#concerts and gigs and musicals and street musicians are all part of it

[hopeofitalll]

Live music is the reason all of us are in earth together I think

[fbfh]

loded diper's new guitarist hcs

pairing: loded diper (ben, chris, ward, and rodrick) + reader, future rodrick x (gn) reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: unsupportive parents, country music, reader has a younger sister and another sibling greg and manny's ages, mentions of making out, one use of the phrase hooking up but like in the vague sense yk, second hand embarrasment (showing up to a rock audition dressed like a country music star), all of them think you're really hot

a/n: welcome to more fics that are from my scripts lmao,, rodrick deserves more love tbh

also imagining this during the audition

tags: @yesv01 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit

You love music

You've loved singing and performing in any way shape or form that you possibly can since you were a baby

You know in your heart and soul, with every fiber of your being that you're going to be performing in the music industry someday

You don't know when

You might not even know specifically what you'll be doing

But you know deep in your bones that you'll be on stage belting your heart out

That's all you know and that's all you care about 

Your career planning teachers HATE you

They hate that you refuse to consider a backup plan

You know that's probably smart for other people, but you don't need a backup plan

You’re going to be on stage, singing and performing

Your family thinks you're crazy

They think you're delusional, that you're going to get torn to shreds by the real world 

Every "be realistic", every "and how's that going to work out?", every eye roll and shared look when you tell them you got a new instrument or are going to practice your guitar hurts

Of course it would

But more importantly it's more and more people to prove wrong 

You have a list of what achievements your parents feel need to be met to have made it as a successful musician 

They were trying to give you a wake up call about how hard it is to make it in the industry 

You drew little check boxes next to each line and have it hanging on your wall in between band posters and concert tickets

Every jab from someone that should have your back is one more name on that list of people to prove wrong 

It's strangely motivating 

The most frustrating part of all this is that no one sees how hard you work for this 

You've taken every gig, every odd job that involves singing and music and performing that you can find

You've dressed up as various popular characters and lead karaoke and sing alongs at kids parties, been a tooth fairy's assistant at a kindergarten, a keyboard playing mascot at a car dealership, and most recently, a tribute act to a famous country star performing at retirement homes 

Seniors in plainview really like country music for some reason

Once word got around, at least twice a week you get all dressed up in the polar opposite of your usual self

Down to a cow print cowboy hat, garish boots, and a rhinestone fringe denim jacket 

You whip out your acoustic guitar and sing some hits from the 60s and 70s to the seniors there who tell you that you have such a nice voice, why aren't all kids your age like this, back in my day etc etc

And a lot of them tip really, really well

So even though it’s not something you’d normally even consider, it’s a gig

It’s a paying gig

Which makes you a professional musician

So you’ll happily take it

Your parents have been talking about moving to another part of town for a while, and after months of looking, finally found a nice place on Surrey Street 

The only problem is you would be in a different school district, and have to transfer to Crossland high which has the most shitty theatre and arts programs ever

Which makes it a hard no from you

Your younger siblings aren't to happy about it either, but are very quickly won over by the idea of having their own rooms, leaving you out voted

You had even tried to bribe the youngest by letting him touch your guitar, something he always tries to do as soon as your back is turned, but it was already decided 

The only way they got you on board at all was with the (very reluctant) promise of guaranteed practice space in the attic and slightly less babysitting duty

Right before the move, you're at a gig at a retirement home 

Leisure something? Towers, village, something like that 

It's closer to where you're moving, so that’s something

Part way through your set, you're very thrown off guard by the surprisingly hot piece of ass that's a dead ringer for Billie Joe Armstrong watching you play at the back of the room

He and a kid that looks around the same age as your sister are standing next to one of the older guys

Mr. Heff-something? 

You can't remember

But goddamn that guy is hot 

By the time your set is finally done, you thank them with your signature twang that you spent hours perfecting in your room

You watched interviews of country singers for a week straight until you got it perfectly right 

The hot guy and leaves with who you're assuming are his brother and grandpa before you can even consider approaching him and your heart sinks a little

You’re thinking maybe there will be some hot guys at Crossland, even though your hopes aren’t high

On your way out, you see a blue piece of paper on one of the coffee tables towards the back of the room you’d been playing in

You pick it up and your heart starts pounding

Wanted: gutarist for a rock band. Must know how to shread.

You skim the rest of the flier

You’re so excited you don’t even notice the glaring typos scattered across the page

A rock band

You were finally going to be able to audition for a rock band

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t freaking out 

But the auditions are at the end of the week

And you have a gig that day

You type the addresses into your phone

It’s only a few blocks down the street from your new house

If you get the timing right, you should be able to get home and change out of your country music getup, then make it there before auditions are over

That also means you’re going to have like, no time to prepare

The next three days are spent practicing nonstop

Much to your family’s dismay

Your little sister barges into your room, hands over her ears

She’s never been shy about her disdain for your beloved rock and pop punk music 

“I have a spelling bee tomorrow.” she states

“Sick,” you reply, not looking away from what you’re doing

“I have to focus!” she says

“Same!” you reply, tone sarcastically chipper

“I can’t focus with all this racket.” 

You toss her a pair of headphones and go back to playing

She leaves with a scoff

She’s always been very straight laced and rule oriented

You have always been the “rules are meant to be broken” type

You do not see eye to eye at all

You never really have

This week is jam packed for you

You have to finish packing everything up because you’re finally moving into your new house, you have a gig at the end of the week, and that audition the same day

You can totally handle this

You can so totally handle this

That’s what you tell yourself as you scramble out to your car after your gig, which has somehow run tremendously late 

You barely manage to make it to 12 surrey street, grabbing your guitar and scrambling towards the garage, where the audition flier is taped

“I’m telling you man, no one’s going to show. Let’s just call it-” 

“Hi, is this the guitarist audition for the rock band?” You ask

Four punky looking guys stand in the garage you just entered, all eyes on you

One is holding a bass, one’s next to a mic, one of them is wearing a t shirt that says “loded diper", and one is standing in front of a well loved drum kit

You recognize the last one as the hot guy from your last gig, and your heart flip flops in your chest

“...yeah.” the hot guy says

You introduce yourself, rambling a little about how much you love music and how long you’ve been playing

They don’t seem sold

“Can you shred?” hot guy asks

“Yeah, totally.” you state

The guy next to the mic says something quietly to the hot guy and he shrugs

“Show us what you got.” 

A few minutes later, you’ve played your way through some pop punk classics and a few personal favorite riffs and guitar solos 

Watching their jaws drop when you nailed the guitar solo in I’d hate to be you by mayday parade was something you really enjoyed  

They’re stunned as you finally finish playing, and let out a satisfied sigh

“Told you I could shred.” 

Honestly, Rodrick was sold on you when he saw you playing guitar at his grandpa’s retirement home

He had no idea how you’d gotten a flier, he figures one fell out of his bag or something

And now he’s thanking a god he’s not sure he believes in that it did

That it brought you here

Because you are exactly what they need

He shares a look with Chris, Ben, and Ward

There’s no way they can turn your down

And not just because you’re the only person who showed up to the audition

You’re amazing

Ben sighs

“I mean, we’ll need to do something about the look, but-” 

“Oh god no,” you interject, “I don’t normally look like this. It’s for a gig.” 

After some introductions and exchanging numbers, you’re ready to meet up for practice twice a week 

You smile, elated that it went this well in spite of the bumps in the road along the way 

You thank them again before you leave 

They watch you exit the garage and get into your car, letting out a muffled cheer before heading out

“...Okay,” Rodrick starts, “new rule - no dating band members. No matter how hot they are.” He mutters the last part, and everyone very, very reluctantly agrees

Are you the hottest person he’s seen in a very long time? Yes!

Are you the best guitarist in plainview hands down? Fuck yeah!

Is your hotness amplified by how excited you are to be in loded diper in spite of their terrible reputation? Abso-fucking-lutley! 

But Rodrick won’t let anything jeopardize the future of this band 

He knows all the guys think you’re hot

Like really hot 

So if they can navigate this

If they can write some more songs and book a few more gigs without anyone hooking up  or making out with anyone else (cough cough with you) he’ll consider that a huge success

Lying in bed that night, Rodrick decides there’s no way you can be hot enough to break the no dating band members rule 

That decision is challenged when you show up to practice in grungy eyeliner and a worn ramones t shirt 

And it’s challenged further when you start playing together because jesus fucking christ you’re good

You’re exactly what this band needs, he reminds himself 

The band needs a guitarist, not their guitarist and drummer making out in secret 

But with the way you’re looking at Rodrick, watching him play, the feeling is mutual

And it’s a matter of time before the rising tension becomes too much and someone cracks 

Because not only do you get to be in a band, you get to be in a band with a stupid hot guy that looks like the pop punk star you’ve had a crush on since middle school

This won’t be a recipe for disaster

Not at all

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for overwriting all of this guy's violin training videos with footage of myself?

Bear with me here, babes. I (30sM) am an accomplished performer and jazz musician, and I recently moved to a new town as part of my new day job. And things have been going swell so far! I got myself a nice little place in the Brass and Shipping District, I work in the mornings, I perform in the evenings- it's a nice little gig, if I do say so myself!

The only problem is, my new neighbors seem to hate me for some reason? Like, there's this guy on the same street who I heard's positively seething at me, an out-for-my-blood type beat. I mean, I did break in and overwrite all of his video cassettes with footage of my handsome, sparkling mug, but the video cassettes had- what? Only violin instructional videos on them? That kind of song is boring! Nobody's into that! He should be grateful, if anything- everything I do creates its own kind of music! If nothing else, it's because my teeth are quite literally piano keys.

I am still somewhat concerned, however. He's complained to enough people that I've received somewhat of a negative press with my close neighbors, and this reputation is beginning to spread out of my local neighborhood. I don't want my neighbors to have a bad impression of me - I want them to come and enjoy my performances the same as anyone else! Everybody's welcome to attend and intermingle at my concerts, and I do mean everybody! And because of this, I'm starting to think my actions were too rash and may drive down my attendance numbers. AITA?

EDIT: I may also have stolen several of my neighbor's musical instruments to use in my jazz performances. This incident is completely unrelated and I am confident it has not also negatively impacted my reputation in any way whatsoever.

EDIT EDIT: Okay, it might have. But what am I supposed to do?! Not many people from my home country manufacture instruments, and none of the local shopspeople are willing to sell to me!

[musicarenagh]

These Streetlights' By Mercurius Would Guide You Back Home Get ready to groove to the beats of love with Mercurius, the dynamic father and son duo from the UK. Their latest release, "Streetlights," is making waves in the music scene, and we're here to dive into its soulful vibes. "Streetlights" isn't just your average love song. It's a journey illuminated by the glow of street lamps, guiding lovers home to each other's arms. With its blend of progressive and classic rock, this track is like a warm embrace on a chilly night. Clocking in at a whopping six minutes, "Streetlights" isn't in a hurry to end the magic. It's a duet between two souls yearning to reunite after a long day's work. And guess what? They've got the talented Jasmine Crichton on board to add her own touch of magic to the mix. We're chatting with James and Paul Brown, the masterminds behind Mercurius, to uncover the inspiration behind "Streetlights" and what makes their music so darn special. From their past hits like "Make a Difference" to their latest gem, Mercurius is all about spreading warmth and meaning through their tunes. Join us as we delve into the heart of "Streetlights" and discover why Mercurius is a name you'll want to remember. It's time to let the music light up your soul! Listen to Streetlights below https://open.spotify.com/track/14JG5g7gB2kXexJvWL9Cgx Follow Mercurius on Spotify Facebook Instagram What is your stage name Mercurius Is there a story behind your stage name? We wanted to distance ourselves from our original name James & Paul as we wanted to be seen to be more of a band than a duo. Mercurius is a Roman god and seemed like a cool name Where do you find inspiration? We take inspiration from artists who have achieved success without compromising like band such as Radiohead, Muse etc. We like to think we're the same although you need to be careful as it's so easy for other bands tunes and melodies to fester in your subconscious. Lyrically themes can range from current affairs, past wars, to love and family What was the role of music in the early years of your life? Music can be uplifting, depressing, motivational etc etc. It has always been important in our lives Are you from a musical or artistic family? There are some musicians in the family but no one of note. There was a grandad who used to play piano all night in pubs and would be paid in alcohol throughout the night. I always wondered what he would have sounded like by closing time! Who inspired you to be a part of the music industry? The attraction of doing something you love as a job (we still work so obviously haven't achieved this yet) [caption id="attachment_54302" align="alignnone" width="1440"] The attraction of doing something you love as a job[/caption] How did you learn to sing/write/to play? James has had guitar lessons but Paul is self taught. James has always had a great singing voice What was the first concert that you ever went to and who did you see perform? James isn't one for seeing other bands perform. Paul's first gig was U2 and The Comsat Angels at the Mayfair in Newcastle How could you describe your music? Uplifting (usually), original, mass appeal. Paul's songs are guitar driven while James's are vocally driven Describe your creative process. Basically this is to mess around on the guitar until you play something and you think hold on I like this. The song just grows from there What is your main inspiration? The guitar, mostly originating on the acoustic What musician do you admire most and why? As above, we admire bands who haven't had to compromise their music. Radiohead are the standout band in that respect Did your style evolve since the beginning of your career? James's original taste in music was hard core dance so you could say he's evolved quite a bit, although he's always been a fan of artists with great harmonies like Simon and Garfunkel. We've become a lot more confident in our music since we've had an albeit small amount of success. We also now have a regular routine in the studio which helps

Who do you see as your main competitor? We don't really see other bands as competitors. We're all in this together What are your interests outside of music? James runs a gym in Newcastle and so is very into his fitness. We're both massive Newcastle United fans. Paul also keeps fit through boxing training, running etc If it wasn't a music career, what would you be doing? What we're doing now which is James in his gym and Paul in his accountancy practice What is the biggest problem you have encountered in the journey of music? Spotify royalties are pitiful and should be looked into but they appear to be too powerful to be questioned about this. Coming from the North East is also an obstacle for anyone wanting a music career although Sam Fender has hopefully helped with this. Neputism is also a massive problem in the music industry If you could change one thing in the music industry, what would it be? Grants to young kids starting out so they can afford decent guitars and amps etc Why did you choose this as the title of this project? Streetlights is James's song which has a simple theme about coming home to your loved ones https://open.spotify.com/artist/5WJc2Akz6lLwSnEnAFdzL1?si=qJbSO4jUT1-19NWtItnTJg What are your plans for the coming months? We have 4 or 5 amazing tracks we want to get recorded before August then, if these have been received well, put a proper band together to do some gigs Do you have any artistic collaboration plans We get asked all the time but it's really hard to fit extra projects in at the minute. James has a friend who is doing quite well in the dance scene so we're always up for seeing what he can do with our songs What message would you like to give to your fans? Please support us by downloading our songs which in turn means we will be driven to go on the road where you will be able to see us perform live

[davidisen]

Music Safari: New Braunfels TX, February, 2024!

I hadn't seen the Choro das 3 sisters for several months and I was missing them. They were playing in New Braunfels TX, about an hour south of Austin, on Friday, February 2, and I hadda be there.

The gig was produced and hosted by monster piano player Bill McNally, who teaches in the music department at Texas State University in New Braunfels. Last summer, Bill showed up at my place in Woods Hole at the suggestion of fellow ragtime piano monster, Dalton Ridenhour, to play the Steinway in my house that was rebuilt from the soundboard out by piano genius David Stanwood. The above shows Corina, from Choro das 3, and Bill McNally, playing a piece by Ernesto Nazareth.

Here's Corina, Bill and Elisa.

On Saturday, Bill took us to the monthly meeting of the San Antonio Ragtime Society. A half dozen members took turns, each playing a ragtime piece. So much talent! Of special note (pardon pun), the kid on the left played the first part of The Entertainer with courage and promise. Also, the fellow in the white jacket, fourth from right, is Michael Chisholm, who was greeted by members of the Ragtime Society members as a prodigal son. He had just returned from seven years in California. He played several ragtime compositions with world-class talent and feeling.

The choro sisters wowed the audience of talented musicians! The members of the Ragtime Society totally got the "family resemblance" between ragtime and chorinho.

The San Antonio Ragtime Society met at the Steinway Gallery in north San Antonio. So many pianos! Front to back, that's Elisa, Corina and Lia of Choro das 3.

A trip down Steinway Street . . .

On Saturday, we all went to the New Braunfels farmer's market. Lia, and the sisters' dog Bibi, each got new hats.

The New Braunfels area was settled by German immigrants in the late 1800s, and the town remembers. The culture is apparent in the food and the music. At Krausés restaurant, which seems to be at the center of the culture, in the center of town, we found this accordion duet - Glynis and Walt Harfmann - to provide polkas and waltzes as we had lunch.

On Saturday evening, we discovered a house concert, hosted by Jean Wilson, starring singer-songwriter C. Daniel Boling. Daniel is a great song writer (who collaborates a lot with Tom Paxton). His songs reminded me of Bill Staines and Chuck McCabe, with a dose of John Prine mixed in. He was a good musician, and a charming performer. I was smiling all night long. The sisters' English is good enough for them to appreciate the subtle crafting of the lyrics, and even the double-entendres. Jean was a great host, the lake behind the house was lovely and the whole experience was entirely delightful.

It was time for me to go to the airport, but first, a group picture. That's Corina, Elisa, me, Lia and Cristina (the mom). And their RV. We didn't say goodbye, we said, "Até a próxima!"

[yourtemponashville]

Tips for Taking Care of Your Instruments While on the Road

Summer travel season is upon us, which means making to-do lists and packing suitcases in anticipation of a weekend getaway or a more extended vacation. We carefully fold clothing and ensure that all toiletries are closed and secure. These might be typical tasks for the basic traveler, but a concert booking agency knows that summer means something entirely different for touring musicians and bands.

After a rather long pandemic-related hiatus, music touring around the United States and internationally is in full swing. It is important to remember that touring is work and not a vacation. Traveling from one location and venue to the next is hard on musicians and their instruments, especially in different climates and environments. Tour management can convey to musicians and bands some best practices for caring for instruments while on tour. Music business software solutions allow for combining innovations in touring logistics and practical instrument care advice to launch successfully managed events.  

Down the Street and Around the World 

Whether a gig is in your neighborhood or a continent away does not matter. All musical instruments require expert care, so they always function at peak performance.  

Making a Case for Cases 

It is important to invest in a proper case. A sturdy, hardshell case is essential for protecting your instruments while traveling. Have you ever seen airline employees handling your luggage? Now imagine them handling the most expensive investment in your craft. Various kinds of cases are available, but hard-sided cases can withstand the bumps, jostling, and drops that can occur when moving them from place to place. 

Make sure cases are also well-padded inside as an added layer of protection during transport. Look for cases specifically designed for your type of instrument and consider investing in cases with TSA-approved locks. And for additional security, ensure that all cases have identification tags with contact details in situations of loss or damage. 

The Art of Proper Packing 

It is fair to say we all know that one person can pack everything they need in a suitcase with room to spare or fit everything into a car like a jigsaw puzzle. These same skills should be applied to packing musical instruments. When packing instruments for traveling one day or an extended tour, make sure they are secured inside the case. Remove any detachable parts or accessories that might prevent a tight fit and wrap them separately in bubble wrap or cloth. It is also important not to overpack cases as this may place undue stress on the instruments leading to damage.      

It is Not Always a Dry Heat 

Fluctuations in temperature and humidity can damage instruments, especially when changes are extreme. Your tour management should conduct a little research on the average climate and weather of the locations on your tour. Instruments must avoid extreme temperature and humidity conditions to maintain their musical integrity. Avoid direct sunlight and contact with water. Storing and traveling with instruments in a climate-controlled environment is preferable whenever possible.   

Now It is a Dry Heat 

When addressing the high temperatures in states like Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada, we often hear climate observations about it being "a dry heat." Well, dry heat is still heat and can wreak havoc on musical instruments. Just like extreme humidity can cause damage, no moisture can also cause problems. Consider using a humidifier to keep instruments from drying out. This is an especially critical best practice for wood instruments like guitars, upright basses, and violins.  

Squeaky Clean and Damage-Free 

Regularly cleaning your instrument can help prevent damage and prolong its lifespan. During a summer tour, cleaning should be a regular part of your instrument maintenance to avoid problems before they occur and correct any damage that may be found. Use lint-free cloths to wipe down instruments before and after each use, and always avoid using any harsh chemicals or abrasive materials. 

While cleaning your instruments, check for signs of any damage that may have occurred during transport. Look for cracks, scratches, warping, loose strings, and broken drumheads. Address issues immediately to avoid further damage and to prevent problems from interfering with the quality of the live performance.

Your Voice is an Instrument Too 

While most of us think about safely transporting instruments like guitars, basses, violins, drums, and pianos, it is crucial to include an instrument that sometimes may be ignored- your singing voice. It can be delicate and fragile, thus requiring some extra care to keep it ready for every note. It is important to stay hydrated by drinking a lot of water and avoiding caffeine which can cause dehydration. Other bad habits affecting vocal quality should be avoided, like smoking and drinking alcohol. Warm up your voice before a performance, just like you would stretch your muscles before exercising. Try to avoid misusing your voice by excessive talking or yelling. Finally, it is essential to rest your body from head to toe, which will, in turn, protect your voice.    

Fine-Tuning Instrument Care 

Your artist booking agency or concert booking agency can assist musicians and bands with practical information to keep instruments sounding fantastic and a long-awaited summer tour to proceed smoothly. Instrument care requires a little extra effort, but it is well worth it to protect your investment and ensure high-quality performance.

For More Information visit us: Tips for Taking Care of Your Instruments While on the Road

[hammondcast]

Lee Oskar Special Guest Jon Hammond Funk Unit White Onions

#WATCHMOVIE HERE: Lee Oskar Special Guest Jon Hammond Funk Unit White Onions 

Jon's archive https://archive.org/details/lee-oskar-special-guest-jon-hammond-funk-unit-white-onions  

Youtube https://youtu.be/GZ2MLuketNU 

FB https://fb.watch/j-MMgSffwe/ 

Lee Oskar Special Guest Jon Hammond Funk Unit White Onions

by

 Jon Hammond 

 Thanks god main man Chuggy Carter Leslie J. Carter came out again to play our 2023 NAMM Show Kickoff concert - Chuggy's been playing on my band faithfully since August of 1989, he knows my music in his sleep and always has my back! Congas and Percussion Master! I have always been a fan of Chuggy Carter's playing, we finally got to start working together when I got a 5-nighter at NY's premier live music restaurant club Mikell's on Colombus Avenue & 97th Street - I had my 1959 Hammond B3 there, on the band then: Bernard Purdie, Alex Foster, Barry Finnerty, Chuggy and myself at the B3 - the club was full of great musicians including the late greats Hugh Masekela, Cornell Dupree

(Cornell sat in with us) and that was the beginning of a longtime great association and besides being one of the best congueros, Chuggy is a great friend above and beyond the call of duty on a gig! Chuggy plays GON BOPS instuments for some years now - but he can make the groove on everything and anything including a chair or even with just his hands - thank you Chuggy!! - Jon Hammond - Jon Hammond Band - Jon Hammond Organ Group

#chuggycarter

#gonbops

#congas

#percussion

#conguero

#friends

Soundchecking 2023 NAMM Show still no drummer Thursday morning Kickoff concert Joe Berger strapped in to his favorite TV Jones pickup tester guitar, Marc Baum fully prepared always tenor saxophone Selmer MK VI, Chuggy Carter Leslie J. Carter congas & percussion, and yours truly Jon Hammond at the Sk1 Hammond organ - all have our band shirts on ready to go - thanks cats! And Avante Audio crew Tony Mirador mixing - Jon Hammond

Jon Hammond Band

#nammshow2023

#nammshow

Arena Plaza Stage - thanks stage sponsors ADJ Lighting & Shure

Jon Hammond Funk Unit - Jon Hammond Band

"The Music Begins Here" 2023 NAMM Show

And my band had the honor of being first band up last week, playing for everybody as the doors opened Thursday 13th of April 9:45AM - 10:40AM in the Anaheim Convention Center Arena Plaza Stage 

Jon Hammond

"The FINGERS...are The SINGERS!"™ https://www.namm.org/.../2023/session/jon-hammond-funk-unit

"Jon Hammond Funk Unit

Jon Hammond Band - Jon Hammond Organ Group

#nammshow2023

#nammshow

#music

#musicbeginshere

#anaheim

#internationalmusiccommunity

First time cooking on electric range - a little different than gas stove! But it's OK - my cooking repertoire is very limited - Jon Hammond

#electricrange

#egginthenest

#electricstove

#egg

Old guy egg quota for the day/week down the ol' hatch! - JH

Giovanni Totò Gulino!

Giovanni Totò Gulino

nptorsoSde0l61mse2f5M8 7ryAYda0t321e0h7thtuhm4a 82 h:t16au5i  · 

One t-shirt 

 is in my car 

  My friend Jeanne O'Keefe Lippin Group with Jon Hammond in a very special part of the NAMM Show!

#nammshow2023

#nammshow

#friends

Wow, 2 very special longtime friends of mine here with me - these gentlemen are the most important people in the NAMM Show organization - since 1976 NAMM Floor manager John Riddle and secret agent Tom Pistone!! - thanks for all you do, Jon Hammond

NAMM Show

#friends

Jon: very special friend Chuck Surack, we tried to get him to sit in with my band on tenor saxophone for 2023 NAMM Show Kickoff, but of course Chuck too busy with constant meetings - founder of Sweetwater folks!

#sweetwater #sweetwatermusicalinstruments #ChuckSurack

"Chuck Surack is an American entrepreneur, businessman, philanthropist, and musician, best known as the founder of Sweetwater Sound, a leading retailer of musical instruments and professional audio equipment.

Surack was born in Waverly, Ohio, his family later relocating to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Surack was active in the Boy Scouts,[3] and attended Wayne High School, where he played saxophone in the school's marching band. Following high school, Surack toured with a band as a saxophone player and keyboardist.[4] In 1979 Surack decided to stop touring, and returned to his hometown of Fort Wayne, where he has continued to work as a musician to the present day, playing saxophone and keyboard as part of two bands, Prime Time[5] and the Sweetwater All Stars.[6] Upon settling back in Fort Wayne in 1979, Surack created a mobile 4-track recording studio within his Volkswagen Bus.

Reverend Jimmie Smith & Jon HammondHammond Organ USA#hammondorgan#nammshow 

Jon Hammond & main man Brian Larsen Gator Cases!

2023 NAMM Show

#GatorCases

#nammshow

#2023namm

Big Big Thank you to all the folks who came out to join us for our 2023 NAMM Show Kickoff concert today! And our stage sponsors, ADJ Lighting & Shure - Jon Hammond Band / Jon Hammond Funk Unit - and our special guest Lee Oskar

Joe Berger guitar

Chuggy Carter congas & percussion

Marc Baum tenor saxophone

Nic Kubes drums

Jon Hammond organ / bass

#funkmusic

#2023namm

#nammshow

#rhythmsection

#LeeOskar

#tenorsaxophone

#electricguitar

Amazing clip Lee Oskar Special Guest Jon Hammond Funk Unit White Onions - we were finishing sound check, I looked around and surprise! Lee Oskar showed up and lit up the Arena Plaza Bandstand Stage with my band Jon Hammond Funk Unit for 2023 NAMM Show Kickoff Concert! Thank you Lee & Tetsuo Manchero Mano san! This my composition "White Onions" I love to play with Lee - special friends great musicians L to R Joe Berger playing the famous guitar from TV Jones, Marc Baum tenor saxophonist my longtimest friend since 1958, 

- Chuggy Carter Leslie J. Carter congas + percussion came in from New Jersey we go way back to when I had a band with Chuggy and Bernard Purdie (Nic Kubes drums) - yours truly Jon Hammond at the organ - thank you Namm Bands Team, Odie de la Fuente Avante Akroz Audio team, Mark 'Stage Dad' Magill, Ken Freeman, Brian Larsen Gator Cases, stage sponsors ADJ Lighting & Shure, Hammond Organ USA #hammondorgan #harmonica#LeeOskar #onions #nammshow #concert #anaheim

Main man Ray Gerlich long-time Hammond Organ USA Technical Manager, thanks for best support Ray! - Jon Hammond

Suzuki Musical Instruments

#hammondorgan

Amazing clip, Lee Oskar, Harmonica, Drums, Onions, Hammond organ, saxophone, electric guitar, drums, percussion, Namm Show, Anaheim, Sound Check

Amazing clip, Lee Oskar, Harmonica, Drums, Onions, Hammond organ, saxophone, electric guitar, drums, percussion, Namm Show, Anaheim, Sound Check

[greysbible]

Just dance 2020 aanbieding

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Within just over a year, I had I won the London Music Award for ‘Best Undiscovered Talent,’ The Guardian’s ‘Future Music Award’ and released my first independent single, ‘Follow You Home.’īRIT was such a unique experience. I spent four years studying music alongside regularly gigging, performing or recording after school and on weekends. The following year I was lucky enough to be accepted to The BRIT School. But crucially, I found the self-confidence that I needed to continue. Not only because I went on to win the contest that year, but I also met lots of other talented musicians, many of whom I still work with regularly to this day. It was all very new to me and I’m so glad I took part. This was the first time I had ever performed my original music outside of school concerts, and there I was, playing to the streets of London. Nine years ago, I entered a performance contest in London called GIGS: Big Busk.

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As I was only 11 years old at the time, the songs were mostly about movie stars I admired, but I knew then that I wanted to continue writing songs and develop my music.Īt just 22, you've achieved a lot of success. I switched to an acoustic guitar and began to write my own songs. I remember the very first time I heard Taylor Swift – I was in complete awe of her ability to narrate through lyric and song.

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From the age of five, I learned how to play classical guitar and began training in musical theater. Music and performance have always been a really big part of my life. When did you discover your spark for music and songwriting? NATALIE SHAY, an indie pop artist and guitarist from London, shares her experiences as a female singer-songwriter and provides some tips for young newcomers looking to break into the music industry.

Uncharted-Nathan Drake Coll.Natalie Shay on Writing Songs in a Changing Music Industry.

Trollhunters Defenders of Arcadia: 27,98.

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PS4 Slim 500GB+Hits Horizon Zero Dawn+Spider-man: 289,00.

Niet alleen games zijn tijdelijk flink in prijs verlaagd maar ook consoles en accessoires waaronder headsets en controllers.ĭit zijn alle Black Friday-aanbiedingen van de Game Mania: Consoles Ook de Game Mania is begonnen met een flinke Black Friday-uitverkoop.

[sunarintoes]

Pretty Setter Squad Boyfriend Headcanons

part one can be found here II wc: 2.4k II includes: kageyama, suga, kenma, akaashi, semi and oikawa II atsumu and shirabu 

rewriting because i cringe at the old hcs 😭

✗ Kagggggsss

✗ The emotionally constipated blueberry <3 oh yeahh 😎

✗ Okay well first off he can barely process his emotions (*cough* evidently *cough*)

✗ When you two first started going out he was quite shy and unsure of what to do so you may have had to guide him a bit, but if youre equally shy then it just would have taken longer to get to where you are now; oh and if that was the case it probably took some random burst of energy/confidence from either one of you to make the first move. 

✗ He will buy you milk but uf you hate it (like me 🤢) he will buy you another drink - like juice :D

✗ I dont think he will be the most affectionate, it’s not his love language - and neither are words haHAH. His love language is most likely quality time and gift giving.

✗ He does like to cuddle though 😳

✗ In fact he really likes to :D his favourite is when youre sitting in his lap while he watches a volleyball game (at home - he hates pda). 

✗ This brings us to our next, short point. Kageyama absolutely despises pda, he just thinks its something meant for closed doors and he does not believe that he has to display his relationship for the whole world to ogle at. The most he will do is light hand holding - mostly just linking your pinkies though.

✗ When it comes to height he does not care if you're smaller or taller than him ← but bb, please don't tease him about his height if he’s shorter because he will blow a fuse.

✗ He alternates between small spoon and big spoon, kinda depending on his mood. 

✗ BOY O BOY does he get jealous. Uh please reign in your setter >:( 

✗ Its mostly due to the fact that he’s insecure about himself - he thinks you will leave him like everyone else (in middle school - yes, he is still traumatised from it.)

✗ When he does get jealous he might be snappy to the other person and glare at them or be snappy at you and glare at you. When this happens please give him space because he needs it to clear his head. When he feels better he will come up to you and hug you into his chest so that he can’t see your face and you cant see his, then he will mumble an apology.

✗ Ever since you two began to date he has practiced apologising and getting better at apologising, this is because his inability to admit to his own mistakes was a sour patch in your relationship that almost ended it but he really did not want to lose you so he sucked up his pride and worked on what he had to; of course you also worked in what you had to. God I love character development 😩

✗ Dates are mostly at home dates or dates revolving around volleyball. If you're not into volleyball, Kageyama would not date you, it's something he is so passionate about and loves with every breath he takes (like you) and he refuses to compromise one love for the other. 

✗ ooooh he likes arcade dates a well! He thrives in a competitive environment. If you're not competitive and don't want to compete against him then he’ll compete for you - against the machines lol. Of course you play as well! But i doubt youre as competitive as this blueberry, and if you are - well i guess at the end of the day youll both be stacked in tokens 🤠

✗ Sugawara my beloved <33

✗ He. Is. So. Affectionate! 

✗ Mans loves skin on skin contact ykwim?

✗ He is down for pda and does not care what others think - only what you think <3. 

✗ I mean he might make out with you in public if you ask nicely 

✗ Dates are very fun with him, he’ll take you to cafes, to amusement parks, to carnivals, to movies and all the like. He’s a cliche lover and he’s proud of it.

✗ Your first kiss happened on New Years Eve/Day. The two of you sat on the roof of his house and watched as the fireworks lit up the starry sky of Miyagi and chanted the count down together. The second ‘one’ left your lips he grabbed your face (softly!!) and pulled you in to crash his lips against yours. 

✗ Suga loves to cuddle, preferably face to face because he just thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. 

✗ He is not the most jealous person, he definitely does get jealous but never of strangers. It's more when his close friends or your close friends get a bit too comfortable if that makes sense? He normally plays it off with humour and messes around because he acknowledges that he is insecure and that it is most likely him thinking of the worst case scenario; however if he really does start to worry and get jealous then he will sit you down and talk about it with you. To him, communication is key. 

✗ Ngl Kenma is definitely in my top 3 favourites. 

✗ I may or may not be a Kenma kinnie 😳🙈

✗ i love my non-toxic gamer boy <33 anywho: no matter what ANYONE says, kenma is definitely affectionate. In fact I'd say he’s one of the most affectionate boyfriends. As we all know, he is shy and introverted but he likes to hang around and spend time with people he likes. He also talks a lot to them. So I hc that he’s a bit of a chatterbox with you and it makes him really happy when you let him talk about a game or a theory he has. He’s a great listener so you can count on him to pay attention to what you say.

✗ if you didn't already have one, he bought you a switch. He loves video game dates especially when he can't see you in person (*cough* lockdown *cough*) 

✗ he loves when you sit on his lap when he plays video games. I know everyone talks about sitting on their partner’s lap as some sexual thing and yeah that can happen but most of the time he’s really soft with you and just enjoys being close to you. Loves when you cuddle into him while he plays so that he can place his head on yours or your shoulder. 

✗ i think he is a bit shy when it comes to kisses but definitely warms up after a while. He absolutely refuses to sleep if he doesnt get your goodnight kisses. He loves to kiss you on your nose and your cheeks the most. He loves when you kiss him on the forehead and the nose <3

✗ kenma is not one for pda, it's just not his vibe. He prefers intimacy and privacy; his relationship is not a movie for the world to watch and gawk at. Especially timeskip!kenma. Though that does not mean he wont ever show you skinship in public, occasionally he will softly hold your hand and maybe press a light kiss to your cheek. 

✗ in terms of jealousy, he is moderate. Kenma, as we all know, has incredible people reading skills, so he understands the situation pretty clearly and knows when you’re uncomfortable/what you think of the situation. Most of the time you can deal with the unwanted attention and he doesnt get jealous, but he does get insecure. He shows this by going quiet and looking away when you look at him, you can cure this by giving him hugs when you get home. 

✗ Akaashi my beloved <3 he’s so pretty i can't even-

✗ ugh! Just imagine him in a dark/light academia aesthetic. 

✗ perfection. 

✗ akaashi is the sweetest most attentive boyfriend, he loves you to pieces and never fails to let you know. He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He probably makes meals for you and leaves notes in that have a sweet comment like “i love you, you're the best <3” 

✗ he love back hugging you BUT also receiving back hugs 🥺✨

✗ akaashi is a booknerd and an introvert. Please cuddle up to him and let him read his book to you. 

✗ there are only 2 things that can restore his social battery: sleeping and you.

✗ which means he wants cuddles when he’s tired 😊

✗ he is not jealous. He just doesn't get jealous, maybe annoyed if the third party is being a bit too pushy and you're clearly uncomfortable, but he just never feels jealous. No matter how hard you may try to make him jealous (plz dont cause that's kinda toxic imo) he just won't feel that way.

✗ definitely the ‘mom/dad’ as he carries sinister, pads, bandaids → a whole first aid kit basically, everywhere. Bb must be prepared. 

✗ dates are so sweet with him, cute niche cafes and dimly lit libraries. Maybe the occasional abandoned building. He loves spending time with you, so really he's happiest whenever he’s with you; having coffee at McDonalds or a niche cafe won't change anything. 

✗ he’s hard to pinpoint for pda. I feel like he’s indifferent about it. He probably prefers to keep it indoors or to just small and sweet gestures (no making out in public sorry-). It definitely comes down to your preferences, if you don't like it then he won't and vice versa.

✗ semi semi semi semi semi semi

✗ omg mr musician 

✗ he definitely plays guitar - lead guitar and bass guitar. 

✗ skilled fingies for sure 😗

✗ boy why are musicians so hot???? 😫😫😫💦💦

✗ he writes songs about you. Semsem has a bit of trouble saying exactly how he feels, so he writes it and sings it to you with a small little smile and eyes full of love. 

✗ off topic but Semu has the best music taste in haikyuu

✗ he loves hugs so much <33 please hug and cuddle with him 24/7

✗ very affectionate, he’s always touching you someway. Loves kissing your forehead. 

✗ he is jealous. Yeah definitely. He writes songs about being jealous 🗿 not that you mind of course ‘cause they're bangers. I think he might get snappy when he’s jealous, not directly at you but at the other person. He definitely gets a bit bitchy. Sometimes he acts that way to you so you've just gotta slap some sense into him. Say something like “what's your problem?” or “tell me what your problem is so i can help fix it.” ← that's probably the best thing to say. 

✗ afterwards he’ll just snuggle with you until he feels better. 

✗ he asks for your opinion about his songs all the time, please be honest (but also praise them if you like them lol)

✗ he takes you to niche spots he finds, like hidden concerts and stuff. Loves when you come to his gigs <3 oh and when you scream for him (in more ways than one). 

✗ dates are cute and fun. Mostly walking around together → carnivals, main street, farmers market. Those kind of things. 

✗ when it comes to pda he loves it. Loves being able to show the world who his s/o is. If you don't like it then he will tone it down and only do what you’re comfortable with. If you're also into pda then he will happily make out with you anywhere (you're one of THOSE couples 🤢 /j) 

✗ all round best boyfie <3

✗ oikawa 😳 have i told y'all how much i love him? Oikawa is the best written character, no cap, he is so complex and real it's crazy. It's so fun to write about him because you can pick him apart, you know his flaws, his weaknesses, his nightmares but also his strengths and dreams. Anywho i'll stop ranting now but i just love writing for such a perfectly imperfect character-

✗ he puts up a cocky exterior but thats all false. He's as scared as you are, he's scared that you'll leave him like his exes because of how obsessed and focused he is on volleyball. However he is a changed man, he's learned to balance his priorities. If you ever feel like you're being sidelined please communicate with him. 

✗ he values communication above all else and wants nothing more in a partner than for them to also value communication.

✗ back to the point → if you feel insecure of your relationship and that volleyball is taking too much of his attention let him know. He will change that. To an extent → he may have an important game coming up which is why he is focusing more, but he will always find time for you. 

✗ he never forgets to text you good morning and good night. He also sends you wholesome memes and makes sure you're taking care of yourself - they're like reminders for him to also take care of himself. 

✗ he is both jealous and insecure. Everyone who gets too close to you or spends a lot of time with you, he is jealous of. Jealous because he wishes he could spend more time with you but he knows he can't - not without jeopardising his volleyball career. He's also insecure, because he knows you could just leave him for a more fulfilling, more attentive, more balanced relationship. You know that too, I mean, of course you could leave him but no one would be as good as him. No one could match up to your beautifully flawed boyfriend.

✗ he is affectionate, very, very affectionate. He loves you so much. And because he spends so much time on volleyball, anytime with you he's touching you - memorizing every dint, every curve, everything about you so that he won't ever forget. 

✗ Oikawa has trouble sleeping unless he's with you, he wants to sling to you in his sleep and be grounded and remember that he is loved and cherished and appreciated y'know?

✗ pda is not an issue for him. He doesn't care what anyone else says or thinks :P in this relationship the only opinions that matter are his and your’s. Tell him you're uncomfortable with something and he won't do it, and vice versa. But otherwise, like Semi, he won't mind having a good makeout session with you in the middle of the street ;)

[outofsstyles]

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

 A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan​ for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it. 

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange. 

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright. 

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room.  She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

 “It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

 “Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.  

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street. 

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave. 

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar.  Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations. 

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often. 

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time. 

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space. 

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night. 

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it. 

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying  “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless. 

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset.  “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands. 

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it. 

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill. 

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light. 

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up,  “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,” 

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you. 

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

 “You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

 “Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice. 

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over. 

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

 A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love. 

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration. 

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was. 

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip.  “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

 “I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

 “You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass.  “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?” 

 “Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction. 

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows.  “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it,  “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time. 

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind. 

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

 Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin. 

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet. 

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system” 

“You mean getting a degree?” 

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s” 

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.” 

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her. 

“Yes.” 

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—” 

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room. 

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair. 

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest. 

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.  

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.” 

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open. 

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’.  He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth. 

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it. 

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of  We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again. 

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.” 

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of  Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song. 

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

 “Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper,  “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

 He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

  It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught. 

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.” 

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub  Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself.  His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking. 

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder. 

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.”  He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.” 

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with. 

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day. 

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart. 

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands. 

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

. 

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?” 

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around. 

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?” 

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard. 

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

 He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.” 

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.” 

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile.  “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk. 

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state.  “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.”  You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach. 

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area. 

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank. 

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?” 

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them. 

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots. 

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you. 

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more. 

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper. 

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him. 

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name. 

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse  down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this. 

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow. 

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk. 

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest.  “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just  minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano. 

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

[claire8216]

So I was watching the documentary The Beatles: Get Back last night and naturally it inspired a new JatP fic idea that I’ll (probably) never write.

Julie and the Phantoms are at the height of their fame. They’re playing huge, sold out arena tours all over the world. And don’t get them wrong, they’re so, so grateful for all of their success, that they’re lucky enough to achieve their dreams, but there’s also a part of them that miss the early beginnings. When they would write a new song and not have management questioning them on how well it will perform on the charts. When it was their sole responsibility to set up and tear down their equipment for their gigs. When each and every step they took on stage wasn’t meticulously planned out by choreographers, and they could just play whatever they wanted, wherever the music took them that performance.

It’s Alex who suggests it one day. Always the voice of reason, on a particularly uninspiring and frustrating day of songwriting with producers and outsiders who don’t always quite fit their vision, he finally says what they’ve all been thinking. That they need a break. Not from each other, but from the industry. 

They need to get back to their roots.

So they decide to take some time and go somewhere secluded, where they can write and pretend like they’re back in high school, just the four of them holed up in Julie’s studio, bright-eyed and nothing but their burning passion for music and each other driving them to be the best people and musicians they can be.

They write some of their best songs in those few months away from it all. But when it comes time to emerge back into the public, they decide that they don’t want these songs deduced solely to numbers on a Billboard chart, whether it be good or bad. So instead of releasing the studio recordings, they decide to perform them all in a surprise concert on the roof of Willie’s bar, their only audience being the people on the streets lucky enough to be passing by.

It goes down as one of the most iconic concerts in the history of the music industry.

Only years later, when they’re inducted into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, and as a tribute to their fans who have stuck by them and have been begging them for so many years, do they finally release the studio recorded songs to the public.

[1962dude420-blog]

Today we remember the passing of Mick Ronson who Died: April 29, 1993, London, England

Michael Ronson (26 May 1946 – 29 April 1993) was an English guitarist, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, arranger, and producer. He achieved critical and commercial success working with David Bowie as one of the Spiders from Mars. He was a session musician who recorded five studio albums with Bowie followed by four with Ian Hunter, and also worked as a sideman in touring bands with Van Morrison and Bob Dylan.

Ronson and Bowie also produced Lou Reed's Transformer with Ronson playing lead guitar and piano and writing string arrangements, and brought mainstream recognition. The album is considered an influential landmark of the glam rock genre, anchored by Reed's most successful single, "Walk on the Wild Side".

Ronson also recorded five solo studio albums, the most popular being Slaughter on 10th Avenue, which reached No. 9 on the UK Albums Chart. He played with various bands after his time with Bowie. A classically trained musician, Ronson was known for his melodic approach to guitar playing. He was named the 64th-greatest guitarist of all time by Rolling Stone in 2003 and 41st in 2012 by the same magazine.

Early in 1970, John Cambridge came back to Hull in search of Ronson, intent upon recruiting him for a new David Bowie backing band called The Hype. He found Ronson marking out a rugby pitch, one of his duties as a Parks Department gardener for Hull City Council. Having failed in his earlier attempts in London, Ronson was reluctant, but eventually agreed to accompany Cambridge to a meeting with Bowie. Two days later, on 5 February, Ronson made his debut with Bowie on John Peel's national BBC Radio 1 show.

The Hype played their first gig at The Roundhouse on 22 February with a line-up that included Bowie, Ronson, Cambridge, and producer/bassist Tony Visconti. The group dressed up in superhero costumes, with Bowie as Rainbowman, Visconti as Hypeman, Ronson as Gangsterman, and Cambridge as Cowboyman. Also on the bill that day were Bachdenkel, The Groundhogs and Caravan. The following day they performed at the Streatham Arms in London under the pseudonym of 'Harry The Butcher'. They also performed on 28 February at the Basildon Arts Lab experimental music club at the Basildon Arts Centre in Essex, billed as 'David Bowie's New Electric Band'. Also on the bill were High Tide, Overson and Iron Butterfly. Strawbs were due to perform but were replaced by Bowie's New Electric Band. John Cambridge left in March, again replaced by Woody Woodmansey. In April 1970, Ronson, Woodmansey, and Visconti started recording Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World album.

During the sessions for The Man Who Sold the World, the trio of Ronson, Visconti, and Woodmansey – still under The Hype moniker – signed to Vertigo Records. The group recruited Benny Marshall from The Rats as vocalist, and entered the studio to record an album. By the time a single appeared, The Hype had been renamed Ronno. "4th Hour of My Sleep" was released on Vertigo to an indifferent reception in January 1971. The song was written by Tucker Zimmerman. The B-side was a Ronson/Marshall composition called "Powers of Darkness". The Ronno album was never completed.

Bowie's backing ensemble, which now included Trevor Bolder, who had replaced Visconti on bass guitar, and keyboardist Rick Wakeman, were used in the recording of Hunky Dory. The departure of Visconti also meant that Ronson, with Bowie, took over the arrangements, while Ken Scott co-produced with Bowie. Hunky Dory featured Ronson's string arrangements on several tracks, including "Life On Mars?".

It was this band, minus Wakeman, that became known as The Spiders from Mars from the title of the next Bowie album. Again, Ronson was a key part of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, providing string arrangements and various instrumentation, as well as playing lead guitar. Ronson and Bowie achieved some popularity over the concerts promoting this album, when Bowie would simulate fellatio on Ronson's guitar as he played. Ronson's guitar and arranging during the Spiders from Mars era provided much of the underpinning for later punk rock musicians. In 1972 Ronson provided a strings-and-brass arrangement for the song "Sea Diver" on the Bowie-produced All the Young Dudes album for Mott the Hoople. Ronson co-produced Lou Reed's album Transformer with Bowie, playing lead guitar and piano on the songs "Perfect Day" and "Satellite of Love". Again with Bowie, he re-recorded and produced the track "The Man Who Sold the World" for Lulu, released as a single in the UK, and played on a few tracks on the Dana Gillespie album Weren't Born a Man. Ronson appeared on the 1972 country rock album Bustin' Out by Pure Prairie League, where he undertook string ensemble arrangements. Ronson recorded "Angel #9" for his second solo LP Play Don't Worry), and string arrangements on "Boulder Skies" and "Call Me, Tell Me" .

His guitar work was next heard on Bowie's Aladdin Sane and 1973 covers album Pin Ups. However, he was absent from the subsequent Diamond Dogs album. In September 1983 he was a special guest at the Toronto leg of the Serious Moonlight Tour, playing lead guitar during the performance of "The Jean Genie". He had only been asked to play the day before.

Bowie said in a 1994 interview that "Mick was the perfect foil for the Ziggy character. He was very much a salt-of-the-earth type, the blunt northerner with a defiantly masculine personality, so that what you got was the old-fashioned Yin and Yang thing. As a rock duo, I thought we were every bit as good as Mick and Keith or Axl and Slash. Ziggy and Mick were the personification of that rock n roll dualism.

After leaving Bowie's entourage after the "Farewell Concert" in 1973, Ronson released three solo albums. His solo debut Slaughter on 10th Avenue, featured a version of Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender", as well as Ronson's most famous solo track, "Only After Dark". In addition, his sister, Margaret (Maggi) Ronson, provided the backing vocals for the set. Between this and the 1975 follow-up, Ronson had a short-lived stint with Mott the Hoople.

He then became a long-time collaborator with Mott's former leader Ian Hunter, commencing with the album Ian Hunter and featuring the UK Singles Chart No. 14 hit "Once Bitten, Twice Shy", including a spell touring as the Hunter Ronson Band. In 1980, the live album Welcome to the Club was released, including a couple of Ronson contributions, although it also contained a few studio-based tracks – one of which was a Hunter/Ronson composition. In 1974, Ronson secured the No. 2 spot from a reader's poll in Creem magazine as the best guitarist that year (with Jimmy Page taking first place), and Eric Clapton in third place after Ronson.

Ronson contributed guitar to the title track of the 1976 David Cassidy release Getting It in the Street. On 11 February 1977 the single "Billy Porter" (b/w "Seven Days") was released on RCA Victor Records, but did not chart. Roger Daltrey employed Ronson's guitar on his 1977 solo release One of the Boys. In 1979, Ronson and Hunter produced and played on the Ellen Foley debut album, Night Out, with "We Belong to the Night" and the hit single "What's a Matter Baby".

He also played guitar on Roger C Reale’s “Reptiles in Motion” album recorded in 1979 and only released in 2019 after the master tapes were acquired from the family of the original rights owners. The label Big Sound, based in Connecticut, had gone bust and the album remained unreleased for forty years.

In 1982, Ronson worked with John Mellencamp on his American Fool album, and in particular the song "Jack & Diane". Both "Jack & Diane" and American Fool topped their respective US Billboard charts.

In 1990, Ronson again collaborated with Hunter on the album YUI Orta, this time getting joint credit, as "Hunter/Ronson". One of the backing singers on the album was Carola Westerlund. While in Sweden Ronson wrote and produced three new songs with Estelle Millburne and Westerlund as EC2: "I'm So Sorry"/"Kiss Me" (1990), then a second single as ECII: "Passion" with a B-side cover of J. Kilette and K. Brown's "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles".

In 1993, he again appeared on a Bowie album, Black Tie White Noise, playing on the track "I Feel Free", originally recorded by Cream. Ronson and Bowie had already covered this track live 20 years earlier, whilst touring as Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. He also played lead guitar on the Morrissey-penned "I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday".

His second and third solo albums were Play Don't Worry in 1975, and Heaven and Hull in 1994. The latter set was only partly completed at the time of Ronson's death, and was released posthumously. Artists involved with the album included Bowie, John Mellencamp, Joe Elliott, Ian Hunter, Chrissie Hynde, and Martin Chambers.

Besides Bowie and Hunter, Ronson went on to work as a musician, songwriter and record producer with many other acts. He did not restrict his influence behind the recording desk to just established acts. His production work appears on albums by more obscure artists, such as Payolas, Phil Rambow and Los Illegals, The Mundanes and Italian band Moda. Ronson produced The Visible Targets, a Seattle, Washington-based group, on their 1983 five track EP, "Autistic Savant". In 1985 he produced and played on the four song EP "Stillwell Avenue" with the NYC based band XDAVIS.

Ronson was also a member of Bob Dylan's "Rolling Thunder Revue" live band, and can be seen both on and off-stage in the film of the tour. He made a connection with Roger McGuinn during this time, which led to his producing and contributing guitar and arrangements to McGuinn's 1976 solo album Cardiff Rose.

In 1982, he participated on lead guitar in a short-lived band with Hilly Michaels on drums and Les Fradkin on bass guitar. One of their recordings from this group, "Spare Change", appeared on the Fradkin's 2006 album, Goin' Back. In 1987, Ronson made an appearance on a record by The Toll. Ronson played lead on the band's song, "Stand in Winter", from the album The Price of Progression.

In 1991, Ronson produced the Swedish cult band The Leather Nun's album, Nun Permanent, adding backing vocals and guitar overdubs on several tracks. At the end of the production, during a short visit to his sister in London, Ronson was diagnosed with cancer. In 1992 he produced Morrissey's album, Your Arsenal. The same year, Ronson's final high-profile live performance was his appearance at The Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert. He played on "All the Young Dudes" with Bowie and Hunter; and "Heroes" with Bowie. Ronson's final recorded session was as a guest on the 1993 Wildhearts album Earth vs the Wildhearts, where he played the guitar solo on the song "My Baby is a Headfuck". Liner notes for the Earth vs The Wildhearts album give credit to Mick Ronson for guitar on the track "My Baby Is A Headfuck" and the "album is dedicated to Mick Ronson".

Ronson died of liver cancer on April 29, 1993 at age 46.

[thirstyforred]

Wild Hungover ‘77 OCs & Lore 11/??

logo by @stillness138 🤗

idek what to add, it's been in my bean for the past 2 years now

Red Riders

No one seems to know where Red Riders, a cold chrome band that one heard off before, came from. It's like they just appeared one day and got Night City by storm. But all three of them, Mona [bass, vocals], Varhe [vocals, guitar], and Nam [drums] happened to be very attractive and had a distinctive aesthetic. And what punks of Night City love the most is some good, strong aesthetic.

It also happened that after their debut during The Silverhand’s Battle of the Bands in November 2067, Sylgie, owner of Samurai Club, the newest, hottest NC scene at the time, contacted them with a sweet, sweet deal. Sylgie didn't have much experience in actually managing bands, but she knew the right people in NC and was determined to make Red Riders big. And even tho later Riders accepted a pact with the devil that is a contract with an industry giant MSM MediaCorp, they never shied away from social commentary and managed to keep their cool and style.

The first album, named simply Red Riders came out barely four weeks after the Silverhand's Battle. It was a real reminisce of that first concert - lyrics full of lack of understanding of the world as it is and rebellion against it, all basically screamed into the microphone and ears of the listeners by main vocalist Varhe. Powerful bass and drum rhythms, the actual definition of what cold chrome is about, dirt and cold sounds that might be more at home in Totentanz than in more mainstream clubs, but somehow it just worked. With songs like Where the FUCK am I?? and WTF even is this place playing almost on the loop in radio Vexelstrom, Red Riders' first album was the hit of winter '67/'68.

The band played many gigs all around the city and at least once or twice even in some forgotten bars in Badlands, and in the meantime, they partied and made connections with other bands and influential people in Night City. In the summer of '68, they released ep PROJECT MAYHEM, which really solidified Riders images as the drink&riot kind of band. Especially after the summer music festival organized by various radio stations in the city, from which the band was kicked off from the night before their concert, but returned and played their set anyway. It was Red Riders' first performance in NCRadioFest, but thankfully not the last one - they returned for the second time, tho not in the full lineup, in '72.

In '69 premiered their second, vague, autobiographical concept album  -  ETERNAL WINTER. It was still weird and exciting, and only raised more questions about where the Riders even came from. Around this time it was also revealed that the group has a contract with MSM, which to this moment was kept secret. Fans started to turn away from music that was making them feel something, but all it took to bring them all back was the concert in Reconciliation Park that Riders played in the spring that year. It was more of a spontaneously thrown together wild music fest - on makeshift stage played with Riders some other more alternative, but successful bands like The Cartesian Duelists. Between the songs, Riders addressed their fans and the controversy and then premiered their upcoming single, Tramore Bitches, with some really poignant lines: "We care, seriously, but this city is a bitch, so we won't say no to the eddies we don't deserve." Folks saw that while yeah Riders have some backup, they still will do whatever they want and not much really can stop them. Single Tramore Bitches went gold, and with some help of corporation Avera, CEO of whom was a close friend with Nam, a somewhat edited and remixed version of the song became the official theme song of CyberOlimpics hosted by Night City 2070.

Before the fall of '70 really hit Riders announced that they're going on hiatus - they wanted some time for themselves and their personal projects. Folks were crying and dying on the streets, but Riders were fast to assure that it doesn't mean the end of the group, and soon after came out Mona's first solo album. Varhe released a few eps as well, and only Nam strayed away from the music, only sometimes guesting on other artists' projects.

The only thing that surely could be called their group project during that time was a three-part album curated by Mona. Forgotten Dreams was a collection of covers of almost lost to the DataKrash songs from the beginning of the XXI century - each rearranged and performed by different artists from Night City. With the only exception being the Riders themselves who, in duets and solo, and as a whole group, covered 10 of them. The first part of this project came out in '71 in spring, and the second in fall, but thank's to the whole Digital Dead Bodies controversy that one passed by almost completely unnoticed.

In January '72 Varhe played in Unplugged for Justice in Reconciliation Park, which despite the fact that he was the only Rider at the time in Night City, was recognized as Red Riders severing all their ties with Avera and Ascalon Club, and denouncing both. In the summer Forgotten Dreams III was released and by the end of the year, it finally got all the awards it deserved. The New Year concert was even announced and Samurai Club started selling ticked for the gig when the news of ripper gang targeting and kidnapping Mona came out, and even tho the whole thing ended more or less good, the show was called off.

Red Riders still managed to surprise everyone and on New Year's Eve they streamed their new year wishes and right before the midnight hit, they announced a new album, My photographer is a vampire out and free to download from their website. And as if that wasn't enough of surprises, barely a minute into 2073 they released also their last album. Also digital, also free, also unaffiliated with MSM MediaCorp, and titled Something ends, something begins. Their last concert happened to be during NCRadioFest '73, which played only Nam [on syths] and Varhe [bass] with additional musicians from different groups. And with that bittersweet goodbye, Red Riders officially disbanded, and all dropped from the music scene disappearing to whatever place they came from. For a hot second, some people claimed that they still saw Nam and Varhe in NC clubs, but by the end of the year, it was almost as if Red Riders were never there in the first place.

[myhauntedsalem]

The Strange Mystery of the Axeman of New Orleans Murders

An axe-wielding maniac stalked the streets of the Big Easy, and the only way to avoid slaughter was to play jazz.

It was the night of March 19, 1919 and jazz played in New Orleans.

Music poured out of private residences, where wealthy white New Orleanians hired bands to play music popularized in a mixed race Red Light District. Nightclubs and bars were packed to the point of overflow. In a city known for its lively atmosphere, this may have been one of the most gig-heavy nights in history.

Yet the musicians weren’t playing for love or money. These concerts were borne of fear, ordered by an axe-wielding maniac who claimed to come straight from Hell.

For almost a year, the city of New Orleans had been the subject of multiple attacks by a serial killer, an axe murderer who to this day has never been identified. The mysterious figure is known to history as the Axeman of New Orleans. And while it’s impossible to verify whether he’s responsible for all of the murders ascribed to him, it is a fact that from May of 1918 until October of 1919, 12 people were attacked across greater New Orleans—seven of whom died from their brutal wounds.

In almost every case, a small hole was carved out of a door. The Axeman would crawl through this opening—so small that several suspects were dismissed on account of their size—and then bludgeon his victims with an axe. Curiously, the weapon employed was often in the house, and left at the scene of the crime along with the chisel used for breaking through the door.

The victims of the Axeman had qualities in common. They were mainly women; men only suffered blows if they got in the Axeman’s way and never seemed to be the primary target. Many of the victims were Italian Americans, who at the time represented the Big Easy’s white underclass.

Citizens of Italian descent were no strangers to violence in New Orleans. In a city troubled by its tense race relations, the largest mass lynching in civic history was of 11 Italian Americans outside Parish Prison in 1891. Italians and their descendants lived in crowded slums that lacked the law enforcement presence of other neighborhoods. Many assumed Italian neighborhoods were run by mafia-esque organizations like the Black Hand, a stereotype grounded in some fact, but also inflated by prejudice and sensationalism. The recent end of World War I added fuel to nativist fires.

Into this volatile mix stepped the Axeman. His first officially recognized murder was on May 22, 1918. On that late spring day, he used his chisel to remove part of a door and slip into the home of Joseph and Catherine Maggio. When Joseph’s brothers Jake and Andrew, who also lived in the home, went to check on the couple, they found Catherine’s corpse draped over Joseph, whose head and face were gashed.

Joseph reacted to the appearance of his brothers, but died from his wounds shortly thereafter. Catherine’s head, meanwhile, had almost detached from her body. Her killer had used Andrew’s straight razor to slit her throat so deeply that she had been practically decapitated.

Andrew Maggio was arrested for the attack but released after an investigation turned up no further evidence linking him the crime. What police did find, about a block from the Maggio house, was a message scrawled in chalk, seemingly by a child, which read, “Mrs. Maggio will sit up tonight just like Mrs. Toney”.

Over the long hot summer that followed, two more attacks yielded four more victims, two of whom died from their wounds. One victim who survived, a Polish immigrant named Louis Besumer, was, like the Maggios, a grocer. This led to speculation that the attacker was a gangster bent on extortion. But if he was affiliated with organized crime, he seemed strangely nonchalant about money; the Axeman’s victims rarely had their values taken.

A strange lull then settled over New Orleans as the summer dragged on. From August 10, 1918, until late winter of 1919, no attacks were reported. Then, on March 10, 1919, in the suburb of Gretna just across the river from New Orleans proper, tragedy struck. The Cortimiglia family—Charles, Rosie and two-year old Mary—were attacked in their home after an invader carved out part of their kitchen door. Rosie, found cradling her dead daughter in her arms, was the only survivor.

Fear tightened its grip on New Orleans once again. Three days after the Cortimiglia attack, an ominous letter arrived at local newspapers. The author demanded its publication. The address line, in an eerie echo of Jack the Ripper’s correspondence, was from Hell.

Hell, March 13, 1919

Esteemed Mortal:

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman…

The writer went on to threaten additional murders, claiming he’d leave no clue except for his bloody axe, smeared with the gore of his victims. Then, he offered the terrified citizen of New Orleans a proposition.

Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it on Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.

It’s impossible to know whether the Axeman truly wrote this letter. Nevertheless, New Orleanians took the demand to heart. On March 19, the city resounded with jazz. No attack came that evening.

But the bloodletting wasn’t over quite yet. Three more victims, including one fatality, followed in August, September, and October of 1919. After October, the Axeman murders ceased, though there’s speculation that the killer may have struck earlier in the decade, around 1911 or 1912.

The Axeman murders remain a mystery. The grisly details of the case echo through the years, like the swinging jazz that played on that terrifying night in New Orleans.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/64898629

Chapter 33

When Morrie was long asleep, Nick was still restless. He needed a moment for himself,  so he went into the kitchen to pour himself a night drink. The feelings he had been too tired for during the day finally broke through. Anxiety took over him, as if he was about to face a threat he couldn't cope with. In his past, he had been unaware of what he was really doing until it had been too late to take it back. Now he knew what was coming for him but instead of feeling prepared he was afraid. Everyone expected him to learn from his mistakes but he didn't know what to do. He now clutched his drink, as if it could help him. If only he could remember, then perhaps he would make out what he had to do. So he won't fail again. He pressed his eyes shut, trying to recall his fameless life with Morrie before everything had started.

Norbert had kept his promise. To everyone's surprise he had stopped dating girls. He had made it look like it was the band that kept him busy now. Actually he really spent more and more time with The Make Believes, since they had started playing in various pubs all around town. They took every opportunity to earn a reputation. Still, they were only known in their district, but they had been in Lud's Holm once, with chances to get a foothold there. After their concerts Norbert and Morrie used to spend a lot of time with each other.

Norbert's second passion besides Morrie was Richard Bates' Music Shop, that had guitars and equipment that made him dream. Because Morrie shared that passion with him, he usually came along when Norbert visited the shop. As usual, Mr. Bates wasn't surprised to see them again, but pleased. "Good day you two. What will it be this time?", he greeted them with a big smile. "Just a set of new strings and some plectrums, please," Norbert said, curiously searching the room with his eyes. The latter he kept throwing to the most enthusiastic fans as a gift, who were mostly girls. It was approved by Morrie, because it was only a part of the show.

"Strings again?", the shopkeeper asked and shook his head. "Boy, you got to be careful." "I'm experimenting," Norbert defended himself. Bates left it at that. Instead he asked Morrie: "And what's it for you?" "I'm fine. I'm just here to make sure he doesn't go astray." He and Norbert chuckled at that.

When Norbert turned his gaze back to the counter he noticed something. "Mr. Bates, you undercharged me." He held up the bill. "Oh, indeed. Seems like I miscalculated." Bates winked. "Slight error in your favor I'd say." Norbert gaped. "You're such a treasure." "Ah, It's nothing. Gotta support a young talent like you," he waved him off.

Bates liked Norbert, ever since he had sold the boy his guitar when he had been 13. And after hearing him play in the park for the first time. It had made him really proud. "Just don't spread it around," he added. "Sure not," Norbert said and quickly payed. Then his eyes fell back on a shining blue guitar, that brand new model that had been part of Bates' inventory for a few days now.

"Anything else you like?", the shopkeeper asked and Norbert only gave a longing sigh. Bates understood. "I guess even I can't miscalculate that much." "I know", Norbert sighed, eyes still on the model. "Some day, my boy. Just keep playing and I'm sure you'll make it." Norbert quietly nodded. He would've loved to stare a bit more, but he had to play another concert that night and he wanted to get some things done before that.

He said goodbye to Bates, picked up Morrie who was viewing some new equipment and left the shop with him. Morrie had become very affectionate after they had confessed each other's love. Together they strolled along the streets back to their new home. The band had moved into one of the empty demolished houses that scarred Wellington Wells and no one ever talked about. No one rebuilt them, no one took them down. They only started to pretty them up and paint them in bright colors. They were perfect for five young musicians who had no money to pay a rent. They had found a house that had only a crater on one side, so many rooms were still intact. Norbert and Morrie of course shared a room.

The others playfully called them "our two lovebirds" but they didn't know the truth. Morrie had insisted to keep it a secret. Whenever they wanted to sleep with each other, they turned up the radio. Norbert quickly found out he had something he could teach Morrie in return for all the music lessons his lover had given him. And all the time and patience he had expended for him. Morrie however didn't act stupid at all. When they calmed down they spoke about their dreams.

"I wish we could get married," Morrie said when they lied in bed together. Norbert chuckled, but asked: "Why do you think we can't?" "Norrie, you know why," his lover answered gloomily. "People would hate us." "And what if we become so famous, so popular that nobody would hold it against us?" They locked gazes. "You think that's possible?", Morrie asked. "Why not? And when we made it, I'll marry you." Norbert kissed Morrie's hand and the other boy melted away.

In the evening they had a gig that would last until late night. Norbert had started to feel more and more comfortable on stage and had also learned a lot from the more famous bands, whenever they had had the chance to meet one. He was indeed experimenting in multiple ways. Tonight, he didn't notice the man who was watching him not only for amusement.

Virgil Dainty had been watching The Make Believes for some time now, as he was doing it with every band that looked promising. They had come quite far since he had first seen them and he liked their sound. They were about to find their own style that marked themselves off from the others. Also the two lead guitarists, one of them left-handed, made them stand out. Virgil's favorite was the left-handed guitarist. He had potential. Today he was convinced that the band was ready to make a big step forward.

When Norbert left the stage after the show, he soon stared up at a tall, handsome man who suddenly stood in front of him. He already regretted that he was most likely only there to ask for the way when the man said: "Pardon me, are you Nick Lightbearer?" He spoke in a deep voice, that was loud enough to be heard over the chattering in the pub. Norbert stopped whatever he had planned to do. "Y..yes?", he stuttered. "I'd like to talk to you, if you can spare a minute." "Sure...", Norbert said, still helpless. The man gestured towards a free table and Norbert nodded.

When they sat down, the man spoke again: "My name is Virgil Dainty. I'm looking for new talents all around Great Britain and your band caught my attention the fist time I've been in this town. I've been watching you since then and I'm impressed. You've come very far." Norbert needed a second to process this. "You're watching us?" "Yes. You've got style. What bothers me is that you're too careful. You're still an insider tip. You need a bigger show, at a place where more people can see you." "We've been in Lud's Holm...", Norbert said to defend them. Virgil waved him off. "I mean outside Wellington Wells." Norbert's heart pounded now. "And where would that be?", he asked breathlessly. The man placed a piece of paper on the table and pointed at it. It was a handout from a famous music festival. Norbert gasped.

"Do you really mean this?", was all he could say. Virgil nodded. "You don't have to decide about it now. I'll be back tomorrow." Norbert stared at him with furrowed brows. "But...but what do you want in return?" "I want you to be at your best, so you won't bring shame on me," the man said, but with a playful wink. Norbert couldn't help but smile with him. He was lost in Virgil Dainty's attraction.

"You make me all flustered," he sighed when his tongue suddenly loosened. "Are you doing this on purpose?" Virgil was confused for a second, then he said: "Not at all. Sadly I have that impact on people. If you get to know me, you'll learn that I don't bite." "What if I want it?", Norbert whispered before he could stop himself. Virgil didn't flinch this time. "Then I can arrange that too," he said in his deep, calm voice. Norbert went dizzy. "Until next time, Mr. Lightbearer," Virgil added and rose from the chair. "Until next time, Mr. Dainty..." Norbert muttered more to himself, still clutching the paper. He watched the man leave the pub and then ran home.

When he entered their house his face was bright red with excitement. "Guys, guys listen! Something smashing has happened!" The band quickly gathered around him. "I met a man in the pub who wants us to play at the festival", he said waving around the paper, "And if he didn't lie to me he doesn't want anything in return." His friends stared at the handout. "Are you sure?", Brad asked. "Did he have a name?", Morrie looked at Norbert. "Virgil Dainty." "Virgil Dainty?", Matt repeated. "You mean THAT Virgil Dainty, the manager?"

"Uh..." Norbert shrugged. He had never heard about him. "I don't know." "Holy shit, man! What did you say to him?" Matt grabbed his collar. "Nothing yet," Norbert said and freed himself from his friends grab. "He set us a deadline until tomorrow." Matt was now just as excited. "Do you know what that means? Virgil fucking Dainty found us! He could be our manager!" "If we're good," Norbert added. "We are, man! If Virgil says so..." "Many people will hear us." "Finally! It's a big stage!" "We didn't do that before...", Norbert quietly said and bit his lower lip. Chris understood the hint.

"Don't chicken out now, Nick! We can't miss this chance!" "I know, I know..." Norbert massaged his temples. It was all too much. "You'll make it. And you won't be alone. I'll be always right next to you," Chris comforted him. It was true. They stood next to each other on stage. "I will hold your hand if I must." "And we'll be right behind you," Brad said and put a hand on Norbert's shoulder. "You're so sweet," Norbert sighed, then he hugged them.

At night Norbert and Morrie both couldn't sleep. "Looks like we're finally making it," Norbert whispered into the silence. Morrie kissed his cheek. "Don't be afraid, Norrie. Just be as smashing as you've been today." Norbert thankfully kissed him back, concentrating on nothing but his lover's tender lips, trying to get Virgil Dainty out of his head. That night, it worked.

The next day they were all nervous, knowing that the famous manager was watching them. He didn't show himself until the end of the show, when Norbert suddenly found him sitting at a table and waving at him. "That's him," Matt whispered when they made their way to the table and Norbert felt goosebumps all over his body. They shook hands, intodruced themselves and expressed their approval to Virgil. Norbert stayed in the background, so that Virgil already asked himself if he had been wrong about him. The others were much less shy. But then again it was possible that he was embarassed about his emotional outbreak at their last meeting. Virgil couldn't blame him for that, but he planned to cause more outbreaks from him in the future.

[justkending]

Starstruck. Chapter 1.

Summary: Bucky Barnes works at a hospital in NYC as an E.R. doctor. Him and his a group of his friends all plan a trip to Texas to attend ACL music festival. It’s not really Bucky’s scene, but one particular artist that is performing there is his celebrity crush, Y/N Blaire. Y/N is a country pop singer who is on the up and coming rise in the music industry. What’s to come of the two? Well, that’s for them to explore and you to find out...

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Blaire (Reader)

Word count: 4300+

A/N: This idea was one of those ones that once it came, there was no getting it out of my head. SO here we are actually putting it in writing. Hopefully I can give it the justice it deserves! Also, fair note to make, I recently went to ACL this year and this is where the idea kinda blossomed. I watched an amazing selection of all kinds of artist I already knew and some that I grew to love. I say this because Kacey Musgrave was one of those individuals and I haven’t stopped listening to her albums since I went, and I love her type of music as well as voice. So, each chapter will have a song that goes with it from her. In other words, the reader is based off of Kacey. Her type of music and voice are going to be what the reader characterizes as. Enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

NEW SERIES FOR A NEW YEAR!! HAPYY NEW YEAR!!!

Songs: 

Enough- Alex Roe 

Dime Store Cowgirl- Kacey Musgraves

Chapter 1:

“Come on! We have to hurry if we’re going to make it to the Honda stage!” Bucky grunted, maneuvering his way through 75,000 people that were also trying to get around the crowd.

He had taken the lead of the group with Clint, Wanda, Nat, and Steve following single filed.

“Bucky, slow down! The girls can’t push past as fast,” Steve shouted on the tail end of the line.

“I can hold my own, Steve.” Nat sassed sending him a playful glare.

He just chuckled, placing a hand on her back as he moved to the side for yet another person as they continued to sneak through everyone else. 

Once they got to the middle of the park, where it was a lot more spacious, they all scoped out the stage they were looking for, seeing it was already filling up. The concert goers already standing to the back of the field. Clearly there were about 2-3 thousand people waiting for the next performer to go on.

“Damn it. We’re too late. We can’t get close to the stage,” Bucky mumbled upset that the one singer he wanted to see was going to have to be from a good distance. 

“Who even is this girl and why is Barnes having a full on fangirl moment?” Clint chuckled getting an elbow to the ribs from Nat.

“She’s a really good artist,” Bucky rolled his eyes as they moved as close to the stage as possible. 

“She’s an up and coming country pop singer,” Wanda spoke up. 

“Country? Since when is Bucky into anything country? I thought he was into the old classics,” Clint scoffed. 

“She’s the one exception. When he figured out she existed, that’s all that played in our apartment for 4 months,” Steve laughed. “I’m sure it didn’t stop though after he moved out.”

“Hey. You loved it and you know it,” Bucky pointed a finger at his best friend. 

“She’s good. I’ll give you that.” Steve held out his hands up in surrender. “Clint, I’m sure you’ll like her.”

“Hey, I’m all for a little country music,” Clint replied.

“It’s a subtle country twinge to it though. Nothing overbearing,” Wanda added. 

“Wanda, you a fan too?” Nat asked. 

“Maybe not as much as Barnes here, but yes. I’ve listened to her for a while,” Wanda nodded. 

“How much longer until she’s on?” Nat asked, turning to the stage.

“About 23 minutes,” Bucky said looking over everyone's heads as they got as close as they could without being squashed. 

“It’s a good thing Sam couldn’t come. He would definitely be making some comments and jokes about your little obsession,” Clint chuckled under his breath.

“Shut up!” Bucky groaned. “She’s just really good and a good person.” 

“Oh, so you’ve met her?” Steve nudged his arm with Bucky’s.

“No, but she isn't in any of the bad media,” Bucky answered. “Unlike her stupid boyfriend.”

“She has a boyfriend.” Wanda asked.

“Yeah, Quentin Beck. He’s an actor, but did a few albums a while back. He has a bad rap from the past. Big time party goer, manipulative, and always messed with peoples head making them think he was a good guy when he wasn’t. Complete dick from what I’ve heard.” Bucky crossed his arms looking ahead at the stage. “Apparently, he went through this whole life changing stage, and now he’s all sweet and generous. Of course, everyone thinks it’s cause Y/N had that effect on him.”

“Ok, has Barnes been internet stalking this girl forever or…” Clint said eyebrows raised. 

“Shut up. I just keep up with the news and read, punk,” Bucky sent daggers Clint’s way. 

“Whatever you want to call it man. I personally call it stalking.” Clint shrugged getting a shove from the dark haired man. 

“Boys, cut it out.” Nat said stepping between the two. “If it wasn’t for this girl, we wouldn’t have got Bucky to come. So I say we enjoy her show, and stop teasing Barnes on his obvious crush.”

“It’s not a crush!” Bucky groaned.

“Sure cowboy. Sure thing,” Wanda patted his back with a wink getting a chuckle out of him before he wrapped an arm over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

“You’re the only one who gets me,” he smiled.

“Eh, what are friends for? Plus us Y/N Blaire fans got to stick together,” she winked at him. 

Sure enough 23 minutes later, music began to play, and the crowd went crazy. Wanda squeezed Bucky’s waist looking up seeing him staring trying to find the singer he had come almost 2000 miles to see. 

When they heard the crowd get even louder, they saw she had walked on in an outfit that screamed her, and her guitar thrown over her shoulder. 

She was smiling and waving at the crowd with a giant genuine grin. Even though the group of friends were a really good distance away, the giant stadium sized screens on both sides of the stage showed her perfectly.

She was wearing a green leaf textured top that was short yet modest. Her skirt was what looked like an old renaissance painting in fabric form. She had bracelets up her arm, and necklaces hanging from her neck. Her hair thrown into a messy yet intricate braided style with a custom cowboy hat with a flat rim around it sew in with detailed embroidery.

“Her outfit is so cute.” Nat said leaning to look past Bucky and talk to Wanda. 

“Her style is literally the best. It’s ranges from hippy/hipster with a twinge of country to itl. She done some fun things that you think would never work, but somehow look amazing on her!” Wanda agreed. 

“Is that where you get your inspiration?” Nat laughed motioning to Wanda's witchy-hipster-vibe.  

“I’d be proud to be compared to her,” she winked before turning back to the stage.

“Oh, my! Look at all you lovely people!” Y/N said into her mic that stood in a stand in front of her as she scanned the sea of individuals. “I would have never guessed to see this many people. Holy shit!” she laughed stepping back and putting her hand on her cheek as she listened to them scream.

“Ok, she’s pretty cute. I’ll give you that, Barnes,” Clint laughed getting a nod of agreement from Steve. 

“Back off, Barton,” Bucky laughed back sending a teasing look. 

“Sure... No crush at all...” Clint rolled his eyes playfully.

“As most of you probably know, Austin is one of my favorite places here in Texas beside my hometown,” Y/N continued and paused as the crowd screamed again making her laugh in the mic and making Bucky’s heart skip a beat at the sound. “And it’s crazy to think that a little over 5 years back, I was just a struggling artist doing small gigs in cafes and bars, and playing on the street for a little extra cash.” She let out a breath and held her hand to her heart. “It’s a dream to be asked to play here along with some AMAZING artist,” she emphasized. “Like. I honestly don’t know if this is real or if I’m going to wake up in a few minutes.” More cheers. “Anyway, you guys didn’t come here to hear me gawk at what my life is now, so let’s get a move on!” she said pumping her hand getting the loudest screams so far. 

She turned to the rest of the band before counting down and starting to strum her guitar.

Everyone took in the performance with awe. Bucky especially, he sang along with Wanda on a few songs, but mainly just took in the moment listening to her and her voice. 

He literally had never seen someone perform live so well and so gracefully. She was a great stage presence and got the crowd all riled up as the songs changed. She interacted with them stopping in between songs to talk to the crowd before leading to the next song. She was amazing. Absolutely stunning and Bucky’s stomach was overwhelmed with butterflies just having an experience with his friends like this. 

“Ok, for this last song-” the crowd booed and let out sad shouts. “I know, I know. I don’t want it to end either, but someone else needs this stage,” she laughed taking off the guitar and grabbing her mic. “But I promise you’ll love me for this next part. I have a special guest that you may all know, that’s going to duet with me on this last song.” The crowd chanted waiting for the surprise. “Want to come out?” she turned to the side stage. 

Everyone turned immediately shouting seeing who it was. 

The crowd going crazy seeing Quintin Beck wave coming out with his own mic. Bucky not too enthused by him. Annoyed? Yeah for sure. But it was because this guy had a bad reputation and he didn’t quite understand someone like Y/N who was known for her kindness being with a gaslighter. 

“Hey everyone!” he smiled coming out and moving straight to Y/N taking her in a long hug. He turned back to the crowd with his arm still around her waist and smiled. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Screams. “I would be too if you get to hear this angel sing,” he winked at her getting a loud awe from the people. 

“How do you feel about giving them a special duet?” she giggled leaning her head on his shoulders.

Though a simple action, something in Bucky’s body cringed. 

“I’d say they shouted enough for it,” he smiled at her before she nodded to the band and they started back up. 

They began singing one of Beck’s songs together. It was a slower love song called Enough. He had recorded it a while back, but when they started dating, they re-did it making it top of the charts for a while. 

Her voice always seemed to be so smooth and easy going. Bucky hated to admit it, but Quintin voice mixed well into the song. Especially when she came in and harmonized. He didn’t think it was possible for it to sound more perfect, but the harmony smacked him in the face. Probably doing the same to everyone else. 

When they finished they did a small bow, and the crowd began chanting for them to kiss. Making Bucky let out a groan and look away.

“Jealous, Buck?” Steve leaned in with a chuckle.

“Shut up, punk.” he said looking back up and seeing Quintin just land a subtle kiss to her cheek making the concert goers whoop and holler. 

“Whatever, Jerk,” Steve laughed.

“You’ve all be amazing! I hope you all enjoy the rest of the concerts! I heard my friend Kacey Musgraves is here, so I may need to join you in watching her!” she winked at one of the camera. “I love you ya’ll! Have a great and safe night! Thank you!” she waved walking back and disappearing with Quintin already waiting on the side for her.

“Ok, let’s head to The Cure before heading back to the hotel. They’re one of the last acts tonight.” Nat said pushing the boys to the next stage in hopes of getting there a little bit sooner than others. 

“So, what’d you think Clint? Still going to make fun of me for liking her?” Buck asked, smacking his friends back.

“I’ll give it to you, Barnes. She’s cute, talented, and seems like a sweet person. You’ve got good taste,” Clinton laughed. 

“Told ya.” 

“I think you just added to her fan club, Buck.” Steve winked. 

They all laughed as they worked their way through the crowd for the last concert of the night. Only one more day to go then it was back to work for all of them.

_______

The last day of ACL had been exhausting to say the least. They were planning on leaving before the festival ended, so they had taken the first half of the day to venture downtown Austin. They had just finished lunch at a pizza place, and the girls said they wanted to do a little shopping down the strip before heading back to the concerts. 

“How long does it take to look through one tiny shop?” Bucky groaned as they stood outside another boutique.

“You don’t shop with girls very often, do you?” Steve laughed. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a pretty demanding job and haven't fully settled with it enough to get a girlfriend,” Bucky sassed. 

“You’ve been an ER doctor for over 7 years. I would hope by now you have some kind of grasp on the job,” Clint snorted. 

“You’re a cop, Barton. It’s not as easy as the people on TV make it look,” Bucky retorted. 

“I’m Captain of a precinct. It’s a little more work than a cop.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Plus, I still make time for Laura, don’t I?”

“You were high school sweethearts.” 

“You’re point?”

“Come on Buck. When’s the last time you even went out on a date?” Steve nudged him. “Peggy has friends she can set you up with.”

“We’ve tried that already, remember? The girl had the color scheme of our wedding, and the name of our imaginary kids already picked out by the second rounds of drink.” Buck huffed. 

“Yeah, she was a little intense,” Steve pursed his lips as he rocked on his heels. “That may have been one of the new girls at Peggy’s office that she was just trying to introduce to new friends. She ended up being a little too clingy for all of us.”

“You think?” Bucky snorted. 

“What about-”

“What about I go into this quiet and empty bookstore, and as soon as the girls are done, you can come and get me?” he didn’t wait for an answer since he was over them trying to set him up once again. “You know Nat’s single too! Why don’t you try setting her up with someone?”

He huffed as he walked into the close-to-empty small book store. Only about 3 people in there. He let out a sigh as he ran his hand over his face, and walked to the back of the store. 

Just as he was rounding the corner, he hit a smaller body turning the same corner. 

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” the woman said moving to grab the books in her hand and keep them from falling. 

Bucky reacted quickly and put his hands on the same book making it to where his larger hands were covering the woman’s smaller ones in support. 

“No, no! That’s my fault, doll.” he awkwardly chuckled as he tried looking at her face, but she was wearing a felt floppy hat covering her features. “You ok?”

She finally looked up once the books were steady in her hands, and smiled up at him. His heart stopped instantly. 

No. Way.

“Doll? Cute little pet name, Sweetheart,” she replied back with a sweet and soft southern accent. 

“Y-You’re- Y-” he began stuttering and her face slightly dropped from smiling, to nervous. 

“Oh, please don’t shout or something,” she whispered adjusting the books in her hand and the hat on her head. “I take it you’re a fan,” she smiled softly at him.

Holy shit, she was more beautiful up close. Even all those album covers with her hair and makeup all done, and the little photoshoots from the magazines didn’t do her justice in person. 

“Uh, yeah,” he let out a chuckle. “But don’t worry. I won’t cause a scene,” he said turning back to see the store was still vacant practically. Somehow his voice not staggering now. 

“I appreciate it,” she smiled looking over his shoulder. “Us ‘famous people’ still do normal human stuff too. Believe it or not,” she winked at him making his heart actually flutter. 

“No, no, Ha. I believe it. But, uh this is a pretty popular part of town. Why here?” he asked moving to where he was blocking anyone from behind them to see her. She caught the gesture and her smile grew at it knowing his kind intentions. “I mean especially during ACL. More people souvenir shopping.”

“Very true,” she giggled. “But uh, I don’t get to come back to Austin very often, and this my favorite little bookstore. Thought while I was in town…” she shrugged. 

“I see,” he chuckled. 

“That plus, most people skip the book store and go straight for the overpriced boutiques,” she joked. 

“Shame too. Who wouldn’t want a book from a new city?” he said crossing his arms. 

How was he so calm around her? He had been a fan of hers for years. Shouldn’t he be a nervous, sweating, stuttering wreck. I mean sure his heart was beating about 100x more than it should of, but he was having easy conversation somehow.

“Right?” she breathed out a soft laugh. “God. Someone who gets it,” she grinned.

“I’m, uh, I’m Bucky,” he said putting a hand out and offering it to her. 

“Y/N. But I’m sure you already knew that,” she chuckled again before taking his hand with her free one. “You from around here, Bucky?”

“No actually. My friends and I came down from New York,” he said regretfully taking his hand back, but it would be weird to hold onto it longer. Right?

“New York? That’s quite the trip. Tell me you flew, and didn’t drive the whole way.” she said raising an eyebrow.

“No, flying was definitely the only way my friends would have got me here. I don’t think they could handle 26 hours in the car ride here,” he laughed making her join him. God, he wanted to make her make that sound about 5687 more times. 

“Not a big road trip person?” she asked. 

“No, I’m a big road trip fan. I think a little too much sometimes. They probably would have been annoyed of me halfway here.”

“Same here. I can be a little too cheery in a tight car,” she said. 

“Blaire!” Someone from behind yelled. “We gotta get moving. We got a busy schedule today, and we have to drop Quin off at the airport.” 

She looked over Bucky’s shoulder seeing a man in jeans and a t-shirt, but fancy sunglasses and a phone to his ear.

“Ok, be right there,” she nodded. She turned back to Bucky and sent him an apologetic smile. “It was nice talking to you Bucky, but the superstar life doesn’t rest unfortunately.” she shrugged. 

“No, no. Go ahead. I’m sure you have better things to do than talk to a stranger in a bookstore,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

“I don’t know. This was turning out to be an interesting little conversation Bucky,” she grinned, and he about burst at her saying his name again. “You going to the last day of ACL?” she said, moving around him but still looking to him. 

“Uh, yeah. My friends and I are going to head that way soon,” he nodded. 

“Well, little tip. If you have a chance, go check out Kacey Musgrave’s stage if you can. I heard there’s going to be a little surprise,” she winked before turning and walking back to the desk. 

Bucky watched as she checked out and talked to the man that had called on her earlier. Just as she was leaving though, she turned back looking for him and sent him a small wave. He returned it and she smiled one more time making him actually melt into his spot before disappearing. 

“Dude, we called you like 5x times. What took you so long? I was about to go in there and hunt you down,” Steve said seeing Bucky in a dazed face with a stupid grin on his face. “Buck, what’s going on with you?”

_____

They went ahead and headed to the music festival for the last few concerts before flying back home. Bucky explained to them what had happened and how he had had a full conversation with the Y/N Blaire, but no one believed him but Wanda. Either that or they were just messing with him to irritate him. They just kept teasing him about how he was daydreaming and thinking up scenarios he just WANTED to happen. 

“Ok, so Kacey Musgrave next?” Nat asked as they were walking around.

“Yeah, I think that’s the last one we have time for before heading out,” Steve nodded. 

“Y/N said there was going to be a big surprise at her show too. I think it’s a good note to end on,” Bucky spoke up.

“Sureeee thing, Barnes. Y/N probably did say that,” Clint winked elbowing his friend. 

“Barton, I swear if you keep joking around about not believing me, I’ll punch you so hard and leave you passed out on the grass for some drunk person to throw up on you,” Bucky groaned over the teasing. 

“Give him a break guys. The man met the love of his life. You can’t blame him for being so awestruck he forgot to get proof of it,” Wanda patted his back reassuring him. 

“Thanks Wanda,” he smiled at the one person who didn’t annoy him to no end. “Wait-” 

“Let’s go guys. If we want a good spot at least,” Nat laughed waving them on. 

They ended up getting a good spot pretty close to the gate. Sure it was about 40-50ft away from it, but that was good for ACL’s crowds. 

Kacey came out eventually and did an amazing performance. Her stage lit up with pastels and whimsical colors. 

“Okay everyone! As you know, I grew up in a small town in Texas, and I’m not the only artist performing here this week who did,” she smiled on the big screen getting the crowd to scream.

“No fucking way,” Bucky muttered to himself, but Steve heard and turned to him.

“What?” Steve said watching his friends mouth drop and Wanda’s doing the same. “Wanda, what am I missing?”

“This girl and I actually grew up just a few towns away from each other. Little did we know, that we hung out with each other through mutual friends a few times. But who would’ve thought we would be here together?” Kacey laughed. “So without further ado. I have a little guest star that’s going to sing an older song of mine. Y/N/N, you wanna come out here and say hi?” she motioned to the side stage like Y/N had with Quintin. 

The crowd going nuts once more. 

“Hey!” she waved in a new attire. “How are y'all doing?” Again more shouts and screams of excitement. 

“Well, would you look at that? Maybe Bucky did meet her,” Steve chuckled lightly, picking up on the surprise that she had supposedly told him about. 

“I told you, punk!” Bucky said pointing a finger. “Take that asshole,” he said turning to Clint who was just laughing hysterically. 

“If there is one song that I can fully relate to that Miss. Kacey has created, it’s Dime Store Cowgirl. Small town southern girls, am I right?” Y/N grinned. 

“Shall we then?” Kacey asked. 

“Oh. We shall,” Y/N smiled giving her a side hug before they both pulled back and waved to the band signaling the song. 

Everyone screaming and shouting the song with the two. Then just as fast as it happened, Y/N and Kacey were bowing and saying their final goodbyes with a few blown kisses to the crowd.

“Goodnight Austin! I love you!” Kacey screamed as they left side by side. Y/N blowing kisses as they walked. 

The crew packed up and left that night. Heading back to the real world unfortunately. All Bucky could think about was how he would probably never see Y/N again. Not like he did in the bookstore at least.

Nope. That was a one time thing, and quite honestly he wondered if it was all a dream. Maybe she would come to NYC soon, and he could see her in concert again. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be better than never seeing her in person again. Right?

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