to manage you as well."

"Lucy is the best. She gonna mentor and give Flynn an internship to still work with the band. Thank you so much, baby." Luke whispered against the warm skin of your forehead.

"I just decided to speed up the process. Can I tell you something?" At Luke's nod, you continued, "I'm thinking in a few years to open a label of my own. I was hoping you guys and Julie would be interested in doing that with me?"

"I am so down to do that. We're gonna hire an investigator to make sure what Trevor did isn't able to happen at our label." Luke was already passionately thinking of what the hypothetical future label.

"That's perfect!" You beamed, "We could give a workshop to aid songwriting too! I thought that we could name it A Rosie Sunset. My dad called my mom Rosie most of my life and Sunset for your first band."

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did a minute ago. You proved me wrong." Luke breathless laughed before humming when your lips made contact with your own.

The warmth that had been missing the year after you mom passed away had returned, and sometimes you swore the sun shone down on you. You had no doubts it was your mom's way in heaven to hug her children. You and Julie had come to the conclusion that your mom had sent the boys into your lives.

Rose Molina, even in death, did her best to make her children happy. The three remaining members of Sunset Curve the absolute best part of her two daughters lives.

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[ladykissingfish]

A Date with an Angel // Part Two // Hidan and Obito

Hidan

“Order whatever you want; I swiped the old fuck’s credit card so dinner’s on him!” Konan panics at this, and refuses to pick up her menu until Hidan takes out his wallet and proves that he was just kidding. Today was Hidan’s turn at entertaining the lovely little lady, and he had originally intended to take her to a heavy metal performance at bar downtown (he was friends with the lead guitarist so they would have gotten in free). However, after he informed Nagato of his plans, he was met with a disappointing “Konan hates heavy metal.”, so he decided to take her to dinner instead. She seemed entirely suspicious when he approached her earlier (wearing a dress shirt and tie instead of his usual dirty muscle tank and ripped sweatpants), but nonetheless agreed to go with him to a quiet little cafe a few blocks down from the house. Konan has never really known what to make of Hidan. He was just slightly older than Deidara, but (in Konan’s opinion) ranking much higher on the “immaturity” wheel. He’s been nicknamed by the rest of the group as “Mr. Never-Dies”, because no matter what happens, what job he takes on, how badly he’s hurt ... he just keeps getting back up. One time he came home with blood running from the crown of his head and flowing into his boots, but rather than let anyone take him to a hospital, Hidan took out a needle and made Kakuzu stitch the gash on his forehead. No painkillers, no alcohol, not even any flinching. Anyone else would have been substantially messed up after such a heavy blood loss ... but Hidan was just fine, in fact laughing and talking like nothing was amiss. He’s extremely foul-mouthed and has a thing for telling dirty jokes, but today, on his date with Konan, he’s making a great effort to restrain himself. Hidan wants very badly to put his arm around her waist as he walks along beside her, but resists as he knows Nagato will tear him a new asshole if he makes her in anyway uncomfortable. He’s at a loss for what to talk to her about, so he simply asks her how she’s feeling. There’s a pause, and she goes “I’m not really sure. I lost my mood ring yesterday.” He bursts out laughing, so hard that she blushes. “That’s pretty damn funny, lady.”Konan tilts her head in surprise; nobody had ever complimented her humor before. In fact she’s usually told that the few jokes she does make are very flat, or somewhat dark. Fast forward to the cafe, where Konan is surprised again that Hidan asks for a table that’s “quiet”, and pulls out her chair for her. The waiter comes back and Konan is amused by the amount of food that Hidan is ordering. When it’s her turn, her mind is a blank, so she just orders the last thing he said (which was spaghetti and meatballs). “That’s all?” he asks, as the waiter collects their menus and leaves. “No wonder you’re so slender.” She asks him how in the world HE’S so skinny when he eats so much, and he explains he has a fast metabolism, like his mother. Konan is interested; she’s never heard him mention his family before. As if reading her mind, he says, “Me and those guys just don’t get along. They wrote me off as a brain-dead bastard when I said I wasn’t goin’ to college.” “College isn’t everything, you know. People have to do what’s right for them.” Hidan agrees, and begins telling her his much he enjoys working for Nagato, and the type of jobs they do. It’s interesting; when you got him away from the others and in a calm, quiet setting, Hidan was ... normal. Normal and actually very charming. And although he never says it out-loud, Konan gets the strong impression that Hidan has come to consider the rest of the group as being a surrogate family. Then the food comes out and Hidan turns into a different creature altogether. He eats much like an animal, viciously and indiscriminately. But instead of being disgusted by this, Konan ... feels relaxed. There’s an unspoken feeling here, that with Hidan, she can let go and be herself. She doesn’t have to worry about looking pretty, or eating daintily, or acting “like a lady”. In fact Hidan orders them ice cream sundaes for dessert,

then challenges her to see who can eat theirs the fastest. Hidan ends up winning, but they end up with a horrible case of brain-freeze that leaves them both paralyzed for several moments ... yet laughing pretty hard. Even though Konan ate far less than Hidan, she feels quite stuffed nonetheless and mentions this to Hidan, who immediately offers to give her a piggy back ride home. She hesitates to accept; it’s a ways home and Konan feels she’s not the lightest woman in the world (especially after a big meal). But he insists, and she lets him hoist her into his back and trot back to the house with her. They laugh and joke the entire way, with Hidan making numerous comments about how light she is and how good she smells. “That’s one thing about living in a house full of guys for so long; I got so used to the smell of ass and dirty socks and Doritos that I forgot there’s people in the world who know what the fuck deodorant and shampoo are!” Konan laughs so hard at this that she slips off Hidan’s back and lands on her knees in the grass, holding her stomach and howling. Seeing that she likely won’t calm down anytime soon to grab onto his back again, Hidan picks her up and carries her in his arms the last two blocks home. He sets her down gently outside the front door, telling her how much fun she is to be with, when she throws her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard,” she says as she lets him go, wiping tears from her eyes. “Thank you.” He hesitates, then leans down and very gently kisses her cheek, before telling her that she’s welcome to hang out with him anytime, because “I’ve got a million more jokes, doll, and I’ll gladly tell ‘em all to you.” He walks her to her room and chances giving her another kiss, this one on the forehead, before bidding her Goodnight.

Obito

“Can I ask you a question?” “Yeah?” “When we’re at home, when we’re around the others, why do you wear that thing?” It’s the next day, and Konan is at a bar (ironically, the same one that Hidan wanted to take her to the previous day) with Obito. Out of everyone in the house, Obito is the one that strikes Konan as being the most mysterious. To begin with, the day she met him he was wearing a unique orange half-mask over his face ... and never took it off. She questioned Nagato about it but he seemed reluctant to speak on Obito’s unique fashion choice, and none of the others acted as though there was anything strange about it. He joined he others for dinner each night but seemed to prefer sweets to actual food, and he was quiet. Nagato told Konan that Obito was more or less his right hand man within the organization, and had helped him recruit the other members. Obito never spoke to her unless she spoke first ... so naturally she had been surprised when he approached her as she was coming out of her room, and asked if she minded joining him for “a quick drink”. The bar, like everything else, was in walking distance of the house; but Obito took her on the back of his motorcycle. It was a short ride but an exhilarating one ... and it got even more exciting when, upon entering the bar, Obito glanced around, saw there weren’t many people, and took off his mask. He found them a seat at a table near the back, and ordered them both a glass of wine. Konan had tried her hardest not to stare at his face ((which was difficult; aside from a few jagged scars on the left side and what looked like a damaged eye, he was quite handsome)) but eventually he caught her looking, hence giving her the bravery to pose her question. Obito paused for several moments, as if contemplating what to say. “Why do women wear makeup? Why do people dye their hair or get piercings or tattoos or wear crazy clothes? It’s because they have something about themselves that they don’t like, so they try to cover it up. I don’t like my face. I haven’t since my accident.” Konan blinks, genuinely surprised at Obito’s answer. She chances it to ask “Accident?” He gave her a wry smile and ordered himself a shot of whiskey (and her an ice tea) saying he needed something stronger to tell her about it. “When I was a kid, my parents liked to go rock climbing. Took me with to National parks every summer. One year my dad got drunk and took me and my mom up a dangerous path. He pulled on a rock the wrong way, and it came out of the mountain, along with a bunch more, and crashed down on us. Really long fall; mom and dad killed right away. But me ... I guess the devil decided he wasn’t done with me. A boulder crushed this entire side of my body, and my face got fucked ... but I lived. Had to go to a lot of physical therapy. Also had to go live with my uncle Madara — that guy’s a piece of work. But anyway I lived and here we are, right?” Konan is quiet for a long while, watching the ice cubes float around in her glass. “I like you like this,” she finally says, and this time she’s looking him directly in the face. “I understand if you want to be someone different, or like, if you feel like your mask makes you different, but, if you ever want to be THIS Obito ... please come to my room. We can talk, we can listen to music and eat junk and watch movies and talk about books and —“ Obito interrupts her by putting both arms around her, squeezing her warmly. “Thank you, Konan.” They stay for another few hours, and Konan is pleasantly surprised to find that Obito without the mask, Obito away from the house ... is fantastic. He teaches her how to play pool, he keeps her laughing with countless stories about growing up with his “crazy uncle”. At one point in the night he convinces her to join him at the karaoke machine on the stage, and the two sing duets of Disney songs (to the thunderous applause of the few people at the bar).The ride back home is mostly quiet, him driving slower this time and her holding on to him, each filled with their own thoughts. Before they get to the front

door, Konan lifts Obito’s mask just the slightest bit, and kisses his cheek. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long, long time. I appreciate you letting me get to know you.” He smiles and blushes, then slides the mask back into place before opening the front door. Some of the others are in the living room, and Obito quietly greets them before heading to his room. Konan was awed by how effortless the switch from animated and somewhat goofy to reserved and calm seemed to be for him ... and found herself wondering if any of the others were putting on a facade as well. She takes her shower and goes to her room, intending to go to sleep early, but after about an hour of restlessly tossing back and forth, she gives it up. She turns her light back on and picks up the remote to her tv, thinking that maybe a good, boring show will put her to sleep. But before she can find anything, a knock comes on the door. She goes to open it, and is surprised to find Obito standing there. “I saw the light underneath your door. Can I come in?” She takes him by the arm and pulls him inside. Once inside, he slides off his mask and, looking around, finds a seat for himself on one of Konan’s chairs. He opens up his jacket to reveal a small book, worn and obviously read many times. “I saw you reading this last week. I remember you telling Sasori that you finished it. I was wondering; what did you think in Chapter seven, when —“

[cttncndys]

                                   𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒...

welcome  to  impulse  records  ,  just  be  sure  to  read  the  ᶠⁱⁿᵉ  ᵖʳⁱⁿᵗ  before  signing  anything  .  each  year  impulse  signs  with  an  exclusive  number  of  bands  and  solo  artists  to  make  their  dreams  —  or  worst  nightmares  —  come  true  .  of  course  ,  when  if  you  do  fail  there  are  horror  stories  of  shredded  contracts  ,  terminated  deals  ,  less  than  stellar  touring  arrangements  ,  and  being  locked  out  of  the  building  completely  .  but  above  all  else  impulse  records  churns  out  chart  topping  artists  in  varying  genres  year  after  year  .  with  artists  under  their  label  smashing  records  and  continuing  to  solidify  themselves  as  icons  in  the  music  industry  since  1978  it’s  no  wonder  why  people  go  to  any  length  to  get  signed  .  although  ,  for  even  a  fraction  of  success  they’ll  be  pitted  against  themselves  and  each  other  .  impulse  records  is  a  beast  and  will  either  be  your  big  break  —  or  the  thing  that  breaks  you  .  here’s  one  last  welcome  from  the  team  here  at  impulse  ,  we’ll  see  how  long  you  last  .

impulse  records  is  an  original  character  discord  verse  that  revolves  around  the  lives  of  musicians  signed  under  the  iconic  record  label  impulse  records  .  the  company  is  rumored  to  do  sketchy  things  like  create  fake  relationships  among  band  members  ,  create  rumors  among  members  to  encourage  healthy  competition  ,  and  even  fire  and  replace  band  members  .  but  those  of  course  are  ‘  just  rumors  ’  .  the  verse  will  come  with  many  events  ,  plot  drops  ,  tasks  and  much  more  to  move  the  plot  along  and  help  development  of  the  characters  . 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬  :

we  (  cttncndys  &  you  )  must  be  mutuals

due  to  expected  mature  themes  all  muns  should  be  18+  and  all  muses  should  fall  between  the  ages  of  20-28

i  won’t  accept  fcs  who  wish  not  to  be  used  ,  deceased  fcs  ,  or  overly  problematic  fcs  .  you  can  come  to  me  with  a  fc  if  you’re  unsure  but  at  this  point  i’m  sure  we’re  all  aware  of  what’s  what  .

godmodding  ,  gatekeeping  ,  and  /  or  ooc  drama  will  not  be  tolerated  .

activity  will  be  fairly  lax  because  i  am  aware  we  all  have  lives  outside  of  rp  but  if  you  join  please  do  so  with  the  intent  of  being  active  in  mind  for  the  sake  of  longevity  .

this  list  isn’t  exhaustive  &  all  other  basic  rules  not  listed  still  apply  .  

this  group  is  heavily  centered  around  character  development  so  i  highly  encourage  you  bring  a  fresh  muse  .

this  group  will  be  kept  fairly  small  (  5  -  8  muns  depending  on  interest  )  but  each  application  received  will  be  considered  equally  .

all  apps  should  be  sent  to  my  sumbit  ,  although  only  the  app  is  required  feel  free  to  include  bullet  points  ,  a  playlist  ,  a  pinterest  board  ,  anything  your  heart  desires  to  help  me  get  a  better  feel  for  your  muse  ,  but  bare  in  mind  this  is  completely  optional  .

lastly  ,  have  fun  .  <3

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :

note  :  below  you’ll  find  a  list  of  bands  /  solo  artists  to  help  you  complete  the  application  .  although  the  bands  have  small  blurbs  detailing  how  each   group  is  formed  this  is  just  to  give  a  vague  idea  of  what  muse  would  fit  each  group  ,  and  any  official  backstory  is  up  to  mun  discretion  .

*  (  faceclaim  ,  age  ,  pronouns  ,  gender  )  impulse  records  is  pleased  to  announce  the  official  signing  of  first  last  the  role  in  band  /  solo  artist  to  our  prestigious  roster  .  you  probably  know  them  for  scandal.  they’ve  grown  in  recognition  due  to  positive  trait  or  actually  it  might  be  because  of  negative  trait  ,  what  a  classic  zodiac  sign  .  their  fans  tend  to  associate  them  with  3  -  5  aesthetics  .  oh  ,  impulse  records  is  going  to  eat  them  alive  .  (  ooc  name  /  alias  ,  age  ,  pronouns  ,  tmz  )

fcs  applied  for: taken  fcs:  mishti  rahman  ,  charles  melton  ,  kiana  lede  ,  luke  hemmings  ,  &  ross  lynch

𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬  :

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐢𝐥 — if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  all  -  male  band  you’d  know  they  mad  their  debut  more  recently  .  the  trio  who  have  been  friends  since  their  college  days  all  had  set  career  paths  .  but  of  course  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  ,  after  the  band  for  a  mutual  friend’s  engagement  withdrew  last  minute  ,  the  boys  who  had  all  expressed  musical  talents  separately  were  asked  to  perform  .  from  that  point  forward  ,  they  performed  small  gigs  here  and  there  to  score  some  extra  cash  .  it  wasn’t  until  they  were  offered  a  hefty  sum  of  cash  that  they  decided  to  pursue  music  full  time  and  ditch  their  days  jobs  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed.  

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count  :  vocalist  /  lead  guitarist  :  00.  vocalist  /  rhythm  guitarist  :  00. vocalist  /  drummer  :  00.  

𝐞𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 —  if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  all  -  female  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  more  recently  .  the  trio  who  have  been  friends  since  they  were  in  diapers  had  always  dreamed  of  starting  a  band  with  one  another  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  in  middle  school  the  girls  came  close  to  it  ,  but   after  a  rather  unfortunate  wardrobe  malfunction  at  a  middle  school  talent  show  nearly  axed  their  dream  completely  .  it  wouldn’t  be  until  high  school  that  they  group  rekindled  their  musical  talents  to  yet  another  talent  show  that  went  much  smoother  the  second  time  around  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  /  lead  guitarist  :  00.  vocalist  /  rhythm  guitarist  :  00. vocalist  /  drummer  :  00.  

𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 —  if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  band  you’d  know they  made  their  debut  more  recently  .  the  trio  who  attended  the  same  high  school  says  they  never  even  spoke  to  another  until  meeting  again  at  their  community  college  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  , the  group  has  an  interesting  origin  story  .  after  all  being  placed  in  the  same  introduction  to  music  theory  class  ,  and  being  told  by  their  professor  they  had  an  “  interesting  sound  ”  ,  the  trio  paired  up  out  of  pure  spite  .  they  played  countless  open  mic  nights  at  their  college  ,  and  the  surrounding  area  ,  until  they  finally  got  their  big  break  at  a  “  battle  of  the  bands  ”  competition  hosted  by  none  other  than  their  music  theory  professor  .  not  too  long  after  the  trio  dropped  out  .  they  have  been  mostly  inseparable  since  ,  if  you  ignore  the  petty  twitter  drama  between  deja  and  cash  that  is  .   and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  /  lead  guitarist  :  00.  vocalist  /  rhythm  guitarist  :  00. vocalist  /  drummer  :  00.  

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 — if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  more  recently  .  the  trio  who  met  when  they  all  attended  the  same  summer  camp  in  high  school  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  ,  the  group  all  had  a  shared  hatred  for  a  specific  camp  counselor  ,  and  came  together  to  pull  an  elaborate  prank  on  them  .  as  fate  would  have  it  ,  the  trio  found  out  they  all  attended  the  same  high  school  ,  and  from  that  moment  forward  have  been  inseparable  .  they  began  making  music  together  their  last  year  of  camp  and  begrudgingly  won  first  place  ,  an  honor  bestowed  upon  them  by  a  not  too  forgiving  camp  counselor  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  /  lead  guitarist  :  00.  vocalist  /  rhythm  guitarist  :  00. vocalist  /  drummer  :  00.  

𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐲 —  if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  way  back  in  their  college  days  .  the  quartet  who  met  at  a  charity  date  auction  for  their  college  have  quite  the  history  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  ,  the  band  has  had  a  rocky  start  given  the  problems  with  jealousy  in  the  group  and  their  trouble  with  seeing  each  other  as  anything  but  rivals  first  and  foremost  ,  despite  constant  mediation  from  managers  and  the  like  .  the  band  has  managed  to  keep  a  friendly  facade  long  enough  to  keep  a  record  deal  but  tensions  constantly  threaten  to  spill  day  by  day  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  of  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  :  00.  lead  guitarist  :  00.  rhythm  guitarist:  00.  drummer: 00.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 — if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive fan  of  the  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  way  back  in  their  high  school  days  .  the  quartet  says  that  they  had  almost  nothing  in  common  except  their  passion  for  music  ,  and  even  attribute  it  to  their  success  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  ,  the  group  have  become  inseparable  as  friends  over  time  ,  as  shown  by  their  behind  the  scene  videos  on  tours  and  concerts  alike  ,  and  for  even  further  evidence  the  four  even  went  as  far  as  too  buy  a  house  and  move  in  together  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  :  01.  lead  guitarist  :  00.  rhythm  guitarist:  00.  drummer: 00.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 —  if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  way  back  in  their  college  days  .  the  group  who  actually  met  in  the  waiting  room  of  the  dean’s  office  have  little  in  common  with  one  another  apart  from  their  love  of  music  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  the  group  has  constantly  had  to  see  each  other  as  competition  ,  vying  for  music  scholarships  and  recording  booth  time  since  their  band  came  to  fruition  ,  there  is  little  that  has  been  done  about  trying  to  salvage  group  dynamics  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  :  00.  lead  guitarist  :  00.  rhythm  guitarist:  00.  bassist: 00.  drummer: 00.  keyboardist: 00.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 — if  you’ve  only  been  a  passive  fan  of  the  band  you’d  know  they  made  their  debut  way  back  in  their  middle  school  days.  originally  a  family  band  ,  when  the  eldest  members  decided  to  leave  the  youngest  to  her  own  devices  ,  the  band  became  a  passion  project  for  a  vivacious  middle  schooler  .  but  of  course  as  any  die  hard  fan  could  tell  you  the  current  group  who  only  formed  due  to  friends  of  parents  hoping  music  would  give  their  antisocial  preteens  a  connection  to  something  bigger  than  themselves  and  interact  with  anything  outside  of  their  rooms  .  since  then  the  group  has  grown  to  be  inseparable  and  embrace  the  parts  of  them  that  made  them  unique  in  middle  school  .  and  although  there  has  been  plenty  of  speculation  over  the  years  among  fans  on  whether  any  of  the  members  are  dating  ,  nothing  has  been  publicly  confirmed  .

dynamic  :  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp.  insp. app  count :  vocalist  :  00.  lead  guitarist  :  00.  rhythm  guitarist:  00.  bassist: 00.  drummer: 00.  keyboardist: 00.

𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬  :

app  count  :  00.

[malumsmermaid]

Sweet Dream or a Beautiful Nightmare?

Happy Halloween everyone! This is the halloween event fic for the collab discord!

I chose the prompt of “Person A sells their soul to Person B, a crossroads demon,” for Mashton.

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Demon Michael x Ashton

Description: So I made this an alternate timeline. 5SOS is still 5SOS, but, they don’t really take off until after Ashton is already 18, and Ashton joins the band much earlier than Michael does, for the sake of the prompt and my plans.

Warnings: Demons, mentions of death

Event Masterlist        My Masterlist       Buy Me a Ko-Fi

Ashton took a deep breath, giving the book and bag of supplies sitting in his passenger seat an anxious glance. He’d bought the spell book from a local used bookstore months ago, assuring his two friends that it was just as a joke. This week however, curiosity and desperation took over, leading him to dig through his closet until he found the note-laden spell book, still in the bag it was placed in the day it was purchased. 

He steeled himself, grabbing the book and bag and turning off his car, climbing out and taking sure steps towards the intersection of the streets. He grabbed chalk from the plastic bag, trying not to look too long at the other ingredients for the summoning. He set the book next to him on the ground, shivering as it fell open to the exact page he needed. “Okay Ash,” he breathed, “get yourself together and let’s do it, for the boys. Six guitarists in six months is fucking ridiculous.” 

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him. 

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds. 

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world. 

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it “feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness. 

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words. 

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.” 

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed. 

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through. 

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road. 

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there. 

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight. 

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

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[artificialqueens]

She Plays Bass (Crygi) - Frankenvenus

Gigi Goode knew bassists were good with their hands, but her sister’s punk band’s bassist gave that thought an entire new meaning.

Read on Ao3

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Expression of sibling love wasn’t really Gigi Goode’s strongest point, but she admired her sister Stevie eminently. Because of their mere one year age gap, they had grown up best friends. They’d bicker on-and-off, as most sisters did, but for the most part, they were two halves of a whole.

That was until high school happened.

Gigi remembered the exact day Stevie emerged from the bathroom with silver hair and a mullet. Her mother had to stifle a scream and her father was dead silent. Gigi thought it was the coolest thing in the world, but Stevie didn’t seem to want to talk to her about it.

“Hey Stevie, do you wanna go to the cinema with me? I got tickets to see that new Tim Burton movie with the big aliens…”

“No way. It looks shitty. I’m going to a party at Nicky’s place. If mom asks where I am, tell her I’m staying over at Jackie’s for the night.”

A door was slammed on her face and it felt like her dignity was crushed with it. Little did she know, that was only the first of many slammed doors. For the next year, she wouldn’t understand what had happened to Stevie, but then she reached high school herself and it all made sense.

Gigi was quite the outcast during middle school. Her dark brown hair was frizzy and her large braces gave her a slight lisp, but when her braces were removed and she bought herself keratin treatment over summer, she went from ugly duckling to swan. The minute she stepped into her new high school with hundreds of unfamiliar faces, she was pulled into the popular group and it stayed that way.

Now it was 1998 and she was in senior year, questioning if her friends - the popular girls - were truly her friends at all. They were insolent and loud, and Gigi was constantly riddled with guilt at her passive manner towards her friends’ behaviour. She was too afraid to defend anyone they picked on, so instead, she’d slip them a discreet compliment in the middle of the hallway - only when she knew no one else was around.

Her sister was at community college right now, though still living at home. She and Gigi didn’t talk often. Their high school experiences had been so different, it was difficult to relate to one another. Stevie mastered the art of giving no fucks, but Gigi still carried herself in an untouchable princess-like way.

One thing they could relate to was their mutual lack of interest in men. Gigi was the only person in her friend group without a boyfriend, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon, despite the constant harassment from her friends Dahlia and Violet. She couldn’t help it - there was just something about the sweaty jocks that made her want to run in the opposite direction.

Stevie called herself a feminist and was very outspoken against sexism, much to their fathers dismay. The girl had recently formed a punk-rock band called ‘Lady Disciples’ with some girls from campus. Gigi hadn’t met most of them, but the group consisted of five girls; Stevie, Nicky, Crystal, Jaida and Widow.

The newly-formed band would usually practice in Nicky’s basement, however, for some reason, their usual location was out of bounds one day, and Stevie announced that they’d be temporarily moving their rehearsal spot to the Goode’s garage. Somehow, their relocation of rehearsal space prompted Stevie to believe that Gigi was now her personal servant. The older girl had requested that when the band arrived, Gigi was to bring them a bowl of chips and cans of beer. Of course, Gigi said yes, the main reason being that she was afraid to say no, but also, part of her wanted to meet Stevie’s friends that she had heard so little about.

The sudden crashing of drums from the room below indicated to Gigi that the band was now set up, which was when her sister had asked her to come downstairs and waitress. Stevie was the lead guitarist of the band, which is why when Gigi heard a complex drum solo, she knew that the other members had arrived.

For some reason, Gigi caught herself checking her own appearance before going downstairs. Her bangs were sitting just above her painted brows, shiny and perfect. Her wavy chestnut locks were thrown over each shoulder. She looked presentable - prepared to impress.

She skipped down the stairs and grabbed five beers from the freezer, wincing at the icy temperature against her warm skin. It felt slightly refreshing, though. The Missouri summer heatwave was getting to her, despite her wearing just a loose white button-up blouse tucked into brown corduroy trousers.

She placed the cans on the counter before reaching into a cupboard for a bowl and some hot Cheetos. She filled the bowl up so it was practically spilling over, before realising that she’d have to carry all five beers plus the overflowing bowl at one time. Somehow she succeeded, but as soon as she entered the busy garage, she dropped all the cans onto the couch.

“Sorry!” she squealed, before looking up at the five pairs of eyes staring at her.

A girl with short scarlet hair and piercing blue eyes - that was Nicky, a girl with a golden afro and a sparkling smile - Widow, a girl with beautiful black braids wrapped up in a bun who Gigi didn’t recognise, and then the final girl.

The final girl was perched on a stool, tuning what looked to be a bass guitar, but her eyes were fixated on Gigi. Her hair was a beautiful light shade of blue that reached just past her shoulders and her slightly large ears poked through the sides. Her skin was an olive tan, contrasting against her oversized red band tee which had been tucked into a sinfully tight pair of denim bell-bottoms.

Gigi must’ve stared at the girl for a little longer than she should have because the girl began smirking before shifting her focus back to her strings.

“This is my sister, some of you already know her,” Stevie said monotonously, handing a can of beer to each band member. “J, Crys; go ahead and introduce yourselves.”

The tall girl with the braids approached her with a warm smile, “I’m Jaida. Drummer. Genevive, right?”

“Gigi,” the brunette mumbled, shaking Jaida’s hand. The girl was threateningly beautiful, but not nearly as threatening as the blue-haired girl approaching her slowly, her high platform heels echoing across the garage.

That was until she flashed a smile, and everything about her softened. Her teeth were bright, her lips were a glittery red, and her eyes were a hypnotic umber. She took Gigi off guard by pulling her into a hug, nearly knocking all the air out of the frail brunette’s lungs.

“Gigi! I’ve heard so much about you, I’ve been dying to meet you,” she chuckled breathily, blessing Gigi with the softest voice she had ever heard, “My name is Crystal!”

The tanned girl pulled back and shook Gigi’s hand, and Gigi’s gaze remained fixated on her short, black-painted nails for a little too long.

“Uh, can we practice now?” Stevie asked, plugging her guitar into the amp and causing a slight screech noise to fill the room.

Much to Gigi’s surprise (despite everything surprising her because this insanely attractive girl had her breathless), Crystal turned to her sister with a pout.

“Can she watch us practice for a little bit?”

The brunette couldn’t understand why someone as cool as the girl in front of her would want to spend any time around her, but she was absolutely down for watching the band rehearse. Jaida positioned herself behind the large drum kit, Stevie and Widow grabbed their electric guitars, Crystal returned to her stool and strummed her bass, Nicky spoke ‘1, 2, 3’ into her microphone to assure it was working, and Gigi plopped herself onto the tatty garage couch, placing her hands in her lap and waiting for the performance to start.

And when Jaida began to play the intro beat to ‘You Oughtta Know’ by Alanis Morisette - Gigi’s secret favourite song - the brunette knew that the performance would blow her away.

Nicky’s voice was like silk, Widow’s electric guitar was remarkable and Jaida’s ability to maintain the rhythm with so much passion was insane, but Gigi couldn’t keep her eyes off Crystal. The way her lips would part as she riffed under Nicky’s vocals, gently rocking back and forth to the beat of the music made Gigi swoon. Her eyes would darken with concentration as she watched her own fingers move from string to string with such intricate movements.

When the chorus hit, Gigi felt euphoric. She wanted to get up and dance, but she was far too aware of her sister’s piercing gaze. She instead simply tapped her foot to the beat, but her beam was apparent. She hoped no one noticed the way her thighs were tightly pressed against one another as she watched Crystal flex her slender, tan fingers.

Then the second pre-chorus arrived. Everything was going great until Nicky sang the lines, “It was a slap in the face, how quickly I was replaced, and are you thinking of me when you fuck her,” because suddenly Crystal’s eyes were staring down at Gigi with a look that could only be described as lustful.

Boys had looked at Gigi in that way before - when she was dancing around on the football field in her skimpy cheerleader’s uniform - but this was so different. Sometimes Gigi questioned if, perhaps, she was attracted to girls, but that entire prospect was unknown territory to her.

But now she felt as if her entire mind was being read by the blue-haired girl’s hazel orbs, like she was reading her every racing thought. When the song ended, Gigi managed to get out a few compliments before quickly excusing herself to her bedroom.

Her head raced with many thoughts - none of which were any she’d like anyone to hear. She knew she looked at girls in a way that she had been told she shouldn’t, but she had never gone further than checking someone out. One time, in middle school, Stevie had a bunch of her friends round in the basement. Gigi spied on them, just like any curious middle schooler would, and saw two girls - Nicky and another girl she had never seen before - making out on the bean bag. The most prominent thought in her mind was ‘I want to do that,’ and she carried that thought with her to now, at age eighteen.

Now she was so uselessly pretending she didn’t like women. Whatever amount of discretion she had was now futile, considering she practically drooled over her sister’s bassist in front of four other people.

“God. I’m such a joke,” she muttered, staring at the chipped baby pink paint on her ceiling.

Part of her had just accepted that she’d have to live the rest of her life in the closet. She swore she was the only lesbian in Springfield - until she saw Crystal, that was. Crystal looked exactly like the ladies in the Blockbuster DVDs she secretly rented every so often. She had watched a lesbian movie called ‘Bound’ and often found her mind wandering back to the sexual scenarios in the film. She wanted someone to have their way with her whilst she lay back, whining uncontrollably, but she told herself that she’d take those dreams to her grave.

She was on the verge of horny tears when there was a knock at her door. She shot up and told whoever it was to come in, but not without a nervous voice crack. The door pushed open slowly, revealing her mom stood there with her usual warm smile.

“Hey, Genevive. Stevie was wondering if you could drive one of her bandmates home. One of the girls lives a couple of miles out of the city and she can’t drive herself home because she had a couple of beers. I’m really busy with a wedding dress so can you please do it? I’ll give you five dollars for it.”

Gigi thought for a second, before exhaling. A drive out of the city would be nice. She hadn’t been out all day, but the sun was bright and setting a golden hue across her street. She obliged and hopped off her bed, slipping her shoes into some scruffy Vans that were a hand-me-down from her sister - not unlike all her other clothes which she didn’t make herself.

She hopped downstairs, grabbing the car keys from the hallway table. She was about to turn around to go to the driveway when she clashed bodies with someone. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt her in any way, but it did cause her chest to erupt with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” Gigi gasped, before nearly dropping the keys on the floor. She saw the cerulean hair, the tan skin, and the red-painted smile.

“Apparently you’re my chauffeur!” Crystal winked, her voice filled with what sounded like excitement. For her age, she had the voice of a mid-pubescent boy, but Gigi couldn’t think of anything cuter.

“I am?” the brunette raised a brow before realising that Crystal was the girl she had been asked to drive home, ”Oh, I am! How far out of Springfield are you?”

“I’m just a little closer to the country - near the zoo.”

Gigi nodded before making her way out the front door, towards the black Subaru in the driveway. Thanks to the colour of the car, she practically burnt herself on the handle. Not wanting Crystal to make the same mistake, she quickly rushed over to the passenger side of the car and opened it for her.

“Wow. What a gentleman,” Crystal chuckled. Her laugh almost sounded like a cry, all breathy and quiet. The brunette wanted it on tape. She stepped into the car, leaving Gigi confused at how in-control she was of her body despite wearing huge platforms.

Gigi returned to her own side, hoping the older girl would see her blush and assume it was a sunburn. She slumped down in the driver’s seat and exhaled before starting up the ignition.

“Your shirt. It’s slipped,” Crystal said abruptly, cutting through the silence. She pointed at Gigi’s baggy button-up, which was falling down her shoulder slightly, displaying her baby blue laced bra.

“Oh. Shit,” the brunette’s face flushed crimson again as she felt the older girl’s eyes burn into her display of skin. She tried to suppress her inappropriate thoughts by beginning to drive. “You can put some music on if you want. There are some CDs under the dashboard.”

Crystal hummed softly and reached down in front of her, pulling out a sleeve of about eight CDs. After scanning over them with a captivating look of indecisiveness, she slipped one into the stereo. ‘The Boy is Mine’ by Brandy began playing quietly through the speakers, and Crystal began singing with the most off-tune, ear-splitting singing voice Gigi had ever heard.

“I see why you’re the bassist, huh?” Gigi joked, surprising herself with how nasty she sounded. “Sorry… I didn’t mean for it to sound like that-”

“Relax, princesa. You’re right.”

That was it. Gigi was nothing more than a puddle. Hearing Crystal speak Spanish almost made Gigi crash the car.

“So. You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah, but not much. It’s just kind of what I picked up from my mom. She’s Mexican. Do you speak Dutch? Stevie said you’re better at it than her.”

“Ja.” Gigi showed-off, earning a few beautiful giggles from the other girl, “I don’t speak much, but I’m learning. I think I wanna live with my family in the Netherlands, cause I heard they’re trying to pass a bill that will legalise gay marria-” Gigi cut herself off, wanting nothing more than to drive herself off a cliff.

She slowed the car down ever so slightly and caught a glimpse of Crystal’s lips in the rear view mirror, noticing the way they began to curl up into a smirk. Perhaps she dreamt it, but she swore she also saw the blue-haired girl swiftly drag her tongue over her lower lip.

“You like girls?” questioned the older girl, her voice an octave deeper than before.

Gigi somehow managed to squeak out a timid ‘mhm.’

Crystal smacked her lips together and shuffled around in her seat before saying, “Me too.”

If the brunette were in her room at that moment, she would’ve screamed into her cushion out of excitement, but instead, she did so internally. Her mind was racing once again.

Heart-shaped pillowy lips.

The gentle mole under her eye.

Faint freckles dusted across her nose.

Gigi had never seen someone quite like Crystal, and she found herself feeling disappointed when the latter was telling her to take a left as they had reached her neighbourhood.

The brunette pulled up onto the lane behind Crystal’s house, as the girl had requested. When the car stopped, the music automatically stopped, and the silence caused thick tension to bleed through the air.

Crystal was looking at her, and Gigi was looking at her own pale hands clasped around the wheel.

“Do you wanna come in?” the older girl asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Gigi responded stupidly fast, raising her gaze to meet the other girl and noticing how close their faces were.

“My guitar is kinda heavy. A second pair of hands might be helpful…”

If Gigi wasn’t so uselessly oblivious, she would’ve known it was just an excuse to spend more time with her. Either way, she would’ve said yes.

The two of them exited the car and made their way to the trunk, where Gigi carefully assisted Crystal whilst the latter lifted her bass and amplifier out. The brunette didn’t plan on locking the car, but quickly decided to do so when she was stepping into Crystal’s backyard - just in case she was in there for longer than anticipated.

The blue-haired girl’s home was filled with art. On every wall, there was a painting or sketch of some kind. She had multi-coloured lamps, disco lights, and fairy lights scattered around the place. The interior was straight out of a movie.

“Wow, it’s so cute in here!” Gigi gawked, her eyes overwhelmed with the number of bright colours surrounding her.

“Thanks! I cleaned it before I left this morning. Usually it’s a complete mess.”

Crystal led her into her bedroom which was just as Gigi had imagined it to be. There were multi-coloured tapestries pinned to each wall and the king-sized bed in the middle of the room had a large rainbow-crochet blanket thrown across it. The room smelt like peaches and weed - an odd mixture that somehow brought a lot of comfort to the brunette.

“That’s a pretty big bed you have there,” Gigi blurted, placing the amplifier down in the corner of the room. “You have a special someone you share it with?”

Crystal placed her guitar on its stand before turning to Gigi, folding her arms casually and shaking her head, “No. I just like a large, comfy bed for all the ladies I take home. I like to give them the best treatment I can, so they’re filled with regret when they run back to their boyfriends.”

Gigi felt faint once more, her breath hitching as Crystal slowly approached her, looking in her eyes like the cat who caught the canary. She watched as Crystal kicked off her shoes, going from 6’2 to 5’10 - something that would be comical to Gigi if she wasn’t soaking her underwear through.

“I saw the way you were looking at me, Geege,” she whispered, her face mere inches apart from the brunette’s, knocking the air out of the younger girl’s lungs simply with the use of a damn nickname. “I want you to tell me you want me.”

The taller girl felt her eyes water with desire. Crystal was so close - her lips could be on Gigi’s with a single movement.

“Please,” she managed to get out. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. Please.”

“Tell me how you want me,” Crystal purred.

“I want your…” Gigi blinked back tears, “I want your fingers…”

The older girl hummed, lifting her hand up to Gigi’s lips and tapping on them gently with two fingers, “Can you suck on them for me?”

Gigi nodded, parting her lips and allowing Crystal’s digits in, sucking on them gently and seductively, her eyes not leaving the older girl’s.

“So pretty, baby. Such a good girl.”

After a few seconds, Crystal withdrew her fingers before cupping the side of Gigi’s face.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice returning to it’s higher pitch. Gigi’s heart almost couldn’t handle it - Crystal actually wanted to take care of her. It was clear that the older girl didn’t see her as an easy fuck.

“It’s perfect,” she replied, finding herself being guided towards Crystal’s bed. She leaned back, hitting the blankets with a soft thud. Soon enough, Crystal was swinging a leg over her lips, straddling her in a swift motion.

And then she was leaning down, and their lips met. The tips of Gigi’s fingers brushed against Crystal’s jaw tenderly as they found a rhythm with one another. Gigi’s eyes fluttered closed and, at that moment, there was nothing else in the world except Crystal. The older girl’s plump lips pressed and pulled at her own, eliciting moans from the back of her throat. Gigi slipped a hand onto the nape of the tanned girl’s neck, pulling her in closer. Any notion of gentleness was gone.

Crystal pulled back, looking down at the brunette from her spot on her torso. Her hair was messy and her mouth was covered in red lipstick prints from Crystal’s own lips, but she looked absolutely ethereal.

“Is it okay if I take off your shirt?” Crystal asked sweetly, and Gigi nodded frantically.

After many quick pecks of the lips as they manoeuvred the way out of both their clothes, they were both completely naked, Gigi’s back against Crystal’s headboard with the latter sat in front of her on her knees.

“You have the most gorgeous body…” the older girl praised, tracing her fingers from down Gigi’s sternum down to her hips, watching the girl beneath her writhe with desperation.

Before Gigi could respond, Crystal’s plump lips latched on to one of her nipples, drawing her tongue over it slowly, triggering an orchestra of whines to fall from the former’s lips.

“Fuck, Crystal. I need you.”

“Where do you need me, baby girl?”

“Please,” Gigi cried out, “I want you to fuck me…”

Crystal smiled and began to trail her lips down Gigi’s body, softly and gently. No teeth were involved and she was barely rough enough to leave any marks. She held Gigi like a porcelain doll. Fragile. Delicate.

As Crystal was caressing her thighs, Gigi sat up slightly.

“Crystal I-” she began, but found herself trailing off.

“What’s wrong, hermosa?” Crystal pouted, pressing a quick kiss to Gigi’s forehead.

“I’ve never- I’m a virgin. I’ve never done this before… with anyone,” she stumbled, but was quick to react when Crystal began to pull her hands away slowly, “But I want you… so bad… like, I’ve never been more sure of anything. You’re so hot.”

The older girl blushed and she pressed her lips back onto Gigi’s torso, “Mi cielito. So cute. Let me make this extra good for you.”

Crystal’s lips kissed every bit of skin surrounding the place Gigi wanted her most. She was a tease, and her eyes were dark. The brunette couldn’t form words anymore - just pleasurable sounds.

Then Crystal’s tongue was on her clit and she almost screamed.

In her dreams, she had imagined a moment like this, but she thought she would die with that fantasy. Never would she have believed that she would get to experience it, and never did she think it would feel this good.

Crystal ate pussy like it was her job, lapping her tongue and coaxing more whines out of the girl beneath her. Gigi was leaking so profoundly, and combined with how Crystal herself was salivating, she knew the sheets would need to be thoroughly cleaned afterwards. The brunette’s back was arched and she clenched her thighs whilst Crystal swirled her tongue over her opening and began to edge the tip in.

“Fuck… Crystal…” Gigi’s hand was now in Crystal’s hair, tugging on the blue locks like they were her lifeline. She thanked the heavens that the older woman lived alone and not in an apartment, because Gigi was loud - something which she had just learned about herself that day.

Suddenly, Crystal pulled back, and Gigi moaned at the loss of contact. She needed it. She was beginning to get closer to her climax - she could feel it in the bottom of her stomach.

“Why did you- fuck,” she couldn’t finish her sentence because Crystal had pushed a finger inside of her and began to thrust at a steady pace.

“You like that, huh?” Crystal grunted, leaning over Gigi and admiring the younger girl’s large brown eyes, plump lips, high cheekbones and perfect nose, “Look at you. So beautiful. Eres la chica más bonita con la que me he acostado. Eres perfecta.”

Something about Crystal’s foreign tongue drew Gigi even closer to orgasm. She begged for Crystal to go faster, and she did exactly that. Her fingers pounded into her, shaking her whole slender frame with the intensity of Crystal’s digits. Gigi feels like butter in the older girl’s hands.

“Crystal I- I’m gonna- I’m about to-” she choked out.

“Cum for me, mi niña.”

The brunette’s jaw went slack and her lips parted, a whine leaving her as Crystal pressed their lips together again. Crystal’s fingers flexed inside her, and she moaned, swearing she was able to see stars behind her eyelids as pleasure surged all over her body - like blissful electrocution. Her hips buckled below the tanned girl, and Crystal fucked her through her orgasm until she couldn’t take anymore.

“Holy fuck,” Gigi whispered, her eyes still shut as she collapsed down on Crystal’s bed.

Crystal swung her leg off her torso and lay down beside her, “Was that a satisfactory first time?”

“Mhm. Better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

The older girl hummed a response, and they both lay there, completely naked.

“I feel like an absolute state,” Gigi blushed, turning her head to look at Crystal with a soft smile.

“You wanna eat me out in the shower?” Crystal asked nonchalantly.

“Yes.”

.

TRANSLATIONS

princesa - princess hermosa - beautiful mi cielito - my sky eres la chica más bonita con la que me he acostado. eres perfecta. - you are the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid with (fucked.) you’re perfect. mi niña - my girl

[doomedandstoned]

In Conversation with KOMATSU

~By Willem Verhappen~

Photo by Patrick Spruytenburg

For the past decade or so, super massive mothersludgers KOMATSU have been crushing eardrums and bulldozing down venues all around the world. While early releases of the Eindhoven, the Netherlands based band, like their 2011 self-titled EP and 'Manu Armata' (2013 - Suburban Records), display a relentless combination of stonerized sludge that lives up to the band's name, Komatsu always kept evolving and expanding their sound.

Their latest record, 'Rose of Jericho' (2021 - Heavy Psych Records), is on the one hand a natural successor to 2018's 'A New Horizon' (Argonauta Records), but surprisingly also introduces the listener to a more rocking side of the band. I had the chance to sit down with vocalist/guitarist Mo Truijens and guitarist Mathijs Bodt and after some chit-chat, we went to talk about the new record, the impact of the COVID-19 crisis and much more.

KOMATSU - Rose Of Jericho by HEAVY PSYCH SOUNDS Records

Last year, I was in contact with your bass-player, Martijn Mansvelders, and he told me you were impacted pretty bad by the corona measures.

Mathijs: Indeed. Our entire planning basically went down the drain. It started with the last bits of our recording process. We started recording during Carnaval [the end of February] at the Anker Studio in Eindhoven with Peter van Elderen (TankZilla, formerly of Peter Pan Speedrock). Things went very well and we were just at the point where we could start recording the vocals when COVID hit. Usually, there's always one of us present to oversee the process, but that wasn't allowed. After that you get into the mixing process, where usually the entire band is involved and in the studio. As you can imagine, that didn't go through.

Mo: In this case, it was mostly just me who was there. Also because we still had to do the vocals and the mixing of the vocals.

Mathijs: Right, and we got the mix-downs sent to us after which we had to write down and send in our comments. That took a bit longer than expected, but it worked out nice.But like you said, we had planned to release the record during the summer, do a Brazilian tour in September, followed by a release show, here in Eindhoven at the Effenaar. After that we were going to do a two-week tour through Europe. Initially the release show was planned for October 15th, but that got postponed until January, then early February, then the end of February, then the 12th of June, but thanks to the test events we can finally present our record, which was released in February, on the 25th of April.

Mo: What's nice is that this is certain. We don't know whether we'd be allowed to play on June 12th, but April 25th is certain. We found that we couldn't keep on postponing the date, so we decided that if we couldn't play then, there wouldn't be a release show. You can imagine that we're in a rush now with rehearsals, because we were thinking "soon", but now it's happening "very soon".

Mathijs: You have a point there. You're saying we rehearsed a bit, but we couldn't rehearse in our own rehearsal room. Even with the 1.5 meter distance and a face-mask, we weren't allowed to be in there with four people. I believe we've only had 6 rehearsals.

Mo: The good thing is that we're allowed to rehearse now, because currently we're a performing act. I've checked it with the authorities and it's allowed.

You already mentioned that Peter van Elderen produced the record. What was his influence on the process?

Mo: He has a good view on songs and regarding the vocals, while I had rough ideas, he really helped me improve them. He was a great help.

Mathijs: Of course we also have quite a history with Peter. Mo and Peter used to play in Repomen together and I used to be a roadie for Peter Pan. We know him through things like PopEI, Speedfest, Peter Pan, Repomen.

Mo: The circle is complete, so to say. And Pieter [Kloos] eventually did the mastering. It doesn't get more Eindhoven than that.

Mathijs: We recorded the previous two records with Pieter. That worked out great, but for this one, we wanted to try something different. Not because it didn't work out with Pieter, but we just wanted to try something different this time. Peter was heavily involved from the start and he joined our rehearsals and such. We recorded the record in just over a day and a half. Everything is live, with some guitar overdubs added afterwards.

Mo: We finished those overdubs just before the lock-down started, so all the music was recorded.

Mathijs: I think we spent three, three and a half days on the music, so that was a relatively quick process.

The album title, 'Rose of Jericho' (2021), is a symbol of resurrection. I can imagine that relates directly to your new sound.

Mo: Yes, there is certainly more variation and dynamics on the record.

Mathijs: The rose of Jericho, or resurrection plant, is a plant that can go without water for ten, fifteen years. When it receives water it pops back up as a flower. That concept really spoke to us, and that's why the instrumental title track has a bit of a western feel to it.

Mo: We really went for the desert atmosphere on that one. You can almost see the tumbleweed pass by during the intro. The track was originally meant to be called "Tumbleweed," but then I found out that Candybar Planet already has a song called "Tumbleweed." I still liked the desert idea, and eventually we renamed the track "Rose of Jericho."

Can we expect anything special for the release show?

Mo: We'll be playing all the tracks of the record live. In the past that wasn't always the case. I think a lot of these tracks will remain in our set. Of course we will revise our set when we're playing a real metal festival. We'll probably be playing more of our old stuff then, although the roughness is still there in the new tracks.

Mathijs: At some point you're starting to weigh your choices while writing songs. We want to be able to play them live, because we're still first and foremost a live band. That's where we really shine. This was also a period of reflection and we figured that we had fifty tracks on four records. You start listening to them in a different way and you come to the conclusion that we already have so many hard songs.

Mo: Martijn often says things like "This is a quiet song," but a quiet Komatsu song is still far from a quiet song.

Mathijs: We didn't plan on changing our style. It came together in quite an organic way, as a result of playing live, rehearsing and recording. The COVID period was also quite interesting in that regard, because Mo and I never stopped writing music, and we're currently at the point where we could start arranging songs for the next record.

'Rose of Jericho' is your first record on Heavy Psych Sounds. How did that collaboration come about?

Mo: Gabriele [Fiori] arranged a couple of tours for us, like the ones with Nick Oliveri and Duel.

Mathijs: The first tour after I joined the band was the one with Mondo Generator and he arranged the one with the Freeks, featuring Ruben Romano of Nebula and Fu Manchu. So we were already in contact and at some point we just called him.

Mo: Yeah, that was for the previous record, but for that one we ended up at Argonauta. Now we all just said, let's just do it.

Mathijs: It's really cool to be part of a roster like that, to be part of such a stoner family. Gabriele, one of the two people running HPS, also plays in Black Rainbows and to see how involved in the scene he is and what he does for the scene, to be a part of that is just amazing. We already had the connection through the stages we shared and the tours he arranged for us and this is just the next step. It's not the most logical step, but try and find a label where we perfectly fit in with our distinctive sound.

Mo: When we write music, we don't try to fit in the stoner, the metal, or whatever group. We just make the music we like. We don't have any rules from ourselves, telling us what we can and can't do.

Mathijs: In the end we just make the music the four band members like to make.

Photo by Patrick Spruytenburg

About that, what are your main influences?

Mo: The Melvins is a favorite of mine, especially their quirkiness. Of course there's a lot of stoner bands, but my roots are within 80's hardcore punk music. Due to the whole COVID thing I started collecting records again. I bought a new record player and now I'm searching Discogs for vinyl of records I used to love and used to have on cassette.

Mathijs: I think that I'm the biggest metalhead in the band. You [Mo] are the punk rocker, Martijn is the new-waver, even though he's also into old school hip-hop, and Jos [Roosen, drums]is a Tool fan and he used to play in Dreadlock Pussy. He and I went to the 25th anniversary show of Machine Head's 'Burn My Eyes' together. He's into that as well. He's also really into metal, but also bands like Helmet. I have quite a broad taste. I'm really into Cannibal Corpse, but I also like the Melvins. I actually met Mo at a Melvins show and a week later I got a call on whether I would like to join his band. The Black Sabbath influence is also clearly present on Rose of Jericho. That first riff is basically a Sabbath riff.

Mo: Sabbath is the mother of all metal bands. I saw Blue Cheer live at Roadburn once. It's slightly different, but from the same period, I think. Absolutely brilliant. They did an interview for the Top-2000 once, where they were still living in a house together, blowing and making music.

Mathijs: I also really like those genre-crossing bands, like High on Fire. They're metal, but also have stoner elements, together with some psych and some rock.

Mo: When I used to play in punk bands, there were set rules, but now I can do whatever I like.

Last question, did you guys discover any new music you're really into?

Mo: Absolutely, they've been around for a while already, but I recently discovered Helms Alee. They're a man and two women and they all sing. When they sing together it's just amazing. Mathijs also got me into Made Out of Babies, featuring Julie Christmas. I'm usually not a fan of female singers, but this is something else.

Mathijs: Yeah, I showed you the record she did with Cult of Luna. That's such an amazing record. Recently I've been listening a lot to a Finnish band called Oranssi Pazuzu, especially their latest record 'Mestarin kynsi'. There are so many different elements in there, it's really cool.

Mo: Recently I bought two Floor records. They've got three records, one that sounds like shit and two that are amazing. I got those on vinyl.

Mathijs: I'm also looking forward to the new Mastodon record. They made a record with the guy who produced the best Tool records and they say it will be far more sludgey, slow and doomy than their previous works.

The curfew is rapidly approaching, so I think it's time to wrap up. Thank you for this interview.

Mo: Thank you and see you later. Maybe later tonight in prison if we don't hurry up.

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[toglidethroughlife]

Brighter Than Any Star:

An intimate look at everyone’s new favorite bass player

(or the blades band au that nobody asked for)

*inspired by @iaraiumi‘s STUNNING guitarist tyril art (here)

tyril-centric and tyril x mc bc this would be 7k+ words if i didn’t focus on just one of them but i tried to give everyone a moment in the spotlight. credits to a fic i read from the 100 fandom years ago for the format

used my f!elf mc ryllea graywater for this (though i guess this is kind of a modern au idk asjdla); also i don’t play any musical instruments i’m sorry in advance for butchering any of the technical parts 😬

Tyril Starfury — with his red silk shirts and slicked back hair — looks every bit the part of a rock god on stage with the rest of BLADES; but here, in the confines of their tour bus, he is a quiet presence, calmly sipping tea in the corner with a notepad and pen in his hands, his mind far away in the early hours of the morning.

If you had told me eighteen months ago that I would be shadowing Broadway darling Tyril Starfury as he traveled cross-country with his new rock band, I would have laughed and called you preposterous.

And yet, here I am, witness to the madness.

Nia Ellarious, the band’s youngest member and resident pianist, offers me a cup of the same tea as Starfury’s, telling me to enjoy the quiet with an almost apologetic smile.

I understand what she means not long after.

(There’s no such thing as a quiet morning in the world of Mal Volari.)

Every bit as charming and flamboyant as his on-stage persona, Volari greets the entire bus a good morning with flourish, throwing both me and Ellarious a magnetic smile before slipping towards the coffee machine with exceptionally light feet. (More on that later.) He taps on every available surface while he waits for his coffee to brew, humming softly as if figuring out a melody right there on the spot.

If Starfury is bothered by Volari’s banging and humming, he makes no show of it, paying him no mind as he continues to scribble in his notepad.

Ellarious beams as the scene plays out in front of her. “It’s not every day that they don’t get on each other’s nerves,” she explains. “Especially in the morning.”

It’s around this time — almost noon now — that Ryllea Graywater, lead guitarist and vocalist, wakes and joins the group, heading straight towards Volari and the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Thanks,” she winks as she takes the cup from him, shooting Volari a shit-eating grin that he returns easily, already procuring another cup for himself.

It should be noted that Graywater doesn’t seem to talk to anyone until she’s had at least one cup of coffee, choosing instead to slide in beside Starfury in the dining booth, eyes darting towards the notepad he’s writing on. They kind of just... sit there, minding their own business amidst the chaos that is the rest of the bus.

(Volari’s launched into an animated story about the inspiration behind last year’s summer hit, “Contessa, Contessa”, but I can’t help being drawn to the more quiet story unfolding behind him in the dining booth.)

Slinging one arm against the backrest of Starfury’s seat, Graywater casually invites herself into his space, a thoughtful smile on her lips as she looks over the notepad in his hand. There’s an openness between them that tells me that this isn’t a new occurrence, a comfortable ease in the way they seem to be engaging in a wordless conversation.

“He’s kind of really private,” I recall the younger Starfury sibling, Adrina, telling me about his creative process years ago, at the release party for his collab album with then rumored girlfriend and writing partner Kaya Duskraven. “He’s always been a perfectionist. Doesn’t really let anyone other than Kaya hear anything until it’s finished.”

But there’s no trace of that here, in this quiet moment with Graywater, bright, almost triumphant smiles on their faces as she picks up a pen and scribbles something on the pad too, immediately tapping out a melody against the table as if to test-run it by Starfury.

The smile he gives her is glowing.

I look away — suddenly feeling like an intruder in their private moment — catching the tail-end of Volari’s Contessa story, right before Imtura (no publicly released surname) accidentally slams me against the wall when the bus makes a rocky turn.

“Oof, sorry there little guy.” She raises both hands in apology before heading straight for the coffee machine, haphazardly dumping its contents into a generous-sized mug before immediately proceeding to consume said coffee as she plunks onto the other end of the dining booth.

And that’s how the first morning of me shadowing BLADES goes.

Ellarious tells me I’m lucky it was a good one.

-

With over 16 years of experience under his belt, Tyril Starfury has been in the music and entertainment industry far longer than the rest of the BLADES members combined. At the tender age of nine, he won his first piano competition, regarded highly for his precision at such a young age. He would continue to play competitively until he discovers a new love — musical theater.

It’s no surprise that Starfury ends up on Broadway — he comes from a long line of revered artists, all of them regarded as geniuses of their time. Though some would argue that his family name opened doors that would otherwise be unavailable, no one could deny that it was his clear, soaring baritone and unrelenting work ethic that kept him on stage.

It’s on this stage that he met young Kaya Duskraven, an understudy in one of his shows, prompting a fruitful five-year partnership spanning two EPs and a mini-concert series, Stars in the Dusk.

(The name was a little on the nose, but the critics loved them all the same.)

The two shared such a comfortable rapport, on and off-stage, that they naturally sparked dating rumors — Starfury was always quick to deny them.

No one could have expected the partnership to end on such a bitter note.

To this day, no one knows the real reason behind their fallout — Starfury walked out in the middle of their televised performance without apology or explanation — though there have been no shortage of rumors and theories, a lot of them involving one Eleryn Rosecoven, better known in the industry as Shadow Court bassist dXenia.

I tried to bring it up once, after several bottles of beer have been consumed and the band is swapping stories over s’mores made over the tour bus stove.

I’ve never been shut out so fast in my life.

There’s an audible crack from the s’more now crushed in Imtura’s hand, her piercing amber eyes seemingly driving a death sentence into mine. Volari sighs disapprovingly (and dramatically) at me, and even Ellarious — friendly, cheery Nia — looks at me with a pointed glare, turning off the stove, signaling the end of s’mores night.

“I would prefer not to comment,” Starfury nods at me, years of practiced courtesy showing in his tone and all I want in that moment is for the earth to swallow me whole.

Graywater follows when he excuses himself from the group. Everyone else avoids me like the plague.

It’s hours later when Starfury and Graywater return to the bus — I pretend to have fallen asleep in the dining booth in hopes that I can avoid their fury until the morning — but Graywater approaches me with two cups of tea in hand, an unreadable expression on her face.

She slides over one cup to me — if the scalding temperature of the tea is intentional, she makes no obvious show of it.

“Look,” she begins with an exasperated sigh. “I know you’re only doing your job here. And we did agree to this article, so I’m sorry if things got a little tense back there.” She pauses, as if considering her next words carefully. “We’ve all lived moments in our lives that we’re not proud of. Tyril’s had to live his in front of the public eye. He’ll talk about it when he feels ready to... but his past doesn’t define him, none of ours do.”

I nod, understanding that this is the last we’ll speak of the subject. She smiles as if in truce, telling me that I don’t have to banish myself to the dining booth and that no one will pull any pranks on me if I sleep in the shared bedroom.

I barely catch any sleep anyway.

There’s a ferocity in the way they protect each other that I didn’t notice at first — it could be subtle sometimes, like in the way Volari always checks in with each of the band members every night before going to bed (even though Starfury usually brushes him off); or in the way Imtura always makes sure every one stays hydrated (feel free to interpret that however you wish, whichever way is true); or in the way Ellarious always has some form of baked good running in the oven, more often someone else’s favorite rather than her own.

(I learn the hard way that no one is allowed to get in between Imtura and her cupcakes. No one.)

It’s also plain as day whenever they’re on stage together, their set list a carefully curated show that highlights each member’s strengths without anyone getting overworked. Everyone’s always quick to catch each other whenever they hit snags along the road — there’s a moment in one of the shows when Volari’s mic suddenly gets cut off and Starfury swoops in without missing a beat, a small nod of the former’s head seemingly the only cue he needs, the trust between them implicit.

When I had asked earlier why he’d joined BLADES, Starfury simply shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

“It was by accident. I happened to be at one of their shows and they needed a bass player. We kind of just… worked and we’ve played together ever since.”

But this kind of chemistry doesn’t just happen by accident. No, this is the product of months and months of hard work, of opinions clashing and arguments spanning days before sitting down and realizing it’s not impossible to see eye to eye; it’s battles won and battles lost together, respect earned and trust merited.

To call them just another band seems too small a word almost. Insufficient.

They’re kind of like a family.

(If your typical family involved regular knife and axe-throwing contests, that is.

... it’s best not to ask.)

-

Tensions are high backstage at Deadwood Festival Grounds.

Volari has been pacing around non-stop. Ellarious looks like she’s using every bit of her willpower not to bite her fingernails. Imtura keeps violently tapping her drumsticks together. Starfury’s got his arms crossed in a corner, brows furrowed.

Graywater is doing a handstand for no apparent reason.

The anxiety is understandable — tonight’s a crucial moment for the band.

With only one more show before the grand finale at Whitetower Stadium, all the bands are doing their best to retain the crowd’s favor, each playing well-established fan favorites, saving the riskier song choices for the finale.

That is, everyone except BLADES.

They’re planning to debut two new songs tonight, both of which written solely by Starfury.

It’s a ballsy move on its own — no one’s exactly itching to drop the ball on their fans this close to the end — but add in the fact that Starfury hasn’t released any solo-written music since the Duskraven fallout and you’ve got the makings of a battle that could either go incredibly right or disastrously wrong.

Let’s back up a bit.

After the Duskraven breakup, Starfury had gone into something of a hiatus (if that’s what you call disappearing off the face of the entertainment industry) before dropping the 13-track self-written album, “Honor,” without prior notice or promotion. Fans were ecstatic to hear from him after his sudden break, but critics were less enthused, calling the album ‘a brash, arrogant attempt at flipping the metaphorical finger at Duskraven that ultimately falls short’, noting the clear absence of Duskraven’s touch in his music — all technicality, no soul.

Starfury’s penned a couple of songs with BLADES since, spanning genres as colorful and diverse as its writers, but there hasn’t been a solo venture since Honor, leaving long-time Starfury fans anxious to hear him take lead again.

Graywater calls everyone into a circle, locking eyes with Starfury as she gives his hand a squeeze.

She makes a speech that I‘m not privy to — but everyone is visibly more resolute after she speaks, each raising their fists to meet in the middle of the circle.

“I’m honored to be on this journey with you all,” I hear Starfury share, a glittering smile spreading on Volari’s lips at the statement.

“I knew you liked us!” he says, crossing the circle to throw an arm around Starfury’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Group hug!” Ellarious laughs and Imtura closes the circle into a solid embrace.

Starfury appears to be in shock — as if this is the first time this has happened — but he recovers quickly, a quietly contented smile on his face.

The last streaks of daylight have disappeared by the time they’re called to stage, the crowd restless from a long afternoon under the blistering heat.

Darkness has fallen.

But then the opening chords to fan-favorite “Murderous Masquerade” cut through the evening air, a flurry of flashing lights bursting through the sky, and the Deadwood comes alive.

Volari takes center stage in his flashy black and gold ensemble, working the crowd with such ease that it’s no question why he’s been dubbed the band’s de facto showman — he’s frankly just mesmerizing to watch.

Next up is “The Priestess and the Warrior,” an epic tale crammed into four and a half minutes of heart-racing drum beats — provided by the insanely talented Imtura — with a tender piano-driven bridge near the close, Ellarious’ heartbreaking vocals driving the whole thing home.

Graywater takes lead in the third number, “Flirting with Monsters,” a delicate neo R&B number that sounds nothing like the title suggests, her earnest, airy vocals lulling you into a comfortable, almost dream-like state as she entices her lover to stay.

The one thing common between the seemingly weird mishmash of genres is Starfury’s steady bassline, providing a much needed thread of cohesion to the set list. Where Volari, Imtura, Graywater, and even Ellarious tackle their music with the raw aggression of fresh blood on stage, Starfury attacks with quiet, seasoned finesse, his expertise evident in tracks like “Watch your back (or I’ll watch it for you)” and “Drakna Queen” — two unconventionally energetic numbers that would be difficult to listen to live if not for Starfury’s sure hand bringing them harmony.

“Alright, we’re gonna slow things down for a bit,” Graywater announces, eyes sparkling with excitement as she looks at Starfury. “Tyril’s got a new song and we want you guys to be the first to hear it.”

By now, I’ve seen enough of Starfury’s performances to say that he’s not a nervous performer. Even in the earlier stages of his career, there was always a quiet assuredness about him — which could have also been easily called arrogance — and while that’s still present now, there’s something different about the way he interacts with the crowd, a sense of humility present in the way he put his hands together and gives them a brief bow before he sits himself in front of the piano.

“I would like to dedicate this to a person very special to me,” he begins, his fingers gentle on the keys, a soft, lilting melody dancing in the air.

(He’s not even the least bit subtle about the way he looks at Graywater.)

“She has reminded me, time and again, that hope and love, when we allow it, can shine the brightest light in the dark.” Graywater shakes her head as if to shrug in nonchalance, but she meets his eyes dead on, her smile beaming with pride.

Turning to the crowd, Starfury adds, “I hope this gives you as much joy as you’ve given me. This one’s called ‘Kilvali.’”

For the next minute, it’s just Starfury and the piano, the world quiet as his voice fills the air. If there was ever any doubt that Starfury had lost his vocal prowess, there wouldn’t be any now. His voice is clear and strong — reaching even the farthest row of people on the music grounds — albeit with a softness now that I’ve never heard from him before, his attachment to his music feeling infinitely more personal.

“All my moments with you are worth whatever pain that came before,” he sings, his voice soaring as the rest of the band join him in the second verse. The performance is even more powerful with the added instrumentation.

Tiny cellphone flashlights illuminate the crowd as they sway their hands in time to the song, the emotion in Starfury’s voice rolling out in waves.

Twitter user @notmxwllbmnt13 sums it up nicely:

SJSKJSJSK TYRIL STARFURY KILLED ME TONIGHT!! ALL!! THE!! FEELS!!

(It really was beautiful.)

The crowd cheers as the song draws to a close, but the battle’s not over yet (as Starfury would tell me himself later) — the true test lying in whether or not his second song proves a testament to his newfound voice in songwriting… or if it’s just a one-time stroke of luck.

“If it’s alright with you, we’d like to play you another new one,” he says and the applause is deafening when he turns over the mic to Volari, the latter pulling him into a one-armed hug before taking to the crowd.

If Duskraven’s interviews post-breakup are to be believed, Starfury has never — not once — written a song that wasn’t intended for himself. (She claimed to have co-written plenty of solos for Starfury, but he allegedly never returned the favor.) A quick glance at his repertoire would make this allegation appear true.

“It is true,” he tells me simply when I bring it up later in the tour bus. (Despite the coolness of his voice, I notice him shift a little in his seat.) “I was... unconfident, extending my words to other artists like that. I was also prideful and arrogant — afraid to face the judgment and criticism of my peers, and for that, I truly am sorry to Kaya. She deserved better from me as a partner.”

It seems Starfury has taken that incident to heart. Listening to “Purple Dreams” with Volari’s teasing falsetto on the forefront, it becomes clear that Starfury wrote this with the former’s vocals in mind, the flirtatious mix of his sassy vocal riffs and playful onstage antics giving the song a delicious, intoxicating energy.

It’s probably the most experimental I’ve heard from Starfury as a writer, both in terms of lyricism and melody.

“I’ve learned a lot this last year, creating music with BLADES,” he explains. “Not only did I find a new perspective on songwriting thanks to them, but my bandmates also gave me the courage to try things outside of my comfort zone and to allow myself to make mistakes. They inspire me.”

Years ago, he was dubbed as stiff and awkward outside of the theater stage, with Duskraven providing all the charm in their partnership, but now, on stage with BLADES — as Volari points his sultry gaze at him, singing his own lyrics to him — Starfury smirks, leaning ever so slightly against the showman as his hands tease along the guitar strings, driving the crowd wild.

It’s clear by the end of the song that Starfury has won over the crowd, and for once, he actually seems to revel in it, his smile beaming as he takes in the applause.

The rest of the band are even more thrilled for him, each leaving their posts to engulf him in another hug.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, allowing the fond gesture in front of their adoring crowd, each of them savoring the quiet moment, and I think, out of all the times I’ve seen Starfury on stage, this has to be my favorite version of him.

In the company of his friends, lifting and supporting each other, Tyril Starfury shines brighter than any star.

“We haven’t talked about what we’re doing after yet,” Starfury admits when I ask him about the future of BLADES after Morella Fest. (Each of the members are also solo artists in their own right, after all.) “But whatever happens at the end of the tour, we’ll always have each other, regardless of whether the band continues or not. I can’t imagine my life without these people now and I hope I never have to.”

He’s smiling as he says this, watching his bandmates fight over the last levenfruit before he excuses himself to join them, Graywater and Ellarious easily making space for him in the dining booth, Volari and Imtura rounding out the little world that now seems completely their own.

-

This article also appears in BLADES: The Most Ambitious Crossover Event in Morella Music History. You can find the full feature on www - kadethebard - com.

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tagging: @sophie-summer ✨