Los Angles, California 1970
Your friend had somehow convinced you to go to a Led Zeppelin concert. You didn't like them very much, you were much over a Pink Floyd girl, but it was her birthday so you complied. You were busy getting ready, putting on your floral dress and put on your flower crown over your wild, untamed hair. Some would call you a hippie, but you didn't care much for labels. As you finished up your makeup, your friend berated through the door ecstatically.
"Y/N!!! I GOT BACKSTAGE PASSES!!!" She pauses to catch her a breath and does a little dance. "I'M GOING TO FUCK JIMMY PAGE!!!" She yelled exuberantly.
"Could you quiet down? If I get another complaint about noise level, I might get kicked out of my apartment" You complain.
"Excuseeeee meeeee! But we're going to a Led Zeppelin concert and it's my birthday! Be happy, y/n."
"Fine." You say, excepting there was no getting out of this now.
"Good! And you, my dear are going to fuck Robert Plant!"
With this statement you roll your eyes, you loved your friend to death, but God could she be bothersome.
"Hate to break it to you, but that's never going to happen. If you want to see them I suggest we get going, it's almost eight."
She doesn't reply to your statement, she just gives you a glare and heads out the door.
You swore you could hear her murmur "bitch", under her breath, but you ignored it as the two of you climbed into her car and headed your way to the concert.
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It was after the concert, you were backstage, not entirely sober and couldn't find your friend. The concert was more enjoyable than you expected, the singer that your friend referred to as Robert kept eye contact with you for the entire show. You heard moans coming from the inside of a adjacent door. You assumed she was actually fucking that Jimmy guy. You were beyond bored, so you sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning back against the door. You felt yourself doze off into a peaceful, but drug induced slumber.
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When you woke up, you had no idea where you were. Your head pulsed with a intense headache. As the harsh California sunlight hit your eyes, leaving you dazed and confused, you observed your surroundings. You were in a hotel room, a not exactly high scale, but not exactly a trash bin, suite. You got up from the bed and walked out into the hallway, where you saw a mustached man riding down the hall on a motorcycle. You felt as though you were in some weird LSD induced hallucination. You scratched your head in confusion and the mustache, motorcycle man seemed to notice as he came over.
"How my I help you Miss?" He says whilst holding out his hand to shake.
"Um.." You take a moment to collect your thoughts, as you were suffering a hangover from last nights antics. You assumed you being in this strange place that your friend had gotten you into it. She was quite the groupie. "First, where am I? And second have you seen y/f/n?" You say shaking the mans hand.
He chuckles lightheartedly.
" You're in the Riot House, obviously, what'd you mean you don't know where you are? Y/f/n is in room 98, with Jimmy."
"Thank you Mr....?" You say asking the man for his name.
"Bonham. John Bonham. But friends call me Bonzo, and for future reference what's your name?"
Bonzo says winking sarcastically.
"Y/N." You say in response.
"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
He smirks and pauses, as to collect his thoughts.
"Well I guess I'll be off Y/N, but I hope I'll see you again, adiós amigos!"
You wave as you watch the bearded man start up his motorcycle and continue riding down the hall.
Weird. You couldn't help but feel slightly turned on and mesmerized by Bonzo.
I. DONT. EVEN. KNOW.
LMao
