#just to let you know : all three features are by male singers!

[anqelblccm]

⊹˳⁺ ⠀⠀⠀ YOU GOT A NOTIFICATION FROM HERO : WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT ME !

so... hero's cb is coming up! and i was thinking abt smth ♡

hero will have three songs that will feature another person, and that's exactly why i'm making this post!

please like or comment on this post if you want your oc to be featured on the album + i'll be dm-ing you with the songs in question for you to see if they fit you(r oc)!

[dontexpectmuch]

just jude being [incredibly] jealous about your [understable] crush on jeon jungkook.

a/n: jungkook, if you’re reading this, come back home pls the kids miss you

jude feels something shuffling next to him as he stirs in his sleep, his ears slowly picking up the sound of your muffled giggle, you trying best to stay quiet while he sleeps.

he squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to stay asleep, but as he hears a deep voice, one that unmistakably belongs to a male, a male that is not him, coming from your phone, his eyes spring open. his head snaps to your direction, and though he felt really tired just a second ago, it feels like it has all been washed away as he is greeted by the sight if you, sitting up again the bed frame, your phone’s display illuminating your face.

his heart picks up at speed as he sees your wide smile and the shining in your eyes, and a certain sadness settles within his chest.

are you actually doing this to him? even though he is lying next to you, in the comfort of your own bed?

as he sees you smile even wider than before - if that was even possible - jude feels something snap within him, making him immediately sit up to snatch your phone out of your hands.

“what the-“ the anger and even panic painting your features naked his shoulders sack. so you really are doing this to him?

“are you for real?” his voice is deep, and though you can’t see it due to the darkness in your room, a frown settles on his handsome face.

“are you for real?” you respond, leaning towards him to grab your phone.

jude doesn’t give in, holding it away from your body as he gently closes his other hand around your wrist, “babe, why would you do that?”

you whine, escaping his hold just to take his hand into yours, “i’ll go to sleep in five minutes, please, i don’t want to miss his live, just a bit.”

frown still present, jude looks down at your phone, seeing a [really handsome, fuck] guy sitting in a room lit by purple led lights, jacket and beanie on though he seems to sit in a living room. next to his face, he sees multiple comments pop up by the second, the guy leaning forward to read those. next, his eyes wander up towards the viewers and-

“holy fuck, 30 million viewers?”

“is he still on?”

you lean your head against his, eyes now focused on jungkooks side profile as he seems to tell a story to his viewers. you can’t help but let out a [dreamy] sigh, chucking as you listen to him intensely, though you don’t understand that much.

“are you deadass watching him? do you even know what he’s talking about?” jude hands you your phone back, shaking his head as he lays back down, eyes still focused on your bright smile.

“translations will be up by tomorrow.” you shrug, deciding to lay down next to him with your cheek against his shoulder, your phone now probed on his chest.

jude stays quiet for a bit, watching that guy as he decides to sing a song while rolling his eyes as he hears your small giggle. and that is why you are up at, fuck, three in the morning? to watch that guy sing some songs and talk in language he can’t understand?

“i can sing better than him.” jude grumbles, his cheek now resting against your head as he closes his eyes, not in the mood to watch his lover watch another guy with a lovesick [yuck] smile.

though he can’t see it, you roll your eyes, “babe, he is an international superstar, singer, songwriter, pro-“

“didn’t ask for his fucking resumé.” jude scoffs, his hand moving towards your phone to take it from you, closing the app and locking it.

“hey!” you quietly protest, actually sad that your boyfriend would prevent you from watching your other boyfriend [you wish].

jude turns to his side, your face now in front of his chest as he sneaks his arm around your waist, pulling you closer if that was even possible. you hear him sigh happily and immediately forget about your sadness, snuggling up to his body.

“you’re my favorite boyfriend.”

“i thought i’m your only boyfriend?”

“good night, lover.”

yoongi marry me

[binniebakery]

Your Biggest Fan!

Rockstar!Yeonjun x Fem!Reader, Strangers to ?? (fwb? teehee) Slightly Suggestive! ♡ Summary: Your best friend forces you to attend a local rock group’s concert. You weren’t expecting much until said group’s lead guitarist catches your eye with a wink and a smile, now he’s all you can think about. Little do you know you’ve caught his attention too. ♡ Warnings: smoking, some drinking, n cursing, the sexual tension go crazy, yeonjun is kinda mean, almost burns reader with a cig, this is not proofread! ♡ A/N: finally! After so long i post this lmaoo tbh i had the biggest writer’s block for this fic (I cringed while every second writing this so I very much hate it but o well!) but as promised this was going to be my next one!! moawajunnies please enjoy!!

“Ah, shit– I spilled my drink!” Your friend groaned and you looked from your phone to see part of her outfit drenched in beer. It’s a good thing she was wearing all black. “You alright?” you ask, joining her in assessing the damage.

“Yeah, just clumsy..” She then excuses herself to search for something to wipe the beverage off, mumbling a ‘just as the concert was about to start’ as she squeezes through the crowd. There was probably a low chance she’d make it back to your spot in the very front.

You turn back to the screen, watching the timer tick down. Three minutes left and the crowd was starting to get more impatient by the second, internally cringing at the way you were getting shoved up against the barricade.

God, this was not your type of event at all, not with the amount of smelly drunk attendees. You were only here because you were dragged.

Time went by surprisingly quick as your subway surfer’s gameplay was cut quickly to an end. Music began to roar across the small outside garage and you felt the bass pump through your veins.

A group of five males walk up on stage, the tallest member, their leader, smiling and waving as he approaches his spot, dimples on display as he held his large keyboard guitar.

The drummer, your best friend's favorite, had blonde hair curled perfectly against his handsome features. Tapping his drumsticks with a grin as the crowd roared his name. “Kai! Kai! Kai!”

The group’s bassist and lead guitarist walk in, jumping and showing off their skills with nimble fingers, causing the crowd to get louder and louder. The lead guitarist’s brown wolf cut bouncing as he smirked and waved, black-haired bassist motioning his hands for the crowd to scream louder.

The perfect combination of charisma and attitude for a rock band.

Lastly, the lead vocalist runs on stage, microphone headset attached to his head as he stops front in center. His eyeliner smeared in just the right way, his soft orange hair a bright contrast to his torn and tattered outfit. Immediately you could tell he was the main attraction as fans roared.

Though you can’t say you could disagree, this man had an aura, and it was becoming more intense the longer you stared at him. 

Said male lifts his chin to the crowd, a confident smile as fans swooned. “How are we doin’ tonight!?” The place shook and you felt the air grow thicker with every second. You felt the need to join in, feeling the energy shoot through your veins. At this point thoughts of where your best friend was had completely left your mind.

“Let’s fucking go then! This one’s called ‘Growing Pain’!” He kicks and the notes begin to blare through the speakers.

To say these guys weren’t talented would be the biggest understatement in history. The presence they served was beyond comprehensible and although you had never listened to their music prior, you felt immediately entranced by their stage presence.

Their lead singer especially. He had the attitude of a true rockstar, grabbing his water bottle and splashing the water on himself and the crowd after taking his sip. You were completely lost in the character portrayed in front of you, and you had the perfect view too.

As the concert went on, you came to learn the lead singer’s name was Yeonjun, and this Yeonjun was definitely eye candy.

‘Dreamer’ was one of their slower songs, but the crowd seemed to adore it. The sensual combination of the boy’s voices mixing together and harmonizing to create a sexy and attractive atmosphere and you felt practically high on the sound.

You still couldn’t take your eyes off Yeonjun. The way his body moved and the way he always seemed to linger in your part of the stage didn’t help either. 

“Let me break it down for you..” Yeonjun’s gaze lands onto yours and you hold eye contact. You feel your body buzz at the interaction. The singer bites his lip as the leader of the group sings his verse, Yeonjun’s eyes never shifting from your position.

Damn, he was good at his job.

The rest of the concert proceeds like that, you and Yeonjun exchanging stares and at one point he winks at you, mouthing a ‘call me’ as his hand waves. You immediately flush at the boldness. He knew how to really interact with his audience.

The concert ends and you finally meet up with your friend, flusteredly attempting to explain the interactions you received and she groans. “Fuck– lucky! I’m so mad I wasn’t able to get back to the front, but at least we both enjoyed the concert..” She smiles weakly and you pat her back. Suddenly you feel a large hand tap your shoulder.

Why the hell was the band’s lead singer standing behind you?

“Hey.” Yeonjun smiles and he tilts his shades upwards, as if you wouldn’t have recognized him. Were the shades supposed to be some sort of disguise? He was literally still wearing the same outfit as earlier, sweat droplets still falling down the sides of his face and you can’t believe the fact that nobody has noticed him yet.

“Oh! Uh– well I gotta go– see you later y/n!” Your friend coughs and runs off to her car. You watch her leave with a confused look. I mean, you two did come to the concert in your designated cars, but what the hell was that about?

You turn back to Yeonjun embarrassed. “Ah, sorry… how can I help?”

Really? The hottest member of the band is talking to you and you're asking him how you can help like he’s a customer at a grocery store?

Yeonjun chuckles and stares you down, tongue in cheek, and you shiver from the attention.

“I wanted to get a better look at you, pretty face was starin’ at me the whole concert.”

You laugh nervously and place your hands on your hips. You decided that you’d entertain him. “Well, how could I not? Your performance really caught my attention.” You prayed to whatever God was out there that Yeonjun couldn’t sense the way your entire body tensed from his gaze.

“Mine or my band’s?” He smirks and you feel a lump in your throat. You wanted to just pass out then and there.

“Y- yours of course..” You mumble, toying with the hem of your outfit. Since when did a man make you so nervous?

“Is that so..?” He steps closer to you and offers his hand. “You wanna grab a drink or a cig?” He tilts his head and you stare at him with wide eyes. You felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh.. sure…? What about your bandmates though?” You were really trying to remain unfazed by his forwardness.

“They'll be doing their own thing, let's go yeah?” Yeonjun gently grabs your wrist and is pulling you along with him, fully oblivious to the stares you were receiving from the concert’s remaining attendees.

Yeonjun takes you backstage, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping throughout your ears as he opened the door to his changing room.

The room was dimly lit, with a crappy light flickering every few minutes. Yeonjun’s clothes were tossed around, makeup vanity in disarray, and gifts and flowers from fans were neatly placed in the corner on a table. You hold your breath as Yeonjun closes the door behind him, lock clicking

You had no idea what was going on or how you even got in this situation, you had simply just attended this concert for the sake of your friend not wanting to come alone. Now here you were, backstage in the lead singer’s dressing room and you had no idea what he wanted with you.. but the burning feeling inside your stomach begged you to stay and your curiosity grew.

“Make yourself comfy, or just stand there, I won’t rush you.” Yeonjun laughs as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket. He lights it and holds it out to you.

He places the end towards your mouth and you inhale, Yeonjun licks his lips as he watches the way your mouth wraps around it. “Darling.. you really know how to tease a guy huh?”

You stare at each other as you exhale the smoke and the burning in your throat is nothing compared to the burning heat throughout your body. This man had an effect on you in the same way you were affecting him.

You take this opportunity to stare up at Yeonjuns face, his features even more handsome now that you were this close. You take in the way his damp hair sat perfectly on his face, the smell of sweat and his cologne radiating off of him. The choker he wore called your attention to his neck and the way his sweat had dried mostly but you could still make out where the droplets had sat. You swallow and your eyes find their way back to Yeonjun’s.

Yeonjun notices your tension and smirks. “Like what you see pretty girl?” God why was he so fucking attractive.

“Maybe I do.. Is there an issue with that?” You stare at Yeonjun and the look on your face is enough for him to know what you wanted. You really wanted to regain control of the situation, so you decided to tease him further. “Yeonjun, right?.. You sure you wanna be alone with me in this room right now?”

Yeonjun scoffs at your reply. “Why? You trynna be one of my girls tonight?” Yeonjun quirked an eyebrow at you with a smug look, casually leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitched.

You bite your lip at the suggestion, what was this man playing at? “And what if I do?”

Oh, you were playing with fire.

“You sure you want this? You know how many girls would kill for your position right now?” Yeonjun queries as he carries himself over to you. It finally dawns on you that you both really were alone in his dressing room and that his body was too close to yours, completely leaving you trapped between him and the wall behind you.

You could feel the way Yeonjun’s body heat begged to intertwine with yours, you felt your muscles weaken under him as he placed an arm on each side of your face on the wall. The room felt smaller and the scent of the cigarette in his mouth lingers around you as his breath alone practically envelops your senses.

Honestly, at this point, it didn’t matter how many girls he’s been with, hell you could care less if he even contacted you after this. You wanted him.

“I know well what I’m getting into.” You confidently stare up into Yeonjun’s intense gaze, feeling the way his eyes are scanning every curve of your body. 

“Alright tough girl, can you handle this though?” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and pulls the cigarette from his mouth with the other hand, placing it near your skin just enough so you feel the slight burn.

“Ah– ah! Yeonjun–!” You choke and he cackles at the way you weakly attempt to pull away. You stare up at him, eyes slightly watery but the way your legs feel like jelly from the way he's treating you makes you slightly crave more.

“Relax darlin’, I wouldn’t hurt a single hair on you.” Yeonjun drops the cigarette to the floor and crushes it with his boot, still holding your wrist tightly.

He pulls your wrist over your head and he finally pushes his body up to yours. You inhale into his shoulder and Yeonjun’s beaming from the way you just lean into him. He relished in the way you let him do what he wanted to you.

“Stay for me, will you? Kinda like the way you looked up at me from the crowd with that pretty face.” The biggest grin spreads across Yeonjun’s handsome face and of course, who were you to say no? You were more than willing to let this man break you.

After all, you were now his biggest fan.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Alright you three @auds-and-evens @energievie and @lingy910y

that have tagged me in WIP Wednesday.

My indecisive, ADHD, executive dysfuntion having ass can't decide which WIP to work on, which means I haven't worked on ANY.

SOOOO I'm gonna put little synopses of each and have the good people of tumblr decide.

Since I don't have the poll feature you'll have to comment.

Kight In A Shining Youber the one shot that turned to a multi chapter. Mickey is an Uber driver and picks up a fucked up Ian at the Fairy Tale with an older man. During the drive he keeps older man from fucking with Ian and then takes care of Ian. Finds out Ian owes a drug lord thousands of dollars and helps him with that, both of them falling in love along the way.

The Upside A mashup 'Me Before You' and 'The Upside' AU, Mickey is just getting out of prison and Svetlana won't let him stay with her and Yev. He applies for a job not knowing it was a caretaker position.

Ian is a C6/C7 quadriplegic thanks to a manic bipolar episode. After getting out of the hospital for another reason Fiona and Lip decide he needs a caretaker. In comes Mickey.

Can We Skip To The Good Stuff- Ian and his brothers are in a band together PICL and are performing in Chicago. This go round they have a VIP concert experience where they play dodgeball with the fans and Mandy Milkovich brings her brother Mickey along. Mickey beams Ian in the face not knowing who he is, he gets taken to a room where Ian finally comes in and they talk, set up a date later. Then when the show starts Mickey is completely thrown that the bruised redhead is the lead singer.

Valorous Vigilantes- Ian and Carl work together in a EMT/cop unit. They get called to the Alibi where a fight has broken out. Mickey just came out for his boyfriend Trevor (who dumped him right after) and Terry beat the shit out of him. Ian gets a soft spot for Mickey and goes above and beyond the typical EMT duties to help him out.

Once Upon A Food Truck- Ian and Mickey have rival food trucks in the park pavilion. Mickey's truck keeps stealing Ian's customers so a prank war starts. After a few weeks of that they figure out that they are being shipped online and decide to start fake dating to get them both more customers and possibly win a food truck competition.

I have two Stranger Things fics that are WIPS, but I really want to finish my Gallavich ones. Especially because I have a whole fuckton of ideas for more.

I'm tagging more of my mutuals to get more eyes on this to help me figure out what I want to write on next because I miss writing SO MUCH.

@ian-galagher @suzy-queued @celestialmickey @xninetiestrendx @gardenerian @michellemisfit @such-a-barbarian @suchagallabitch @iansfreckles @mikhailoisbaby @juliakayyy @gallawitchxx @flamingbluepanda @trans-alpha-male @milkmaidovich @surviving-maybe @deedala @whatwouldmickeydo @scurvgirl @lupeloto @imnotbrokenimme @guinguin1984 @stocious @too-schoolforcool @golden28s @francesrose3 @softmick @deathclassic @gillyp @look-i-love-u @tsuga-of-mars @creepkinginc @mzshko @sweetbee78 @mmmichyyy @smokey-mickey @ianstummy @imikhailotakeyouian @sickness-health-all-that-shit @twinklyylights @rayrayor @spacerockwriting @thisdivorce @sleepyfacetoughguy @deedala @tidalrace

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember off the top of my head (and a few I had to look up) if I didn't tag you feel 10000% free to comment and vote, hell share around too if you want.

[hxllfires-gifs]

PAIRING. thomas raggi x fem!reader

SUMMARY. måneskin is competing in eurovision and thomas’ girlfriend surprises him with the help of their friends, to support her lover who thought that she would be staying home because of work.

WORD COUNT. 897

Y/N L/N WALKED around the airport after her flight finally landed and she gathered her luggage. She had flown to Rotterdam in order to surprise her boyfriend Thomas. The grand final of Eurovision was later on and there was a specific time that she needed to meet her friends at the venue. She made plans with Victoria, Ethan, and Damiano to surprise the youngest member but she also wanted to be there to support her friends.

She had a taxi take her to the place and she was met by Victoria who ushered her to the backstage area. She would be sitting in the green room with them once the finals actually started, but for now she was ready to see her partner. The two girls walked for a little longer before the H/C haired girl came to a stop. She could heard Thomas’ voice speaking to Ethan and Damiano most likely.

“What is this surprise?” Thomas asked, a tiny bit annoyed that his friends were trying to keep something from him and would not tell him. He had asked about it like fifty times, yet he still got no straightforward response.

“We will tell you soon, just be patient!” It was the singer who spoke up this time, his voice being louder than he intended. “You are going to love it, that’s all I can say for now.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at the two other males, not wanting to talk about it anymore because of the fact they were so hush hush. He wondered what could be so important but everyone in the band could be a little on the unpredictable side sometimes. Who knows what they had in store for him.

“Stay right there for a second,” Victoria’s words were more quiet so that Thomas was unable to hear. She turned and walked back into the dressing room with a smirk present on her face, not attempting to hide anything from the younger male.

Her slight mischievous energy gained his attention, causing him to focus on Victoria completely. “Why do you look like that? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” His words held a teasing tone to them.

“Why do you assume I did something?” It wasn’t long before she feigned offense, not able to do it for too long though.

She glanced at Ethan and Damiano, who had the same type of expressions on their faces. It was time for them to reveal the big surprise. The bassist was excited to see how her friend would react. His girlfriend had been working a lot recently and originally thought that she wouldn’t be able to go to Rotterdam, but fate had different plans.

The de Angelis started explaining what she and the other two had been keeping from Thomas. “We are finally ready to tell you about your surprise. You’ve seemed a little…disappointed recently, so we wanted to cheer you up with someone special.”

This was Y/N’s cue to made her presence known so she joined the band in the room and her eyes immediately landed on the guy she loved so much. A look of disbelief had flashed upon his features but it was soon replaced with happiness. Thomas walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped his arms around her, feeling tears in his eyes that he tried to keep at bay.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t able to come because of work. Are you staying for the finals?” There were so many thoughts in his brain that he almost couldn’t keep up.

Y/N laughed, finding his reaction a little funny but more-so precious. “Yes, I am staying for the finals and afterwards. I’ll go back home with you guys. I honestly thought I wouldn’t but I worked something out with my boss and she let me take a couple of days off. I talked with these three about surprising you and hopped on the first flight here that I could get.”

She rubbed his back once she felt his hands fidgeting, which was a habit that he had picked up because of her. He was the happiest person and it was obvious in that moment. The girl stepped back a bit and it didn’t take long for their eyes to lock with one other’s gaze. He had a couple of tears that escaped, which made Y/N frown for a split second.

She wiped them away before kissing his cheeks. “Angel, I’m here, okay. I came here to support you guys. I could never miss out on something as big as this.”

“I was convinced that I’d have to do this without you, but I’m happy that you’re here now.” Thomas’ confession almost broke the L/N’s heart but she was over the moon that she could be here in person to cheer him on like he and their friends deserved.

“I hate to break up this sweet moment but we have to finish getting ready,” Damiano reminded his band mates.

Y/N placed a hand on her boyfriend’s arm and smiled once more. “I’ll be here all night so go and get ready, rockstar.”

Thomas playfully rolled his eyes but did as she and Damiano said, going to change into his outfit for their performance. It was going to be a crazy night but he felt like it would be ten times better now that Y/N was with him.

[jellogram]

Cool Examples of Art Forms You Might Think Are Boring

Here's a handful of remarkable works of art forms with a reputation for being boring, stuffy, or inaccessible. These are pieces that I think give a decent introduction to the art form, showcase some interesting benefits of it, and/or that might appeal to people who have previously shrugged or turned up their nose at the genre. I was disinterested in these genres until I was blessed with enough college elective credits to delve deeper into them so here are some curated selections, almost all of them are on YouTube and the opera and ballet clips are mostly under 5 minutes. Have a look around, check out whatever sounds interesting, and feel free to link to more examples.

Silent Films

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: German expressionist horror from 1920. Very stylistically driven and massively influential. The sets alone are worth the watching, and it's essential viewing for any horror fan.

Nosferatu: Another classic horror film, very on-season for Dracula Daily readers. This and the Caligari version above are both updated to have English captions built in.

Le Voyage dans la Lune: Short film from 1902 by Georges Méliès. Méliès is widely known for being arguably the first special effects artist, and this is pretty well agreed upon as the first sci fi movie. If the first part bores you, at least check out the moon set.

The Adventures of Prince Achmed: This 1926 film is the oldest surviving feature length animated film (65 minutes) and it's absolutely stunning. It's created with silhouetted paper cut outs and took three years to make. Vimeo.

Metropolis: This one might be too long for silent film novices at 2.5 hours, but it needs at least a mention. Most lists have this film as their number one silent movie and it's not for no reason.

The Passion of Joan of Arc: This film is mostly known for its groundbreaking use of close-ups and facial expressions. I can't find a good quality version with English subtitles (let me know if you have one) so here's a short clip to show off those camera angles.

Opera

L'incoronazione di Poppea: If you want to get more into opera, why not start with a clip from an opera by the man usually credited with inventing opera. Beautiful piece of music that demonstrates the early days of the art form and a great example of a countertenor (male soprano). The singers also do an excellent job portraying how weird and messed up this relationship actually is.

Salome: To fulfill your "woman covered in blood" needs.

Sellars' Don Giovanni: A 1990 version of Mozart's 1787 masterpiece set in the 1980s in Harlem. A neat take on my personal favorite opera. The rest of the opera is available in segments on Youtube.

Cinderella: A campy 1981 version of a very catchy melody from Rossini.

Wozzeck: I have never seen a version of this that wasn't batshit insane and that's how it should be. This is a later opera from the 1920s that is meant to be atonal and bizarre. It's avant-garde, a little disturbing, and very expressionist. This is a clip from a 2016 version.

The Magic Flute Animation: More Mozart! The first three videos in this playlist are from an animated (and heavily shortened) English version of the Magic Flute. A great way to experience the story and some of the music without watching a whole opera.

The Night Queen Aria: which is from the Magic Flute. If you've only heard one aria, it's probably this one. This is, in my opinion, the best version.

Ballet

Alice in Wonderland: A clip of the tap-based Mad Tea Party scene, featuring great costumes. This performance has a lot of really neat scenes, and I'd also recommend the Middle Eastern-inspired Caterpillar scene (I mean just look at this man move).

Swan Lake coda: These two can fly. A great clip of a famous coda that demonstrates just how superhuman these dancers need to be.

Mr. Jeremy Fisher: This is the frog ballet that you've definitely seen gifs of on tumblr. I can't find the whole thing, but here's a 5 minute clip that also shows off that beautiful set.

Frankenstein: I never knew I needed this but I love it. This clip is more acting than dancing, so here's another that shows off some ballet skills.

Don Quixote: I just love the joy in this scene, and those floaty skirts are amazing. Also someone gets slapped by a fish.

Edward Scissorhands: Another interesting adaption choice. Watch the way they have to dance so that the scissors never touch her skin, that is highly unnatural for a duet and must have been very difficult to choreograph.

If there's another art form you think people should give a second look, let me know!

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 28/10/2023 (The Kid LAROI/Central Cee, blink-182's 'ONE MORE TIME...')

Content warning: Cynicism and brief masturbation

For a third week, Kenya Grace’s “Strangers” is at the top of the UK Singles Chart, and welcome back to a quieter, later episode of REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

Now the Official Charts Company was so delayed in posting the chart this week that I am so incredibly late in actually getting the chance to write this rundown section. Alas, let’s do a speedrun here - firstly we always start with the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40, you know it, yadda-yadda-yadda. This week we bid adieu to: “DArkSide” by Bring Me the Horizon, “I Do” by Nines featuring who the Hell cares, “Hide and Seek” by 163Margs featuring Digga D, “PARK CHINOIS” by Headie One and K-Trap, “Rich Men North of Richmond” by Oliver Anthony Music, “Hell n Back” by Bakar and finally, “So Much in Love” by D.O.D. It had a good run.

As for our gains and returns, we see re-entries for bottom-feeders like “Riptide” by Vance Joy at #75 and “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac at #66, as well as the new Rolling Stones album letting “Angry” slip back at #73, “Lil Boo Thang” by Paul Russell sprouting legs at #65 and “bad idea right?” by Olivia Rodrigo doing weird three-song-rule shenanigans at #46 because of course. And as for our gains, we see boosts for - bear with me - “Style” by Taylor Swift at #62 (watch that space), “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac at #56, “Party All the Time” by Hannah Laing and HVRR at #53, “ONE MORE TIME” by blink-182 at #42 thanks to the album, “Calm Down” by Rema at #39, “Me & U” by Tems at #36, “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta at #29, “Agora Hills” by Doja Cat at #28, “Pompeii” by Bastille at #26, “One of Your Girls” by Troye Sivan and finally, Noah Kahan grabs his first top 10 with “Stick Season” at #9.

As for our top five, it’s pretty expected - “Water” by Tyla is at #5, which I’m never going to complain about, and then we have “greedy” by Tate McRae at #4, “Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift at #3  gaining off of the back of a re-release featuring a live version and a remix - more of her to come next week - and then “Prada” by casso, RAYE and D-Block Europe at #2 with of course, “Strangers” at #1. Now to see what this smaller week may have to offer in its pattering of shoddy new entries.

NEW ARRIVALS

#63 - “Sensational” - Chris Brown featuring Davido and Lojay

Produced by DJ Hardwerk, BigRagee, Krazytunez and XQ

Davido and Lojay are Nigerian singers so it seems like Chris Brown’s latest ploy is to slot himself within Afrobeats, a genre wherein he… honestly fits pretty well. A lot of male Afrobeats singers have nasal, Auto-Tuned voices saved by their potent, earnest delivery. That’s Breezy’s vocal default in a nutshell… so why is he trying to be cool here? He plays off the wavy, tropical shuffling with a level of restraint and subtlety you rarely hear from the guy ever, I guess to match the sample-esque murky backing vocals from Lojay. It’s not a bad groove either, but it honestly kind of disappoints me that he didn’t go full-out with the classic Chris Brown approach, even if he does do some obnoxious “na-na-na”s and those staccato harmonies as usual. It doesn’t help that this song doesn’t have a good hook, despite Sean Kingston being behind the writing of all people. There’s just nothing catchy about this song, which seems to focus much more on atmosphere… which makes no sense! It’s a club dance song where the girl’s body is described as sensational, where’s the sensation? Davido tries, bless him, but as a result of the song’s misplaced “coolness” pretence, he just sounds out of place. And Lojay’s verse is embarrassing - “booty wider than the Internet”? Really? Sigh, given it’s Chris Brown, it could be a lot worse.

#57 - “IT GIRL” - Aliyah’s Interlude

Produced by Lxnely Beats

It’s been a while since we got a straight-up TikTok viral song, it feels, but rising star Aliyah’s Interlude - what made you go with that name? - seems to have cultivated a pretty loyal fanbase and specific terminology, some of which is mentioned in the song, already so this could either be the start of a big deal or a complete meme fluke. And God, I hope this is a fluke because this is insufferable. It’s not even insufferable in a moral or boring way, it’s just annoying. The Eurodance throwback synth is obnoxious, the plodding percussion is lazy, and whilst Aliyah’s Interlude herself is clearly full of passion and character, it is actually to the detriment of an already minimal, annoying song. It seems the intent was either to be primal or overwhelming, but that synth is so distracting that I can’t fully understand the cult of personality with borderline comedy-rap verses and an admittedly very good use of spelling out the title in chorus. I believe that this is what one could claim as “slaying”, and I kind of get it, but it’s just too much of a stressful listen for me. That synth, it just never stops. I’m sure Aliyah’s Interlude would shine on more polished production as her performance here is close to salvaging something but that may come years down the line. For now, God, please don’t make this a hit.

#55 - “DANCE WITH ME” - blink-182

Produced by Travis Barker

This is such a dry week that I could aptly describe it as being victim to a blink-182 album bomb, or at least as much as the UK Singles Chart will allow. At least they debuted some songs from their #2 album ONE MORE TIME… unlike the Rolling Stones at #1. Anyway, this was a pre-release single only charting now thanks to the album, and it has a music video that mimics that of the Ramones’ “I Wanna be Sedated”, which the track also interpolates. The 1978 track was never released as an A-side single in the UK so failed to chart, but has been set in stone as one of the classic punk outfit’s most iconic songs. I assume that as a result we have a pretty straightforward punk throwback from blink, and for the most part we do, but it’s not really a good one. I love Travis Barker’s cavernous drumming and production of course, and it will always will give a certain base level of quality to these songs, but blink aren’t doing anything new here, or doing something they’ve already done particularly well. There’s a weird bitter venom in Tom DeLonge’s delivery and an apathetic disinterest in Mark Hoppus’ voice that both miss the mark for a song about dancing - or masturbating, if the awkward intro is to be believed - all night long. The chorus is basic but somehow not even catchy, it’s just expected and predictable. At this point with blink, maybe that’s all we should settle for? It just sucks that I know how interesting they can be.

#48 - “ANTHEM PART 3” - blink-182

Produced by Travis Barker

This is the opening track on the record and one that follows in the footsteps of their older “Anthem” tracks, signaling their big comeback. The original “Anthem” from 1999’s Enema of the State is actually the outro to the album, and is fittingly out of fuel considering the rest of the album’s energy that this track seems desperate to grab onto, which sounds like a complaint but considering the fantastic drumming, atrocious vocal delivery and mixing, incredibly cathartic post-chorus, I’d say it sums up the aftermath of a reckless party pretty damn well. The issue here is that “Anthem” plays a lot into the idea that parents - probably a further analogy for authority in general - possess a lot of power behind what fun can actually be had, with “Anthem Part Two”, the opener of 2001’s Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, playing even further into that by basically making it a protest against how the youth are having their futures ruined by those in power who are from generations prior. It sums up pop punk’s teenage rebellion side pretty well - it’s not good, it’s formulaic and surprisingly dull, but I can understand why it is held up as the anthem it claims out the gate to be. Now here’s the real problem: blink-182 are now the parents. What do they rebel against this time around? Life, in general. Actual adult life in fact. It’s an uplifting track with rapid, awkwardly-mixed drums and a seemingly constant crescendo of guitars that merges into a muddy, gross stretch of noise under Tom DeLonge, but an uplifting track nonetheless, an anthem for people who have been played with by the nine-to-five and tedious career. The really resonant bridge from Mark Hoppus, who recently came out of his struggle with cancer, ends with a line about no-one caring for the eventuality of him dying… but it gets cut short, taken away by the chorus. This could be a pretty effective decision, if it weren’t the only part of the song that I actually liked or moved me in any way, with even the classic pop punk drop-into-half-time trick just coming off as tired. Whilst all of these “Anthem” tracks are tired, exhausted last bursts of anger, this one is tired in a particularly sad way. It’s a pathetic song, one that can’t really be called “ANTHEM”… and that’s fine. In fact, it’s slightly endearing and not even really a slight towards the song. It’s just kind of sad to hear.

#41 - “In the City” - Charli XCX and Sam Smith

Produced by A.G. Cook, Charli XCX, George Daniel, ILYA and Omer Fedi

I have no idea what either of these artists are doing career-wise at this very moment. It seems like both Charli and Sam are struggling to hold onto the balance between mass appeal and niche novelty, and Sam may be in a similar spot to where Charli was back in the mid-2010s, or at least appears to have some kind of dissatisfaction with pop stardom as a fact rather than how they viewed it when it was a promise. Basically, it makes complete sense for the two to collaborate, and it also makes complete sense that the song is… just bad. A.G. Cook is on the boards here but his style is so washed out by the pop songwriters also involved that even Charli sounds disinterested. It’s hyperpop lite, with some interesting lyrics about finding your true self after meeting a partner in New York City’s sprawling nightlife, but over some particularly dull four-on-the-floor percussion and with vocal effects - particularly on Sam Smith’s voice - that overwhelm the actual performance, making it feel programmed and somehow so professional it breaches back onto amateur, in a cyclical motion I didn’t think could even happen. I know Charli fans will defend her continuing to experiment whilst also spreading out to mainstream pop tracks but let’s be real, how far is this really from a Joel Corry song? A.G. Cook could have had nothing to do with this and it’d sound the same. Everyone here just seems tired and confused with what to do with themselves, in an awkwardly passionless single that seemingly isn’t connected to an album yet and doesn’t have a video. Sam Smith is nowhere to be seen in the cover art or even the picture used for the YouTube audio video. This is just… nothing.

#10 - “TOO MUCH” - The Kid LAROI, Jung Kook and Central Cee

Produced by Blake Slatkin, Jasper Harris, Emile Haynie and Omer Fedi

You know, this is kind of refreshing. For once, there is no discourse. It is just a simple idea that this top 10 hit by three big-name artists, including a BTS member, with a stacked production list, Scooter Braun single push is a bad song, and that’s fine. There is nothing immoral about the song’s badness, there’s nothing particularly annoying or sad about the song’s badness, there’s nothing even all that boring about the song’s badness. It’s just bad, sometimes comically, and I’m honestly okay with that. The vocal sample is filtered to crap and placed against a similarly weightless, chippy snap and ladders of gross, inhuman leads and sounds, none of which actually seem like they actually want your attention. The chorus has too much empty space punctuated by… bilingual breathing, The Kid LAROI’s verse goes for a desperate and annoying delivery which doesn’t last too long but is still overly whiny, Central Cee is in full rent-a-rapper mode and despite having a completely fine, on-beat flow, he still somehow sounds awkward with his typically toxic, sexual lyrics that don’t go too far to be immoral, just more weird and overly wordy and detailed, maybe manipulative at times. The Kid LAROI’s second attempt at a pre-chorus is actually pretty good, he sounds great, especially on the backing vocals, right before the final chorus, wherein I couldn’t tell where he ends and Jung Kook begins. In fact, Mr. Kook has jack to do in this song. The song just seems to reflect how all three of these guys are at least slightly complacent, facing slightly less favourable results than they expected commercially but still doing well enough and is a piece of apathetic male pop music no one is actually seeking out too much anymore - and apparently Justin Bieber was supposed to be on this at some point and still has a writing credit, so that rings extra true. But that’s all it reflects. It’s just bad, and if anything sums up this week of new arrivals, it’s that: just bad.

Conclusion

And yeah, that wasn’t really hyperbole in any way. I liked none of what little the charts had to offer this week. I can barely give a sincere Best of the Week and really, Chris Brown is a runner-up for the most quality song here, which is a depressing state of affairs. He’s not getting it though, at least blink-182 gave me a lot to say with “ANTHEM PART 3”. As for the worst, I mean, pick any of them but I think I’ll give to “In the City” by Charli XCX and Sam Smith for making me feel absolutely nothing, with Aliyah’s Interlude as the Dishonourable Mention with “IT GIRL” for making me feel a pounding headache. Taylor’s next and then we’re in the holiday dregs for the next two months. Thank you for reading, sorry for the delay - genuinely out of my control, complain to the Official Charts Company - and I’ll see you next week!

[slurpinpuffs]

hi yall! let me take you on a journey i went on today

it's pretty long, but read more to learn about some rather obscure black musical artists! ^u^

okay, so i found this song on a random Spotify playlist a long time ago and i *love* it. i love it a lot, all the women on the song have such amazing voices, but my favorite is the girl who sings the "respect the melanin, papi!" part (we'll get to her name later)

so i came back to this song today and was like, "i wanna hear more of them, especially my fav girl!" so i go to Google and look up NxxxxxS

oh, he was the producer i guess? the song's on his album, but he's not the singer. okay, let's look at the feature then, M.A.N

uhh, okay, that's not them either. i don't really know who this is honestly? but it's not the 3 women on the song, so i kinda don't care. let's find the music video for more details!

wow, they're really beautiful... but what have we learned so far?

the song is all English, but they're French!

the song has an artist named Senpu who apparently played bass? why were they not on the Spotify?

the girls are a group called Girls Do It Better(?)

two links!!!

to IG links, one to @man.bowdown (M.A.N again???), the other to @gdibcrew, which i assume is Girls Do It Better Crew

oh. neither of these pages exist...

i was able to find another IG page just by searching for gdibcrew, tho!

okay, so it's a women's collective in Paris. cool! but it's a private account with 0 posts, so it's pretty much dead. but there's a website li--

ah, that's down too :p

at this point, i tell this story to My Lovely Partner and they find a Vogue article titled Paris Girls Do It Better! Meet the City’s New DJ and Fashion Collective:

wow, still so beautiful... and there's more than 3! the collective debuted in 2014 apparently.

the article tells us a lot about these girls, their background and influences. check it out if ur interested!

even better, the article links to all of their Instagrams!

unfortunately, all of the links are either broken or lead to the wrong pages (the girls likely changed usernames) except for three:

Bibi Seck, who's a DJ. not one of the girls in the song, but i'm happy to have found her

Kyo Jino, the aforementioned male stylist who also wasn't on the song, but does have some really nice fashion on his page

and Khleopatre, who is a make-up artist, model, and art director with her own makeup line. notably, not a musician or any of the women on Brown Sugar, but i found a cool and artsy interview of her, so check that out if ur interested in her. she's really stunning and super unique

okay, so we learned more about GDIB, but not much about the specific women in the song, the point of this entire journey!

let's just google Girls Do It Better some more and see if we can find anything else

oh hey, a YouTube channel! only 4 videos, but it'll do.

OH BUT WAIT THAT'S HER

it's one of the girls from the video!! :O and she's the one from my favorite part of the song, too!!!

it's a freestyle rap called Singeries!! the video calls her Kitsuné Kendra, so i assume she's also Khenndrah from the article earlier

the vid also links to her Instagram, which links to her most recent single, ivresse (French for intoxication), on her new YouTube channel which has a bunch more songs, storytimes, and vlogs n stuff!! :D

she also performs at the Coyote Club with a non-binary artist named Sun Afrika!

okay cool, we found one! but what about the other two? it doesn't seem like all three of them made any other music as a trio sadly, but i found one thing!

a French interview on a site named Konbini linked to a JOUR/NÉ post on Instagram that tagged the girls. the three rightmost girls are the ones from the Brown Sugar video as far as i can tell, and the girl on the left seems to be another DJ/producer on the collective. according to the Konbini article, Yamiko and Bibi Seck are DJs/ producers, so the left girl may have been one of them, but it doesn't seem like she goes by either name anymore at least.

Unfortunately, @/noramens was a private account, but it was the same private account as the link to the name Lil' Felisha on the Vogue article, meaning that was at least her artist name at the time.

the next tagged account @/syra.mariah was active and open!

and just like that, we have another Instagram secured! it looks like whatever her name was in the Black Sugar era -- according to the article, Rainbow, Echo, and Lil' Felisha are singers in the GDIB collective, so she probably went by either Rainbow or Echo -- she now goes by SYRA!

her last song was in 2021, but her last video, a music video for her song Believe, was released a year ago, so she's still active! she has a really beautiful voice and style, so i'm super happy to have found her too!! <33

unfortunately, after googling around and searching Spotify, YouTube, and Soundcloud, i wasn't able to find any more info on the third girl on Brown Sugar, Lil' Felisha. based on the fact that he tagged Instagram page is privated with 1 post, and the fact that Lil' Felisha doesn't seem to be an artist on Spotify, i have assume she isn't really making music anymore. a bit of a disappointing end, as i really loved her performance in that song, but i'm honestly happy i was able to find the other two girls

so, in the end, here's who was singing on Brown Sugar:

(still not super sure who M.A.N is...)

thanks for joining me on this rly long story, sorry for keeping so many unnecessary details, i just wanted you all to experience the journey with me <3 go listen to Kitsuné Kendra's newest song ivresse (i also rly love Singeries on the old channel) and SYRA's newest video for Believe! and also, go listen to the song that started this whole thing, Brown Sugar! i promise, it's a really good listen. peace and love or whatever!!

[missluckycharms]

You, Me and Harry make three. Part Two.

Summary: Joey, Izzy and Harry are in a poly relationship. They're head over heels for one another and they can't seem to keep their hands off each another, even when they really need to.

Harry is the Harry Styles, the man who is known for being so open and lovable. He's nervous to let the world see his girls, what would his fans think If he was dating two girls at the same time? And they all shared the one bed and home? He doesn't want to know, he wants them all to himself.

This small story follows the three and their rendezvous together behind the scenes.

Masterlist.

Part One.

Warnings: Switch!Harry, Mommy kink, slight Daddy kink, FxFxM threesome, fingering, oral sex f+m receiving, Male + Female penetrative sex, Female + Female sex, spanking, choking, hair pulling, sneaking around (?) masturbation and mentions of it, degradation kink, praise kink, dirty talking, anal play, biting, polyamorous relationship.

A/N: Izzy and Joey are OCs! Their features will be discussed in this, if you don’t want to envision them how I write them, feel free to use your own images of them! I hope you’ve enjoyed them as much as I have! Harry Joey and Izzy are now my new babies, and I will protect them with my whole heart 🥺

Word count: 5.3k.

—

"This place is amazing!"

"If singing on stage gives you this, sign me up for your supporting act H!"

Harry smiles and laughs watching his girls, the pair in awe running about the Italian villa he owns, hidden away amongst shrubbery and gated security, no one only Harry and his team know about this villa, it's a very secret location that Harry has done all he can to not let people find this place. It's not as grand as you would think it would be, a millionaire rockstar having a smallish Italian villa decorated mainly in old vintage Italian furniture, is not something you would hear of very often, most singers would have penthouses with the latest technology and fast cars in the driveway — not Harry, he would take this small secluded villa with a vintage convertible in the driveway over a multi million dollar penthouse with a Lamborghini in the front.

"Recognise the decor?" He asks as they both walk back in, their sunglasses pushed up into their hairs and their summer dresses flowing above their knees, their smiles bright and their arms linked as they look at Harry before them.

"No way! It's the theme we suggested for this place! Look Iz, it's the painting you suggested we buy in the art gallery last time we went to France!"

Joey says tugging Izzys arm and pointing at a large painting on the wall behind the dining table, the silhouette of a woman laying on a sofa with fabric draped over her, the sofa situated on a balcony as the sunset casts down onto her making her dark against the painting, the sunset the main focus as the arch of the balcony door in the golden hues of the sunset seeping in around the room. Harry fell in love with it in the gallery the last time they all took a trip there, Izzy grabbing his hand and pulling him towards where it was being showcased as Joey chatted to the artist about another piece that caught her eye. Harry loved the way Izzy was in awe over this work of art, he knew instantly he needed it somewhere personal and private for them all, he knew this villa he was had being done up would be the perfect place for the painting.

It was all perfect, and Harry loved it.

"I think she looks like Jo, that's why I loved it. See? The curves and the way she's laid out — confident and beautiful, it's our Jo!" Izzy says sweetly, causing Joey to kiss her head and nod for Harry to join them, the three of them all hugging and looking up at the painting, Izzy squished in the middle as Joey and Harry hold onto her with love.

"I think, we should have a wine and pasta night — right way to start our vacation, mmh?" Harry asks kissing the two girls heads, the pair looking at him with all the adoration in the world, his white goggle glasses pushed into his curly hair, his long sleeve white and navy shirt on his torso along with linen white trousers on his legs accompanied by scruffy vans with pink laces on his feet, he looked like art — if they could, they would chose him as the painting for the wall.

"Are you cooking it? Mister pasta chef?" Joey asks teasing him by brushing her nose off his, the pair close to one another as Izzy rests her head on Joey's arm looking at Harry and Joey tease one another with little kisses and lip bites filled with small laughs and breathy moans.

"I'll try my best, how about you two clean up? You both must be worn out and sweaty from our trip here" he says with a wink, kissing the two girls before disappearing off into the kitchen, a near skip in his step as he smiles heading to make dinner for him and his girls.

"I think he was jealous of our bathroom trip" Joey says as Izzy laughs blushing a little, Joey wrapping her arm around her shoulder and kissing her forehead many times as they walk and laugh towards their bedroom, the bathroom awaiting them — much like the bathroom in Harry's private jet did.

As the girls fill up the bathtub, giggles and lavender filled bubbles kissing their skin as they share time together, soft innocent touches and jokes passed back and forth as they washed one another and kissed showing affection amongst many small cuddle sessions that always ended up with Izzy plastering lavender bubbles on Joey's face when she closed her eyes to relax, Joey retaliating with splashing water at Izzy as she fights back, their laughs echoing around the villa as Harry smiles to himself, his music playing not being loud enough to block out their laughs.

The kitchen is dimly lit, candles filled the space as his record player spins an old Fleetwood Mac vinyl of his, the sunset casting a slight hue through the back doors of the villa, the curtains framing the glass doors blowing slightly in the summer breeze of Italy. Harry is humming while stirring the pasta, his body filled with warmth and excitement as he prepares the meal, sauce in a pan while he cooks the pasta, flour on his apron from when he tried to make pasta from scratch from a recipe book he bought the last time he was here alone, this is the first time he's brought his girls here — it's safe to say, he'll never come here alone again, it's meant to be filled with laughs and the smell of pasta cooking while Fleetwood Mac dances around the aroma scented villa, Harry knows he can never come here alone again.

He would never want to come here alone again.

"Is that meatballs I smell?" Izzy says skipping out into the kitchen, her hair damp and Harry's black vintage Pink Floyd on her body, a pair of his boxers on her legs as shorts as she nearly dances into Harrys arms as he holds them out, turning them both so they're facing the stove, his hand stirring the sauce and meatballs with a wooden spoon as Izzy cuddles into him.

"Here, take a taste — we all know you're the meatball connoisseur" Harry laughs, holding up half a meatball covered in tomato sauce filled with herbs and spices he found. She leans forward and wraps her lips around the end of the spoon, her tongue lapping up all the sauce along with the meat as she pulls away looking at him with furrowed brows as she tastes it, swishing it about and gathering up all the flavours he's added in.

"Good?" He asks nervously, her silence deafening as she smiles, leaning over to lick the remainders off the spoon while holding eye contact with him.

"Your sauce always tastes nice, H" she says kissing his neck, holding eye contact with him as she spins around and heads back towards the bedroom, his mouth slightly open as he watches her leave, her small frame disappearing as he gulps while turning his attention back to the food.

"How's our boy getting on?" Joey asks brushing through her hair, Izzy watching her in awe sitting behind her on the bed, Joey's eyes on her in the mirror as she sits at the vanity smiling at her.

"Dancing to Stevie and making dinner, he's okay" she giggles as Joey smiles, leaving down her hairbrush and joining Izzy on their bed, another one of Harry's t shirts on her body also, a white Rolling Stones t shirt, small holes in the neck and hem of the shirt from how long Harry has owned it and wore it. Harry is obsessed with seeing them in his clothes, always telling them to wear his shirts around the house when they're all alone — he loves seeing them wrapped in his things, claiming them as his and only his.

"We should feel bad for letting him cook alone" Joey says leaning over Izzy, straddling her waist as her chin knocks against their forehead gently to signal for her to lay down, her brown damp hair fanning around her head as Joey rests above her, smiling down softly at her as they bask in one another's presence in the warm golden hue of the lamps on the bed side tables.

"He insisted, he loves to cook" Izzy says sighing when Joey connects their lips, Izzys hands coming up to cup her face as Joey holds onto her thigh with one hand and cradling her head with the other, her nails scratching at her scalp as Izzys thighs lock around Joey's waist and holding her against her more as they kiss slowly and passionately, the pair smiling and worshiping one another as they listen to Harry softy sing in the kitchen cooking them all dinner.

They're all in bliss, their safe haven being their only escape from the world and the only time they can all be alone and show one another how much they care for each other. Sure they have their alone times in hotel rooms and back stage, but it's nothing like being locked away in a villa in a country that isn't demanding Harry to be on talk shows and random small interviews here and there, it's a place where they can just relax and not care about the beady eyes of the public and Jeff banging down the doors demanding Harry being at a certain place. This is the second vacation all three have spend together, the first being in Spain and now they're here, they've all preferred secluded small villas to grand luxurious hotel suites looking over the whole City of Venice.

The small villa with two gardens filled with flowers, trees and a small patch where Harry said he would one day grow his own vegetables if he gets to stay here that long, he wants to grow his own food to be able to make authentic dishes for his pasta loving girlfriends — this villa is enough for him, and he would never want to have a luxurious life filled with money and expensive clothes and furniture that probably would break if you touched it, Harry doesn't want that — he wants a vintage decorated villa, filled with flowers out front while Stevie sings around the building on vinyl as his girls laugh, almost in tune with every song as he cooks and treats them like he wants to, treat them like his lovers — and one day, like his wives.

"Came to get you two for dinner, but looks like you're getting to dessert without me" Harry says from the doorframe, his body leaned on it as he stands with his flour covered apron, a smile on his lips as the girls pause and look at him, Joey nearly between Izzys thighs as they laugh and blush looking at him.

"Come on, dinners served Madams!" Harry jokes leading them both to where he's set up, the back garden is filled with fairy lights, the bushes and trees decorated in the small lights as the table sits in a small patch of grass amongst all the high bushes and trees, shielding them from any prying eyes that could be near by.

"I think we're underdressed for this" Joey says looking at hers and Izzys current states, the pair only wearing Harrys t shirts and his boxers as shorts, Harry beside them with a stained apron and his clothes from this morning when they flew over.

"Who says? Tonight, I actually decided the theme is half naked and drunk on Italian wine" he shrugs leading them to their chairs, the girls smiling and laughing as the places one kiss to their lips each, their smiles never fading as Harry excuses himself, leaving his girls under the fairy lights as they look around in awe at the garden.

He soon strides out, only in his long sleeve shirt and boxers, dishes in his hands filled with their meal as the pair laugh and cheer in excitement and also whistling for their boyfriend who's half naked dishing them their dinner, his confidence sky rocketing as his girls take him in, complementing him and his food as he passes out a plate to them, leaving one at his place at the table as he wanders back inside, Izzy shouting about how his bum looks while Joey laughs about how "biteable his British bum looks" Harry will never get tired of her saying that to him.

Their dinner is filled with laughs, complements thrown at Harry for his cooking and wine filled jokes and stories about their times together, Izzy acting out how Harry first reacted to Joey using a strap on, on him and Joey acting out how Harry drunkenly tried to sing for the two, half naked and using a shampoo bottle as a mic as the pair sat half asleep in the bed, their boyfriend after waking them up by belting a mashup of any song he could think of at three in the morning in their hotel room — it's safe to say it's one of their favourite memories together even if Harry only half remembers it.

Their tipsy jokes and random touches has lead them to their bedroom, Harry tied up to the headboard as Joey straddles Izzy at the end of the bed, the pair putting on a show as Harry whines and rattles his hands against the handcuffs to try and break free to touch them, his underwear suffocating his erection as he watches the girls fully naked touching and kissing one another, clearly getting off on how Harry is reacting to watching them, his body covered in sweat as he whines and curses into the air.

"You can whine all you want baby boy, but you're ours tonight, you do as you're told, got it?" Joey says as she pants slightly, Izzy suckling on her nipples and kissing her breasts as Joey speaks to Harry, her eyes on him as he bites his lip and nods obsessively at her.

"Yes, yes I'll do as I'm told" he says as Joey smiles, grasping Izzys hair in her fingers and pressing her face closer to her breasts as she keeps her eyes on Harry, knowing it drives him wild when she does this.

"Yes who?" She says as Izzy reacts to this also, her small whines coming out in tune with Harrys as they both curse and look at Joey with glassy eyes and their full attention on her.

"Yes, mommy" Harry says slowly, his head foggy and only focused on Joey and Izzy, his body feels like jelly as he smiles lazily and bites his lip watching his girls please one another in front of him.

"Good boy" she hums out, taking Izzy off her breasts lightly and laying her down on her back, her eyes on the small girl as she smiles in response, her bottom lip between her teeth as Joey lowers herself, kissing her body as she goes lower and lower towards where Izzy needs her most.

Harry is whining and tugging against the handcuffs as Joey eats Izzy out, Izzys own moans coming out and mixing in the air with Harrys as Joey feeds off their reactions, Izzy falling apart on her tongue as Harry falls apart only by looking at them, he's pretty sure he could cum just by looking at them — it's happened before, both girls ended up loving it and he ended up loving being humiliated by the pair as he whined into their mouths with his underwear filled with his own cum in the back of a limo on their way home from an event, the windows tinted but they all love the thrill of being found out as they're all on top of one another in a limo.

"Look at him Iz, getting hard by looking at you getting your pretty cunt ate" Joey says pulling away to slip her fingers into Izzys cunt, coaxing her towards her second orgasm of the night as Izzy moans and squirms about on the bed, much like Harry is at the top of the bed, his arms clattering in the metal against the headboard as Joey holds eye contact with him as she dips back down to suck at Izzys clit.

"Please, let me touch you both, mommy please" he whines as Izzy moans out loudly, her second high washing over her as Joey licks and laps up her release with a smile kissing her thighs as she rides her through her high, the pair glistening in sweat as they pleasure one another before their boyfriend who's about to fall apart watching it all.

"Mommy, Haz wants go touch himself" Izzy speaks up, Joey worshipping her body as Izzy looks at Harry clenching his own thighs together, trying anything to get some relief as he's restrained to the headboard.

"Should we let him? Let him touch his cock and watch us have some fun?" Joey says looking at Izzy who's pleading for Harry, needing to see him touch himself as Joey smiles at her.

"Alright baby girl, you let Haz out and I'll get our special toy we love, okay?" She instructs Izzy who's crawling towards a frustrated Harry who's covered in sweat and needing someone to touch him. She lets him free with the click of a key in the lock of the cuffs, Joey grabbing hers and Izzys favourite toy from their toy bag they bring with them everywhere — it's a double sided blue dildo, Harry loves it when they use it before him, they even face time him and use it while he's away on his own, his hand tugging at his cock as he watches them through a screen falling apart on their favourite toy.

Harry is loving it, watching them now in person, holding onto one another as they use the dildo together, their clits brushing off one another's as they move along the toy, Harry being instructed to touch himself but not to cum, Joey insisting that he be edged until she can finally fuck him. The girls are whining and moaning as they brush up against one another as they move, one of Joey's legs up on Izzys shoulders as both of Izzys legs hug Joey's waist while Joey's other leg rests around Izzys back holding her up against her body a little, preventing her from falling down in pleasure.

"Look so good, gonna cum all over myself just by looking at you both" Harry moans out, his hand lazily stroking his cock as Joey laughs while biting her lip looking at him, Izzy moaning away as Joey holds onto her, rocking their lips back and forth as they please one another.

"Yeah? You gonna cum all over yourself like you did that night in the limo? Poor baby couldn't even hold it in, came just by watching his girls make out" Joey teases him as Harry whines at her words, loving how she humiliates him yet again, his hand squeezing his cock to prevent himself from cumming just by listening to the words falling from her swollen plumped up lips.

Both Izzy and Joey fall apart on the toy, Harry nearly cumming along with them but when he earns a slap to his thigh by Joey he soon collects himself and tries to hold it off in the hopes that he gets some action too, the curly haired man coated in sweat biting his tongue to hold off on saying the wrong thing that could lead to him going to sleep hard and frustrated while his girls sleep peacefully around him, content and satisfied.

"Think he deserves to have his ass played with Iz? Think he deserves to have Mommy's tongue in his hole?" Joey asks as Izzy smiles lazily at her, the pair now kissing and laying beside one another on the bed as Harry watches them with pleading eyes.

"Yes mommy, he's been a good boy for you, want to watch you eat his hole" Izzy sighs out as Joey kisses her hard before slapping her Sensitive cunt with a laugh earning her a squeal and laugh from Izzy in return as she scurries up beside Harry, Joey watching as Harry whines into Izzys mouth as they kiss desperately.

"Good girl, giving Harry your pretty lips" Joey hums sitting in front of the pair, leaning over to brush Izzys hair out of the way as her and Harry whine into one another's mouths, tongues and teeth clashing as Joey observes them with a smile over how submissive the two of them are for her.

"Been such a good boy H, think you deserve my mouth. On your knees, and put that pretty ass up in the air" Joey instructs him, Izzy breaking away from him as he jumps into position, his head against the sheets as Izzy sits in front of him, brushing the curls from his face and littering small kisses all over him as Joey slaps his ass a few times to rile him up even more.

"Such a pretty hole. Desperate for it aren't ya baby boy? Clenching around nothing" Joey hums out as she runs her thumb over his hole, hearing his whines against the sheets as Izzy smiles and cooes at him while Joey bends down, running her tongue over his hole as he clutches onto the bed sheets.

"Doing so good mommy, Haz is tearing up over your tongue. Does it feel good?" She says to Joey and then looking down at Harry who now has his head in her lap, his cheek against her thigh as she runs her thumb over his cheeks soothing him as he desperately squirms under Joey's touch as she licks into his hole behind him.

"Feels s'good, fucking hell" he moans out loudly when Joey finally slips her fingers into him, the bottle of lube being discarded onto the bed beside them as Harry holds onto Izzys thighs while burying his head in her thighs also, moaning loudly from the pleasure as Izzy holds onto him, making eye contact with Joey every now and then as she happily licks and fingers Harry's hole just how he likes it.

"That's it baby, take mommy's fingers" Joey moans out watching as Harrys hole takes her fingers like nothing, his moans loud as she curls them up and hits off his prostate which sends him into a frenzy, his cock hard and leaking between his legs as he fights off his orgasm like Joey is demanding him to do, his thighs being slapped everytime she knows he's close to letting go.

"He needs to cum so badly mommy, can he cum?" Izzy asks Joey innocently, her eyes glassy and her lips swollen from biting down on them watching Harry fall apart as he rests his head on her thighs, his eyes looking up into hers as he silently pleads with her to ask can he cum.

"He's not cumming until Mommy puts her special cock into his hungry hole" Joey says through gritted teeth as she moans out watching as Harry squirms and moans for her, pleading with her to let him cum as they all look desperately at one another.

"Gonna go and get our special toy baby, Izzy keep our boy company" Joey instructs as Izzy bends down to engage in hers and Harrys own quiet conversation, small laughs and whispers heard amongst kisses as Joey smiles fondly, gathering up her strap on and pulling it up onto her as Izzy showers Harry in delicate kisses as he basks in all the attention, loving the adoration all over him.

It's only a few more minutes before Harry is losing his mind on the bed, his hands clutching onto Izzys thighs as she rubs his back and runs her fingers through her hair, Joey behind Harry pounding into him with her strap on as she praises him to no end, Harry loving the praise and attention as he gets ruined by his two girls.

"You love this, don't you? Getting fucked in the ass, wonder what your fans would think if they knew this, Harry Styles begging to be fucked in the ass and desperate to cum" Joey says which causes Harry to moan out loudly, Joey's hand joining izzys in his hair as she pulls on his hair erupting a growl from his chest at the feeling.

"Bet they'd all go crazy knowing you love to call me Mommy also, they'd love to know how fucking desperate to cum you get and how needy you are for a cock up your ass" Izzy moans at Joey's words also, the pair getting off at her words as she gives it her all, her hips snapping up against Harrys as his cock rests on the sheets rubbing off the soft cotton with each thrust of her hips.

"They'd also love how he likes to be called daddy, right mommy?" Izzy joins in on Harrys humiliation, his lazy smile up at Izzy as she joins in, almost proud of her as Joey holds the same smile, their quiet girl being vocal in bed is something they love, they know how hard it is for her to be like this, so when a few filthy words slip from her lips they both beam at her like she just learned how to talk for the first time.

"That's right Iz, they'd go crazy if they knew what a whore our baby boy is in bed, how kinky he really is and how much he loves to be man handled by his girls" Joey says as Izzy beams happily at her, the girl proud of herself for making them both smile and for speaking out loud in bed, especially when her words earned her a moan from Harry that sent shivers up her spine over how desperate he sounded.

"M'gonna cum, harder mommy please!" He begs out as Joey pounds into him harder, Izzy immediately reaching under his hips to grab his cock as Harry catches her nipple in his mouth, her breasts in his face as she strokes his cock, his moans vibrating through Izzy as Joey moans watching them both moan at one another at the head of the bed.

Joey's hands dig harder into Harrys waist, his ass jiggling as she pounds into him from behind, his body coated in sweat as her red hand prints are clearly visible on his cheeks from earlier, his body shaking as he nears his high, toes curling against the sheets as Joey doesn't stop moving, her own body coated in sweat as she puts power behind her thrusts to get their boyfriend to cum, every thrust she sends into him causing the dildo to brush against his prostate sending him into a frenzy.

"Pump him harder Iz, he's almost there, aren't you baby boy? Gonna cum all over Izzys hand and the sheets, yeah?" Joey asks as Harry moans out with a nod, his hands desperately gripping onto Izzys thighs and his mouth sucking her nipple as Izzy moans out at the feeling, stroking his cock faster and harder, Harrys hand rutting against her hand and the sheets.

"Fucking him so good mommy, come on Haz, cum for me and mommy" Izzy spits out as she moans at the feeling of Harry sucking on her nipples, Harry finally letting go at the sound of her dirty talking, it's not expected from her but when she doesn't spit out a few curses or dirty words it sends him and Joey over the edge, their innocent girlfriend talking dirty is something they never knew could make them crumble so quickly.

"Thank you mommy, thank you, thank you" he slurs out when Joey pulls out, his head of curls resting on Izzys thighs as she pulls the curls from his sweaty forehead, her fingers separating each curl from being matted together with sweat as Joey cleans off the dildo and runs to get a wash cloth to clean him up — Harry having his own washcloth, a light blue one, Izzy having a lilac one while Joey has a dark purple one, each one of them having their own colours.

"I know bub, just bare with me, just need to clean you up" Joey cooes out while wiping his hole and cock, Harry hissing and groaning over how sensitive he is right now, his lips kissing small kisses over Izzys thighs as Joey smiles at their small interaction.

"Did so good for us H, need to come back to me now yeah?" Joey says as Izzy kisses his face to try and coax him out of his sub space, his eyes hooded and tear filled as Izzy tries to help him come back.

"Mommy, thank you" he slurs out which causes Joey to throw his washcloth into the laundry hamper and crawl up beside him and wrap her arm around his back, flipping him over so he's half laying on each of their laps as they look down at him.

"No H, it's Joey now, come back to me, come back to Joey baby" she says soothing him quietly, his eyes falling closed before his mind finally clears of the fog that filled it, his smile wide in his blissed out state as he begins to come back.

"M'back now" he mumbles out as the two girls laugh a little, kissing him as he smiles lazily wrapping his arms around their thighs as they rest against the headboard with Harry in their laps.

"Think it's time for a bath. H, you follow Izzy and she'll get the bath ready while I clean up in here, okay?" Joey says instructing them all once again, the pair disappearing into the bathroom, Harry having to be held up by Izzy which was comical to watch, her small frame trying to keep his tall one up as her head rests on his bicep trying to guide him.

Their small conversation and laughs are heard from the bathroom, the water running and the smell of Harry's favourite lavender bath salts filling their noses as Joey pulls of the messy sheets, pulling on some new ones and quickly joining her babies in the bathroom, the pair now in the bath and splashing one another with water, Izzy resting against Harrys chest between his legs as they leave a space in front of her for where Joey usually sits, Izzy usually being sandwiched between the two as they all relax together.

"Room for one more?" Joey asks which causes them all to smile, remembering how she said those exact words when she saw Izzy and Harry making out across the room in the club two years ago, from then on, they never once regretted saying ...

"Always room for one more"

[watchmegetobsessed]

Floating Through Space - Harry Styles

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

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

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

word count: 25.7k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wear men’s pants.”

“You’d look better in a dress.”

“Why do you look like a guy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi, can I ask for one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even once,” you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They stay silent and you know you were right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you home already?”

“Yes, just arrived.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See?” she smiles warmly.

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

“Harry Styles.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Harry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too.”

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

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

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

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

“Well, thank you. Back at you.”

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

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

“What are your concerns exactly?” Jeff questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, everything went fine.”

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

However, Harry can see right through you.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys still talk?”

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

“You miss being with the band?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing pissed you off lately?”

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

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

“It’s… a long story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right,” you nod smiling.

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“You don’t know how not to stress?”

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

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

“Cigarettes? I put it down in 2015.”

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

“What? Now?” you ask with wide eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you gonna smoke?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he ever stop?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to go for a swim?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

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

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

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

“Yeah? You like it?” he smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one?”

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“What was the name of the song?”

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

“Can I ask why you left your parents?”

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

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

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

“No,” you shake your head.

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

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

“Woah, that sounds really tough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn right,” he smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That fucking asshole dragged my name again!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did he do this time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a fan?”

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

“You need to perform it for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?” Harry softly asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kind of.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not that I know of.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Some water would be great, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you still friends with them?”

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

“Because we work together.”

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

“You like me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’m in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry: Is that even a question?!

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

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

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

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

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

“Wait, what? Spent the night as in—“

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

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

“I know,” you chuckle.

“How was it?”

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

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

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

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

“I really hope,” you nod with a sigh.

“How is the song writing going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

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

“Yeah? That’s interesting indeed.”

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

“It’s fine,” you smile at him softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let go for me, baby. Come on!”

“I want to cum with you.”

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

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

“Harry! Please!”

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

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

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

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

“Mm, good idea.”

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

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

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

“I’ve just been thinking.”

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

“About what you said about your parents.”

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

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

“There’s a reason for that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what if they don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She attached several articles and you start digging through them.

“Is Harry Styles dating his new duet partner?”

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

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

And then there’s the absolute worst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, please don’t do this, we—“

“Alone!” you snap, cutting him off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, you end the call.

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

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

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

“Halo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad bitches have bad days too.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

Hi Taylor!

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

I hope to see you soon, take care!

Harry

-

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

“He… pulled out for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure it’s going to go well.”

“Would you please come with me?”

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

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

“I do,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi mom, hi dad.”

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

[creativeashproductions]

Banjo Riff // Platonic!Reggie Peters

IN WHICH: Luke rejects Reggie’s ideas for country music one too many times leading to the friendship fracturing and putting the bands future in question. Luke, with the help of his girlfriend the reader and his friends scramble to make it up to the bassist.

Warnings: Swearing, hurt!Reggie, Luke being an ass, fighting, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.2k

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my notes for MONTHS now. Song referenced is Lay Here With Me by Maddie & Tae (featuring Dierks Bentley)

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

If there was one thing Sunset Curve, then later Julie and the Phantoms would rely on, it was the battle between Luke and Reggie. Since the conception of a band between the friends, Reggie had always wanted to play a country song. He had learned how to play the banjo in preparation, but Luke rejected both the idea and songs as always.

"You said our sound was vintage '80s and '90s rock music Luke. The band evolved into a pop-rock sound-"

"Because our band changed from Sunset Curve to Julie and the Phantoms. I love you, man, but there's no way we're going country." Luke finally snapped with a heated glare on his face. Luke didn't mean to snap so severely, but it happened.

Luke watched as Reggie's face completely dropped into the kicked puppy expression that tore everyone apart. Instead of making light of the conversation, Reggie mutely nodded in response before turning to grab his bass for the band practice. Luke's stomach dropped at the rather odd behaviour, but Luke blamed his response on his current writers' block.

"Let's start with Flying Solo." Luke proclaimed, hoping Reggie's favourite song would cheer him up. Alex's curious gaze bounced between the two other males in the band just as Julie wandered into the garage.

Before Julie could even question the tension, Reggie had started the beat on the pad stationed on the keyboard. The young female immediately jumped into the first rehearsal song with ease. Every attempt Julie was about to question Reggie's uncharacteristic quiet, the bassist started a different song.

"What's his problem?" Julie questioned as Reggie packed up his stuff and practically sprinted out of the studio. He'd rejected the offer of a pizza movie night.

"Luke here decided to be an asshole again." Alex's tone of voice was sugary sweet in comparison to the glare he sent his guitarist. 

Luke flinched at the furious expression on his bandmate's face. It wasn't a secret Julie and Reggie gravitated to each other in sibling bond. The two had been friends since infancy through their parents; Julie was there when the Peters started fighting. Reggie was there when Julie's mom passed away.

"Don't kill me!" Luke pleaded, scrambling around the piano from the intimidating Puerto Rican who had a solid punch. Julie's anger faltered at the guilt on the boy's face, "I was frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on him!"

"What did Reggie do to deserve it?" Julie asked from the other side of the piano, acting as a barrier between the teenagers.

"He asked about the band doing a country song," Luke admitted with a grimace. His hazel eyes dimmed once more.

"What is your issue with country music? Your girlfriend is literally a country singer Luke!" Alex cried, stepping in between the two feuding bandmates.

Rock n' Roll Luke Patterson had been dating a well-known country singer for close to two years now. Luke had always been adamant that country wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but if you looked in the false bottom of the console in his car, you'd see a different story. Beneath the Eagles, Nirvana, AC/DC, and Gun N' Roses CDs, you'd find countless CDs of his girlfriend. He even had a playlist with a name that concealed the music in it.

Luke was a secret country fan, but he'd take that to his grave before he let anyone other than you know that.

"I don't have an issue! I don't think our band would benefit from branching into that music genre!" Luke argued with his bare arms crossing over his chest. Both Julie and Alex were about to respond when the studio gained another inhabitant.

"Would anyone like to explain why Reggie stormed into my house holding his songbook? He literally dropped it in my garage and tried to light it on fire?" You asked from the double doors with said book in your hand.

All three out of four members of Julie and the Phantoms recognized the book with a country landscape. The sight caused all their stomachs to drop at the obvious symbol of Reggie's hurt feelings.

"Funny story-"

"Luke Patterson...did you hurt his feelings about his love of country?" You asked through clenched teeth. Your response was Luke wincing at the anger blistering in your tone, "Did you ever think that country music is his comfort music? Fix this, Luke. Reggie, of all people, doesn't deserve your frustration."

You turned on your heel with Julie following in the attempt to find the forlorn bassist, most likely being hard on himself. You checked the beach house Reggie's dad had gotten in the divorce to no success. The school auditorium was empty, and so was the stable where Reggie worked part-time for the horses. You had returned back to Julie's house to sit on the porch to brainstorm.

"Isn't this the week he's with his mom?" Julie questioned with a furrowed brow. You could only shrug as Julie pulled up the calendar she shared with Flynn.

Reggie's parents had somewhat amicably divorced two years ago after attempts of reconciliation through therapy. Reggie had sat down with them to tell them how he felt with them fighting, if you recalled. They decided to do a trial separation for a few months and, in the end, had mutually agreed to divorce.

"I think Mr. Peters is taking care of his mother in a different state. She broke her hip, and now she's being moved into a retirement home." You offered the girl the encapsulated sunshine in just her smile.

"I suppose we'll try the Carter-Peters home." Julie breathed, bouncing on her feet to your car parked in front of her house. Julie's fingers tapped the screen in a chat thread she hadn't touched for months.

Your keen eyes easily read Carrie Wilson's name at the top of the thread that had been dormant since the end of their friendship. Apparently, Julie received little help in the frustrated sigh she released and the increasingly violent tapping of her screen.

"As usual, Carrie is no help," Julie announced with disgust in her voice. She squeezed the hand you placed on her knee before your hand returned to the wheel.

"One day, you'll have to tell me what happened between the two of you."

"Old news. Happened just before you moved back from Nashville." Julie once more avoided talking about the issues. 

It was the same response every time you questioned the friendship that had fractured in the few years you'd been in Nashville. Before you left, Carrie and Julie had been attached at the hip, and when you came back, they were at each other's throats. Well, mostly Carrie was because Julie had too big of a heart to stand up to her former friend.

"Well, the beat-up van is still there." Julie caught the van, more of an eyesore, to be honest, sitting in the three-car driveway. The van was shared between Reggie and Flynn as a joint gift from their parents when Reggie's mom moved in with Flynn and her father.

"We both know Reggie-"

"Would walk to work through his problems. The number of times I've found in walking downtown…" Julie trailed with a shake of her half up half down hairstyle she left uncovered by a hat. Another symbol of her finding herself outside the grief that had concealed her.

"Oh, thank god." Flynn moaned from the front porch with her headphones resting on her shoulders instead of her ears, "He's been playing his old bass that makes that odd high pitch squeak noise. I couldn't take it. Get him out!"

You opened and closed your mouth with the inability to find the words, but Flynn knew already, "Doors unlocked. He's in his room."

"Thanks." You informed the fashionable teenager before brushing passed into the house. Not much had changed since Reggie had moved part-time into the house; his parents shared custody.

Flynn was right; the sound of that screech was like a bread trail to the last bedroom in the hallway to the left. The door opened a smidge to reveal Reggie sitting in the dim room with just his bedside lamp on. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Reggie." You breathed from leaning against the door jam, "I'm not sure what Luke said but don't give up on writing. Your songs mean something, Reginald."

"Then why doesn't Luke even read my lyrics? He barely read the title of my last one before tossing it aside!" Reggie whined before taking on a caricature of Luke's voice, "'Home is Where my Horse Is'? Reggie, stop putting your songs in my book!"

You couldn't help the snort at his interpretation of Luke, "That's a...uh...an accurate voice?"

Reggie didn't even crack a smile.

"Okay, maybe don't push Luke's buttons but imagine turning this hurt into songs!"

"Okay. Can I be left alone?"

"Sure." You sighed, turning to leave the room again, "But first. Don't get rid of this Reg. You have good songs." 

You left Reggie's songbook on the dresser by his door on your way through the Carter-Peters household. Flynn sighed in relief when Reggie didn't continue using his old bass and even waved as you and Julie pulled away from the curb.

Reggie's eyes had stayed on the songbook you left on his second-hand dresser as if it would get up and bite him. All he could see was Luke rolling his eyes when Reggie had opened the book to show him a new song he'd written. Reggie was tired of only being known for playing bass.

"I brought you some leftover pizza." Reggie wasn't aware he'd been staring at the songbook for hours by then. He was only aware of Luke when he offered a peace offering in the form of Reggie's favourite food.

"I-"

"I'll go grab a soda from the fridge." Luke retreated just as quick as he had entered the bedroom. Seeing Luke was like rubbing salt in the open wound, and once more, Reggie's emotions flared.

Reggie was already at the fire pit in the backyard when Luke had argued with Flynn overtaking one of her sodas. The soda that had dropped on the back porch as Luke saw Reggie's fingers about to drop the songbook in the crackling fire.

"Reggie!" Luke shouted, ignoring the cold spray of soda on his bare arms. The hazel-eyed guitarist shoved Reggie away from the fire.

"What the hell, dude?" Reggie groaned, rolling onto his stomach to push himself to his sit on his knees. His blue eyes seeing Luke stomping the ignited corner of the songbook that had caused them issues.

"What the hell were you doing, Reggie?" Luke demanded with the songbook held tight in his grip. The glare on the messy-haired teenager directly pinned on his best friend, "Why would you try to destroy the book?"

"What's the point of having something our band won't branch into?" Reggie shrugged, moving to sit with his knees pulled to chest, "I've tried to keep the peace but Luke. I'm starting to understand why Bobby left the band."

Luke's heart clenched at the honesty Reggie was revealing, "What do you mean?"

"Screw the blood pact." Reggie grumbled, recalling the oath Alex, Bobby, and he had done to keep the truth from Luke, "Bobby didn't leave because he got an early acceptance into Juilliard."

Luke's eyebrows furrowed together, "What?"

"Luke...you tend to get possessive over the music we make. You brushed off Bobby's opinions, and we all didn't want to hurt your feelings. You've had a shitty time with your parents, but like Bobby, I feel like you don't appreciate our talents."

"What? Dude, you're killer on the bass! Alex's insane on the drums!"

"We know that. Maybe Bobby should have told you the truth on why he was leaving. I don't think you noticed but 

"Luke. The songs we perform are all written by you. It was fine, but then when Julie joined, all of a sudden, you were okay with someone else writing with you. But you've never even looked at the songs I've written."

Luke silently listened as Reggie rambled on about how he, along with Bobby, felt underappreciated by the guitarist. 

"And now you've been bit by the writers' block bug, but I think the band should take a break. Get our heads back on straight. Before we destroy the band, destroy our friendships." Reggie told his best friend with tears rolling down his face, "Just a week or two."

Luke's mouth hung open as Reggie circled around him to enter the household, but the telltale sound of the lock engaging broke the teenager. But Luke wasn't one to give up, so he created a group chat with Alex, Julie, Flynn and you. A single text that had all of them meeting at the studio.

"He quit the band?" Alex demanded, taking the songbook from Luke's hand, "What the hell?"

"One second he's in his room, and the next he's about to burn that! I may not like-"

"Luke, have you even read a single song he wrote?" You asked your boyfriend with your arms resting down on your knees. The boy in question half-heartedly shrugged with his eyes on his battered shoes.

"How are we gonna fix this?" Julie asked with a frown marring her pretty face usually lit up with sunshine. Her question was left to waft in the forlorn atmosphere in her family's studio.

"Give me that." You demanded towards the band's drummer with determination lit up in your eyes. Alex hesitantly handed over the songbook to your grabby hands.

The other individuals in the room watched as you settled into a chair with a stray acoustic guitar you'd left. Your eyes focused on the notes Reggie had placed around one of the unfinished songs. The soft melody was played a few times before you noticed Alex creating a beat with his drums.

"If I just tweak the song to make this piece the verse instead of a chorus." You mumbled under your breath with a pen scratching the paper. In a different colour, you jotted down the lyrics of a song you'd been working on previously. It was a song you'd struggled with the ending.

Alex huddled around you to add his own notes for the drums, "Definitely a song with a soft backing beat."

"Perfect. I just joined what he has with a song I'd given up a while back. The two songs are the last two pieces of a puzzle." You informed the drummer. Both of you unaware as Julie, Luke, and Flynn watched your brainstorming.

Luke felt out of sorts not being included in writing a song, but he thought it was suitable to not work on it. It gave Luke insight into how Reggie felt not being included in songwriting.

"I have an idea." Luke interjected with a grin, "Reggie's always wanted to see a real ranch. Do you think your uncle would be okay with us staying at the ranch?"

Your eyes flitted up to the mischievous hazel of your boyfriend's scheming gaze, "My uncle adores having people on the ranch. He'd enjoy teaching Reggie the ways of ranch life out of a city."

"How are you gonna get Reggie out to Nashville without it being band business?" Flynn questioned from her position on the couch, "He did just ask for a break from the band."

"Uh...I could pretend to enter a music competition." You offered hesitantly as you'd never actually performed on a stage for the group. You'd kept your personal life separate from your successful career as a country musician.

So you conspired with your friends to make amends with the bassist.

One Month Later, Nashville

The beat-up van pulled into a parking spot in front of a building. The band had seen the building in pictures on your Instagram. Alex, Luke and Julie all shared a look Reggie couldn't catch with his mouth wide open at the city.

"So, where's this competition?" Reggie inquired with his steps in line with Julie. The distance between Reggie and Luke is still noticeable.

True to Reggie's word, the band had come back together after two weeks of a break, but the bassist and guitarist's friendship was still fractured. A particular cloud of awkwardness followed each attempt; Luke tried to branch it together.

"Uh, not here. Y/N invited me to tour the recording studio she uses through her label." Luke offered to the confused bassist. As usual, Reggie barely cast a glance at the guitarist.

"C'mon!" Alex called out from the open doorway with the new addition of you by his side.

Luke was quick to nearly tackle you in a hug and a lingering kiss on your lips. The band all made sounds of feigned disgust. Even Reggie joined in the usual banter within the group.

"Hey, Reggie, do you want to see how us country artists do it?" You quipped with your arm interlocking with his. The cold leather of his jacket raising goosebumps on your arm as you dragged him to the recording booth.

As soon as he was comfortable on one of the spinney chairs by the producer's side, he watched like a hawk. The band had never been in a real professional recording studio owned by a label. It was interesting to everyone, but mostly they all watched Reggie's reactions.

"I was working on this song." You spoke from inside the booth. With a nod, your producer began playing a portion of the song.

"Is...is that-" Reggie was cut off by as Luke interrupted him.

"Your song? Yeah." 

Reggie stared at his best friend, "What?"

"You were right, Reggie. I didn't appreciate what you could bring to the band, and I'm so fucking sorry about that. You have excellent songs even if I'm not a fan of country music." Luke genuinely informed his best friend with his hands clasping his, "I want you. Both you and Alex to have a bigger role because we started this band together. We all share responsibility."

"So for now. Alex and I finished one of the songs you had written. I was wondering if you'd like to make it a duet? Release it as a single with a full writing credit."

Reggie absolutely beamed in response to your question. He was in the recording booth beside you in mere seconds.

For the week the band stayed on your uncle's ranch, Reggie was in the studio with you going over the song. It is a song you released as the leading single for your upcoming studio album with Reggie and cemented his career. It wasn't the last time you did a song with Reggie. In fact, he set himself up as a sought after country songwriter.

"Holy shit!" Luke shouted as soon as Reggie told him the success of one of the songs had brought interest to Julie and the Phantoms, "I could kiss you! I'll never doubt your skills!"

Reggie and Luke's fractured friendship healed with the promise of a yearly visit to the ranch in Nashville. Plus, Reggie impressed Luke and Alex with the banjo riff in a country song the band released on their third studio album featured by you. Reggie would always be thankful he had the chance to record ‘Lay Here With Me’ with you.

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog ​​Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

[redhoodssweetheart]

Star-Crossed Lovers Part Three

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes @onfir3​ and @sarcasmismyfirstlove

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Reader has an assumed name in this (she is not named, but she goes by Sophia Turner since she is in hiding)

Description:  Secrets are unveiled and Y/N is smacked in the face with a truth she hadn’t expected to find out.

A/N:  Okay first off, I have no idea how long this story is going to be.  It could have one more part, two more parts or more.  I am legit addicted to this story now.  Also the ending may have a sad and a happy version.  One for people who want a happily ever after and those who want to read a sad ending.  Or maybe you’ll want to read both who knows.  But I hope you enjoy this installment of Star-Crossed Lovers.  The song that the singers are singing is Ain’t About You by Wonho featuring Kiiara

Her keys jingled as she fished them out of her pocket.  Clark’s plants were not on the verge of death and she had considered her mission a success.  As she stepped inside the apartment she flipped on the lights and nearly jumped out of her skin when she noticed the dark figure in the corner of her living room.  

“Holy shit,” she gripped her hand to her chest.  Her heart was pounding, but it was starting to calm down now that she realized it was Batman in her apartment and not Sionis.

“Y/N,” he said in his gruff way.  “I have news.”

“Please tell me that Sionis is officially dead,” she didn’t want to hear anything else, but she had a feeling that that wasn’t why he was here.

The way his jaw locked only confirmed her suspicions.  “He’s still alive,” Batman confirmed.  “And he’s using someone at LexCorp to up his drugs.  The effects give the user temporary powers like Superman and Superboy’s.  It’s not on the street yet, but soon.  And Sionis knows you’re not dead.  As far as I’m aware he doesn’t know you're here.”  He reached into one of his compartments and pulled out an envelope.  “I’ve secured you a ticket to a fundraiser tomorrow night that Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp are throwing.  It’s a masquerade ball, I need you to tell me if you see anyone familiar there.  Anyone that was working with or for Sionis.  We need to know who’s supplying him.”

She took the invitation, “Fine.  Where will I meet you?”

“I’ll find you,” then he was disappearing out the window and into the night.

The dress she had picked out was red, with a thigh high slit and a mask to match.  The dress was silk, the light reflecting off it.  She felt sexy and yeah she chose red for one reason and one reason only.

God, she had to get over him.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, but no one stuck out besides the Waynes, Lex, and a few other high society members.  She didn’t like how this mission was going so far.  And when she scanned the crowd again she noticed one of the Wayne boys staring her way.  She quickly ducked into a crowd and hoped not to draw any more attention.  She wasn’t the only one wearing red so she wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb.

“Does it sound cliché to say / That I just need some space babe / It’s not you, it’s me really, uh,” the male singer began to sing into his mic.  “I’m the one that changed umm / You’re so hard to resist / A love that hurt like this / I wish it wasn’t hell / To love you more than you love yourself.”

“I don’t believe I know your name,” a husky male voice said beside Y/N and when she looked up she saw that it was the Wayne boy that had been staring at her.  

“And who says I’m going to give it to you?”  She fired back, a smirk beginning to form.

He matched her smirk, “You’re a beautiful woman, it’s a ball, I thought I’d ask you to dance with me, but I’d like to know your name first.”

She considered him for a moment and then said, “I’ll give you the dance, but you haven’t earned my name yet, stranger.”

“I see I caught your eye, again / Your pretty little lies / Wish I could stroke your big ego / But sorry not tonight, or ever / You’re so hard to resist / A love that hurt like this / I wish it wasn’t hell / To love you more than you love yourself,” the female singer sang in response to her male counterpart as the Wayne boy led her onto the dance floor.

He swept Y/N into his arms and began to twirl her around with expert ease.  Money could buy a lot of things and dance lessons was probably one of those things.  She wondered if it had been his choice or if Bruce Wayne had made it mandatory.  “So what’re you doing at the ball?  I normally know the people that frequent these,” he said as he dipped her, their faces inches from one another.

She cocked her head to the side as he slowly brought her back to an upright position, “Because you’re a Wayne?”  

He chuckled, “Maybe.”

“I work for the Daily Planet, I’m working on a story,” she said.  A half-truth, but not a complete lie.

Those blue eyes of his were starting to look familiar like she had seen them before. She wondered if he was the man she had bumped into on the street the other day, but she wasn’t about to ask him that.  And right now those very eyes were bright with mischief.  “Oh?  Looking for any sordid secrets of the lifestyle of the rich and famous because I could provide.  I know dirt on everyone here.”

“No sordid secrets for me tonight,” she said, she didn’t want to know what those sordid secrets would cost her if he were to tell her what he knew.  “I’m just covering the event.”  She had learned from articles that the Waynes and Luthor were trying to raise money for people displaced by superhero activity.  Homes that had been destroyed or other places like schools and work.

“How you stay out til 4 am / How you can’t tell me where you’ve been / Go and get that shit out your head / This ain’t about youuuuu / This ain’t about youuuuu / This ain’t about / Hate to tell you but / Hate to tell you but / This ain’t about you / This ain’t about you,” the singers sang, the song coming to a close.

The stranger still held her in his arms after the song had ended, “Have I earned the right to know your name or am I going to have to make one up for you?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”  She fired back.

“Deal.”

“Sophia Turner,” the lie slipped off her tongue, but it felt odd to tell him this name.  She had no idea why, she didn’t even know him other than the fact that he was a Wayne.  “But most call me Sophie.”

“Jason Todd,” he supplied in return.

“Oh so I was dancing with the resident bad boy of the Waynes,” she hummed.  “Let me guess you flash those pretty blue eyes at whoever you want and you can get out of any situation?”

“Not quite, but you think they’re pretty?”  His grin was turning cocky and you pushed away from him.

“Down boy,” she said.  “I’m… well I’m….”  She sighed, “It’s complicated.”

He started walking beside her as she turned to flee from the event, “I’m a great listener, you could tell me all your boy problems.”

“No tonight lover boy, I need to go anyway,” she had gotten all the information she could for Batman.  She hadn’t seen anyone there that could be working with or for Sionis, the whole night had been a bust.  Fun, but a bust.

“I’ll find you, Cinderella,” he called out to her as she made her way through the crowd not once glancing back at him.

The night after coming home Y/N grabbed some ice cream out of the fridge and waited for Batman.  When he showed up she told him that she didn’t know anyone there; he thanked her and promised to keep her updated with anything about Sionis.  But for now, she should stay where she was and lie low because Metropolis was the safest place for her. Before she could thank him he was gone.

Now it was Monday and she was at work.  Lois greeted her and was smiling broadly, “Someone got a gift.”

Y/N’s attention turned to her desk where a bouquet of red roses sat.  She blinked a couple of times because she didn’t believe that anyone would leave her flowers.  “Who sent them?”  She asked to no one in particular as she made her way to her desk, Lois still beside her.  She picked the card and saw that there was a handwritten note.

Cinderella,

I think it’s rude that you didn’t leave a shoe for me to return to you.  I’d like to see you again.  Meet me tonight at the top of the Daily Planet, seven o’clock?

Jason Todd

“Sophie!  Did you run out on Jason Todd last night?” Lois gasped.  Since the moment the two of them had met Lois had been trying to set her up.  In her own words, she was trying to ‘help you get over the man who you clearly hurt you’.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I didn’t run out on him like Cinderella, he knows my name and where I work.  I just needed to get home.”

“Are you going to meet him tonight?”  She asked, a smile on her face that suggested she wanted you to meet with him.

She gave her friend a look, “I don’t know, Lois.  I’m busy and I have other things that I need to do.”  Getting involved with a Wayne was dangerous.  They were always in the spotlight and Jason especially since he was the most mysterious of the bunch.  He attracted a camera like honey drew flies.

“Just go, see what he wants, have a little fun.  Lord knows you could use it,” Lois squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and headed for her own desk.

Y/N looked at those red roses again and let out a sigh.  One visit with Jason wouldn’t hurt.

Metropolis was nice, but Jason preferred the grittiness of Gotham.  There was something real about it, it wasn’t hiding that there was bad stuff going on.  Metropolis on the other hand was sleek and new.  Superman gave them hope and offered a shiny new take that life could be good.  He always felt like he stuck out in Metropolis, even when he was in the Robin or Red Hood uniforms.  You could tell that he didn’t belong.

The door to the roof opened and he heard her heels against the concrete.  “Flowers?  Really?”

He turned and grinned at her, getting an unencumbered view of her face for the first time in months.  She was still as beautiful as the first day he had met her.

“Well I thought about sending a candy gram, but I didn’t think that would be appreciated,” he quipped. 

She chuckled and came to stand beside him, her gaze fixed on the city beyond.  “It’s almost too perfect,” she murmured, mirroring Jason’s earlier thoughts.  “Unlike Gotham--”  She clamped her mouth shut.

“Oh, you know Gotham?”  His gaze was still locked on her face, trying to recommit everything to memory.  She had changed a little bit about herself when she went into hiding, but it was still her.  Still his Y/N.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.  “I grew up there.  Moved away a while ago.  Needed a change of pace.”  Lie. Lie. Lie.  She hadn’t wanted to leave Gotham.  She wanted nothing more than to stay, but circumstances and fate had other ideas.

Jason finally mirrored her position, “I get that.  I moved away for a bit myself.”

“Didn’t you fake your death?”  The question slipped out before she could stop it.  “Sorry, that’s a little too personal.  It’s the journalist in me, feel free to ignore it.”  She wanted to smack herself, but he huffed a laugh and she finally looked at him.  There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“It’s all right,” he said softly to let her know he wasn’t upset by her question.  “And the answer is it’s complicated.  Very, very complicated.”

“I know all about complicated,” she told him.  “At this point, I think it’s my middle name.”

“Sophia Complicated Turner, huh?”  He held out his hand to her, “I’m Jason Peter Todd.”

That made her laugh, “Are you always this corny?”

“There’s more to me than the bad boy the papers like to see, Sophia.”  He hated using that name.  He wanted to call her Y/N, he wanted to tell her everything, but he held his tongue.  

She bumped him with her shoulder, “I can tell.”

Warmth spread through him and he went to respond when a breeze blew by and she shivered.  “Here,” he draped his jacket over her shoulders.  “Why aren’t you wearing a better jacket?”  He asked like a mother hen.  “You live here and even I knew to come prepared.”

Y/N stood there frozen for a moment before gently wrapping the leather jacket closer around her and breathing in the scent of him.  Cigarettes and a familiar aftershave, a combination she had come to know as home.  Though she had tried to get him to quit smoking.  Jason’s jacket smelled like Red and she stiffened even more when the thought crossed her mind.  Red had died once too.  Red would have made similar jokes.  She looked closely at Jason, really taking him in, and there on his lip was a little scar in the same place that Red had a scar.  Then the mole on his neck, and another scar she had kissed over a hundred times.  

Y/N backed away, her breath coming out in shallow pants.  Her mind was running a mile a minute, it couldn’t be.  “I need to go,” she finally managed to say.

“Sophia?”  He asked in concern and God she couldn’t get it out of her head how he was Red.  Jason was the Red Hood.

“Goodnight,” she dashed for the door, his jacket still wrapped around her.

Once she had made it to her apartment, Batman was there.  Still in the city chasing down leads, and probably coming to ask for another favor.  The ball.  Bruce Wayne being in the city.  Everything was clicking in place.  “Call Red here,” she said before he could speak.  “I want to see him.”

“Red isn’t here, Y/N,” Batman said calmly.

“Oh isn’t he?”  She spat.  “I’m pretty sure I just left him on the roof of the Daily Planet.”  She tossed the jacket at him.  “Bruce.”

There was a moment of hesitation, but Batman - or Bruce - pulled the cowl down and revealed his true identity to her.  “How did you figure it out?”

“I’m an investigative journalist, Bruce.  Give me some credit,” she scoffed.  “If anyone looked hard enough I’m sure they could figure it out.”  She sat down on her couch and buried her face in her hands.  “Fuck, I’m so tired.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he summoned Jason, not telling him that Y/N knew the truth.  He would wait for that bomb to be dropped by the woman herself.  “I’m sorry if we’re causing you this stress, Y/N.”

She waved a dismissive hand, “Please, I’ve been stressed since the moment Sionis ruined my life.  I knew that that plan of ours was a fifty-fifty shot at freedom.  I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life if I’m lucky.”

A moment later Red Hood entered through your window and you just looked at him.  And for a moment your times together flashed before your eyes.  “Y/N,” he said, his voice in that robotic monotone.  

“Jason,” she responded.  “Why don’t you sit down?  We’ve got a lot to discuss you and I.”

[sinceileftyoublog]

30 (Technically 34) Albums We Loved That Happened To Come Out in 2020

So much has already been said and written about this cursed past year, but a few good things came out of it, including the music. Album-wise, like many before it and many to come, it was an embarrassment of riches. But even with so much time on our hands to devour new tunes, it was often old favorites, songs of comfort or familiarity that garnered the heaviest rotation. For many artists, too, it was a year ripe for revisiting or reissues of old material, looking at existing songs with fresh and new perspectives. Simply put, with so much to listen to, new and old, the prospect of ranking a finite number of albums felt not only daunting, but frankly a bit stupid. Maybe we were late to the game, but 2020 taught us that music should and can be appreciated in multiple contexts, not limited to but including when it first came out and when it was heard again and again, even if years later. The records below--listed in alphabetical order--happened to be released in some form in 2020, whether never-before-heard or heard before but in a different format. And the only thing I know is that we’ll be listening to them in 2021 and beyond.

Autechre - SIGN & PLUS (Warp)

The legendary British electronic music duo surprise released SIGN a mere month and a half after its announcement and then PLUS 12 days later. The former was a beatific collection of soundscapes that belied the band’s usual harsh noise, while PLUS embraced that noise right back, drawing you in with the clattering chaotic burbles of opener “DekDre Scap B” and lurching forward. -Jordan Mainzer

Against All Logic - 2017-2019 (Other People)

The perennially chill ambient house artist Nicolas Jaar had a busy 2020, as usual, releasing two albums under his name, Cenizas and Telas. But it was 2017-2019, the follow-up to the debut album from his Against All Logic moniker, that came first and throughout the year helped to illustrate Jaar’s penchant for combining inspired samples with club beats and tape hiss. Take the way the lovelorn vocals of “Fantasy” or soulful coos of “If Loving You Is Wrong” war skittering, scratchy percussion and cool arpeggios, respectively: Jaar is coming into his own as a masterful producer almost a decade after he released his first full-length. Oh, and bonus points for including none other than Lydia Lunch on a banger so blunt it would make Death Grips blush. - JM

Bartees Strange - Live Forever (Memory Music)

Like many, my introduction to Bartees Strange was through Say Goodbye to Pretty Boy, his EP of The National covers. Creativity and shifting perspectives shine through each song’s reimaging, like flipping the coarse, almost manic “Mr. November” into something softer, more meditative. It felt like a mere peek into what was to come on Live Forever. Bartees Strange is a world-builder. Each track on his debut unfolds and welcomes you to a wildly engaging tableau, a fully constructed vision. “Jealousy” opens with soft vocals and birdsong. “In a Cab” is the slick soundtrack to racing through a cityscape in the rain, seeing the blurred lights of the high-rises above as you pass by. “Kelly Rowland” warps wistful pop song feelings. “Flagey God” takes you into a dark, pulsing club while only a few songs later, “Fallen For You” wraps you in echoed vocals and romantic, raw acoustic guitar.

It’s an accomplishment to craft an album of individual songs that stand strongly on their own but still feel cohesive. 2020 wasn’t all bad. It gave us Live Forever, a declaration of an artist’s arrival. - Lauren Lederman

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now (Atlantic)

Back in the spring, many of us wondered who would put out something great in 2020’s quarantine. It was hard to imagine that the intensity of a global pandemic would really allow for artists to embrace creativity. That thought carries the same eye-roll inducing feeling of “We’ll get some great punk music out of a Trump presidency,” but of course, Charli XCX delivered. Through live workshops with fans and longstanding collaborators, she delivered songs to dance alone to in your bubble. Charli embraces the unknown of the moment but clutches onto what’s familiar. Under the glitch-pop veneer of the album, she digs into the anxieties of not just this moment of time but of the bigger questions we all confront: trajectories of relationships with friends, romantic partners, ourselves. Album standouts “forever” and “i finally understand” embrace that feeling of both looking for control and accepting the lack of it. Charli is a master at balancing this. - LL

Christine and the Queens - La Vita Nuova (Because Music)

Named after a Latin text by Dante Alighieri about missing a woman who has died, Chris’ La Vita Nuova is not about mourning a death but instead about loneliness and isolation, post-relationship or otherwise. It doesn’t bang quite like her previous two albums, but it hits harder than ever.

Read our full review here.

Dogleg - Melee (Triple Crown)

Released on March 13th, right as the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Melee was supposed to be supported by three cancelled tours–SXSW, an opening slot for Microwave, and an opening slot for Joyce Manor–and an appearance at this year’s cancelled Pitchfork Music Festival. Listening to the songs on the record, you can only imagine how they translate: the jerky momentum of “Bueno”, build-up of “Prom Hell”, gang vocals of “Fox”, clear-vocal anthem of “Wrist”, and odd groove of “Ender”.

Read “Buckle Up, Motherfucker”, our interview with Dogleg.

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia & Dua Lipa/The Blessed Madonna: Club Future Nostalgia (Warner)

Where Dua Lipa’s much-anticipated second album Future Nostalgia succeeded was in its disco anthems and retro, club-ready beats, so who better to bring out the best of the record than The Blessed Madonna? The turntablist masterfully curates a mix of heavy hitters of the charts and the underground that not only offers an essential complement to Future Nostalgia but transcends it. Sending the tracks out to various producers and singers for features and then adding her own samples on top, she invites you to peel back the layers, enter a YouTube rabbit hole of sample searching as much as bopping along.

Read our full review here.

Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou - May Our Chambers Be Full (Sacred Bones)

Roadburn Festival has long been on my bucket list, and since the pandemic showed me how much live music can be taken away in a flash, when it’s safe again to travel and go to a festival, I may just pull the trigger and go--especially considering it’s the springboard for such fruitful and inspired collaborations as the one between Louisville singer-songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle and Baton Rouge sludge dwellers Thou. Rundle embraces the heavier opportunities on the follow-up to her incredible 2018 record On Dark Horses with the ever-flexible Thou backing her up vocally and instrumentally. Slow-burning opener “Killing Floor” offers a familiar introduction to fans of both--sort of what a Rundle/Thou song would sound like--before grunge chugger “Monolith” introduces huge, catchy riffs and “Out of Existence” a True Widow-esque dirge, newfound inspirations for both artists bringing the best out of each other. - JM

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters (Epic)

What makes Fetch the Bolt Cutters stand out among Apple’s catalog and music in general is the clarity with which Apple seethes at those who have wronged her, whether ex-boyfriends or patriarchal oppressors, and looks to her relationships with other women for peace of mind.

Read our full review here.

HAIM - Women in Music Pt. III (Columbia)

For HAIM, the title Women in Music Pt. III is suggestive that, more than their previous two records, their third centers around the experiences of being an all-female band in a historically white cis male-dominated scene, at least one that wouldn’t call catchy riffs written by a man “simple” or call attention to the faces a man makes while playing. What it doesn’t let on to is how deeply personal the record is, how, by unabashedly embracing genres and styles of music that they love, HAIM have made far and away their best album. Co-produced by the usual suspects, Danielle Haim, Ariel Rechtshaid, and ex-Vampire Weekender Rostam Batmanglij, it’s instrumentally and aesthetically dynamic and diverse, consistently earnest without devolving into cheese.

Read our full review here.

Irreversible Entanglements - Who Sent You? (International Anthem)

I’ve been captivated by Irreversible Entanglements ever since I first saw them at Pitchfork Music Festival 2018. The radical poetry of Camae Ayewa (aka Moor Mother) is the perfect front for a ramshackle mix of Luke Stewart’s spidery bass, Tcheser Holmes’ weighty drums, and a horn section that concocts tones that range from hopeful to desperate. At their best, Who Sent You? is a shining example of celebratory Afrofuturism and metaphysics that makes the urgency of Ayewa’s more concrete and political words all the more necessary. “No Más”, composed by Panamanian-born trumpeter Aquiles Navarro, is a declaration against imperialist oppression, while the stunning title track flips the switch like a Kara Walker painting, as Ayewa’s the one interrogating the police officer terrorizing her community. “Who sent you?” she repeats, never spiraling, grabbing a hold of the power and never letting go. - JM

Jeff Parker - Suite for Max Brown (International Anthem/Nonesuch)

It’s Jeff Parker’s mom’s turn. After 2016′s The New Breed ended up being a tribute to the guitarist’s father, who passed away during the making of it, Parker decided to pay tribute to Maxine while she was still alive. Suite for Max Brown (Brown is his mother’s maiden name; Max is what people call her) is a genre-bending collection of tracks inspired by Parker’s DJing, juxtapositions of sequenced beats with improvisation that certainly sound like the brainchild of one individual. Indeed, Parker plays the majority of the instruments on it and engineered most of it at home or during his 2018 Headlands Center residency in Sausalito, CA; though all of the players and the vocalist (Jeff’s daughter Ruby Parker) on The New Breed show up, plus a couple trumpeters (piccolo player Rob Mazurek and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes) and cellist Katinka Kleijn, Suite for Max Brown is a distinctly Jeff Parker record.

Read our preview of Jeff Parker & The New Breed’s set at Dorian’s last year.

Jeff Rosenstock - NO DREAM (Polyvinyl)

Jeff Rosenstock throws us right into the spinning, manic energy of NO DREAM, his latest release from a seemingly endless well of music that never lacks urgency. It’s a reminder that though it’s been a strange year, the issues Rosenstock tackles here aren’t new. There’s no interest in making you feel comfortable here. On the album’s title track, Rosenstock sings, lulling you into a false sense of security, “They were separating families carelessly / Under the guise of protecting you and me.” But reality sets in, and the hazy guitars spin out as he spits, “It’s not a dream!” and, “Fuck violence!”

My image of Jeff Rosenstock in the year 2020 is masked up with “Black Lives Matter” scrawled across the fabric of his mask in Sharpie, performing album highlight “Scram!” on Late Night with Seth Meyers as high energy as ever. It felt like watching someone send out a beacon, both a distress signal and a call to arms. - LL

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure? (PMR/Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope)

I am not someone who goes to clubs. I don’t “go out dancing,” preferring to let loose in the privacy of my own home or a trusted friend’s house party. But Jessie Ware’s What’s Your Pleasure? makes me think I could embrace a night out like that, once the world opens up again, of course. The album is filled with syncopated disco beats that feel fresh and classic all at once. The abundant horns and strings on “Step Into My Life” are decadent, like light bouncing off sequins in a dark room. Ware’s voice is slinky and velvety one moment, windswept like her album cover the next. It’s songs like “Save a Kiss” that embrace both, allowing her to show off her range. - LL

Laura Marling - Song for Our Daughter (Partisan)

With sparse production, mostly from her but with additions from Ethan Johns and Dom Monks, Marling foregoes the comparative maximalism of the Blake Mills-produced Semper Femina, her last proper full-length, and 2018′s LUMP collaboration. The songs aren’t simple, but they’re succinct, and every element, from Marling’s finger-picked guitars, the occasional slide guitar, and that unmistakably calm voice, sometimes alone and sometimes layered, fits. It’s her most universal set of songs yet, centering around the times when we’re apart from one another but reflecting on when we were together and when we might be together again, with no guarantees.

Read the rest of our review here.

Les Amazones d’Afrique - Amazones Power (Real World Records)

The groovy pan-African collective expands upon their debut Republique Amazone and then some with Amazones Power, a tour-de-force statement of female empowerment in the face of oppression against women throughout the African diaspora. Indeed, the album is more than just songs boldly decrying FGM, though those demands ring heavily. Instead, the group goes further, delving into gender power structures in marriage on “Queens” and selectively finding strength in tradition on “Dreams”. And this time, they include men to stand alongside with them. “Together we must stand / Together we must end this,” sings Guinean musician/dancer/artist Niariu on opener “Heavy” in solidarity with features Douranne (Boy) Fall and Magueye Diouk (Jon Grace) of Paris band Nyoko Bokbae. But perhaps it’s her kiss-off on “Smile” that hits hardest: “I shut up for no one.” - JM

Lianne La Havas - Lianne La Havas (Nonesuch)

The British singer-songwriter’s much anticipated follow-up to 2015′s Blood was better than I could have ever imagined. A song cycle about life cycles--of nature, of lives, of a relationship--inspired by an actual breakup, Lianne La Havas is a contemporary neo soul masterpiece. Overview opener “Bittersweet” is an instant earworm, La Havas’ coo-turned-belt filling the space between classic and increasingly emotive slabs of piano and guitar. Funky, lovestruck strut “Read My Mind” is the soundtrack for the unbridled confidence of finding new love. Yes, the doubts begin to sow on the fingerpicked melancholy of “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight”, and where the album goes from a simple narrative perspective may be predictable: They break up, they don’t get back together, La Havas enjoys her independence. But the depth of the arrangements and assuredness of La Havas’ singing is a product of an artist starting to really show us what she can do. And how many people can pull off a Radiohead cover like that? - JM

Lomelda - Hannah (Double Double Whammy)

What does it mean to title an album after yourself? Lomelda’s latest album is centered around discovering more about yourself while not always having the answers. Despite the lyrical content, the album is self-assured. Hannah Read’s voice feels as steady as ever as it navigates these twisting questions, like the way the world can shift after a kiss. She finds power in softness and reflection throughout the album, like when she explores the mantra-like words of “Wonder” or through a reminder to do no harm in “Hannah Sun”. In a year that allowed for perhaps more reflection than usual, Hannah makes space for the questions that arise out of figuring yourself out, of making sense of the messiness of it all, wrapped in warm guitar, balanced vocals, and steady drums. - LL

Moses Sumney - Grae (Jagjaguwar)

“Am I vital / If my heart is idle? / Am I doomed?” Moses Sumney famously sang on his stunning 2017 debut Aromanticism, an album that saw him developing his acceptance of being alone. grae, his two-part 2nd full-length, and his first since officially moving from L.A. to the Appalachian Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, doubles down on themes of heartbreak, but instead of being sure in his seclusion, he embraces the unknown. The album teeters between interludes of platitudes about isolation and ruminations on failed human connection, and maximally arranged clutches of uncertainty. “When my mind’s clouded and filled with doubt / That’s when I feel the most alive,” Sumney coos over horns and piano on slinky soul song “Cut Me”; it’s an effective mantra for the album.

Read the rest of our review here.

Norah Jones - Pick Me Up Off The Floor (Blue Note)

At the time we previewed Norah Jones’ 7th studio album, she had only released a few tracks from it. Turns out the rest was just as powerful. From the blues stomp of “Flame Twin” to the rolling piano stylings of “Hurts to Be Alone”, Pick Me Up Off The Floor is an album full of jazzy orchestrations and soul and gospel-indebted arrangements, Jones’ silky, yearning voice tying together the simple, yet lush and deep instrumentation. And that other Tweedy feature, that closes the album? It’s a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness, one of many on a record that still manages to celebrate being alive all the while. - JM

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher (Dead Oceans)

Phoebe Bridgers is a master of details. Her lyrics shine when they get specific. They range from the mundane to morbid: A superfan’s ghost-like wandering under a drugstore’s fluorescent lights, a skinhead likely buried under a blooming garden, reckoning with the you in “Moon Song”’s lines, “You are sick, and you’re married / And you might be dying.” Bridgers has always been able to set a scene meticulously, and Punisher arrived with 11 songs that expanded that skill, both lyrically and musically, with her dark humor intact and a fuller sound that includes her boygenuis collaborators’ harmonies. - LL

PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love: The Demos & Dry - The Demos (Island)

Yes, revisiting Dry’s demos as a separate entity is still worthwhile. Harvey’s powerhouse vocal performance carries the acoustic strummed “Oh My Lover”, while the comparatively minimal arrangement of “Victory” highlights bluesy riffing, call-and-response harmonies, and layered guitar and vocals. The singles, the slinky and sharp “Dress” and propulsive anthem “Sheela-Na-Gig”, hold up to their ultimate studio versions, too. But it’s the To Bring You My Love material that provides novelty because it’s never been released and more so because it encompasses the greatest aesthetic contrast from the album. From the warbling hues and guitar lines of the title track to the tremolo haze of “Teclo” to the crisp snares of “Working With The Man”, the demos show a continuity and level of cohesiveness with the diversity of Dry and Rid of Me not shown on the studio version of Harvey’s more accessible commercial breakout. (Predictably, the album’s most well-known song, “Down by the Water”, is the closest to its eventual version.) “Long Snake Moan” is simultaneously more spacious and more noisy, its garage blues a total contrast to the lurking “I Think I’m A Mother” and swaying shanty “Send His Love To Me”. And “The Dancer” fully embraces its flamenco influences, hand claps and all.

Porridge Radio - Every Bad (Secretly Canadian)

Is there a better opening line than “I’m bored to death, let’s argue”? That kind of duality is found across all of Every Bad as it grapples with the frustrations and anxiety of trying to figure it all out, whatever that might mean for you. “Maybe I was born confused, but I’m not,” vocalist Dana Margolin repeats throughout the opening track, roping in listeners with the dizzying feeling of trying to make sense of yourself. The band’s guitar and synth sound coupled with Margolin’s howl makes for a dance party filled with dread, rendering Margolin’s already strong, repetitive lyrics even more spiraling. And yet, by the time we get to “Lilacs”, a glimmer of something else shines through as the music gets more manic and Margolin’s voice begins to soar: “I don’t want to get bitter / I want us to get better / I want us to be kinder / To ourselves and to each other.” - LL

Sault - Untitled (Rise) & Untitled (Black Is) (Forever Living Originals)

Yes, Black Is still pulls plenty of devastating punches. “Eternal Life”, a segue from the gospel boost of “US”, juxtaposes a deliberate drum beat with zooming synths, both ascending like a chorus of angels, as they sing, “I see sadness in your eye / ‘Cause I know you don’t wanna die,” presenting the oppression of Black life at the hands of white supremacy in inarguable terms. Ultimately, though, it’s the anthemic nature of the songs, resistant of platitudes, that shines through. “Nobody cared / This generation cares,” says Laurette Josiah on “This Generation”. Whether she’s talking about young people in general or the latest generation of young Black leaders, the sentiment is reflected on songs like “Black”, wherein over dynamic, sinewy instrumentation, the singers alternate between encouragement, support, and love of the self and others.

Read our full review here.

Shamir - Shamir (self-released)

Shamir’s voice is a bright beacon in a sea of conventional singers. Shamir captures the effervescence of pop music and weaves it together with elements of country, alt rock, and diary confessional lyrics all supported by the emotion and range of his vocals. There’s something for everyone across the album’s 11 shimmering tracks. Lead single and opener “On My Own” feels like a declaration of self and self-sufficiency, an anthem of a breakup song. The almost pop-punk bounce of “Pretty When I’m Sad”, paired perfectly with lines like the angst-ridden, “Let’s fuck around inside each other’s heads,” feels impossible to not bop along to. The twang of “Other Side” would put a country crooner to shame. That’s the power of Shamir. His voice has the ability to smoothly convey joy, resilience, and humor. He uses elements of several genres, not just the dance-pop of his debut, to build a unique album that gives listeners so much to sift through and, of course, dance to. - LL

Songhoy Blues - Optimisme (Fat Possum)

If Songhoy Blues’ second album Resistance lacked “the grit of its predecessor,” it’s clear from the hard rock stomp of the opening track of Malian band’s third album Optimisme that they rediscovered their mojo. More importantly, they couple this maximal brashness with tributes to those who make their world a better place: fighters for freedom, women, the young. It’s perhaps the first Songhoy Blues record to truly combine the celebratory nature of their desert blues with a balanced mixture of idealism and vigor. - JM

Spanish Love Songs - Brave Faces Everyone (Pure Noise)  

How can you find hope in hopelessness, or optimism when every news story points to cruelty? Is it naïve to keep searching for light in the dark? I don’t think so, and I don’t think Spanish Love Songs does, either. I’d like to think we both believe that’s not naivety, but power. It’s the embers you need to really ignite a flame. After all, this is the band with a song titled “Optimism (As a Radical Life Choice)”. It’s a band whose crunching guitars and earnestness insist that despite death and depression and addiction, the instinct to survive shines brightly above all. That relentless hope resurfaces across Brave Faces Everyone’s 10 tracks even as it works through the bleakness of everyday life. - LL

Tashi Dorji - Stateless (Drag City)

The magnum opus from the Asheville-based picker is a group of evocatively titled, disorderly songs about the desolate hellscape of America for outsiders and immigrants. Enigmatic in its nature, not exactly narrative, Stateless combines Dorji’s urgent strumming with moody motifs, captured beautifully in a studio setting for maximum emotional wallop. - JM

Touche Amore - Lament (Epitaph)

Is this what an almost uplifting Touche Amore album sounds like? It’s cathartic in a newer way for the band, especially after the beautifully rendered grief of Stage Four. Lament loses none of the band’s aggression or urgency. “Come Heroine” thrusts listeners into that urgency and introduces a moment of warmth, Jeremy Bolm’s vocals still rasping and insistent: “You brought me in / You took to me / And reversed the atrophy.” The bounciness of “Reminders” may seem close to optimism, but a sharper look at the lyrics uncovers more than blindly looking to the things that bring joy. “I’ll Be Your Host” is reflective, a few years removed from Touche Amore’s previous album and the immediacy of loss, self-aware and growing, but still raw. The album closer, “A Forecast”, takes a turn, a lone voice and piano acting as a confessional before giving way to thrashing guitars and the realization that growth and reckoning with trauma doesn’t mean minimizing it. It means learning to keep moving forward and to stop for help when you may need it. - LL

Waxahatchee - Saint Cloud (Merge)

The best album yet from Katie Crutchfield is inspired by positive personal change (getting sober, dealing with codependency issues, her blossoming love with singer-songwriter Kevin Morby) and reflections on family and friends. Named after the suburb of Orlando where her father’s from, Saint Cloud is a genre-hopping collection of stories and feelings that doesn’t necessarily follow any semblance of narrative. On opener “Oxbow” and country-tinged ditty “Can’t Do Much”, Crutchfield’s increasingly aware of the need to pick your side and your battles, whether in the relationship between two people or between the allure of the bottle and the next-day hangover. Some of the best songs on the album see her finding commonalities with others as a means towards self-love. Gentle strummer “The Eye” refers to her natural creative relationships with Morby and her sister Allison. “War” she wrote for herself and best friend, who is also sober, the title a metaphor for one’s fight to remain substance-free. “Witches” is an ode to her best friends, including Allison and Snail Mail’s Lindsey Jordan, all equally frustrated by the toxic nature of the music industry and the world at large, ultimately lifting each other up because they simply have each other.

Read our full review here.

[olivemac]

1300 miles | chapter two | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, very very slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | Likes and comments always appreciated. :)

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

1300 miles playlist

Tag | @mrs--barnes

_____

previous chapter

_____

Jo wakes the next morning to a text from Danny: Did you fuck the Winter Soldier?

She rolls her eyes and responds: Fuck off. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore.

Danny replies with a leaf emoji and the words: Come upstairs.

Jo slides her glasses on and climbs out of bed. She pads into the living room as quietly as she can to find Bucky snoring on her couch with Toulouse perched on his chest. She can’t stop herself from snapping a picture with her phone.

Upstairs, she lets herself into Danny’s apartment. She’s met at the door by Greta, Danny’s PTSD service dog, a medium-sized German Shepherd who waits patiently for Jo to kneel down and scratch her behind her ears.

“Morning, pup,” Jo whispers.

“I’m out here,” Danny calls from his third-floor balcony.

“Coffee?” Jo asks.

“Cold-brew in the fridge,” Danny responds.

She detours to the kitchen before joining Danny at the small table on his balcony.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Jo asks. Danny always smokes the morning after a nightmare.

“They’re called flashbacks, and yes,” he responds, taking a deep drag of the joint.

“But they’re getting better, right?”

"Since you came back, yeah, they're getting better."

“Give me that,” Jo says, reaching for the joint. She takes a drag then exhales slowly. “You can always wake me up when you have a flashback, you know.”

Danny snorts. “I was afraid I’d wander into your bedroom to find you getting dicked down by an Avenger.”

“Please stop,” Jo groans. "You get that you're my brother, right? And this is weird."

Danny laughs, "It's only weird if you make it weird." Then he says, “Seriously, though, what’s the deal with Mister Tall-Dark-and-Handsome? I mean, if Sam trusts him, then he must be a good guy, but he’s literally a hundred years old, Jo.”

“He’s…” she pauses, “really sweet and charming underneath the brooding exterior. I really like him, Danny.”

“But?”

“But he lives in New York,” she whines.

“Yeah,” Danny says, taking another drag on the joint.

“‘Yeah?’ That’s all you’re going to say?”

Danny shrugs. “Some things are worth working for.”

Jo laughs, “Okay, why don’t you get back to me when you’re not high. I’m heading back downstairs.”

“Love you, Josiebean,” Danny says, using the nickname he gave Jo when they were kids.

“Love you, too, Daniel-San,” Jo replies. Danny laughs at the Karate Kid reference like he always does, and Jo kisses his forehead and pats his shoulder before leaving.

_____

Bucky wakes to the smell of coffee and bacon, his stomach rumbling at the scent. There's a warm weight on his chest, and when he opens his eyes he's greeted with the yellow stare of Toulouse.

He looks at his watch. It's a little after eleven. He usually wakes earlier, but he also doesn't usually sleep as soundly as he did last night.

He wanders into the kitchen in his borrowed sweats to find Jo standing at the stove in an oversized t-shirt, shorts, and out-of-season Halloween socks, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Her back is to him, and he takes the opportunity to study her naked legs. More ink peaks out from the hem of her shorts and covers most of her thighs. Bucky has the urge to drop to his knees before her and run his tongue over every intricate design.

Instead, he clears his throat, so he doesn't startle her, and she turns to face him. Her face is bare, and she’s wearing large, gold-rimmed glasses. Bucky can’t decide if she looks prettier like this or like she did last night, with her hair flowing down her back and her guitar in her hands.

"Morning," Jo says. “Sorry to shatter the illusion,” she continues, gesturing to her glasses and outfit.

Bucky smiles. He isn’t sure what the protocol is for greeting the woman you made out with and whose couch you slept on last night, but he decides he wants to kiss her again. He takes the few steps toward her and pulls her into his arms. This close, she has to crane her neck up to look him in the eyes.

“Morning,” he says. They’re so close and his voice is pitched so low that Jo can feel the word rumble in his chest. Butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Bucky leans down slowly and presses his lips against Jo’s. This kiss is softer and slower than the kisses they shared last night, and the heat that explodes in Jo’s lower stomach burns the butterflies away. Her fingers dig into his triceps, one arm yielding to her touch, the other firm against her digits. She sighs and opens her mouth to his tongue, letting him deepen the kiss.

He licks into her mouth, and Jo moans, her hands coming up to cup his stubble-covered cheeks. Bucky’s own hands slide down Jo’s back to her buttocks, pulling her hips flush against his so she can feel the effect she’s having on him. Jo gasps, and Bucky’s lips leave hers to trail wet kisses against her jaw.

When he pulls away, Bucky’s smile is almost smug. He likes all the sounds he’s able to pull from her, and he wants to hear more.

Jo turns back to the stove, catching her breath and trying to hide the flush she knows is rising from her chest to her cheeks.

“Breakfast — well," she looks at the clock on the oven, "brunch — is ready. Have a seat.”

Bucky places a final kiss against the back of Jo’s neck before sitting.

Toulouse rubs against Bucky's legs beneath the kitchen table. He reaches down to scratch Louie between the ears, and the cat lets out a contented chirp.

"He's usually not that nice to strangers," Jo says, watching the two of them from across the room.

"My sister had a cat growing up — big, fat orange thing that was missing half an ear. His name was Marmalade."

Jo smiles brightly and sets a plate of food in front of him. “Coffee?” she asks.

“Please,” Bucky says. “But I can get it.”

“No need,” she says, handing him a mug of fresh coffee. “You want oat milk? Sugar, maybe?”

“Black is good,” Bucky says, taking his first sip.

Jo sits across from him with her own plate and coffee cup. They spend breakfast talking quietly. Bucky likes the domesticity of it. He's gotten used to having breakfast at the Wilson's with Sarah, Sam, and the boys, but this meal with Jo feels more intimate. He has a brief flash of spending every morning like this, but he pushes it away as quickly as it comes. He's trying not to overthink whatever’s happening between himself and Jo. He’s not used to having good things in his life, but he wants to lean into this, take the risk.

"You said last night that you know who I am," Bucky says as they clear their plates from the table.

Jo is quiet for a moment, neatly stacking plates and coffee cups in the dishwasher.

“I may have seen a documentary or two featuring the Howling Commandos,” she says, closing the dishwasher and turning to Bucky. “And Sam and Steve may have crashed in Danny’s apartment for a couple of months when they were on the run following the Accords.”

Bucky is silent. He's staring at Jo with the same brooding intensity as last night, but there's something more in his eyes — a sadness she hadn't noticed earlier. She's seen that look before on Danny when he first came back from Afghanistan. It's the look of someone who's lost everything. But as quickly as it's there, it's gone.

Bucky clears his throat. “You knew Steve?” he asks.

“Yeah. I mean, briefly,” she whispers. “Let me show you something.”

He follows her into the living room where she pulls a box from one of the bookshelves. She empties the contents onto the coffee table; it's a handful of polaroids featuring varied combinations of Jo and Sam and Steve and Danny. Bucky sits on the couch and picks up one of the photos. It's of Steve with a German Shepherd; in the photo Steve is smiling brightly, and Bucky's heart aches at the sight.

"That's Greta," Jo says, sitting next to Bucky, "Danny's dog. She was just a puppy then. She adored Steve."

Bucky laughs through his nose and picks up another photo. This one features Sam and Jo sitting at a table in a kitchen that looks like Jo's but slightly different — Bucky assumes it's Danny's; Sam is clearly in the middle of a story, and Jo's head is thrown back in laughter. A stab of jealousy hits him in the chest — Bucky wants to make her laugh like that. He skims through the rest of the polaroids, finally landing on one of Jo and Steve sitting side by side at a piano, Steve's large frame dwarfing the woman next to him.

"He found out I can play a few '30s and '40s standards on piano," Jo says, smiling at the memory. "There wasn't a lot for him and Sam to do cooped up here for three months, so I taught him some basics."

Bucky stares at the photo for a while before he speaks. "You play piano?" he asks.

"I started on piano, took up guitar when I was ten, then bass when I was thirteen. I can also play drums, organ, banjo, mandolin, and a little violin," she says. "And I have a Bachelors of Music with a concentration in voice."

Bucky stares at her for a moment, then tosses the photo back onto the coffee table and reaches for Jo, pulling her onto his lap. She settles with her legs on either side of his hips and her hands on his shoulders.

"So, you have very talented fingers, then?" Bucky asks with a flirty grin.

Jo rolls her eyes and laughs, but she's secretly pleased with where this interaction seems to be headed. She was worried Bucky would feel like she had kept something from him by not telling him about Steve last night, but he seems to be taking it in stride.

"Thanks for showing me those photographs," Bucky says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "He gave up everything for me back then, so it's nice to see that maybe he had a little bit of happiness during that time."

"He wanted the same for you," she whispers, nudging her nose against Bucky's.

Bucky kisses her softly, then pulls away, staring into her green eyes. Jo slides her glasses off and sets them on the coffee table behind her.

She drags a finger down his vibranium arm and asks, “Can you feel that?”

Bucky licks his lips. “Yeah. It’s—it’s different from the real one, but yeah.”

Jo hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t say anything else. Their lips meet again, and this time the kiss is longer, needier. Bucky sweeps his tongue into her mouth, and Jo is certain she's going to have beard burn across her face tomorrow. But she doesn't really care.

Jo slides her hands into Bucky's hair, and he sighs into her mouth when she angles her hips against his just right, pressing against him slowly. His grip on her waist tightens before he slips his vibranium hand down across her backside to gently guide her movements. His flesh hand covers her right breast, palming her through her shirt.

Jo's hands leave his hair to slide beneath Bucky's t-shirt. He pulls back from her slightly and puts his hand over hers.

“I have scars,” Bucky warns.

“Okay,” Jo mumbles against his lips, trying for another kiss.

Bucky pulls back again. “They’re not pretty.”

Jo looks at him. “Bucky, do you really think I care about that? Do I look like someone who’s worried about conventional beauty standards?” she jokes. She smiles softly and brings a hand up to cradle his jaw. “You don’t have to show me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she whispers, leaning in to kiss him again.

He pulls away from her mouth to tug the shirt over his head before he can overthink it. He’s gorgeous like this, and Jo wants to touch every inch of him. She starts with his chest, and her fingers dance lightly across the scars on Bucky’s left shoulder before she presses a quick kiss to the spot where flesh meets metal. Bucky smiles at the gesture, then his lips are on Jo's neck. As he sucks a mark into the place where her neck meets her shoulder, Bucky slips his flesh hand beneath the fabric of Jo's shirt.

Bucky's thumb slides across her nipple, and he pauses, warm metal against his digit stopping him. Jo can feel Bucky's fingers against her breast, trying to work out what exactly he's touching. She leans back, her hands on Bucky's chest to keep him from following her and pulls her t-shirt over her head.

Bucky's fairly certain his heart stops at the sight before him. He’s not sure what to look at first: the small gold balls that adorn either side of Jo’s erect nipples or the intricate floral design inked on her sternum between and below her breasts, framing them perfectly.

“So…I have my nipples pierced,” Jo says, taking Bucky’s staring for hesitation or confusion.

Bucky licks his lips. “Fuck,” he mutters before running his thumb across her right nipple and taking the left one between his teeth.

Jo hisses and bucks her hips harder against his cock. He's hot and hard beneath her as she grinds against him. The feeling he had last night – of being on fire – has returned, but it's tenfold now. Every thought of taking things slow, every bit of doubt has evaporated in wake of his need to please Jo.

Bucky grips Jo's waist and flips her onto her back on the couch, coming to rest between her open legs.

“Is this okay?” he asks, pressing his bare chest against hers. His dog tags are cool against her skin.

“Very," she breathes.

Bucky's lips find Jo's again before trailing across her jaw, down her neck, and over her breasts. He lets his tongue explore one of her pierced nipples before taking the bud between his teeth and pulling slightly. Jo gasps, and her own hands slide from Bucky's shoulders down his chest and across his stomach, her blunt fingernails scratching against his abs as she goes. She palms his cock through his sweats, and Bucky's hips stutter. His eyes clench shut like he’s in pain, and he pulls away to catch his breath.

"Sorry," Jo says quickly, removing her hand. "We can slow down."

"No," Bucky all but growls, then takes another deep breath and opens his eyes. "No. It's just been," he pauses, "it's been a while since I've done this, and you're kind of driving me crazy, Jo." He lets out a breathy laugh, then seems to sober. "I just—I, uh, need to be in control of some things. If that's okay."

She smiles her understanding before kissing him, softer this time. Bucky leans into the kiss and sweeps his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He props himself up with his vibranium hand, and his right hand moves back to Jo's breasts, teasing each nipple in turn.

"Tell me what you want," Jo says as Bucky's teeth bite gently at her pulse point.

Bucky presses his lips against Jo's ear and whispers, "Touch yourself. Please. I want to watch you fall apart."

Jo whimpers. She catches the look on Bucky's face as her hand travels down her body and into her shorts. His pupils are blown wide, barely a hint of blue visible around black. She knows her own eyes look much the same.

She hisses when her fingers meet the bundle of nerves between her legs, then slide lower. Bucky can't decide if he wants to watch her hand beneath her shorts or her face. He settles for moving his eyes between her face and breasts, watching them rise and fall with each breath she takes. Finally, he lowers his head back between her breasts and traces the outline of the tattoo there with his tongue. Jo moans and bucks her hips.

Bucky presses his own hips against the couch, trying to find the smallest bit of relief. He's not going to last. It's been too long since he's been with someone this way, and his body feels like a live wire. He reaches up to push the fabric of her shorts aside, moaning when he realizes she's not wearing anything beneath them.

He feels Jo's fingers pull away, and he growls, "Keep touching yourself." She does, her fingers rubbing hard circles into her clit. "Good girl," Bucky praises, and Jo keens, Bucky's name falling from her lips.

He slips his own fingers inside of her. She's so wet and warm, Bucky is afraid he'll finish just from this. Or maybe it will be the sound of her moans that do me in, he thinks. Because she sounds lovely, better than she did on stage last night. And she feels perfect wrapped around his two digits. He adds a third, and Jo's whole body tenses. Bucky can feel her warm heat tighten around his fingers as her legs bend and draw in closer to her body. The sight of Jo coming pushes him over the edge. He's spilling into his sweatpants like a teenager, and he doesn't even care. All he can think of is the sound of Jo, the feel of Jo, the look on Jo's face.

Bucky collapses onto Jo's body, his full weight resting on her for a second before he props himself up again and looks at her. She's smiling sleepily, a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and he can't help but admit that it makes his ego swell to know he can make her smile like that.

"That was..." he starts.

Jo hesitates, then runs her fingers through his hair softly. "Good? Great? Amazing?" she says.

Bucky breathes out a laugh and rests his head on her chest for a moment. "All of the above," he replies. Jo hums, and Bucky continues, lifting his head again to look at her, "You're fucking perfect, doll."

Jo laughs, and replies, "You probably say that to all the girls, Sarge."

Bucky sobers. "No, Jo, I don't. Really." He brushes a strand of hair from her face. "When I said I haven't done this in a while, that was an understatement," he says. Dr. Raynor told him he needed to open up, nurture friendships (or whatever this is turning into), so here he goes. "I wasn't really planning on this happening — not that I'm not glad that it did..." He pauses.

"But you live in New York, and I live here. And we just met,” Jo finishes.

"I don't know how things like this work these days," he says. He's looking at her with such sincerity that Jo thinks her heart might burst. "I told you I wanted to do this right. Dinner, flowers, the whole nine yards.”

Jo cocks her head to the side and smiles. "Let's start with dinner."

_____

They lay in silence for a while, Bucky's head resting on Jo's naked breasts, her fingers running through his hair. Jo's starting to think he's fallen asleep when Bucky speaks again.

“I should probably go,” Bucky says reluctantly. "Sam was expecting my help with the boat today."

"I'll drive you," Jo says. "Just let me get dressed."

"You don't have to do that. I can call a cab."

"Delacroix's, like, an hour outside the city. It'll cost a fortune. Let me drive you."

Bucky hesitates, but Jo nudges at his right shoulder gently until he agrees. He presses a soft kiss to her lips before he stands and offers her a hand. While Bucky moves into the bathroom to change back into his own boxers and jeans, Jo slips into her room. She comes back out wearing jeans and a vintage Lilith Fair t-shirt; she's traded her glasses for contacts. Jo shoves her feet into her combat boots at the door and turns back to kiss Bucky quickly before they leave the apartment.

_____

The drive to Delacroix is quiet except for Jo's Paul Simon playlist thrumming from the car speakers. Bucky thinks he might actually like the music. Or maybe he just likes listening to Jo sing every word.

When Jo pulls up outside Sarah's house, Bucky turns to her from the passenger seat. “I don’t have your number,” he says.

“Give me your phone," she responds, smiling and holding her hand out.

Bucky unlocks his phone and hands it over. Jo saves her number before texting herself so she has his, as well. She deletes the text conversation and hands his phone back.

"There you go, Sarge," she says with a wink.

Bucky leans across the car's console and wraps his vibranium hand around the back of Jo's neck. He pulls her close and presses his lips against hers gently. Jo responds by running her fingers across the stubble on Bucky's jaw and sweeping her tongue into his mouth. A moan rumbles through Bucky's chest, and he tries to move closer to Jo's body, but he knocks his knees roughly against the center divider.

"Shit," he curses, pulling away. "It was easier to kiss a dame in the front seat of a car in the '40s," Bucky complains.

Jo laughs. "Kissing a lot of dames in cars, were you?"

"I got around," Bucky says, a grin on his face.

He feels like himself around Jo – not exactly the person he was before the war, but close. He almost feels like he could be a better version of that man; he wants to be that for Jo. For now, though, it's easy to flirt and laugh with her, watch her eyes light up and her smile brighten.

"I believe it, Sarge," Jo teases. Over Bucky's shoulder, she notices Sam standing on the front porch of the house. "I think I've stolen you away from Sam long enough," she says.

"Please, doll, steal me away anytime," Bucky flirts. He kisses her once more. "I'll see you Tuesday," he whispers, his hand lingering on her cheek before he climbs out of the car.

“Looks like someone had a good night,” Sam laughs as Bucky ascends the front porch steps.

“We are not talking about this,” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, we’re definitely talking about this,” Sam says, clapping Bucky on the back.

______

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