#I would’ve been so fucking happy if I got to play this in marching band when I was in high school

[thisisyourbrainonhyperfixation]

When I tell you I screamed. It was the first note tiktok tell me your emo without telling me your emo.

[dirtbra1n]

tagged by @aranarumei hi kiri. I copy-pasted these however from @sunnnfish because of post work laziness. hi sunnnfish

1. Are you named after anyone?

if we’re talking real person name then no. if we’re talking dirtbrain name then also no, unless you count a joke from 50% off, which I do not. I like both names just fine though

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was shedding tears over silly things last night if that counts. real big emotion crying I don’t remember actually how long ago, but probably not very. I’m a crybaby I cry all the time

3. Do you have kids? / recommend a song?

got apollo justice on the brain and in the membrane so Solitary Confinement - Darkness Theme. for when you’re feeling nefarious and willing to take all of your many secrets to the fucking grave

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

well. yes. way way more when I was younger but I think it still makes up like a sizable fraction of my speech. I do think I’m a little less of an asshole now though

5. What sports do you play/have played?

Ha ha. ah. I did ballet and other dance for a spell when I was a kid but unfortunately didn’t keep that up, but I was generally pretty fast and halfway athletic then too. didn’t do sports after that unless you. unless you want to count marching band, which I wouldn’t because we were pretty lax about it. like marching band can be very impressive and deeply deeply athletic but ours was not, which was fine because I got sick and fucked up for a while anyway. and I’m not doing any sports now in college, but if it doesn’t get cancelled* then I’ll be doing table tennis this next semester. Guess why

*several similar classes I’ve signed up for previously have gotten cancelled. massive bummer

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I guess from afar how tall someone is. up close more just expression, try to get a read on how they’re feeling and so on

7. Eye color?

also hazel :)

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I think. I can probably count on one hand the amount of horror movies I’ve watched. but then again I’m not much of a movies guy to begin with. so happy endings

9. Any special talents?

ahhhh I can clap with one hand with both hands. like both hands can clap without the other. I have gotten weird looks for this

10. Where were you born / what made you make a tumblr account?

a hospital that is not in the united states :) / my sister made one and the younger sibling follower gene compelled me to do so also. and that was. maybe 9 years ago. 2014 ish. I should be clear that I was not old enough to be making an account, or on the internet in general probably, and this is definitely a big contributor to the various things wrong with me

11. What are your hobbies?

video game slash reading slash talking to myself slash writing slash watching things when I can get myself to. I don’t leave the house. occasionally I will get into a big crossword and word search phase. I almost forgot photography That would’ve been silly

12. Do you have any pets?

two of them! a cat and dog we all collectively call them the kids even though dogs an old man. he is a human person with anxiety. cat is more dog than dog, who is as we just established a human person. they both get a photo with dramatic lighting

they are everything to me

13. How tall are you?

5’6” last I checked

14. Favorite subject in school?

when there was a good teacher then anything english adjacent. specifically with a focus on literature. otherwise. band. actually I lied the real answer is essentially always band

15. Dream job?

I don’t . have one. I know what I’m aiming for and I’m really pretty sure I’ll enjoy it but I think if we’re talking dreams like ‘I don’t have back problems nor the stamina of a grandparent’ then I’d do odd jobs I think. I’d probably be content picking up trash

as for tags @x-eins @vyathacov if you wanna and anyone else who feels like it. it’s fun it’s like a sharing circle

[suchalonelysunflower]

Over And Out (l.h)

End Up Here - Part 4

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x 5sos! Fem! Reader

Summary: A tour. A secret relationship. And rumors only grow...

Warnings: Angst, mild smut. Mentions of harassment, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, creepy men, jealousy, alcohol, cheating, fighting, sexism, and many frustrations. Language and some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 10k

Author’s Note: this is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever written, I believe. Next part will be up on March 14th. Remember that Reblogs, Fedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You have no idea how much they help me ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My Materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || part 1 || part 2 || part 3

Liked by michaelclifford, 5sosfan4eva and 1,573 others

lukehemmings and away and away we go ✈️

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5sosfan4eva THEY ARE TOTALLY DATING

↪️ calumlovesash I hope they’re not 🤢 she was much better with Madden or Josh. At least they’re famous

yn5sos I’m changing seats with Michael

↪️ lukehemmings @yn5sos 🥺

*

@5sos EUROPE ARE YOU READY?!

“I can’t believe we’re already here!” Y/N cheered as they got to the hotel.

It’s been a month on the road already and they finally had a few days to rest before traveling to yet another destination. They had the idea of doing a tour to promote not only their new singles and tease the album release that’s bound to happen next year, and it ended up being one of the most incredible ideas they had after spending almost a year without doing shows.

They started with a small tour in Europe, then they will move on back home in Australia for a couple of shows, and then the big finale in the United States where most of their shows were already sold out. By that time, the fans would’ve already listened to the new songs and be even more hyped for the new album.

Luke was the newbie on tour, this not being the first time he traveled away from home, but the first time he did it with people he cared about. He was having the time of his life with Y/N, the boys, and their s.o. It all felt like a dream. He was actually living the life of a rockstar on his summer break, even if most of the things they did they had to keep it a secret.

When Y/N invited Luke on tour there was no way he would’ve said no to her - not just because he pretty much can’t say no to her, but that’s another story.

She said she wanted to take it slow and that was exactly what they were doing. They didn’t put a label on whatever they had going on, but rather they enjoyed the moment stealing kisses and nights whenever they could.

They would sneak out into each other's rooms late at night, longing to be closer. They would spend hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, loving each other and sharing whatever was on their minds at the time. Making those moments their own amid their borrowed time between destinations. A moment for the two of them.

Luke found it weird at the beginning; hiding their relationship from the world until it became official. But these last few months he could see a change in Y/N, she seemed happier, more open to talking about her feelings and her past. He understood that this was important to her, to live a normal life until she feels ready to share it.

If time is what she needed, time is what she’ll get.

The boys and their girlfriends were all supportive. They too understood the importance of keeping some things private as well as the changes in Y/N’s behavior. They were all happy to see their friend back, just in time for tour.

But it was almost impossible to control what was put in the media. The fans already know who Luke is and that he spends a lot of time with the members of their favorite band. They speculate about his relationship with Y/N, creating rumors that even though he wants to, he can’t confirm nor deny. And when it came to the media outlets, those were much, much worse.

They didn’t say much about him “The privilege of being normal” Said Calum once. But they did have a lot to say about Y/N…

“Y/N L/N is back at it again with a new man?!”

“No tears this time? Y/N L/N Caught smiling and getting cuddly with a member of her team! Can she mix work and pleasure?”

“Serial heartthrob Y/N L/N seen with other men while still refusing to talk about her most recent break-up? Sounds fishy to me!”

“What was she thinking?! Y/N L/N was spotted in an outing with his “new friend” wearing very thin shorts and a crop top. Not so family-friendly apparently”

Horrible things were written about her every day but she ignored them as if they didn’t exist. Luke wished he could do the same.

Every little article, tweet, or comment about Y/N made his blood boil. It was clear that they were completely made up to be some “big news” when the reality was far from that and they kept disrespecting them and their relationship even if it was still on the down-low.

But Luke could not stop reading them. It was addictive how he couldn’t resist clicking on her name every time it popped out, not because of some morbid reasoning behind it, but because those articles seemed to know more about Y/N than Luke himself. People kept talking about a past he didn’t know she had. Were those made up as well? Or are they based on reality? Would he be able to know the difference?

Truth was, he couldn’t. He loves Y/N blindly, he got to know her in one of the most genuine ways but it feels like that is not enough. It’s almost like she is living a secret life he doesn’t get to know.

He wonders when it will end. This seemingly permanent stage of seating on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to turn green so they could walk freely into their relationship. Where people will support them, respect her and let them be happy. But that could never happen when she’s the one who doesn’t want to move.

Luke respects that she is not ready to talk, as she said time and time again. But he just couldn’t comprehend how she, right now, could be so at peace while her name is thrown through the mud and back. Smiling with the boys as they take pictures for promo while management arranges the check-in. Does she not know what they are saying about her or she just accepts it without any retribution?

He was asking himself all these questions as he watched her so happy, his mind tormenting him with a dark cloud over their sunny day. He wants to protect her, but he doesn’t know how or if she would even let him.

And yes, maybe that was selfish of him. Banging on a closed-door with his heart in his hands. But what about the person with the key and the lock? Aren't they a little bit selfish too?

“Hey!” He heard Kat said as she sat beside him, nudging her shoulder against his.

Luke turned to her, his eyebrow still locked in a frown as he muttered a little “hey”

The blonde girl scrunched her nose at him “Yikes, what's happening that it has you all worked up, buddy?”

Luke pressed his lips on a thin line as his eyes traveled back at Y/N. She was laughing at something Ashton had said when she turned to look at him.

Y/N smiled, winking at him as she waved. Luke stared at her for a while, a small smile playing on his lips as he raised his hand in acknowledgment. He could feel his heart skipping a beat every time their eyes met, but the dark feelings in his mind made his expression turn sour the moment Y/N turned around again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the girl sitting next to him.

“You read them again, didn’t you?” Kat asked, already knowing the answer just by looking at how his shoulders tensed the moment she asked it.

They were all aware of the tabloids and the stories, being a regular occurrence to them, but not for Luke. They all knew this was new to him as well and how overwhelming it might be. So they all tried to ground him as much as possible, not letting him get affected by it as he had before.

“Now why are they saying that?!” He spat as he threw his cellphone on the leather couch, calling the boy's attention.

It was a normal day at the studio. They were all getting lunch as they laid back in the break room while Y/N and their girls went out to get them coffee.

Calum was the first one to speak, confused by his friend's sudden outburst “Uh, what exactly? And who?”

“This!” He said, grabbing his phone and tossing it at Calum. The rest of the boys gathered around as Luke plopped himself down on the couch.

Ashton began to read out loud “Seeing the growing rumors of Y/N’s mystery man, here’s a list of every guy we wished would date her”

“Okay that’s fucked up,” Michael said, swallowing his food.

“It’s better than the last one…”

“What?!” Luke asked, outraged that there are worse things out there.

“Dude, chill,” Calum said, “We understand this is beyond fucked, especially now that you’re dating or whatever. But you getting this angry at it won’t solve anything”

“Won’t solve anything?!” He said in a loud tone “That’s my girl they’re talking about. My girl dating other guys while she’s with me!”

“But they don’t know that,” Michael argued.

Luke shook his head, taking his phone back from Calum’s hands as he started typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?! Letting them know that they can go fuck themselves” Luke answered, eyes still on the phone, a second away from pressing send before Calum snatched his phone.

“No!” He said “You are not going to out your relationship without her consent!”

“But-“

“Plus, I already took care of it,” Ashton said, holding his phone up “I tweeted at them telling them how incredibly disrespectful they’re being, now the fans are onto them and I already messaged management to deal with it”

“And that’s it?” Luke’s eyes winded “That’s all you’re gonna do?”

“That’s all we can do right now,” Ashton said with a sigh, sitting next to it “We know these situations suck, they’re horrible and dehumanizing and we are glad more people are realizing just how shitty the media is. But if we respond to every rumor there is it’s going to be a never endless battle, it’s going to backfire. We know, we tried”

“But all the stories are aimed against her” Luke said, running a hand through his face with frustration clear in his eyes “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Why do you think that is?” Michael chimed in “Think about Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears… They aim for women because they think are easy to kill”

“Which they’re not. It makes them stronger somehow. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it if I was them” Calum said “Women are stronger than you think when it comes to this, Y/N included”

“We’ve been living with this kind of shit show for years. We defended her with knives and teeth, dragging every single outlet that posted something against her. But that shit only made it worse for her”

“They loved the attention they were receiving” Ashton’s voices laid with sarcasm “Every interaction we had they profited from it, creating even more rumors, one worse than the other, just so they could have the clicks. Eventually, Y/N asked us to stop defending her publicly and she decided to ignore it altogether”

“But we still fight for her, though. We flag the post, demand they take it down, talk to PR and management for damage control, and even sue for defamation a couple of times. She’s never got to go through any of that on her own, we wouldn’t have allowed it”

“And what am I supposed to do, then?” Luke asked, a mix of frustration and desperation filled his voice “Just do nothing?”

“Be there for her” Calum answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world “Support her. Love her. Comfort her. Whatever she needs. She’s a strong woman, one of the strongest we know. But there will come a time when she will have to lean on someone, and you have to be there and ready for her. She trusts you. Don’t let her down”

Kath placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder, understanding the man’s pain.

“I just-“ He said with a sigh “She never reads them, you know? The articles. But I do, I can’t help it. They seem to know more about her than me and that’s just-“

“Fucked?”

“Yeah,” He said as he took a long breath “I don’t know… I’m trying. This is all very new to me and she’s a professional at dealing with this kind of shit. But at the same time, she never tells me anything, how she feels about them or if they’re real or not. It’s fucking me up”

Kat hummed “And I assume you don’t ask her about it either”

The girl crooked an eyebrow at Luke, seemingly seeing through him “I- I don’t want to push”

She sighed and patted his shoulder “Let me tell you something, Luke. From girlfriend of a celebrity to the boyfriend of a celebrity” She started, earning Luke’s complete attention “When I started dating Calum we decided to keep it private, out of the eyes of the media and even from some of his friends. It was good at the beginning, great even! But the heart is ambitious and it always ends up wanting more. We fought a lot during those times, part of us wanting to hold on to what we had but at the same time longing for some kind of freedom. In the end, we did end up going public, as you know. We endure a lot of hate, we still do. But we knew what we were up against, you’re still trying to figure that out. But I’m telling you to know there is something you’re lacking”

“And what is that?” Luke asked with curiosity.

“Communication” Kat smiled sweetly at him “How do you expect to reach a meeting point while you’re sitting here in your own dark cloud and she’s over there with no clue of what’s happening with you and vice versa?”

The blonde girl got up from her seat next to him, giving him one last piece of advice before walking towards Calum “Don’t give up before you try. No one said it was going to be easy but, it’s your choice to see if it’s worth it”

Luke watched her walk away, rousing her arms around Calum’s waist as she smiled sweetly at him, giving him a small peck. Luke smiled at their love.

He thought about their friends, how in love they are with their partners and how free they are to love publicly, facing the retaliations of being in the public eye. But they seemed happy, they were happy. And he realized he wanted that for him and Y/N.

His mind drifted off to the possibility of going public, cleaning the air once and for all. No more “mysterious guy” or “Y/N’s possible secret lover” he’d be Luke Hemmings, the proud boyfriend of singer Y/N L/N. They could be happier, free. They could fight those rumors together and face the stormy weather that would come. He’d defend her until the end of times, protecting her with his life and supporting her in everything she does. He wanted that for them. But it wasn’t his sole choice to make.

“Babe!” He heard Y/N call.

She was walking up to him, a playful smile on her face as the nickname rolled off her tongue. She was wearing one of his hoodies, making her look small as she approached him.

He noticed that her eyes were shining, lately, they always did and he couldn’t get enough of them. He could get lost in her eyes willingly, throwing away the map and making himself home.

He loved her. Oh, he was so in love with her he didn’t even know what to do. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was about wanting to love her freely. He just wished she thought about it too.

“I got our keys” She smiled, pulling two cards out of her back pocket.

“Oh?” Luke asked playfully with a grin drawn into his face “And where am I supposed to sleep this week?”

In order not to create any suspicion about their relationship, they decided that Luke will have his own hotel room on tour - even though everyone knows that’s not where he sleeps or where he wakes up in the mornings. Usually “Luke’s room” is used to store the extra luggage they carry.

Y/N fake pouted “Sadly, Mr. Hemmings. Your room is at the other end of the hall”

Luke gasped “That far away?! Is there any way I can be… closer?”

The girl bit her lip as she rounded her arm around his waist, standing on her tippy toes as she softly whispered in his ear “Let’s see what I can do about that, Sir”

Y/N giggled as she heard Luke let out a soft groan, pecking his cheek with a small kiss as she stood in front of him again “Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” He said, trying to get a hold of her by her waist. But she was quicker, swiftly moving a step back as she started walking towards the elevators. One last look over her shoulder got him grabbing their things as he followed her without any questions.

The elevator ride is quiet, the beating of their hearts being the soundtrack to their wait as they reached their floor. Y/N didn't look at him as she walked towards the door, unlocking it with one swift movement of the wrist and leaving it open for Luke to come in after her.

When he opened the door, she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if she hid somewhere, this not being the first time she would jump and scare the shit out of him. But then, his ears picked up a soft humming coming through the bathroom door, and with a devilish smile he let their luggage at the side of the closet, he locked the door and made his way to her.

Y/N was humming one of her favorite songs when Luke caught her reflection in the mirror but she was not looking at him. She was putting some lotion in her hands, fingers tracing up until her upper arm with barely-there touches.

“Remember we have a party in a couple of hours, Hemmings,” She said when she felt him getting closer “We should get ready soon” He just hummed in agreement, not really paying attention to her words.

Softly, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, pulling her closer to him. Y/N kept ignoring him as she dried the excess of product out of her hands and it wasn’t until Luke pushed away some of her hair and started kissing along her neck that she finally gave him a proper response to his action.

Luke smirked as he felt her let out a shaky breath as his lips traced the shell of her ear, kissing it softly before moving lower and lower, kissing and sucking on her skin as slow as he could, making her tremble under his touch.

“Luke,” She said, holding her breath as she felt his calloused hands travel under the hoodie she was wearing. His hoodie. The one that always smelt like him.

“Hmm?” He asked, not stopping his movements for a second.

“We- uhm” The girl stuttered in a whisper when his hands started touching her over her bra, softly rolling over the nipples and making them hard “We should - oh - we should start getting ready soon”

“We should, huh?” He asked, voice raspy and low “It will be rude to go a little bit late. Wouldn’t it?”

Y/N let out a sigh when his hands left her breasts, trying to regain her breath before she lost it all over again when his fingers started playing with the hem of her jeans.

His fingers wandered carefully, fiddling with the button and zipper until they weren’t an issue. His lips grazed her neck up and down, kissing it softly as his fingertips finally reached her center.

She let out a soft moan when she felt him over her panties, tracing her lips over them and feeling her arousal “I’m sure they could wait a little bit longer” He said as he pressed a finger to her clit over the fabric “We need to take care of a few problems before that, don’t you think?”

He pressed his hips onto her, a soft whimper escaping her mouth when she felt his growing erection against her.

“So wet for me, my love” He groaned as her hand flew to the top of his hair, trying to find balance as she tugged on his curls “Always so beautiful for me”

“Luke-“

He opened his eyes just in time to catch her staring at him through the mirror with a desperate look in her eyes. It took him less than a second to spin her around and press her against the countertop, ceasing his lips into her like she was his last meal on earth.

She tangled her hands behind his head, fingers deep into his hair as he grabbed her by the back of her thighs, easily lifting her off and taking her to the king-size bed where they made sure to lose track of time between kisses and moans as they satisfied their needs with each other, over and over again until they fell through the abyss of pleasure together, whispering sweet confessions as their breath went back to normal.

It was easy to say that they were the last ones to reach the lobby. What was hard for them to ignore was the knowing looks and teasing smiles from their friends that were waiting for them for a good amount of time.

“Don’t say anything” Y/N threatened Ashton as he opened his mouth. But he just laughed

“If you want Luke to walk around with his fly open then sure, I’ll keep my mouth shut”

*

The ride to the party was filled with laughter and chit-chats. They were all in a great mood to finally have a mini-break in between shows and what better way to celebrate it than at a big party?

Luke stole glances from Y/N as she talked to Bethany. She looked beautiful with her black dress, making Luke proud and a little bit snug about him being the one who would take her home afterward.

But he knew that after tonight they needed to talk. And not “talk” like they usually do. No, this time he was going to express his concerns to her, his hopes for them, and confess his love for her over and over again. He wanted her to know how he feels, he needed to know where they stand and what she needs to feel more comfortable and what he can do to help her feel at ease.

He just needs reassurance, something to hold on to while he provides the same for her. In the end, he knew they would be okay.

After a few minutes, they reached the house of the host. Luke marveled at the mansion that stood proudly in front of him. When Y/N mentioned a party with some label associates, she never mentioned that the party was going to be hosted by the president and owner of the label.

He felt Y/N tug on his hand a couple of times before separating herself from him and going to stand next to the girls.

For a moment Luke forgot that they needed to keep appearances and couldn’t be together romantically in public. He could feel his heart aching as he watched her walk away with her friends, laughing together as they stepped into the party.

“Hey,” Michael said behind him, following the eyes of the sad man next to him “It’s just one night”

He tried to be comforting, but all Luke could wonder was: Would it be just for a night?

The party was wild. That’s the first thought everyone has in their minds as they step through those doors into a world of darkness mixed with neon lights, smoke machines, and three open bars scattered around the hall. People were separated into groups: The ones who were too drunk to stop dancing, the ones not drunk enough to start dancing, and the ones who were networking their way into the industry.

Everyone that was someone was at that party. Producers, artists, songwriters, performers, agents… You name it. It was a party for the big leagues and Luke could not help but feel out of place the moment he stepped foot into the scene.

“Hey! 5 Seconds of Summer. C’mere!” A voice called over the music.

Standing not too far from them there was a man, his bald head shined under the lights as he held a drink to his lips, beckoning the band to come over.

Y/N and the guys started walking towards the man without a second to wait, leaving Luke and their girlfriends to witness the interaction from afar.

“Who’s that?” Asked Luke, getting closer to Danielle as they watched their partners laugh with a bunch of men who were now surrounding the band.

“That’s Anthony Kellinghs” She answered, swiftly grabbing a drink from one of the trays carried by the passing waitresses “He’s one of the big bosses in the industry. Ashton said his team approached them not too long ago to see if they would be interested in changing labels and work with them”

Luke glanced back to the group. Y/N was standing next to Calum, talking about something that made Anthony smile even though her face was serious. He did not like the way that man was looking at her.

Anthony laughed loudly, making other guests turn his face towards them. Y/N and the boys shared a confused gaze as they laughed awkwardly along with him. The bald man kept laughing, clearly intoxicated as he lowered his hand and rounded his arm around Y/N’s waist.

Luke’s breath got caught in his lungs as he watched how Y/N’s body movements came to a halt and her eyes widened in discomfort, her smile seemed stiff but she didn't stop laughing or talking to the guy. Luke could feel his blood boil as he watched his girl in the arms of someone else, acting like nothing was happening and that everything was fine, in front of him.

“What the fuck?” He muttered under his breath. Debating on whether he should go and punch that dude in the face. No matter how important he was in the industry, he wanted him away from Y/N immediately.

But he didn’t move and neither did Y/N. Luke didn’t know if it was because she physically couldn’t or because…

No, he rejected that thought immediately. It was clear to him by her eyes that she was desperate to get away from his touch. And apparently not only to him because the moment that man put his hands around her Ashton and Michael called his attention away from her, moving a few steps back so Y/N could have more space to free herself the moment she could. Calum had his eyes on her, too, with his arm placed to his side as if he were to take her away from there at any second.

Yet the man did not move an inch away from her. Instead, his hand trailed lower with every word he spoke, until Luke couldn’t see it anymore. All he could see what’s Y/N’s uncomfortable face as she suddenly jumped forward, fear written all over her eyes.

Luke let out a curse as he took a step forward, ready to beat that man’s face to dust. But he stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” Danielle said, eyes locked on the scene played in front of them.

Luke stared ahead and let out a breath of relief when he saw Calum taking Y/N away from the group and towards the bar, seemingly excusing themselves to get a drink. He saw how his friend’s arm rounded around her shoulders, making it impossible for her to look back and for anyone else to notice her face as they walked away with no intentions of coming back.

Luke lost sight of them as he watched them disappear into the party. “Good,” he thought “At least she’ll be safe and away from him” But that thought did not calm the rage he felt towards the creep that dared touch her in front of her friends.

“I’m going to kill him” He hissed, once again trying to step forwards but once again being pushed back by Ashton’s girl.

“The guys got it covered,” She said, her sweet voice laced with a warning as she whispered loud enough for only them to hear “They will handle it and make sure they never work with that man, ever. It’s not the first time this has happened”

“This happened before?!” Luke said, attracting some curious eyes to him. But he couldn’t care less about it at the moment.

The girls looked at each other and then at Luke. How could they explain to the man that this happens more times than Y/N would be able to admit? They knew first hand how the industry was full of creeps and disgusting men, having dealt with them in the past as well, but Y/N…

She was the front girl, the main focus of attention. She was beautiful, talented, hot… that’s all they saw, never caring about her caring personality, or how intelligent she was, how she was the driven force of 5SOS. She was more than her looks, she was a girl trying to live her dreams. But men only seem to see one thing.

“I’m going to check on them,” Kat said as she walked towards where Calum disappeared with Y/N. Bethany mentioned going to Michael to try and make them get away from the conversation they were still having with that fucker.

And Luke stood there, not able to do anything “Y/N wouldn’t want you to cause a scene, that’s why the boys never do it anymore. She knows how important image is for all of them and a scandal is the last thing they need right now. Especially if some “random dude” goes and punch one of the biggest names in the industry”

Danielle was right and he hated that. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to defend his girl because she didn’t want to be defended. But the fact that she knew how to handle these kinds of things didn’t make it any less wrong or difficult for him to ignore. More so because their relationship was still kept a secret.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe if people knew they were together, things like these wouldn’t happen. After all, the only thing men like Anthony respected was the presence of another man.

Ashton and Michael returned after a minute, both of them with their jaws clenched and eyes filled with the same feeling of powerless Luke felt.

“Where is she?” Ashton asked, standing beside Dani and holding her close by the waist, almost as if he were scared something might happen to her.

“Kat went to check on them, they still haven’t returned,” She said, comforting her boyfriend by running her hand up and down his arm.

“This is bullshit” Luke murmured, frustration lacing his voice as he grabbed one drink from one of the waitresses and drowned it in one go without flinching. He turned around and started walking away from the group.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked, half concerned and half furious from him walking away at this moment.

“I need air” He answered as he took another drink and walked through the garden doors. Not even sparing a glance back when Y/N called his name as she watched him go.

Luke spent most of the night going back and forwards between the main hall and the garden. He drank whatever was being offered to him and sat down on a bench as he watched the casual smokers come outside, accompanying him from a distance.

He knew he was being childish. He didn’t understand much about the industry, nor how people that worked in it were. All Luke knew was that Y/N was nothing like them; she was not greedy, nor was she a creep, she wasn’t evil or ill-hearted and she didn’t deserve what happened.

He wanted to be with her, apologize for his shitty behavior, and tell her that he loved her. Because he did. He loved her with all his heart and it hurts him to see her like that. But every time he stepped through those doors back to the main hall - every time more intoxicated than the others - she was nowhere to be found. Or she didn’t want to be found, but that didn’t stop Luke from looking for her.

And every time, wherever he found her, she would have company. Sometimes she would be with the boys and their girlfriends laughing along with some other group of people - usually men - that stood a little too close and personal with her. Other times she would be on her own, talking to some guy or girl he didn’t know, too preoccupied with her conversation to even notice Luke standing at a distance, looking at her with longing eyes as he tried to find the courage to talk to her.

Then, he would go back to the bar, order his drink and go back outside or with the group, tightening the grip on his glass as he watched the girl he loves being swept away in conversations he couldn’t be a part of, after all, he was just one of the composers and her friend. Nothing else.

The guys and their girlfriends tried to cheer him up, including him in conversations and inviting him to dance. They knew how new this was to him, having to remind themselves every once in a while when they caught his sad eyes dancing across the room on the looks of his fleeting love.

“She came looking for you a few minutes ago while you were outside,” Dani told him the third time he came by the group.

“Why didn’t she go out with me?” He asked, eyes on Y/N as she talked to Michael and one of the producers they met in London a few years back.

“She was going to,” Ashton chimed in “She walked over there but I think Niall caught wind of her and they started to catch up”

Luke clenched his jaw at the thought of Y/N with other men. His mind couldn’t help but to go back to all those articles about her exes, her possible new partners, her possible future partners. Cheating scandals, break-up songs, parties where she didn’t leave alone… All the things she refused to acknowledge came to the surface, hitting Luke in the face as he realized that they might not all be lies.

He hated to think about her that way, to think that he didn’t trust her enough or that she didn’t trust him enough or whatever the fuck was wrong with them. But as he saw how Y/N hugged a stranger, all his thoughts went out the window.

“Who is that?” He asked no one in particular.

“Who?” Bethany asked in response, following Luke’s stare towards her friend “Oh, that’s Josh”

“Josh? As in Josh Benthlow? Her ex?”

Beth furrowed her eyebrows as she saw the look of pure rage on the blonde’s eyes “Uh, yeah? But you got something wrong there” She said, “They never dated”

Y/N laughed at something Josh said, pushing him playfully on the shoulder as he kept telling his story. Luke recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same way he used to look at Y/N when they first met: Pure adoration. And, he didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his system that was making him see things that weren’t there, but he could swear he saw Y/N flirt back at him.

“Friends don’t act like that” He spat, taking another sip from his drink, already losing count of how many he had that night.

“Hey!” Beth called his attention, taking the drink from him “That’s enough now. Alcohol is making you act like a complete asshole”

“I-”

“I don’t care.” She said, interrupting whatever he had to say before he even said it “Look, I get that you’re getting used to all of this. But you need to stop with the jealous act right this instant. She’s famous, yes, they all are and that means that you will have to share her with the world whether you like it or not. It’s her dream after all, and besides Y/N would never do something like that to hurt you and you know it”

Did he?

Not long after the group decided to go back to the hotel, having already stayed at that party longer than necessary given that they have a show the next day. The ride back was quiet, everyone either being too tired to even speak or too smart to try and cut the tension that was being created by the new couple’s behavior. Even when Y/N sat next to Luke he didn’t acknowledge her, keeping his eyes looking outside the window the whole car ride.

Y/N was one of the first ones to get out of the car, walking up to the elevators and not waiting for anyone as the doors closed.

Luke clenched his jaw as he contemplated not going to their room tonight, fighting with the feeling of not wanting to see her and the feeling of never wanting to let her go.

“You need to go there right now,” Calum said, taking a step next to Luke but not looking in his eyes “Having been her friend for so long I can see that she’s upset… Nah, fuck that. Even idiots can see that she’s upset”

Luke scoffed “She’s the one that’s upset?” Voice laced with sarcasm.

Calum hummed “Guess not every idiot can see that” He pressed the button of the elevator and hoped in with Kat, not waiting for Luke as the door closed in his face, but not before saying “You’re not the only one hurting, you know?”

It took another 20 minutes for Luke to open the door of their room. Again, Y/N was nowhere to be seen, but the light coming from under the closed bathroom door let him know that she was there.

He sat at the edge of the bed, hands covering his face as he now wished he hadn't drunk as much as he did. His head was spinning, he couldn’t decipher if it were because of the alcohol or because of his intrusive thoughts that wouldn’t leave his head.

Y/N got out of the bathroom for what it felt like an eternity later. She was wearing her Spongebob pajama and her hair was tied in a messy bun. Her makeup-less face looked tired as she didn’t glance at Luke before sitting by her side of the bed.

They stayed in silence for another five minutes before she decided to speak.

“Are we going to talk about tonight?” She said, voice neutral of any emotion.

Luke scoffed “Now you want to talk?”

She ignored him “I didn’t see you all night, Luke. I was worried”

“Oh, you were?” He mocked with cruel sarcasm as he got up from the bed and started pacing around the room “Funny way to show it you weren’t around!”

“I wasn’t around?! Luke, you spent half the night outside! Every time I came over you were nowhere to be found!”

“And every time I was there you were too busy talking to other people”

“I was working, Luke!” She said with a groan, massaging her temple as she turned to look at him “It’s part of my job to make connections at these kinds of events. And if you didn’t notice, Calum, Ashton, and Michael did the same”

“Well, you must be pretty damn good at your job then!”

Y/N looked at him, shocked by the way he was speaking to her “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke was angry at her question. How could she not know? “Why don’t you ask Josh what I mean?”

“Oh my fucking GOD,” She said with the loudest tone he’s ever heard her talk “That’s what this is all about?! He’s a friend!”

“I was a friend, too and we still fucked!” Luke matched her tone of voice, probably waking the people in the room next to theirs.

Y/N laughed humorlessly “You have no right to-”

“And whose fault is that? Huh? Whose fault is that I cannot call you my girlfriend in front of other people? Whose fault is that I have to stand to the side and watch you flirt with every guy on earth just because “it’s your job”?” He asked “Y/N, I’m trying so hard for you to let me in and the only thing you do is push me away! Are you embarrassed by me in any way?”

“No,” She said, finally meeting his eyes and seeing no more anger in them, just an incredible sadness for both of them “No, of course not”

“Then why?” Luke asked, taking a step towards her and cupping her cheek with one hand “Why can’t you let me protect you? Why can’t I be with you freely? I know some things are hard for you to talk about, love. I get that. But I’m drowning here, not knowing what to think or what to say to make you trust me”

Y/N stayed quiet as she looked into his eyes before looking away. Luke sighed.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. But we’ll have to do it eventually”

“I know,” She said with a string of voice.

“Sorry for the things I said”

“I’m sorry, too”

Luke wanted to kiss her, to comfort her. Even though he is still mad at her, he still has this need to protect her from the wrongs of the world. But she’s got to let him in first.

Instead, Luke placed a kiss on her head and walked towards the bathroom to get changed for the night. When he came back Y/N was already asleep on her side of the bed, her back turned to Luke’s side.

He let out a sigh as he turned off the lights, laying down facing the other side as he murmured a “Good night” Barely missing the soft sniff she gave in response.

The next morning Luke woke up without her by his side. He felt a tug in his heart as he remembered all the things he said to her, the cruel way in which he implied that it was all her fault when both of them had a bit of blame to put in their names. He wouldn’t be surprised if in the middle of the night she decided to leave and sleep somewhere else.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, ready to give her a call and apologize properly, hoping she’d pick up. But just as he was about to press the call button, the door opened.

Y/N walked in, sandwich and orange juice in hand. A small smile came to her lips when she saw him already awake.

“Hey,” She said softly, almost like if there were someone else in the room that was sleeping “You missed breakfast, so I bought you this. It’s now much but-“

“Thank you,” Luke said with complete honesty.

Y/N nodded, walking up to his nightstand to place the drink and the sandwich. But before she could walk away again, Luke grabbed her softly by the arm.

“Luke-“

“I’m sorry,” He said, his baby blue eyes looking into hers. He was sad to see no emotion in them compared with how shiny they were yesterday before the fight “I didn’t mean it”

Y/N let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to him “No, you’re not” She said almost resignedly “And yes, you did. And it’s okay, I deserve it”

Luke shook his head, feeling even worse than before “No, Y/N I was out of place and-“

“You were, but that didn’t make your words any less than truthful. I hurt you, Luke. Even without wanting to” She said with a broken voice, but the tears didn’t come “But I want to change that. Tonight, we can talk after the concert. Okay?”

“I don’t want to pressure you” His hand flew to her face, placing a strand of hair behind her back. She smiled softly and kissed the palm of his hand.

“I know, but I want to” Finally, she got up from the bed and started walking into the bathroom, gathering some of her things. “We’ll start early today with some interviews and sound check, and the girls wanted to go shopping so they’ll meet us there. I will send a car for you before the concert and then we’ll talk. Alright?”

She grabbed her back and headed towards the door, giving Luke one last look and a soft smile before she left.

Luke didn't forget how she didn’t kiss him before she closed the door.

*

The day passed by and Luke was still in their room. He sat in front of the table with his notebook and pen, writing up words that, at that moment, reminded him of her.

He didn’t like how they were acting with each other. How quick everything went to shit after last night’s mistakes when words were louder than actions until those words became apologies.

Y/N said he didn’t mean his apology, and deep down he knew it to be true. He regrets the way he told her, admiring that he would have handled things a little better than he did. But he meant what he said about her pushing him away by not communicating. They were both trying but apparently, they sucked at it.

Truth was, there was no one to blame. Truth was, they were both at fault. And, truth was that he would still fall to his knees for her the moment she asked. Because he had never loved someone as much as he loved her.

When the time of the concert was almost upon him, he quickly jumped into the shower, ignoring all the beeps and rings of his phone as his thoughts and hopes filled his mind. He thought about what he was going to say to her, and he hoped that they could finally get past this and leave this whole situation behind; to start over and just be free.

He was putting on his shirt when his phone started beeping again, finally checking it to see what the fuss was all about.

Thousands upon thousands of notification flooded his screen, and they all said the same thing:

“Y/N AND MADDEN BACK TOGETHER?!”

“THE ENCOUNTER OF THE YEAR! MADDEN BANKS AND Y/N L/N SEEN TOGETHER AGAIN TALKING ON THE OUTSIDES OF THE VENUE”

“OMG Y/N X MADDEN SHIPPER REJOICE AS THE COUPLE SEEMS TO HAVE REKINDLED THEIR RELATIONSHIP AFTER CHEATING SCANDAL”

Luke felt as if an elephant was standing on top of his chest, losing his balance and falling to the bed with his phone in hand, unable to look away from his screen. 

His breathing became elaborated as his eyes filled with tears as he read the tweets and article titles. He knew he shouldn’t click on them. He knew. And yet…

“Lead singer of the band 5 Seconds of Summer, Y/N L/N was last seen talking to her ex-boyfriend, Madden Banks, in a secluded alley outside the venue where the band is going to perform their concert tonight. 

We last saw the couple last year around August when Madden announced their breakup after cheating scandals came out to the surface. None of the parties made any comments about it, but it was set to believe that Y/N was the one who committed the mistakes after a set of tweets on Bank’s personal account where it said that he was feeling “broken-hearted” by the situation and he hoped no one had to get through that ever again. 

Now it seems that the past is the past! As Y/N and Madden were caught by paparazzi talking again, and by the looks on both their faces it seemed like their relationship was not over after all! 

We are still waiting for confirmations from either of them but congratulations to the couple ❤️”

A set of pictures were attached to the article. All of them of bad quality and from questionable sources. 

On the first one, you could see Madden smiling with Y/N’s back facing the camera. On the second one, Madden was closer to her, almost cradling her face as if to kiss her. The third picture had Madden pointing out the paparazzi, a surprised expression plastered on his face as Y/N appeared out of focus. The last picture had Y/N walking away with Madden following behind, both of them with angry faces seemingly for being interrupted. 

Luke was gripping on his phone tightly, a sense of rage coming over him as he wiped his tears furiously and walked up the door. Turning off his phone before he could read Y/N’s message:

Y/N: it’s not true! Let me explain…

*

He did not go to the concert that night, nor did he stay in their bedroom, opting for sleeping in the room that was originally assigned to him. 

His emotions walked him into a bar last night, letting him drown his sorrows in alcohol as he slowly drifted away from his senses. He doesn’t remember getting to the hotel, but he does remember not wanting to be with her that night. Feeling betrayed and used, what was the point? 

It was pretty late when he woke up the next morning, too late for Y/N to even be in the hotel knowing that they still needed to do a lot of press before traveling to their next destination. It was sufficient to say that he was not going to go with them. 

He was about to book a flight when he noticed his phone died while being turned off last night. He was in such a rush that he forgot to bring his charger with him, but he felt confident that it was safe for him to go back to her room now that she was gone. He would pack all his things and leave, he was not about to endure any of this shit anymore, no matter how much it hurts him. 

When he opened the door to her room, however, Luke noticed that he was not alone. 

“You didn’t come last night” 

Y/N was standing by the window, looking at the street through the thin curtain, hoping she might catch a glimpse of Luke walking back to her. She was wearing the hotel’s robe and had her hair tied in a ponytail. Her voice was fragile, tired, and broken as if she spent all night crying. 

“Good,” thought Luke “at least we’ll both be miserable” 

Luke didn’t answer that, instead, he just asked “I thought you’d be doing the press tour” 

She shook her head, her back still facing him as she sniffed “I couldn’t go. I didn’t know where you were” 

He would’ve thought it was touching and he might’ve felt bad for her if she hadn’t shattered his heart the night before. So he said nothing. 

“I needed you last night, Luke,” She said, voice a little firmer as she finally turned around. Luke’s heart ached when he saw her delicate figure, she looked sick, pale, and tired. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red from all the crying. Part of him wanted to go to her and hold her, but her betrayal was still too fresh on his skin.

Luke scoffed “Sure you did” He didn’t intend for his voice to sound with such malice, but it was almost as if his tongue had a brain on itself “Was Madden not enough?” 

“Stop,” 

“Is he here?” He asked, voice mocking interest as he walked around the room “C’mon Asshole!” He called, opening the closet doors and walking into the bathroom “You won, motherfucker, you can have her! It’s not like it’s hard anyway” 

Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks turning pink at the realization of the insult “Luke!”

“Was this part of your plan?” He asked, turning towards her with nothing but the rage inside his eyes “To bring me here to make him jealous? To make me fall for you so easily? Is that why we never went public? Ha! Should’ve known you just wanted a free pass to whore around while still making sure you have a secure fuck waiting back at the hotel” 

Y/N froze. Not even Luke could believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he was too far gone in his own anger to process them or to take them back. 

“This is the part where you apologize,” She said, eyes filling with tears she refused to spill. 

“No, this is the part where I tell you to fuck off” Luke spat, taking a step towards her, not realizing how she flinched as she took a step back “You know, I tried so fucking hard for months to make you happy. And every day I read those fucking articles that were talking shit about you and every fucking day I told myself that those weren’t real. That you weren’t like that… surprise, surprise! Looks like the cat is out of the bag. Makes sense! That’s why you never wanted to talk, you never wanted to admit to what you did because you never take any fucking responsibilities for the damages you cause! I thought I knew you, at least some parts of you. Turns out everyone is right about you. Every fucking word of it” 

He turned around, ready to grab his things and go, but the adrenaline was kicking in and he just couldn’t stop.

“Tell Madden that he’s an idiot for taking you back,” He said with his back turned to her “That he should’ve left your cheating ass alone. Let you get what you deserve”

“I never cheated” She mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. 

He scoffed “Yeah, right” 

“I never fucking cheated!” Y/N raised his voice, making Luke turn around to face her. Her face was red with tears and she had her fist clenched to her sides, knuckles white from all the pressure she was putting in.

“I never cheated on Madden! I never fucking cheated on you! On anyone! He cheated on me, repeatedly and with several people for all the course of our relationship! I never touched a person outside ANY of my relationships. I have been nothing but faithful to you and now you’re throwing that shit at me without knowing an ounce of my side of the story?! 

You want to know, Luke, why I never tell the story as it was? Why it’s so fucking hard for me to tell the story even to the people I love?” 

It was a challenge, he knew from the look in her eyes that she was not going to stay quiet any longer. She didn’t even wait for his answer. 

“I was fucking abused, Luke! Physically, mentally, sexually… you fucking name it! During that whole relationship. Want me to tell you the details or you could figure it out yourself?! I was getting beaten almost daily! I had to hide the bruises and cuts in front of the guys as they slowly watched me fall apart. I had to lie to them for YEARS because I genuinely thought he loved me. He said he did so I believed him. It wasn’t until one night where he got too far that I had to tell myself that it was enough. But what could I say? I was so fucking embarrassed I couldn’t go to the media that calls me a liar every chance they have! I couldn’t go to the police because he has money and could easily get away with it! I was so fucking alone until I met you and… You took his side” 

Luke felt like his heart was taking a punch with every word that she said. Every tear that fell off her eyes was like a knife in the back. The guilt was eating him inside out, crashing into him like a tsunami. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, he shouldn’t have let his emotions take the reins, he should’ve... He felt all of his emotions turn to mush, all but shame as he stared into her eyes knowing he was the one who fucked up. 

“Y/N-“

“I needed you last night when he cornered me. I needed you by my side as I broke down backstage because you weren’t answering your phone. How do you think I felt when I came into our room and found it empty? I was ready to tell you everything and then you just decided that wasn’t worth it anymore. That I wasn’t worthy anymore. All without giving me a chance” She cried, shattering sobs running through her body as she remembered the feeling of hopelessness she had “Not only that, but I come to find this on your side of the bed”

She threw his notebook at him, he didn’t need to open it to know what she read. Already regretting leaving it there. 

“Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late-night devil, put your hands on me

And never let go” 

She recited the words by memory, having read them over and over again as she waited for him to come back.

“Is that really how you see me, Luke?” She asked, voice broken as she looked into his eyes. 

Luke felt his body tremble with shame as he looked at her. He has never seen her look so sad and fragile before, the smile he loved so much was gone and he knew he might never see it again. He wanted to scream that that’s now how he saw her at all. Those words were written out of frustration, out of anger. He wanted to tell her that she’s the most amazing, loving, strong, intelligent person he know but... how could he even look her in the eyes?

He knew that he went too far. That he should’ve given her a chance to explain what happened instead of just letting the media fill his brain with lies; lies he believed without question because of his insecurities. He broke the strongest girl he’s ever known, but she was still standing. 

Despite the hurt, he caused her, she was still standing in front of him. Demanding answers he doesn’t know how to give. Still being so much braver than him.

“Y/N, I-“ He began, voice breaking as he was left speechless. How could he ask for her forgiveness now that he broke every ounce of trust she held for him? 

“Luke, I think you should leave,” She said, rounding her arms around her torso as she looked back at the window. Unable to hold her gaze to him any longer. 

“No,” Luke begged of her. Pleaded, even “Y/N, baby don’t-“ 

“Leave” She repeated more firmly “If I’m such a monster, the best thing we can do is for you to go home” 

She turned her back to him once again, and he knew that he had just lost the battle he was too scared to even fight.

Y/N cried silent tears as she heard him gather his belongings and pack his bags, feeling as if she might collapse into the floor if she weren’t holding herself too tightly. If she concentrated, she could hear him cry, too, until he closed the last of his bags and walked through the door.

Because, after all, he would still go to the ends of the world if she asked.

.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-ash​ @alltimesos @kingxnichole @givebuckyhisplumsnow @hufflehemm @girl-toxxic

[quillsandtypos]

Our Stars Collided- Part 4 (2/2)

Summary: As the reader finds herself joining an on the rise ghost band, she quickly makes friends with the bassist. But how long can she keep herself away from the lead guitarist?

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: tickling and more sexual tension

Pairing: luke x reader, brief mention of willex

I had too many text blocks so I had to split this in two parts

...........................................

You wished you could say that the following three days flew by, but it felt nowhere close to it. As a result of the two of you needing to wait until the next weekend for your prank, Reggie and Luke had taken this to stage as many pranks as they possibly could. You couldn’t even walk around your house without potentially setting off a booby trap. So far you had walked into plastic wrap, had glitter exploded all over you, ate toothpaste, and not to mention the countless times Luke had popped in and scared the daylights out of you at school.

Luke had stayed true to your agreement on your bedroom being a peace ground, but it seemed like Julie was not nearly as lucky.

She came to stand beside you at your locker and she did not look happy. “They are so going to regret fucking with me,” Julie hissed.

Julie occasionally cussed, but it wasn’t that often that it was directed at people, so whatever they had done must’ve really pissed her off.

You sighed. “What did they do now?”

“They had alarms going off in my room at two in the morning.” You turned to her to see a glare in her eyes that might’ve killed them if they weren’t already dead.

“Wait, plural alarms? Like how many?” you nervously asked.

“Like enough that I’m almost certain they had to rob a store. I didn’t know I even had that many hiding places in my room,” Julie huffed.

“Well you know what they say, people who set alarms get scared.”

Julie’s glare faded to a puzzled but amused look.

“No one says that,” she retorted.

You shrugged. “Well now I do, come on we gotta get to first period before we prank the hell out of those losers.”

By the time school was out you were practically bursting with excitement about your plans later that evening. You kept your cool and rehearsal went smoothly. You came home and showered before texting Julie that you’re parents, while they were a little confused on why you were going to her house at two in the morning, had agreed to let you stay the night.

Around midnight you went downstairs to make yourself a coffee since you were running a little low on energy.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you put things back into your fridge, and you headed back to your room. You watched netflix for a bit before packing your bag and heading to your car. You quickly pulled into her driveway and turned off your headlights. Luke and Reggie weren’t currently in the studio; Alex had managed to get them away for five minutes so you could pull into the driveway without raising any suspicion. He just had to make sure that when they poofed back that all of them poofed into the studio so they wouldn’t know you were there.

You went to knock at the door but Julie opened it before you could.

She quickly motioned for you to come inside.

“You ready?” you burst out.

“Yes! Here I’ll show you where my room is,” she excitedly explained. As you entered her room it felt like you were being comforted by the energy that Julie gave off. The room was perfectly decorated to show every part of who she was.

“Oh, you have to try something!” she suddenly remembered.

“What?” You were still looking around the room.

She pointed. “Jump onto my bed and lay on it.”

You gave her a nervous side eye. “Didn’t Reggie get in trouble for doing that?”

She lightly wacked your arm, “That’s because he’s not supposed to come into my room without knocking.”

“Funnily enough, he chose to leave that part out of the story,” you chuckled.

Julie chuckled with you and crossed her arms. “Okay, now go!” she insisted.

You figured why not, so you took a running start at her bed before jumping and landing softer than you were expecting.

Oh my god, was her bed soft. It was like you could just melt into it and with the fuzzy blankets on top of it you felt like you could fall asleep right there right now.

A noise interrupted your comfy hazy thoughts.

You opened your eyes to see it was Julie snapping.

“See, was I right or was I right?” she teased.

“Maybe,” you sleepily admitted.

“Come on.” She pulled you off her bed, “we got a prank to set up before Alex gets back.”

The two of you marched down to the studio and made light work of your set up. You place a speaker right by the door, hidden in Alex’s drum set. Another one in the loft, one by the piano and one above the door. You placed your pepper shaker and your sign right in front of the door, and you set up the blanket that would drop over top of them. In the past week the three of you, with the help of Alex’s boyfriend, had managed to build a holding system that would drop once a tiny string was pulled. Once everything was set up. You chose your position behind the couch, and Julie chose the corner where the plants were. Now all that was left to do was wait. You gave her a thumbs up from around the corner and she motioned it back to you.

A couple of minutes later you heard a couple poofs in almost unison. They had landed right where you wanted them to; the show was about to begin.

“Wait, guys did either of you two do this?” Alex gestured towards the piece of paper on the ground. Of course, Alex knew exactly who wrote that, but his acting was all a part of your grand scheme.

Reggie looked curiously at the piece of paper and reached down to pick it up. “It says I know your secret,” he told them.

“That’s weird, we don’t have any secrets, ya know apart from my secret hidden talent on the banjo,” Reggie grinned.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not it,” Alex sarcastically responded.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it has to do with the fact that we’re ghosts, Reg,” Luke commented.

A lightbulb went off in Reggie’s head. “Oh yeah, that would make more sense,” he realized.

“Wait, what’s that?” Luke nervously asked. He pointed to the jar next to the note.

“It’s a pepper shaker.” Reggie picked up the jar and shook it side to side for emphasis.

Luke seemed to calm down as he released a breath.

“Guys?” You would’ve thought Alex had seen a ghost if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he was acting.

“Yeah?” Luke questioned.

“Do you remember the movie ghostbusters?” Alex looked at them with wide eyes, and Reggie suddenly backed up.

“Do you think they’ve found us?” Reggie fearfully asked.

Luke looked a little nervous. “Guys, it’s probably just Julie and y/n pranking us,” he suggested.

You instantly got a little nervous that your plan was going to fail, but Alex was quick on his feet.

“Why would they be pranking me? I’ve been on their team,” Alex argued, while still staying in character.

Luke seemed visibly pale when he realized Alex had a point, Reggie looked like he was about to pass out.

Julie took their moment of fear as the perfect moment to set the rest of your plan into play. The speakers all mimicked the wind, but not exactly the peaceful kind, more like the kind just before a storm hits. The boys were all holding onto one another as they tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. As the sound played you quickly reached out to grab the pepper shaker and you placed a different paper slightly farther away. You got back behind the couch just as Julie made the wind stop.

“What’s happening?” Reggie trembled in fear.

“Guys, where did the pepper go?” Alex pointed to the now empty floor

“Oh no, we’re gonna die,” Reggie cried out.

“Reg, we’re already dead!” Luke yelled back.

“Oh right, yeah,” he remembered.

“So this is probably gonna be worse,” Luke shuddered.

“Oh no,” Reggie groaned. He gripped his friends tighter.

“What’s that?” Luke looked over at your other paper.

The three of them waddled over to your piece of paper and as they leaned down to read it you hit the button that would drop the blanket on them.

As soon as he felt something touch him, Reggie screamed and hit the ground. Luke let out a high pitched yell before trying to jump back, but he was accidentally pulled to the ground by Reggie. You and Julie attempted to pop out of your hiding spots and move over to them but you were both rolling on the ground laughing hysterically, so Alex poofed over. Reggie was frantically trying to get out at the same time as Luke, but they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere so Alex lifted the blanket off of them. Reggie and Luke tumbled onto the floor.

“What, just, happened,” Reggie panted.

“You just got pranked,” you said before high fiving Julie, and Alex.

Luke was in disbelief. “You were in on it the whole time?” he asked Alex.

“Yep,” he said proudly.

“You should’ve seen your faces,” Julie laughed.

“Oh no, what’s that on the floor,” you mocked Luke. He scowled at you, but he couldn’t hide the slight smile on his face.

Reggie continued to pant for a minute to try to get his heart rate down, but eventually he did. “I have to admit, you guys got us pretty good,” he crossed his arms and smirked.

“Thank you Reggie, you know I might just forgive you for betraying me,” you added dramatically.

Alex squatted down towards Luke. “What about you, are you gonna be a sore loser?”

Luke grinned, maybe a little too evilly in your opinion.

“No, you guys win,” he admitted. He offered Alex a high five, and before you knew it Luke had pulled Alex to the ground and was wrestling him. Since you couldn’t do much to help your teammate, you just watched as Alex got pinned to the ground.

“Luke don’t do it!” Alex threatened.

“What? This?” Luke mockingly asked. He pulled one of Alex’s arms up and started quickly playing guitar on his armpit.

Alex’s scream could’ve rivaled Reggie’s earlier one as he instinctually brought his legs up. The situation at hand was rather cute. You, Julie, and Reggie watched fondly for a moment as Luke continued tickling him.

But after a little while, Reggie figured Alex had had enough. “Alright, Luke let him up,” Reggie told him.

He reluctantly did but not before swiping a finger across his neck. Alex snorted and giggled.

“See, this is why we don’t betray our friends,” Reggie playfully warned him.

You loudly faked a cough, “Says someone who betrayed a friend.”

Reggie looked so offended, you were almost worried he didn’t know you were kidding.

“So what do you say Luke, are you willing to admit you were defeated?” Julie teased.

Luke rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “You guys won,” he admitted.

“What was that? I don’t think you said it loud enough,” you egged him on.

Luke stood up to be face to face with you as his focus landed entirely on you. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You wanna end up pinned too?” he threatened. His smirk was infatuating and also somehow infuriatingly hot.

“Good try, but you can’t touch me,” you reminded him.

He took a step back “I guess you’re safe then for tonight,” he concurred, but the fire in his eyes had not dulled.

You turned around to see Reggie suddenly turn the other way, but then you looked towards Julie.

“We should probably go to bed shouldn’t we?” you suggested.

“Probably,” Julie sadly agreed.

You weren’t too happy about it either, but it was nearing four in the morning, so you said your goodnights to the guys and headed up to Julie’s house. You both quickly fell asleep in her soft, cozy bed.

timE

You woke up at around noon, which was not all that surprising considering the time that you went to bed. You looked over to see that Julie was already awake, since she wasn’t there. You put on a sweatshirt over your pj’s and headed down the steps.

“Hi, y/n!” Ray greeted you.

“Hi Ray!” you enthusiastically responded. You hadn’t spoken with Ray a lot of times, but all the times that you had were quite pleasant.

“What are you girls up to today?” he asked, as he looked at something on his laptop.

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me, I’m looking for Julie,” you explained.

“Oh she’s in the living room,” he pointed.

“Thanks!” you called out.

You plopped down on the couch right next to her.

“Goodmorning,” she yawned.

“Morning,” you responded, biting back your own yawn.

“So what are we doing today?” Julie looked at you.

“Right now I’m just waking up,” you laughed. You sat in a comfortable silence for a while as netflix played in the background.

“Do you wanna make chocolate chip cookies?” you suggested.

“Like right now?” Julie was slightly surprised.

“Yeah.”

She shrugged and smiled, “Sure!”

You read off the ingredients as Julie grabbed them from out of her kitchen, since she knew where everything was.

“And chocolate chips is the last thing we need,” you spoke, as you put the list down.

“Did someone say chocolate chips?” Carlos chirped as he walked in.

“We did, but they're not for you,” Julie quipped.

Carlos pouted, “You’re no fun.”

Julie scoffed. “But we’ll let you have some after we’re done,” she offered.

“Mhm, seems fair. Julie and Julie’s friend, I will see you later,” he announced as he walked out of the room. You had to smile at his antics.

“You’re brother seems nice,” you commented.

“Oh, he is, he’s just also my brother, and a dork,” she explained.

“That’s usually how brother’s go,” you agreed.

She agreed and moved to start putting ingredients together, and within the next twenty minutes your cookies were ready to go in the oven. The oven beeped to let you know it had reached its heat and you slid the cookie pans into the oven. The two of you just hung out in the kitchen and chatted as you waited for them to cook, you even started coming up with ideas for your next gig. Halfway through your conversation, your timer beeped.

“I’ll get it,” Julie offered.

As she pulled them out of the oven the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies filled the air. They were almost perfectly done, they were golden brown, and just slightly brown on the bottoms.

Just as you were putting them on a cooling rack Luke came through the door.

“What smells so good?” he questioned.

“We made cookies,” you gestured to the rack in front of you.

“They look so good,” he groaned.

You felt a pang to your heart, as you remembered he couldn’t eat anymore.

“I’m sorry Luke,” you apologized.

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he tried to play it off like he wasn’t bothered, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that he was.

Julie spoke up, “You guys wanna go watch some youtube on the tv?” she suggested.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Luke?” she asked.

Luke shook from his daze, “What? Oh, yeah,” he also agreed.

You grabbed a couple cookies on your way out, you handed a couple to Julie. The three of your settled in on the couch, with you in between the two of them. You weren’t really paying attention to the video but you also weren’t necessarily paying attention to what was happening around you either. It was probably a part of staying up till four in the morning you figured. But as you almost dozed off you realized with a start that someone had snatched your cookie from you hands. Your eyes jolted open to see that Luke was holding your cookie.

“What are you doing?” you groggily asked.

“I’m snatching your cookie,” he quipped. He leaned forward to look at Julie. “Did I use that right?”

“Yep!” she assured him, though it wasn’t without a small snicker; which, he chose to ignore.

He leaned back into the couch rather smugly.

“Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke,” you whined.

“What?” he pretended to be innocent.

You did not have the energy to think of a witty remark right now.

“Can I have it back?” you pleaded.

“What’s the magic word?” he tauntingly asked.

“Give me my damn cookie back Patterson,” you threatened.

“Wrong answer!” he yelled. He plopped the cookie in his mouth without a second thought. Every single time time they had tried to eat food it just went right through their mouths before they could chew it, it would come out fully untouched and unmarked. So Luke was very surprised when the cookie did not leave his mouth. He went to bite down on it and he could taste it and all of its goodness.

“Julie!” he exclaimed.

“What?” her eyes were glued to the screen.

“Look!” he yelled.

“Luke I don’t wanna see the food in your- oh my god you can eat!” she realized halfway through her sentence.

“I’ve gotta get the guys!” he announced before poofing out. Seconds later he poofed in with the guys.

“Here just try them,” he coached Reggie and Alex.

Reggie and Alex both took a timid bite before shoving the whole rest of the cookie in their mouths.

Reggie’s eyes were massive, Luke had a laser like focus, and Alex looked like he was in a whole other realm. Julie and you just stood in the kitchen as they proceeded to eat almost two batches of cookies. You couldn’t really blame them though, especially since they hadn’t eaten in twenty-five years.

“How did you guys manage to make these?” Alex questioned.

“That’s the thing, we have no idea why ours are special,” Julie admitted.

“I can tell you why, it’s because you guys are amazing,” Reggie said, with a mouthful of food.

“Thanks Reg, but I doubt that’s it,” you reasoned.

“I bet it is,” Luke argued.

“Luke I don’t think-” he cut Julie off.

“What if this has something to do with you two being the only ones who can see us? And because you two are the ones who made this, and you have the ability to see us, it makes the cookies be edible to us?” Luke theorized.

You thought for a moment.

“That would sort of make sense,” Julie thought out loud.

“Right? It’s kinda how like our music is attached to our souls and your abilities would be attached to you and everything that you do,” Luke ecstatically explained.

“So what I’m hearing is that y/n and Julie can make us actually be able to eat?” Reggie questioned.

“Yes, were you listening to any of that?” Alex asked.

“No, I was mostly just thinking about how good these cookies are,” Reggie admitted.

“I-okay,” Alex left off.

“So what I’m hearing is that you guys will maybe make stuff more often, please?”

You looked at Luke who was pouting and making the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Glancing over at Julie, you could tell she felt bad for them too. She nodded at you.

“Alright, I suppose I could come over more often to make things,” you agreed.

“Yes!” Luke cheered.

“Thank you!” yelled Reggie.

“Thanks guys.” Alex looked over at the two of you appreciatively.

“But you do have to help with the messes!” Julie added. It only slightly dampened their spirits. But in no time, the kitchen was spotless, and the five of you headed back to the studio and hung out until you had to leave.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej

[hstyleshoney]

flawed - h.s

AU she has a new roommate and he’s not the worst 

Wordcount: 13K // slow-burn fluff with a small hint of angst and mutual-ish pining I suppose, strong language, alcohol use, sexual content

AN: This is my little College/Uni AU piece for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration writing fest! And I got carried away. I’ve had the start of this in my drafts for like two years and this challenge kind of just got me motivated to finish it. I’m really happy with some parts of it and some I’m not so sure about...I hate endings... BUT I had really fun writing it and that is all that matters and hopefully someone will enjoy it. I’m just happy I managed to finish it after such a long time. I’d also really really appreciate some feedback on it so please share your thoughts! I don’t have too much experience writing like this so be nice pls haha. ENJOY! <3 

“Harry, you left your dirty dishes by the sink...  AGAIN!  Dunno how many times I have to remind you to clean up after yourself Put it away. Thx. :)”

Y/N took a deep breath to calm herself down and re-read the pink post-it note infront of her. He was going to be the death of her. He really was. Harry was in every other way the perfect roommate, well perfect was perhaps a bit excessive but he wasn’t the worst, except for the fact that he never took care of his stupid dirty dishes. It drove her mad. It took all her willpower to not smash his stupid little kermit the frog teacup into tiny little pieces whenever she saw it.

And yes, maybe it was irrational of her to get so worked up over a few dirty cups when everything else was going so well. But Y/N liked it when things were in order.

In the past two months that she had lived with Harry she had lost count of how many times she had asked him to wash up his used pans, plates and cups. The first time it happened she didn’t really mind. The second time -- also fine. But the third? That was when she started to get a little bit bothered. Because not only was it his dirty dishes from the same day. No. The plate and cup from the day before were still there on the counter as well. That was the first time she asked him to clean up after himself.

It was still fine though.

Y/N just told herself it was because Harry had previously lived in a student accommodation with a bunch of unruly boys and wasn’t used to picking up after himself. It was fine. He’d soon get it.

Only, he didn’t seem to get it.

Because weeks later she still had to remind him to wash up after he was done in the kitchen. It was like what she said to him went in one ear and out the other. It took her another week before she started suspecting he was leaving it out on purpose to irritate her, which well, it worked. It only annoyed her further.

The amount of tea that boy drank was truly worrying. She had been told she drank a lot of tea, but she seemed to have met her match in Harry. At least judging by all the cups he left around the flat. They were everywhere. Literally. She had even found one under the bathroom sink just a couple days ago and she didn’t even bother asking him how it got there. She had simply just left him a post-it note asking him to put it away.

Because she was certainly not going to go around and pick up after him. He was a grown boy and therefore capable of cleaning up after himself. She wasn’t his mother.

It was basic housekeeping.

She ripped the little pink post-it note off the pad and stuck it up on Harry’s bedroom door so he couldn’t possibly miss it. She stared at it for another minute, pleased with herself, before getting her backpack and left to go to her lecture. It was her own way of telling him off; leaving post-it notes for him. A more passive-aggressive approach had always been her preferred strategy, it made her feel slightly less annoying, and anytime she had left him a note in the morning the dirty dishes had magically disappeared when she came home later.

So there was no reason for her to stop leaving them for him.

--

Apart from that Harry really was the best roommate she could’ve asked for. The best one in the short amount of time she had had to find a new one anyways. Lexi, her very good friend from home and roommate before Harry, had decided to drop out of uni a week before courses were due to start again after summer; leaving her alone with a flat she couldn’t afford on her own. Y/N couldn’t be mad at her though because she knew how unhappy Lexi was in Manchester. She wasn’t enjoying her course and she missed her family. Y/N couldn’t force Lexi to stay just because she didn’t want to find a new roommate. She wasn’t that selfish.

It just wasn’t ideal. Everyone she knew already had a place to live and she was feeling pretty defeated about the whole thing. She liked her flat and didn’t want to give it up. Her parents offered to help her pay rent until she could find someone to live with again but she didn’t want to take her parents money. It didn’t feel right. So when her friend Lucy mentioned that her boyfriend Nate had a friend who needed a place to live she offered the mysterious man Lexi’s old room without a second thought.

Then Harry showed up outside her door two days later with a large suitcase and a couple of moving boxes.

They didn’t really talk all that much their first week of living together. He mostly kept to himself, trying to get settled in and get used to being back at uni after a long summer. All she knew about him at that point was that he was the same age as her and that he was studying music. Something she probably would’ve figured out sooner or later on her own, because every evening she could hear him play his guitar from inside his bedroom. She couldn’t complain though. It was quite soothing actually, and she wanted to tell him that.

But she also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable knowing she laid awake listening to him play and then stop because he didn’t want her to eavesdrop.

So Y/N never said anything.

Their second week of living together was when she picked up on his annoying habit of leaving the kitchen a mess. It was also that week he offered to make her a cup of tea for the first time and she would never admit it outloud but it was probably the best cup of tea she had ever had.

But since he left his own cups all around the flat she also refused to tell him that.

By the third week they started having dinner together and asked each other about their days. They were slowly getting to know one another and Y/N realised for the first time that she did in fact enjoy Harry’s company. That Sunday they spent the entire evening binge watching the first season of a scandinavian crime drama on netflix and shared a tub of ice cream.  

Then they were suddenly in the same group of friends.

Because with Lexi gone Y/N started hanging out with Lucy more and Lucy was dating Nate and Harry was always hanging out with Nate. Which all just led to Tara, Declan and Connor always being around as well. Their flat had, since Harry moved in, turned into the hotspot for the gang to hang out at. She didn’t mind much, because she liked them and she had never really been a part of a group like them before. It was nice. Lexi moving had in a weird way been a blessing in disguise.

So there really wasn’t anything else to complain about when it came to Harry as a roommate.

Well, maybe one more thing.

And she usually met that reason every Sunday morning in their kitchen after a night out.

That Sunday however took a different turn than what she had gotten used to.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend!”

“Harry,“ Y/N said slowly and narrowed her eyes at him. The girl next to them, whose hair was dyed a rich red color, was only clad in one of Harry’s old band t-shirts and stared at the two of them with frantic eyes.

“Y/N, babe, I’m so sorry,” Harry said and stared at Y/N pleadingly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on!?” The red-haired girl demanded and crossed her arms over her chest and Y/N could’ve sworn she did a little stomp. “You told me last night that you were single!”

“Yes Harry, I’d love an explanation,” Y/N said and mimicked the redhead by crossing  her arms over her chest. She probably would’ve laughed if the situation had been any different because the stranger in the kitchen was glaring at Harry with such a hatred in her eyes and Y/N had never seen a girl look at him that way before. 

And it was still funny, but it would’ve been funnier if she wasn’t a part of it. Harry on the other hand only ignored the angry girl and kept the lie going, focusing on his roommate.

“Love, I’m so fucking sorry. It didn’t mean anything! I swear, I was drunk and-”

“Ugh, oh my god,” the redhead cried out, interrupting him. She was fuming and her face was as red as her hair. Before Y/N had the chance to say anything else, to resolve the situation, the redhead stepped forward and slapped Harry across the face. “You’re such a fucking asshole!”

Then she turned around and Y/N’s first instinct was to take a step back because that was how intimidating she looked with her red wild hair and red cheeks. But Y/N, very unexpectedly, found herself being embraced in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry! I swear I had no idea. He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. You deserve so much better! Leave him.”

And just like that the girl was gone, marching back to Harry’s room to get changed into her own clothes again, and left the two of them alone in the kitchen. Y/N at loss for words and Harry rubbing the side of his face.

It didn’t take very long before the sound of the front door being slammed shut echoed through the flat and made the walls around them shake.

“You’re disgusting,” Y/N muttered then and walked past him to put the kettle on. She had a headache from all the wine she had consumed the previous night and whatever it was that had just happened hadn’t exactly helped her feel any better. She had only wanted a nice cup of tea, and maybe some toast. She had definitely not been prepared, nor expected, to be part of a terrible made-up triangle drama. Not this early.

“Aw, c’mon,” Harry laughed and finally let his face break out into a grin. “I’ve tried to get her to go home all morning but she wouldn’t take any hints. I had no choice.”

Y/N turned her head to glare at him and pointed a warning finger in his direction

“If you bring a girl back you get rid of her yourself. I want no part in your disgusting shenanigans,” she told him. “You deserved that slap.”

“I didn’t even say anything to her,” Harry said and hopped up to take a seat on the counter. “She just assumed.”

“Why would she even assume that?” Y/N asked and eyed him suspiciously “If I was your girlfriend I wouldn’t randomly appear in the kitchen the next morning in my pyjamas. You must’ve told her something.”

“I didn’t,” Harry denied and put his hands up, still grinning. She rolled her eyes. “I swear! She just assumed.”

“Yeah well, you shouldn’t have let her,” she told him and took out two slices of bread to put in the toaster. “Besides, do you have to bring a girl back every weekend?”

“Do you have to go on like five dates a week?”

“I don’t,” she glared at him again. Harry raised his eyebrows at her knowingly and she looked away from him as the next few words left her lips. “It was only three this week.”

“Oh right,” Harry laughed. “Excuse me.”

“Shut up.”

“At least I’m getting something good out of it,” he continued to laugh. “I still don’t understand why you have to go on so many dates all the time. What do you get out of it?”

“I wanna find love,” she shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“No, not at all,” Harry told her. “But dating douchebags ain’t gonna bring you love.”

“Yeah because sleeping with someone new every weekend is so much better,” she replied sarcastically and watched as Harry slid down from the counter when the kettle made a small noise to let them know it was ready.

“Like I said,” he started with a smirk and took down two tea cups from the cupboard. “At least I get something good out of it. You should try.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t say anything else as her toast popped up from the toaster. Her dating life was a running joke among her friends and she had learned to ignore the comments they made. She wanted to find love, so she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it. Some may say she was a bit desperate, and maybe she was, but it wasn’t her fault every guy she met was wrong for her. They were all either too clingy or too uncommitted.

Or maybe she was just a bit too picky.

Either way, she did go on a lot of dates when her schedule allowed her to. She wanted what everyone else around her seemed to have. Her parents acted more in love with each other every time she saw them, even after 30 years of marriage. One of her sisters had just gotten engaged to her long-term boyfriend and her oldest sister had been married for three years already and was expecting her second child. Her younger cousin got married that summer. Any time Y/N traveled back home all her relatives asked her when she was going to find herself a nice young man. It was exhausting. Y/N was stressed. Pressured. So she dated a lot. There was nothing wrong with that, yet people liked to mock her for it, especially Harry since he was the one who she came back home to after a bad date.

He’d usually burst into her room after a date, wanting all the details only so he could laugh about everything that had gone wrong. But then he also always made her a cup of tea and got her some biscuits.

He wasn’t the worst.

“Hey,” Harry said and held out the tea he had made for her. “You wanna watch an episode of The Bridge?”

Y/N stared at him for a second and for the first time ever her heart skipped a beat. It was no secret that Harry was unbelievably attractive, the kind of attractiveness that terrified you before you got to know him. If he hadn’t showed up outside her door she never would’ve had the guts to talk to him. After getting to know him though he was just Harry; her roommate.

But there was something about him right there and then, dressed casually in sweats and a plain t-shirt as he handed her a cup of tea in their kitchen, that just got to her. She quickly snapped herself out of her thoughts to stop her mind from wandering too far and took the tea from him. Must be the hangover.

“Sure, but only one episode,” she replied and picked up her plate of toast as well. “I have to read some shit for my seminar tomorrow and I can’t keep procrastinating.”

--

They ended up watching more than just one episode.

And Y/N never got around to reading the chapter she needed to read. She only skimmed through it on her way to her seminar, which is why she made a fool out of herself when the lecturer pointed straight at her and asked her to share her thoughts. She wanted to disappear.

And her day didn’t get any better when she stepped in dog shit on her way home.

And it certainly didn’t get any better when she accidentally knocked over her cup of tea and spilled it all over the rug. So instead of getting to lie on the couch and feel sorry for herself, like she had planned, she had to try and save the white rug from getting a stain. It wasn’t a great day.

It was also at that moment Harry came back home; when she was sitting on the floor, scrubbing the rug furiously and muttering profanities under her breath.

“You know,” Harry began to make his presence known. “There’s something about what you're doing right now that’s really turning me on.”  

Y/N stopped her scrubbing and looked up at him, not impressed by his joke or by the stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh fuck off,” she swore and simply raised her hand and her middle finger at him. “Or make yourself useful and get some baking soda or something.”

“Bad day?” he asked while putting his guitar case down. She only glared at him.

“What do you think?”

“I’ll just get the baking soda.”

“Good choice.”

They cleaned the rug together and after a good half an hour of scrubbing and googling the best tricks to remove tea stains they managed to save it from getting ruined. Y/N slumped down on the couch again, exhausted and defeated, and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down.

What a shit day.

Harry made her a new cup and put away everything they had used to get rid of the spilled one before joining her on the small couch.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked and squeezed his brows together, uncertain how to approach her.  

“I just had a shit day,” she sighed deeply. “Completely fucked up my seminar.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Ha!” Y/N scoffed. “No, I did. But it was my own fault though, so I can't really cry about it.”

“Well,” Harry scratched the back of his head. “Can I do anything to make you feel better? We could get some pizza and watch a movie or something?”

“I can’t,” she grumbled. “I have an assignment I have to finish by Wednesday and considering how shit I did today I have to focus. I can’t fuck this up too.”

“You have to eat something though.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll just heat up some of that leftover pasta later or something,” she assured him and maybe if she hadn’t been so frustrated with herself she wouldn’t have confused the way her heart was racing inside her chest with stress; when in reality it was beating extra for the green eyed boy next to her.

Y/N stayed in her room for the rest of the afternoon into the evening, reading and typing away. She wouldn’t say it was going well, but she didn't want to throw her computer out the window and she always appreciated those rare moments.

She could also hear Harry roaming around in the rest of the flat and later on the low strum of his guitar. She smiled to herself when she heard it and didn’t even realise she was humming along to the melody he was playing until he stopped.

And it wasn’t until her stomach growled loudly that she remembered she hadn’t actually had any dinner yet. She made sure to save her work, hitting ‘save’ an extra time because you could never save a document too many times, before closing her laptop and standing up. Her muscles ached from how long she had been in the same position and she winced a little as she stretched them out.

Then her stomach rumbled and she was once again reminded of how hungry she was. It was nearing 11 pm and she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, which was not good, and she kind of regretted not accepting Harry’s offer about getting pizza before.

But when she made it into the kitchen there was a pink post-it note on the fridge, only this time she wasn’t the one who put it there.

I got some pizza earlier, saved you a few slices in case you want some instead of that old pasta xx H :)

A warm feeling spread through her body as she read his little note, and she couldn’t help but notice that Harry had a surprisingly neat handwriting. It was cute. Both the handwriting and the message. It put a smile on her face.

While the pizza was being reheated she decided to go find Harry and thank him for the nice gesture. She was just about to knock on his door when she noticed that the TV was still on and she spotted him on the couch.

Asleep.

And it was probably cuter than both his handwriting and the message combined.

His whole body took up the small couch; his legs dangled over the armrest and he had his arms crossed over his chest to make himself smaller. There was a slight frown on his face, presumably from the dream he was having, but it was endearing in a way to still see him so relaxed. He had changed out of the blue jeans he had worn last time she saw him and had on his black shorts and the knitted jumper he always just wore around the flat. He looked comfortable. Homely.

A part of her wanted to run back to her room and get her phone so she could snap a picture of him before he woke up.

But an even bigger part of her stopped her from doing so because it felt inappropriate to take a picture of him sleeping. She wasn’t so sure Harry would appreciate her taking pictures of him without him knowing either. So she refrained.

Then, almost like he could feel her watching him sleep like a total creep, he slowly blinked his eyes open, and honestly... it was probably the cutest thing yet. She blushed as he caught her staring.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice low and rough, and rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “What time is it?”

“Mm it’s about 11.”

“Shit, didn’t realise I fell asleep,” he grumbled and sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Did you finish your assignment?”

“Almost,” she told him and smiled softly. “Thanks for the pizza.”

“No worries,” he said and matched her smile.

“Also, I’m sorry for being so cranky before. I was just a bit stressed.”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “We’ve all been there.”

Y/N ended up joining him on the couch for a bit after the pizza was done. They didn’t talk much while she ate and Harry flicked through the channels on the TV, before he eventually decided on an old romcom. 

When Harry had first shown up outside the flat she had been nervous about living with him. She had only ever lived with girls before, but it had been easier to get along with him than she had first expected. Not that she had heard anything bad about him; Lucy had nothing but nice things to say when she first told her about Nate’s friend who needed a place to live.

She had just assumed it was going to be harder to live with a boy compared to a girl. But Harry made it easy, aside from the dirty dishes and the unknown women in her kitchen Sunday mornings of course, and he was slowly becoming one of her closest friends. While it was terrifying it also felt like the most natural thing. Like he was meant to be in her life.

Which is why she felt so stupid for what happened next.

“They make love seem so easy in these romcoms,” Y/N complained with a huff. “Why don’t I have a gorgeous guy pining after me? I just want someone to have a secret crush on me and then make a big grand gesture. Is that too much to ask?”

“How do you know you don’t?” Harry questioned and she snorted.

“I highly doubt it. Who would that be?”

Harry shrugged.

“Who knows,” he said. “It’s kinda the point of having someone secretly crushing on you, innit?”

“Oh whatever,” she grumbled and Harry laughed. “You have no say in this. I see the way girls stare at you whenever we go out. You probably have a handful of secret admirers. ”

“Are you forgetting the fact that you go on more dates than the rest of us combined?” Harry pointed out and raised his brows at her. “You probably have more admirers than anyone else I know.”

“Not true.”

“So true,” Harry insisted. “You need to stop trying so hard and maybe just let love find you instead.”

“That’s probably the most cliche thing someone has ever told me,” she said and rolled her eyes. “What am I supposed to do then? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs and wait for someone to come knocking on our door and say they love me?”

“No, not at all,” Harry frowned. “I just think that maybe you need to open your eyes and take a step back. Lower your expectations and don’t be so picky. You’re not going to find Prince charming. No one is flawless.”

“You know what? It’s too late to be having this conversation,” she told him and stood up. There was something about what he just said that made her heart sink a little inside her chest. “I’m going to bed.”

“Hey, you okay?” Harry said and caught her wrist to stop her from leaving. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s okay,” she said and swallowed thickly. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” His hand was hot on her skin and she couldn’t take her eyes away from his long fingers and how he traced his thumb across her wrist in small circles. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

He really didn’t. Y/N wasn’t sure why she had suddenly gotten so upset; why she took what he said to heart. It made her feel like a brat almost. She was used to people making fun of her dating life but she didn’t like this. 

She didn’t want people to think she was shallow or impossible to please. Especially not Harry.  

Because that wasn’t the case. There were plenty of good guys out there and she was far from perfect herself. She had a lot of flaws. Y/N had just never clicked with anyone in the way she wanted to and she wasn’t going to get into a relationship with someone she didn’t feel she connected with one hundred percent.

“Okay,” Harry said with a heavy sigh and let go of her wrist. “Goodnight then.”

“Night.”

Harry still had a frown on his face as he watched her take her plate back into the kitchen and Y/N could feel her pulse racing as she felt his eyes on her. It was awkward and she was embarrassed for how she had just handled everything. It wasn’t even a big deal. He hadn’t said anything she hadn’t thought of herself before. Harry was just giving her advice. 

So why did she feel so upset? 

It was the first time she had ever gotten even the tiniest bit self-conscious about the amount of dates she went on, and as she crawled into bed she couldn’t help but wonder if she felt like this because it was Harry.

It was also the first time she realised she cared a lot about what he thought of her.

She wanted Harry to like her.

--

Y/N got her period a day later and just like that everything she had felt on Monday made so much sense. Of course. Luckily everything was completely fine between her and Harry the morning after she left him on the couch and they even baked some brownies Tuesday evening because Y/N was craving chocolate, which also made sense when she woke up with stains in her underwear and cramps in her lower region on Wednesday.

Despite that though she had quite a good day. She managed to finish her assignment in time and she didn’t hate it; she was maybe even a little bit pleased with it. She bought herself a new pair of sneakers that were on sale and an eyeshadow palette she had been wanting for a while. Her and Harry got chinese food for dinner before meeting the rest of the gang down at the pub.

Wednesdays meant quiz night and Y/N teamed up with Tara and together they managed to win first prize which gave them £50 to spend at the bar.

Y/N blamed the alcohol for everything that happened after that.  

She tripped on her way over to the toilets. She accidentally managed to somehow elbow Connor in the face. She also spilled half a pint of beer all over herself, leaving a huge wet stain on her trousers so it looked like she pissed herself.

But she was still in good spirits.

Until she spotted Harry at the bar with a tall gorgeous girl. Their faces were close and even from the booth she was sitting in she could see his dimples. It left a sour taste in her mouth watching the pair talk and it annoyed her how easily Harry once again had a girl swooning over him. Why was he even off flirting with some random girl when they were all supposed to be there together? And why was he so good at it? And why did he look so good doing it?

Y/N rolled her eyes when the girl giggled and reached out to touch his bicep. Disgusting.

“Hello?” Lucy snapped her fingers in front of Y/N’s face. “You still with us?”

“What?” She tore her eyes away from the scene that was taking place at the bar and turned her attention back to her two friends. “Yeah, of course.” She faked a laugh and took a long sip from her beer. Lucy and Tara shared a look, but they didn’t say anything else about it which she was thankful for.

Mostly because she had no idea how to explain any of it. She glanced over at Harry and the girl again and tried to understand why her chest suddenly felt so tight. It must be the alcohol.

And oh, right, of course, she had her period.

It was her hormones; the only logical explanation.

Satisfied with the answer to her own confusion she threw herself back into the conversation around the table, ignoring the fact that she could still see Harry and the girl in the corner of her eye.  

Then Declan showed up at their table with a round of vodka shots for everyone because he knew the bartender and got them for free.

Who was she to say no to free shots?

But she really should’ve.

The strong liquid didn’t sit right with her and instead of giving her a bigger buzz her head felt heavy and her ears were ringing. She also felt a little bit sick; the chinese food she had had with Harry slowly rising in the back of her throat. Taking shots had never really ended well for her but drunk Y/N still always seemed to think it was a fantastic idea.

It was a good thing she didn’t have a lecture or anything the next day, because her hangover was not going to be pretty.

And Y/N didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone before she unexpectedly jumped out of her seat, got her coat and stumbled outside. She needed fresh air and she couldn’t wait.

The second she stepped outside into the cold autumn night she instantly felt better. The nausea from the stuffy pub atmosphere disappeared and she sat down on the curb next to the road and took a few deep breaths. 

“Hey there Quiz-Queen, you alright?”

Harry.

She glanced up at him and even though he had called her by the nickname she had jokingly given herself after winning first-prize he was looking down at her with concerned eyes. Her purse hung from his shoulder, she hadn’t even realised she had left it behind, and he had his own long and vibrant plaid coat wrapped around himself; protecting him from the cold.

“Yeah,” she said and took another deep breath. “I just needed some air.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed, relieved she was okay. “Maybe next time let the rest of us know where you’re going and don’t just get up and leave.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not at all,” Harry assured and shook his head. “Just want to make sure you’re safe. I don’t think that £50 bar tab was the best thing for a lightweight like you.”

“Oiii,” she pouted. “That’s mean. You’re just jealous you didn’t win. How many right answers did you guys get again? 6 out of 20?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about having fun,” Harry said with a smug smile and a twinkle in his eyes that he only ever got when he thought he was being clever. “And I had fun.”  

“Oh give it a rest,” she scoffed but there was still a smile on her face. “You love to win, don’t stand there and pretend to be a good loser when I know how competitive you can get.”  

Harry laughed and she felt butterflies come alive inside her stomach as she watched his dimples appear. This time for her and not for some stupid girl at the bar.  

“C’mon Silly-girl, let’s get you home,” he said, ignoring her comment about him being a sore loser, and offered his hand to help her up. His fingers were strong around hers and her skin was tingling as she watched her own hand disappear in his.

Once back up on her feet she had to hold onto Harry for a second to stop her head from spinning so much. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol anymore or her hormones... or if it was merely just because of Harry.

It was just easier to blame the alcohol or her period, so that’s what she did.

Harry had an arm around her to support her swaying body as they made their way over to the bus stop, holding her close to him. He smelled like beer and the shampoo she always secretly sniffed when she took a shower. It was something she would never admit out loud, or sober, but she loved the smell of it.

Sometimes she had considered using it on her own hair, it was just so fresh and relaxing, so Harry, but it was also one of those things she wasn’t so sure he would appreciate her doing. 

“We should’ve stopped to get some food,” she muttered and slumped back against her seat on the bus. “I’m starving and I’m craving something salty.”

“I can make us something when we get home,” Harry offered.

“Really?” Y/N perked up. ”Could you?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit hungry as well.”

“Oh my gosh, have I ever told you you’re the best roommate?”

“Pretty sure you haven’t,” Harry laughed. "I do, however, have a lot of post-it notes that one could argue suggest the opposite."

“I saw you talking to a girl earlier. She was very pretty.” It slipped out before Y/N had the chance to think twice about it. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me now and didn’t get to go home with her.”

Harry didn’t laugh at that but he still had the same twinkle in his eyes as before and a fond smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and suddenly his hand was on her knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze; causing her hormones to act up again so her heart skipped a beat. “You’re not the worst person to be stuck with.”

--

As expected her hangover wasn’t pretty the next day.

She woke up with a raging headache and an upset stomach. After Harry had made them both some food she had been too tired to go wash her make-up off so the girl staring back at her in the bathroom mirror had black mascara smudges all around her eyes and golden glitter eyeshadow smeared across her bloated face. It was a tragedy. She was a tragedy.

However, the thing that made her hangover feel even worse was when she walked into the kitchen and saw the all dirty pans and plates from her and Harry’s late night meal. Pangs of guilt instantly swept through her. Harry was already gone by the time she woke up. He had an early seminar, which she knew he did because he had told her before they met up with the others at the pub, and she felt terrible that she had kept him up half the night only to make her food. He couldn’t have gotten more than two hours of sleep and it filled her up with guilt.

So much guilt she didn’t leave him a post-it note telling him the kitchen was a mess, because that would’ve just been super fucking rude since it was her fault he was even in the kitchen cocking at 3 am in the first place. Instead she washed up and decided to go out and get his favorite snacks as a thank you, and also because she was craving more chocolate and a fizzy drink.

Being hungover while having your period was really not the best combination.

Y/N hid her tousled hair under a beanie and put on a quick layer of foundation in an attempt to cover up her blotchy skin. It didn’t really help her feel much better about her appearance so she decided to put on a scarf as well to disguise herself as much as possible, just in case she’d run into someone she knew on her way to the store. She didn’t want to be recognised. Not today.

But of course Y/N wasn’t that lucky.

She ran into three people from her course, who all stopped her and chit-chatted to her about their seminars and latest assignment, all while she stood there with a basket full of various brands of crisps, drinks and candy feeling and looking like an absolute troll.

And that wasn’t even the worst.

No.

Because naturally it was also the day she bumped into someone, quite literally, in the stairs on her way back up to the flat.

Y/N yelped and accidentally dropped her bag of snacks as she tried to find her balance. A pair of hands caught her by the shoulders before she fell backwards and when she looked up to see who she had crashed into her whole face turned red.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” she apologized with wide eyes, her heart beating fast inside her chest.

“No worries,” the man in front of her said and removed his hands from her shoulders, but she kind of wished he hadn’t because his voice was so deep and smoky her knees weakened as he spoke.

Not to mention he had the most stunning pair of eyes she had ever seen. They were a deep, earthy brown color with perfectly long eyelashes she could only ever dream of. He was utterly breathtaking with his long dark hair, scruffy stubble and nose piercing, that she usually didn’t really like on boys but the stranger in front of her made it work. Oh how he made it work.

And as he leaned down to pick up her bag for her she caught a whiff of his fragrance and her knees were seconds away from giving up all together.

“Thank you,” she managed to croak out as he handed her the bag full of snacks and prayed he hadn’t seen what was in it. She looked pathetic enough as it was and she racked her brain for something else to say but there was nothing. Y/N was left completely gobsmacked by the breathtaking man she had just crashed into. Her cheeks only getting hotter and hotter for every second she stood there like a total idiot just staring at him in awe. “I’m Y/N.”

Y/N wanted nothing more than to just sink through the floor in embarrassment. The stranger, thankfully, reached out and shook her extended hand with an amused smile on his lips.

“Luke.”

Luke let his eyes wander up and down her body, taking in her attire, and she had never felt so unattractive as she did in that moment. Why didn’t she at least take a shower before going out? Fuck.

“Right,” she nodded and reached up to adjust her beanie a little, as if it was going to make her look any better. “So eh... do you live here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

What was she doing?

“I do,” Luke confirmed. “I moved in a couple days ago.”

“Awesome.”

Awesome? Fucking idiot. 

She was definitely losing her mind. While she did go on a lot of dates she had not been blessed with the ability to make small talk. 

“I’m guessing you live here as well?” Luke asked and ran a hand through his hair to push back a couple of strands from his face. It was the hottest thing she had ever seen.

“Yeah,” Y/N confirmed, her mouth dry, and she licked her lips nervously. “I’m on the top floor... aaand I should really get going. My roommate is waiting for me.”

“Of course.”

“It was nice to meet you though. Welcome to the building.” Her heart was still racing. “Again, I’m sorry for crashing into you.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. It was good to meet you too,” Luke told her and gave her a small wink. “See you around.”

And Y/N didn’t know how it happened but a strange cackle escaped her lips as he winked at her and she ran off before she could witness his reaction to it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered to herself all the way up to her and Harry’s flat.

Once she got inside she fell back against the door and tried to catch her breath, from both practically running up five flights of stairs and the encounter she had just had with probably the hottest man alive.

She really was pathetic.

After she got herself together she shrugged off her coat and pulled off her stupid beanie, cursing herself yet again for not taking a shower before going to the store. She could at least have put on a cute outfit. But no. She went out looking like a slob.  

And as she sauntered into the flat she realised that Harry was home again, and with him were Nate, Lucy and Connor as well. 

“Well if it isn’t the Quiz-Queen herself,” Nate teased when he saw her and bowed his head mockingly from where he was sitting on the couch. “Glad to see that you’re still alive after last night.”

“We have a new neighbour,” Y/N informed them, ignoring Nate and his teasing comments, because the new neighbour was the only thing on her mind. “I crashed into him on my way up. Literally. I made a complete fool out of myself.”

“Nothing new then,” Connor joked.

“Ha-ha,” Y/N said dryly. “For real though, he was the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He was unreal.”

“Really?” It got Lucy’s attention and she perked up from where she was sitting on the couch with Nate. “What did he look like?”

“Like a damn model right off the runway,” Y/N groaned and collapsed in one of the armchairs. “I’m telling you, he was unreal. Eyelashes that went on forever. Tall. Cheekbones that could cut glass and his hair was soooooo shiny. He didn’t have a single flaw. He even made a nose piercing look good and you know how I feel about those.”

“Aw, I wanna see him too,” Lucy pouted. “Did you get his name?”

“Luke.”

“So our serial dater has another date then I’m assuming,” Connor sniggered.

“I wish,” Y/N replied with a sigh. “I could hardly get a word out. I just stood there and stared at him like a creep.”

“You could always go over and ask to borrow a cup of sugar,” Nate suggested and wiggled his eyebrows. “And then just suck him off to return the favor.”

“You’re an idiot,” Y/N said and raised her middle finger towards him. It also earned him a slap on the arm from Lucy as she scolded her boyfriend. Connor laughed and made a comment about how it would be the perfect porn scene.

And it was also in that moment Y/N realised Harry hadn’t said anything since she had joined them. She glanced over at him where he sat in the armchair across from her and frowned. He looked tired and it caused the guilt in her to rise up again. In addition to that it troubled her that he wasn’t saying anything about the new neighbour or joining in on the jokes. He just sat in his seat and kept his eyes glued to the TV and the random show that was airing. “Harry?”

“What?”

There was something about how he spoke and how he turned to look at her that made her feel even worse. His voice was taut and low. His eyes burned right through her. It was far from the Harry she was used to. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but she also didn’t want to do so in front of the others if they hadn’t noticed it themselves.

“Um, I got some snacks if you want some,” Y/N said instead. She wasn’t sure if the others had noticed at all but she didn’t like it. Maybe he was angry with her for making him stay up so late? What if it had made him late for his seminar?

“Thank you,” he replied half-heartedly and turned his attention back to the TV without another word. Confusion filled the room and she met Lucy’s baffled expression for a split second. Okay they had noticed. Fuck. Y/N looked at Harry again and there was so much she wanted to ask him but at the same time she was at a loss for words. It wasn’t like him to be so tense. Not one bit.

She didn’t like it.

--

On Saturday they were all, once again, out getting drunk. After her hangover on Thursday Y/N had told herself she wasn’t going to drink again that week, but Harry was still being acting weird around her so she was easily persuaded.

Because she needed a drink.

Harry hadn’t really done anything, which was also part of the problem. She hadn’t seen him all Friday or Saturday, not until he turned up for pre-drinks at Connor’s flat. And once he was there he didn’t even look at her or talk to her. It bothered her. A lot. She hadn’t had the chance to ask him what was wrong and nothing was making sense. She tried to remember if she had said something inappropriate to him on Wednesday, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t figure out why he was being off with her.

Which is why, after a couple of drinks, she took the first chance she got to confront him about it.

She spotted him alone at one of the tables inside the club they were at and marched right up, ignoring the people she accidentally bumped into on her way, and plopped herself down on the leather sofa next to him. The beer she was carrying spilled over in her hand as she did but she paid no attention to it and Harry looked at her with questioning eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” Y/N wasted no time. The music was loud around them and she had to lean into him to make sure he heard her, his curls tickled her upper lip from how close she was. Harry only shrugged.

“Nothing is going on.”

“Oh really? Could’ve fooled me,” she said, almost shouting because of the music, and rolled her eyes. “You’re acting strange.”

“Nothing is going on,” Harry repeated and pursed his lips, looking away from her. Y/N tilted her head forward, to force him to look at her again, and waved her hand in front of his face.

“Look at me then,” she cried out in frustration. “Stop ignoring me and tell me what’s going on!”

It wasn’t the best spot for them to be having a conversation. A couple of people from the tables around them looked over curiously and the dim lights and loud music of club made it harder than what she would’ve liked. She had originally planned to talk to him that morning but he had gone out before she even woke up and it was the last sign she needed to know that he was avoiding her. So talking to him at a busy club felt like the only option. 

She flinched back as Harry unexpectedly turned to face her, almost knocking his head into hers.

”You know for wanting to find love so badly you’re really fucking blind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N frowned. Harry scoffed.

“You’re so oblivious,” he began. “If you just stopped being so desperate and so obsessed with finding the perfect guy for one damn second then maybe you’d-” Harry stopped himself and pressed his lips together in a thin line as he looked down at the beer in his hands. 

“Then what Harry?” she demanded, and didn’t even bother to try calm the anger that was stirring inside her. Harry ignoring her made her feel worse than she ever could’ve imagined. Nothing could’ve prepared her for it. She hated it. “I wouldn’t be so unlovable?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t,” Harry warned. “You know I would never say that. Don’t be daft.”  

“Do I?” she kept challenging him. The alcohol in her bloodstream gave her enough courage to not back down. Even if the loud music made it harder to hear what the other one was saying there was no way she was going to drop it. She needed to know what was going on. She couldn’t go another day with Harry ignoring her; she was too used to having him around for him to just cut her off.

“Yes, you do,” he spat.

“But you think I’m desperate?” she spat back and Y/N wasn’t sure why she was picking a fight with him in the middle of a full packed club, but she was.

Because at least he was talking to her.

“Yeah I do,” Harry admitted and licked his lips. She struggled to breathe a little after that. Her chest felt too tight. “Why are you so set on having the perfect relationship? No couple is perfect.”

“Lucy and Nate are,” she stated, not wanting her facade to falter in front of him. Her throat was dry but her eyes were burning with wet tears because she hated this. She hated it so much.

“No, they’re not,” Harry sneered loudly. “Both of them are far from fucking perfect. Nate is a menace and Lucy is a nutter.”

“Harry, don’t be a dick.”

“What? So just because they’re my friends I’m only allowed see the good in them? I still love both of them and they still love each other even if they’re not perfect,” he insisted. “You know they end up arguing like every night we go out, right? Over something stupid Nate said or some insane shit Lucy did. Do you know how many times Lucy has asked me for advice when it comes to Nate? They’re not perfect.”

“So I’m desperate because I want to find someone who is perfect for me?”

“What if you already have?”

“What?”

The music was still loud around them but suddenly the only thing she could hear was her own beating heart.

And suddenly she became aware of just how close the two of them actually were. Harry’s nose brushed against hers as his mouth carefully, barely, grazed her lips. His breath was hot on her face and oh wow, had his eyelashes always been that long?

Y/N wanted to reach out and touch him, but the way he was looking at her made her unable to move any part of her body. She was frozen; waiting for him to make the next move because she was far too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything herself. He was so close. Too close -- but at the same time not close enough. She wondered if he could hear her heart as well. 

“Oi, oi!”

Out of the blue Declan flopped down next to her on the sofa and just like that she was brought back into reality and away from Harry’s green eyes. Declan had two pints of beer with him and grinned at the two of them; clueless to what he had just interrupted. He didn’t come alone though, soon the rest of the gang had gathered around the small table. All so clueless.

Y/N watched as Harry drank what was left of his beer and glared at Declan and the rest while she tried to stop her head from spinning so much. What had just happened?

They were all talking around her but their voices got lost in the loud music and her own thoughts.

‘What if you already have?’ what was that even supposed to mean?

She wanted to turn and look at Harry again but she was too scared of what he might do or say and too scared that everyone else was going to notice something was wrong and ask them about it. Instead she just kept her eyes down to where her thigh was pressing into Harry’s after Declan had squeezed himself down beside them.

Thankfully no one else seemed to pick up on tension between the two of them but Y/N still regretted absolutely everything about her decision to talk to Harry. It hadn’t helped make anything clearer and she was now stuck next to him in a busy club with their drunk friends. Great.

To make things worse she then, out of nowhere, heard someone call her name and she nearly dropped her drink as she noticed who it belonged to. Well fuck.

“Luke.” 

His name fell from her lips as soon as she spotted him waving at her. He came up and stood behind Nate and Lucy, with his hands in his pockets and his hair slicked back perfectly. Lucy was quick to turn around to get a look at the guy Y/N had been raving about just a couple days ago. Then she looked at Y/N again with her jaw hanging open and gave her a look that confirmed Luke was indeed as flawless as he had been described. 

The tension was thick and awkward as Luke stood before her and her friends, more specifically Harry, and Y/N could feel him tense up beside her as he stared Luke down. She had no idea what to say or do. “This is our new neighbour I was telling you about,” was the only thing she could think of. The smirk on Luke’s face as he heard that she had been talking about him didn’t go unnoticed.

“Y’alright then?” Luke asked and nodded towards Y/N. She couldn’t breathe. How was he there? After everything that had just happened with Harry... where did Luke even come from? She hadn’t processed her conversation with Harry yet, how was she supposed to have a conversation with Luke again, in front of everyone, when her head was so scrambled?

“Yeah, I’m great.” What a fucking lie.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh.” What was happening? “Ummmm, I don’t - well I - ehm I-”

“Yes! She would love a drink!” Tara interrupted her with a big grin, and any other time she would’ve been grateful for her friend stepping in and helping, but now? “Wouldn’t you?” Y/N wasn’t even sure.

“I ehhh - well, I guess so?”

What?

Her whole body was screaming NO when she got up and felt Harry’s warmth leave her side. His eyes burned into her back and it was a miracle she even made it to the bar with Luke without vomiting right there and then.

Two days ago, when she first bumped into Luke, all she wanted was to go on a date with him. But something had changed. Something inside her had clicked, and it wasn’t her hormones or the alcohol this time. All she could think about as Luke talked to her and bought her a new drink was how he wasn’t Harry.

Luke didn’t know how she liked her tea. Luke didn’t know she couldn’t go straight to bed after watching a thriller or anything that resembled a scary movie; she needed to watch something more upbeat and cheerful before going to sleep. Luke didn’t know she liked to keep things in order. Luke didn’t know she ate her weight in chocolate when she got her period. Luke didn’t know she loved mint chocolate chip ice cream. Luke didn’t know she called her mum at least once a day. Luke didn’t know she was desperate to find love. 

Harry did.

Harry knew all those things.

And as she stood at the bar with Luke she realised he wasn’t actually flawless. He was still gorgeous, only a little less breathtaking that time around because he knew he looked good and he wasn’t humble about it. He smelled like cigarettes and she hated the smell of smoke mixed with his strong cologne. It gave her a headache. He also couldn’t keep his eyes off her cleavage and didn’t bother asking her anything about herself.

His nose piercing didn’t even look that good.

Luke wasn’t flawless and she didn’t really like him. 

Harry wasn’t flawless either... but she still liked him. 

“And that’s when we-”

“You know what Luke,” she interrupted and put a finger up to stop him from talking. “I think I have to get back to my friends. But um... “ She glanced at the drink he had bought her before picking it up and downed it in one go, because he had paid for it and the least she could do was drink it. The alcohol burned a little in the back of her throat and she accidentally spilled a few drops down her shirt. She hardly noticed though because she was just aching to get back to her friends. Luke looked at her with wide eyes and a puzzled expression. “Thanks for the drink! I’ll see you around.”

With that she walked off with just one thing, or rather someone, on her mind.

But that someone wasn’t there when she found her friends again. She spotted Lucy and her bright dress sitting on Nate’s lap. She spotted Tara having a conversation with a girl from the table next to them. She spotted Declan and Connor laughing loudly over something on their phones.

She did not spot Harry.

Tara was the first one to notice her standing there just staring at the empty seat where Harry was sat a while ago. Tara excused herself from the conversation she was having and came up to Y/N, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Where is Harry?”

“He left,” Tara told her. “I think.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Lucy came up to her as well, with a small frown on her face, worried something had happened. “Is everything alright?”

“I need to talk to Harry,” Y/N said and looked around the club; hoping to spot his curls somewhere in the crowd. Her eyes stung with tears when she couldn’t see him.

“He left after you walked off,” Lucy confirmed softly. “Is everything alright? Did something happen with Luke?”

“Yes- I mean no. I have to go,” was all she told them before she rushed off. “I need Harry.”

Y/N wasn’t aware of the three words that left her mouth but it didn’t make them any less true. It all made so much sense. It had clicked. ‘What if you already have?’ 

Yes. 

How could she have been so blind?

--

When she finally made it home she was out of breath from running all the way from the bus stop to their flat. She prayed Harry had actually gone home and not continued his night at some other club. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he had. 

But as soon as she stepped inside she heard the familiar sound of his guitar coming from his bedroom and she didn’t even bother catching her breath before walking across the flat in a couple of strides. She hadn't really thought anything through. Her whole body was just screaming at her that she needed Harry and it couldn't wait. 

Harry left his dirty dishes out. He sometimes forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was disorganized. He did not only leave his dirty dishes out but he could also leave his dirty socks lying around the flat. He didn't like the same music as her. He could be petty and immature. He had ignored her for two days. 

But Harry also made her tea when she was having a bad day. He made her laugh. He made her food in middle of the night. He always asked about her day. He helped her home when she got too drunk. He sometimes surprised her with breakfast. He understood her. He made her feel at ease and she could always be herself around him. 

All of the good thing outweighed the bad, and the bad was only part of who he was; Harry, her roommate, her friend, the boy who she hadn't realised gave her butterflies until now.

And perhaps she should’ve knocked or at least made her presence known in any other way because as she slung his bedroom door open Harry was visibly startled and a sour note came from his guitar. He looked at her with wide eyes. 

“Y/N? What the fuck?”

“Do I have any flaws?” she asked him breathlessly. 

“What?” he asked. “What do you mean?” 

“What about me annoys you?” 

 “Shouldn’t you be off getting a drink with Mr. Flawess himself.”

“Well I changed my mind. Now just answer the question,” she urged, wanting to cut straight to the chase. Harry frowned and she wasn’t really sure if he was angry with her or just confused. Maybe both? It didn’t matter though, she just needed answers before she passed out from the anxiety running through her. “Do I have any flaws?”

“I - yeah. You do,” he said. Y/N nodded and stepped further into his room, wanting to be closer to him. “Why?” 

“Just - wait,” she told him and ignored his question by asking her own. “What are they?”

Harry didn’t reply at first. He just sat in silence and stared at her with his brows still pressed together in a frown. God, what if she had gotten it all wrong? She’d have to give up the flat to Harry and move out, leave Manchester, maybe even leave the UK. She’d be absolutely mortified; she’d never recover from it. 

Just as she lost all hope and considered running off to hide in her own bedroom for the rest of the night, possibly for the rest of the term, Harry slowly put his guitar to the side. He rubbed his hand over his chin and pinched the bottom of his lip between his index finger and his thumb, contemplating his next few words cautiously.

“You’re incredibly stubborn,” he told her and despite the fact that he had just basically insulted her a wave relief washed over her as he finally said something. 

“Okay, what else?” 

“You ask way too many questions during a movie.”

“Okay.”

“You overthink absolutely everything.”

“More.”

“You leave notes around the flat over the most meaningless things.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t leave the kitchen a mess then.”

“You have too much milk in your tea.”

“You don’t have enough.”

Harry cracked a smile but it faltered almost just as quickly.

“You want love but don’t see the person right in front of you who has fallen head over heels for you.”

Y/N had never seen or heard him as vulnerable as he was right there and then. For a moment she wondered if maybe she had misheard him but judging by his nervous fidgeting and how he for the first time ever struggled to look her in the eyes she quickly realised she hadn’t.  

“I do now,” she admitted quietly, almost too quiet, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “I see you.” 

Harry still heard her and looked right into her eyes as he took a sharp breath. Her body ached to feel his touch as she stood in the middle of his room, terrified of what she was about to ask next, but there was no going back. It was, after all, the reason she had followed him home. “And you still like me despite all my flaws?”

“Well,” Harry started and fought back a smile. “I suppose I wouldn’t have saved all your notes if I didn't.” 

It was really all it took for her to close the space between them and throw herself over him. Harry was quick to catch her and his arms wrapped around her body tightly, holding her close, as she pressed her lips to his.

It was strange kissing him and she didn’t quite know where to put her own hands at first, but it felt right that much she knew. Her whole body was on fire from just a simple little kiss. Y/N never wanted it to stop. Harry grinned against her lips before deepening the kiss and sneaked his hands in under her blazer, pushing it off her shoulders before running his hands over her body. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and it was almost ridiculous how giddy she felt. Harry made her feel drunk, more so than the alcohol in her body. Nothing had ever tasted as good as him. She was completely lost in him and his warmth. 

It wasn’t until she felt him pull at her trousers that she was reminded of reality again and she pulled away from his lips. “You okay?” Harry asked immediately.

“Yeah,” she panted and leaned her forehead against his, twirling the hair in the back of his neck around her finger carefully. “I just... I still got my period.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and tightened his grip on her, still holding her close, and she was sure she could feel his heartbeat against hers. “S’that all? Because frankly I don’t really care about a little blood right now.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?”

“I... no.”

“You sure?” Harry wondered and placed his fingers under her chin and angled her face so he could look into her eyes. He saw right through her and her mind was hazy as her body melted right into his. Harry made her feel safe and comfortable and it was all she needed to know she was sure.  

She needed him. 

“Give me a second,” she said and gave him a quick peck before getting off him. It pained her to do so but even as she made her way over to the bathroom to remove her tampon, perhaps one of the most unattractive things you could do, Harry’s eyes on her as she walked away made her feel sexier than she ever had before.

She didn’t waste a single second inside the bathroom and quickly did what she had to before she just about ran back to Harry’s bedroom. She caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. She looked dazed. But in the best possible way. Her cheeks were rosy. Her hair was messy. Lips swollen. It was the first time she had ever seen herself look so radiant. Glowing almost. 

Happy.

She also decided to not put her trousers back on after she was done in the bathroom, because why waste time when she was planning to take them off soon anyway?

And Harry seemed to have had the same idea because when she came back he had already removed his floral shirt and his beige trousers as well. His lips were the same colour as her lipstick and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring at her bare legs and underwear. It made her whole body tingle and she didn’t mind him gawking, because she couldn’t take her own eyes away from his naked chest and the bulge between his legs.

“Come here,” Harry murmured and held out his hand for her to take. He gently pulled at her arm until she was sitting on top of him on the bed, straddling his hips. The lack of clothing on both of them made her blush as he embraced her and she felt all of him under her.  

Harry cupped one of his hands under her jaw and leaned in to kiss her again. It started out slow but as soon as his lips touched her a soft moan came from her. His lips were slightly chapped and yet they were the best lips she had ever kissed. It didn't matter that they weren’t perfectly soft. Not one bit. Y/N never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again. 

The kiss quickly deepend and she had her hands in his hair, tugging at his soft curls and getting lost in the taste of his lips. She was throbbing against him and knew he could also feel just how desperately she wanted him through the thin lace of her panties. His lips were eager against hers and she was too lost in him to notice he had blindly reached out to the bedside table and sought out a condom.

It wasn’t until she felt his hand and the small foil packet brush against her leg that she realised. She pulled back and met his green eyes, breathing hard as she tried to find her words to speak. He looked back at her with questioning eyes, silently asking her if she was alright with what was happening between them, and she just nodded. 

She sat back to give him some room and watched as he pulled himself out of his boxers and then helped him get them off before he rolled the condom over his length. The sight alone made her light-headed and, if he hadn’t already, she was sure he could hear how hard her heart was beating. He also caught her staring but she didn’t really care and he only pulled her back into him.

He kissed her along her collarbone, sucking lightly at the skin as he made his way up to her neck. Y/N closed her eyes and hummed with pleasure as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Harry ran his hands up and down her back and then slipped his hands in under the tank top she was wearing before he pulled it off her swiftly. 

Harry took a few seconds to stare at her naked chest when he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra before he kissed each of her breasts lightly, making her nipples hard. Y/N just cupped his face and pulled his head up so she could kiss him again, impatient and desperate to feel him inside her and he giggled against her lips. 

Harry only pushed the crotch of her underwear to the side when he lined himself up under her. She gasped as she slowly sank down onto him and had to break their kiss. Harry had one hand around her thigh and the other on the back of her head, her hair twisted between his fingers, as they breathed the same air. 

When she eventually started to move her hips after getting used to the stretch of him he groaned softly, low in his throat, and tightened the grip he had on her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Her blood rushed inside her and her whole chest and face flushed from hearing his words and how hoarse his voice was. She put her hands on his stomach, her fingers digging into his skin around his tattoo, before lifting her hips and taking all of him again; craving the friction created between the two of them.

Harry moaned and let his head fall backwards, breathing heavily, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from his strong jawline. She also couldn’t stop herself from kissing him right there and Harry moaned again as he felt her lips on his skin. 

It made her smile; knowing she was having the same affect on him that he had on her. 

Y/N did her best to find a steady rhythm riding him but her thighs were trembling around him and it had been awhile since she had been on top of anyone. She had almost forgotten how to do it. Harry bucked his hips up into her and she barely had time to react before he impatiently flipped them over and yanked her underwear off.

A loud moan left her lips as he pushed right back into her and instantly built up a new quicker pace, giving her all of him and hitting the spot in her that made her toes curl. He leaned down and connected their mouths again. His chest was slick with sweat as his body pressed against hers and her hands were all over him because she just couldn’t decide where to put them. She wanted all of him. 

And when Harry hoisted himself up and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder to get deeper she didn’t care if any of their neighbours heard her.

“Oh my god.”

Then his fingers were stroking her between her legs and it quite literally took her breath away. Her whole body was trembling as she felt every hot and thick inch of him. Her release was close, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach and he could see it on her as he continued to move above her.

And not once did Harry lose his pace or falter when her nails scratched his back and she clenched tightly around him as her orgasm swept through her body. He kept thrusting into her while she moaned and shivered beneath him.

Just as she came down from her high he got his own release and came with a loud sigh of relief. He continued to move his hips against hers until his muscles gave up from exhaustion and he collapsed on top of her.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, both spent, and she tried to catch her breath. 

Which was hard seeing as he was still on top of her and she could still feel him inside her.

When he raised his head to look down at her, grinning from ear to ear, her whole stomach fluttered. And this time she knew it was because of Harry. It wasn’t because of alcohol. Not because she had a hangover. Not because she was stressed. Maybe because of a few hormones. 

But there were just no excuses. 

Eventually Harry got up. He removed the used condom and retrieved a small towel to clean himself up quickly before handing it over and climbing back into bed with her.

Y/N curled up against his chest and let him run his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head, and she was seconds away from falling asleep when he spoke up.

“I’m sorry for calling you desperate.”

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him.

“S’okay, I have been a little.”

“Still,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t really fair of me.”

“You know you could’ve just told me.”

“I was going to,” Harry admitted with a low chuckle. “But you always came back home announcing you were going on another date so it never really felt like the right time.”

“Hmm, well you didn’t really help yourself by bringing a girl back like every weekend,” she pointed out and laughed lightly. “It was hard to not be blind.”

“Had to try to forget about you somehow,” Harry admitted and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger for a few seconds before continuing. “But you and your stupid post-it notes made it hard.”

“Did you really save all of them?” she asked and pushed herself up so she was leaning on her elbows. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning proudly. Harry laughed and tipped his head back, covering his face with his hands as his cheeks turned pink.

“God, I’m gonna regret telling you that aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” she laughed again before giving his chest a quick kiss, just because she could. “I do kind of enjoy writing them for you though.”

“Of course you do,” Harry said and peaked out from behind his hands with a cheeky smile. “And I enjoy leaving the kitchen a mess because I know you’ll leave me a new one,” he confessed and tapped her nose. 

“I fuckin’ knew it!” she exclaimed with a gasp and shoved him away from her playfully. “You absolute knobhead!” 

Harry only laughed and pulled her back into his warm body. 

On her way back home from the club Y/N had been a little bit worried that she was wrong or that it was going to be weird to go from roommates to more with Harry -- but it felt like the most natural thing. It felt just as natural as everything else they already did together, and maybe that was why she had been so picky recently. Maybe it was why she looked for flaws in every guy she dated so she had an excuse to not see them again. She had already found what she wanted; she just hadn’t realised. How stupid.

“Hey Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

-- 

please let me know your thoughts here ! And please share it if you liked it, it would mean a lot to me! 💛

[jkflesh]

Extremely early GODFLESH interview from 1989 Kills Above All Else, issue 2

My first experience of Godflesh was when a friend played the mini-LP to me... Needless to say I was impressed at the intensity and richness of their sound, powerful and surging yet free from the usual bullshite of art/noise/hardcore or whatever it's called this week. A few weeks later I was able to glimpse them thru the massed sweaty throng of Napalm Death fans at the Zap Club... I  wasn't able to interview on the night... But a few days later I sent them a letter (yeah, yeah I hate fucking postal interviews too... But thank god this bunch are literate!) this is Justin Godflesh's reply:

WHERE DOES THE NAME GODFLESH COME FROM? - We arrived at the name Godflesh purely because we liked the word. We put a load of words down on paper: words we liked and just jumbled them up and amalgamated the words to see what we liked. Godflesh just seemed pretty apt. It reflects our sound.

DO YOU THINK SUCH "HARD" NAMES ARE AN ADVANTAGE TO A BAND? - I think hard names are neither a disadvantage or an advantage. We came up with Godflesh rather quickly. We weren't particularly looking for something. Just something short and to the point. We wanted a name that sounded more huge than hard.

HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WORKIG AS GODFLESH FOR? - Since I split from Head of David, which was early March '88. So not too long really. We had never played a gig until the atual release of the mini-LP in October '88!

WHO WRITES THE LYRICS? WHAT ARE THE LYRICS ABOUT? - I write the lyrics. The lyrics are about nothing too specific really, they're personal but basically very extreme paranoid visios to tell the truth! My lyrics aren't always that rational, I don't premeditate them that much. I just scrawl them down and try not to analyse them too much, otherwise I end up discarding them.

YOUR MUSIC IS VERY AGGRESSIVE — WHY? DO YOU THINK AGGRESSIVE MUSIC IS A GOOD OR BAD THING? - I couldn't tell you exactly why the music is aggressive. I have just always enjoyed playing this sorta shit, it just feels natural to myself. Maybe it's some deep psychological problem I've got(!) I like big fucking sound, so I gather. I find aggressive music "good", but I don't just listen to aggressive shit. I listen to everything and anything. I just prefer playing harsh music.

AT THE NAPALM DEATH GIG THE AUDIENCE WAS MADE UP OF CLEARLY ALL TEENAGE MALES, HOW DOES THIS AFFECT YOU, WOULD YOU RATHER PLAY TO MORE FEMALES? - I would rather play to as many females as males, it seems rather a shame that in England most harsh music gigs seem to attract more male audiences than female. In my experience Europe seems to attract as many females as males which is great (in countries such as Holland, Germany etc).

IS THERE ANY PARTICULAR REASON FOR USING A DRUM MACHINE RATHER THAN HAVING A DRUMMER? DO YOU USE LIVE DRUMS IN THE STUDIO? - I do actually prefer using a drum machine to a drummer. If we had used a drummer, he would've had to have been spot on, we wanted machine-like precision. It's also easier to get a decent drum machine sound live as opposed to real drums, which always seem to cause problems. I can confirm this myself after drumming for Head of David for one and a half years! And no we don't use live drums in the studio.

HOW DO YOU THINK YOUR MUSICAL BACKGROUND HAS HELPED/HINDERED YOU? - It has certaily helped to an extent. It means I didn't have to slog the band around for ages struggling to get gigs, vinyl etc. But we don't particularly fancy the ex Head of David and Napalm Death for the rest of our existence.

DO YOU ENJOY PLAYING LIVE OR DO YOU PREFER TO WORK IN THE STUDIO WHERE YOU HAVE A GREATER CONTROL ON THE FINISHED SOUND? - I massively enjoy both studio and live work. We do have a sound engineer live sometimes but he's not always available. But it's usually fairly easy to get a more than adequate sound live, the drum achine does make things considerably easier. We know what sound we want live, but it can create problems someties especially considering the guitars are low tuned, which means the bass frequencies can be a bit overpowering, but that's usually not too much of a problem.

WHAT HAVE AUDIENCE AND PRESS REACTIONS BEEN LIKE? - Very favourable all round. For some reason, we see to be getting quite popular. Some audiences seem to stand back and purposefully not react, but sometimes they actually move (like Brighton for example, also at some of the more recent gigs we've been playing). We could do with some more press though to be honest, but that should come in time. We've done some music press interviews but they don't appear to print them. Maybe we're too boring in interviews: we don't sensationalise that much really.

HOW HAS THE LP BEEN SELLING? ARE YOU HAPPY WITH THE LP? - Quite well. Sales are now exceeding 4 000 worldwide and it's still selling nicely. Yes we are still happy with it, but I hardly listen to my own records once they're finished and ready to be pressed. But we are definitely still happy with it. But the next LP will easily surpass it.

WHAT INFLUENCES YOU? - Fuck! Anything and everything. Musically — early Killing Joke, earlier Stranglers, Swans, Whitehouse, Slayer and too many more. The writings of J.G. Ballard have provided a sort of influence. I someties try to capture his atmospheres in our songs to an extent. The very early raw power of MC5 and The Stooges has provivded an unobvious influence.

WHAT PLANS HAVE YOU GOT NOW? - The next vinyl release is our first full length studio LP which will be on Earache Records (home of Napalm Death, Carcass etc.) due for May/June release. The first 3 000 will have a 12" EP "Tiny Tears" inside a gatefold sleeve which was recorded Oct '88, which was planned for release in Jan '89 but this fucked up mainly through changing labels, so it's now going to be a limited edition freebie! It will also be on the CD of the LP along with 3 previously unreleased tracks... We're touring England with God and Head of David in late March, we should also be taking our shit to Europe shortly after that. We'll have t-shirts ready in early March too, so look out...

Thanks — Justin

[jeogiyall]

To The Beat; P.SH

Word count; 12.1k (i have absolutely no self control)

Genre; Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Seonghwa x Reader, Marching Band! AU

Additional; Featured Ateez, Entirely Self Indulgent, Flute Player! Reader

Warnings; Mentioned Sex, Swearing, Suggestive

A/N; so this is one of the more embarrassing things i’ve written,,, we’re just not gonna talk about the fact that i’m both a band kid and a kpop stan!! i’d also like to say that it is based entirely off of my experience with band! yes, we are poor, yes the kids are actually this mean, and yes they are this horny! the bus incident actually happened at my school y’all! band kids r a mess bye- also if u want to know more about marching band please ask me! i love to talk about it!

There were few things that you wanted more than this. Maybe a boyfriend in middle school, or first chair, but looking back even those pale in comparison. The want of those is pathetic compared to how badly you wanted to be woodwind captain your senior year. After being section leader for the flutes you were sure that it would end up how it was meant to, but sometimes even things that aren’t supposed to happen do. Like freshman year when the pit captain got his mallets stuck in the bell of a tuba, or when your newly appointed drum major (Kim Hongjoong, best friend since freshman year and previous woodwind captain/saxophone section leader,) cried on the field after stepping on a moth. Some things just end up wrong.

But here you are, sitting in the cafeteria of your school surrounded by the people you decided to spend all of high school with and feeling as full as ever. Your director's voice boomed, “(Y/n) (L/n,) woodwind captain,’ and you thought that no four words had ever sounded so perfect together. You stood quickly, legs carrying you to the front of the crowded space. People were clapping, as they do every year, but this time it was for you. For your hard work, and dedication, and everything that you’ve put into this program for the past three years. You cast a smile to your band director, heart soaring incredibly high that you don’t think it’ll ever come down.

“Congratulations.” She whispers while giving you a firm handshake. You murmur thank you before taking your place beside Hongjoong.

“We made it.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, using his free hand to pinch your bicep. You smile even wider, something that probably shouldn’t be possible, and open your mouth to respond. 

“Park Seonghwa, brass captain.” The words coming from your band directors mouth erases any thoughts from your head. He stands from his seat in the back of the cafeteria, face taking on a smug smile. You want to kick him. Instead you stand taller, spine pulled so straight that it could crack.

People clap still, but instead of responding gratefully he smirks (Seonghwa is always smirking or grimacing. You’re not sure which you hate more.) Hongjoong turns to you wearing an expression of annoyance. Normally, you would comfort the boy and tell him that it’s whatever. Tell him ‘Who cares about Seonghwa? We’re going to be so good at our jobs that he won’t even exist.’ But he will exist. He will exist, and you care.

“Looking forward you working with you.” He says lowly while extending a hand to you. If it weren’t for your band director watching you would’ve spit on him.

“Likewise.” You respond coldly, taking his hand into yours. The skin is obnoxiously soft, no doubt from his habit of never doing anything.

After a long winded speech from your director, you and Hongjoong return to the table where your friends are. Everyone wears a grimace.

“Does he have to be brass captain?” San complains before pouting his lower lip. If he weren’t obnoxiously drumming his fingers on the table you’d find it cute.

“Why does it matter to you? You're the drumline captain, you don't have to interact with him!” He pouts even more, shoulders shrugging into his ears.

“I’m just like... Sorry for you and Hongjoong.” You sigh at the words while relaxing against your chair. It’s easier said than done, seeing as the chair is far too small and made of cheap plastic.

“Me too, but I’m trying to not count him out. No one succeeds when everyone thinks that they’ll fail, even self righteous assholes.” San snorts, then returns to exchanging banter with Yeosang. You, however, are not as lucky.

Brass and woodwind captains are the people in band who have to work together the most, everyone knows that. Everyone also knows that you and Seonghwa do not get along, a fact that was solidified when he made you take four props to the field by yourself during a competition. He dropped your flute on the way to the field, and caused you to arrive on the field almost two minutes late by refusing to help. You earned a nice time penalty and got yelled at by the director, ever since you and the boy have fought like it was a war.

But maybe this season would be okay. He said he was looking forward to working with you, and he’s not a liar. He might be rude, arrogant, and full of himself. But he’s not a liar, if Seonghwa says something he means it. And sticks to it.

So maybe this won’t be so terrible.

*

Being wrong was hands down your least favorite thing. It was something so rare that you didn’t really have to worry about, but this marching band season seemed to be all about being wrong. Well all about being wrong, and Seonghwa.

The first day of band camp he scolded Jongho, your only flute freshman, for not bringing water. The poor boy looked like he was about to pass out and all Seonghwa could do was tell him to bring some tomorrow. You took him out during lunch break and apologized for your fellow leaders tone deaf behavior. 

But the second week of band camp was when he really started to get under your skin. It was the groups first time marching while playing, and fifth time running a lap for the night. As everyone settled back into place and brought up their instruments Seonghwa mumbled under his breath ‘Maybe if the woodwinds knew their damn music,’ then cut you a painfully pointed glare. No matter how much your brain tried to write the comment off as tired frustration, there was no denying that you wanted to punch him in the jaw. It would probably break him, you’re not sure that you cared.. 

And of course, there’s now. Band camp is over, and now you’re two weeks out from the first competition. Around this time last year was when Hongjoong started up woodwinds sectionals, so you figured you’d do the same. Why try to fix something that isn’t broken and all of that. Unfortunately Seonghwa had the same idea, seeing as he’s standing in front of you and clapping his hands harshly while the block messily executes a visual from your opener.

“Reset,” He barks, hands wiping sweat away from his forehead, “that was messy. We don’t do messy. Let’s go again.” It’s almost scary how regimented he is. Like for a minute you forget that he’s Park Seonghwa of your graduating class, and instead he’s the person that decides whether or not you’re allowed to breathe.

“Seonghwa!” You chirp, trying desperately to keep annoyance from seeping into the lines of your voice, “When will you guys be done? Just wondering, it’ our first sectional today so-”

“First? This is our fourth.” His voice is painstakingly polite, but there’s a smirk spreading across his face and you want to hit him until it hurts. Your teeth bite on the inside of your cheek, which is still pushed up into a smile.

“Yea, first. I just wanted to gauge everyone’s skill set-” you don’t owe him an explanation, you don’t owe him an explanation, “When will you be done?” One of his perfectly shaped brows raises, pink tongue darting to the corner of his mouth. His eyes quickly flick to his block, who are standing still as statues, then back to you.

“We’re staying until rehearsal tonight, you guys can have the gym.” The tone of his voice is back to normal, more commonly known as cold and infuriating. Hatred boils in your gut as you uphold a smile.

“But the gym doesn’t have yard lines. We need yard lines to practice marching, and since you guys seem to be just doing visuals you don’t really need them. I’m sure it would make everyone else happy too.” If looks could kill you’d be dead. Or whatever’s worse than dead, because he’s looking at you as though you’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to strangle him.

“Let me get one thing clear, I do not fucking care what would make everyone else happy. I care about doing my job properly, as you should. If you wanted the field then you should’ve started sectionals earlier, so go to the gym or cancel your sectional. I don’t care, just get off.” You’re left fuming and ready to burst at the seams as he returns the block of brass. 

Later that day you talk to your band director about implementing a sectionals schedule. Something that would be made at the beginning of every week by captains and section leaders then posted in the instrument room. Something that would prevent today from ever happening again, but of course you don’t tell her that.

“That’s a wonderful idea, (y/n!) No one has ever suggested something like that before, nice job!” She smiles approvingly over her desk, hands typing fervently on her keyboard. You thank her, then duck out of the room. It feels wrong to accept her praise when the only reason for it is to piss off Seonghwa.

*

He’s here. It’s your scheduled time to have the field, 3:00 pm on Tuesday, and Seonghwa is here. Seonghwa is here, standing on the front sideline and looking at your group as though you interrupted him.  

“What are you doing?” You demand while stomping up to where he’s leading stretches, “You know I scheduled my sectional for today, you’re in the group chat.” He pulls his right arm across his chest, definitely flexing on purpose. 

“We’ve been having sectionals at this time for three weeks now, I’m not planning on changing it.” If it weren’t for four years of constant arguing you’d think he’s being polite. Everything from the relaxed facial features to his calm voice, but you know that this is always how it starts. A polite tone, quickly turned into sneers and words that taste like poison.

“Well plan on it.” You spit, stepping closer to the boy. He’s surprised by your boldness, so much so that he drops the stretch, “You’re not above the rules, adhere to the schedule and stop being an ass.” His shocked eyes morph into slants, like a tiger about to pounce on its prey.

“I may not be above the rules, but that doesn’t mean that you are the rules.” And there it is, the devilish quirk of his lips. It’s so blood boiling that you think he could be struck down by lightning and you would celebrate

“Oh you piece of-”

“Hey!” He shouts towards the bleachers, where the entire winds section is gathered. The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even notice them leaving, “Did I say that you could leave block?” A bead of sweat rolls down the hollow of his throat, which is definitely not what you focus on as the brass scramble back into place.

“Seonghwa, I’m using the entire field. I’m the person scheduled, so you either have to stay on the front sideline or you have to leave.” He chuckles lowly, then turns to face you. His tongue smooths over the corner of his mouth again, you want to scream.

“I don’t take orders from you-”

“How about we just do the sectional together?” The low brass section leader, Mingi, offers quietly from his corner spot at the back of the block. He’s leaning one elbow on his contra, which is on the ground bell first, and trying desperately to hide his face behind his own hand. All that he manages to hide is his right eye, but it’s certainly an a for effort.

“No.” Seonghwa answers as soon as you sigh, ‘fine.’ His eyes shoot up to meet yours, finally filled with something other than anger or disgust, “Really?” An eyebrow quirks up so hard that it might as well grow into his hairline.

“Well if you’re not going to leave! I have things to get done and you’ve now cut into my sectionals time twice! So if sharing the field is what I have to do to get shit done then fine.” He stares at you in a way that makes you feel small, then shrugs. 

“Fine, get into a block on the back hash.” You’re about to tell the woodwinds to stretch, but when you face the dented bleachers they’re all sitting in a circle with outstretched legs, exchanging laughter and smiles. Whatever Seonghwa took hold of in your stomach releases as your heart swells with pride.

“Woodies!” You call, smile spreading as everyone's eyes shoot up to meet yours, “Join the block!” 

They shout back, “Yes mam!” Which makes you feel painfully old, and painfully happy.

*

The sectional went fine. Well, as fine as it could seeing as two people who nearly killed each other twenty minutes prior lead it. 

“You were bad ass, (y/n!)” Resident bari sax, Yeosang laughs, “I really thought that fire was about to shoot out of your eyes.” 

“I thought fire was about to shoot out of his eyes!” Yunho, the clarinet section leader, adds, “And you just stood there like ‘yea asshole, set me on fire! I can take it!’ No guys, I’m being serious-” All of the previous laughter from your boys halts as Seonghwa enters the room, steely eyes settling on your cluster of woodwinds. His eyes stay there, though you can’t blame him. If two sweaty teenage boys were staring at you like they’d been caught doing something wrong, you would stare back too.

“What?” He asks, the word so sharp that it could cut. Yeosang shakes his head while Yunho finishes putting his instrument away. The latter mumbles something about waiting for you in his car, to which you nod curtly. 

“Okay, well... I’m gonna go.” Yeosang drawls, leaving the instrument room with the bari sax around his neck. You laugh to yourself at the sight of him waddling away, then return to what you’re supposed to be doing.

“You know, whoever holds a sectional is supposed to sweep the instrument room afterwards.” You exhale while moving to retrieve the broom from it’s corner.

“Oh, like you were just now?” He quips, hands moving deftly against his metal padlock. He doesn’t even need a padlock, the band director locks the instrument room door after everyone leaves. It’s just something else that he has to be annoying.

“Maybe it would go faster if you would help me, seeing as you held a sectional too.” They’re normal words, but your throat physically chokes on each syllable. The boy drops his lock, eyes narrowing as they come in contact with you.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t take orders from you?” He takes a step closer, until his crossed arms are brushing against your knuckles. His skin is soft, almost like he waxes. It makes your head pound.

“I guess until I stop asking you to do your job, and not just the part of it that gets you praised.” You continue sweeping, trying desperately to get away from the boy. But of course he picks up on it and follows you.

“I do my job perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You scoff loudly, chin tilting up so that you’re eye to eye with the boy. He smirks.

“Clearly, you don’t.” The tip of his nose brushes yours, then his lips are crashing into you. His lips are crashing into you, and you kind of like it.

It’s an aggressive motion, filled with him gripping onto the collar of your workout shirt and you dropping the broom. The part of you with a brain thinks that you shouldn’t kiss him back, seeing as you hate him and what not, but then he bites your bottom lip and there’s no hope. Anyone would melt at that sensation.

And melt you do, body going limp as he pushes you against the closest wall. You bring up a hand to trace the hollow of his throat, copying the trail of his sweat from earlier. His moan vibrates against your palm and it’s all that you can do to not die right then and there. Pressed against the instrument room wall, in the arms of the boy that you hate.

“What were you saying?” He growls into your ear while pulling you in by the waist. If you were anyone else you’d moan something incoherent and let him keep kissing you with lips that feel like pillows. But you are not anyone else, you are (Y/n.) (Y/n) who is stubborn to a fault.

“That you’re an asshole, who sucks at your job.” He smiles down at you, eyes filled with a certain kind of thunder. A hand wraps around the back of your neck, then slams your mouth onto his. Hot breath hits your cheek as kisses you senseless. As you let him kiss you senseless. He tastes like coconut lip balm. 

“Wrong answer.” The boy exhales before attaching his lips to your jaw. You’re about to argue with him, because you just don’t know what’s good for you, but then your phone starts ringing. Probably Yunho telling you that he needs to get home. You need to as well, but it’s impossible to think about that when Seonghwa is devouring every part of you as if he’s been paid to do so.

“Seonghwa,” You start, but it sounds far too much like a moan so you have to clear your throat before continuing, “Seonghwa! I have to go.” He doesn’t let up, tongue running against the spot where your jaw pokes out.

“I’ll take you home.” His voice comes out rough, like if your hands ran over it they’d come back scraped. It’s almost enough to make you stay, but then there’s the idea of having to tell Yunho that Park Seonghwa is taking you home. That you were making out with Park Seonghwa, and it was so good that you didn’t want to leave so he offered to take you home. The thought of your friends reaction is enough to turn you off.

“No, Seonghwa, I have to go.” You pull his head off of your neck, running one hand through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It’s sweaty, but doesn’t smell bad which is just infuriating, “Um... Do this again?” He smiles, but this time is a little different. His lips are still in a wicked curve, but his dark eyes have sparkles now. You almost think that he’s going to say something nice.

“You wish.” You want to tell him that he’s right, you do wish. Instead you sigh, push his body away, collect your bag, and leave with his gaze hot on your trail.

*

Seonghwa is still the thought that keeps you up at night with boiling blood. Everything from his evil smirk to the way his eyes always look unbelievably disapproving of everything. He’s infuriating in a way that evades words.

But there’s also other things to keep you up. Like the thought of his soft honey skin touching yours, or the way his throat feels vibrating against your palm. There’s him pushing you against the instrument room wall, but there’s also him yelling at you in front of the entire winds section. The line is slowly starting to blur and you’re not sure whether or not you like it. You are sure of two things, though. You’re sure that when you fall asleep all you can dream about is Seonghwas coconut flavored lips on your skin, softly whispering affirmations of hatred.

And that sometimes, things that aren’t supposed to happen do.

*

Before this season there were few things that you loved more than marching band. Maybe cookie dough ice cream, or speeding through downtown in the passenger seat of Yunhos mom van while Hongjoong and San yelled song lyrics from the backseat. Those were both good things, and the only things that even came close.

But then there’s now. There’s you and Seonghwa getting drunk off of each other while crammed into your school's equipment closet. There’s his soft hands pushing you onto the counter, his sweet lips growling crude words into your ear. There’s him kissing you, and then there’s something else that comes close to marching band.

*

Ever since freshman year your favorite feeling has been the one that you get after rehearsal. The feeling when your instrument comes off your face and pride swells all the way up to your cheeks. When San breaks from his final set next to you and offers up a childish grin, always accompanied by a high five and the words ‘Nice run, captain.’ 

Tonight doesn’t feel like that, tonight feels like your stomach is in the throat. Like the world is tilting and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Nice run captain!” San shouts, yet the words sound so far away. You nod slowly, high-fiving his outstretched hand while your free hand wraps around your own waist, “(Y/n?) Are you okay.” It’s all you can do to flash a thumbs up before falling to the pavement. Everything goes black for three minutes, but when yours eyes slowly open you can hear San curse. That, and also the entire band crowding around you.

You can still hear snippets of what they’re saying, but the thought of responding or comprehending is so exhausting that it could make you pass out all over again. Someone yells to give you space, a small part of you hopes that it’s Seonghwa.

For the record, it is Seonghwa. Seonghwa with furrowed eyebrows and frowning lips. His next words are to San, “Why didn’t you catch her?” 

“I have a drum strapped to my body!” The taller boy shakes his head, setting down his freshly polished instrument and crouching next to your limp body. If you were more coherent you would’ve moved away. Or loved it. You would’ve moved away or loved it.

“(Y/n,) can you hear-”

“Hongjoong, (Y/n) died!” Wooyoung shrieks from across the field, causing actually everyone to flock to you. 

“She didn’t die idiot, just passed out.” Yeosang responds while rushing to help Hongjoong off of his podium. The boy tries to jump the last three steps, which ends just as well as one could imagine. Everyone’s too busy staring at you to even notice.

“I told her that she should’ve eaten lunch!” Your drum major chides, “(Y/n!) (Y/n,) can you hear me?” He’s kneeling down next to you, sandy blonde hair tickling the tip of Seonghwas nose. You don’t even know why Seonghwa is still here, but a small part of you likes that he is. Almost like you two are more than boiling hatred and stolen kisses.

You hold a thumbs up to your friend, it takes every single ounce of your strength. Of all the reactions that you get, Seonghwa sighing in relief is the most satisfying.

“Told you she’s not dead.” Yeosang mutters from where he’s standing over you. Wooyoung sticks his tongue out to the boy, you almost want to laugh at their antics.

“Okay, Yunho is taking care of your field mics and prop. Do you think that you can walk by yourself?” You frown while turning your thumbs up into a hard thumbs down, eliciting a chuckle from your sweet friend. Seonghwa doesn’t laugh though, eyebrows still harshly furrowed while he stares down at your frail body.

“I’ll help her down to the band room.” He offers, causing Honjoongs eyes to go as wide as quarters. Along with Yeosangs, Wooyoungs, Junghos- pretty much anyone who knows anything about either of you, “I-I just don’t have a field job, and I can get Mingi to take my stuff down for me. She needs to get off the field soon, it’s slowing down the clean up.” Hongjoongs eyebrows clench slightly, but he eventually shrugs. You don't know whether to be grateful or to fight him.

But none of those thoughts are in your head as the tall boy scoops you up in his arms bridal style. His usually soft skin is tacky with sweat, yet he smells like fresh pine and spices. You think that it’s not fair that he smells good after a three hour rehearsal.

The last thing that you hear before dozing off against his chest is “You’re an idiot.” It’s whispered into your ear in a tone that almost makes you think that he’s being sweet.

The next time that your eyes open Seonghwa  is propping your body up on the counter in the equipment closet. Something in your chest burns bright red at the memory of what the two of you were doing here after last rehearsal. It consisted of your hair in between his fingers, and bright purple hickeys blossoming on his neck. Now he’s forcing a huge water bottle into your face while trying desperately to hold you up by your shoulder. Considerably less sexy, to say the least. 

“Drink.” He says curtly while handing the see through bottle to you. You accept with a shaky nod, then drink the water like you’ve been in the desert for the past fifteen years. It takes a minute before he manages to pry it away, “Hey! Not too fast you’ll get sick, and stop chewing on my straw!” A dry laugh escapes your lips, head tilting back ever so slightly. You don’t see the way that Seonghwas eyes trail on the hollow of your throat with a gaze so intense that it threatens to burn. 

“Why’d you offer to bring me up?” You croak while reaching for his water bottle once again. He relents with a sigh, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“No reason, just didn’t want you blocking up the clean up. Everyone was so focused on you that nothing was getting done.” His voice is flat, holding no traces of emotion, but you know that there’s something more. There was a reason that he was the first person to fall to his knees next to you. A reason that he scolded San for not catching you, “Don’t overthink things, (Y/n.) And stop chewing on my straw!” He snatched the water bottle away from you once again, causing both of you to laugh softly. 

“Sorry.” You sigh, body relaxing as his soft hand comes to rest against your jaw. It’s a gentle touch, something so foreign in this relationship that you’ve created with your fellow captain, “About your straw, not the overthinking. Not that I was overthinking.” He exhales a short laugh at your witty remark, a signature smirk tugging gently at his lips, “Come on Hwa, just admit that you like me.” He leans in closely to you, hot breath fanning against the place where your neck and jaw meet. 

“Okay,” He exhales, mouth dangerously wet and sweet, “I like you.” The words ricochet against the shell of your ear, teeth tugging against the skin where they’ve imprinted. It feels so good that you could collapse. He pulls away slightly and presses a tender kiss to your temple. You think that while you like when he throws you against a wall and kisses your lips numb, he’s good like this too, “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still hate you.”

And then he leaves you in the musty equipment closet, with nothing except for his water bottle and your burning hot cheeks for company.

*

It happens like this; forty minutes after everyone’s finished clearing off the field. You were putting your flute away into your assigned locker when Seonghwa barged in grumbling about something that you couldn’t understand, then pushed you harshly against the lockers.

“Hwa, wait! I still have my flute, I can’t drop it!” He bounced back at your exclamation, head hanging cutely as he let you finish.

“My bad.” He muttered while reaching into his pants pocket to apply coconut chapstick. The part of you that hated him wanted to gag, but the part of you that kind-of-sort-of-maybe liked him was excited to kiss the taste off. You shut the locker door with a loud slam, then turned on your heel once again to face the tall boy, “Okay?” He questioned with a quirked eyebrow. You nodded eagerly, hands screwing into the collar of his cotton t-shirt.

“Okay.” Then his lips were crashing harshly into yours, hands touching your body with a fever that can’t be measured. You all but collapsed beneath the sensations, “Your diagonal at the end is shit.” He whispers against your needy lips. Instead of responding, you tightly pull on his hair. It’s as if to say ‘Fuck you just follow the form.’ His low groan is a simple answer, ‘Absolutely not.’  

He’s just starting to do that thing that you really like, the thing where he pulls you as close as humanly possible by your waist and the nape of your neck, when a high pitched scream erupts from the instrument room door. Even though it sounds like one of the freshman girls, you both know that it’s Wooyoung without even having to look. 

“Shit!” Seonghwa curses, hands detaching from you so fast that your back collides with the lockers, “Oh gosh, (Y/n) are you-”

“Can’t talk, gotta run see you tomorrow!” You rush in one breath, dashing out of the door and into the band room. Wooyoung is about to walk out of the exit and into the parking lot, the parking lot where Yunho and Yeosang are waiting for you, “Woo, wait up!” You pant, stopping him right at the exit ramp.

“Do you guys do that after every rehearsal?” He questions, eyes blown wide as saucers, “Oh no, is that why we all leave so late? Ew, gosh, gross, gross, gross! That was so gross, like actually the grossest making out I’ve ever seen! It was so weird and hateful, a-and... And weird! I would’ve rather walked in on you guys fucking- nope take that back, I would not have liked to walk in on that. Wait, have you guys-”

“No!” You shout, hands coming to clamp on the frantic boys shoulders. Your eyes check the room while you lower your voice before continuing, “We’ve never done that, it’s just kissing. Weird, hateful, kissing.” He nods, face still twisted up in disgust.

“Why would you do that to yourself? Like, he’s kind of a dick to you.” You sigh heavily and bring up a hand to wipe the lines off of your forehead.

“Yea, but he’s also sweet sometimes. Not to mention like, really good at kissing-” Wooyoung gags dramatically at your answer, you think that if you weren’t so panicked that it would be funny, “Look, just please don’t tell anyone. Especially not my friends, I think that this is supposed to be like... A secret thing? I just want it to stay a thing, and I just know that they’d lose their shit...” You trail off, words turning into nothing but indecipherable noises and flailing hands.

“Why does he want to keep it secret?” Wooyoung asks with an uncharacteristically soft voice. It’s a question that’s been nagging in the back of your mind since last week in the equipment closet, when he softly whispered the affirmation against your sweaty skin, “You’re obviously into each other, so why?” You don’t answer, opting instead to bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you think it might start to bleed, “Maybe ask him about that before you worry about your friends.”

*

It’s late after your thursday rehearsal. You’re pressed flush against the door to the equipment closet, Seonghwas plush lips hot on your throat, when silent tears start to fall down your cheeks. For a moment they remain silent, mixing in perfectly with the whimpers you were letting out just moments ago. But then it hurts too bad to hold in, and you let out a loud sob.

“Jeez, it can’t feel that good.” The boy teases, face falling harshly when he sees tears mixing with your post-rehearsal sweat, “Oh no, oh gosh, was I too mean? I didn’t mean it, you’re really good at marching!  Like-” You wave him away, not wanting to be doted on. While you and Seonghwa have definitely gotten... Closer over the past two weeks, this is certainly overstepping. More than that, it’s like barreling past the line and leaving everything around it crushed.

“It’s not that,” You respond, hands releasing from the fabric of his shirt (a black tank top that perfectly highlights his toned arms.) He wants to tell you that they could stay there, that they could stay wherever you want. So long as it makes you stop crying, “It’s... I don’t know what it is.” The words are flat, clearly a lie. You don’t want to tell him why you’re actually crying, that you think some part of you has actually started to like him. But not just like him as a friend, as someone that you wouldn’t mind spending a day with. More like, someone that you fall asleep to. Someone that could kiss you for days and it would never bore you.

“I, uh, I don’t know-” He doesn’t know what to do, which is painfully clear. You don’t particularly mind that he doesn’t know, just that he’s here. Here for you to hold if you need to. Until he also starts crying, that is, “why are you-”

“Shut up. I just, I cry whenever other people cry!” You cast him a questioning gaze, mind jumping to all the cases where he did not do that.

“That’s so not true, Mingi literally cried two days ago and you laughed at him!” You wipe at your cheeks fervently, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything about the red that was definitely painting your face.

“He cried over DCI! That doesn’t count, I cry for things that matter...” You want to ask what he’s about to say, to tell him that there’s no real reason for you to be crying either. But you don’t, because he’s crying. Sad, crystal tears that paint his sun kissed cheeks, and his arms are open for you, “Can I hug you? I feel weird not doing anything.” 

You don’t say anything, just fall into the open space and inhale sharply. He smells sweet, and feels warm. Not the gross kind of warm that touches every part of you, but the comforting kind. The kind that feels like wearing fuzzy socks and sipping on hot chocolate.

“Don’t feel weird.” You mumble, lips moving softly against the fabric of his tank top, “I-I have to go soon.” He shushes you, hands softly rubbing the line of your shoulder blade.

“Just five more minutes.” It’s almost like a plea, like he needs it too, “You can’t go out crying, they’re gonna think that I did something.” He didn’t... But in a way he did. In a way, he made you fall for him by having lips that taste painfully like coconut. He made you fall for him by kissing like he’s made of fire. He made you fall for him by always smelling like a fall candle.

“You didn’t do anything.” You whisper, but it’s a lie. Because he did do something, something that he doesn’t even know about.

He made you fall for him, which is something that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.

*

In your freshman year there was an... Incident on the bus (one that consisted of a girl, her boyfriend, and very loud sex) which unfortunately resulted in separate boy-girl buses. Which meant no more sitting with Yunho, no more sharing snacks back and forth with Yeosang, no more geeking out over music with Hongjoong and San, and no more ignoring Seonghwa for hours at a time (a task that you found very satisfying as a meek little freshman. It was clearly before you learned how to argue.)

But then Junior year rolled around, and there were too many girls and not enough boys. Your director said that it would be fine for some girls to switch over, which equated to being back with your friends. The first time that you climbed onto the bus all of your friends cheered, to which you responded with bowing down jokingly.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes harshly, then muttered something that you couldn’t hear. What you could hear, however, was Wooyoung laughing and telling his friend to lighten up. He’d always been so sweet, up until two weeks ago you didn’t understand why he’d be friends with someone like Park Seonghwa. You’re starting to get it now.

“(Y/n!)” San cheers from the back, eyes crinkling into an excited smile. Someone starts clapping, the same way that they always do, and you laugh. Seonghwa claps as well, to which Yeosang shoots him a look that reads ‘what the fuck.’ 

“I’m sorry, the only seat left is next to-” Seonghwa. The only seat left is the aisle chair next to Seonghwa. Yunho’s eyes look apologetic as he tells you, but then there’s Mingi curled up next to him with hot cheetos and a gallon jug of water and you can’t even be mad at him. Even if you still despised Seonghwa, you wouldn’t be mad.

“It’s fine.” You respond quickly, one hand coming up to pinch the boys cheek. He smiles brightly, “Since when have you been friends with Mingi?”

“I guess as long as you’ve been friends with Seonghwa.” The comment is quick, painless. Almost like you could tell him everything and he wouldn’t mind.

“Fair.” You slide down comfortably into the seat with Seonghwa, pulling a pack of dried apple slices and sour gummy worms from the stuffed book bag around your shoulders, “Hey.” The word is tiny, almost a whisper.

“Hi, love the snack selection...” He opens up the bag of apple slices, popping one into his mouth before offering them back to you, “Good to see you.” It feels like there’s more that he wants to say, but instead of pushing you giggle and accept an apple.

“You saw me two days ago, dummy!” He smiles softly, heart going limp at the (now friendly) teasing. You turn away before he can keep talking, jumping immediately into banter with your friends, “Hey, Wooyoung! Can you call Jongho back?” The boy in question glances at the empty seat beside him then moves things for a second before cupping his mouth to shout to the front.

“Jongho!” Your freshman looks up with wide eyes, “Sit with me!” He grins widely, throwing back a thumbs up before gathering all of his things. You mouth ‘thank you’ to Wooyoung before turning back to Seonghwa.

“Do you know who has the speaker?” Seonghwas eyebrows furrow, making it painfully clear that he was not paying attention when the boys decided this.

“Yeosang, I think. Him or Hongjoong, somewhere in that seat.” You know immediately that it’s Joong, Yeosang never takes his speaker out of the house, “You better not play that shitty playlist-”

“My playlist is fire, thank you very much!” You slap his bicep with one hand while the other clutches your chest.

“No it is not, half of it is Hannah Montana!” His laugh is sweet, with a slight edge seeping through. Like there’s a dash of liquor in your coffee, “Joong, I have the playlist!” Your friend smiles affectionately and cheers, accepting your phone with a radiant smile.

“Everyone say thank you, (Y/n)” He teases, which unfortunately results in the entire back half of the bus chorusing back ‘Thank you, (Y/n.)’  You giggle softly, a sound that ricochets through Seonghwas head. 

“Thank you, (Y/n.)” He whispers into your ear. If you two were alone in the instrument room he would’ve nipped at the skin there, the loss of that touch makes your body shudder. Seonghwa smiles at the way you roll your neck back, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re welcome!” You respond to everyone else. Right as you turn back to Seonghwa, Britney Spears floods the entire bus, “You’re welcome, Seonghwa.” He smiles, you almost think that he’s going to kiss you.

But then the bus starts moving, and everyone is cheering ‘First comp! First comp!’ You join in with a smile, Seonghwa rolling his eyes at everyones antics. Like he’s much too cool to have fun. Two weeks ago it would’ve been obnoxious, but now you think that it’s painfully endearing.

That seems to be the nature of things with Seonghwa. Everything that used to be the worst part of your day now brightens up any situation. You think that you hate it. Yet it’s also painfully okay.

*

Right as the band is done warming up for the competition your band director tells everyone to find a buddy to zip their jackets. You’ve always been able to do it by yourself, but before you can maneuver your hands to the space in between your shoulders Seonghwa is there.

“You’re gonna rip the jacket,” He grumbles, fingers making quick work of the zipper (there are definitely not sparks flying down your spine as his fingertips brush against your show shirt.) He pats it once after finishing, “good luck out there.” You turn around, hands dusting off the orange and black jacket. It hasn’t been worn in months, yet it’s like putting on your favorite dress. Comforting, empowering... Almost normal, yet if you were to wear this to a school or a grocery store you’d feel entirely insane.

“Let me get your-” He waves the question away right as you notice that Wooyoung is already taking care of it while chattering excitedly, “Oh... Good luck to you too!” Something about the lights of the warm up lot on his tan skin mixed with his uniform that elongates his legs and broadens his shoulders makes your stomach fill with butterflies, “You look good.” He grins in a way that’s shy.

“Thanks, you too.” In that moment you know that he must like you, because there’s sweat on your brow and a light slump to your shoulders. Every ounce of hair is plopped to the top of your head so it’ll fit in the shako, but Seonghwa said that you look good. He said that you look good, and he never lies. Not even to you.

*

“Mingi!” Wooyoung screeches, barreling towards the taller boy (who’s conversing excitedly with the drumline captain,) “Can I have an Oreo pleaseeee-” Mingi’s face twists a little bit, but eventually shifts with a wide smile.

“I don’t know, they’re Yunho’s so-” The boy in question shifts ever so slightly in his spot next to you. He flashes an apologetic smile to you before running up to take his boat of fried Oreos. He pinches one between his fingers and drops it into Wooyoungs mouth, who catches of the air like an excited puppy, and then offers one to Mingi, “Okay I guess it’s fine.” The contra player answers through a full smile.

“They’re so cute.” Yeosang coos while slinging his arm around your shoulders, taking Yunho’s spot. You smile and grab onto the boy's hand where it hangs down, “Before you ask, Joong is getting food with Jongho. Now, how was your run?”

“Fine, good. Always room to improve, y’know?” You both nod, knowing the exact feeling that you’re talking about, “But it was good.”

“And Seonghwa?” The question comes out so calmly that you almost miss it, but when the words finally settle in you’re left sputtering and confused.

“W-what?!” He looks confused, but you feel panicked. Down to the core of your body, you are panicked. 

“Well you guys are friends, right? Like you seem to be friends now and... It’s okay to be friends with him. You don’t have to pretend like he’s not your friend, and it seems good too. For him, he’s nicer lately.” Warmth blossoms in your chest, rising all the way up into your ears as your eyes involuntarily move over to where the boy sits on the bleachers. Where he sits alone, “Go ask him to join us.”

“Really?” Yeosang nods, hand releasing from yours as hope rises along with your blush. A small giggle slips past your lips, “Okay. Yea, okay! I-I’ll be back, um... Yea.”

When you settle down next to Seonghwa he greets you with nothing more than a curt nod. It’s strange, to say the least, but you brush it off. He’s probably just pissed about something, because he’s Seonghwa and always pissed.

“Hey,” You exhale, “h-how was your run?” He shrugs, shoulders tensing violently.

“It was good.” He’s supposed to ask how you did, and you’re supposed to say what you always do. But he doesn’t ask, so you don’t answer.

“U-um... So I was just wondering if... L-like if you wanted to have- not have, if you wanted to-” He looks you square in the face with a glare that could cut, “I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with us.” One of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows quirks, tongue darting to the inside of his cheek.

“If you want to make out you can just say so.” Something clenches around your vocal chords, throat closing up so hard that you think you could choke, “You don’t have to make up some bullshit excuse about wanting to be friends.” It’s not quite clear what tips you over the edge, maybe the biting tone of what he says. The hatred in his eyes that you were so sure you had moved past. The flicker of excitement that dies in your chest, but prickly tears start to gather in your eyes.

“What?” You squeak, swallowing hard, “I-I just wanted to-”

“To make out like we always do.” Those are certainly the words that come out, but they can’t be right. He can’t be actually saying that, because it’s not what you always do. Just two days ago this boy held you so tenderly that you could’ve broken, and now he’s looking at you like he doesn’t even know your name.

“Oh, um...” There’s a part of you that could cry. But then there’s also the part that could bite back, the same way that you would at the start of this season, “Just, fuck off.” 

You barrel out of the stadium like a train that’s on fire, mind focused on nothing other than sinking down into your seat and crying. Or screaming. Or doing anything to get something out of your body. You’re halfway there too, weaving in and out of the rival schools buses with ease, until somebody's hand grips your wrist tightly.

“(Y/n) stop!” Seonghwa. His pink lips are parted and panting. You pull your hand away and cradle it into your chest, fire forming on the tip of your tongue.

“Do not touch me.” The words are spat out like venom, causing him to physically recoil. It’s strange honestly, how less than a month ago this was your normal form of communication and now it’s something that hurts, “Don’t touch me, or talk to me, or even fucking look at me.” His eyebrows crinkle, the soft skin there folding ever so softly.

“I-I just thought that-”

“Thought what? That you could make out with me, and comfort me while I’m crying, and fucking carry me to the band room, and that I wouldn’t care about you? That’s what you thought?!” Earlier this season, back at the second woodwind sectional, Yeosang said that he thought fire was going to shoot out of your eyes. You didn’t get at the time, but now you do. Now, with anger pulsing through every last vein in your body, you understand. Because you want to slap that stupid confused expression off of his face, you want to make him cry the way that you’re going to cry, “Fucking answer me, Seonghwa!”

“I... I definitely didn’t think that you would care about me?” He knows it’s the absolute wrong thing to say as soon as your jaw solidifies into a harsh line. It’s one of your tell tale signs, along with steely eyes that pierce straight through his chest. It seems that pissing you off for three years had some benefits, “Nope, no. Definitely not that, I-”

“Fuck off.” You bite harshly before turning on your heels and storming off towards the bus. He’s about to follow you, but something about your clenched fists and shoulders that are raised so high that they could mold into your ears tells him to stay behind. You’re not sure whether to be grateful or pissed. Maybe both.

When your back finally slides against the cheap leather of your seat, it’s clear. Definitely both. Grateful because there are fat, snotty tears falling down your cheeks with reckless abandon. Because your sobs are so loud that the people on the next bus can probably hear you. Because you’re crying in a way that you never have before. 

But pissed, because no one has ever held you as tightly Seonghwa did just two days ago. Pissed, because the person who you were supposed to hate more than anything just broke your heart. Pissed because something that wasn’t supposed to happen did.

After hours (or minutes. Maybe seconds, you don’t really know) of crying you sit up and assume the natural post competitions pose. Knees hugged to your chest, fingers touching knuckle to knuckle, and head resting softly on the sweating window pane. When your eyes close Seonghwa is the first thing that you see, followed by dark sleep.

An hour later all of the boys crowd onto the bus, filling the space immediately with loud dialogue and banter. Hongjoong leads the group, holding a trophy nearly as tall as his torso and wearing a smile brighter than the sun. You quickly scan down the line for Seonghwa but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! Where were you, we got fir-” Hongjoong halts at the sight of your tear stained cheeks, jaw falling slack at the sight of your wrecked appearance, “What happened?” Seonghwa ducks onto the crowded bus just as your mouth opens. You don’t know whether you should let it all out or pretend like everything is fine and go back to sleep.

“It’s nothing, just tired.” You don’t believe yourself, and the drum major's tight lipped smile let’s you know that he doesn’t either. With an exhale and a soft ruffle of your hair, he moves back to his shared seat with Yeosang. Making just enough room for Seonghwa to slide in next to you.

“(Y/n,) I-” You twist to the seat behind you and drop the half eaten bag of gummy worms into the drumline captains lap. San looks up with a thank you already on his lips.

“Wake me up when we’re twenty minutes from the school?” He nods with a smile, hands already ripping into the bag of candy as if he’s starving. You poke the tip of his nose softly before falling back into the seat, where Seonghwas legs are touching nearly every part of you (really only your thighs, but it feels like he could sit farther away. Like he should sit farther away,) “I’m going to sleep, San’s going to wake me up so don’t bother with it.” His eyes look sad in a way that makes you want to scream.

“(Y/n-)”

“Goodnight, Seonghwa.” You manage through the fresh lump forming in your throat. 

Though your head hits the glass immediately, you can’t fall asleep for almost twenty minutes. Chattering boys and Mingis terrible playlist isn’t exactly the best backdrop for sweet dreams. But they settle down, cheers turning into yawns and a bluetooth speaker into Mingi and Yunho sharing earbuds. You do fall asleep eventually, but it’s not the booming bass of Mingis meme rap.

When you fall asleep, it’s to the beat of a rattling windowpane that won’t fully close and Park Seonghwa breathing deeply next to you.

*

There’s always a trend of depleting motivation after the first win of marching band season. Like freshman year after the regional competition, the following rehearsal was absolute torture. Color guard flags colliding with brow bones, entire passages of music forgotten, and too many dropped drumsticks to count. Then there was junior year (which painfully mirrored the season prior,) in which everyone was sentenced to laps until the sun went down. Each year you’d huff dramatically while complaining about the lazy members, to which Hongjoong would listen with a heaving chest.

Needless to say, that’s changed for the worst (just like everything else this season.) You spent the first lunchtime rehearsal moping drastically while refusing to make eye contact with Seonghwa. All of your friends asked you what was wrong, to which you made up a lie about having an empty stomach. Yeosang saw right through the lie, seeing as he watched you wolf down a chicken biscuit, but he didn’t say anything. In all honesty he probably knew what was wrong but was too conscious to bring it up, an act of kindness that you couldn’t thank him enough for.

Then there’s now, Tuesday after school. Four hours before rehearsal, more commonly known as sectional time. Even more commonly known as designated argue with Seonghwa time, which you don’t want to do today. A small part of you wants to make Yeosang fight him, but the other part knows that it has to be you. It’s not as though you have any other way to get out your anger with Seonghwa (there’s messy makeouts in the instrument room, of course, but you’d rather cut off your own lips than kiss him. Or you’d give the world to kiss him again. Somewhere in between the two.) 

You take the final step onto your practice field, fully prepared to see a block of brass being run ragged by Park Seonghwa. But he’s not there. No one is except for your group and Wooyoung, who’s at the front of the field busying himself with tangled field mic cables. You glance around wildly before bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s genuinely infuriating how upset you are that Seonghwa isn't here, but there’s no time to think about that now.

“Um... Yunho and Yeosang, can you guys lead stretches over by the trailer?” The trailer which is parked on the exact opposite side of the field from where Wooyoung is, “Jongho too, just... Go through the basics, please.” They nod dutifully before leading the group away, Jongho doing so with an earth shattering smile. You wait until they’re all seated and chattering before moving over to Wooyoung, who’s adorning sad eyes and hair that’s too long tied back into a ponytail.

“Hey, (y/n.)” He greets quietly while placing the mic cable into its case. Your stomach churns tightly at the conversation that’s about to happen.

“Hey... Where’s Seonghwa?” The words feel like slow acting poison, the kind that’s threatening to eat you from the inside out and leave you for dead.

“He’s having sectional in the gym, said that you’d probably need the field.” That’s when it kicks in, burning a gaping hole into the center of your chest. You want to scream, or cry, or for Seonghwa to hold you so tightly that it hurts. Instead you stare blankly at the space next to Wooyoungs head, eyes glazing over and body going numb.

“... Oh, h-he was right.” Wooyoung nods before moving on to the next mic cable. It’s so silent and awkward that you almost think that you should leave, even with poison burning in your chest. Even with sadness eating at your skin.

“He told me what happened, and like... The stuff that he said. He doesn’t want to miss you.” Your band director always says that silence is the most impactful thing in music. You never got it until now, because there’s Wooyoung saying these things. Saying all of the right things that you want to hear, a call that waits for your response. Then there’s your response, that leaves a gaping hole in the score of this conversation, “He seems sorry.” You mull it over, words ringing sweet in your skull like an isolated harmony.

With a soft nod you respond, “Me too” before rushing away to where the woodwinds are assembled already in a block. The poison leaves you as sectional bleeds into rehearsal, but for a brief moment your eyes meet Seonghwas and you’re made painfully aware of the hole that it’s left where your heart should be.

*

The last moments in the warm up lot are spent with you trying to zip up your own jacket, and then Seonghwa swooping in to do it for you. His fingers brush the space between your shoulder blades, sending a shock through the core of your being. Goosebumps raise on your neck as his warm breath hits the skin there.

“You’re gonna rip it.” The words come out so much softer than the last time he said them, completely void of any teasing. If anything there’s tenderness, akin to the night that he had to carry you into the equipment room. Caring, gentle, loving. Everything that you’ve learned about Seonghwa in the past two weeks shining through in four words.

“Yea.” You swallow harshly, gloved hands moving to adjust the front of your jacket. It’s already pristine, but you need to do something with your hands or else your body will explode, “Good luck.” 

The director calls everyone into show lines before he gets a chance to say “You too.”

* 

It’s always a struggle to get dressed on the bus after a performance. For starters, your band has to get the cheapest buses possible so there are a grand total of three lights which flicker in and out of commission. You’re also one of the only girls, which just makes things weird, but your seatmates are usually pretty good at helping you hide..

Like now, with San holding up your oversized cardigan while you rumble through your book bag in search for clothes. The space is filled with rambunctious chatter, including Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung arguing over who’s going to buy the fried oreos (Yunho suggests three way rock paper scissors, which ends just as poorly as anticipated.) For a brief moment Seonghwa is speaking too, laughing with Jongho about a field judge that they accidentally knocked over, which is the only thing that your brain hears for the next five minutes. 

“(Y/n,) are you almost done? My arms are getting tired.” Even without seeing the drumline captain you just know that he’s pouting. It’s basically laced into his voice, causing guilt to pang in your chest.

“Yea,” You exhale while pulling out the more comfortable clothing (a dark green crew neck sweatshirt with fuzzy black sweatpants. You’ve been dreaming of the moment that you get to change since waking up,) “I just can’t see!” The boy chuckles with a nod that shakes the cardigan barrier.

“Hongjoong and Yeosang want me to tell you that they’re leaving and they hate you-”

“San that’s not what I said!” 

“Hongjoong is saying to never speak to him or his family ever again.” The drum major sighs dramatically before slapping the side of Sans head, causing the boy to cry out like a child. A laugh bubbles out of your throat as the sweatpants come to a halt on the curve of your waist.

“I’ll text you where we’re sitting!” Yeosang calls from the front of the bus, which is now entirely void of people, “Joong I’m leaving you!” 

“They’re a mess.” You grumble while pulling the sweatshirt over your head, “You can go San, I have to repack my bag and stuff.” He drapes the sweater over your head and tosses a packet of fruit snacks into your bag.

“Alright, I’ll probably be with the three amigos.” He’s already halfway out of the bus before you fully process the words, resulting in a giggle.

“Is that what we’re calling Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung?” He smiles the smile that makes his eyes crinkle and flashes a thumbs up before ducking out of the bus, leaving you to hum quietly to yourself. There’s something special about seeing an empty space when it was bursting with energy less than two minutes ago. Clothes are thrown around everywhere, uniforms hanging from cracked windows that let in an autumn breeze, bags thrown haphazardly into seats. Like a mist of peace has been pumped into this broken down bus, and you’re the only person lucky enough to see.

The only person until Seonghwa walks onto the bus, that is. You scramble to hide underneath your seat, praying to every being above that you managed to remain unseen. That you wouldn’t have to endure the painfully awkward conversation that’s about to come. 

“(Y/n?)” He calls. While it sounds sweet, he’s biting back a laugh from the loud ‘thud’ that you made by rolling out of your seat, “Can you get off of the floor?” There’s a small bite in his tone. Where it should make you angry, it just makes you want to cry. 

“No.” You answer, body curling in on itself. A small part of you is genuinely considering staying on the floor, but there’s something sticky about two feet from your hand Seonghwa moving back to where you sit. While the thought of facing him is embarrassing, the thought of him seeing you sitting on this disgusting floor is much worse, “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore.” His nose is almost touching yours when you stand up, sparking a flame in your stomach (you so badly want it to be anger. Red, hot anger. But he’s looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows, warm light flickering against the plane of his face, and you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.)

“I’m sorry.” He swallows heavily, pink tongue smoothing over puffy lips. You try to shove past him, but you’re halted by a hand on your shoulder, “Can we just talk? Please?” Sparkles form in his eyes, twinkling at you like stars. It hurts your stomach.

“No.” The word is hoarse, definite as you harshly push past the boy and storm towards the front of the bus. He’s trailing behind, hands still trying to grab at your own.

“(Y/n!)” The boy pleads, which does nothing to help your growing frustration. If anything it makes the tight coil of anger in your stomach snap, covering your body in nothing but fire.

“Seonghwa!” You bite harshly, turning around so quickly that your foreheads nearly bump together, “Leave. Me. Alone! It’s insanely rude to make someone like you, to kiss someone like the world is ending, to convince them that you care all for some weird sense of validations and then demand that they hear you out. I don’t owe that to you, so stop acting like I do!” Despite the firm words, your feet stay planted in place. As if leaving means that this is over forever.

“I know you don’t owe me that, I just... I want to explain myself, please just let me do that.” The light starts to flicker again, allowing you to see the sharp lines that compose his face. You’re supposed to say no, to leave and sit down in between your favorite people and make fun of other bands horn angles. Every part of you is screaming to go do that.

“You have ten minutes.” Clearly, you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to.

“Okay, well um... I’m a dick? Like, just a huge dick and it’s just now setting in that I can change. S-some part of you showed me that.” When the light flashes across your bodies you can see that his eyes are brimming with tears. They’re different tears from last time; more timid and less silly. You want to dab at the one that spills down his soft cheek, “And I’m sorry. For tripping you in rehearsal freshman year, when your elbow got scraped?” You nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. There’s still scar tissue travelling up your shoulder from that night, “And for telling you that your solo at regional auditions sounded bad. It actually sounded really really good, which you probably already knew... Oh, a-and um for blaming the woodwinds for not knowing their parts, because honestly we didn’t either I was just being... A dick.” You inhale deeply, trying to push down the hope bubbling in your chest. While the words are promising, you know all too well that apologies are meaningless without action.

“Why?” The hope is quickly replaced with tension that’s definitely trying to make you cry.

“Why am I sorry, or why am I a dick?” In any other context it would sound funny, but now it’s just a question. A genuine, innocent question that Seonghwa is asking you with a face twisted into sweet confusion. You shrug with a deep exhale, trying desperately to stall your erratic breathing.

“Either... Both. I just want to know why.” Seonghwa sucks in a breath, then runs his hands through his ink black hair before releasing the air. It’s embarrassing how you follow his movements as if they’re the tip of a conductor's baton.

“Um... Well, I think I was a dick because I thought that having people didn’t matter if you were good. That if I worked hard enough that it wouldn’t even matter that I was lonely, but you have both. Good and loved, not to mention kind. Always so kind.” The light has stopped flickering, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. It doesn’t matter, because his voice wavers slightly at unspoken memories and you know that he’s smiling, “Which is why I’m sorry too, I guess. Because you never did anything to me other than show me that I didn’t have to be like... This.” The next words are so quiet that you barely hear them, “And for making you think that I don’t care about you.” 

“Don’t say things if you don’t mean them.” Your eyes find his through the darkness, locking together like it’s the only thing happening in all of the world.

“I mean it.” It’s a deceleration scribbled into the space between his body and yours, signed by the weight of his hands cupping your jaw, “I care about you.” Goosebumps rise on your forearms as they wrap around the boys slim waist.

“Seonghwa-” There’s probably a right way to do this. A right way to fall for the bane of your existence turned friend. It’s out there somewhere, written up in perfect cookie cutter steps that are easier to follow than words on a page. They definitely don’t include him whispering the affirmation, ‘I care about you,’ against the skin beneath your ear while covering the space in wet kisses.

The boy wraps a hand around the back of your neck before pulling back. You can see him clearer now, all pleading eyes and taunting lips, “Can I kiss you?” It sounds like the climax point of a piece, the part where a chord rings out as the tempo slows just enough to make it itch. You nod while snaking a hand around his jaw.

Seonghwa moves in as if you’ve never kissed before, noses bumping softly. There’s a soft giggle, the rattling of uniform hangers against window panes, and then Seonghwas lips touching yours as if you’re going to break. So much is the same, like how his lips taste like coconut or the spicy scent that floods your nostrils, but it’s different too. Different in the way that he moves against you, in the way that his teeth don’t bite at your lower lip, in the way that his hands cradle every part of you that they touch. He feels like a caricature and more like a person, like a person who’s kissing you softer than you’ve ever been kissed. 

“I like you a lot.” He whispers while moving to kiss the corner of your mouth. Old Seonghwa would tease you for the whine growing in the base of your throat while trying desperately to hide the way that you’re affecting him, “Cute.” He exhales, becoming putty in your hands. 

“Please stop talking and kiss me.” It’s clear that he tries to smirk, but the moment is too soft for it. Too gentle for the fire that his quirked lips elicits in you; instead he gives off a perfectly soft smile. Gentle and caring, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” His thumb runs across your cheekbone, then to the crease of your nose, and finally all the way down to the set of your jaw. It feels like he’s setting you on fire, “Okay.” His lips brush yours softly with the movement, followed by him leaning in so terribly slowly. You think to yourself that you’re going to love him.

In the moment before his lips touch yours there are two things; two hearts beating faster than is safe, and his phone ringing loudly. Your eyes shoot open right as the boy mouths ‘fuck!’ with a dramatic eye roll. You offer him a quiet laugh along with a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, “It’s okay, answer it.”

“No, I don’t need to. Just Wooyoung telling me to bring him his wallet.” You nod silently, nearly crying at the way that his hands untangle from you, “I’m really sorry, I wish i could stay but-” You silence him with a quick peck to the lips, he thinks that he’s going to love you back.

“It’s okay.” You whisper, “We can pick this up later.” He really does smirk now, the familiar look tempting you to stay and kiss him until your lips fall off, “Go get his stuff, I want to see the bands!”

After ten minutes of Seonghwa fumbling through Wooyoung's bag in the dark, the two of you finally leave hand in hand. It feels strange, yet at the same time like what’s meant to be.

*

“Seonghwa, wait!” you call as your boyfriend pulls you into the shared bus seat by your book bag straps. He was only trying to be sweet, but unfortunately failed to think about how pulling you would probably result in falling. There’s a yelp, and you tumbling into him, then of course a loud groan as your palm collides with his collarbone. 

“Oh my, oh gosh, I’m an idiot. Ow.” Mingi is laughing at you two, and it’s only a matter of seconds before your so called friends start throwing things, “Let me help you up, also did I mention ow?!” You laugh brightly and press a kiss to his temple before pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

“I think so.” You swat his hand away from your arms and pull out a box of tissues (packed in preparation for the last competition tears that were almost a guarantee,) “I need to check on Joong, okay?” He smiles gently with a nod.

Hongjoong is in the very back seat laughing his ass off while crying violently. It would be weird if he hadn’t done it three times before, each time at the last competition of the season. Sophomore year you asked why he was crying, to which he responded that it makes the crying less awkward. And that it makes everyone else laugh.

“Has anyone told him a joke yet?” You ask while ducking into the huddle of your friends. San is sitting next to the drum major and passing him candy, Yeosang dabbing at his cheeks with tissues that are quickly depleting. He accepts your fresh box with a silent nod. 

“Not yet.” Yunho answers while throwing a sealed water bottle to Mingi, who also has tears rolling down his face.

“Okay um... What do you call a cow with no legs?” The boy looks at you with wide puppy dog eyes and a gummy worm hanging from his mouth, “Pork chop! Oh no, that’s not right wait-” The boy starts to laugh even harder as you shout ‘Ground beef! Stop laughing I meant ground beef please-’ 

“Did she just say pork chop?” Wooyoung asks through a screeching laugh while breaking his way into the circle. You nod as your sides clench, stinging tears burning in the corners of your eyes. Seonghwa eventually comes back too with Jongho, taking purchase in the seat across from the slowly dispersing huddle. Somehow you fall to the floor of the aisle and settle between your boyfriends legs. He plays with your hair in a manner so relaxing that Mingi’s meme rap is barely audible (still audible though, sadly.)

Similarly to the first competition, you fall asleep. Only this time it’s to the drum of your friends shouting excitedly and Seonghwas heart beating in perfect time with yours.

[plctitude]

* hailee steinfeld, cis woman + she/her  | you know juliet 'jet' rothschild, right? they’re 24, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, twelve years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to don't blame me by taylor swift like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole inability to sit properly, constantly tapping her fingers on any surface, never taking shots with chasers, thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hello ! im gel and this is my little goon jet ! lmk if you wanna plot something

full name : juliet carter rothschild . preferred name / nickname : jet . age : twenty - four . birthday : march 15 . sexual orientation : lesbian . relationship status : single . occupation :  barista , musician , music producer . residence : delphinus heights .

history ––

juliet was born into a loving family in southern virginia , williamsburg to be exact . her family wasn’t loaded but they were comfortable enough that juliet could take guitar and piano and drum lessons and play sports and do basically whatever she wanted to try.

unfortunately for her parents , the drums were what really stuck with her . sure , she can still play the other instruments she learned growing up , but the drums were her safe space , her comfort .

nevertheless , they supported her because she was their little girl and as an only child , it was easy to spoil her . she loves her parents , wouldn’t trade them for anything in the whole world . because they were her whole world .

at 12 , her whole world came crashing down . she doesn’t remember much , if she’s being honest . all she really remembers was being pulled out of school and police officers telling her that her parents wouldn’t be back . they weren’t dead , as far as anyone knew , but they also weren’t anywhere to be found .

so her aunt offers to take her in , and juliet moves to irving . she starts going by jet , eager to leave behind the life she knew back in williamsburg . her aunt goes with it , doesn’t want to upset the 12 year old girl who just became an orphan . neither of them really talk about where her parents are , but they both hope they’re still out there , trying to make it back to her .

it takes a year or two but jet gets used to being in irving . it doesn’t just become her aunt’s town , it becomes hers . and the house in delphinus heights becomes her home , too. and when her aunt gets a girlfriend , who’s then a wife , jet is ecstatic . she loves seeing her aunt happy and in love .

at 15 , jet realizes she doesn’t like boys , she likes girls . she actually comes out to her aunt’s wife first – kind of an accident, really – , but everything goes smoothly and she’s never felt freer . at 16 , she meets a girl , a beautiful girl whose eyes rival the ocean , whose smile lights up her nights . and they fall in love , and it’s wonderful and deep and consuming and healing . but this is when jet learns all good things must come to an end . it’s when she’s running home , tears streaming down her face that she learns what heartbreak really feels like . it’s when she sits at her drum set , hole blown through the snare drum , cymbals crashing to the ground , that she realizes how close hate and love sit on a spectrum .

at 17 , she’s about to graduate and go to college when she changes her mind . she’s not going . her aunt’s not happy about it , but jet’s never really wanted anything but music anyway . so she gets a job , then another job , because ‘ if you’re going to stick around , you’re going to help pay the bills ’ . and it’s the beginning of something beautiful .

at 18, she starts producing her own music . it’s just some simple songs , but it’s a sign of progress nonetheless . she saves up money , uses what’s not for bills and rainy day savings to pay for a class . she learns everything she can about music production , music theory , recording , etc.

at 19, she joins a band , and it goes well until it doesn’t anymore . they’re getting gigs , they’re popular , but it’s breaking from the inside because everyone’s convinced they’re going to be the next big thing and their egos swell to the point where they can’t all fit in the same room anymore .

at 20 , she regroups , focuses on her own stuff again . she does some small producing work on the side , helping other artists who aren’t as well versed with the production stuff . it’s good money , good learning opportunity , and good exposure .

at 21 , she gets a job as a bartender on top of her barista job , hoping to save for her own place in irving . she doesn’t really want to move out but her aunt and her wife are trying to start a family . and she doesn’t want to be in the way .

at 22 , her aunt gets pregnant , and with her wife picking up more shifts to cover the impending financial burden of having a baby , jet decides to stay .

now ––

her parents are still missing , but honestly it’s been so long they may as well be dead . she still misses them , sure , but the whole in her heart isn’t as large as it was when she was 12 . at least not for the same reasons .

she’s still producing music , but it’s become more of her job than a hobby . it’s good money , for the most part , but she wants more time for her stuff .

her aunt gave birth last year and jet spends a lot of time with her cousin , frey . she quit her job as a bartender to take over as a full time babysitter , but she doesn’t mind . she loves playing her music for the little boy , though her aunts are weary about her teaching him the drums when he gets older .

she’s still writing and playing music , but she definitely makes time to go out and have a good time because why not ? someday you could just disappear and you would’ve spent your whole life agonizing over trivial things when you could just ~have fun~

her aunt still wants her to go school , tbh because that’s what her parents would have wanted for her . she struggles to bite back the ‘ well my parents aren’t here ’ on the tip of her tongue every time they have that argument .

personality ––

becoming an orphan at such a young age kind of fucked her up , for the lack of a better term . she developed some anger issues as a teen , most of which she would take out on her drum set . lord only knows how many sticks she’s broken .

she love love loves playing the drums . it’s her absolute favorite thing in the world and it helps her calm down , get through a bad day , or even to make a good day even better . it lets her get a lot of her energy out and to her , it’s really the one thing she can count on to never leave . if she’s not near her drums , she’s probably tapping her foot or tapping her fingers on a table . it’s her go-to fidget move , which can get a little annoying .

her one serious relationship showed her how deep she could fall so she’s decided to not let that happen at all costs . she’s more of a hookup kind of gal , and a bit of a heartbreaker at that , but she’s honest with people . she’s not looking for a relationship . not right now , maybe not ever . once she actually has feelings for someone , she’ll avoid them or do whatever else to get over it . can’t get your heartbroken if you never let anyone near it , right ?

she’s a bit of a partier sometimes , especially when she’s got a lot of pent up energy . basically she’s got two sides , a fun party side and a sweet niece side. she’s got a wicked tolerance for alcohol , to be honest , but that sometimes means she’ll get crossed or not eat just so she can feel drunk faster .

she’s not the greatest barista ( think like almost as bad as rachel from friends ) , but she’s gotten a hell of a lot better than when she first started .

she’s gay so she can’t sit properly ever lmao . she’s more likely to sit on top of a table , rather than the chair at the table .

she’s a bit of a dork with puzzles , like she loves doing puzzles . they’re her favorite way to zone out , but no one is allowed to know this except maybe her best friend(s) bc she has a reputation pls

wcs ––

The Ex Girlfriend™ – it was super deep , super intense , and ended super badly

ride-or-die – been best friends since she came to town , literally inseparable , can always count on the two of them to be getting into trouble back in school

music clients – a singer-songwriter she produces for

unlikely or secret friends ? – not really sure what the reason would be but im sure we could come up with one

ex-hookups , current hookups , future hookups - @women : would love to plot these out ! ( just as a warning though , i do not write smut bc im ~uncomfy~ with that but im down for mentions and flirting )

friends of her aunts or something !

favorite coffee shop customers !

ex-bandmate , ex-clients , high school classmates, etc.

big down for literally anything !

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 2) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, duh. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: A wild Deacy appears! Reader was supposed to meet him in this chapter but it got a bit long. I may have awkwardly stuffed in some backstory as well, but I wanted to get through it before we start having more interactions with the members of Queen. I’m a hoe for Hot Space and Cool Cat is such a vibe so I had to throw it in here. If you haven’t heard the original demo with Bowie you should take a listen. The music video concept was sparked loosely by Mitski’s “Happy” video (it’s gory af, be forewarned). I’m aware that the MTV of the 80s definitely would’ve banned anything like that, but it’ll come back around in the plot later on.

Songs Mentioned:

Heart of the Night - Juice Newton

More Than A Feeling - Boston

My Best Friend’s Girl - The Cars

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​

- - - - - - -

February 1982 - Orpheum Theater, Boston

It’s noisy in the cramped green room backstage at the Orpheum Theater in Boston. Gone were the days of grand arenas while tagging along with Hall and Oates. Now only around 2,000 bodies lined the seats out in the house, but you still feel that familiar bubble of nerves as Dawn busies herself around your hair. 

Dawn, your best friend from your two short years at NYU, had agreed to tag along for the short tour to help with your “look.” Not that you ever really had a problem with your usual jeans and t-shirts, but this rock type of glam proved to be a different beast, and Dawn certainly had an eye for style. Her voluminous hair always streaked blonde and crimped to perfection. She’d tried to convince you many times to do something chemical with yours but you held firm to your virgin hair, causing your pre-show routine to run well into an hour and a half to get the desired popular style. You smile up at her as she curls part of your bangs away from your face, truly grateful to have another woman around.

“Babes, please stop moving your head. I’ve had to do the same piece 3 times already.” She tuts at you. “And Eds, I’ve asked you how many times to watch your elbows, jesus christ.”

Eddie tries to cram in even tighter against the wall, keeping to the five tiny spots you’d all wrangled against the mirror. “Ay, I’m trying over here. It takes some effort to get all this together.” He smirks, running his fingers through his already perfectly coiffed hair. A shame really, that it would be utterly destroyed within 15 minutes of being on stage.

“Have we picked a city song for tonight yet? I want to go over it in my head a few times before we go on.” Lawrence calls out, trying to tug on a pair of pants that look a size or two too small for him.

The Limbs had taken to playing one song per show by a famous local artist from the city they were in. Since they only had the one album out, it was a chance to get the audience singing and moving together; to change up the pace. A modified tip from a certain mustached rock legend that the band had started to implement.

“I thought we decided on More Than A Feeling?” Eddie says as he tears his eyes away from his own reflection.

“That’ll be what they expect. I think Bun sounds better on My Best Friend’s Girl,” Rich says simply. He’s attempting some form of stretching routine in the back corner of the room, his extremities bumping up against the walls.

“So Y/N’s taking this one?” Steve asks, lounging across a small loveseat against the wall, his legs dangling off of it delicately. He looks up from whatever song he’s been working on.

“You heard what the label said. They want Y/N more center stage, so to speak, for marketing reasons.” Rich tries folding his body into some sort of pretzel shape. A light “oof,” escapes his lips as he falls backward slightly.

“Ah yes, we need to give the public what they want,” you huff, wanting to roll your eyes if not for Dawn covering your head in a cloud of Aqua Net.

Eddie starts pacing, or at least tries to, “I just don’t get why they’re trying to make her into some Debbie Harry.” He scoffs, “Like that’s ever gonna happen.” 

Dawn glares at him. It was a bit of a low blow, but Eddie was still getting used to sharing the spotlight with you, with him singing lead on almost every other song. 

You were still struggling to find your presence on stage and were more than happy to take a back seat to the boys for the most part. And while some of the band’s other singles were gaining traction, none were close to catching up to Heart of the Night, which was now getting steady airplay and record sales thanks to the absurd music video that hit TV screens everywhere a few weeks back.

“That’s true, Y/N’s much more of a Linda Ronstadt type if we’re throwing out names,” Lawrence grunts out. Finally able to close the button on his skin-tight pants.

A cold laugh erupts from Eddie. “Exactly. It’s the Eighties now if you haven’t noticed. It’s all about edgy sex appeal, and let’s be honest, even Steve has a better chance of-”

“Enough!” Dawn’s voice sliced through the air, the daggers thrown from her eyes flying towards him. She leans down to your level to examine her masterpiece. “You look as sexy as a goddamn playboy bunny, hun. No pun intended.” Her voice softens as she pinches your cheeks.

The room goes mostly quiet for the next few minutes as the local opening band starts to close out their set with their last two songs. Only Rich’s deep breathing, fitting in time to the beat. 

You chew your cherry painted lips, mulling over Eddie’s words. You knew full well that you weren’t exactly the frontwoman the label or the public dreamed of. Hell, you weren’t even supposed to be a frontwoman at all. When you’d finally given in to Rich’s insistent pestering to come have some fun with the boys, you’d been at NYU for two years. You loved your film classes but felt the hole that was left from the absence of playing any type of music. In high school, you’d all show up to a party with a variety of instruments in your grasps. It almost always resulted in a crowd gathering around to listen, joining in with your voices, clicking their beer bottles in time with the beat. It was when you had felt most carefree, and you had ached for that feeling again.

But playing locally turned into recording an album, for which you wrote a song for some dream of a man that only existed in your thoughts. Next thing you knew you were scooped up by Columbia Records, missing classes to attend photoshoots or album release parties. People were listening to your voice, your song, and wanting more. You dropped out of college to the dismay of your parents but were immediately enveloped in your friends' glee, finally reaching the precipice of something they’d only dreamed of. You hated the thought of letting them down in any way but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a fluke, that you had nothing else to give. Destined to fade out as a one-hit-wonder and a disappointment to your best friends in the world. The weight hit your shoulders as you slumped in your seat. 

None of this was supposed to happen, you tell yourself. It never happens like this.

You’re broken out of your daze when there’s a rap at the door and a muffled “5 minutes” from the stage manager behind it. You all stand, waiting for Rich to spread his wings and engulf you in your usual pre-show pow wow. You slide Dawn in next to you in the now group of 6, needing someone steady as an anchor.

“If you’d please, Reverend.” Steve probes, cheekily.

“We’re gathered here today” Rich begins and Dawn giggles. “To bring immense joy to those 2,000 idiots out there, who so willingly sold out our show for us. They deserve a performance played to 200,000, so that’s what we’re going to give them. In the name of our fathers, John, George, Paul, and Ringo. Let’s go give em’ hell.”

“Amen!” you all shout and disband.

As you follow the boys into the dingy hallway leading to the stage, Eddie catches your wrist. He looks at you through his long lashes with an uncharacteristically shy smile that almost never sees the light of day.

“I’m sorry for being a prick, Bun. I shouldn’t have said all that,” he mutters as you continue to walk, not wanting to miss your cue.

“No worries, Eds. You were right though. I’m definitely no Debbie,” you force a chuckle at yourself while a roadie slips your guitar strap onto your shoulders.

“It’s not alright. And no, you’re not,” he says catching your downturned eyes. “You’re Y/N fucking L/N, and you’re just gettin’ started, baby. All you gotta do is take a little bit of the love we all have for you and give some to yourself once in a while, alright?” A grin forms, showing his adorably asymmetrical teeth as he reaches out a hand to ruffle your painstakingly perfected hair. “That’s better. Now let's get out there so you can show the world exactly what kind of frontwoman you are. And don’t be scared to show them a hint of Bunny while you’re at it.” You move your guitar out of the way to pull him in for a close hug. You hear Steve start banging his snare and pull Eddie on to the stage with you, feeling a bit lighter than you had been minutes ago.

You approach your mic and take a look out at the packed, hazy theater.

“Well hello, Bawston!’ Your accent rings out to the faceless figures before you. “Aren’t you all looking fuckin’ fabulous tonight!”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Musicland Studios, Munich

“No, I didn’t say it’s bad, just that it sounds tinny,” Brian argues, crossing his spidery arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. 

“And it’s as if you’ve shoehorned Bowie in there just to mumble in the background incoherently. A waste, really.” Roger tacks on from beside him.

John sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch in the studio. “Just because it’s not your precious red special or your own magic fingers at work, doesn’t mean it’s tinny,” he counters calmly. Trying his best to keep the annoyance from seeping into his voice, knowing that Brian already had anger stemming from John’s earlier composition for the album.

It was the first time this week that all four men were in the studio together. Finishing up Hot Space was proving to be a strain on all of them and the growing rift had caused the men to nearly finish their songs separately instead of in their usual group dynamic. John’s experimentation into different styles, such as funk and disco, had not been willingly received thus far.

“Well, I sound rather fabulous, if I do say so myself. I’m very proud of us, Deacy.” Freddie states, getting up from his own place on the couch and stretching.

“It’s not that, Fred. It just doesn’t sound like us.” Brian sighs, already sensing the escalation of a row coming along.

“Oh please. Not this again...” Freddie huffs.

“That’s because it’s not us. It’s me and Freddie.” John cuts in with a roll of his eyes, landing them on Mack, their producer, who just shrugs and trains his gaze back to the board. 

“That’s for sure.” Roger murmurs out. Now it’s John’s turn to cross his arms as he levels their pointed gazes. He’d worked with Fred for days putting together “Cool Cat,” hoping that the additional vocals from David Bowie would be a selling point for the other two.

With a clap of his hands, Freddie moves about the room. “Why don’t we take a quick break and then give it another listen?” Roger groans. Freddie pats his shoulder as he makes his way over to a radio beside Mack.

John rubs his tired eyes before pushing himself off the couch, eager for a break from the energy in the stale room. “I’m grabbing a coffee,” not offering one to the others as he brushes past Brian on his way out, quickly retreating down the hallway as fast as his legs will carry him.

The remaining three startle a bit as Freddie flips on the radio, Lo & The Limbs hit single pours from it, louder than expected.

“Oh! Oh, yes! Simply marvelous,” he exclaims, jumping up and down lightly. Roger and Brian raise their eyebrows in silent questioning. “This is the band of rascals I was telling you about the other week. They must’ve just broken out here.”

“The yanks you met while in the States?” Roger questions, turning his attention to the song, eager to judge any brimming competition.

“Yes, yes, the wild young lady who swears like the devil and her band of merry giant trees.”

“We have one of those!” Rog nods in Brian’s direction, voice muffled by a cigarette now dangling from his lips.

“Hm, Brain’s more of a willowy spruce, if you will. These ones are giant redwoods. You know American’s. And they have these thick New York accents. I could barely understand a word they were saying at first. What a riot they were.” he remembers fondly.

“I feel as if I’ve heard this before, but I can’t place it.” Brian ponders, almost to himself.

John appears in the doorway, blowing lightly on a steaming mug.

“Probably from that shocking video of theirs, darling,” Freddie waves his hands about. “Oh, you must’ve seen it. They’re all dressed up like they're in Grease or something, and this square of a girl is pinning after the bad boy. But he’s with this slutty little thing. And oh, I can’t recall the details, but in the end, she ends up murdering the slut!” He slaps the table for effect. “But for some odd reason the boy is okay with it all and they run off into the night together, covered in blood.”

“Sounds… spooky?” Roger shrugs. John stifles a chuckle.

“It’s dramatic! And sexy. And obviously working for them.” The wheels already turning in his head.

John tunes out their chatter and trains his ears to said song, which is about halfway through. The instrumentals seem a bit basic for his taste. The soft strum of an acoustic guitar, a slightly heavier electric over it, with a simple bass line. A female voice flits in.

Cool city moon lays its touch on the room,

Your eyes reach to me

It has a rasp to it. Akin to Stevie Nicks, he thinks.

Two shadows fall saying nothing at all,

We know what we need

No, not quite. It’s entirely it's own if he’s being honest. He can feel the soul pulsating through words and the power that’s beneath it. One that could probably fit with any genre it should choose. His interest peaked.

In the release, two prisoners are free from the darkness

One more escape surviving the heartache and madness

The raw emotion erupting from the speakers and the lyrics start to paint a picture in his mind, scrambling to fill in the faceless voice.

In the heart of the night

The chorus starts and picks up steam quickly. Male voices begin to fill in on background vocals, blending together seamlessly.

We run like bandits

Two hungry hearts under the gun

Her voice cracks a bit, in a charming way. It must be radiant when heard live.

In the heart of the night 

When we find each other

Were stealing love on the run

In the heart of the night,

Heart of the night 

A small smile plays on John’s lips as the song fades out. They’re good, he muses to himself, a bit intrigued by the song and Fred’s colorful description of the accompanying video.

“A great voice indeed. They’ve got a strong sound going.” Brian chirps up.

“That’s her first swing at writing, too. Wish it had been that bloody easy for us.”

“Is she a looker, Fred?” Roger wags his brows.

“Oh please, they’re practically babies! Although that drummer of theirs is certainly something to write home about… Even with the head of hair he has. A bit like a mushroom. A cute one.” Freddie ponders, stroking his full mustache.

John reaches up and pats the tight curls atop his own head, wondering how it would look if he ceased from trimming his current short perm.

“I do hope they catch on here. What fun that would be.” John readily nods along without realizing it.

Freddie switches off the radio and turns back to the other three men. “Alright back to it then. Queue it up, Mac,” placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Columbia Records, New York City

“Why are the undersides of my knees sweaty? I’m not a back of the knee sweat kind of guy, alright?” Lawrence fidgets, adjusting his collar for the fourth time in two minutes.

You casually gulp down your third glass of water while staring at the wood-paneled walls of the office. Attempting to avoid the gazes of a number of gold discs lining the walls, the echoes of your musical idols. They seem to be laughing at you.

Steve partakes in his trademark bouncing routine, the chair underneath him squeaking in a violent rhythm. “Do you think it’s the video? It has to be the video or we wouldn’t be in this office. I knew we shouldn’t have taken that big of a risk right out of the gate.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You basically doused yourself in the blood when Eddie pitched it!” Rich cuts in, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found.

“What! It was your idea for the--”

The door behind where the group is gathered swings open and in strides a stocky man with a full beard and tinted aviator sunglasses still covering his eyes.

“What are we all standing around for? Sit, sit, sit, c’mon.” His gruff Brooklyn accent ringing out as he moves to sit behind a large mahogany desk.

The Limbs scramble to fit on the couch across from him, with you ending up perched on the armrest, gripping Rich’s bicep for support.

The man, Walter Yetnikoff, CEO and Chairman of Columbia Records, grunts as he eases into a leather chair, finally removing his glasses, revealing surprisingly kind eyes, “Jeez louise, look at you kids. You look as if a nun just caught you all playing with each other’s junk. What’s with the faces?”

“Mr. Yetnikoff, we’d like to sincerely apologize for the backlash that has come from our video. We should’ve known better than that. We could’ve toned it down… a lot.” Eddie rushes out. He wipes his hand over his too-snug tailored pants, probably leftover from days of youth choir.

Walter barks out a laugh. “I’ll admit I was a little shocked to find out that’s what you needed a high school gym for, but relax a little, will ya? You’re not here to be scolded. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to get it airtime.”

The Limbs visibly relax- a tad, but their eyes all stay wide.

“Well aren’t ya gonna ask why you’re all here then?”

“W-why are we here?” Rich asks quietly. “Sir.” He adds.

“It seems that the slight PR crisis of a video you made has made its way across the pond,” Walter smirks.

“You mean…” Steve trails off in a voice two octaves higher than usual.

“You kids better like air travel because there’s gonna be a lot of it in your near future. The hit has broken into the London airwaves and they’re not as god fearing as viewers here seem to be. We’re sending you over there next week now that you’ve wrapped up the tour.”

“Holy shit!” Lawrence yells. You feel yourself falling back off your perch as your large friends all jump to their feet. Rich’s gangly arm luckily catches you and pulls you immediately into a suffocating hug. “You did this, Bunny!” He screams in your ear. “You did this!”

“Alright, alright, you can all go celebrate and drink your faces off in a second,” Walter calls out over the group who immediately shut their mouths. “We have a few details to iron out but I’m hoping to send you over there for a full press tour. Photoshoots, interviews, talk show appearances. The works, you got it.”

Steve lets out a squeal of delight, his voice not yet returning to its usual bass.

“You.” He points a stubby finger in your direction. “I’m waiting to hear back about a last-minute cancelation on some game show out there. We’re gonna try to get you in. You know your shit?”

“W-what kind of shit, sir?” You ask from the bear hug that Rich still holds you in.

He holds up his hands, gesturing to the gold discs that surround him. “Music, my dear.”

All you can do is nod, not wanting to think about what that even entails.

“That’s what I like to see. Now get outta here so you can all combust somewhere outside of my office. We’ll call you in a few days. Get those bags ready, you hear me?” He waves you all off.

Before you have a chance to say anything, the boys are sweeping you out of the room. And off to the start of whatever comes next, you guess.

[shipyard98]

“The Cigarette Book” - Chapter 4: Neon Moon (Josuke’s Story)

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Josuke Higashikata x Reader

Word Count: 1926

Rating: T for Teen (swearing and alcohol usage)

Summary:  You're about to go out in the world and pursue your dreams. That means leaving Josuke Higashikata, your beloved boyfriend, behind in Morioh. Despite it all, he seems to be taking it well during the last date you two will be having in a while. He seems to be taking it almost too well...

Author’s Note: Heyo! I just made a Ko-Fi page! If you feel like supporting me and my works, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi! It’s not necessary, but it does help. Anywho, onto the story!

(link to story)

The summer sun made a faint glow as it set over the horizon. It made the hills and trees of rural Morioh to cast shadows wherever it could reach. Stars peeked through the veil of twilight, just barely visible next to the full moon.

It was the perfect night to be out.

Your eyes darted from left to right along the railroad tracks. Nothing was coming from either side, and no train whistle could be heard for miles.

Quickly, you skipped over the tracks and made your way towards the run-down bar ahead of you.

It was one of those old-fashioned places, with cracks forming in the outer wall and a big neon sign hanging on the front of the building. The sign spelled out “Neon Moon” in big bold letters. Meanwhile, it made a soft buzzing nose every time the light flickered, like it was threatening to switch off at any second.

Your arms reached forward and pushed the door to the bar open.

A quick look around told you everything.

The place wasn’t too popular, but there were plenty of patrons around the bar this evening. Some sat in the bar stools, chattering with each other over large glasses of spirits. Some took to the dance floor and rocked with each other while the small band on the low stage played a funky number. And then some were sitting at the tables, either all alone or with a date.

One lone person at these tables stood out to you. How could he not stand out, with his push-pin pompadour and his piercing blue eyes that shined as soon as they laid their focus on you.

This guy stood up and made a beeline towards you, shoving past a few people in an impatient rush. Of course, he was apologizing as he shoved past the other patrons, but only halfheartedly. He just wanted to get to you.

“Babe!” he bubbled out the minute he threw his arms around you. “You came!”

“Of course, I came, Josuke,” you giggled into his chest. “Why would I not come to see you tonight?”

“I got worried that you might’ve left early or something,” he said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “If that ended up being the case, I would’ve dashed to the airport in a heartbeat. Like one of those super cheesy romance movies, you know?”

You craned your neck up and gave Josuke what was intended to be a peck on the lips. He smiled and let himself melt into your kiss, turning the peck into a near make-out right there at the entrance of the bar.

Judging by the taste on his tongue, you knew he had started drinking before you got there.

“C’mon,” he took you by the hand. “Let’s talk for a bit, huh?”

It was a blessing that Josuke was taking the lead, as he was a bit of a gentle bulldozer. He could easily push past the small crowd, but he was still apologizing left and right as he did so. The whole time, though, he didn’t let go of your hand. Holding your hand had to be one of his all-time favorite things to do, after all.

He had to let go of your hand the minute you reached the table he was sitting at.

As soon as you sat down, you noticed that there were quite a few empty glasses on the table. It made you kind of sit back and stare in awe at your boyfriend. You knew he was soft hearted and somewhat of a “diamond in the rough”, but you never thought for a second that his alcohol tolerance would be that high. He was gracious enough, however, to leave you a glass of your go-to alcohol in front of you.

He plopped down in the seat across from you and took a hold of the only other full glass on the table.

“Might as well do a toast, right?” he declared. “Well, here’s to you! Here’s to a bright future up ahead! May your endeavors be fruitful and all that jazz.”

He obviously wasn’t too good at making toasts, but the effort was enough to get you to smile. You brought up your glass and clinked it against his.

While you just took a sip of your drink, Josuke downed his in one fell swoop.

Watching him power through his drink, it dawned on you that he never drank that much. You had been on a few dates with him to the Neon Moon, and every time, it would end up with lusty, make-outs and going back to somebody’s place for a night of private fun. In all of those dates, never had you seen him drink like that. As a matter of fact, you were both usually pretty sober at the end of those dates.

Something was wrong here.

A blush spread across Josuke’s cheeks, and he chuckled a little to himself before continuing.

“Yep, you’re gonna be out there, making a name for yourself. You’re gonna go out there, leave this little town behind, and become a shining, sparkling diamond amongst pebbles. Just like you were destined to. Finding things that are greater than here. Greater than m-.”

You put your glass down.

“Josuke, are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” He put his glass down next to the other three empty glasses on the table. “Psssh, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay? I think the alcohol’s gone to my head a little, but it’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve never let the alcohol get to your head. You’re acting really funny, and I’m worried about you. Please, babe, tell me what’s wrong.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity. There were sounds coming from every direction, but none from him. If you looked hard enough, you probably would’ve noticed that his lower lip was trembling a little bit.

“Josuke?”

Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall. His face contorted into a deep, sorrowful expression and he

“I can’t keep it down anymore,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He lurched forward with his face in his hands and he wept like a baby.

You started to get up so you could go around and comfort him, but he whipped his head back up to look you in the eyes before you had a chance to.

“I know I should be happy for you.” He choked between his sobs. “I really, REALLY should be happy for you. You’re going to go do something you’ve always wanted to do, and I just want you to be happy. But in all honesty, I’m scared. I’m so damn scared that you’re just going to leave me here and never ever come back. I mean, you know that I’m a true love kind of guy, so I don’t fall in love all that often. You’re the first person I’ve ever really fallen in love with, you know? But now that I’ve fallen, I don’t… I don’t want to lose it. Without you here, I’m just going to sit here alone and think of you, and spend every night doing just that.”

You reached over and patted him on the hand.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed at him. “It’s going to be okay. There’s nobody in the world that could replace you, and that’s how it’s going to stay. Besides, I’ll come back one day.”

“One day may be never! One day, you might decide that you don’t want to be with someone like me.”

“Don’t say that!” you grabbed his hand with both of yours. “You have my heart forever and always.”

“… I do?”

“Yes, of course, you do.”

He wiped the tears off his face with his free hand.

“If that’s true, then…” He bit his lip in that way he always did when he was unsure about something. “Do you think you could make me a promise?”

“What’s the promise?”

Without letting his hand free of yours, he got up out of his chair and reached into his coat pocket.

“I was planning on being a little sober for this, but I got super nervous all of a sudden. But I have a clear mind when I ask…”

He dropped down on one knee.

Out of his pocket came a little golden ring, endowed with a few small but sparkling diamonds. He held it up lose to your hands.

“Will you marry me?”

One of your hands flew up to your mouth in surprise. The beat of your heart was like that of a marching band drum, and a flurry of different thoughts and emotions flashed in your head.

“I mean, we don’t have to get married right this minute, but when you get back, you know? Ever since we started dating, I kept thinking about making you my wife. How we could get out of here and move to a bigger city. Maybe start a family or something, but that’s just me daydreaming. Look, I’d give you the whole world if I could, and--!”

You dropped down and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his chest again. His shirt was very quickly soaked by your own tears. All he could do was sit there in a shocked silence, his mouth hanging agape.

“Yes… Yes, of course, I’ll marry you,” your muffled voice swooned.

Josuke snapped out of his dazed confusion and grabbed you by the shoulders so he could look you in the eye.

“You… You mean that?!”

The huge smile on your face and the nod of your head were indicator enough for him that you were completely serious.

“When I come back next spring, I'll bring you with me. We can live together and do all those things you dreamed of doing.”

He slipped the ring on your finger and quickly pulled you into a deep kiss. You accepted it and kissed back with a greater passion than ever. Some of the nearby patrons who had been looking on applauded the engagement.

“Hey fellas!” one of the patrons called to the band. “Why don’t we get some slow dance music for these two?”

The guy with the bass guitar nodded, and with a silent count off, they played a soft, slow beat.

Some of the couples already assumed position and danced with each other to the steady beat of the music. Even the lights dimmed so that people were just dancing amongst a blur of shadows.

Flattered by the Neon Moon’s kind gesture, you both stood up hand in hand and made your way over to the dancefloor.

The patrons parted way for you and your boyfriend, making a circle around you.

Josuke held you close to him as you both swayed to the beat of the music. Your head rested against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his proud and swelling heart.

The two young lovers were free of the rest of the world for a little bit. There was nowhere to be, nothing to fight for, nobody who could stand in between you. It was just him and you in that little, run-down corner of the world, dancing to the dreamy music that floated in the air and between bodies.

For a second, you looked up at him, your eyes half-lidded but sparkling.

“How’re you feeling now?” you mumbled.

He looked down at you and smiled hazily.

“I think I’m going to be alright, as long as there’s light from the Neon Moon.”

[zairapvrker]

what happens in vegas // calum hood

Author’s Note: Y’ALL!!! I’ve wanted to write this for a g e s and yesterday I was watching that episode of Friends -if you know, you know- and this whole thing came to mind. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: You decide to join your best friend Calum in his band’s end of tour celebrations in Vegas and things get rather... interesting.

masterlist

He hadn’t expected you to show up for the end of tour celebrations but he probably should’ve seen it coming since he did notice his bandmates being sneaky from time to time. He was so happy to see you for he hadn’t in so long, last time was halfway through tour.

As soon as you had spotted the table he and his friends were seated at, enjoying their first late breakfast in a while, you went up to them. Everyone else pretended not to see you as you covered Calum’s eyes with your hands. “Guess who?” you gingerly asked, he spinned around immediately and engulfed you in the tightest hug. “Y/N!” he hadn’t seen you in too long. “Cal, you’re crushing me” you laughed lightly as he stepped back murmuring a soft “Sorry” along with a shy smile. You decided to ignore the flips your stomach was doing at the sight, completely unaware of the alarmingly loud thrumming of your best friend’s heart.

Of course, the first thing in order for the night were drinks, so that’s how you found yourself in some random club in Las Vegas surrounded by all your friends, who were already all very tipsy. You laughed as you saw Michael‘s attempt at twerking up against a very amused Ashton, while Luke was recording it all - Crystal and Sierra doubling over in laughter. You sipped your drink, trying to suppress the ugly laughing, as Luke pocketed his phone declaring he was gonna teach his friend how to properly twerk - making everyone almost fall out of their seats.

The night was quick to escalate after that and you somehow ended up stranded at the bar, chatting with Calum. You weren’t quite sure what you were talking about, what nonsensical matter had you so happy and giggly and warm inside, although that was the usual when with your best friend - of course aided by the alcohol in this case. “I’ve missed you, doll” he said once the giggles had quieted down, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart clench. “Missed you too” you answered. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?” he asked. “What about the others?” you questioned, looking at the crowd of people and barely spotting them. “They’re old enough to find their way back to the hotel” he waved off, then grasping your hand in his and marching out of the bar into the chilly night.

Somehow the two of you had ended up in front of the Bellagio Hotel, admiring the fountain show with wide eyes. Calum brought you closer to him, sneakily sliding his arm around your waist until your back was resting against his chest, his chin on top of your head. He hoped you couldn’t hear his quickened heartbeat, luckily for him you were also preoccupied with similar thoughts. “Let’s take a look around here” Calum said after the show ended, you simply nodded following his lead. By now it was clear that you were just wandering around, pointing at things you found amusing and laughing about them for minutes - letting the intoxication clouding your minds just enough.

As you strolled down a strangely quiet road he suddenly asked “Should we get married?” making you stop dead in your traks, also bringing him to a halt. Your head cleared for a second and your jaw dropped, if you had a drink no doubt you would’ve spat it. “What?” you exhaled, shoked. “There’s a chapel every twenty steps! Maybe it’s a sign” he gestured with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. You scoffed a laugh “We’re in Las Vegas, Cal. That’s one of the main things this city is known for!” you tried to reason, but you couldn’t deny that your heart felt like it was a second away from bursting out of your chest and your stomach was clutched in a seriously tight knot. He nodded, seemingly taking a minute to think, looking at your intertwined fingers. You followed his gaze but when you looked up again, he was down on one knee. “Cal...” you whispered, suddenly his light touch on your hand burning like fire.

“When we were nine some guys were making fun of me because I still couldn’t ride a bike properly and fell from time to time. You made them shut up and go away reminding them that they still couldn’t ride a skateboard for the life of them, and offered me one of your Spiderman bandaids. Then we went for ice cream with your babysitter and we promised we would be best friends forever” you smiled fondly at the memory, feeling tears burn at the back of your eyes. “I’d very much like to honour that promise” he ended with a low voice. You kneeled down as well, grasping both his hands in yours. “Promise me this then” you said with a shaky voice, watching him nod while inhaling.

“Promise that these drunken words are also sober thoughts” you watched him intently as a smile appeared on his face. “I promise” he stated seriously, at that you started nodding. “So you’ll marry me?” he asked again, the hint of a laugh in his voice. “Yes, I will” you answered, starting to laugh. You watched as Calum took the ring off his pinky and slid it onto your left ring finger, the both of you giggling at the fact that it was still too big. “Let’s go get married!” you yelled, hugging him, as he sneaked a kiss onto your lips before the two of you took off, hand in hand, running to the nearest chapel.

The first thing that hit you when you woke up was a headache, but you knew where that came from, still remembering the drinks downed the night prior. The next thing, however, you had trouble placing. You knew you had drunk enough to remember at least something the next day, but all memories came to a halt after the one of you can Calum exiting a chapel.

Hold the fuck up. A chapel?! You sat up abruptly, not caring for the arm wrapped around your waist, as you stared at your left hand in disbelief. Wrapped around your ring finger stood a gorgeous diamond ring along with a wedding band. You looked to your right, less surprised than you would’ve normally been to find Calum laying there, but the panic quickly set in again as you noticed a wedding band on his finger. The memories from the night before were hazy but definitely there, so you took a second to calm down. You walked in circles around the room, trying to relax and breathe in deeply. Too bad it didn’t really work. “Calum!” you shook him a little, but that didn’t work, so you picked up your pillow and smacked him with it. “Calum wake up!” that worked.

“What?” he asked with a voice full of sleep, low and husky. Deciding to ignore what that did to you, you dove straight into the news. “We uhm, w-we got married last night” the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. At least you knew tears weren’t on their way. He looked slightly surprised for a second, his gaze shifting towards both your hands, then he breathed in deeply. The air was thick with tension, the situation very new and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around the room - anything but meeting his dark, warm eyes. You felt him shift, sitting up to mirror your stance.

You were afraid to ask anything, because you remembered his words and yours as well. Yet, neither had clearly spoken about their intentions. The air was getting almost too to heavy to breathe. “Do you want to get an annulment?” he asked, almost cautiously, scared. You, however, were left speechless. “What do you mean?” you let out in a whisper. He stood up, sighing, and lightly stretching before rubbing his face. “I mean, do you want to get an annulment? We’re still in time, I think, before we have to go get a divorce-“ before he could finish the sentence you stopped him. “I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who wanted to get married?” you couldn’t help raising your voice just a little in shock. “We were drunk, Y/N” he stated seriously, one shoulder leaning on the door frame of the bathroom. At that you couldn’t help but flinch, hurt from his words - cutting you deep. You stood up as well, trying not to let the breaking of your heart in a million pieces stop you from talking back. “Yes, but you remember, don’t you?” you asked, taking one step closer. “You promised, Cal. So why did you change your mind?”

His arms uncrossed, falling to his sides. “I just don’t think it’d be the best choice for you” his voice was calm, he was trying to hide his real emotions and you could tell. “What do you know what’s best for me?! I said yes, didn’t I?” you couldn’t keep your calm as he was. He huffed, hands balling up into fists. “You were drunk enough to!” he finally matched your level of aggravation. You were shaking your head, arms crossed. This couldn’t be happening. “You seemed pretty convinced last night. Apparently, I was wrong” you turned around, partly to hide the tears you knew were coming but also to try and take the ring off your finger.

“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t want to stay married to someone who doesn’t love me!” he cut himself off, making you stop dead in your tracks as you inhaled sharply. “I just..” he sighed, defeated. “I don’t want you to stay married to me because it’s not fair to you” you heard him exhale and turned around. He was playing with his ring. “It’s not fair because I know you don’t love me the way I love you” As soon as the words left his mouth if felt as if time had stopped, all the air in your lungs had been knocked out of them and your brain had completely stopped working. You blinked once, letting the tears that had pooled in your eyes stream down your cheeks, your heart beating furiously. “Y-you...” you stuttered shakily. “I’m in love with you - I think I’ve always been. And I know you don’t feel the same but I guess the alcohol gave me the courage I needed to do the thing I wished I could, maybe in another lifetime” he was trying really hard not to break down in front of you. “I would’ve never expected you to say yes, but you did, and I blamed it on the drinks. I suppose I just wanted to live out my dreams, even if for a short while” he looked at you, his eyes burning from the tears he was trying hard to hold back, but seeing you cry in front of him he couldn’t help letting a few slip. “So I’m sorry for putting you in this situation, it was selfish of me”

You couldn’t let the man in front of you suffer any more than he already was, it was breaking your heart that your silence was doing this to him. So you went up to him, ignoring the slight confusion in his eyes, and wrapped your arms around his figure. Slowly, he hugged you back, holding you close. “It was selfish of me to never let you know that I’ve been in love with you for forever” you said against his chest. He let go of you, putting some distance between your bodies. “You’re just saying that” he said, hurt. You shook your head.

“I’m not. I would never just say that” you assured him. “And I would’ve never agreed to marry someone I don’t love with every ounce of my being” you let your hand trail lightly up his arm, until it reached his face, your thumb tracing the shape of his lips softly. He was watching you so intently that his gaze almost burned. “I love you” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

He was looking deep into them for any sort of insecurity or insincerity, but he found there to be none. Slowly, a beaming smile formed on his lips, making one appear on yours as well. “And I love you”

As the two of you reached the hotel lobby, finally meeting the rest of the group you hadn’t seen since the night before, a few knowing looks were exchanged. “So, where did the two of you run off yesterday?” asked Michael wiggling his eyebrows, earning a playful slap on the arm from Crystal. “Couldn’t even wait to get back to the hotel to hook up?” cut in Ashton, with a wide smirk.

You and Calum looked at each other holding back the laugh that was trying to escape the both of you, so lifting up your left hand - which was intertwined with his right one - you said “Actually, we got married.” A choir of “What the actual fuck?!” and “Oh my God!” accompained by happy squeals followed, before you were drowned by your friends questions and demands to see the ring. The both of you laughed, the amount only increasing when Luke exlaimed “Man, I knew you two would’ve ended up together, I just thought I’d be there to give my wonderful speech!”

[back-on-my-bullsh]

Band-Ten-Heart

Summary: A long bus ride provides Peter the perfect opportunity to tell you how he feels. Now all he needs to do is actually talk to you.

Warnings: Fluff! cursing, some angst if you use a magnifying glass, probably some improper comma usage, marching band lingo.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Here it is! My very first fic :D A lot of this is based off of my own experiences in high school marching band so, y’know, take this with a grain of salt or whateva. Feedback is always appreciated so... let me know what you think, I guess.

“Hey Peter?”

Peter’s eyes shot up from his phone to meet yours across the aisle of the bus, his brows raised.

“Could you hold this for me?” Peter glanced down at your outstretched arms to see you holding a mirror towards him. He nodded, taking it from you and holding it out so you could see yourself in it.

“Doing makeup on the bus? A bit risky, don’t you think?” Peter gave you a concerned smile.

“Occupational hazard,” you shrugged, “they don’t usually give us time to do it there.” Peter hummed in affirmation as he watched you paint long strokes of pastel colors around your eyes.

“Pretty impressive,” he said, admiring your precision.

You paused to smile up at him, “lotsa’ practice, I suppose.” He nodded again and your eyes returned to the mirror so you could keep working.

Peter thought back to all the times he’d arrived at competition sites or rival high schools, only to see you with your makeup and hair perfectly done, ready to take the field. He inwardly cursed his band director for keeping the woodwinds on a separate bus until now. The charter bus taking them to their next competition had enough storage to allow the whole band to fit onto two buses rather than the usual three, and the nearly ten-hour drive had prompted Mr. Keely to allow them to sit on whichever bus they pleased.

Peter had immediately decided to join you with the rest of the color guard, determined to finally ask you out. He even managed to snag the seat across the aisle from you. His confidence wavered, however, when he realized he had no earthly idea what to say to you. The two of you were friendly, sure—you’d been going to school together for years—but you’d never been close.

But Peter was intent on changing that now. He’d spent nearly all of the trip trying to come up with a topic of conversation until you had finally hit him over the head with one, and now he couldn’t stop staring at you long enough to think of what to say.

“You good, Pete?” Peter’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” he blushed, “just admiring your handiwork. You’re really good at that,” he nodded towards you as you continued painting the intricate design on your face.

“Thanks,” you replied with a warm smile, and Peter swore it was brighter than the sun.

“I wish I was that talented,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Parker,” you quipped with a smirk, “I saw you on Opposite Day this summer. That eyeliner? Snatched.” Peter let out a laugh, genuine and bright.

“I wish I could take credit for that,” he chuckled, “that was all my aunt, though.”

Your hand flew to your chest as a look of shock covered your face, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

“How do you know my middle name?”

“You mean to tell me that for the past two and a half months you just let me believe you were a secret beauty guru?” You scoffed at him, “I have never felt so betrayed.”

Peter bit back a laugh as you continued to scold him. “Honestly, Peter,” you paused to dig through the bag of makeup next to you, pulling out a tube of lipstick before meeting his eyes once again, “I’m not sure our friendship can survive this.”

“No! Don’t say that,” Peter faux-pleaded, a smile tugging at his lips. “How do I make this better?” He grabbed your wrist gently and gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

Your facade broke as you burst into a fit of giggles and the sound made Peter’s heart flutter. “I suppose I can let you off the hook since you have been holding my mirror for like twenty minutes,” you teased, a warm smile plastered on your face.

Peter smiled back as he pretended to wipe his brow, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. When he looked back to you, your eyes were looking down at your lap. He quirked his head and followed your gaze to find that his hand still attached to your wrist. A blush rose in his cheeks as he quickly pulled away, mumbling a “sorry,” before returning his hand to the mirror.

You chuckled as you turned your attention back to your reflection, swiping on a lavender lipstick and smacking your lips together a few times before leaning back to admire your work.

“What do you think?” Peter’s eyes met yours once again and he couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face.

“Looks really good,” he nodded.

“Is it more ‘magical fairy princess’ than last week?”

“Dunno,” he confessed, “missed last week’s game.”

“Right, the internship,” you recalled, taking the mirror back from him and swapping it for your phone. “Mind taking a few pictures?” Peter shook his head, taking your phone and snapping a few shots of you from different angles. You thanked him while and pulling some makeup wipes out of your bag.

Peter furrowed his brows, “Wait, why are you taking it off?” He watched the design smudge and fade away as you wiped your face.

“Well for starters, we’re still like, five and a half hours from the competition site,” you joked, “and for seconders, this was just a test. The judge at the last competition complained that the makeup wasn’t readable but I haven’t had time since then to adjust it so I’m doing it now.” You finished cleaning your face, tossing the wipes back in your bag before standing and returning it to the storage compartment above your seat. You grabbed your phone from him as you sat back down, “Gotta send those to the rest of the guard so they know what to fix later,” you mumbled before turning in your seat to fully face Peter, sticking your phone between your thigh and the blue velvet of the seat cushion.

“Can I ask you something, Pete?” He nodded and you continued, “You haven’t been around a ton since you got the Stark internship, which sucks ‘cause I know the c-nets could really use you,” Peter watched your fingers fidget with your sweatpants as you rambled and he wondered what it would be like to feel them intertwined with his own. “And I get that it probably takes up a lot of your time which begs the question,” you tapped his leg with your foot and he looked up at you, “how come you didn’t just quit?”

Shit. Peter inwardly cursed as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. This was it. This was his chance to tell you how he felt. To tell you that he would’ve quit ages ago if this wasn’t the only time you saw each other. He wanted to tell you that he’d been stretching himself thin for over a year just so he could spend time with you. That he’d quit every other extracurricular in order to be Spider-Man but couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you every day, so he stayed. He didn’t even like the stupid clarinet, he’d only picked it up to make May happy.

“I, uh-“ he stuttered, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Not that I want you gone, or anything,” you were quick to correct yourself. Peter’s heart raced as he felt you slide your hand into his, “I’m just worried, Pete. You seem real tired and yesterday you kept messing up your drill and you almost got hit with a flag…” you trailed off, rubbing small circles onto the back of his hand with your thumb and Peter thought he might burst.

He took in a deep breath before meeting your gaze, your eyes were filled with concern and he swore he could get lost in them for all eternity. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, instead he let out a long sigh and pressed his eyes shut.

Fuck it.

“I didn’t want to quit because I was afraid I wouldn’t see you,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed tight.

He felt your thumb come to a stop on the back of his hand before you slowly pulled your hand away entirely and Peter’s heart sank. He wished he could take it back, return to the friendly banter you’d had just a few minutes ago before you asked that question. Why’d you have to ask that question?

“Hey Mark?” Peter’s eyes flew open and he whipped his head towards the boy sitting next to him.

Mark turned to look at you, brows raised. “Would you mind swapping seats with me? Peter and I are gonna watch some Star Trek.” Peter swiveled in his seat once more to give you a confused look.

“Sure, whatever.” Mark grabbed his stuff and shuffled past Peter into the aisle while you did the same.

Peter was sure his heart was about to burst out of his chest when you plopped down next to him, pulling your laptop out of your backpack and resting it on your lap. Peter just watched as you queued up an episode of Next Generation, unsure of what was happening.

You plugged in a pair of headphones, putting one in your own ear and handing the other to him. Peter’s skin burned as his hands brushed yours. His mind was short-circuiting; there were so many possible outcomes to his confession and he honestly didn’t know which one this was. Were you just ignoring it? Forcing the moment away with sheer willpower?

You pressed play and the episode started but Peter wasn’t paying attention. His only focus was your presence beside him. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to say something. He opened his mouth to speak but you raised a hand to stop him.

“Nope. Me first.” Peter closed his mouth and put on a tight lipped smile. “You know, there’s a long-standing tradition in almost every marching band on earth,” you started. “Well, less of a tradition and more of a universally acknowledged truth, and that is ‘guard kids date percussionists’.” Peter’s heart fell as the pieces clicked together. This was a rejection.

“For the most part, it’s true. Did you know the last three people I dated were all drummers?” Peter shook his head at this, biting his bottom lip in an effort to keep tears from welling in his eyes. “Yeah, two from drumline, one from pit.”

“I don’t see how thi-“

“Uh-uh. Still me.” Peter sighed as you pressed on. “I think it’s because our personalities mesh so well. Drummers are cocky, they have to be to lead the band like they do. And color guard? You’ve got to be one stubborn, confident motherfucker to toss around a six foot metal pole all day.” Peter just nodded, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“But drummers are also assholes,” you sighed and Peter could feel your eyes on him. “Peter, I’m getting real fuckin’ sick of dating assholes.”

Peter’s eyes widened as your words registered. He slowly turned to meet your gaze as you continued, “Clarinets, on the other hand?” You rolled your eyes in mock indignation. “Clarinets are awkward, oblivious, fumbling nerds,” you paused, searching for the right words, “but they’re also sweet, attentive, and wicked smart.”

Peter’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it from your seat beside him. What is happening??? A million thoughts were going through his head as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“My point is…” you shut your eyes, drawing in a deep breath and Peter’s heart leapt into his throat. “Peter Parker,” your eyes met his again, “I’m really glad you didn’t quit.” Your voice was practically a whisper as you leaned towards him, and Peter thought he must be dreaming.

Your lips met his in a gentle kiss and Peter could hear your heart beating as quickly as his own. You pulled back after a moment, bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your gaze fixed on him. Peter’s eyes looked between your own before he brought a hand to your cheek and pulled you back towards him. His lips crashed into yours and he cursed himself for waiting five whole hours before doing this.

You giggled into the kiss and Peter’s heart fluttered at the sound. He wanted to stay like this forever, lips pressed against yours, feelings of mutual longing finally being hashed out. That feeling intensified as your tongue swiped across his bottom lip, silently asking permission. He granted it enthusiastically, parting his lips and dancing his tongue with your own. He felt you shift below him as you moved your laptop to the side and lifted the armrest separating your seats before threading your fingers through his hair. Peter moaned at the feeling of you tugging his curls and he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

The two of you sat like that for a few seconds, catching your breath and processing what had just happened. You pulled away slowly, eyes never leaving his own. The smile etched on your face made Peter’s stomach do flips.

“You know what else is great about clarinet players?” Peter hummed, already leaning in to kiss you again.

“Talented tongues.”

Tagging some people, I guess:

@holland3000 @marvellousparkerpeter @stuckonspidey @hillsnholland@keepingupwiththeparkers @madmadmilk @definitely-not-black-cat@afterglowparker @dtftomholland @lousimusician @spideyyeet @starksparker@wazzupmrstark @toms-gf @spideypeach @mjandliz @webbedparkers@moorehollandplz @hollandlovely @thirsttrapholland @marvellousparkerpeter@spidey-starks @mcuspidey @gyllenwh0re @mrs-hollandstan @condy-wants-a-cookie @edgy-hufflepuff-bro @pink16panther @makylaolson16 

[i-love-him-on-purpose]

the half of it liveblog

LET’S GO I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SINCE MARCH hi. my name is abby, and this is me watching the half of it

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

i have big gay expectations for this movie

as an asian wlw, i do NOT want to be disappointed

starting NOW

fuck YES this animation is beautiful

plato. this movie is already calling out my dumb gay ass

they did really good casting with ellie! imagine having a movie with high schoolers that LOOK LIKE HIGH SCHOOLERS

chugga chugga chu chu? SQUARE UP BITCH

OMG paul and ellie’s first meeting is iconic

“i’m not looking to cheat” “no one is”

“gET a thESaURus uSE a speLLcHecKer gOOd luCk rOMeo”

this is an accurate representation of hold times istg

IS THIS A MEET CUTE?!

aster looks so tired but wowowowowow she is hecking beautiful

ellie is a disaster gay

exhibit 1: staring at aster in band

exhibit 2: “i’m ellie chu?!?!?!”

exhibit 3: more staring in the hallway

staring/longing is the peak gay experience

she is FINALLY charging acceptable prices for writing

i’d ask $15 for two page

maybe she just loves writing

can’t relate

“SHE’S LIKE ALL THREE” paul you eloquent mf

he’s a ROMANTIC... but so bad with words omg

“yah my grandma’s dead wanna go out with me”

“love makes you screwy. don’t you get screwy?”

istg you dumb jock ily

in love, one always starts by deceiving oneself... and ends by deceiving others

PAUL OMG

i LOokED uP PLaiGiAriZed

...

wow i had to stop for like 8 minutes there to properly watch their letters play out

the way alice wu spins this story is absolutely gorgeous

aster and ellie are so in sync and understanding of each other

the art, the words, the letters

everything just meshes together perfectly and i’m already in love with their story, whether or not there’s a happy ending

oh ho ho... paul....

no but he’s totally right

dating is burgers and fries and ice cream and whatnot

love is what ellie and aster have been doing– the talking and the listening and the understanding

smithcorona ahaha

“i love... nazis” paul you good there

oh honey you understand nothing

LMAO i love how ellie’s riding away on her bike and paul’s just bent over in the background PERFECTLY poised to pick up a rock

YES! jock + lesbian friendship

“hi ellie chu’s dad” has the same energy as “mr. jack’s dad” and “mr. sir” if u know what i’m talking about (check, please! mutuals hi)

yeSSIR yeSSIR

i love how paul just treats this like drills he has to run

jocks, man

PFPDFSLDKJF HE GOT FASTER AHAHAHA

why do neither of them know how to play ping pong istg

i love one (1) girl that laughs at horror movies

omg my anxious ass would be terrified if i thought someone was watching me

oh, i thought that line was about aster

but it still makes sense in a friendship way

and this IS a friendship movie so it does make sense

my coward ass would’ve never brought a boy home in high school

especially not to my enthusiastic italian father

besides i only ever dated one person and she was a girl and i hadn’t come out to my parents yet

kudos to ellie

oh i just realized that aster’s christian

does that influence her views on lgbtq?

probably

oh, ellie

watching that made me tear up

god, falling for someone who doesn’t know that you’re you

this english teacher is fckin hilarious

and also totally not a romantic lmao

OMG FATHER SHANLEY

AHAHAHAHA

“world’s asleep. more room for secrets”

now THAT’S what love feels like

falling in love with the little things

wait he doesn’t say “you like aster?”

THEY SCAMMED US

...does he support her or not

paul munsky say something

oh he realizes that he doesn’t know what love is not that ellie likes aster

“if love isn’t the effort you put in”

i love this friendship and paul’s quiet wisdom

oh boy there are weird chewing noises

TACO SAUSAGE!

aww paul’s a romantic and ellie’s hilarious

seeing “guy” makes my heart hurt

aw ellie have a little faith in our dumb jock <3

this is so cute and super awkward

i feel like i did this at some point in high school

OMG PAUL WHAT ARE YOU DOING

what just happened

awww he’s so enthusiastic

bitch what the fuck is “a look”

CONSENT

wtf is this a fucking rave

WTF ARE YOU BITCHES DOING

are high schools like this now??? is everyone fucking horrid?

yes girl play your song

wait a sec can they all hear her without a mic

she wrote that? that’s so sweet <3

awwwwwwww

but that’s so cliché

it’s literally high school musical

oh boy now she’s POPULAR?

i love their friendship so much

OOP

awwww I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP

omg what? shoes in the house? shoes ON THE BED? DISGRACE PAUL MUNSKY

jk him caring for her is literally so cute

i’m glad we can have that platonically

she did that for him? aww

the way she spits out the advil is hilarious

OMG ASTER?!?

i bet she thinks ellie and paul are dating

oof

“it’s paul’s chinese friend” who the FUCK do you think you are? STEP THE FUCK UP KAREN

oh it’s the daisy!

it’s gorgeous

i feel like aster definitely suspects something

OH THEY’RE SPENDING THE DAY TOGETHER

i have no idea what she does at the station?!?

“SECRET PLACE” oh lawd

aster definitely knows it’s ellie

i wish i had a secret pond

but alas

i am just a poor city girl

ellie is a disaster gay and i am living for it

LONG UNDERWEAR ellie is prepared for all situations

paul is so sweet that’s adorable

“i don’t think i’ve ever hung out with a girl and not talked about boys before” the GAY is showing and i love it

but love isn’t about feeling safe

it’s about feeling adventurous but being safe

you’re in HIGH SCHOOL why tf r u thinking about marriage?

oml don’t get married to trig he’s a fucking idiot

i lowkey thought they were going to kiss

and then ellie “i am a RUSSIAN DOLL of clothing!!1!1!”

sdlkfjsdlkf

AHADHSFDSJFLDSKFJLESKF PAUL LOOKS SO NERVOUS

when my asian mom did this, my white dad would look just like him, even after literally decades of marriage

WOAH the visuals

just... two people looking at the same sky

so intimate

“gravity is matter’s response to loneliness”

that’s so deep but all i can think of is r/showerthoughts

just two girls discussing their deepest beliefs and secrets in a spring

i would like to do that pls

lmao ellie’s dad and paul are besties now

oh

oh ellie

COLLEGE you deserve to go to college!

omg aster and paul’s height difference

paul’s siblings are hilarious lmao

SLDKFJSDL “A BUNCH OF GUYS SNIFFING EACH OTHERS’ BUTTS” is maybe the most accurate description of high school sports

guess all that running really paid off paul

“squahamish scores for the first time in 50 yrs” i-

ellie trying to finesse the yakult is the funniest thing

what the FUCK just happened

what

what

what

that was like watching a train wreck in slo-mo

paul WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?

WHAT THE FUCK

dkjlsfdksjlfkldsjf

i have zero words.

...trig

is he ok

who sprayed him? was it paul or ellie’s dad??

oh god literally all three of them are ruined

paul! he’s trying! and that matters!

he’s been taught to condemn it

but he supports his friend first and foremost

so he tries to understand and accept it

...oh no paul’s mother

ellie looks so sad :(

ugh i’m crying

she had to grow up too quickly because of her mother’s death

“have you ever loved someone so much you don’t want anything about them to change?”

i’m so emotional

SKSKSK “i had to grind something” homophobic mother looks up

the fuck is “little lady”

oh i get it he’s proposing

trig is literally the human manifestation of microaggression

ASTER DON’T DO IT

ELLIE?!

the painting metaphor is back and i am not ok

AND I OOP- she slapped him ok ok ok

“mommy wants you to know that in case you are gay, mommy still loves you” “no mom i’m not gay” “thank god” “i might want to change your sausage recipe though” “are you INSANE?” THIS IS AN EXACT PARALLEL to when bitty came out and mama bittle still loved him but then the JAM (hello again check please mutuals if ur still here ily)

lmao the english teacher “now that is some divine intervention” she is neutral evil and i am LIVING for it (bet she’s wlw too)

“you don’t mean dead, right” SLDFKJSDL

“love is messy and horrible and selfish... and bold.” -ellie chu

that’s fucking beautiful

aster looks... so tired

COLLEGE YES SHE’S GOING TO COLLEGE

i have no words i just want to watch this and cry

they kissed.

they KISSED.

“i’ll see you in a couple of years”

i love that they don’t end up together

that they know that they should wait, that it’s not their time yet

because love is “the trying, and the reaching, and the failing”

ellie looks so happy

she’s comfortable in her own skin

FINALLY

she deserves everything

omg the emojis slap

her dad’s conductor? station master? idk but he’s working again and i’m so proud of him

is paul seriously giving her sausage

lmao

“too smart to be crying on the platform like a wussy” “i’m not crying” “wussy” underrated exchange of the year

paul chasing after ellie on the train is so sweet

i’m sobbing

“moron”

ugh

she looks so content and i love that for her

that’s the end

if you made it this far, congrats! 

overall 10/10

it’s such a sweet movie it’s well paced, well written, and well shot

time to go see if there’s any fic

bye!

[kgunt12]

The Drummer’s Best Friend// Nikki Sixx (Part One)

I’ve known Tommy Lee since I was 12 years old. We met in our math class in 7th grade. I was new around town and had absolutely no friends. I moved from Ohio to California and people thought I was some kind of alien, but Tommy was different. He was interested in becoming my friend because I wasn’t from around here and because I was different. His words, not mine. That kid’s a sap.

We’ve been inseparable ever since. I would come watch him in the marching band and when he was in Suite 19. In return he would be there for me whenever I needed him, which was quite often. We helped each other through break ups and through all our ups and downs. He was my best friend, to say the least.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n)!” He pleaded, giving me his puppy dog eyes.

“Tommy, I love you, I really do, but my parents would never let me go,” I said.

He rolled his eyes, “You haven’t even asked yet!”

“Yeah and that’s because my dad will most likely be drunk! I’m not in the mood to get yelled at, or worse. My mom will probably be fucked up on coke, so there goes that idea,” I said, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Okay, fine, but I just really want my best friend to be there,”

“I guess I could just sneak out.” After those words left my mouth, Tommy had the biggest smile on his face. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Tommy decided to pick my outfit for me. He picked out ripped jean shorts, a black and red crop top, and my black booties. I made my hair big and poofy while making my makeup simple, besides my bold red lip. I had to admit, Tommy had amazing taste because I looked good!

I had just watched Mötley Crüe perform at their first show and I was already obsessed. Tommy was amazing behind his drums, the guitarist killed it, the lead singer had me almost drooling, and don’t even get me started on their bassist. He was by far the hottest man I have ever seen. The way he played his bass and the way he looked up there blew me away.

“(Y/n)! Did you like it?” Tommy asked as he picked me up, spinning me around their dressing room. I couldn’t help but giggle.

I smiled, “You guys fucking killed it! It was so amazing!”

“Besides those assholes at the beginning,” a new voice said.

Tommy let go of me, setting me on the ground. I turned around to see the lead singer standing there, smirking at me. Wait a second! Blonde hair, stunning eyes, and a killer body?

“Oh my God! Vince Neil!” I said and smiled at the blonde.

“(Y/n) (L/n)? Is that you?” he asked. I walked over to him and gave him a hug, glancing at Tommy. I use to have the biggest crush on Vince when we were in school. Tommy would always tease me about it, but he was also super protective of me and never let Vince touch me.

I pulled away, “It’s good to see you, Vinnie!,”

“You look incredible, (Y/n),” he said, his eyes undressing me.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tommy spoke and pulled me back to him.

An older looking man walked into their dressing room and grabbed a bottle of vodka. He sat down on the couch, taking a big swig from the bottle.

“(Y/n), this is Mick Mars!” Tommy said, smiling down at me.

“Nice to meet you!” I said. Mick gave a little wave back and took another swig of vodka.

“Nikki, man!”

I looked to my right, the wind almost got knocked out of me. The bassist was standing there with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. Pieces of his black hair stuck to his forehand and his shirt clung to his chest. He looked stunning.

Tommy placed a hand on my shoulder, “This is Nikki Sixx,”

“Hey, (Y/N), is it?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s me,” I answered, flashing him a smile. He returned it and offered me his bottle. I glanced down at it, deciding to take it. I held it up to my lips and chugged it, feeling it burn the back of

my throat.

“Yo, (Y/N), you might wanna slow down!” Vince said.

I handed the bottle back to Nikki, “Oh, come on Vinnie! I can out drink you in a minute!”

“There’s no way!” Vince retorted back.

“Remember junior year? I out drank you, Tommy, and that one kid in 30 seconds!” I said and giggled at the face Vince was making.

“You coming to the after party?” Nikki asked.

I looked up at him, “I wish, but I really need to head home,”

“C’mom (Y/n)! You gotta stay! It’s gonna be so much fun!” Vince yelled as a blond girl entered the dressing room.

“I really to need to get going. You guys were amazing, by the way! I can’t wait to come to another show and see you guys kill it!” I said and gave everyone a small smile.

Tommy walked over to me and placed his hand on my back, “I’ll walk you home,”

“It’s-“

“I’ll walk her home,” Nikki interrupted me and replaced Tommy’s hand with his, sending chills down my spine.

“Make sure she gets there safe, alright? And no funny business!” Tommy warned Nikki. I smiled at Tommy and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Nikki and I made our way out of the dressing room, heading towards the front of the bar. As soon as we got outside chills erupted onto my skin. The cool California breeze was no match for my bare arms. I tried to rub some heat back back into them, but I failed, miserably.

I looked over at Nikki and watched as he walked silently, stealing glances at people walking by. It was kinda cute, actually. He seemed so absorbed in his own little world.

“So, why did you offer to take me home?” I asked, rubbing my arms.

He looked at me, “I didn’t want Tommy to miss out on anything,”

“I didn’t want him to either. Before you interrupted me back there, I was gonna tell him that I was fine on my own. Which I am,” I said.

“Tommy would’ve never let you walk alone,”

I smirked, “He doesn’t own me, so he would’ve had to deal with it,”

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“You could say that,” I answered.

“Good. I like feisty,”

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as a blush formed on my cheeks. I looked away from Nikki and smiled the biggest smile. This guy was caring, cute, talented, and sexy as fuck. I think I’m in love. Oh lord. I sound like Tommy!

We walked up to my house and I could hear my parents arguing. My dad was shouting and my mom was throwing shit around the house. I could hear glass shatter and it made me cringe. I really wish I would’ve walked alone.

Nikki grabbed my wrist, “You want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” I said and snatched my wrist from his hold.

“(Y/n)...”

“There’s no need to worry, Nikki. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure? Cause, I can come in for a bit. I don’t have anything else going on,” he said as he tried to follow me up my porch steps.

I gave him a tight lipped smile, “I’ll be fine. Just don’t tell Tommy about this, okay?” I asked.

“Why shouldn’t I-“

“Thanks, rockstar,”

With that being said, I ran inside my house and tried to steer clear of my parents. I knew that Nikki was going to tell Tommy, but a small part of me really hoped he wouldn’t. I didn’t want Tommy to know just how bad things were at home. He was so happy right now.

As I laid in bed that night, Nikki was the one thing on my mind. The way his hair stuck to his forehead, the way he drank Jack Daniels, the way he played his bass, and the way he made me feel inside. I knew that Tommy would never let Nikki date me, but, that was one of the last things on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

[selfcallednowhere]

March 2, 2018 Los Angeles, CA

They opened with "I Left My Body," and then came an amusing mix-up. The band was playing what was clearly the beginning of "Damn Good Times," and Flans started talking over it. "We're They Might Be Giants from Brooklyn, New York! We have a new album out and this is the single! It's called 'Why Does the Sun Shine?'!"

And then everyone stopped playing because of course "Why Does the Sun Shine?" wasn't the next song--y'know, as evidenced by the fact that they'd already started playing the next song and it was obviously not it. John said, "None of that was true. Not a single word of it. We are not They Might Be Giants." Flans: "Hi, we're Cheap Trick!"

So then they went back to playing what they were actually supposed to be playing. When I'm singing along at shows I normally always sing the lead part, but not on this one--I sing along with John's "Damn! Good times!" in the chorus because it's way more fun and also inevitably describes how I'm feeling right then.

"Why Does the Sun Shine?" actually was the next song up. John informed us that if the sun were hollow a million earths would fit inside "comfortably," and also that "Scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. They're wrong. But that's what they've found." Also, the heat and light of the sun were caused by the nuclear reaction between "hydrogen, something else, that guy, and everything."

Afterwards, Flans said, "We're frozen in time, but this audience seems more bearded than ever." Then he said that these are complicated, shitty times, and that they were surprised when their management told them they have a new album out. But they thought that was cool, and when they listened to the copies they gave them they discovered that it was "so much better than it had to be." Then he explained that they'd be playing two sets and we should "treat us like you would any other opener--with total emotional distance."

Flans introduced "Mrs. Bluebeard" by saying it was "the part of the show I've all been waiting for." I was looking forward to it too, because at this point I'd just become deeply curious about if John was ever going to manage to get the lyrics right. The correct answer to this question turned out to be NOPE. He messed it up yet again, though he at least managed to do better than the previous night, when some of the things he was singing weren't even words.

After they played "Your Racist Friend," Flans said that during the song he'd been "rocking out stage left" and he'd seen a guy who had his camera out but then had immediately put it away "like he expected me to go all Axl Rose on him." Then he said a thing he'd been joking about other times about how they wanted to encourage flash photography (joke though it may have been, it would've been about the only way one could reliably get decent pictures with the terrible backlit lighting setup they were using), and also if we were recording a bootleg we should send them a copy. He also said that if we had any work emails to catch up on we should feel free to go ahead and do it now.

Next they played "The Statue Got Me High"--on keyboard again, siiiiiiiigh. Once again it was too difficult for me to push past how upset I was about this to properly enjoy one of my all-time fav songs.

After that, John put the contra-alto clarinet on. Flans said that they wanted to thank their corporate sponsor, Microsoft, and that this was Clippy, the mascot of Microsoft Word. John said that he should have just left it at Microsoft, and Flans said he was leaving it at that, that this was all he was allowed to say. Then John told us that it was the contra-alto clarinet. "It's not legal unless you say the whole name." Flans said it was "unrelated to other contra groups," and John said it was "equally controversial." Then Flans said it would be implanting a tracking device in us.

So then they played "All Time What." The more I see that song live, the more I like it.

Afterwards, Flans said that normally he would ask John how his day was, but this time he didn't need to ask because they'd actually spent the whole day together. He said that they'd discussed some documentary about Chicago and "whether the moral ambiguity of Three Billboards was ok or not." Then John said that they'd met four Uber drivers, all of whom enjoyed the job, which surprised him. Flans said they all seemed to have post-doc educations and were interrupting their conversations to correct them about stuff--he said it had happened when they were discussing controlling children and also when they were discussing drugs.

Then John asked Flans if he was staring at his setlist to see what the next song was, and Flans said he absolutely wouldn't slow the show down by doing that (as if knowing what the next song is wasn't the entire purpose of them having setlists in the first place). Then John said the next song was in the movie Mayor of the Sunset Strip, and Flans said the reference was "for people who are old enough to know that Laugh-In wasn't funny." John: "I Think there are people who are old enough to be operating under the delusion that Laugh-In was funny." The song was "Bangs."

Next was "Hearing Aid," and after Flans said that they were "testing the threshold of the PA."

JL: I think I feel the subwoofers under me. JF: I think subwoofers are very expensive, John. *takes microphone off stand* When I take the mic off like this, do you feel like you're about to get a TED Talk? Disrupters. Next slide. JL: You thought this, but no, that. JF: A new way of making deals. They do the work, you make the money. It'll cost you a little to get in on this opportunity. JL: All we need is the kajillions of dollars that you all have. JF: We just need one investor, who has nothing but his Jimi Hendrix replica guitars. We actually did a TED Talk, and we were part of the "what's wrong with this picture" brigade. The theme of the weekend was "genius," which seemed a little fulsome, as my mother would say. We played at like 9 AM, and I was joking that we'd never played that early except at a librarian convention. And afterwards a librarian came up to me and said, "Libraries don't open at 9 AM."

John introduced "The Mesopotamians" by saying it was from "a TV show that was on very early, before Laugh-In."

Before "When the Lights Come On," Flans said that he "forgot if they had an intro to this song," and John said, "That was it right there. You just found it." GOD this song is SO FUCKING GOOD live. I'm so happy that they're playing it so much.

Next came "Nothing's Gonna Change my Clothes" (two completely glorious songs in a row!). All the times I've seen this one live, John sings it in the cadence of the demo, which makes me really happy because I love that version.

After that John held up his coffee and said "Mazel tov." Flans said he didn't think he'd ever heard him say that before, and John said Danny said that he'd said it a couple of days ago. He said Flans said he didn't think he'd ever heard him say it before that time too, but then he said he didn't remember saying it at all. Flans said it was like a KISS concert, with one of them saying over and over that they'd never played a certain song before (which of course made me think of "P.S.O.K."). Then he said that the other day on Twitter some Trump administration official had used the phrase "mazel tov cocktail," and "I salute their scrambled brain." John said that they were talking about all this unrelated stuff and someone had just yelled "We love you!" and it was as if they were saying "Come back!"

After "This Microphone," Flans introduced Curt and said he'd come from Connecticut on a minibike. Then he asked Marty if he was playing a hollowed-out orange, and then asked if he bought it that way or if it came in a kit, then asked him if his sponsor was here. Then Marty said it was supposed to stay on the drumstick, but he hadn't been able to get it to, and Flans said "So you did a mod. It's like a life hack." Then he said that Marty was "putting percussionists out of business."

Next they played "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal," which remains one of the absolute show highlights for me with Curt there. Where we were standing there was a pole just to the right of John when he was at his keyboard, and I was bopping around so much during that song that I kept having the pole block my view of him. Being able to see him during shows is normally priority #1 for me, but I couldn't help it! That's just what that song + trumpet does to me!

They closed the first set with "Particle Man," and then returned for the Quiet Storm. They opened with "Older" as per usual. This time John was pointing at the crowd for parts of it as if he were Death himself (ala that one fantastic Mink Car promo picture).

After "I Like Fun," Flans said that they love the old songs, and they particularly love this one cos it's "so damn old." People were yelling things out, and Flans said "You can shout out all the names of what you think we're going to play and you'll be wrong." Then he said the song was full of "vitriol and unbridled hostility," which was very appealing to them.

So then they of course played "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too," and then did an introduction to "James K. Polk" that was pretty similar to the night before: John said they'd be going all the way from the 1840 of that song into the future of 1844, with "self-driving beards and electric buggy whips," and then that the song wasn't letting their true feelings about its subject come across, which are that "he was a dick." Flans: "It's value-neutral...about someone who was a dick." Then Flans said that he was the reason where we are right now in California is a part of America, but that isn't necessarily a good thing.

So next was "James K. Polk," of course. Right before the bridge, with Flans's solo, John did the silly thing he does sometimes where he says some variation of "John Flansburgh, explain!" Then, after Flans played the first half, he said, "I see, go on." There was also some quality spazziness during the last verse--he's often spazzy during that part, I'm not sure why but of course I love it.

Next they played "The Famous Polka."

JF: The only polka we know. People ask us how we sequence our songs--that was "Polk," and then "Polka." "Polk-a." JL: That was also a Radiohead album. JF: That was the good one. This next song is from the John Henry album. It's underrated. JL: I think it's overrated. JF: It's underrated by me. JL: It has a histogram like this. *holds hand up, then moves down, then across, then up again* There are super-haters, and super-lovers.

It made me sad to hear John call it overrated, since it's tied as my favorite album. I do think he's right about how polarizing it is within fandom though, but the "super-haters" are WRONG WRONG WRONG.

So then they played MY SONG. I swear to god, I could see that song at every single show I go to from here on out and it would never stop being an incredibly special experience for me. I just love the song so, so, so MUCH, and it's a really big deal for me to see them play it. I always cheer like crazy when it's over.

That was the last song of the Quiet Storm, followed by "Istanbul." Then Flans introduced "Bills, Bills, Bills" by fist talking about when they did "Tubthumping." He said that the list of songs the AV Club gave them was "notorious and vaguely dubious," and that they had to figure out "how to make it feel good" so they had the staff come in and sing it with them. Then he said that after that they the "opportunity" to come back a second time, and that there are "many reasons not to cover Destiny's Child," but that the song is so complicated that now that they've learned it they don't want to drop it from the set, like they did it in vaudeville. Then he explained that John will sing Beyonce's part and he'll sing Kelly's part, and that she's "my favorite child--I think they call them children--not that I'm an expert." Then he said that there was "the third one" whose name he couldn't remember, and John said "You have to love all your children the same." Then people were yelling that the third one's name is Michelle, and Flans said "Michelle! It's even in the song!" (I'm not sure what he meant by this.)

So then they played the song (I became a Flansgirl for the length of it as per usual), then "New York City," then "Birdhouse in Your Soul."

When John was getting his Kaoss Pad ready for "Wicked Little Critta," he said, "I pressed the button that makes the song happen." After that he was telling someone in front that he couldn't quite read what their homemade shirt said but that it was "freaking me out." I'm not sure what it said exactly, but then Flans said (apparently in response to it) "Two votes? But what about the midterms?" Then he said he needed one for his mom, and then I think the person must've been starting to take the shirt off, because Flans said, "No no no! My mom's in Florida! She can wait!"

After that Flans went back to his joke of the night before about Dan Miller being Tabitha on Bewitched, repeated almost word-for-word the same as the previous night (disillusioning!), but with the new addition this time that they'd added this "fact" to Wikipedia and no one had caught it yet.

After a run of a bunch of great songs that I don't have any special comments on ("Number Three," "Answer," "Twisting," and "Man, It's So Loud in Here"), they did band intros and then Flans thanked "all the lit majors in the audience" (which was random but did make this particular lit major feel pretty awesome!).

They closed the main set with "The Guitar," rockin' and fantastic as always. As bonuses it featured John (adorably) hopping and (adorably) waving during the "the lion waves good-bye" bit in the last verse.

When they came back for the first encore Flans made an announcement that was very exciting to me as a Pacific Northwesterner: that they'd be touring Canada later in the year. He said they're going to be "going to cities that are a mistake to go to." Then he talked about how they just got the I Like Fun vinyl, and that it resembles "a fireman's calendar from 2012."

Then:

JF: This next song is for everyone. JL: Well, almost everyone. *pause* I'm actually not sure what you mean by that. JF: I didn't want to say that it's for you. JL: Are we talking about the same song? JF: "Do They Know It's Christmas?"?

The next song was actually "Dead," so yes that was a mysterious comment to make! But anyway I was thrilled to see it again, and even more thrilled when they followed it up with "Don't Let's Start" again.

When they came back for the second encore Flans was taking a picture of the crowd with his phone, and John was goofily posing at the edge of the stage to be in it too. When I found the picture later that night it was as great as I hoped it would be.

Then John said that he'd just noticed Danny wasn't wearing red pants, and Flans said we should check out the pants that he was wearing, which were these blue ones with a grid pattern that were indeed pretty wild. Then Flans was saying that there's some festival in Boston that they've played a lot, and that they kept having bands that were opening for them right before they made it big (the example he gave was The Cardigans), but one time it was a band called Royal Clown Revue, and he told the promoters that they absolutely did not want a band with a name like that opening for them, but that they told him it was a typo and it was actually Royal Crown Revue, and they were a ska band. Then he told Danny that if he "wanted to make a lateral move into Mighty Mighty Bosstones," he definitely could with those pants.

Then John was thanking us and said "We love you, in an inappropriate way," which was...strange.

The final song was "Doctor Worm," which I think is a good closer--I like it when they end with something really high-energy like that, and everyone gets so into that one.

So it ended up being exactly the same setlist as in San Diego the night before, which surprised me--I've been to shows multiple nights in a row quite a few times, and I don't think I've ever seen them not switch out at least a couple of the songs from one night to the next. The setlist consisted of some really terrific stuff, don't get me wrong, all of which was really exciting to see, but I'd be lying if I said I weren't a bit disappointed about it being exactly the same. Still had an amazing time, of course!

The final all-important JL wardrobe report: he was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, and I managed to be less upset about his dumb haircut than I was the night before.

[icequeenjules26]

Flight to Flight

Summary:  Dan Howell, aspiring Ski Jumper, meets the handsome stranger Phil at an airport, and they hit it off immediately. But what he didn't know was that Phil was more than he seemed to be…

Word Count: 14,6k

Tags: Ski Jumping AU, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut

A/n: This is my fic for the @phandomreversebang! Art is from the amazing @lovelydeps, who even made a different art for me, and a biiiig thank you goes to my beta @indecisive-taco for her nice words and obviously her help! I loved writing this, I hope you guys like it! 

Read on AO3

Dan arrived at the airport pretty early. His flight wasn’t for a few more hours, but the weather was horrible and he knew, if he would miss this flight his mom would be pissed.

 She would probably be pissed anyway, but what had he been supposed to do?

 Technically, she had asked him to be home at least a few days before easter to settle back in with his family and get all discussions out of the way before his extended family would arrive for the actual festivities. He knew that. He had known that. But he simply hadn’t been able to make it.

 This was the opportunity of a lifetime. And he never would’ve gotten it had he gone straight home after his last competition.

 So, while his Continental Cup team had taken the flight back home from Russia to Germany, he had boarded the flight towards Klagenfurt, Austria, and then the car to Planica, Slovenia for a weekend at the World Cup. Not to compete himself, sadly… At least not yet. But the German national coach had invited him to spend the weekend with the rest of the national team, and they had taken him in with open arms. He knew a few of them already from his youth, but others he hadn’t met before - especially the coach himself. Who had made pretty clear that his chances of competing in the World Cup in the next season were exceptional.

 Naturally, Dan was still basking in happiness while waiting for his flight back home, even though the weather was crap. It was the end of March and it was still ridiculously cold outside, including wind and snow and ice.

 Inside of the airport hall it was fairly warm, though, and his warm winter coat with the emblem of the German national team had been long since slipped off and stuffed into his hand luggage carelessly. The nice, cozy jumper he was wearing did plenty to keep him warm, even though it was loosely fitted and slipped halfway off his left shoulder whenever he was moving. Which happened too often, to be honest. He was sitting in the waiting hall, playing mindless games on his phone and ignoring his mom’s text to pass the time before his flight would finally be ready for boarding.

 It didn’t take him too long to realize something was not right. The plane was supposed to be leaving in about half an hour, and it still hadn’t been called out for boarding, while the weather outside got more ridiculous by the minute. Snow and ice whirled around in a violent storm and it had gotten pretty dark outside even though it was barely 2pm.

 He was starting to get restless when a female voice rung through the speakers, saying something undefinable about London-Heathrow and he whipped his head around, searching for the departure board. When he found it he reluctantly got up to get a closer look at it, backpack slung over his left shoulder and a trolley in tow.

 It took him a moment to get there and then even longer to find his flight. Klagenfurt was not a big airport, but big enough, and after a big event like a ski jumping World Cup there were more flights leaving than usual. His was listed on the bottom half of the board, a slideshow stating Flug fällt aus - which was German and said his flight was cancelled.

 Great.

 The exact moment he realized that, he heard a groaning and a “Goddamnit” from somewhere next to him. He looked over as the same word left his lips and found himself eye to eye with blue irises shining so brightly in the rather dim lighting he thought he’d go blind on the spot. His breathing hitched.

 Shit, he cursed to himself. Calm down. His eyes are probably the only thing pretty.

 But as Dan finally managed to refocus, finally managed to get the whole figure into consideration he had even more reason to hold his breath. It was a man, probably not more than a few years older than Dan, and handsome. Ridiculously so. His black hair was styled into a quiff that looked almost effortless, leaving his pale forehead exposed. The black rimmed glasses perched on his nose only brought out the blue in his eyes even more, and his lips looked so sinful that Dan had to gulp.

 And that wasn’t even the worst part: He was clad in black skinny jeans and a bright blue muscle shirt clinging tightly to his body - and what a body that was.

 You should tap that, his mind provided unhelpfully and he could feel blood rushing to his cheeks (and a bit more south) as his eyes got as round as saucers. The guy’s abs were clearly outlined in the tight shirt and his chest made Dan lick his lips.

 Jesus fucking Christ on a bicycle.

 When the guy spoke, Dan was ready to come on the spot. His voice was deep and oozing of sex, and as if that wasn’t bad enough - he had a northern accent mixed in with a bit of Iitalian.

 “Your flight got cancelled, too?”, he asked with a pitiful expression and Dan could do nothing else but nod, probably sporting an expression like a deer in the headlights. Is this real life?

 “I’m Phil,” the black-haired guy said and stuck out his hand towards Dan. “Dan,” he answered with some effort, voice croaky and high-pitched. He flinched inwardly. Way to make a great first impression, Dan, he said to himself as he took the offered hand and shook it carefully. A feeling not unlike an electric current raced from his hand up his arm and his breathing hitched yet again.

 And if he held onto the stranger’s - Phil’s - hand a lot longer than strictly necessary, then that was completely fine, because he probably hadn’t even noticed... Right?

 It was Phil’s deep voice that ripped him out of his thoughts. “So… You don’t have anything to do, either?” His eyes were shining with an almost dangerous glint and his lips were curled up in a smirk. Both left no room for interpretation in the most suggestive way and Dan couldn’t be sure what was keeping him upright; all he knew was that it took all his willpower to prevent his knees from buckling under him.

He managed the slightest nod of his head and a somewhat crooked smile in return but didn’t trust his voice. His hands were shaking more than the first time he had been allowed to jump from the large hill or when he got to introduce himself to the German national ski jumping coach. He had balled them into fists and buried deep in his jumper so it wasn’t too apparent, but that didn’t change the facts.

 The mischievous facial expression was still firmly in place when Phil asked him to spare the time waiting for further instructions with a coffee, and Dan just simply didn’t have it in him to say no. Nothing more.

 It definitely wasn’t like he inwardly rewarded himself with a pat on the shoulder when he managed to blurt out an “absolutely” without his voice breaking even once.

Fifteen minutes later Dan found himself sitting in a tiny cafe in a corner of the airport. They had both ordered a latté, and while waiting for it to appear they made light smalltalk, talking about the weather, where they had wanted to fly to. Phil was nice, funny, and his deep chuckles made Dan think of nights beneath the sheets. When he bent down in his seat to get his phone out of his backpack his shirt as well as a newly added sweater slipped up just the tiniest bit, revealing rippling muscles and the elastic band of obviously tight fitting Calvin Klein pants.

 Dan almost choked on his own spit and needed at least a few minutes to recover. When he came back to his senses, their coffees had arrived and Phil was cracking up.

 Smooth, Dan. Smooth.

 “You okay there, Dan?” Phil asked, grinning, his tongue poking out between his teeth. It looked so cute Dan felt himself blushing profusely.

 “Fine,” he croaked out, pointedly ignoring Phil’s smug smirk, instead picking up his latté to take a sip to cover up the redness creeping onto his face. He tried to act like nothing happened, but he knew Phil saw right through him.

 Screw him for knowing how fucking hot he is, Jesus fucking Christ.

 They drank their coffee accompanied by comfortable smalltalk. Dan learned that Phil was a few years older than him and born Rawtenstall, England. They didn’t talk much about their childhoods overall, which Dan wasn’t too disappointed about considering the mess that was his, and stayed clear of work related topics - that seemed kind of weird to him, like Phil had something to hide, but so had Dan, so he decided to let it slide. Aside from that they covered a lot of topics reaching from hobbies to music to movies, and, surprisingly, Dan found how much he had in common with Phil.

 They sat there talking for what felt like hours. By the time he had drank his fourth coffee he was on a serious caffeine-high, which didn’t go past Phil either, and so they both fidgeted and chuckled and blushed a lot. Dan felt like he fit right in with him and that almost overwhelmed him. Phil was a walking god, sex on legs, and Dan couldn’t believe he spent his time talking to him of all people. Also, meeting another British guy at an airport somewhere in the middle of Austria, what were the chances?

 Phil’s flirting got more obvious by the second and Dan found himself unable to resist. They had started leaning into each other’s personal space, casually placing a hand on the other’s thigh, and Phil’s eyes noticeably flitted to Dan’s lips at least ten times a minute.

 Dan was revelling in it. He loved the attention he got from someone as downright hot as Phil - attention he found himself returning freely. It wasn’t a secret he had the hots for the black-haired man in front of him, not to the increasingly annoyed waitress, nor to the man himself. Phil was aware that Dan fancied him, and Dan found himself not caring the slightest bit. He wanted this man, wanted whatever he was ready to give him, and to get it Phil needed to pick up on this growing crush.

 And apparently, that’s what he did. His comments got progressively obvious, up to the point where they were outright scandalous, even for Dan, who was not one to mince matters either. He didn’t mind at all - quite the obvious, actually. It was refreshing to have someone unmitigatedly admitting interest, to not dance around the issue and wonder about the if’s.

 Maybe it was formed by the situation they were in, stuck at an airport in the middle of nowhere with no way of knowing if their lives would fit together at all, but not even two hours after meeting it was clear to Dan they would be having sex sooner or later. So when Phil asked the waitress for the bill - and payed for it all without a word to Dan - before taking his hand and dragging him along to an almost completely deserted part of the airport, he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised.

 They found a bathroom at the furthest corner, not a soul around, and Phil ushered him inside with an urgency that came almost shocking to Dan. As soon as they were inside, the door closed behind them, Phil had him firmly pressed against it. He would have wondered about the sound of a lock clicking into place, but was lacking at least half of his brain capacity - until Phil’s lips met his and it all went flying out of the window.

 There was a ferocity, an intensity in his kiss that Dan never would have thought Phil was capable of.

 He liked it.

 Maybe a bit too much.

 A few minutes of furiously making out later Phil pressed his hips against Dan’s and Dan was done for. He could feel Phil’s hardness grinding against his own and moaned loudly against Phil’s lips.

 He could feel the smirk before Phil pulled away, regarding him with an unmistakable look that had Dan’s blood boiling. Phil was so freaking hot Dan wanted nothing more then to get his lips everywhere on Phil’s body - so that, he realized, was what he was going to do.

 His hands wandered to the zip of Phil’s jeans out of their own accord - and he found himself actually growling when Phil took a hold of his wrist before he could open it.

 “Before we do this,” Phil said pantingly, “I need to get something straight -”

 Without thinking, Dan interrupted him. “Honey, nothing about this is straight.”

 For a second it was so quiet he would’ve been able to hear a pin drop - then, out of nowhere, they both started laughing, soon clutching to each other to not fall over. Dan’s mind was so clouded by their previous activity, he didn’t even care that it definitely hadn’t been funny enough to justify this level of laughter.

 It took them far too long to calm down. Both of them had tears swimming in their eyes and Dan couldn’t help but shake his head disbelievingly. He was truly hilarious when his brain was not properly supplied with blood.

 “Okay, that’s true,” Phil conceded, still chuckling quietly, his hands resting on the wall behind Dan, bracketing him, “but let’s be serious for a second, okay?”

 Dan narrowed his grin to a slight smile, leaning forward to kiss Phil on the cheek sweetly. In his mind the wildest theories started blossoming - what the fuck was important enough to interrupt their previous activity for?? - but he did his best to not let it show.  “Of course. What is it?” His voice wavered slightly and he mentally facepalmed.

 Way to go, Dan.

 Phil’s eyes caught his in a look, holding them stronger than a vice. “I need you to understand that this,” he gesticulated between them, “is not supposed to be a one time thing, okay? I really like you, Dan.” Sincerity resonated so strongly in his voice Dan found his heart skipping a beat. It felt like happiness was seeping into his skin, making him glow from the inside out.

 “Me too, Phil.”

 For the single blink of an eye Phil stared at him as if he had seen a ghost, eyes wide opened, worry clouding their vibrant colour.

 Then his lips stretched to a wide smile, eyes shining so brightly Dan was sure their shine would blind him - but he didn’t look away.

 He didn’t even care.

 If that was what it’d cost, if he would have to lose his eyesight to stare at the picture in front of him for just a second longer, then he was more than willing to pay the prize.

 “You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, gently laying his hands on Phil’s cheeks before he leaned in, kissing him with the force of his feelings raging in his chest.

  After that, things naturally progressed to where they had been before the interruption. This time, when Dan made a move to pull down Phil’s jeans along with his pants he didn’t get stopped. Quite the contrary. Phil spurred him on with a sinful moan, and Dan had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from moaning right back.

 Instead he dropped to his knees in front of Phil, humming in pleasure when Phil’s cock sprang free, hard and flushed and glorious. He couldn’t wait to get it in his mouth.

 He didn’t know what it was exactly, but something spiked his motivation and skills to the notch. It might have been Phil’s sexiness or his charming words minutes earlier or something else entirely - he would probably never know.

 Nevertheless, whatever it was, it worked. Phil was panting and moaning and completely losing control mere minutes later, and before Dan knew it, he was coming down his throat.

 And even though Dan usually wasn’t one to like come in his mouth, he enjoyed it this time. A lot.

 It took Phil only seconds to move. Dan didn’t even have the opportunity to react, he suddenly got pulled to his feet and turned around, back slamming against the door behind him. Phil’s lips were on his faster then he was even able to comprehend the recent proceedings, attacking his own with a ferocity that made Dan moan into the kiss.

 He could feel Phil smirking before he pulled away, then there was a hand pressing against the bulge in his jeans while Phil sank to his knees before him and he abruptly lost all ability to function.

 The next few minutes were spent in utter bliss. His orgasm came faster than he would have liked it to, but he simply couldn’t push it down any longer, and he felt ridiculously good coming into Phil’s mouth.

 Is this what heaven feels like?

 It took them a while to recover from the whole ordeal. For some time they just stood there, clutching to each other as if for dear life, Dan’s jeans and pants still down to his ankles. Phil was pushed up against him, forehead resting on his shoulder, and for a second, everything seemed perfect. They had completely forgotten their surroundings, the fact that they had just blown each other in public toilets in the corner of an airport.

 Then Phil raised his head, bringing his lips next to Dan’s ears, and Dan almost felt ready for round two in the matter of seconds. “I’m going to fuck you one day.” A shudder ran down his spine and Dan found himself moaning.

 “Please,” he whispered back, breathless, voice hoarse.

 Then their bubble of hormones and flirting and sex got interrupted rather violently. With a shrill ding the intercom shrivelled to life, calling out the last boarding for Flug 268 nach Manchester, England, and Phil got as white as a sheet. “Shit!” he cursed, abruptly letting go of Dan and scrambling for his bag. “I’ll text you when I land!” he managed to exclaim, then he was gone.

 It was only a few hours later that Dan realized they had never exchanged numbers.

 ______

 Dan spent the summer training with the German national team. Originally he had only been planned to join up with them a month before the World Cup was supposed to start, but he had gotten a phone call shortly after Easter, asking him if he'd be up for spending the whole summer with the team, including bonding activities and a weeklong vacation. Obviously he hadn’t been able to say no.

 By the time the World Cup started up again it had been over half a year since he met Phil. He knew they didn’t even know each other’s last names or much other vital information, so Phil had no means to contact him, but the absence of any form of communication still made his skin itch and his nostrils flare in silent anger. It was probably just a coping mechanism, but he didn’t care. It was better than the sadness and sense of loss that he had no claim on anyway.

 Somewhere below the surface he knew, though. He knew what he felt towards Phil had been more than infatuation, more than a purely physical attraction.

 He had liked Phil. And somehow, even six months later, he still did.

 It was nothing short of a miracle that the whole ordeal didn’t affect his jumping or sporting ability. He was a bit absent sometimes or had too many thoughts to properly concentrate, but his fellow athletes as well as the coaching staff were understanding and even taught him some techniques to enhance his concentration. Surprisingly they mostly did their job and going into the winter season Dan felt as strong a ski jumper as never before.

 Most of his former problems and shortcomings had improved considerably, some had even turned into strengths. He was friends or at least on friendly terms with almost every last person in the Ggerman national team, including the staff as well as other athletes and medical attendees. He was more fit physically as well as mentally, and he understood the structure of a ski-jumping hill well enough to have a general idea of possible take-off points from just looking at it. The biggest improvement were his landings, though. Formerly shy of even landing with his feet properly paralleled, he now managed a nicely executed Telemark in nine out of ten times.

 Telemark landing meant that in the moment he’d touch the ground his knees were supposed to be slightly bend, one foot in front of the other in something resembling a step. It was hard to manage with the pressure the landing put on your body, especially your knees and ankles, and landing with your feet parallel was just much easier to handle. He had been slacking off on that for basically the entirety of his career, making the judges give him lower points for the jumps, meaning lower scores in total. The total score included style, distance, the wind factor during the jump as well as the gate factor (the starting gate affects the length of the approach, therefore affecting the speed and, in conclusion, the distance of the jump).

 Dan had always had his problems with more than one part of the process involved in ski jumping, but now, with a few months of excessive training and incredible coaches he had to admit he was getting quite… good. Not that he had been bad before, obviously, but he’d rarely had this proper flying feeling before - now it came almost natural.

 On the way to Wisla, Poland, he finally had the time to get nervous. The journey there was quite stressful, involving a flight to Katowice and a following car ride that was heavily slowed down by traffic. In total it took over three hours longer than originally planned and by the time they arrived at their hotel Dan was tired of overthinking and overall exhausted.

 Thankfully they had decided to head over a day early to give them all a smoother transition back into the strenuous schedule that was the ski jumping World Cup, so they had the luxury of taking the rest of the day off - at least aside from light muscle training to stay in shape. After that Dan fell into bed like a stone and didn’t open his eyes again until the next morning.

 __

 The following day was blocked for sightseeing and inspecting the jumping hill for the first time. Since it was tradition for the World Cup to start in Wisla, the rest of Team Germany had been here several times and knew the village, so they decided to stay in a café and drink some coffee, but Dan decided to bow out for the time being, rather doing that sightseeing. He had been here with the Continental Cup Team a few times, but never had had the opportunity to really look around.

 There was so much culture he was astounded. With him living in Oberstdorf, Germany, a pretty cultural village itself, it meant a lot that Wisla had even more to offer. He visited churches and castles and old mansions, so completely entranced by everything he saw he forgot to pay attention to the time. He was scheduled to meet back with his teammates to make the drive out to the jumping hill together later that day, but he still had plenty of time.

 Or so he had thought.

 While visiting an old shooting lodge he took the time to inspect the map of the village a hotel employee had handed him this morning, not watching where he was going until -

 Until his head, bowed down to look at the map, bumped into something hard and soft at the same time, making him recoil.

 “Goddamnit,” he groaned, at the same time as a voice that sounded somewhat familiar and a sense of dejavu overcame him, like he had heard it before, ringing alongside his own tone.

 And he had, he realized as he looked up and came face to face with the most handsome man he had ever met.

 Funnily enough the only feeling standing out was relief about the current weather, warm enough to make him take off his Team Germany coat once again. It was stuffed into his backpack instead and out of sight. The rest of the feelings raced through his body unacknowledged, clouding his head, his thoughts and his vision.

 “Phil,” he rapped out breathlessly when his head cleared just the tiniest bit, vision now completely captured by blue eyes and a kind smile.

 He hadn’t changed one bit. And what that meant was that he was still hot as hell.

 “Dan!”

 For a second he saw Phil’s eyes lighting up, his smile widening ridiculously, then he was enveloped in strong, long arms, keeping him pressed to the very same chest he had just ran into. “I’m so happy to meet you again,” Phil whispered into his ear softly, voice laced with relief. Dan wasn’t sure what made him shudder, the tone or his breath skimming over the sensitive skin of his earlobe. He pretended that it was the latter, nothing else but a reaction of his body, but deep down he was pretty much aware that there was more behind it.

 He had missed Phil. His voice, his smile, his touch. That his body was keeping it at a shudder was actually pretty fortunate.

 It took them ages to let go of each other.

 Or, in all honesty, they never did. They weren't hugging anymore, sure, but that didn't mean they weren’t touching - quite the contrary. While making their way to a nearby cafe they had constant physical contact - Phil’s hand on Dan’s lower back, their hands brushing together as if by accident, Phil’s long fingers gently wrapping around his wrist.

 When they had ordered their coffee they finally came to talking, and it was like they had never lost contact. Instead of speaking of the issue, exchanging phone numbers to not lose each other again, they stayed completely clear of that subject - Dan honestly didn’t even remember. Their conversations were too enthralling, encapturing.

 While drinking their coffee Dan realized Phil was still - or yet again - flirting. A hand casually dropped to his knee, sexual innuendos, eyes resting on his lips for far too long. Yet again, he found himself unable to care and desperate to reciprocate. The guy was like a drug, and Dan was hooked after just one shot.

 It came as no surprise to Dan that they locked themselves in the bathroom mere minutes later. Their kisses were desperate, like the other was the first sip of water after running through the desert for the six months they had spent apart. Dan was glad he wasn’t alone in his urgency, could perceive it clearly in the way Phil was clawing at him, in the way his lips started roaming over Dan’s neck in a matter of seconds.

 This time they weren’t patient enough for respective blowjobs. By the time they really started touching each other instead of just groping, they were both rock hard and desperate for release. Dan took it upon himself to take them both in his hands, stroking and tugging skillfully until first Phil, then himself jumped over the edge.

 They were still slightly out of breath when Dan’s phone rang in the pocket of his jeans. He ignored it, still resting his forehead on Phil’s shoulder, trying to catch up with reality. “That,” Phil rasped out in between breaths, completely ignoring the ringing phone, “Was incredible.”

 Dan chuckled in response. “Agreed.”

 By the time they had cleaned themselves up and tugged their jeans and underwear back on his phone started ringing again. Dan groaned in displeasure but fished it out of his pocket to take a look at the caller ID.

 The name flashing up made his blood freeze in his veins and he checked the time in a panic haste. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, and Phil looked up from buckling up his belt.

 “Everything okay?” he asked, clear worry in his voice, and Dan raised his head to look up at him. He could feel his eyes widen out of their own accord when he processed the time. “No!” he practically screamed then. “I really gotta go. Fuck. Can you take care of the tab for me?”

 He barely even waited for Phil’s hesitant nod before he picked up his backpack from the ground and hurried out of the bathroom. The urgent “Dan, wait!” faded away unprocessed.

 ____

 It was during his first competition jump the memory finally dawned on him. He had hurried so much to get to the meeting point with his team as soon as possible he hadn’t even begun to process things, and it seemed like only during the jump did the stress of the last few days finally ebb away.

 He had had barely scratched the qualification distance, ending the qualifying as 59th with 60 jumpers qualified for the actual competition. But when he finally took off down the hill the day after, when he flew through the air and realized he had met the take-off point almost perfectly this time, it all just crumbled away, all the worries, all the apprehension rolled down the hill and out of sight.

 He realized he and Phil had forgotten to change numbers yet again, but surprisingly, he didn’t panic, not in the slightest. Somehow there was this certainty in him that told him he would meet Phil again, sooner or later; a deep tranquillity laid itself over him, made him focus on the jump with everything he had.

 It only took the fraction of a second, the realization and coming to peace with it, and afterwards was the first time in days -  maybe weeks or even months - his head was completely clear, nothing clouding his judgement. With piercing clarity he felt his right shoulder starting to fold back, to give into the wind instead of holding against it, and did his best to push it back forward, gently to not disturb the airstream that kept him up.

 During the last portion of the jump, where usually the support of the air fizzled away and there wasn’t much else to do but to initiate a landing, there was suddenly a stream of air, just a fraction of what had carried him down the hill, but it was something, and he laid himself onto it with everything he had.

  It brought him the few meters that made a good jump an amazing jump. And with the second jump being equally great, he managed to finish in the top ten in his first competition with the German World Cup Team.

 ____

 Overall Dan’s performance over the whole weekend was quite good. Werner Schuster, their coach, approached him on sunday shortly before their journey back home and rewarded him with a rare praising speech and a fatherly pat on the shoulder. The team celebrated him like he had won one of the competitions, even though he merely made it into the Top 10 at both of them; but they were so excited he couldn’t help but celebrate with them. The support they all gave him was incredible and his roommate, Karl Geiger, who also lived in Oberstdorf, even invited him round for video games the following week.

 The next weekend they spent at the World Cup in Kuusamo, Finnland, where the first team competition would take place. Those were a whole different deal to Dan, changing the dynamics and energy in the team completely, and to his utmost surprise he even got nominated for it, even though it consisted of only four competitors, with a total team quantity of six members.

 He was the second to jump. Andreas Wellinger, his teammate and first competitor for the German Team, had scored fairly well and put them into third place right after Norway and Poland, so it was his task to at least uphold that position. And he managed to, without much problem, even creeping closer to Poland, but when he had arrived in the leadersbox - both teams placing before them hadn’t jumped yet - for a second he thought he saw blue eyes and shiny black hair standing out of the crowd of onlookers.

 As soon as he turned to take a closer look the figure was gone, but something inside him told him he hadn’t imagined it, and somehow, that made him skittish and excited at the same time.

 Germany placed second in the competition, and the team took Saturday night off to celebrate that with a round of cards they all enjoyed, maybe a bit too much.

 When he awoke at Sunday morning Karl, and, when he came down into the breakfast hall, the rest of the team wasn’t awake yet. That wasn’t really an oddity as it was still quite early, and ski jumpers tended to be late risers - but what was odd was that Dan was already awake and filled to the brim with motivation. They were only scheduled to get to the hill at around two pm, so he decided to take the time before that for some sightseeing through Kuusamo. He left Karl a note to find when he’d wake up, took a hoodie and a backpack and made his way through the beautiful village.

 This time, he didn’t run into him. It wasn’t that fateful, didn’t seem that much like a scene straight out of a movie, but was quite special nonetheless.

When he lazily slendered over the old marketplace, looking around, admiring old architecture, there was a voice calling his name and when he looked around, there he was - Phil, in black skinny jeans, a fitted hoodie and in all his glory. “I knew I’d see you again,” he basically moaned, and before Dan could even react he was being kissed.

 This time there was no flirting beforehand, no hesitation, no what do you want exactly?, only their desire for each other. Phil smuggled him into his hotel room, but even though Dan was quite aware what exactly Phil wanted - he himself wanted it, too, without a doubt - he had an important competition in under six hours and hadn’t been stretched for months now, so he remorsefully stopped Phil before he started doing just that.

 “No sex today. Okay? And be careful, I haven’t been stretched for months,” he huffed out in between breaths and the smirk on Phil’s face became nothing short of smug. “Have saved yourself for me, have you?” he mumbled into Dan’s ear before gently caressing the sensitive skin there with his tongue and Dan lost all ability to focus.

 “Maybe,” he whispered back, as collected as possible, and then everything dissolved into a rush of limbs and clothes and moans. It felt so good Dan completely lost all tethers to reality, lost himself in Phil.

 When they were both done and Phil had gently cleaned Dan up - in the cutest way any guy had ever done for him, that was for certain - they were just lying in bed, Dan’s head resting on Phil’s chest while they held each other close. Somewhere in the distance music was running as a background noise and from time to time, they’d say something, briefly discuss a topic, but mostly they were silent, quietly reveling in the intimacy.

 They remembered to exchange numbers this time, and Dan made it back to his hotel in time without a problem. The competition went by smoothly, he finished 14th, but Karl won the competition and the team lost all of their cool, celebrating deep into the night. ___ Phil’s first message made Dan dance through his flat for minutes, before he picked up his phone and texted back with a coolness that he in no way possessed. From there onwards it became increasingly natural to text him in almost every situation. They told each other everything - aside from anything relating to their jobs, which was still a topic that they stayed peculiarly clear of. Dan got progressively anxious about it, but couldn’t say anything either - he really didn’t want to tell Phil about his career. He feared rejection, laughter, anger; having a relationship with an athlete was often more work than it was worth, and he was aware of that. Not that they had a relationship - and what Dan wished for them to have was completely beside the point.

 When they met in Nizhny Tagil, Russia and Engelberg, Switzerland, it became increasingly hard to ignore the issue, but they did their best. They just avoided bringing it up, asking if the other was in town too by sending them seemingly innocent pics of the town signs. They met up at both places and fooled around. Phil noticed how much easier it was to stretch Dan open, and Dan admitted with burning hot cheeks that he had done it himself the past few weeks to be able to take Phil in the future. Phil assured him that it would come really useful the next time they saw each other, and Dan almost came just from that thought.

 The World Cup circus took place two weeks later, after Christmas, in his hometown Oberstdorf. Phil knew he lived here, so he didn’t even send a picture, just asked for the address and was there less than half an hour later. At this point Dan was utterly convinced it wasn’t just a series of coincidences, but found himself unable to do anything about it. He refrained from asking - because it would make the issue real, and because he was afraid of the answer.

 Dating, or even having an affair with a member of another team was not an option, even if he only belonged to the medical or technical staff. He was pretty sure he’d have seen Phil before if he’d be a fellow athlete, but couldn’t be certain of that either.

 So he kept quiet and continued to live in a blissful state of ignorance. When Phil arrived at his place he had a bottle of wine in the fridge and dinner on the stove, but they barely had the time to eat it before Phil dragged him into the bedroom and disposed of their clothes.

 He was gentle, so, so gentle, and didn’t seem to be in a hurry at all while Dan had fallen completely pliant before Phil even asked for the lube. He felt like he was on his way to paradise. Phil’s touches swept like clouds of ecstasy across his skin and Dan was utterly high on endorphins before they even truly began.

 When Phil’s first lube-coated finger entered him he couldn’t help but moan. He could feel Phil’s erection pressing into his thigh with the way he hovered over him and couldn’t wait to have it inside of him.

 Fortunately for him that also seemed to be Phil’s goal. He took his time, worked Dan open thoroughly, but there was an underlying urgeness that made Dan shiver.

 Phil pushed into him after making sure Dan was okay, slowly at first, then faster, and found Dan’s prostate almost instantly. His thrusts were strong and confident but careful and gentle at the same time and Dan was sure he had arrived in paradise. If there was another goal in life than to achieve the utter bliss he was in he was not interested in meeting it - at least not in that moment.

 Afterwards they cuddled up together in Dan’s bed, Brooklyn 99 running in the background. Phil had asked for Buffy - apparently it was not available in Italy so he usually spent most of his time abroad watching it - but gasped theatrically when Dan had to inform him that Buffy was not available on Netflix in Germany either, acting utterly affronted by the prospect. Phil’s pout made Dan’s brain short-circuit, offering him nothing but code 500 - error because of cuteness overload.

 “I can stay overnight, but I need to get going first thing in the morning. If you want me to?” Phil whispered when it had been silent for a while, and Dan looked up to him from his place on his chest. “I’d love that, Phil,” he assured him and they shared a kiss so sweet Dan was sure he’d be needing insulin.

 They still didn’t define their relationship, held back by all the unresolved circumstances, but they both knew it was more than just sex - and that seemed to be enough, if only for this night.

 ___

 By the time Dan woke up the next morning Phil was gone, but he had left him a sweet note on his pillow including a drawn heart and a message on WhatsApp. Dan wore a far-off smile the whole day and got teased endlessly by his teammates.

 He finished qualifying as 29th, and it made him utterly proud. The four hills tournament was infamous and prestigious, and in all his former attempts on his home hill he had been eliminated in the qualifying. Jumping at home was a whole different story than jumping anywhere else, and truth be told, he had never been able to handle the pressure. The sole participation of a World Wup was an honour, especially at home.

 The home team was allowed to have additional starters, so Dan had competed in the World Cup here before, but this year everything was different. This year, Karl clapped him on the back before he had to get ready for his jump, and Andi Wellinger wolf-whistled jokingly when he zipped his suit back up.

 The four hills tournament competitions were different than the others. Instead of the thirty best competitors advancing to the second round the first round was jumped out in duels, and winning your duel sent you to the second round regardless of the other competitors. Additionally, the five best athletes who lost their duel advanced, too - those were called lucky losers. The whole mode gave the competition more tension, making it more attractive for fans as well as for the athletes themselves, and Dan had always loved the concept.

 His duel opponent was an Italian athlete called Philip Lester. The Italian team had not achieved much for years now, losing and regaining their privilege to compete in the World Cup over and over again. Lester was a mostly blank page as far as the World Cup results were concerned, often even failing to make it into the actual competition. He made a few World Cup points in Wisla last year, meaning he made it into the top 30, and one top ten spot - in Oberstdorf.

 Still, both Dan and the coaches weren’t too worried. He should be able to do it.

 He was so focused on competing that the name didn’t even make him perk up - and he would come to regret that.

 On the competition day Dan was so nervous he thought he recognized Phil as one of the competitors in the waiting room, but he put it down as nothing but nerves and tried to focus on himself again. Karl gave him a few tips to cope with the pressure of a home World Cup and Dan was surprisingly successful in executing them, making him more focused and relaxed.

 Then it was his turn to jump. He had to set a standard for his opponent to meet, what made it even more precarious - he had no idea how far he’d have to go, so he decided to just give his all, no matter the cost.

 And how much that was.

 While jumping Dan was completely oblivious to the distance he had already passed. Only when he came close to landing he realized how far down hill he was, almost over the kurve of the hill, to the point where the ground got even again and the force to the bones in landing got a lot bigger.

 When he initiated the landing he could feel the compression all the way up to his torso, but he forced himself to attempt a telemark landing. His right foot almost slipped, making him slinger, but he managed to keep them together, preventing a fall.

 The fans cheered so loudly it was like a wave of support slammed against him, but instead of pushing him under it picked him up and carried him safely to the exit. He detached his skiers from his boots and picked them up, taking his place at one of the marked points next to the exit. For a second the atmosphere got tense as the points from the judges arrived and the computer calculated his end result, but then the arena was back to a loud cheering. The judges had given him points around 18 and with 20 being the maximum, that was a lot. He got a few points subtracted for good wind, but the end result was still great.

 While his opponent got ready the whole arena was so quiet Dan would have been able to hear a pin drop, making him even more anxious. He knew that he had great chances of advancing via lucky losers even if Lester beat him, but the wait was still almost too much.

 In the stress he completely forgot to pull off his ski glasses and helmet.

 Then his opponent landed and the whole arena erupted into cheering. Even without the points from the judges and the wind points it was obvious he’d get a lot less points than Dan, landing quite a few meters in front of the green line indicating his own distance.

 So, instead of watching the big screen showing the results, as he normally would have, he focused on his opponent, sliding down to the exit while simultaneously pulling off his glasses -

 It hit Dan like a hammer to the chest, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

 He knew those eyes. He’d recognize the piercing blue anywhere.

 Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach.

 “Phil.”

 ____

 They both carried on like nothing had happened. Dan had ripped down his glasses in something close to a trance, and Phil almost fell over before he even came to a complete halt, but they acted like nothing happened. Nothing.

 They high-fived, moved to a man hug, clapping each other on the back, then let go to move their separate ways; Dan to the leader box and Phil around the hill to his staff. It left Dan completely numb, somewhat detached from his body, for at least half an hour.

 Then Andi Wellinger arrived next to Dan to keep him company and somehow managed to get him back to reality. It wasn’t that he felt completely fine, that he wasn’t bothered anymore, no; it was more that Dan had locked the discovery in a tiny box and buried it somewhere in the back of his mind where he’d never stumble across it without actively searching it out. The emanating feelings he pushed down, down, down, until they were nothing but a faint whisper.

 That probably wasn’t the most healthy coping mechanism, but it at least allowed him to function as a reasonably sane human being. He simply didn’t have the time to deal with it - not right now. Not in the middle of a competition that was on its best way to making one of his biggest dreams come true.

 Only a few more jumpers and so far no one had come even close to his score. Andi was cheering loudly, but kept him occupied with jokes and funny stories, and Dan was so, so grateful for his presence.

 They both rooted for their teammates and celebrated with Karl when he won his duel, ranking on the fourth place.

 Then, like it happened completely unforeseen, the first round was over and Dan was still first, even with a pretty huge margin, and he didn’t seem able to cope. The second round started sooner then he’d hoped - he would’ve appreciated some time to calm down and refocus, but it seemed like time was flying, hurtling past so fast he couldn’t keep up.

 Even though he barely comprehended it was happening his second jump went great. Not as good as the first one, sure, but enough to keep his position and secure his first win of a World Cup - on his home hill!

 The German team celebrated loudly, almost excessively that night. Sure, they had to get to packing, moving over to Garmisch for the next qualifier tomorrow, but Andi, Karl, Stephan Leyhe and him had decided to take the same car, and they had a lot of fun on the two hour drive. When they arrived at their hotel they all got together for a round of cards, including their Coach and two other team members.

 Obviously, it was only stress keeping him from checking his phone - or so he tried to make himself believe.

 ___

 He didn’t sleep well that night. At around five am he finally gave into his anxious thoughts and checked his phone for messages, and surely enough, there was one from Phil waiting for him.

 I knew it was too good to be true.

 Dan’s heart skipped a beat before it started to throb painfully in his chest. Their harmony, the way they were completely in sync with each other, their wordless communication - all of that made him read between the lines, made him realize that Phil had made the decision…

 The only decision they had ever been allowed to make.

 He texted nothing back but one single word.

 Goodbye.

 ___

 The following weeks raced past Dan so fast he was unable to conceive any of it. He did well enough in the other competitions, placing in the top twenty in all of them. During the whole weekend in Val di Fiemme, Italy, he didn’t even seem to be conscious, only recalling the events vaguely afterwards. During the World Cup in Zakopane, Poland as well as their week spent in Sapporo, Japan he started to regain consciousness, but it felt like he wasn’t really there, like he was observing it from somewhere far away.

 At the beginning of February the World cup circus returned to Oberstdorf for ski flying. Surprisingly, Werner Schuster had given Dan the go to compete in it, despite the fact that he was young and mostly unexperienced in ski flying, and he needed some time to process that. So on the night before the first competition he decided to step out, take a walk around the beautiful village he called his home.

 As he strolled through the quaint, peaceful alleys, over the old market place, the Nebelhorn, the highest mountain directly connected to the village, stood tall and proud in the distance, faint light and blinking indicating the usage of snow groomers on the piste. He came to a halt in front of the large letters spelling out Oberstdorf in the spa park, encaptured by the sight in the distance. All of this meant so much to him, his life, his career, his home - and even though he missed his family back in England from time to time he knew he would never go back there. He had grown up here, in a boarding school for winter athletes, and was grateful his parents had let him make this decision.

 Still, sometimes he wished he was nothing but a normal boy - someone who could follow wherever his heart lead him.

 He knew, right now it lead to Phil.

 Tears started prickling in his eyes, obscuring his vision; white blended with the yellow shine of the lightbulbs and the pitch black of the night sky to an abstruse mashup of colours that started spinning until he couldn’t even distinguish between the ground and the sky. For the first time since this fateful competition he let himself think about it, let himself open the box and stop pushing down the feelings bubbling inside of him.

 It hurt. It hurt a whole lot. His heart laid in thousands of fragments in front of him, smashed on the cold, hard ground that was his reality. He didn’t grieve about a lost love, not yet, but about the what could have been. A voice told him this relationship could have developed into something big, and that only hurt more.

 When he toppled over, two strong arms engulfed him, and he sunk against a chest, into a smell so familiar he couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer.

 “Phil,” he sobbed into the thick winter coat, holding on to the man in front of him with everything he had, mumbling his name, over and over and over again.

 Phil. Phil. Phil.

 When he calmed down Phil was still there, gently caressing his hair and placing kisses onto it, all the while mumbling sweet nothings. Dan felt like bursting into tears all over again.

 “Dan, can we talk?” he asked when it had been quiet for a while, nothing but Dan’s still ragged breath and the odd calling of a bird interrupting the silence. Maybe he should have, but Dan simply didn’t have it in him to say no.

 ___

 Their talking turned into having sex as soon as they set foot into Dan’s flat and he wasn’t even surprised about it. He knew about the pull Phil had on him, mentally and physically, and he had pushed it down for so long he was proud he hadn’t bulged sooner.

 They ravished, revelled in each other - quite literally, on Phil’s side - without a sense of guilt or remorse. They were both completely aware of the situation, making conscious decisions - they could’ve stopped. Probably.

 Truth was, Dan didn’t want to.

 Truth was, Dan had spent the last few weeks barely even existing, subconsciously often so focussed on avoiding Phil that everything else seemed to smaller in comparison. He wanted more than that. More than existing - more than a tiny piece of his energy focussed on his sports. He loved being a ski jumper. And if keeping Phil was what he needed for that - so be it. It was a win-win situation, really.

 They did talk afterwards, in hushed whispers and mumbled assurances, but they talked, with a clarity and certainty that surprised them both. They agreed to keep seeing each other, casually, but seriously enough to make them promise to not see anyone else at the side.

 For Dan it was the boost of confidence and consciousness he needed. Sure, Werner Schuster hadn’t said much about his slacking performance and dropping results but the relief on his face when Dan managed to place second in the ski flying World Cup the next day spoke volumes.

 Overall, the following weeks Dan walked as if on clouds. There was a spring in his steps and a constant smile on his face and his teammates wouldn't let him hear the end of it. Even the quiet and shy Stephan Leyhe gave suggestive remarks that had Dan blushing crimson every time.

 Through the whole rest of the season, everything was more than amazing. Dan managed to get into the top ten in the overall World Cup and the German team was more than proud of him, celebrating him even days afterwards, even though there were others that managed to do the same. It was because he was a new addition, they kept telling him, and he couldn’t help but to grin widely about it. He was a part of the team now. He belonged there. It seemed more like a dream than reality - and yet it was.

 He was sure he had never felt as happy as this off-season. He spent the summer between training with the rest of his team, his friends, and Phil, basically travelling back and forth between Val di Fiemme, where Phil lived, and his home. He went on vacation / trainingscamp to the south sea with his team and made a journey home to see his parents and his little brother, and they finally stopped judging him for being an athlete - no, they almost seemed proud.

 Overall, he was thriving.

 The fall back to hard, unforgiving reality couldn’t have been harsher.

 He had to admit it was some case of hybris, of megalomania. They had been so save for months now that the beginning of the world cup made them reckless. Phil would sneak into Dan’s cabin for a quickie, or they’d hide behind them for a makeout-session. Later, Dan would question if it had been worth it for a bit of sex and a few stolen kisses, but he wouldn’t be able to estimate the worth of the time he had shared with Phil.

 It was invaluable.

 __

It wasn’t that one, single discovery, not someone running in on them having sex or catching them kissing, like it happened in movies or TV-shows.

 No, it all started with simple rumors.

 They were vague and innocent at the beginning; two athletes were said to hook up regularly, identities unknown. Andi, or Welli, as they called him, filled Dan in with low whispers and a hushed tone and Dan didn’t even think much about it. Affairs between jumpers weren’t common, sure, but not unheard of either, so he just assumed it was about someone from the widely varying austrian team.

 Then it got more specific. A German and an Italian, Andi told him a week later as they waited for their training to pick back up after a weather-inconvenience, and added a few suggestive questions just for good measure. Dan’s blood ran cold for just a second, then he was back to himself, shot a few equally suggestive remarks back and thought that was the end of it. He texted Phil that they should be a bit more careful but forgot about it just a few hours later.

 He never would have thought it would get through to the coaches.

 The next friday after the qualifying Werner Schuster got the whole team and his Co-trainer together at a table. It was the last World Cup station before christmas, the third one in the running season, so things had started to get back to normal after the commonly slack first two World Cups, so Dan didn’t even think to be worried. They had those team-meetings almost every week. Sure, the urgency in his trainer’s tone had caught him of guard, but it was probably just about the dropping performances this week. Surely. Certainly.

 “Glaubt nicht, dass ich das hier gern mache, Jungs,” he started and Dan raised an eyebrow to a perfect half circle, exchanging a quick look with Karl, who had come to be his best friend. He was shy and reserved, but he had warmed up to Dan, and them living in the same village had pushed them together quite quickly. They were able to talk about everything with each other, always shared a room and laughed about the same inside jokes, and Dan appreciated him a lot.

Don’t think I enjoy doing this, guys.

 “Es ist mir zu Ohren gekommen, dass einer von euch,” he focused directly on each and every one of them; Dan did his best to stay cool when his coach’s eyes came to a halt on his face, but he knew he’s a bad actor, “eine Affäre mit einem Springer hat. Aus einem anderen Land.” Dan had to gulp. He tried to keep it hidden, but Karl shot him a worried look and Dan started to become anxious. He crossed his arms in front of his chest to keep his hands from shaking. Karl still didn’t seem convinced, though, he knew him too well for that.

It has come to my attention that one of you has an affair with a jumper. From another country.

 “Es ist mir grundsätzlich egal, was ihr mit eurer Freizeit anstellt, Jungs. Aber ich muss euch dran erinnern, dass eine Affäre mit einem Konkurrenten gegen die Regeln ist.” For a while it was silent after this. They all looked up, avoided their Coach’s eyes while fervently searching for those of the others, all flitting through the room, trying to figure out who it was - and how to help them. Only Karl’s eyes stayed firmly on Dan’s face. He could feel them boring into him, and if it would have been anyone else’s they would have felt like daggers. Not Karl’s, though. Karl’s felt like honey on his skin, smooth and sweet. He was properly worried now, Dan was sure.

I generally don’t care what you’re doing with your free time, guys. But I have to remind you of the fact that an affair with an opponent is against the rules.

 “Ich will gar nicht wissen, wer’s war. Es interessiert mich nicht mal wirklich. Ich hab euch drüber informiert dass ich das leider nicht dulden kann, und damit ist die Sache für mich durch. Aber ihr wisst, dass Regelverstoß einen Ausstoß aus dem Team nach sich ziehen kann, so leid es mir tut. Gute nacht, Jungs.” With that, he got up and left, his Co-Trainer trailing behind him. Dan knew it wasn’t meant as harsh as it had sounded. Werner Schuster was a nice guy and a really good coach. But he also didn’t like slagging. Usually it was just pranks and jokes - they were a tight knit pack who liked laughing - but this - this was huge.

I don’t wanna know who it was. I don’t even really care. I’ve now informed you that I can’t tolerate such behaviour, and the thing’s done and over with in my book. But you know that a violation of our rules can entail expulsion from the Team, as sad as that would make me. Good night guys.

 After a while of silent conversation the others got up and left. Dan trailed behind them, feeling numb all over and completely not in control of the situation. His hand flitted to the phone in his jeans, but he didn’t pick it up, didn’t know what to say - didn’t even know what he wanted to say. This was his job, his career, and sure, a job wasn’t everything, but this was more than that. This was his life. He had finally made it, finally started to get somewhere, to have success - he didn’t want to, no, he couldn’t risk it all for a man he fooled around with.  

 He’s more than someone you fool around with, and you know that. You love him.

 Dan pushed the voice away but deep down he knew it was right. He loved Phil.

 What a cruel time to have that realization, Dan mused quietly, and watched almost indifferently as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces all over again.

 We have to stop. For good., he typed into his phone. Coach caught wind of something fishy. I love you. Goodbye.

 _____

 Karl found him half an hour later, sitting in his bed in a curled up position and staring into the darkness of the room. He had just come out of the bathroom, already in his piyama, and sighed worriedly when he took note of Dan’s current state. He sat down next to him and slided over till he was positioned similarly to Dan, back pressed into the wall.

 “Also warst du’s,” he whispered quietly. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, but Dan still nodded slowly. “Und Phil Lester?”

So it was you. And Phil Lester?

 His head shot up on his own accord and he could feel his eyes widen. For a moment he was frozen in shock, then he turned his head to stare at his best friend next to him. “Wie…?” His voice was completely hoarse, more a breath than a word, but Karl still managed to pick up on it.

How…?

 “Keine Sorge, es war nicht offensichtlich. Ich kenne Phil bloß schon eine Weile und er war nie so… Glücklich wie er gewesen ist seitdem du dabei bist. Ihr wart beide komplett durcheinander nach eurem Duell bei der Vierschanzentournee, und das schien ein zu großer Zufall zu sein.”

Don’t worry, it wasn’t obvious. I’ve just known Phil for a long time, and he has never been as… Happy as he’s been since you’re here. Then you were both completely out of it after the Duel at the four hills tournament, and it seemed too much for a coincidence.

 Dan calmed down considerably, laid his head back onto his knees, but refrained from saying anything. What was there to say, really?

 “Ich vermute du wusstest nicht, dass er auch ein Springer ist?”

I’m guessing you didn’t know he’s a jumper too?

 Dan just nodded, silently marvelling in the perceiving skills of his best friend. How freakishly observant was he, exactly, to puzzle that together all on his own?

 “Und als du’s realisiert hast war’s zu spät.”

And by the time you realized it was too late.

 Again, Dan just nodded. Even though he was still numb tears started to come into his eyes, but he couldn’t be bothered to move. Still, Karl noticed.

 “Wir schaffen das, Dan,” he said gently, moving closer to Dan and wrapping an arm around him. “Du bist nicht allein.”

We’ll get through this, Dan. You’re not alone.

 For the longest time they just sat there in the darkness, and Dan had never been more grateful for the silent, unconditional support Karl tended to offer than in this single moment.

 ____

 Seeing Phil after this was torture. Unfortunately for him, Dan’s consciousness had not decided to clink itself out again, so he was there and coherent when he ran by Phil on his way to the World Cup the next morning. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes met for just a second and the broken, defeated nod Phil gave him almost smashed him to pieces. Karl was there to keep him upright, keep him stable, to refrain him from snapping in half, but Dan knew it weighed heavy on his shoulders. Karl was a unbelievably compassionate man and seeing his friend this hurt didn’t go easy on him.

 It didn’t get considerably better after this. It was kind of the same, day in and day out he missed Phil with every fibre of his being. Anything reminded him about their time together and anything had the power to make him break down all over again. Karl was like a tower of strength right beside him all along the way, supporting him in a way that no one else could.

 Dan decided to stay home over Christmas. He was still grieving, nursing on his broken heart. The situation with Phil had broken it once already, but he had been able to mend it back together. Broken twice, though… It would take a long time to get over that, and a confrontation with his family would definitely not be helpful along the way.

 After Christmas came the Four Hills tournament, and Dan did terribly. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concentrated, wasn’t focused; it felt more like there was just no resistance in the air when he jumped, or at least not as much as he needed. Like the air was parting for him. Karl assured him it was only temporary, that he’d get better again as the season progressed, but Dan wasn’t so sure about that. Phil’s absence from his life weight heavily on him, dragging him down; like a rock had replaced his shattered heart and there was no way to shake it off.

 Werner Schuster didn’t ask any questions. They did their meetings, sure, analyzing Dan’s jump from all angles, but there was nothing they could do for him - technically, his jumps were completely fine. He held the skis in the right angle, the knees completely straight, his shoulders were pushed forward the slightest bit, just like they were supposed to, and his neck strained just the right amount. Even his take-off points were fine on most hills - he gave his coaches a mystery they had no idea how to solve.

 His emotions were the problem, his consciousness - his confidence. It was like Phil had taken it all away with him when he left, taken it away with no intentions to return it. The place usually occupied by his confidence felt empty, hollow in his chest and Dan just couldn’t deal with it. Phil had taken even more than just his heart, leaving him with a feeling so foreign he wasn’t able to decipher it.

 The worst part was that they both still cared. It wasn’t like in a usual breakup, where Dan could just trash talk his ex under alcoholic influence until they were nothing but a laughingstock. Phil hadn’t been shit to him or betrayed him or been emotionally horrid - there was nothing but environmental influences keeping them apart and that hurt even more than any other possible reason for a break up.

 Whenever he would meet Phil’s eye, when they sat together in the waiting room, when they passed each other between the technician’s cabines, there were still so many feelings shining in them Dan felt ready to break down and wail in agony right then and there. Karl was usually able to keep him sane, collected; he also kept him from doing stupid, reckless things.

 Competitive sportsmen where not really supposed to drink a lot of alcohol, but they were germans - drinking beer was practically a requirement to get into the team, meaning they were all able to hold their liquor quite well. But sometimes, when they felt really spent or restricted they'd open a bottle of some strong kind of alcoholic beverages and started drinking, for the sole purpose of loosing up, of getting drunk. During those time, he was most tempted to text or call or simply visit Phil, and it fell to Karl to keep him from that.

 “Es wär alles gut,” he slurred one night, “Wenn ich hät Tschüss sagen können, weißt du? Wenn ich’s gewusst hät. Wenn ich seinen Schwanz mehr hätte schätzen können. Ihn mir einprägen können.” That froze Karl in a state of mild confusion - he had obviously no idea how to deal with that statement; like he wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed about it or just sad.

Everything would be okay if I could’ve said goodbye ya know? If i would’ve known. Could’ve appreciated his cock more. Memorized it.

 They both knew it was a lie, too. They both knew that one single night would not be able to fix this, to get his feelings back in order. They also both knew that this was about so much more than just Phil’s cock.

 Dan had been in too deep for that.

 As the time progressed Dan’s performance stagnated at a bad level, but for Phil, it was like he was thriving. He brought in continuous top ten results and during his home World Cup in Val di Fiemme he even managed to snatch the second place. Dan was happy for him, obviously, but he was also devastated, not sure what to make of it. He knew Phil had been in for more than the sex. He knew Phil missed him - or at least he suspected it, with the longing looks they shared sometimes that made Dan lose reality. So why was he not more affected by it? Why did it seem to get Phil’s spirits up instead of down?

 Karl offered to get him the questions answered. He had forbidden Dan from seeking out direct contact, but he himself was a whole different story. He had always been friendly with Phil, he explained, and if he asked like a onlooker instead of someone who knew the story, he’d get the answers Dan needed - craved.

 “Er sagt er ist wütend,” Karl informed him just a week later while they were waiting for their sushi. The World Cup took place in Sapporo, Japan that weekend, and Dan had always loved sushi, so they had decided to go out for Dinner - just because they could. “Das… macht irgendwie Sinn,” Dan answered, eyes trained on the food in front of him, intently avoiding Karl’s gaze. “Wut auf das System.” He could see Karl nodding opposite to him, then a sharp intake of breath. “Das System...” he breathed, now the one avoiding the other’s eyes. Dan didn’t really follow, so he kept quiet. It was probably nothing anyway.

He says he’s angry.

That… kinda makes sense. Anger about the system.

The system...

___

 It happened once again the night before the ski flying World Cup at his home. Dan was wandering through the streets absentmindedly, trying to clear his head, when the thoughts overwhelmed him - the sadness, the loss. It danced in front of his eyes in the form of broad, black circles, obscuring his vision, stealing his consciousness. When he toppled over, Phil was there once again, catching him just in the fall.

 “Dan,” he whispered, breathlessly, wrapping his arms around him as if he never wanted to let go again. Dan reciprocated the hug weakly, choking back a sob.

 It only felt natural to pull back, to lean in for a kiss. It was overwhelming, incredibly amazing, and Dan just couldn’t comprehend how something so wrong could feel so bloody right.

 “We can’t do this,” he said quietly as he pulled back, letting his forehead sink against Phil’s. There were tears swimming in the man’s eyes and Dan just wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He couldn’t stand being in this situation, couldn’t stand being responsible for this.

 “I know,” was Phil’s broken answer, and Dan had to squeeze his eyes shut.

 “I’ll never forget you,” Phil whispered, pressing a tender kiss onto Dan’s forehead, and then he was gone.

 ___

 “Ich kann das nicht mehr.”

I can’t do this anymore.

 Dan’s sobbing made it almost impossible to speak, but he knew Karl would be able to tell - to understand.

 He ushered him into his flat in less than the blink of an eye. He took Dan’s coat and sat him down on the sofa, a steaming cup of tea in his hands mere minutes later. He listened to Dan’s ramble, his incoherent explanation; he wordlessly took the cup away when Dan started crying again, and then he held him, wordlessly, as he broke down all over again.

 “Dan, Ich… Ich hab da eine Idee. Um alles besser zu machen. Gib mir noch ein bisschen Zeit, okay?”

Dan, I… I had an idea. An idea to make it all better. Just give me a bit more time, okay?

 Dan was sure the quiet murmur he’d registered in a state halfway between sleep and wake had been nothing more than a dream.

 ___

 The next World Cup in Lahti, Finland was unsurprisingly hard for him. He had never particularly liked the hill, even before he’d lost his ski jumping abilities - or that was what it felt like anyway - and after the scene he’d had with Phil it was kind of obvious from the very beginning that concentrating on jumping was impossible.

 But it seemed like he wasn’t the only one distracted. Karl seemed oddly out of it, absentminded; he talked a lot with the rest of the team and was often in private conversations with the others. Dan’s consciousness, glad to concentrate on anything else then his broken heart, flung onto that so fast he was getting whiplashes. He just didn’t know what to make out of that. Karl had never been a secretive person, never had kept many secrets from Dan since they’d become friends. He had half a mind to ask someone about it, but he realized the only one that knew Karl well and wasn’t his Teammate was Phil, so that plan went down the drain instantly.

 After Lahti they went back home to Germany. The World Cup took place in Willingen that week, and even though it wasn’t the hill in his home village it was still nice to be back on familiar ground. It coated him in a sense of security, took his problems and his pain and wrapped them into a blanket of familiarity, kept them away. It was snowing, too, which made it even nicer; it abraded the sharp edges, made them round and harmless.

 When Dan arrived in Willingen Thursday afternoon the rest of his team was already there. Karl had been visiting Stephan Leyhe, who lived in the area, and therefore hadn’t taken the car with Dan, but it seemed suspicious. Something about Karl was still off, even if Dan still wasn’t able to pinpoint it exactly.

 He settled into the room he still shared with Karl, put down his luggage and changed into comfortable clothes. The others were downstairs in a hobby room that held equipment for table tennis, darts and billiard, but he needed a moment.

 That was when it knocked on the door. “Ja?” he shouted, confused about the intrusion and completely in the dark about who it might be. He feared it was his coach, wanting to talk to him about the bad performances, but the knock had been careful, restricted, barely audible, and that didn’t fit Werner Schuster at all.

 He hadn’t expected Stephan Leyhe to open the door. “Dan, können wir reden?” he asked gently, almost shy, his mouth caved upwards in the tiniest of smiles, but it seemed genuine.

Dan, can we talk?

 “Sicher,” he answered, almost breathlessly, and watched as Stephan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Sure.

 He took a seat on Karl’s bed, opposite to Dan, and seemed to need a moment to organize his thoughts, so Dan stayed silent, holding his breath.

 “Was dir passiert ist nicht fair, Dan,” he said than, voice low, almost raspy, his eyes trained on Dan’s duvet. “Es hält dich davon ab Leistung zu bringen, glücklich zu sein. Es hat niemandem geschadet, und ich finde nicht dass irgendjemand das Recht hat, dir das wegzunehmen.”

What’s happening to you isn’t fair, Dan. It keeps you from performing as well as you could, from being happy. It’s not harming anyone and I don’t think anyone has the right to take that away from you.

 Dan’s breathing hitched, his heart hammering in his chest. He was frozen into place, unable to move a muscle, so he had to watch helplessly as Stephan looked up and into his eyes. “Karl hat mit uns allen gesprochen. Dem ganzen Team. Uns ist allen aufgefallen, dass etwas mit dir nicht stimmt und wir wollen dass du glücklich bist. Der Trainer ist normalerweise nicht bestechlich, aber wir sind alle auf deiner Seite.”

Karl talked to us. To the whole team. We all realized something’s wrong with you and we want you to be happy. The coach usually isn’t bribable, but we’re all on your side.

 Dan stared at Stephan completely dumbfounded, no idea what to say. He was blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation, but it was like his brain couldn’t keep up with reality, unable to comprehend the situation at hand.

 Stephan smiled kindly at him, completely open now, shyness gone and replaced with a benevolence so genuine it only confused Dan more. “Vertraust du uns?” he asked with complete seriousness and Dan couldn’t help but nod wordlessly. “Dann kriegen wir das hin.”

Do you trust us? In that case we’ll make it happen.

 ___

 Dan had never been more proud to be part of this team than he was that night. The whole team got together at dinner and opened their case to Werner Schuster. They explained that they knew Dan long and especially well enough by now to be sure of his motives. He wasn’t spying on them to purposely get information to other teams, and he wouldn’t blabber them out carelessly either. Schuster seemed confused at first about why they thought that would be an issue, until it finally dawned on him. As he had promised he didn’t particularly care that it was Dan specifically, more that it had happened at all.  

 For at least half an hour the team listed reasons why it wouldn’t be a problem, the thing that Dan and Phil had, whatever it was specifically, with limited success. Werner Schuster seemed to remain quite sceptical, until Welli spoke up. “Komm schon, Trainer. Wir wissen alle, dass es keine Nachteile gäbe. Dan’s Leistungen während dieser... Sache waren deutlich besser, oder nicht? Das ist doch auch für das Team gut!”

Come on, coach. We all know there’d be no downside. Dan’s performances were better during that… Thing were considerably better, were they not? That’s even good for the team, too!

 For a short moment it was quiet. Then Karl, who had kept quite closed up for the discussion despite being the driving force behind it, looked Werner Schuster deadly in the eye and stated: “Er ist mein bester Freund, Trainer. Er liebt Phil. Er macht ihn glücklich. Ich kann nicht mit ansehen, wie du ihm das wegnimmst.” The indication behind his words were clear. And if that wouldn’t have been quite drastic enough, the whole rest of the team agreed loudly and wholeheartedly.

He’s my best friend, coach. He loves Phil. He makes him happy. I can’t stand by and watch you take that away from him.

Silence settled over the group. The other jumpers all looked their coach dead in the eye, staring him down, while Dan had an internal breakdown. How was it possible that all of them were so bloody nice to him - that they all liked him enough to do this for him?

 “Also… Was ihr damit sagen wollt ist ihr tretet alle zurück wenn ich nicht zustimme?” the coach asked, flat and serious. The group just nodded, once and in total synchronicity.

So… What you’re saying is you’re all quitting if I don’t say yes?

 Out of nowhere there was a smile tugging on the corner of his lips and he looked Dan straight in the eye. “Sieht so aus als hätte ich gar keine andere Möglichkeit, was?” Suddenly it was loud in the room. There were arms wrapping around Dan until he was the center of a group hug, but all he could do was sit still and blink, still trying to process what his team was willing to do for him.

Looks like I don’t have a choice here, doesn’t it?

“Ich hab dir doch gesagt wir kriegen das hin,” Karl whispered into his ears, and that’s when the realisation settled into his brain. Seconds later he was crying his eyes out, but that was okay. He had his team to dry them.

I told you we could do it.

 _____

 Afterwards, he needed a minute alone, so he put on his team jacket, overly proud to be able to wear it, donned his head and stepped outside into the still falling snow.

 In the dark the snow only got more beautiful. The old lamp posts shed yellow-tinted light, and as Dan walked along fields of snow and further away from civilization he mused about what to do now. There was a chance Phil didn’t even want to have… anything with him anymore. It had been quite some time and theoretically speaking, they had never been a couple; maybe he had moved on or had enough of Dan’s problems - or maybe his own coach would have a problem with it. What if it had all been in vain?

 He fiddled with his phone for a second as he walked through the snow, but he pocketed it again. In all honesty, he was scared. Right now, his relationship with Phil was Schrödinger’s cat, alive and dead at the same time. What if he wrote that message, made that call, and it was entirely dead?

 As he looked around, deep in his thoughts, he noticed a figure walking in the opposite direction. It was hard to make them out through the falling snow, but as he got closer, he could make out black hair, covered in white specks that would prove to be snowflakes, clad in a blue jacket with a tiny flag on the left side - an Italian flag.

 They met directly under the glow of a yellow light. The outside world was dark, obscured, almost invisible to him as he gazed into light blue eyes. There was pain shining in them and Dan wanted nothing else but to make it go away. It did answer a few of his questions though.

 It was obvious Phil was not any more over it than Dan was.

 “Dan,” he breathed out, his voice raspy and hurt, and Dan couldn’t help but took a step closer.

 “What is your coach’s view on it, Phil?” he asked, almost breathless. He could hear the urgency tainting his own voice, could feel it deep down in his bones.

 “Does it matter, Dan?” He looked utterly defeated, but Dan couldn’t help with that. Not until he had an answer.

 Apparently his urging eyes were enough to make Phil go on.

 “He doesn’t care, but -”

 That was the part were Dan cut him of. Where he stormed forward and kissed Phil, with all of the passion and love still stored in the deepest corner of his heart. He didn’t simply open the box, he smashed it open, spilling all its content out, filling him to the brim with a deep warmth that should be unexpected in the freezing temperature and falling snow, but felt like the exact opposite.  

 “What -” Phil tried to ask when they finally broke apart, but Dan cut him off yet again, a grin on his face so wide his cheeks started to hurt. “It’s okay. My team, they -  they’re so great Phil, bloody hell - they made my coach see reason. They convinced him. He’s fine with it!”

 Through the tangled, incoherent explanation that was all that Dan was able to offer Phil’s eyes got wide, disbelieving. Then Dan fell quiet, his heart so full it hurt, and Phil finally seemed to understand.

 “Oh my god,” he breathed out, then his lips were on Dan’s and for the next few minutes, no words came from either of them.

 When they came up for air, cheeks flushed, Phil took Dan’s face between his hands, his blue eyes shining so vibrantly Dan thought he might faint. There were golden flecks swimming in th, truly standing out through the yellow glow, and for a second Dan was mesmerized by them. Then Phil’s voice brought him back to reality.

 “I love you, Dan. Oh god, I love you so much. Will you be my boyfriend?”

 How is this guy even real?

 He didn't hesitate for even a nanosecond. “Of course Phil, of course. I love you too!”

 Phil brought his hand up to gently tug the beanie from his head, then he laid their foreheads together, gazing into Dan’s eyes. “Is this what happiness feels like?” Dan asked faintly, almost unaware of his own words. Phil just smiled, and then they kissed again under the yellow glow of an old lamppost, snow still falling, covering them both in white flecks.

 ___

 The day after Dan’s performance was suddenly back, and full force. He basically annihilated the competitors during the first jump and didn’t ease off much in the second.

 When the computer was done calculating after his second jump, showing a big, glowing 1 behind his name, and he was suddenly engulfed in a warm hug from his boyfriend, Karl and the rest of his team not too far behind, Phil’s voice rung in his ears, filling him with warmth all over again. “Yes, Dan. This is what happiness feels like.”