#concert experience was even better i actually felt like. there was water around me. this Does Not make sense but whatever

[gnatlistens]

the instrumentals in Punisher are incredible. like waves, drowning underwater

#STILL OBSESSED #phoebe bridgers #thoughts #just gonna throw these here sometimes #2024 edit - old draft from jun 2023 #concert experience was even better i actually felt like. there was water around me. this Does Not make sense but whatever

[swiftful-thinking13]

thank you! okay so I was lucky enough to be able to go to closing night and I was super pumped cause I had never been to a closing night before and I asked my best friend to go with me and he has gone with me to every taylor concert since 1989 and he really likes her, he's not like a huge fan or anything but he'll usually ask me like what's going on w her and stuff and we usually have a great time but like even from the day we left for LA he seemed kinda off like he hit a bit of a snag in airport security, they had to check his bag cause he packed too big a bottle of sunscreen, and he said something along the lines of "you're gonna need to thank me at least 100 times for coming with you" like I should be lucky he decided to come with me which rubbed me the wrong way but I let it go cause of the security issue thing, then we got there and wandered around for a bit, went to the Grammy museum and I started cramping cause I hadn't drank enough water so we get me some water then decide to go back to the hotel for a bit and then went to dinner and he ordered a drink and I just kept drinking water cause I didn't want to get more dehydrated but we noticed they had Taylor themed drinks so he tried to get me to try one but I just stuck w the water and kind of out of nowhere he says something like "the only thing you're interested in is Taylor" and that's like patently false cause we talk about a bunch of different stuff including his main interest in cars but I was so taken aback cause it seemingly came out of nowhere/only cause I didn't feel like drinking and its true I'm not like a huge drinker but I do enjoy having a beverage every once in a while but I'm also a bit more self-conscious about it cause my mom was an alcoholic and he knows that but again I just kinda let it go cause I really wanted to enjoy my time there and so the next day we go to the concert and like I had told him the day before the stadium didn't accept cash which I didn't know until I got the email from sofi about like rules for the stadium which I saw like the day before and he only really uses cash so he was put out about it and then as we were waiting in line to go in I kinda turned to him and asked if he was excited and he was like "depending on how the night goes this may be the last time I ever go to a concert, I'm getting too old for shows" (neither of us are even 30 yet) which was just like...weird. So for the opening acts I kept asking how he was doing and if it was too loud and he assured me he was fine and like I had made a comment about something to do with Taylor and he was like "I'm not interested in Taylor like you so I wouldn't know." So then Taylor came on and of course I was screaming and dancing along but he just kinda stood there with his hands clasped and he would mouth the lyrics but wasn't actually singing and would cheer occasionally but again I asked him multiple times if he was okay and he said yeah but in the past like he would get as into it as me so it just seemed like he was waiting for it to be over or something and it's like I had a great time but I also kinda feel like idk like it was tainted almost I feel like I was more focused on him than enjoying myself and it kinda took me out of the experience/really felt like I was there alone which really bums me out cause that was the only show I was able to go to for eras and then as we were leaving sofi he bought a shot of patron from one of the vendors outside and talked about how he was gonna buy a bottle when we got back home and it felt like that was the most animated he was all night. Idk the whole situation has left me feeling v weird and just :/

oh my GOD not to be that person but why do men have to ruin EVERYTHING fuckkkk like you should’ve been having the time of your life instead of worrying about your lame ass friend 🙄 god I’m so annoyed for you lol I’m sorry but you deserved a better time than that

[coyoxxtl]

if you don't mind me asking, which is better, tripping on acid or tripping on shrooms. also is it possible to get cross faded or do they cancel each other out?

not at all I love giving drug advice :3c

It’s hard to say what’s better bc I love both but I believe they serve different purposes and thus, different experiences.

Acid trips are like, a fun loud party you have to commit to. Their trips last about 12-14 hours, and tend to make one pretty active. You wanna do like Everything, like watch movies/shows, listen to music, walk around outside, etc. Drawing is also incredibly fun on acid, and I can safely say they helped me understand color theory better than any class. Colors are incredible and everything has a rainbow veneer, one time it made Metalocalypse looks SUPER HD and I was convinced that it was a part that didnt exist outside the trip ghrheh. The one downside I can say is that having a bad/weird trips is fairly easy, since they last so long. I took acid quite a few times and my last two trips ended up being weirdly scary even though I knew how to handle my acid. It’s a fickle mistress, but I have tons of fun on it and if you take your normal pre-trip prep it should be gravy.

Shrooms (the ones I took were psilocybe mexicana) on the other hand are like, it’s chiller less neurotic sibling. Shroom trips only last about 6-8 hours, and they don’t wanna make you do shit lol. The kinds of stimulus I want on shrooms is v different than acid, p much strictly natural stimulus; sunlight, trees, wind and water noises…also dancing lol. Colors are still vibrant but theres more patterns floating around (funnily enough they look like the patterns found in pre-columbian mexican codices; mexican flavored visuals lol) They also make you Super social, like when I took some w two other friends all we did that whole trip was talk about awful work stories. When I try to watch something w a friend we just end up talking about what we’re watching instead of actually paying attention. It’s like a homey lil trip that makes you feel good in a soft and comfortable way. In fact, I took shrooms the days after I felt I emerged from an acid trip wrong. tho I can’t say I took a HUGE dose of shrooms yet, only 2g doses, so I don’t think I had a chance to completely lose my gourd on them yet unlike acid ghggh

I think the difference between them lies in their purpose, acid is made to be a party drug, a good time to have in concerts. It comes from ergot, a fungus that grows on rye wheat, concentrated into liquid and saturated in paper. and is theorized to be why the mass hysteria in Salem broke out into the witch trials. (baking the fungus into their rye bread left trace amounts of LSD that may have drove them apeshit) while Shrooms we’re used as medicine, for rituals of internal healing, and they definitely act as such. You also consume them the way they are grown in nature, save for some processes.

As far as getting crossfaded w them I have no idea I haven’t actually done that yet🤔maybe one day

#i hope this is comprehensive hegrhegrheg #im not good at this sorta thing but god do i try #ask

[mountswhore]

hey! see u were taking requests so i wanted one with mason related to "london boy" by taylor swift? maybe reader is a singer or something like that?

one of the best taylor swift songs imo, so of course!

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 — mason mount

summary: mason shows you around london during your break, and now you don't think you can ever go back

notes: requests are open again! my asks are open.

Leaving your hometown in New York to visit the world was one of the hardest things you had to do. But you had your dream job, now it was time to follow it. Your recent album was a success, pouring your heart into it as you recovered from your breakup. Your fans had watched your relationship build, and then break apart. Hearing your side of things through 14 songs. Awards, interviews, and traction had come from it, earning you a world tour. It was a scary thing to do, considering it was your first international tour.

“I just want to come back to New York already, I’ve not been on this tour long.” You complained to your sister, curled up in a hotel bed in London. Your first destination was the UK, and there was nothing worse than being homesick.

“Quit being a baby, the UK is so nice.” Your sister replied, chuckling shortly afterwards. “Me and dad visited Manchester, I think? Very nice looking, at least where we stayed.” You sighed, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You loved your cosy apartment in New York, you were even starting to miss the constant traffic sounds and arguing in the early hours of the morning.

“I guess, and I know London is nice, at least. I think I’m gonna interact with some fans,” you decided, pulling the duvet further up your body, “speak tomorrow at sound check.” You ended the call, liking some tweets and replying to a few things, eventually tweeting something of your own.

“Happy to see a lot of my UK fans tomorrow, can’t wait to scream my feelings out with you,” Declan read out, giving Mason a cheeky look. The pair of them were in Mason’s living room, enjoying their evening of FIFA. The boys had spoken about you plenty of times, in interviews too, Mason declaring you as his celebrity crush.

“Shut up already, she probably doesn’t even know who I am.” Mason stated, resting his arm over his eyes to conceal the blush on his face. Him, Declan and a few other boys were going to your concert tomorrow night, some of the WAGs suggested it as they loved your music.

“You think she’s not going to notice a blue tick in her dm’s? It’s worth a shot.” Declan encouraged his friend to shoot his shot, close to grabbing his phone and doing it himself, but instead he was watching Mason bashfully scroll through your twitter replies. “Do it, or I will.”

Mason sighed, clicking the reply button and typing out a reply, handing the phone to Declan to review. ‘Can’t wait, wanna see you.’

“Perfect,” Declan mumbled, pressing the reply button for him. He knew Mason never would, he just saved him 20 minutes of back and forth debate. Handing Mason his phone back, Declan smirked as he watched his friend's face change from fairly embarrassed, to shocked.

“There’s no fucking way you sent that.” Mason remarked, refreshing his phone to see his tweet attract likes. “You dick.”

Declan just laughed as Mason had turned completely red, watching the likes and replies collect under his tweet. Moments later, you’d appeared in his dm’s.

‘I recognise you.’

It was an ominous message from you, one that had you pacing and replaying the creepy message over and over again. But Mason smiled at the message, all ounces of worry leaving his body as he replied to you.

‘Oh yeah? From where?’

‘Actually, I think I recognise your teammate, Pulisic. He’s all my brother talks about sometimes. But all I know is that he plays for a soccer team.’

He laughed at your reply, Declan watching over in pure disbelief.

‘You have a lot to learn about the UK, and luckily I know all about it.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, come backstage after the show, bring whoever you’re with. I’m in London for the next few days before my next show, maybe you can show me around.’

“There’s no way you’re flirting with Y/N Y/L/N within two minutes of replying to her tweet.” Declan stated, Mason smirking at his best friend before sending another reply.

‘Bet.'

Your show was now over and you were anxiously waiting for the boys to be escorted back stage. You didn't know much about football, especially over here, but you knew the boys that were coming back stage were professionals. You'd learnt their names, Declan, Jack, and Mason. Jack and Declan brought their girlfriends along, but Mason was 'painfully single', as he put it.

Finally, as you sat down in your chair to relax, you heard a knock at the door. It was them. They had all filed in, the two girls in shock that they were meeting you. You'd given them all a hug, and gotten to Mason. He looked down at you as you pulled him in, squeezing you tightly before letting you go again.

"Did you guys enjoy it?" You asked, ushering them to the couch for them to sit down. You wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible, rushing over to your dressing room fridge and pulling out some drinks.

"It was amazing," Sasha gawked, still in awe over seeing you for the first time, "we saw you have one in Birmingham in a few weeks, so we're going to that one too." You blushed, returning to your seat opposite the couch.

"That's so sweet! I'm sure I can get you some good tickets, I'll dm you on Instagram or something." You suggested to her, Sasha eagerly nodding her head. You conversed with the group of five, Mason giving you a particular look that you had mirrored back to him. You planned on getting his number, and making sure he showed you around London.

Soon enough, the group was heading back to wherever they were staying, as it was beginning to get quite late. "Thank you guys for coming, and I'm so glad I met you."

Mason stayed behind, folding his arms and sharing a smirk with you as his friends voices trailed down the hallway. "So, about this bet."

"Yeah," you replied casually, grabbing your water bottle from the table and taking a sip, being in the presence of an attractive man again was giving you quite the nerves, "I'll take your number, because I'd love to get to know London." He nodded, grabbing his phone from his jacket pocket and handing it to you.

"Perfect. See you."

You and Mason had planned your first meeting in a pub. It wasn't the classiest of places, but your plan was to get to know the UK. Mason had ordered you both a drink, guessing what you like and nailing it when you went in for a second sip and shoved a thumb up.

"So," he began, fiddling with the coaster his beer sat on, "how long are you in London for?"

"Just until Thursday, Friday morning I'm heading to Manchester." You stated, realising you only had four days with Mason, including today.

"Well, we better make the days count then." Mason declared. The pair of you spoke about his career as well as yours, talking about how different school was for the pair of you. Mason had stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, and you'd accepted it without complaint. He led you out of the pub and through the town center, gazing at the stalls set up around you. The weather wasn't so different to New York, both constantly dreary, but you were liking London so far.

On your second day together, you'd taken a cab to another town, this time to just experience the busy streets. To Mason, this was normal. For you, it was only familiar. New York was one of the busiest cities in the world, but London was different, better in every other way. You'd finished your day together, stomachs full of pub food, and in the back of a cab, rain pattering on the windows. You'd shuffled closer to Mason, placing your hand on his and squeezing. He looked at you briefly, smiling his usual smile, before quickly looking out at the street in an effort to hide his tinged cheeks.

Day three, the weather was too bad to do anything. But Mason kept you company in your hotel room. He'd taught you a bunch of British slang, laughing as your accent completely butchered them all. You'd shown him a snippet of your new song before room service had arrived. And the night ended with the pair of you collapsed in your bed, tv playing in the back ground, but your eyes on each other. It was like pure magic, the long-awaited feeling of his lips on yours. You'd been thinking about it all day, missing every opportunity until now.

Your final day was the worst. You both knew it was coming, you wouldn't see him until you had a break, and he had one too. You both had stupidly busy schedules, as well as living in different countries. Maybe one day you could bring him to New York, show him your side of life. And maybe one day you'll branch out and move here.

Mason had helped you carry your things out of your hotel room, which was taking you to Manchester. Your manager had texted you to be in the car before 3, which meant you had just 10 minutes until you had to say goodbye to Mason for a while.

You were stood in the foyer of the hotel, waiting for the car to arrive. You'd secretly hoped it didn't, you wanted to stay with Mason for a while longer, but you couldn't. Duty called.

"Thank you for showing me around London," you spoke, looking up at Mason, who was hiding his deflated feelings, "I really enjoyed it, I might even prefer it to New York."

"That's a given. I'm here." He joked, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. These four days had been immense fun for him, different to how he usually spent his days. Different than night at home alone, different than a night on the town. Was it too soon to say he missed you?

Mason looked down at you as you clung to his side, hoping he felt the same way you did. And he did, you just didn’t know that. His fingers slid across your jaw slowly, pulling your chin up to look at him. It was an intense moment, so many different emotions. He’d leaned in and kissed you, it was his parting gift. To say that he’d see you soon enough.

“Enjoy Manchester, I’m sure I can fit another show in somehow.” Mason spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You spoke, the car pulling up outside. He’d dragged your suitcases out to the car, popping them in the boot for you. Finally, he stared at you through the window, which you quickly rolled down. “I fancy you, is that the right term?”

Mason laughed, head tipping back slightly. “Yeah, it is. And I fancy you too.”

#mase #money mase #mason mount one shot #mason mount request #mason mount x reader #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount

[uglypastels]

Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent. 

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course). 

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall. 

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots? 

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake. 

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms. 

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way. 

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them. 

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again? 

T- something starting with a T. 

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside. 

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving. 

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water. 

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast. 

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy. 

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.” 

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was. 

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement. 

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures. 

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party. 

So he was a frat boy. 

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better. 

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop. 

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger. 

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile. 

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression. 

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned. 

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case. 

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges. 

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class. 

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls. 

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least. 

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night. 

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover. 

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time. 

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame. 

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning. 

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name. 

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it. 

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed. 

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it. 

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there. 

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side. 

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued. 

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear. 

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger. 

Crumbling… 

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned. 

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her. 

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her.  She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture. 

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack. 

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture. 

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider. 

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door. 

Tom sank back down into his seat. 

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up. 

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.” 

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.” 

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room. 

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it. 

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class. 

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then. 

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over. 

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said. 

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n. 

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group. 

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison. 

“So, Holland, you’re in?” 

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time. 

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself. 

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone. 

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger. 

“Angela Pikowski.” 

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit? 

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone. 

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread. 

It did not matter. 

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.  

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was. 

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway. 

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light. 

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her. 

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater. 

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets. 

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? 

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough. 

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it. 

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness. 

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing. 

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much. 

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game. 

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life. 

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway. 

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place. 

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year. 

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa. 

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa. 

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. 

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party. 

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind. 

Property of: y/f/n 

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts. 

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account. 

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos. 

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows. 

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. 

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it. 

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you. 

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom! 

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep. 

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures. 

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed. 

He scrolled down. 

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds 

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played. 

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people. 

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies. 

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking. 

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed. 

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink. 

He accidentally liked her oldest picture. 

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable. 

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep. 

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours. 

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram? 

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h 

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it. 

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony. 

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that? 

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account. 

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course. 

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious. 

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies. 

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past. 

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite. 

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good. 

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture. 

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period. 

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on. 

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground. 

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak. 

What’s done was done. 

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired. 

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet? 

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation! 

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet. 

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in.  For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day. 

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments.  He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji. 

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n 

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple- 

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi 

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him? 

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.   

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply. 

(y/n)

Hey :) 

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing. 

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol 

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. 

(y/n) 

No not really 

Quickly change the subject. 

So what are you up to? 

Good enough subject? 

(tomholland2013) 

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night. 

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class. 

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n) 

Tess? 

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup?  It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again. 

Wanna see? 

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee. 

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that. 

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on. 

Of course, it was a dog. 

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything. 

(y/n) 

Omg 💀 

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered  What?  Did you think I meant something else? 

Embarrassment kicked in anyway. 

(y/n) 

No... lol 

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n) 

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013) 

Cause she gets to be here with me? 

(y/n)

No I meant it like  She’s so cute  I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax  I was just messing with you  But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n) 

Maybe another time 

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013) 

What’s on the menu? 

(y/n) 

Probably spicy ramen? 

(tomholland2013) 

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself? 

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway. 

(y/n) 

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw 

(tomholland2013) 

You make it sound like i am personally responsible 

(y/n) 

Well your the only guy from DK i know so  you’re**  💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree 

(tomholland2013) 

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

 _________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop? 

He started to type again. 

(tomholland2013) 

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over. 

(y/n) 

I’m good thanks. 

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes. 

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment. 

(y/n) 

Maybe another time  ttyl? 

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer. 

(tomholland2013)

 Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day. 

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-” 

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door. 

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either. 

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?” 

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order. 

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball. 

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed. 

 _________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.  

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in. 

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen. 

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking. 

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.” 

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.” 

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do. 

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement. 

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up. 

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself. 

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer. 

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.” 

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder. 

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.” 

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.” 

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it. 

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes. 

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no. 

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.” 

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly. 

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________ 

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he? 

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone. 

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again. 

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder. 

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks. 

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave. 

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you. 

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse. 

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she? 

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid. 

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her. 

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant. 

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow? 

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once. 

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend? 

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out. 

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily. 

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture. 

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :) 

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut. 

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later? 

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages. 

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it. 

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished. 

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class. 

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her. 

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face. 

“Hey,” you replied. 

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft. 

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.” 

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head. 

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully. 

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?” 

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to. 

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips. 

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-” 

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.” 

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course. 

 _________________________________

“Who was that?” 

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had. 

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend. 

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.” 

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter. 

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.” 

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in. 

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-” 

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed. 

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.” 

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?” 

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked. 

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said. 

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well. 

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.” 

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way. 

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors. 

 _________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself. 

(your account) 

Hey  Sorry I ran away like that  And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally  Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this 

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that.  Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account) 

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then 

 _________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight 

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple, 

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it. 

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to. 

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him. 

Was y/n scared? Of what? 

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass? 

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it. 

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered. 

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line. 

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it. 

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body. 

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed. 

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter. 

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination. 

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname. 

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite. 

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54. 

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.” 

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room. 

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable. 

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?” 

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.” 

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?” 

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly. 

 _________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?” 

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked. 

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed. 

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for! 

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu. 

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly. 

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language). 

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand. 

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that. 

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you. 

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said. 

“With cinnamon!” you added. 

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off. 

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged. 

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale. 

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.” 

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”  

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed. 

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?” 

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you. 

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-” 

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom. 

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks. 

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick. 

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable? 

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied. 

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.” 

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed. 

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.” 

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.” 

You both laughed. 

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay. 

How you hoped it was. 

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open. 

“Wait, really?” 

 _________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head. 

No, it wasn’t possible. 

“How has no one- nooo,” 

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them. 

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate. 

“So, you’d want to kiss me?” 

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face. 

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them. 

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly. 

“In your dreams, Holland.” 

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour. 

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well. 

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for. 

“You already did.” 

 _________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing. 

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.” 

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second. 

“At least… top ten.” 

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.” 

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion. 

“That just moved you down to number six.” 

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times. 

Finally, you sat up again. 

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now. 

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed. 

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile. 

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?” 

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather. 

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.” 

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle. 

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge. 

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted. 

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand. 

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.” 

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you. 

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again. 

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything. 

“If you wanted to kiss me.” 

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real. 

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right. 

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze. 

Tom chuckled. 

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.” 

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss. 

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer. 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96  @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown  @spiderrrling​ @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz​ @madzleigh01​ @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey​ @quaksonhehe​ @mountainsforwords​ @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex​ @ethereal-beauty-p​ @slytherin-chaser​ @worldoftom​ @moonysoftt​ @peeterparkr​ @wazzupmrstark​ @saintlavrents​ @peachybloomss​ @blissfulparker​ @chloecreatesfictions-archive​  @fallinfortom​ @bitchydecisions​ @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog​ @musicalkeys​ @joyleenl​ @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014​ @marvelouspeterparker​

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #frat!au #fratboy tom #college!tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #stranger to lovers #college!au

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KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

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

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

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

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

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

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

“Invisible side?” 

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

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

“They?”

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

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be my guest.”

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

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

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

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

“I want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “You could say so.”

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

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

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

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

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

“I did.” You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

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

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

“You mean getting a degree?” 

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

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

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

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t think we would.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

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

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

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

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

“Do tell.”

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

“Like?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s perfect, yes.”

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

“See you.”

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

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

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

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s gonna kill me.”

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

“I guess.”

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

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

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

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

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

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

“No, you’re not.” 

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

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A couple.”

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

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

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

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

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

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

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

“Is it like the original, though?” 

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

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

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

“Sounds like a plan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naughty.”

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

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

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

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

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

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

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

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #80s!harry #harry styles writing

[thinwhitewritings]

A Shot and A Story - Ashton

Summary: Based off of that one video of Ashton bringing a fan on stage to take a shot with her for her birthday - can’t stop thinking of it and I need it. 

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk endeavors, lots of touching, crowds, mini makeout sesh

Rating: 18+ (no smut, a lil kiss kiss and some adult stuff but not smut)

This is unedited because I’m impatient. Enjoy!

You’d been dying to go to a concert for your birthday. Especially your twenty-first. A drink in your hand with music and friends - how could it be better? So, your friends all pitched in to get you guys floor seats to a 5 Seconds of Summer concert. You had all seen them live on your own but this would be the first time you went as a group, and it was beyond exciting, especially since they just so happened to have a show on your birthday. 

The only drawback had been it wasn’t in your hometown. You had to take a small trip to get to the city where they were performing, and somehow your parents had booked a hotel for the four of you who were going, a birthday gift they’d called it. You were surprised either way. The group checked into the hotel, which was just down the street from the venue, a few bars littered along the street - which you would hit at some point. If that was before or after the show, you didn’t care. You were here with your favorite people and going to see your favorite band for the first time in a very long time - and got to get drunk all the while. 

Your friends had brought goodies along, including a sash, mini shots to sneak into the venue, and a sign that said ‘She’s 21 today, get her drunk!’ They claimed it was for the bars, but one of them decided to sneak it with you to the show. You’d gone to dinner and gotten plenty of attention in the form of a free drink from a guy across from your table, and a free dessert from the restaurant. You felt on top of the world, and the night was just getting started. 

You made it to the show with ease, using the opening act to get drinks from a bar in the arena, coming back to your spot just as the lights came down. Screams erupt from the crowds around you, and you felt the excitement from your chest to your toes. The band came onstage with energy, opening up the show with enough motion and lights to blind an entire highway of cars. Song by song passed, your friends making sure you continuously had a drink in your hand. About halfway through the first half of the show, your friend broke out that magical sign, holding it above all of you as you sang along and bounced and screamed. They’d just wrapped up Empty Wallets when Luke speaks up. “Hey, wait, wait - who’s birthday is it?” He asks, pulling an in-ear out and coming to the edge of the stage, pointing in your groups direction. Before you can get a word out, they begin shoving you forward, Luke laughing as they beg for him to get you a drink. 

“Who told you there was alcohol up here?” Ashton remarks, now moving out from his drum set holding up a red solo cup. 

“Ash, you’re very clearly holding an unmarked beverage. In a solo cup of shittin’ things.” Michael laughs. 

You’re trying to pay attention, but a security guard has moved the barrier so that he can lead you to the stage ramp - and it hits you, holy shit this is actually happening. You’re thanking the buzz that’s in your veins for the lack of nerves you have once you’re on stage all of them greeting you with wide smiles and cheers. “Ok but really, to... no one’s surprise, there is alcohol up here.” Calum points to the bottle towards the back of the stage, Ashton quickly grabbing it as the others start asking you your name. One of them asks to double check that you are in fact 21 before pouring out alcohol in front of a whole ass arena. Once it’s in Luke’s hand, he’s moving to Michael’s side, leaning into him as they both assess the card. “Yep, that is definitely today.” Michael confirms. 

“And that is 21 years from today - we are clear for take off everyone.” You haven’t said more than five words but you just feel blissfully happy. A hand comes up to your back and you jump a little, not expecting it, but are greeted with Ashton at your side. He’s leaning into Calum’s mic for everyone to hear. “This might look like water, but I promise everyone that this is 100% tequila.” Screams come from the crowd as he hands over the plastic cup, raising it. You take it and match him, about to take the shot before he stops. Under the immense amount of sound and projected discussion from the other bandmates, Ashton leans to your ear, his free hand taking your wrist carefully and very lightly. “Wait, let’s link arms.” He pulls back with a look of ‘you wanna?’ and you give a wide grin and a nod of your head. With ease, your arms are intertwined and you are nearly chest to chest with the drummer. A few more cries leave the massive audience you have before they all give you a hug, a few birthday wishes before dismissing you off stage. 

Your friends are all shaking your arms and bouncing incessantly when you return asking how you felt, and generally freaking out. The only thing you could get out was “Please tell me you have that on video.”

. . . 

After the show, you decided to run over to one more bar before you headed in for the night, really wanting to make the night well rounded and capture all of the experiences you could. Getting to the bar you realize that it’s actually more of a club. And when you get in there, you almost immediately lose your friends. You’d managed so well up until now, but you figure that you’re better off trying to find them at the bar, since there was only one of them. 

So you navigate your way there, and flag down a bartender for a drink. As you finishing up your payment, you could’ve sworn you heard your name. You turn your head a few times, looking in the crowd for your friends’ faces - only to come up with one that wasn’t in your group. It’s Ashton, approaching with what seems like a crew member behind him, both of them with a glass of beer in their hand. “Hey! It’s the birthday girl!” He greets, swinging an arm open to offer another hug, which you happily take. You back up, holding your drink before leaning towards him, his head dipping to listen to you. “Where’s the other guys?” He gives a nod, a hand running through his hair. 

“They were kind of exhausted, and bailed on me. They’re holed up at our table. No fun if you ask me.” He taunts, giving you a smile which you return. He moves to introduce the guy behind him, to be met with a stranger. You can’t help but laugh as he exasperatedly turns back to you. “What the hell, do I smell or something? I showered before I came here.” He jokes and you can’t stop the smile on your face. 

“If it’s any consolation, my friends and I got split up the second we got here. So it’s kind of a miracle that you managed to have him around that long.” Ashton laughs at your words, and you find a hand on your back again as he leans in. 

“He probably went to our table. Do you wanna go check with me?” You give a nod once he’s asked, and he grins, hand unmoving from your back. He proceeds to guide you to the table he speaks of, a few more familiar faces which all light up at the sight of you. A few utterances of your name come through again, greeting you happily. 

You sit with the group, meeting Sierra and Crystal while you were there, finding yourself somehow completely comfortable with this group. Afterall, you practically grew up with these guys, even if you’d never met them until tonight. A few rounds go by, and you’re finally starting to think about calling it a night. You’re looking at your phone, seeing that your friends have all said to just meet at the hotel, as they’re not having any luck finding each other, let alone you. You try another text - seeing as this happened because you couldn’t get any messages through - and hope that if any of them go through it was that one. That you were safe and had plenty of stories to tell. You’d been chugging water after the third round, telling Ashton that you’d needed to head home tomorrow and wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be sick for the drive, which he then cut you off in response. He however, had still been drinking. So as you lean into him to speak, his arm wraps around you, staying planted as you speak. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask and he nods, the hand holding his drink points in the general direction. 

“Do you want me to walk you over there?” He questions, and you look at him, seeing his features in the very dim neon lights. His hand feels firm, but his thumb is slowly tracing an up and down line into your skin, and you’re trying your best to soak it in. This had to be a dream. The whole time you’d been at the table, his hand had jumped around, on the booth back just above your shoulders, on your thigh, pushing hair out of your eyes - any way he could linger on you he had. Which is why you let him escort you to the bathroom. 

The walk over was pretty uneventful, aside from Ashton spilling the rest of his drink due to someone elbowing his glass. He was annoyed by this, but didn’t let it show in his expressions. In the hallway of the restroom, it’s rather dark, give for the slight light shining through the cracks of the closed bathroom door. You’d turned to Ashton to tell him he could go back to the table, but he’d thrown his beer glass away, and was facing you fully. The hand that had been in yours, now slinks up to your waist, the other matching it. He can see you’re about to say something and leans to your ear to speak. “What is it beautiful?”

Suddenly, you don’t want him to go back to the table. When you see his face again, his forehead is nearly on yours, your breath hitching. “N-Nothing. I just...” You shake your head minutely, being careful not to move too much in the crowded space. Your eyes meet as music blasts around you, not letting you be able to think. His face suddenly is encased in light as the bathroom door swings open. His eyes shift to the door and he looks back to you. “Bathroom’s free.” He points out, and in the boldest move you’ve ever made, you grab his hand on your waist and pull him into the bathroom. 

Ashton shuts the door and locks it with a click, being quick to move back to where you had been positioned before, but this time, takes no time to cup your face and pull your lips to his. Your eyes shut as your own hands move to gently hold the bottom of his arms, as his tongue dips along your bottom lip. Hands move from your face to the back of your neck, your energies moving so simultaneously. You finally pull back from what seems like forever to someone banging on the door. The two of you had both looked to the door and you laugh. “Let me use the restroom, and then we can go back.” You offer, slowly pulling away to move to the stall, and Ashton’s head tilts, looking to your backside. 

“And by back, you mean my hotel room, right?”

So much for your parent’s hotel room ‘gift’.

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton x reader #5 seconds of summer x reader #ai.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Piano Man - Part Two - Lindsey Horan x Reader

Sequel to Piano Man 

“Coffee?” Lindsey questioned unnecessarily as she set a steaming cup in front of Y/N the next morning. 

Y/N contained her grimace, she hated coffee. It was bitter, always tasted burnt to her, and in now way appealed to her. She preferred to tea. But if the midfielder was going to make the effort to bring her coffee, she could drink coffee with breakfast.

 “Thank you, Lindsey, I appreciate it,” Y/N thanked her, forcing herself to take a sip, doing her best to keep her expression blank. She quickly took a bite of her eggs to replace the bitter taste in her mouth. 

“I like coffee too Horan!” Rose called out as the blonde sat down at the table next to Y/N. 

“When you become a piano savant, I’ll bring you coffee,” Lindsey threw back, hedging a glance to Y/N next to her, briefly catching what she thought looksd like a scowl on the younger woman’s face. 

“Would you accept dog connoisseur?” The brunette midfielder asked instead.

“Nope, it’s a pretty specific preference to earn you a coffee delivery,” she winked back at her friend, shifting to look at Y/N, this time seeing the look of disgust as she took a sip. The smile quickly dropped from Horans face, Y/N forced a small smile on her face and took another sip of coffee, “you don’t like coffee, do you?”

 “It’s fine,” Y/N made a point of taking another sip, keeping her eyes cast down as she set the cup back on the table. 

Lindsey reached out and placed a hand on her arm resting on the table. The blonde could feel the forearm muscle flex as Y/N tapped her index finger against the table, “you don’t need to finish it Y/N.” 

“No, I appreciate you bringing me coffee Lindsey,” Y/N repeated, lifting her hand to grab her cup again. 

Lindsey tightened her hand on Y/N’s arm, keeping it in place, “that doesn’t mean you need to finish it,” she reassured her gently.

 “Claimed!” Rose leaned across the table, taking the coffee cup for herself. 

Y/N glanced up to see Rose proudly sipping her new coffee and everyone else rolling their eyes at the brunette, she smiled to herself.

 Lindsey loosened her grip, but began to rub her thumb along Y/N’s arm. “What do you prefer instead of coffee?” She asked softly, like it would be a secret between just them. 

“I like tea instead,” Y/N whispered in return, angling her head to look at Lindsey who was watching her. Seeing Lindsey nod along, Y/N began to tap her fingers again, rolling a few of them on the tabletop. Lindsey soothes her thumb over the popping muscle in her forearm at the motion, the tapping slowly stopping. 

“Eww leaf water?” Sonnett crinkled her nose, reaching over and stealing the stolen coffee from Rose who just scowled and let it happen. Y/N blushed and bit her lip. She knew they were teasing her and were working to include her, it was a new feeling, being so readily accepted, being allowed to share her own opinion without being told it was wrong. 

“Better than your jitter juice,” Y/N said softly, resuming tapping on finger on the table, Lindsey tapping her thumb in time to the flexing muscle.

 “Oh she’s got sass!” Rose laughed, attempting to reach and steal the stolen coffee back from Sonnett, only for the blonde to pull it away and out of her reach. The brunette huffed and leaned back in her chair. 

Y/N pulled her hand off the table, beginning to wring her hands together in her lap. Lindsey let her hand follow, resting it gently on the forearm, continuing to tap a thumb. Y/N gave Lindsey a small smile, the small comfort soothing some of her anxiety sitting with the friends. The midfielders smile grew when she saw the younger woman accepting her touch. 

Conversation flowed at the table, everyone encouraging Y/N to join the conversation who added her comments throughout. The tension left her shoulders the more the group spoke, gentle jabs thrown at each other, smiles all around. Lindsey’s hand never left Y/N, only shifting it slightly to rest on her thigh. 

The rest of the team noticed the dramatic shift in Y/N, she was still quiet and reserved, but she smiled more, attempted to initiate conversation with everyone, she all around seemed more at ease with the group.

 When Y/N slipped out of her hotel room that night, Emily walked out with her this time, all pretence of sneaking gone. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw Lindsey standing in the hallway, awkwardly shuffling her feet on the carpet. Lindsey bit her lip, nerves oozing out of her, Y/N had opened up to the group and let them see her play, but she was worried this was overstepping.

“You coming to hang out with me and Beethoven Linessi?” Sonnett shoved Lindsey forward when she saw Y/N freeze and blush. 

“Uh, yea, if that’s alright,” Horan tentatively replied, glancing at the blushing woman. Y/N clasped her hands together and nodded with a small smile. 

Lindsey’s grin grew and she took confident steps forward to walk alongside the pair. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence and all gently sat on the piano bench, Y/N in the middle. Y/N began playing a simple melody, the other two women watching her nimble fingers glide across the keys. 

“Why did you choose soccer and not piano?” Emily asked as Y/N played the last note. 

Y/N’s fingers froze on the keys before she began another song, “I love piano, outside of soccer, it’s the only place I feel completely relaxed. The only place where my thoughts aren’t racing, and my mind feels like it shuts off. But I despised it so much when I was younger, it took me a long time to embrace it as a good thing,” she began playing again.

Both women nodded along, letting her play with no one saying anything.

“Then when I embraced piano, it still felt like it was too much like conforming to what my parents wanted since it was something they had pushed on me. And I wanted it to continue to be something I kept for myself,” Y/N smoothly transitioned between songs without stopping, Horan and Sonnett not saying anything, it was clear this wasn’t something simple to speak about. “I didn’t even tell my parents I was going to England to play soccer, I told them I was going for an internship at the hospital. I was too much of a coward to say it to their faces,” her fingers hesitated while her voice softened and she bit her lip. 

“You did what you needed do for yourself for the first time,” Lindsey rested a hand on her thigh again while Sonnett began to rub a hand up and down her back.  

“I know that now,” Y/N nodded and continued to play, “I’ve had a hard time accepting it, and I’m slowly getting there, I guess.” 

“There’s no time line you need to follow; you get to make mistakes, you get to learn from your experiences, you get to be you,” Horan tightened her hand on the last word, trying to really drive her words in. 

“She’s right kid, there’s nothing wrong with taking your time to figure it all out,” Sonnett added. 

Y/N glanced back and forth between the two women on either side of her. She didn’t make mistakes, that wasn’t an option. Anything she did had to be right the first time, mediocracy wasn’t allowed.  

“I can’t, uhh,” Y/N’s hands stilled on the keys while she tried to gather her words, “thank you,” she said with a firm nod when she couldn’t think of anything more eloquently to say. “I really can’t thank you enough. No one has ever made the effort to try actually get to know me. I’m pretty introverted, so I come off as arrogant or rude. But I’m not, I just struggle to fit in or know what to say.” Y/N bit her lip, pausing to think about what else to say, if there was anything else she should say.

Horan and Sonnett had already put in so much effort to learn about her, had given her the opportunity to explain her past, they had reassured her with both their actions and words that she could be herself here. 

“Hey! You started the concert without us!” Rose called as the rest of the group joined them in the ballroom. They all came over and leaned against the side piano, Kelley stopped and gave her shoulders a squeeze and dipping a wet finger in Sonnetts ear before laughing and skipping away as Sonnett tried to swat at her. 

Y/N felt the heat on the back of her neck, but it didn’t drift to her cheeks or ears this time. She felt like she belonged with this group, they put her at ease, the teasing was never directed at her, but they included her and encouraged her to participate. The easy comradery amongst them made her want to be more open with them, want to participate in the gentle teasing.

“Alright, Mozart, let’s hear it,” Ash prompted, tapping a key as she walked around. 

Y/N began playing another soft song, everyone quickly quieting and listening to the music. 

“Kel, Y/N went to Stanford too,” Sonnett tried to continue to encourage the group to get to know the younger soccer player. 

“I know!” Kelley lit up, “I followed you guys your last two seasons, back-to-back championships, both undefeated seasons, lowest goals against in NCAA history for men’s or women’s.” 

Now Y/N did feel the blush spread immediately to her ears at the significant praise. 

“Fan girl much Kel?” Ashlyn laughed, everyone else staring at the defender. 

“She’s a defender who broke Stanford’s scoring record! That doesn’t happen!” Kelley defended, motioning her hands to the blushing pianist. 

Y/N brought her hands to her lap, heat now spreading to her chest. Lindsey kept a hand on Y/N’s thigh but leaned away, mouth agape, eyes wide in shock.

Everyone else sharing similar expressions, all amazed at the new information. 

“You did that, and you were pre-med?” Ali asked the blushing defender, the first to recover from hearing how skilled she really was. 

“Uh yea,” Y/N stiffly nodded, taping a few random keys on the piano in front of her, “I graduated suma cum lade.” 

“What? That’s unreal!” Kelley exclaimed, “what was your average?”

“4.0,” she glanced at the defender, at the eye roll she followed up, “99%” she mumbled. 

“She looks so real,” Rose whispered while she leaned forward and poked Y/N’s cheek. 

Lindsey swatted the midfielders hand away for Y/N, “dude you’re like a genius.” Kelley just continued to stare at her, mouth wide open. 

“I guess,” Y/N mumbled, continuing to tap the keys, it slowly turning into a melody, “they, my parents, didn’t approve of me playing soccer, so I needed to make sure I didn’t do anything to cause them to stop me playing.”

“So you broke several different soccer records, all while having an unreal average, in an incredibly hard major, at one of the top schools in the country?” Lindsey listed. 

Y/N shrugged and continued to play, “mediocracy wasn’t an option for me.” Everyone continued to stare at her. 

“Can I be you when I grow up?” Rose stared at her with wide eyes.

“You are so hot,” Lindsey said under her breath, or so she thought, all eyes whipping to her instead. Horan now fidgeted with her fingers, her blush matching Y/N’s. Lindsey had undoubtedly been attracted to the younger woman before, but now her attraction grew tenfold, she wanted to know more about this incredible person. 

“How did you end up playing for Arsenal then?” Sonnett shifted the focus back with a smirk, she knew her best friend would figure it out on her own. 

“They offered me a contract, I knew med school wasn’t what I wanted to do, or at least not yet. It sounds immature and trite, but the more life experience I got, the more I had the urge to do the opposite of what my parents wanted. I didn’t declare for the draft here to keep it a secret but fielded a few from overseas.”

“You are incredible Y/N,” everyone was astounded listening to her story and accomplishments, “one more song and let’s get you to bed kiddo.”

Everyone separated and made their way to their rooms, each pausing to give Y/N a quick hug. 

Lindsey trailed behind Emily and Y/N. Y/N was quiet again, unaware of the look Emily kept giving her best friend, trying to encourage her to speak more to the other defender. 

Talk to her Sonnett mouthed over Y/N’s shoulder, slipping behind the hotel door again, blocking Y/N from entering again. 

Y/N turned back to Lindsey; eyebrows creased in confusion at being locked out of her room again. “Did I say something wrong?” Y/N pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. 

“No, that’s because of me,” Lindsey tried not to roll her eyes, but bit her lip as her nerves started to set in. 

“Because of you?” Y/N tilted her head to the side, Horan smiled at the innocent puppy like expression on her face. 

“Yea, me,” Lindsey started more confidently, “Sonny is being an annoyingly good friend and making me talk to you alone.” 

“Did I do something wrong Lindsey?” Y/N was growing nervous now. 

“No, god no. I, um, just wanted to,” her nerves were returning, she had hoped Y/N would be more aware of where this conversation was going to go, “We have the afternoon off tomorrow, would you like get lunch with me?” 

“Yea of course, should we invite the others? I’ve told you guys so much, I want to know more about you guys too.”  

“Umm, we could invite them if you want, but, uhh, I was kind of hoping it could be just the two of us,” Lindsey rubbed her hand on the back of her neck, “like, um, well like a date.” 

Y/N stood up straighter, eyebrows shooting up, “you want to go out with me?” 

Horan nodded more confidently now, “of course I want to go out with you Y/N.” 

“You want to go out with me?” she repeated, pointing at her own chest. 

Lindsey chuckled and stepped into Y/N’s space, tugging the hand down and holding onto it while reaching for the other, soothingly running her thumbs along the knuckles.  “Yes, I want to go out with you Y/N,” she tugged the smaller woman into a hug, holding her tight, “you can so no, I would never force you do anything you don’t want, but I would really like the chance to take you on a date.” Lindsey pulled away with a gentle kiss to the cheek, like she had the night before. 

“I would, uhh, really like that too Lindsey,” she blushed looking at their still connected hands, “to, go on a date with you,” she glanced up, the pair sharing a soft smile. 

At the click of a door, they both looked to see Sonnett standing there giving them a thumbs up.

“Adorable,” Emily pointed to Lindsey, “I expect to be the maid of honour.” 

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #lindsey horan x reader #lindsey horan imagines #lindsey horan imagine

[monsterfuneral]

just peachy | the lost boys

Relationship: Poly!The Lost Boys x Gender Neutral!Reader

Request:  Can I send in a request because your writing is *chef's kiss*? I'm just having a rough day and I'm tired of having a stupid accent. I'm from Georgia and my friends always tease me about saying certain words. Could you maybe write something about the boys' so is tired of them teasing her but she doesn't say anything because she doesn't want to seem weak or something. But she starts teaching herself how to talk "correctly" and then the boys realize her accent is basically gone and then try to make her feel better? 💛

Words: 2.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, changing yourself in order to satisfy your partner(s), insecurity, *Bo Burnham voice* prolonged eye contact, and some sexual tension for absolutely no reason

Author’s Note: Ah finally, someone else in this fandom that also lives in this hell state (I’m assuming you mean the USA Georgia). As someone who literally did this as a child, thus resulting in me not having an accent anymore unless I jokingly put one on, I felt like this request so hard. 

I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time right now dude, and I’m sorry it took me this long to write out but I wanted to make it as good as possible for you <3

Also thank you so much for the compliment on my writing that truly means so much.

Anywho I’ll shut up now, I hope this turned out okay and you enjoy the story! 

REQUESTS OPEN

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

You moved to Santa Carla at the beginning of spring, focusing on better job opportunities and using it as an excuse to explore a new place away from the south. Living in Georgia could be tiring, seeing the same thing over and over again, looking at the same buildings, driving through the same towns. Sure it was where you grew up, but it was slowly feeling less like a home. So the second you saw the opportunity to leave and live somewhere else, you took it. There were things to do, people to meet, interesting jobs that actually appealed to you. 

It was nearing winter now. Sure you missed the yellowing leaves and crisp fall air that could hang around until noon. That was a sacrifice you were willing to make though, if it meant you could continue to work on the boardwalk right next to the beach. Where it was lively and something new was happening every night, keeping you interested. 

You leaned over the railing, looking out at the sparkling water and over to the live concert that had packed the beach for the night. Your shift at the boardwalk’s thrift store had just ended, giving you time to catch the last song that the opening band was playing. 

Arms encircled around your waist, making you snap out of your music induced daze. “Hey there sweet thing.” Paul muttered against the shell of your ear before nuzzling his nose against your neck. 

The rest of the boys slowly joined, caging both you and Paul in as they looked down at the beach to the show that was still going on. David leaned his back against the railing and looked at you, winking with a cigarette burning between his lips where one corner of his lips turned upwards in a smirk. You gave him a sweet smile, pulling Paul’s arms tighter around your waist. 

“Y’all are a little late tonight.” You mused, looking at Marko who leaned forward against the railing with his arms. Paul squeezed you a little tighter with a soft chuckle brushing against your ear. The boys all had a smile on their lips when they heard you talk.

You had met the boys not even a week after you had touched down in the bustling city. The four bikers, clad in leather with cocky attitudes radiating off of them staring you down. They could probably tell you were new in town, seeing how your doe eyes would stare at the boardwalk attractions in amazement. After all, the only times you had actually been any amusement parks in Georgia was when they’d open up seasonally. Even then it was rare since at the time you had a busy job to keep up with and sometimes it would get too humid to bother going anyway. Your innocent curiosity of a new location drew them in, putting up a front that they could show you around some time. After all, it was uncommon for a southerner to grace Santa Carla with their presence, so color them curious. 

The boys had always assumed that people from the south tended to keep to themselves in their small towns, going to church, and gripping their racial biases tight. Plus, it had also been well over four decades since they’d been to the south, their last visit being less than stellar. So when they first met you they were weary, not knowing exactly what was in store and what direction the conversation was going to go, and if you would end up being food by the end of the night. 

Luckily for all of you the conversation had actually gone very well, and the thrift store slowly started to become a spot they would drop by more frequently. They found you adorable, the accent and the way you talked, it was all just so different from what they were used to. Not long into knowing you, they started inviting you out with them, wanting to actually get to know you past where you were from and where you worked. From there your relationship blossomed into what it was now. 

“Had to get a little snack before dropping by.” Marko smirked, poking Paul’s bicep “Someone had the stomach rumbles bad.” 

“Ugh stop.” Paul groaned “I was hungry.”

“Well maybe you should have eaten more last night.” Dwayne chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder with Paul’s teasingly. 

“I tried!” Paul argued “Michael was being a total blood hog!” All the boys collectively sent a silencing ‘shut up’ glare to the rowdy blonde. 

You chuckled softly “Well next time you just gotta butt his ass out of the way.” 

It was a whole two months into knowing the boys before their little fanged secret was revealed. Granted it was by accident but whatever. 

It had been getting close to nightfall by the time you walked into the cave unannounced, planning on surprising them. But they were nowhere to be found so you decided to wait it out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through an old comic from Marko’s stash. When the sun had finally dropped behind the water, the boys all came flying out of a hole at the top of the cave flying in circles around the ceiling whooping and hollering, playfully chasing each other before hearing you gasp. 

The conversation you all had after that lasted all night. David tried insisting that you had to turn now that you knew, while Dwayne and Marko protested, knowing that they no longer had to enforce that rule with Max being dead. Either way, six months later and it was safe to say you knew pretty much everything when it came to their lives as vampires. 

From then on things had been pretty smooth sailing. 

Well until recently. 

Of course you knew the boys weren’t perfect, they did in fact kill people for food, so you weren’t exactly expecting to have boyfriend’s sent down from god himself. But by being with them it made you notice some things about yourself that you never really did before. Sure you knew they probably meant well, but picking at the way you said things made you feel a little insecure, in fact you were growing to dislike your accent because of it. And as a result you started to change your speech and the way you talked. The lingering thought of ‘maybe they’ll be happier like this’ in the back of your head just kept chewing away, and as a way to not come off as weak, you remained silent about the problem you had with their teasing. 

If they noticed they never said anything. Not commenting on the way your speech smoothed out into something you assumed they would find more tolerable. At first you had done it just as an experiment to see if you could even do it without them noticing. Which, to you, had seemed to be the case. 

Seemed to be.

Little did you know they were a lot more observant than you gave them credit for. Especially David. He had been the first to notice how you were using some words less and less, you had seemed closed off from them in general. The other boys slowly started to realize it too, noticing the almost subtle way your accent seemed to just go away after months of them hearing it. It was confusing to say the least. 

Some of them- mainly Paul- had chalked it up to being around them for so long, but they knew that wasn’t the case. If it were, Dwayne’s own accent would have been long gone by now. 

“Is something wrong?” David chimed out of nowhere, blowing smoke towards the stars. All eyes turned to him and you furrowed your brows in, confused. “You’re suppressing your accent. Why?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up, not having expected this conversation so soon “Um… I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You tried playing dumb, hoping he would just drop the subject. But this was David and you knew that was very unlikely. 

He let out a deep chuckle before sliding himself in front of you, blocking out your view of the show on the beach, and trapping you between himself and Paul. He lifted your chin with his thumb and index finger, the leather of his glove brushing against your bottom lip softly, keeping your head in place so he could look into your eyes. You felt like he was staring into your soul, reading you, attempting to pry the secrets from your brain.

“Don’t lie sweetheart.” He tilted his head, challenging you to argue back “I’ve been around for a long, long time. It’s not hard to notice a change as simple as an accent. Especially when it comes to our mate.” 

Mate. This was the first time you heard him actually use the word himself. It made your heart pick up pace in your chest, and you were sure they could all hear it. He brought himself closer, not exactly caring about the public’s prying eyes at your current predicament. He cupped your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, your noses brushing against each other before he teasingly kissed the corner of your mouth. He was toying with you, making you drop your guard.

“Answer the question baby.” Paul whispered against the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Marko and Dwayne were both leaning on the railing on either side of the three of you, looking out at the ocean as if this wasn’t even happening. Well, with the occasional side eye in your direction.

David pulled away, and you subconsciously chased after him, seeking more contact. You let out a quiet whine, glaring at him as he took yet another drag from his cigarette. 

“Well?” 

“Fuck- Okay fine.” You mutter in defeat, no longer seeing a use in trying to fight them when they already suspected the truth. “I didn’t want to say anythin’, I mean it’s really not anything to get worked up over. It’s just that I’m tired of being teased for how I say stuff.” The accent slowly melded into your words, slight slip ups that had been harder to tame with the little time you’ve been training yourself to speak more ‘correctly’. “So uh- I thought I’d try and talk a little more normally.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dwayne asked, his attention now fully on you. 

You shrugged, slightly embarrassed “I don’t know. I mean it wasn’t your problem, and I thought it might be a little less annoying to hear me talk, y’know like-” 

“Like Paul?” Marko interrupted, receiving a punch in the shoulder from the wild haired blonde. 

Paul shook his head softly like a disappointed parent “No cool man.” 

A laugh left your lips, glad that they were being at least a little light hearted about it. “No. I guess I just kinda assumed you guys didn’t like it. So I just thought- well you know.” 

The conversation went silent, all of them staring at you before looking at each other. Dwayne was the first to crack from his stony expression and smile at you, his cool hand coming to smooth over your warm cheek. He caressed your skin gently with his thumb, silently admiring you for a second. 

“All you had to do was talk to us. I could’ve told Paul and Marko to shut the hell up for you.” He joked, making you smile with him before laughing. “You don’t have to change yourself to please us. That’s not something we expect from you.” 

Paul let go of you, spinning you around and catching you before you tripped over your own feet. “Yeah! You could have totally said something! You’re not gonna hurt our feelings or anything babe.” He brought you to his chest, giving your cheek an overly wet kiss, trying his best to lighten your mood. David’s hand smoothed up from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, the cool leather welcome against the heat on your neck. He brought himself closer, trapping you against himself and Paul once again, if not bringing himself closer this time. 

Marko smirked at the way your eyes clouded over slightly, “Yeah I mean… If anything I think it’s kinda hot.” He said, tracing the lapel of the leather jacket you wore, twirling the dark purple squid lures he had gifted you around his index finger. His eyes were lidded when he looked at you, a cocky smirk on his lips. 

You wanted so badly to tell him to fuck off, but oddly enough the reassurance did help. Realizing that you in fact did not have to change in order to please them, and that’s not what they wanted from you was like a breath of fresh air. It lifted a weight from your shoulders and you were thankful for it, leaving you wishing you had said something sooner. You loved them, and while being in Santa Carla was a huge change in your life, you wouldn’t want to experience it with anyone else other than them.

#dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #marko #paul #david #dwayne #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys imagine #tlb imagine #tlb 1987 #poly tlb #tlb #monster writes

[dontdropthatthunthunthun]

Thoughts on Louis in Amsterdam

Here are some of my memories and pictures of the show in Amsterdam yesterday. Made this post for myself and to maybe help out other people that feel a bit anxious about going to the show like I did :). It got a bit longer than anticipated so I put everything behind the cut.

First of all I was going with my anti-Larry friend so it was a bit awkward when I got happy about all the pride flags and she was going 'he's not gay so why all the flags it doesn't make sense.' (Explained how he helped the lgbtq+ community and then she understood it a bit more).

We were able to buy merch before getting in line, they opened a small merch shop in the venue where you could get in without having to get into the line. So we didn't have to worry about that later.

We arrived around 17.15 and the line was absolutely insane. The security guard said he had never seen a line that long for any concert in Afas Live. (for the people that know where this venue is, when I arrived the line was going until the Ziggo Dome and started to go around the back of the Amsterdam Arena after us. That's a line over 550m.

It was very cold outside so that's mostly why we didn't arrive earlier, I respect everyone in front of the line freezing their asses off for sometimes over a day, at least they had the restaurant across blasting 1D to keep them warm.

Doors opened at 18.30, the line just moved peacefully. Everyone was just walking and not pushing, once we got at the entrance a security guard told us to walk slowly and not push and that all went well.

After we showed our tickets and were inside the venue we went to get a locker for our coats and got in line for the toilets before we entered the hall where we bought water and found a place to stand for the concert. Once we found our place it was around 19.30. We stood a bit at the side of the crowd but not too far back (we were just behind the second barrier).

I met up with @goldenxsunshine in line and @hulahoo-p found us in the crowd (unfortunately I forgot to take a picture with her :( )

Happy girls after the concert

I was afraid everyone was going to push once Only The Poets or Louis started, but no one did and I'm very glad about that. I had space to move and nobody was even touching me so it was great. I've had different experiences with this at a One Direction concert back in the days so I was very glad that everyone was just chill and enjoying their time.

Only The Poets were AMAZING. Really liked their vibe and music, they thanked Louis about 4 times. Louis gave them a shout out too.

After Only The Poets ended we still had about half an hour for the main show. We just stayed at our spot and danced to the pre show playlist. When the Smiley thing came down everyone started screaming and every time a song ended and everyone thought the show was starting we screamed as well (took about 5 songs before it actually started so it was pretty funny).

When Louis came on stage I died. He looked SO good even better than I remembered. He looked so comfortable on stage and I was sooooo proud. (my pictures aren't the best since I had to zoom in quite a bit but enjoy some pictures of Louis singing his little heart out)

Louis was very observing. He stopped the show twice, because people in the crowd were waving that something was wrong. I think the first time it was a false alarm, but the second time first aid people carried a girl out of the crowd. I love that he pays close attention to that. It made me feel extra safe.

His voice is amazing, anyone that ever said he wouldn't be able to do a solo tour can shut their mouths now, the boy can SING. Jesus Christ he was good.

He pointed at some signs and smiled at some. I think one of them was about lyrics because he forgot them (I don't remember what song) but he laughed at a girls sign.

His interaction with the crowd was amazing. Even when you were a bit further in the back you had the feeling he appreciated you and you felt seen (I did at least).

Princess Park was LOUD (I have a video of it somewhere, I'll probably post my videos later) holy shit we were all screaming our hearts out.

Everyone sang along to most of the songs but especially to Only The Brave. I think there were less pride flags than other shows but I still saw quite a lot of them.

I was planning on filming always you but by the time my brain registered what song it was the Amsterdam line was already sung😂 It was still really loud tho.

Overall the concert was really amazing, honestly one of the best concerts I've ever been too and the most chill and dedicated crowd I've ever been in. Great vibes, great songs, AMAZING artist. God I love Louis so much.

A tip to end this with: if you are still going to one of the concerts (or a concert from another artist) BRING EARPLUGS, the music is LOUD and your ears won't appreciate it. Trust me you can hear the concert perfectly well with earplugs in. I took them out for a few seconds but plugged them in again almost instantly because the sound will ruin your ears (and we ofc want to keep listening to Louis without any ear related problems:)).

#this post is way too long lol #had a GREAT night #I love Louis so fucking much #if you have any questions feel free to ask me

[majoraop]

It partially overlapped with the Corazon Week so I didn’t have much time to make something for the Heart Pirates Week, but I managed to write a short story inspired by several prompts at once ("strength", "longing", "soft", and "caged"). The prompts are mostly used in the song pictured above (written by Law’s reincarnation in my “A Tale of Two Dragons” soulmate AU), which I included in the fanfic. The story features the CoraLaw pairing, the core Heart Pirates crew (Shachi/Penguin/Bepo), and a one-sided LuLaw.

A Tale of Two Dragons – Moon Chapter “You could smile for once, you know?” Penguin told Law while elbowing a chuckling Shachi.   “Is he always like this?” Rocinante sat next to Law, smiling at the camera Luffy was holding.   “Yeah. He has always been like this.” Law sighed, already exhausted even if they had just departed for their Moon Tour—as Luffy had dubbed it.   “My…brother”—just a moment of hesitation, but Rocinante couldn’t avoid forever bringing Doffy up—“told me that all people inhabiting our world came from the moon. I wonder what we’ll find there!”   “I told you already,” Law said with a grin. “There are people with wings on the moon—like angels.”   “Really?” Bepo, the younger component of their band, was staring at Law with a gaping mouth.   “Really,” Law echoed him with a serious face. Penguin and Shachi tried to say something, but Law sent a glare in their direction and they closed their mouths. “They have fluffy wings and celestial voices,” he continued.   “Oh…” Bepo blushed. He was a timid boy with a soft spot for pretty singers—but a skilled drummer for his age.   “Law…you should stop now,” Rocinante reproached him playfully.   “But it’s real!” Luffy exclaimed. “I remember people with wings living in the old world!”   Everyone looked at him, wondering if he was joking. However, there was no trace of doubts or lies in Luffy’s eyes. Law actually believed in those stories too, but he still had fun teasing Bepo.   “I can’t wait to meet them!” the boy whispered, blushing even more, and everyone laughed. --- “Look, Law, we’re almost there!”   Luffy’s enthusiasm rubbed off on Law, too, when he looked out of the porthole of the flying ship they rented for their journey. The moon was so near now that he could distinguish a large city quite clearly. Sentient beings were living up there, and he wouldn’t be able to refuse Luffy his craved moon concert. Law groaned. His life had changed so fast he hadn’t been able to adapt yet. He hadn't even finished writing his new song!   “It looks beautiful,” Rocinante whispered, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I can’t believe we’re travelling together as we promised to do.”   “If only those troublemakers weren't around…”   “Oh no, it’s better like this!” Rocinante smiled. “Your friends are a nice, funny bunch, and I can help with your band. You know, I’ve learned some useful skills.”   Law stared at his confident grin. “What skills?” he asked, mildly worried. He hoped it didn’t involve setting things on fire—the speciality of Rocinante’s old self.   “I’m a dresser,” Rocinante said proudly. “Well, not really—not yet at least, but I studied costume design. I have a great fashion sense, you know?”   Law didn’t remember the old Roci and his Corazon alter ego having a great fashion sense at all—if anything else, it was the contrary.   “Leave it to me,” Rocinante said, puffing up his chest.   Law felt a shiver running down his spine as he hesitantly nodded at him. --- You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart On the second night after they arrived at their destination, Law was finally able to sit down and work on his song.   Penguin was playing his guitar in another room together with Shachi, the bassist of their band. Bepo and Luffy were keeping them company, and Law heard the latter singing. His cheerful voice put him in a good mood, which helped him resolve a difficult verse. He would have loved to spend some time alone with Rocinante, but he needed to finish writing his composition first. Besides, Roci was busy designing their stage costumes.   Law looked down at his laptop and deleted a sentence. He remained pensive for a moment. Then, he typed a new line. He hummed the refrain one last time and nodded, satisfied. He would sing this song alone, Luffy only joining him for the chorus. He needed to sing this song alone.   Law saved the file and closed the lid of his laptop. --- They still needed an agent so, after finishing working on his song, Law started searching for one.   Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin accompanied him while Roci kept working on their costumes. Luffy, too, decided to stay back: he hadn't had much time to learn Law's new song, and even if he would only sing the chorus he wanted to practise some more. Law wondered if Luffy understood how much that song was important for him and thus wanted to make a perfect performance. Sorry, he thought, knowing how Luffy felt about him.   “This place is huge!”   Penguin’s comment pulled Law out of his thoughts, and he surveyed his surroundings. That city was the main hub of the moon. The skyscrapers that soared against the starry night looked like buildings out of an ancient civilization, but they were made from glass and not blocks of stone. A giant bubble covered the city under a protective dome and shielded it from cosmic radiations, and at its outskirts, smaller bubbles encircled fields and farms. Factories were situated on the dark side of the moon and connected to the central hub by underground bullet train. During their stay there, Law had learned that water was scarce on the moon: there weren’t rivers, lakes, or seas, but people had been able to survive thanks to their advanced technology. Tiny humanoid robots took care of manual labour, so the citizens of the moon had plenty of free time. Unsurprisingly, upon learning that Law and his group were a rock band, they had immediately asked them to hold a concert.   “People of the moon do have wings, but they are small,” Bepo interrupted Law’s thoughts, sounding a bit disappointed. “They can't fly like that.”   “They don’t need wings to fly,” Shachi told him. “Can’t you see the floating vehicles above our heads?”   “It’s not the same.” Bepo pouted.   “But their wings are still fluffy at least,” Shachi insisted, clearly amused.   “Aye-Aye, they are fluffy.” Bepo nodded, smiling.   Law barely registered their silly conversation as he wondered how many marvellous things were waiting for him and Roci to discover. The thought of being able to experience all of that with him filled him with a happiness he had never felt before in his current of previous lives. --- Finding an agent turned out to be surprisingly easy. After talking with some local people, they met an extravagant man with sparkly, ambitious eyes—a foreigner probably, since he didn't have wings. Nevertheless, he had the right contacts, so they hired him.   The day of the concert arrived in no time, and now Law was staring, appalled, at the clothes and accessories displayed before him. “What. Are. These.” He managed to say after the first moment of shock.   “These? Your stage costume and accessories, of course!” Rocinante said with a big grin on his face.   Law glared at the black leather pants, the belt with a ridiculous-looking, heart-shaped buckle, the earrings, the rings, and the “shoes”. The shoes were the worst part: how was he supposed to sing and dance on those stilts?! Law put his hand to his face, sighing, and flung himself upon the armchair behind him.   “You’ll look great in them, Law!” Luffy exclaimed, looking at him like he usually looked at delicious meat—his favourite food.   Law felt a bit bad for him since he couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, but Luffy was a good person and had accepted Law's relationship with Roci without hesitation. Law sighed again and closed his eyes, massaging his temples with his thumbs.   “I love it!” Bepo cried next to him when Roci showed him his costume. Law glanced at it and was only able to distinguish a white fur-something.   “And these are for you,” Rocinante told Penguin and Shachi with a smiling face. Law straightened his back, ready to savour the horror on his friends’ faces, but they didn't react as he expected but just let out their breath in relief.   Law stood up to see their costumes closer and then frowned. “Why do their clothes look normal and they also have a shirt? Why can’t I wear a shirt too?!”   “It’s because you’re the star, my dear!” Rocinante beamed.   “But Luffy is the co-star, and yet he'll wear a shirt!” Law felt he was losing his sanity.   “It fits his look better,” Rocinante replied with a serious expression.   “…I give up.” Law threw his hands on the air and returned to his armchair. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he appeared in public shirtless...Oh. He had just remembered about that. So, there were still parts of his past pirate life that he had not recalled yet. Ok, let’s go all out then. “Roci, I need you to paint my chest,” he said, trying not to blush.   At that, even Rocinante looked surprised. “What do you mean?”   “I mean a fake tattoo—nothing too complex, just some black ink.”   “Oh, I remember that!” Luffy chimed in.   Just perfect. Law wanted to disappear, but it wasn’t like his heart-shaped tattoo had been a mystery in his past life. He had walked around showing it on his bare chest like war painting when—no, he needed to stop thinking about that. Doflamingo wasn’t an enemy anymore. Now, we’re all free from our past.   “I…can draw it if you show me the design you’ve in mind,” Roci told him.   “Follow me.” Law stood up. “Just you,” he added when he saw the others moving too. That symbol on his chest had been his source of strength during his turbulent, painful past. More importantly, it had been a memento of his Cora-san. Only Rocinante could hear about it. --- When Law stepped out of his dressing room, he was welcomed by Penguin and Shachi’s barely held laughter and Luffy’s loud cheering. Bepo, instead, just looked at him with a worried expression.   Law sighed and tried a few slow steps on his heels. Thankfully, he was able to walk normally.   “You look fantastic,” Rocinante whispered, his eyes lingering on Law’s painted chest.   Law blushed. There were no secrets left between them: he literally wore his heart on his skin—his feelings for that man for all to see.   Now, he was ready to step on stage and scream his love for him. The white sea of clouds below me is spotless, I recall colourless roofs and skin now spotted, I recall cries and tears, smoke and flames, I recall being saved and then encaged. I remember falling on a pile of trash, I remember silence—and when it crashed. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart The waves are rolling and splashing before me, I recall blue oceans and endless adventures, I recall allies, friends, and their laughter, I recall legends, myths, and old treasures. I remember searching for the truth of my name, I remember crowning the very King of Pirates. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart The boundless sea of stars is sparkling above me, I recall worlds below and above the mountains, I recall the promise I exchanged with you, I recall black feathers, comfy and soft. I remember longing for you in the night, I remember you smiling for the last time. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart… A child no more, I give your heart back. [SOULMATE]

#onepiece #one piece #opfanfic #opfanfiction #coralaw #law #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #corazon #rocinante #rosinante #donquixote rocinante #penguin #shachi #bepo #luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece au #majoraop #long post #(I try to avoid putting links in post since posts with links often don't appear in the tags/searches... ^^' ) #queued

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

Die and Toshiya member talk at SENDAI GIGS 13th March 2021 Bits III

 Notes from twitter user botdv_304

- Question: Have you ever had a hard time because of your height?

Toshiya: When I go to grandpa and grandma’s house in the countryside…. the entrance is low, so I might hit my head?....

Die: Sometimes at exclusive/high class shop, isn’t there a place where the entrance is really low? Don’t you hate that? (laughs)

----

-Talking about a festival that left an impression on them. In Germany?

Die: Many things being thrown. Like crushed cans or tiny soccer balls. The stage was full of stuff like that.

Toshiya: I got hit by a stone that someone threw.

Die: Then I realized, something that fell off…. A bra…..it was quite big.

Fujieda: Eh….did they take it off and throw it?  What happened when they got back home?

Die: They were bra-less? ----

Fujieda: Die, what do you do for haircare?  What do you use? Like shampoo and so…

Die: Are you (asking this) unreservedly?

Fujieda: Yes….it’s the thing you are careful about the most!

Die: Well, I use shampoo, then the conditioner, then things like hair mask and so….

Toshiya: That takes so long, so long…. ----

Fujieda: Toshiya, where is Kaoru now?

Toshiya:  *laughs* at home, at home…..*laughs*

 ----

Fujieda: Toshiya! Kaoru and Shinya said that JEALOUS' B-melody is difficult. Is there any difficult song for you?

Toshiya: I forgot

  -----

Fujieda: Today you are feeling “on” or “off”?

Die: Well,  On! If it weren’t “on”, it would be bad (laughs)

 -----

-How difficult was  to shoot at ROCKMAYKAN?

Toshiya: I don't think we had any particular difficulties ... I felt like I was going to the actual performance after rehearsing as usual. It feels like a virtual live with no audience, but it was nice to be able to play the five of us.

  ------

*Toshiya looks interested in a paper . It’s a psychological test.*

Toshiya: Test yourself. Which is the place that you don’t want to go the most? 1.Dark forest 2. Abandoned and decayed House. 3. Cemetery 4. Tunnel Die chose the tunnel. Toshiya and Takabayashi chose the forest and Fujieda the cemetery.  The one you chose reflects what a person is scared about the most.

Tunnel (Die): The future. They are worried they can’t see their future. Forest (Toshiya and Takabayashi): Loneliness. They need to have someone nearby. Cemetery (Fujieda):  They are not scared. If they can live happily, that’s fine.

Die: I can’t see what lies ahead….I’m scared! Takabayashi: Loneliness? Toshiya: Well, one person is scared… Fujieda: Me? Toshiya: If you can live happily, that’s fine (laughs) -----

About their drinks.

Fujieda: Toshiya, is that coffee?  Toshiya: That’s it?  Fujieda: Die is drinking carbonated water…  Toshiya: Do you have that information?

Fujieda: Toshiya, what are you drinking, is it always coffee?

Toshiya: No,  it’s not that….sometime it’s tea. Coffee or tea.

Fujieda: Do you prefer warm drinks?

Toshiya: Warm…..cold….

Die seems to like the sound of the bubbles of the carbonated drinks.

----   -About Oboro

Toshiya: I can't say much right now, but ... I think it's the core song of the album, so please look forward to it.

Die: It's not finished yet ... it's at the final stage. It’s overseas now ... I think that once is completed and finished it will come back. (He seems to be talking about the mastering stage, the master engineer seems to be a new person?)

 ---- -The OP doesn’t remember the question, but it was about the Shinkansen train.

Fujieda: Toshiya, did you miss the shinkansen this time?

Toshiya: (I took the train) at the last minute *laughs*

Fujieda: It was really at the last moment *laughs* Just about 1-minute left…

Die: Ah, I thought he wouldn’t come  to this…

Fujieda: You made eye contact with Die…..You were late last time, right?

Toshiya: I…..I've been waiting in Shinagawa for a long time….

Die: Doesn’t make sense (laughs)

  -----

-About next concert with audience.

Die: I'm happy to be able to play in front of everyone. I can't say “please come " in a loud voice, but when Corona is over, I want to make a live that makes me happy to experience.

Toshiya: In 2020….I was like “what’s going on?”….I was frustrated. But I can't get that time back, so I guess the right answer is to move forward. I would like to have a live performance that shows us trying to move forward.

  ----

Fujieda: Toshiya, among the members, are there any Ameotoko (rain man)? *Ameotoko (rain bringer man) refers  to an unlucky person that seems to be jinxed to have the rain follow them wherever they may go, thus gaining a reputation for ruining special events such as weddings or sporting events.*

Toshiya: That would be…..that person…

Fujieda: Who is that person?

Toshiya: I’m not telling *laughs*

 ---

 Fujieda: It’s still cold in Sendai

Toshiya: Weren’t you like an energetic kid yesterday?

 -----

-Die about meeting the members for the first time

Kyo:

Kyo told Die to talk later but he thought Kyo was just being diplomatic, so he went home. They met at a venue about a week later and Kyo told him “You went home that day, right?”. So, they talked again at the emergency stairs and Die was invited to join his band. When Die thought about it later, Kyo wasn’t in a band anymore at that time, so he wondered if Kyo tried to contact him.

Die: Flyers at that time were black and white, and the image quality was poor, but I think he chose me for that (the flyer).

Kaoru:

Die: When I first met him, he was at another band. Kaoru was also a good guitarist. He told me “You often play lives here, right?”

Yamo-chan (Shinya)

Die: It was at a taiban ( band’s event) but I didn’t notice him at that time. Later I was like “Were you at the Taiban?”

Toshiya:

Die: I used to say hello to him at live houses, but we properly talked at a Sugamo’s coffee shop. Kyo was with me. It seems that Toshiya lived close to Sugamo, so Sugamo was fine. Kyo and me weren’t used to Tokyo so we didn’t know how to get to Sugamo. We got on the opposite Yamanote line and I said, "Isn't it the other way around ...?"  and Kyo replied "Maybe ..."

---- 

Fujieda: Die, have you had any fun lately?

Die: Today!

  ----

Notes from user rikr66603 at twitter.

 Die about meeting Kyo:

Die: I met Kyo for the first time at a toilet. Our bands were playing at a taiban (battle of bands/band’s event). Kyo was doing his hair at the bathroom and I passed behind him and say “nice to meet you”. He told me to talk after the live, but I thought he was just being polite. Like “Let’s drink someday”… I thought he was just being polite so I went home. *laughs* The next time we met, he told me  I went home after that and I told him “I thought you were just being polite” *laughs* He told me to talk later that day after the live. He invited me to do a band together at the emergency stairs. It was a big turning point. Kyo wasn’t in a band at that time so he was like “come and see me”.

Fujieda: Kyo said he saw you in a flyer and thought that your aura was different.

Die: I used to put a lot of flyers at live houses. They were black and white. The image quality was poor. It seems that he chose me among them." )

---

About Oboro.

Die: We used to shoot individually and combine them but this time the 5 members gathered and did the shooting…..5 members…or should I say 6? *laughs*

Fujieda: To be exact, there were 6 people *laughs*

Die: Did we shoot in January? Or was it at February?

Toshiya: February

Die: There was a woman and she couldn’t move even though it was cold. Or even if she got hungry, Kyo either. Kyo was very close to the woman (makes a hand gesture of about 30 cm). It seemed awkward. He/we were talking turning sideways.

Fujieda: They couldn’t move. Also, he was covered in a liquid…. the other members as well, right?

Die: it was a cold liquid

Toshiya: It felt gross when it got dry….

Die: It was dirty….

 ---- 

Highlights of the live footage

Die: JEALOUS. It’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing from the intro. The recording was at a private house. Ah, didn’t we do it at a private house?

Toshiya:  I haven’t gone there.

Die: We used two rooms at a apartment house for the drum and bass. We pierced/ put through the wall a cord and recorded it. The guitars and Kyo were recorded at a private house. It was the engineers’ house. He lived in a normal residential area. Behind the house you could heard the dogs and the crows in the evening. The dogs were barking so you could hear the dogs at Kyo’s signing part. We waited for the dogs to stop barking so Kyo could record. I got fever and I felt asleep. I put a futon on the tatami floor and I slept but, there was the portrait of a deceased old woman that I didn’t know. While thinking that I wasn’t going to get better, I felt asleep.f Was it May? After that, we recorded for 3 weeks in New York. The difference from doing it in a private house was amazing.

#dir en grey

[fleeting-queen-of-pepperland]

Yardbirds Of A Feather

Robert Plant x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3K 

-----------------------------------

Ethereal.

That was the only word that could nearly encompass Robert as he dominated the stage with his presence; his arms moving delicately in the air, his back arching through the higher notes, and the way he interacted with the audience as the music seemed to flow through him with every step he took across the stage. 

Seeing him from such a short distance almost felt like a religious experience. 

You smiled and leaned against one of the walls, hidden backstage in what felt like your own V.I.P spot. You had been a roadie for the band for nearly four years. Getting to know the rest of the boys and being talked into into their alcohol fueled misadventures more times than you’d care to admit had been one hell of a ride, and no matter how crazy, hectic and challenging that lifestyle had proven to be, you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. 

Well, perhaps for one thing only. Something related to the curly-haired frontman who covertly turned to look your way and smiled goofily before turning to the roaring audience once more and lifting his arms. 

Robert and you had the best of friends since you were teenagers. After your family moved next door to his, it didn’t take long for him to come up to you one afternoon and interrogate you about your taste in music after claiming to have overheard Elvis Presley music coming from your room, in that extroverted and friendly way you had grown accustomed to. On the other hand, your first instinct was to bashfully blush and apologize for the noise. Since then, you had become practically inseparable. 

Despite your noticeably different personalities, Robert had a knack for reading people, and he knew it was just a matter of time until you came out of your shell. It only took one year of innumerable afternoons at either one’s house, the park, or all the local pubs; talking music, films, or literally anything. By now you were certain you knew each other better than nearly anyone else, and Robert was one of the few people you were a completely different person around, shedding that taciturn and somewhat reserved layer.

However, as time went by, you began to realize your feelings towards him had begun to change, without knowing exactly when or how. 

Suddenly, you’d feel especially tense and even coy when he did things such as putting his arm around you or playfully throwing you over his shoulders to carry you around; things you didn’t use to mind. At least not as much. You were no fool. Of course you knew what it meant and, moreover, you were aware of the consequences romantic feelings could have on your friendship, so you had decided you wouldn’t risk it. You’d wait until the strain you felt in your chest whenever he leaned in too close and the subconscious smile that crept onto your cheeks at the first sight of him in the morning disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. 

However, back in the present, it wasn’t until he threw you a questioning look that you realized your eyes had been on him all along, even in the middle of Jimmy’s guitar solo that had the crowd going absolutely mad. Literally everyone in the venue, even some other roadies that stood next to you had their eyes fixed on Jimmy as his fingers strummed the chords of his guitar with dexterity. Everyone but you. 

“Shit”, you thought as you attempted to smile nonchalantly, waving at him awkwardly before retreating behind the stage, putting your hand over your eyes in a chagrined manner. 

You nearly crashed into Gage, a fellow roadie who was laboriously pushing one of the cases in which the equipment was stored. 

“Hey,” he greeted “Is everything alright?” 

You nodded and got behind the massive black rectangle, next to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where do you want this?” 

He gestured towards the spot through which the band would be coming through when the concert was over, and both of you began pushing. By the time you got there, both of you were sweating. Fun aside, being a roadie was also exhausting. 

You reached your meant destination as Robert’s voice resounded through the venue and reached your ears.  

“I want to thank each and all of you for being here tonight! We love you, and good night!”

The multitude cheered, mixed exclamations of excitement and desolation for the end of such a wonderful show filled the air for several more minutes. 

You reached out your arms as the boys strode off the stage and made their way to the back while still waving at the crowd. 

Jimmy smiled at you and placed his guitar on your hands before receiving a paper cup filled with something that probably wasn’t water from another roadie.  

“Thanks, Y/n.” he said before pouring the contents of the cup down his throat. 

“Great job, guys,” You said, smiling kindly at Jimmy and nodding at Bonzo and John as they walked by. Then you turned your attention to Robert, who seemed to be ready to engulf you in a sweaty hug as he often did after his shows. 

However, this time he didn’t. 

Instead, he seemed to catch himself and pulled his arms back before patting you on the back with a smile before walking towards his band mates. 

Well, that was odd. He probably thought you hadn’t noticed, but you could definitely see him change his mind mid-second and decide otherwise hugging you. 

A new, frightening possibility invaded your mind as you carefully placed Jimmy’s guitar back in its case and left it with the rest of the equipment. 

“Was I too obvious?” You internally wondered, “Oh god. He knows. He definitely knows and he feels uncomfortable around me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head sternly, decidedly putting a halt to your anxious, overthinking brain. Robert couldn’t possibly know. He hadn’t said or implied anything, and you had made sure to hide your infatuation as best as you could. 

“Hey, Y/n!” Bonzo yelled, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts. “We’re heading down to the pub, you coming?” 

You turned to Robert, who was busy lighting a cigarette and didn’t look up. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself, that brief moment of panic had made you feel paranoid, and you decided it was better to call it a night and not hang around Robert in that state, so jittery that it could be obvious something was up with you, and you weren’t a good enough liar as to take that risk, let alone with a couple of beers in you. 

On the other hand, you always went to the pub with them. You couldn’t just decline and expect none of them to think it was odd. 

“No, sorry. Not tonight, I’m…not feeling well.” you quickly put an excuse together and even cleared your throat a little so it was believable. 

“Oh, come on,” John protested, “You showed up to work, didn’t you? You’re fine!”

“I came to work because I love you guys,” you said with a soft chuckle, your eyes unconsciously drifting to the still oblivious Robert. Good lord, even that innocent phrase made your stomach churn. This was bad. “I just need to lay down. I’ll be as good as new tomorrow, I promise”

“Alright, see you tomorrow, Y/n.” John said disheartenedly before walking away, Jimmy and Bonzo following after saying their goodbyes to you. 

And so, you went to grab your things, relieved that your excuse had actually worked and you’d be able to walk out without raising suspicion. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A voice behind you said apprehensively. Your body stiffened and you made your best effort to casually turn around, lifting your closed fist up to your mouth and faking another cough as you nodded. 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you said with a smile. Robert didn’t return it. The blond singer just stared at you up and down, his lips pursed in a concerned grin. 

“Okay,” he finally said before nodding and going after the others, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The moment he disappeared behind the corner, you released a long, shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

You sighed as you threw your key in the bowl next to the entrance before closing the door behind you. However small and hideously furnished, at the moment that hotel room was the coziest, safest place on Earth. 

You looked inside the mini fridge in search of something to drink, finding only a couple of beer cans. You shrugged as you took one and opened it, a pleasant fizzing sound emerging from it as your made your way to the couch before turning on the television, even though you knew you probably wouldn’t pay any attention to it. Robert’s odd attitude had planted a seed of uncertainty in your heart, and you were seriously struggling to pay it no mind.

“Alright,” a soft, tentatively hopeful voice in your brain whispered. “but what if he does feel the same way?” 

You even shook your head at the possibility. Or impossibility, would be a more accurate way of putting it. This was no longer Rob, the quirky teenager who wrote songs in his notebook and only dreamed of one day singing them to the masses. 

This was Robert Plant, The Golden God. Girls –beautiful girls– seemed to throw themselves at him wherever he went, or stared at him with amazement and even devotion from the pit when he was onstage. Perhaps he was even flirting with one of them at that very moment. 

“Seriously, why are you doing this to me?” You asked your brain out loud with a groan. You’d positively go insane sooner or later if you continued like this. Now you had actually begun to regret your decision of returning to the hotel in instead of going out with the boys and having fun, as it looked more and more cowardly with each passing minute. Sure, he’d be there but maybe the more naturally you acted around him, the faster your crush would disappear? 

It sounded logical to you. If you repeatedly acted as if nothing weird happened, then you would end up believing it and everything would go back to the way it was. 

“Yeah, right,” you said to yourself begrudgingly before standing up. You wouldn’t let some stupid, insecure thoughts ruin your night. 

Picking up the phone, you dialed the front desk to be met by a familiar beeping sound for a couple of seconds.

“Good night, how can I help you?” A lady answered in a sweet voice. 

“Hi, I know it’s late but is your room service still available?” you asked, picking up the small menu that laid on the nightstand. 

“Yes, it is, what would you like, Miss?” 

“I’d like a large pepperoni pizza, please.” 

After thanking her, you marched to the bathroom to take a quick but well-deserved shower. Not even five minutes later, right as you were walking out comfortably wrapped in a towel, a knock on the door made your stomach instinctively growl.

“Well, that was fast,” you thought as you made your way to the door and swung it open. 

However, instead of the room service person you expected, you were met by Robert’s surprised glance as he helplessly stared at you for the single second it took for both of you to react, you slamming the door shut on his face with a yelp and him repeatedly apologizing, immediately looking away even after you had closed the door. 

“What are you doing here?!” You asked, bewildered, as you made your way to your closet and found the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed, throwing it on as you hurriedly made your way back to the door, opening it to find the poor singer looking awfully flustered. 

“I want–” he stammered and cleared his throat, “I just wanted to see if you were still feeling better. I mean, if you were feeling sicker already.” 

He blinked a couple of times and shook his head bashfully, frustrated at his involuntary lapsus. 

“What about the boys?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Robert just smiled and shrugged dismissively. 

“They can do just fine without me. How are you feeling?” 

“Golden!” you said, your voice raising almost an octave out of nervousness. Yeah, you were many things, but a professional liar wasn’t one of them. “Do you...want to come in?” 

He nodded and both of you stepped into the room. It wasn’t until then that you realized he had brought an acoustic guitar with him. After looking around the room, Robert finally deposited it atop the coffee table. The room probably seemed small compared to the much, much nicer ones the hotel where the band was staying at had, but he couldn’t care less. 

“I brought you chicken soup,” he announced, lifting the paper bag he was carrying. “Seemed to me that you were coughing earlier, and the cabbie said there was a small restaurant not far from here and...I hope it helps.” 

“Thanks,” you said, a warm feeling spreading through your chest as you gifted him with a sincere smile. Now you almost felt guilty about lying to them about being sick. 

“So,” he said, gesturing towards the T.V. “What are we watching?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t really paying any attention to it,” you admitted, to which he chuckled and settled on the couch. 

“You just needed some background noise?” he asked, familiarized with your habit that stemmed from your hatred of silence. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing,” 

He patted the guitar case and then the spot next to him on the couch, which you settled in with just a little hesitation. 

“With what tale of vikings or Celtic legend will you grace my ears tonight, Rob?” you asked, to which he half-heartedly laughed. 

Your smile fell a little. There it was, those odd gestures that had become increasingly frequent and made you so uneasy. He pressed his lips together until they were just a thin line and took a deep breath before shaking his head. 

“None, really. I wanted to show you something I’ve been working on. Well, we’ve been working on, the melody is Jimmy’s but he said he wanted me to put words to it and...never mind, I’m rambling again.” 

You nodded in agreement with a shaky snicker as you brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them. Robert carefully placed his fingers on the strings and began to play, only to interrupt the melody after just a couple of chords. 

“It’s just...It’s not done yet, alright? This is just...a sample, if you may.”

“Quit stalling!” you said with an impatient laughter, shoving his shoulder playfully. He normally wasn’t afraid to show you the songs he wrote, so you knew there was something about this one. 

“Alright,” he said quietly before he began to strum the chords gently once again. He swallowed hard as he parted his lips and began to sing in that clear, whispering voice of his. 

“It is the summer of my smiles

flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes,

it is to you I give this tune…”

The melody was gorgeous, but that was no surprise. Jimmy had an amazing talent for those things. However, it was not the melody that had captured your attention. It was the lyrics, and the evident feeling with which Rob vocalized every one of them. He kept singing, humming during the bits he still had no lyrics for. 

“I’ve felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go 

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, ‘pon us, ‘pon us

But I know that I love you so

But I know that I love you so…” 

He strummed all the chords one last time to close the song and stared at you nervously. 

“That’s...that’s all I have so far. What do you think?” 

“Rob, that’s beautiful.” You said, almost breathlessly. It really was. Even though to you his lyric writing ability was unbeatable, and this had been just a small display of it, he truly had something special there. “I can’t wait to hear it when it’s complete. I don’t know where you get all these beautiful words and ideas from.” 

“I do.” He blurted out. You looked at him and tilted your head, puzzled. He did? What was that supposed to mean? Of course he did, that was kind of obvious. However, as you looked at him inquiringly, he just kept staring back, like he expected something to fall into place in your head at any moment. Suddenly, he moved his hand forward and placed it on top of yours. 

“Y/n, I didn’t come here just to check in on you. I need to talk to you about something.”

Those words sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. This was it. He knew. What else could that possibly mean? You were about to blurt out any excuse to explain your recent behavior, try to dig a new way out of that situation, figure out a new escape plan; until you felt the warmth of Robert’s palm when his free hand cupped your cheek. 

Then, he so slowly began to lean close to you, closer than he had ever been, until his warm, musky breath hit your face. 

“I know where I get those words from. I’ve known since the day you got me that notebook and told me it was where many songs that’d go down in history would be written. And I’ve known since you fell asleep on my shoulder during that first flight to America, and you can’t possibly know how many moments of my life wouldn’t have been complete without you ever since. And before I start rambling again I need you to know, I love you Y/n.” 

“You do?” you asked, half expecting to wake up from whatever hope-fueled dream this felt like, but as that smile you loved so much that hadn’t changed in years tugged at the edge of his lips and his hand squeezed yours tighter, you realized this was all real.

“Me too,” was all you managed to say, breathlessly, overwhelmed by all the emotions coursing through your chest. 

It didn’t take him a single second to close the breach between your lips and his, bringing his other hand to cup your face as well before slowly letting them fall down your neck, finally settling them around your waist, pulling you closer and allowing you to carefully slide your arms around his neck. 

“I knew it was a bad idea to hold myself back,” he said with a chuckle after slowly pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “I just thought...I don’t know, you were acting so oddly around me lately that I thought you knew and you were trying to push me away, you know?” 

“I guess we are two birds of a feather, huh?” you said with an amused smirk. 

Robert didn’t say anything. He just smiled as he brought you in for another kiss, and you knew that neither of you would have it any other way. 

#led zeppelin #robert plant #jimmy page #john bohnam #john paul jones #led zeppelin imagine #robert plant imagine #robert plant x reader #reader insert #70s music #70s rock #classic rock #classic rock imagine #rock imagines

[ironhusband]

5 Times Tony Said I Know A Place  + 1 Time Rhodey Said It

-1-

It started small, which, contrary to popular belief, is something Tony can start with. Maybe only when he was a fifteen year old kid with no experience or confidence, and not the billionaire persona Tony developed, but still. When it first happened, Rhodey and him didn’t know each other very well, but still felt concocted due to their early admissions and having to shout to be heard. But they weren’t best friends who knew each other so intimately back then. They were just roommates slowly going through becoming friends.

So it started with Rhodey frowning at his C.

“What’s the matter, sourpatch?” Tony asked, and unconsciously, Rhodey hid the paper away from his eyes. Tony glanced at the paper Rhodey hid. “You seem… concerned?”

“It’s nothing,” Rhodey dismissed, not wanting to admit to getting a bad mark, “do you want to get take out tonight?”

“It’s not nothing!” Tony ignored his question, “you’re upset!”

Rhodey pursed his lips, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped, “oh. Okay.”

Rhodey folded the paper neatly and put it in his drawer, trying to put the mark and conversation behind him, “okay, so do you want take out?”

“Actually, I know a place,” Tony said and then offered him a hand for Rhodey to take, “let’s eat out.”

~~~

In the next half an hour, Tony actually managed to bring a smile to his face, “I can’t believe you took me to Chuck E. Cheese!”

“Hey, say what you want about my methods, but I get results,” Tony grinned back at him, “I-I get to see that beautiful smile.”

Rhodey couldn’t help but have his smile spread at Tony’s downright adorable attempt at flirting. Then his smile dimmed slightly, as he brought his hand to his mouth in curiosity, realizing what that meant, “you did this to cheer me up?”

Tony snorted, “no, this is where I bring all my dates to.”

“Shut up,” Rhodey shoved him but didn’t object to this being called a date, “why here?”

Tony shrugged, “it’s where my butler used to bring me as a kid when I was upset. Always managed to make me forget what made me cry. Thought you could use this place too.”

Rhodey shook his head. It didn’t make sense how Tony managed to effortlessly understand him. Some people might have forced him to talk about what made him upset or took him anywhere else that wasn’t used to cheer a child up. But not Tony. Tony knew just what he needed.

“You’re ridiculous,” is what he told Tony and brought into a one armed hug.

-2-

“Hey, you’re back!” Tony cheered, “how was the test?”

“Good, I think,” Rhodey shrugged, “c’mon, you know me. And it’s physics. I’m good at it.”

Tony stuck his tongue at him, “don’t rub it in.”

Rhodey only smirked in response. “Okay, I'm studying for chem now, so be quiet.”

“What did you just say to me?” Tony gasped.

Rhodey chuckled, “I’ve only got a window for an hour. I gotta use it.”

“You just aced a test and you’re studying again?” Tony shook his head and stood up detremindly, “unacceptable. We, Rhodey Rhodes, are going out to celebrate. And I know just the place.”

“Tony, I can’t-”

Tony put a hand over his mouth, “I won’t hear it.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes but didn’t try objecting again.

~~~

“No, you’re wrong, the pool is way better than the beach!”

“I can’t believe you’re standing in front of this beauty and saying this!”

Rhodey glanced at the beach, “but the water is salty.”

Tony snorted and he sarcastically drawled, “okay, you win.”

“You know, you should be taking my side,” Rhodey pointed out, “out of the two of us you’re more likely to get a visible sunburn.”

Tony bristled, “yeah, but waves.”

“That’s a con.”

“No, it’s not!”

Rhodey smiled at him, “I’m not having a yes no argument with you.”

“Okay, then I win.”

Rhodey laughed. Rhodey went on to ace both of his tests and Tony grinned and said, “I take credit for giving you a much needed break.” Rhodey pinched him playfully but didn’t tell Tony how he was running on only coffee at that point.

-3-

“Honeybear, you’re gonna love me,” Tony announced to him.

“I already love you,” Rhodey told him and showed his point by rubbing his nose against Tony and briefly pressing a kiss to his lips.

Tony giggled, and what a wonderful sound it was. “No, I mean really love me. Like trying out that thing I keep suggesting love me.”

“Impossible,” Rhodey said and dropped what he was doing.

Tony smirked and said, “I got us two tickets to Guns n’ Roses.”

Rhodey gasped, “no!”

“Yes!”

Rhodey lunged at him and cupped Tony’s face in his hands, “oh my God, I do love you.”

Tony pecked him, “told you.”

“But wait,” Rhodey paused, “they’re all sold out. I made my sister camp out. How did you…?”

Tony bit his lip, “yeah, about that...”

Rhodey looked at him suspiciously, “what did you do?”

“Don’t worry, I just know a place.”

~~~

Tony ended up finding them the best car to drive them to the concert almost halfway across the country. He told their teachers they were sick with a high fever. Rhodey chastised him for it, but it was still the best concert he ever went to so it was half hearted. He was forever grateful to Tony for letting him see his favorite band live.

-4-

Rhodey felt like crying his eyes out with frustration. His CO wouldn’t let him do anything important, his CO didn’t believe he could do anything important and most importantly, his CO wasn’t letting him prove he could do anything important. He didn’t know what to do and he felt helpless and at loss. Rhodey hated feeling like that.

He burrowed his face into his boyfriend’s neck, the safest, most comforting place on Earth, “will you still date me if I quit MIT?”

“No actually, I have three other back ups I know won’t flunk,” Tony quipped but at the way Rhodey’s hands tightened around his middle he said, “just kidding, honeybear. You know you’re the only one for me. MIT or no MIT.”

Rhodey hummed, feeling warmer at the praise, “what if I go to CalTech?”

“Don’t even joke, Rhodes,” he rubbed his hands comfortingly around the arms on his waist, “why do you think you’re flunking?”

“I’m not flunking,” Rhodey mumbled, “but my CO sure wants me to.”

Tony groaned, “that guy’s a jerk. He doesn’t know what he has in his hands.”

Rhodey smiled into his neck, but he didn’t feel any less frustrated or any more hopeful.

“Hey, I think I have something that might cheer you up,” Tony said, “I was saving it for your birthday, but I think you might want it now.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Rhodey grumbled.

Tony chuckled, “get your mind out of the gutter. I know a place.”

~~~

Tony took him to a small airport. All through the drive Tony teased him about wearing a blindfold, so to not ruin the surprise, which did not ease Rhodey’s anxiety one bit. But when they got there… Tony showed him the most amazing plane. “It’s your favorite model, right?” Tony asked, “you told me so.”

Rhodey started at him and then at the plane and then back at Tony, “you remembered that?”

“Course I did,” Tony scoffed at him, “I needed something for your birthday. Come, this isn’t all.” Then Tony took him by the hand and introduced him to the pilot, “he’s gonna take you for a spin.”

Rhodey couldn’t believe what Tony was offering him, and it took him a while to recover enough to nod and get into the plane. The pilot flew him, twisting and turning and going upside down with the aircraft, making Rhodey shriek in delight. When they were done, the pilot allowed any and all questions, even letting Rhodey touch the controls to “test fly” the plane while it was turned off.

When he came to land Tony told him, “you’re not going to flunk.” He cupped Rhodey’s face gently, “you’re going to pass ROTC with flying colors, go on to get an amazing position that will make your CO jealous and fly a plane just like this one day. Just you wait.”

Little did Rhodey know by then, but Tony was right.

Rhodey kissed Tony with a smile still stretched on his face, “I don’t think you can find another gift for my birthday to top this.”

-5-

Rhodey was homesick. He hadn’t seen his family in a long time and he was starting to miss them. What put him in an especially sour mood was when his sister got a part in a play she was excited about, and Rhodey couldn’t come and watch it.

“I hate you when you’re in this mood,” Tony complained, “just want to make you feel better.”

Rhodey sighed, “I know this is hard for you to understand because your dad is an asshole. But I don’t know… I just miss them. And Philly too. God, I miss Philly.”

Tony looked thoughtful before a grin showed on his face, “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Rhodey teased.

Tony stuck his tongue out at him, “I think I know a place that will cheer you up. You trust me?”

Rhodey wanted to say something teasing but what he ended up saying was, “with my life.”

~~~

Tony took him to the Charles Hayden Planetarium because Rhodey once told him it reminded him of the Franklin Institute back at home. They watched the stars together and Rhodey nuzzled his neck and told him, “the stars in your eyes are more beautiful.” By the end of the night, Rhodey still missed home but he felt he was just as lucky to be with his other home, with Tony.

-+1-

Tony wiped the tears from his face, embarrassed that Rhodey saw his outburst of emotional weakness. Voice shaky and watery, Tony looked away from Rhodey’s concerned gaze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rhodey didn’t say anything and Tony didn’t watch for his reaction. Eventually, Rhodey sat beside, pressed himself against Tony and nudged him gently. “I think I know a place,” he joked.

Tony laughed quietly, the laugh coming out broken. The line had long since become an inside joke for them, as Tony had a habit of repeating it too much. Rhodey usually wasn’t serious when he said it, but this seemed like more than a joke. He wondered what place Rhodey could be talking about. A burger joint? A robotics lab? Maybe a music store?

But instead, Rhodey brought him to his arms and hugged him tightly, hands on Tony’s back drawing comforting circles.

Tony frowned, confused, “what’s the place?”

Rhodey hugged him tighter, “right here,” he said, kissing the top of Tony’s head, “home.”

#userpavi #userduckyy #usersae #ironhusbands #iron husbands #rhfe #rhodeytony #tonyrhodey #james rhodes #james rhodey rhodes #rhodey #tony stark #druwrites #ironhusbands fic #rhodeytony fic #Iron Man #war machine #iron patriot #Tony is 15 at the start but rhodey is just one year older than him in this fic. some parts are when they're 18

[halfway-happyyy]

Sleep on the Floor

AN: I’ve thought about this concept on and off for a while now, and finally decided to write it down. Alexander and a rather unfriendly acquaintance cross paths again at a music festival, and end up handcuffed together for the day. Under the cut because it’s lengthy 💖

tw: nothing but fluff, friends.

As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

It was the bright glare of the sunlight glinting off the metal object in the back pocket of her best friend’s denim shorts that initially caught Daisy’s attention. After an hour of scouring multiple maps of Montreal’s many metro lines- (“Well do we need to take the orange line or the green one?” and “Can’t you just google maps it?” and perhaps Daisy’s personal favourite- “We should have just spent the sixty dollars on an uber.”) The trio of friends had finally made it to Parc Jean-Drapeau, where the three-day Osheaga music festival was being held. “Bea, what’ve you got in your pocket there?” Daisy reached toward her without an answer or invitation, and produced a pair of weighted, silver handcuffs. 

Bea lunged for the cuffs back, a smirk in place on her features.

“What on earth could you possibly need handcuffs for at a music festival?” Daisy asked, eyebrows raised in genuine confusion.

Returning the cuffs to her pocket, Bea shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the smirk from moment’s ago still tugged the edge of her lip upward. “It’s been my experience that you just never know when you’ll need ‘em. Be good Daze, or I’ll use them on you.” And Daisy supposed that after a couple of choice alcoholic beverages that could start to sound like one hell of a fun proposition.

“I literally don’t see him anywhere Bea,” Hannah sighed heavily.

Daisy glanced at Bea’s better half; a hand shielded her gaze from the onslaught of the sun’s rays as she stood on tiptoes to scan the expansive park around her. “Who are you looking for?”

Hannah dropped back onto the balls of her feet; her bottom lip wedged between her teeth like she was anxious about something. “Did Bea not tell you?” She peered over at her girlfriend, expectantly. “Did you not tell her?”

Bea rolled her hazel eyes and murmured “shit.”

Daisy’s vision narrowed. “What’s going on?”

Hannah squinted over at Daisy, kicking aside a stray pebble with the toe of her pink platform sneaker. “We uh… We invited Alex and some of his friends to join us for the weekend.”

Her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture, Daisy wished that she had a bottle of beer in her hand, or some other ice-cold alcoholic beverage to distract her from the heat rising steadily to her cheeks. Tongue thick in her throat, she turned to her friends. “You invited Alex Skarsgård to our Osheaga weekend?” Shifting from side to side uncomfortably, Bea eventually nodded her head in the affirmative. Daisy took a deep breath. “I just think that might have been good information to know before now.”

“You wouldn’t have come…” Hannah interjected.

A humorless laugh bubbled up from the base of Daisy's throat. “You’re probably right.” Hives of people from all over the country milled about the green hillsides, a myriad of accents and languages- mostly French, echoed throughout the vast park. Daisy raised her face to the heavens, reveling in the feeling of the late July sun on her skin and sighed heavily.

“What is it about him?” Bea asked quietly.

Daisy's eyes fell shut. “Where would I even begin?”

“Alright, here they come.” Hannah murmured.

Bea offered her dearest friend a sympathetic look but knew better than to touch her just then. “He wants to make it up to you, Daze.”

Daisy swallowed hard and followed Hannah’s gaze to the quartet of men currently striding towards them. He bore a striking resemblance to the man she had known a year ago, though his dark blonde hair was longer now, and stubble shadowed the underside of his chiseled jaw. Clad in a pair of dark jeans, a grey t shirt and a pair of black converse high-tops, a round pair of yellow tortoise-shell sunglasses sat perched atop his head. “I don’t need him to,” Daisy murmured. “Just try and help me keep my distance from him today, alright?”

Bea was apprehensive, but nodded her head in agreement. “Alright.”

“Good afternoon ladies!” Alexander exclaimed jubilantly once he had caught up to them. He greeted both Hannah and Bea with bear hugs like he’d known them his whole life, and not a mere couple of years. When he got to Daisy, she was surprised to see that his grin hadn’t faltered at all. “Hello Daisy. It’s nice to see you again.”  

She offered him a wilted smile. “Hi, Alex.”

He faltered a beat before turning to the three men next to him. Daisy knew by the sight of them that they had to be related to Alexander in some way, each one a wide-eyed and giraffe-like carbon copy of the other. “Ladies, this here is my good pal Oskar, my kid brother Valter, and my other brother Bill.”

And God said, “Let there be Skarsgård’s,” and there were Skarsgårds.

Bea cleared her throat. “Alright, gang. Shall we check out the rest of the park? Find a watering hole?”

Alexander held out an arm before him. “Lead the way, friend.”

“How long are you guys here for?” Hannah asked as they made their way into a beer tent on the platinum grounds.

“Just for the weekend. Then I'm back to New York for a couple of meetings and then uh… these guys and I,” He winked at the three men next to him. “Are supposed to be in Stockholm for a wedding next week.” Alexander reached into his back pocket for his wallet and approached the bartender behind the counter. “Hey there. How are you?”

"Fantastic." A miniscule fan in the corner of the tent did little to blow any actual cool air around, and a slick sheen of perspiration bloomed over her neck and forehead.

“You must be pumped to be able to hear all the music from here!” Bill beamed at her.

She smacked the wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth, her expression deadpan. “Absolutely ecstatic.”

Valter cleared his throat to keep from laughing.

“Alright then. Uh,” Alexander squinted at the black chalkboard drink menu above him. “What have you got in the way of alcohol for shots?”

“Vodka. Gin. Tequila.”

He turned to the group, gaze expectant. “What are we all in the mood for?”

“Vodka!” Had been the resounding answer, and Daisy didn’t think she’d ever been more ready to shoot straight liquor in her entire life. The alcohol was rough, and it stoked the fire already roaring in the pit of her belly, causing beads of sweat to bloom on her forehead. They milled about for another fifteen minutes, and Daisy was awed by how much alcohol the seven of them had been able to consume in such a short amount of time. Some drinks came in the form of grotesque shooters- “We drink these all the time back home!”, others had taken the shape of ice-cold beers beneath the salvation of another tent. It occurred to her that the breakfast she had consumed a couple of hours ago was insufficient for the poison now in her system, and that down the line, it might pose a bit of a problem. For now, Daisy was simply content to sip whatever she was given, and to enjoy the first full day of her vacation.

Their first set of the weekend was the Foo Fighters- and by some stretch of a miracle, the festival gods had blessed her with a spot in the crowd that made for a fantastic vantage point of the stage. She was naive to assume that it would happen again, so she watched Dave Grohl dominate the crowd in unbridled awe, and without a care in the world. And when they played My Hero- she joined along with the sea of people around her and sang her heart out to every single word.

After the set ended, the seven of them managed to touch base again beneath a patch of glorious shade. “It’s come to my attention that you and I have some unfinished business, Daisy.” Alexander had to yell to be heard above the roar of the white noise around them.

Even surrounded by hundreds of strangers, Daisy felt inexplicably naked beneath his gaze and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “You don’t owe me anything, Alex.”

“I owe you an apology, Daisy.”

A sigh exited her mouth in the form of a puff of air, and she eyed the people walking past her with mild contempt. “Just for one day, just one, I want to know what it feels like to be tall at a concert.”

“I know how you feel, Daze.” Hannah fanned a hand in front of her face in a useless attempt to keep the sweltering heat at bay.

Valter laughed and traded sheepish expressions with Bill. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

Alexander clicked his tongue and glanced down at her, azure eyes glittering mischievously. “View from down there not so great, huh?”

His tone brimmed with mirth and Daisy’s skin prickled under the heat of it; the urge to smack the smirk from his face was all-consuming. She stared up at him, pointedly. “As someone who probably shares- at least most- of their genetic makeup with that of the Brachiosaurus, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like.”

His guffaw was loud and booming, and it caused Daisy’s heightened blood pressure to soar beneath the scorching Montreal weather. “Yeah, well, every woman in your maternal bloodline for the past one hundred years was probably four foot eleven, tops. You take what you’re given, kid.” Silence hung between them and Daisy shot Bea a look that simply said, ‘you did this to me, and eventually you will pay for it’. Alexander cleared his throat, oblivious to the mounting tension. “Look, if you want I can hoist you onto my shoulders for the next set and then you’ll know exactly what it’s like to be tall at a concert.”

Daisy took a deep sip of her beer, her defiant gaze trained on something unseen before her. “Your concern for my experience here is heartwarming, really it is, but believe me when I say that I’d rather suffer down here.”

Alexander shrugged and shook his head in mild amusement. “Suit yourself then, half-pint.” Venomous words threatened to erupt from her throat, but they stayed lodged where they were, because just then and with the expertise of someone who was inexplicably well-versed in the act, Bea had managed to clasp a silver handcuff around Daisy’s left wrist. She stared at it in alcohol-induced amusement, and suddenly everyone around them was laughing. She lifted her arm to try and shake her wrist out of it, but a heavy weight dropped it back down to her side, and the realization that the other half of her cuff was bound to Alexander’s right wrist, was sudden and all-consuming. She swallowed hard. 

“While admittedly funny for the first few milliseconds, I’m going to have to insist that you unlock us now.”

Bea levelled her honeyed gaze with Daisy’s and smiled sweetly. “Relax Daze. You’ll be free of each other by nightfall.”

All Alexander could do was howl. “Nightfall? Good luck-" He managed in between fits of laughter. “Getting the kid to last half an hour!” When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat and glanced down at Bea, his blue gaze twinkled roguishly. “C’mon Bea. Let us out, hm?”

Bea shook her head and patted the miniscule outline of the key in her pocket. “Last set of the day. Nightfall. I promise.”

There had been protests from both sides, but for as strong-willed as Daisy knew her best friend to be, she also knew that she wasn’t in the business of giving in easily and the pair of them gave up trying while they were ahead. While mind-numbingly irritating for the first few hours, the all-consuming heat eventually zapped Daisy of her ability to care about anything except for cold drinks and air conditioning, and she supposed, begrudgingly, that there were worse people to be chained to for a day. It was only after their lunch of tacos and beer from a local food truck- Daisy and Alexander sat atop a bed of grass, knee-to-knee, that they realized they had managed to get split up from the rest of the crew. But if either of them had been worried about it, they didn’t let it show. “Who are you most excited to see play here?” Daisy asked for no reason, other than she could think of nothing else to say.

Alexander tipped the neck of the beer bottle to his lips with his free hand and took a hearty gulp. “Who am I most excited to see? Who are you most excited to see?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t answer a question with a question. Besides, I asked you first.”

He pursed his lips together as if he were thinking hard about it. “The person I am most excited to see, have been waiting all year for… has to be Cardi B.”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’d tell you to confirm with Valter but he is, very conveniently, missing in action.”

Daisy laughed suddenly, and it was a laughter that came in waves and spurred on his own, each of them nearly doubled over as they gave in to their fits. “Gonna to do the WAP?” She breathed out when she could manage it, wiping away traces of saltwater with the pad of her thumb.

Alexander feigned solemnity. “Listen, I would do the WAP dance right this very minute if it weren’t for these cuffs.”

“I believe you.” She giggled.

"I'm glad." His face broke into a beam that put sunshine to shame. Draining the rest of the bottle, he set it back onto the grass and cocked his head to the side. “And you? Who are you most excited to see?”

Daisy stared up at him, the answer had been ready on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. “You have the loveliest flecks of gold in your eyes, did you know that?”

Alexander’s gaze fell to the grass beneath him, his smile painfully shy. “Let’s find us some more beer then, hey? Up on three.”

“Good plan. But we have an issue to resolve first,” Daisy murmured.

Alexander faltered; his head cocked to the side in question. “You mean- apart from the one where we are currently joined at the hip until Bea decides to take mercy on us?”

Daisy nodded. “Right. Besides that one. I have to pee… really bad.” He opened his mouth to say something, but a chuckle roared from the base of his throat instead, and Daisy swore it was like hearing laughter for the very first time. There was an infectious joy to it that made her want to make him laugh like that for that for the rest of her days.

“Alright. Let’s find you a washroom.”

It hadn’t been a difficult venture; platinum tickets holders benefited from the use of private on-site washrooms, and it occurred to Daisy that the astronomical price for the ticket was worth it, solely based on that luxury itself. “I’m sorry that this a thing you are being privy to.” Daisy muttered as they squeezed into a stall together.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I’ve been privy to worse things, kid. I’ll turn away.”

As Daisy hiked her sundress up her frame and squatted above the toilet, she reminded herself that revenge was a dish best served cold, and that one way or another, Bea would pay.

Alexander and Daisy’s afternoon continued in the same fashion; they attended whatever sets piqued their interests, lost track of how many people commented on their unusual predicament, and satiated their parched throats with lots of cold alcoholic beverages. Finally, the golden sun began to sink low over the Montreal skyline, and the temperature drop that came with it was a welcome reprieve to the day's stifling heat. They found themselves amidst a healthy crowd of people, all breathless and ready for one of the final sets of the evening. As she waited for the band to take the stage, Daisy suddenly felt exhausted beyond all measure, but also satisfied in a way that she hadn't been accustomed to in years. She could pin it on the alcohol, or the heat, or that she had finally allowed herself a couple of days off to do whatever she pleased. Deep down, she knew it had nearly everything to do with her current company.

“Where did you go just now?” Alexander asked.

Daisy glanced up at him, confused. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

He seemed unconvinced. “You were a million miles away.”

A shiver wracked her body that had nothing to do with the current weather, and she gestured to the stage. “The Lumineers. These are the guys I'm most excited to see.”

Alexander beamed down at her. “Well then how lucky am I that I get to see them with you.”

Two men entered the stage just then, one stepped up to the microphone, and the other took a seat behind a drum set. Daisy didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until the opening beats of Sleep on the Floor rang out into the humid air before her. A cacophony of cheers erupted from the concertgoers around them, and goosebumps bloomed in patterns over her arms when the bearded man began to sing.

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear

Pack yourself a favorite blouse

Take a withdrawal slip

Take all of your savings out

‘Cause if we don’t ever leave this town

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown

Baby come on

~

“The key is gone.”

The day’s final concert had done Daisy in, and she was inexplicably tired now; her legs heavy like lead, eyelids threatening to shut on their own at any second.

“What do you mean the key is gone, Bea?” She heard Alexander ask. His voice was level, but there was an underlying tinge of frustration to it that made Daisy’s stomach sink.

“It’s… it’s gone. I had it in my pocket earlier and now it’s gone.”

Daisy yawned wide, the urge to lay down on the patch of grass beneath her was almost too tempting to bear. “I’m tired, Alex.”

“I know, kid.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Where did you last have it?”

Bea tugged the edge of her lip into her mouth and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. “I last had it in my pocket.” Dozens of people pushed past the group on their way out of the park; on their way home to waiting bathtubs and beds and Daisy was unbelievably envious of them.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do,” He sighed. “The four of us are going to get into a cab, we’re going to head back to the hotel, and Daisy and I will meet up with you guys right here tomorrow morning. If the key still hasn’t turned up, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“I’m really sorry about this, guys.” Bea muttered lowly.

You absolutely should be, Daisy thought.

Hannah cleared her throat, her arms crossed tight across her chest. “Are you alright with this Daze?”

She nodded, wordlessly.

Their uber ride back to the hotel only spanned the entirety of fifteen minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to Daisy. She drifted off on Alexander’s shoulder to the lulling sound of muted Swedish between the three men, and when she was gently tapped awake by Alexander, the car was parked outside of the Four Seasons. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into bed, hm?”

“This is fancy…” She murmured, as she slid out of the open car door and into the humid evening air.

Valter laughed heartily. “Just wait til you see where you’re staying, Daisy.”

The boys bid themselves goodnight, with Alexander slinging his free arm around each of their shoulders in a half-embrace. He waited until he knew Bill and Valter had made it into their elevator safely, and then led Daisy to a discreet elevator off the lobby, which they rode to the top floor wordlessly. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when the doors opened, but her breath hitched in her throat as she drank in the room in which Alexander was calling home for the next three days. “This is-

“A lot, I know.” He murmured. They wandered past the single king bed, into the next room, whose expansive bay windows offered a breathtaking view of Montreal’s twinkling downtown lights. Daisy gazed down at their entwined wrists, at the small metal chain that bound them together, and marveled at how a mere twelve hours had the power to change everything. “Daisy, I’m sorry.” Alexander spoke above a whisper now. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind last year.”

She took a deep breath, the words thick at the back of her throat. “I never should have put you in a position where you felt that you had to choose between your career, and me.”

Alexander’s fingers found hers, and he squeezed them thrice. “You waltzed into my life when I least expected it, Daisy,” An incredulous sigh pushed past his lips and he shook his head. “A breathtaking hurricane of a woman. I made the decision to ask you to dinner, I should have showed up.”

She smiled tiredly. “You showed up today, Alex.”

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her temple, and his laughter rumbled through her and warmed her in ways sunshine never could. “And look where we are now.”

She gazed up at him, at the deepened creases next to his eyes, and the subtle flecks of gold among a sea of blue, and in that moment, she hardly cared if they ever found the key at all. There was an effortlessness to that truth that felt akin to breathing. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Alex.”

When Daisy's eyes opened in the morning, the weight of Alexander's impossibly warm arm hung snug around her clothed stomach, the cool metal of his cuff a stark contrast to her warm inner arm. The Montreal sunlight pouring in through their bay window glinted off a miniscule key-shaped object on the rug a few feet away from where they lay, and a small smile tugged her lips skyward.

#i just wanna go to a concert with him #is that so much to ask #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard imagines #alexander skarsgard fluff #alexander skarsgard fanfic #rpf #writing #drabble #fluff #alex sstuff

[shittylongcatposts]

Hey hey! How are ya?

For the soulmate alphabet thingie could I request S- Songs with Saeyoung?

I can just imagine MC one day listening to All Star, Never gonna give you up, the one where aquaman goes WHATS GOING on and then being so annoyed, and then the next day is some emo/depressive stuff like MCR or something like that pftt I'm sure MC would be SO confused but I absolutely find it hilarious

You can take all the time you want, and remember to drink lots of water :D

ohhhh!!! this one is hilarious! Thank you Mandy!!^^ I’m still so glad and excited that you requested something- ahhh >.< now, i hope you enjoy it a lot!

stay hydrated 

Soulmate au: S - songs. Any song your soulmate sings will be stuck in your head

Saeyoung x MC (reader)

The first time that your soulmate sent you a catchy song was in your chemistry class, right as you were trying to focus on your task, trying not to spritz the liquid inside your test tube all over the counter, the bongo song started playing in your head. And it was stuck on replay. 

You knew it must have been your soulmate, since all the other songs that were stuck in your head were more… silent and didn’t feel like a live concert where you stood in the first row. 

Of course the liquid bubbled out of the tube and the experiment failed, but despite that you knew that they existed. That you had a soulmate. 

When you came home that day you talked about it with your parents, asking them what they felt when they first “heard” of each other. Your dad just panicked, as you found out, he was so nervous about this feeling, that he did not go out for weeks, hiding himself in his own little word. Scared how things might turn out, after “hearing” of your mom. 

Your mom however tried to communicate with your dad, “sending” him songs that she loved, coming up with questions that she wished for him to answer with another song, and after a while he did and actually she got to meet him just a few months later. From that day on they were always together. Never seperated.

Now they were both enjoying their cup of tea and after you told them about what happened your mom got up, ruffled through your hair and smiled. It was a bright, kind smile. The one she always had playing around her lips when she was proud of something you did. 

“Right now, just go with the flow my dear, see what happens.” 

“I’m so glad that there’s someone out there for you my sweetie” your dad said and hugged you. 

(And with that you began to listen to music more and more, exploring all kinds of songs, directions, until you got stuck in an emo phase lol)

You also got a lot of input from your soulmate who seemed to be around your age but also seemed to be pretty moody. You were wondering from time to time what got into them, if they were stuck somewhere they didn’t want to be. Sometimes you didn’t receive an earwig for days but then again they suddenly came up with the cheesiest meme song, those were the ones you hated the most, because they always popped up when you were in a very important situation. Like the time when you were about to start filling in the answers on the paper sheet right in front of you, amidst your exams, but you just couldn’t focus because your mind played YMCA on repeat. Leaving your brain blanked out with an image of a dancing mothman. (you hated it but it was more like a love hate thing)

But then on some days there were only sad songs, depressing ones and the ones that brought you shivers, leaving you crying with tears that burnt into your heart. They got so sad sometimes, that you were actually worried about them. In these times you always tried sending them a cheery sound, a song that always made you smile when you listened to it or one that felt like a warm hug for you, hoping that they would do the same, feel the same vibes of it as you do.

When the finals were finally over and you officially graduated (your grades weren’t that bad- thank god) your parents gifted you a trip to south korea, all on your own. 

Walking down one of the busy streets in Seoul excited you and your senses were flooded with the smell and the sounds of the city. You looked up, searching for the blue sky that peeked out between the gray clouds, that hung over the city, from time to time. You breathed in and let your mind wander to your friends for a while. 

It hurt you to see that they all found their soulmate in one way or the other but you still didn’t know a thing about your own. You were glad that they did but from time to time seeing them being all cute and lovey dovey with each other stung in your heart.

The only thing you knew was that they were under the same sky as you, which gave you at least a little bit of hope in finding them some day. 

Suddenly a flush rushed through your body, notes began to form in your mind and before you knew there was another song suppressing every other thing that occupied your mind. 

It started silent but got louder and louder, you knew it was them and you silently cursed your soulmate for the new song that stuck in your mind. Darude sandstorm. You would have never imagined walking down the streets of Seoul with Darude Sandstorm playing on repeat. 

Then a red Herari drove by with screeching tires, the windows slightly open, probably to get some fresh air, but what bothered you the most was the sound that came from the car. Darude sandstorm. The red haired guy that sat in the driver’s seat madly dancing along to the song that played on full volume. 

The traffic lights jumped to red and he stopped his car abruptly, waiting for the lights to turn green. You couldn’t decide what to do, you knew it was him, that this guy was your soulmate, but how could you stop them? 

You tried sending them signs, only coming up with stop and stare, but he didn’t stare, he still watched the traffic lights.  

Quick you have to do something, you thought and waved your hand, “hello, it’s me.” your mind sang, but still no response. 

The lights went green and the only thing that came to your mind now was to jump. You closed your eyes, hoping that he would stop. 

“Hey! Hey! Are you hurt?” An unkown voice asked, slapping your face to wake you up from your sudden slumber. You didn’t really feel any pain so you shook your head. 

“Thank god, man, why did you jump right in front of my baby? You could have got yourself killed” the young man sighed, looking at you with concern in his amber eyes. 

So those were the eyes of your soulmate, warm and kind, soft but with a touch of sadness lingering in them. 

“I, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do this, but I would have lost you if I didn’t.” You sighed, rubbing your forehead to get rid of all the things that rushed through your mind. 

“l- Lost me? What are you? A stalker? Now come on, try to get up, then I’ll call an ambulance for you.” The ginger sighed again. He helped you up on your feet in no time, rubbing his neck when you thanked him for it. 

“Oh sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, I’m Luciel, nice to hit, i mean meet you, hehe” 

“I’m Mc, thanks again for helping me.” You smiled and shook the hand he offered you. 

“Now, let me make a phone call.” He said and turned around to pull his phone out of his pocket. He spoke pretty fast and you couldn’t understand a word. You suddenly felt lost, all alone in a huge city. What were you even doing there? What if he wasn’t your soulmate and just happened to listen to the song? You breathed fastened and your heart started racing. Your thoughts were running wild. 

Then new song came to your mind and you started humming the lyrics, softly, barely making any noise. 

it’s something unpredictable but in the end it’s right, I hope you had the time of your life...  (<-- Tha’ts good riddance by Green Day an amazing song!!)

Luciel hung up on the phone, his eyes lingering on your face with shock in his eyes. 

“Say that again, will you?” He closed the distance to hear you better, and started singing the same lyrics you sang. 

Your heartbeat fastened another time, but this time you were excited. You stared into his amber eyes. Vision blurry from the tears that streamed down your face, you saw that he felt the same. It was him. He was your soulmate, you finally found each other. You pulled him closer, sobbing into his green shirt, laughing at the same time. 

 “So it was you who cheered for me all the time, huh? Thank you, Mc.” he sobbed, kissing your forehead over and over again. Whispering “thank you”s over and over again. 

“So it was you who sent me to the YMCA during my exams.” You chuckled, forming the letters with your hand as you spelled them. A heartwarming laugh bubbled out of his throat and he hooked an arm around you, after rubbing his eyes once more. 

“My god I’m so sorry.”, he laughed, while guiding you towards his car, smiling proudly. “Now let’s wait for the ambulance, and then I’ll take you home.”

#mysme #mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #shitty longcat #inthisblogwestanthechoitwins #i really hope you like it #hehe