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izzysink · 2 days ago

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𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 𝟷𝟽𝟺𝟿 ✎ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠: 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 ✎ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟷 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟸 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟹

𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑜 = @lanalosty0uu - you should totally check out their steve x reader time travel fic here on Tumblr!

I'm currently undecided on who to pair the reader with atm lol 🌝 but that means that it's kinda up to you 🫵 :0 if you have a character you'd like for the pairing, drop a comment and if I like them or feel it fits with the story I'll use them!! but!!! I won't write poly so you've gotta pick one 😔 ik ik it's a hard choice babes I know you can do it!! can you tell I like exclamation points

“I’m heading out! I’ll be back after my comp-sci class!” you call to your friend Hannah from the door of your dorm at Hawkins Community College, waiting a moment for a sleepy response from the pile of blankets at the end of your roommate’s bed. You shut the door, not bothering to lock it because you knew Hannah had a class pretty soon anyway. You whistle down the small corridor of the singular dormitory for HCC, checking your bag for the essentials; laptop, phone, charger, wallet, keys.

You’d never expected to end up in Hawkins. Your parents had envisioned you going to an ivy league since you were little, enrolling you in extracurriculars and tutoring as soon as you could read and write; but you didn’t really want that for yourself, you weren’t the best at school - not the worst, but you weren’t yale level, like your parents wanted. After your parents insisted you only apply for places like Harvard and MIT, it didn’t surprise you that by the end of senior year you had no college to drive off to like so many of your friends. You had scrambled to find a place at any college that would take you, scraping the barrel for empty spaces, until a college from the middle-of-nowhere-Indiana, Hawkins, accepted you and your average test scores for a computer science course.

Walking to the campus, you check your phone, giggling at the bickering of your friends on the group chat and the tiktoks Hannah sent you last night. Hawkins Community College has its own campus, but it uses the old high school building as well (a new building was made for Hawkins High in the 2000s, and the old one went out of use until the community college picked it up and refurbished it for the Arts building).

You didn’t have any arts classes, but there was a little known shortcut through the old high school building to the main college campus, and you had made the route your little ritual of the week. It calmed you to walk through the old halls and be saturated in that old school smell and oil paints, getting to see unfinished paintings hung on the walls to dry or works in progress sat against the wall. There was a corridor on the way to the shortcut that was lined with shelving units, all stuffed full with bowles and sculptures and mugs. Your favourite little ritual was to see which ceramics had been kilned, picked up, or painted each week you had your comp-sci 101 class.

This week, the swirling set of green plates you’d been eyeing for yourself had disappeared, whisked away by their creator. In their place sat an array of little figurines, you guessed they were for a board game of some sort with their angry poses and weapons, axes and magic wands held delicately in their hands. You were entranced in the precision and detail of the mini figures, quiet admiration floating in your mind as you continued on to your class.

The shortcut was just through a door on the left, it led into a small, little used drama room that had a back entrance door to the yard of the lecture building of Hawkins College. Checking your bun in the glass of the old classroom door, you made sure your claw clip was still in place as you opened the door and–

A chorus of sound burst from the dimly lit room, a small group of high school boys sat around a table in matching black and white shirts, a boy your age with a mop of curly hair sat at the head of the table on a plush armchair. The table was filled with dice and figurines and pens and paper, you guessed it was DnD, you had a couple of friends back home who played, and you’d even sat in on a couple of sessions with them before deciding it wasn’t for you.

As soon as you were noticed, all sound stopped, their faces turning to you in surprise. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you said, inching past the table towards the back door, “I didn’t realise this room was being used, I’ll be out in a moment don’t worry,” you flash a sheepish grin to the hoard of teenage boys gaping at you. Insecurity bubbled in your stomach a bit, they’re like 12, you thought, snap out of it, you’re in college now!

Nobody replied, which you thought was a bit rude, but oh well, you had a degree to earn, and you probably wouldn’t see them again anyway. You opened the back door to head to the IT building, but when you stepped outside, it felt like you were sucked into an 80s time capsule, neons and shoulder pads and straight leg jeans assaulted your eyes from every corner. Also, why were there so many teenagers? The high school was a 20 minute walk away from the college. You got a couple of odd looks from some seniors, all decked out with massive hair and even bigger earrings, you could tell some cheerleaders were judging your outfit, which, rude, you thought you looked pretty cute today. You were wearing some baggy low waist jeans with the mini Ugg boots you’d gotten for Christmas a few months earlier, as well as a baby tee with a cute cat graphic on the front. To top it all off, you’d worn your favorite jacket and some little hoop earrings.

Walking backwards, you went back into the minor safety of the inside, at least the drama room had less kids having an 80s phase. You paused once the door shut with a click, looking around confusedly at the room you hadn’t noticed when you walked through seconds prior. You were pretty sure that whiteboard wasn’t there before, the same with that rack of costumes and those desks piled in the corner. The thing that caught you off guard the most was the writing on the whiteboard. There, marked in neat red pen, was the date 10/03/1986.

The hell?

You tried to ignore the boys sitting around the table who were obviously staring at you as you fished your phone out of your bag, checking the date, yeah, 10/03/2025. You looked up and down from your phone to the whiteboard a couple times before awkwardly walking back to the other door. You’d take the long way then.

You opened the door before immediately closing it again.

Hell. No.

“You okay there, princess?” your head snapped up to meet the eyes of the guy at the head of the table. Looking at him more closely, he looked like a total 80s metal head, crazy hair and rings on each finger. You mouthed a response, not really knowing what to say, I’m stuck in an 80s revival high school, surrounded by teenagers with big hair and all of the dates on the walls say it's 1986 when last time I checked it was 2025 and I’m late to my comp-sci class and-, you get the point.

Since you figured you didn’t have anything else to lose you asked, “sorry, um- where am I?” A younger boy, you guessed a freshman, with baby fat and a mess of curls made a face at your response, “Hawkins High?” he answered with a lisp blinking at you confusedly as you panicked over the new information. How could you have gotten from your college to a building 20 minutes away?

Scratch that, what the hell was going on?

“Okay, thanks,” you say distractedly as you think of what to do next, you look back to the eldest boy, you really needed to catch his name, “Do–” you were cut off by the bell, a lethargic pickup of footsteps outside the door telling you that it was lesson time next, not the end of school.

A chorus of groans rang out in the room as the boys got up dejectedly to get to their next class. You were swept up in the wave of kids exiting the room before you could get another word in edgewise and you found yourself back in the middle of an 80s tornado as the boys dispersed to their respective classes.

The one who had sat at the head of the table leant against the wall as you stood in the middle of the corridor, marveling at the disappearance of your favorite pottery shelves, instead replaced by school lockers and wall decals with various Hawkins High memorabilia. Students swerved around you, giving you odd looks and confused faces, you were clearly in the wrong place.

When the corridor emptied and the halls quietened, the boy spoke up, “I take it you’re not from around here? I’m Eddie,” you spared him a glance before introducing yourself. Don’t get you wrong, he seemed sweet and all, but your mind was a little preoccupied to engage in small-talk.

You decided to at least leave the school, it would be really awkward if a teacher found a college student just wandering the halls, but then again, looks like we’re in the 80s now, and from what your parents had told you about growing up in the 80s, most people wouldn’t care that much about some rando in the school.

You thought it better not to test your luck. “I’m… gonna go,” you tell Eddie, not waiting for a response before beelining it back the way you came. Navigating the hallways, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at how different everything looked, how there was still art on the walls, but done by different people, there were club posters smattered around the school, basketball tryouts were next week apparently, and the walls were almost pristine compared to the paint and grime smudged college block it had become almost 40 years in the future.

You sped-walked through the front office, trying to make it seem like you weren’t not supposed to be there, and burst into the midday sun, tension melting out of your muscles immediately once you escaped the high school.

You stood there for a few minutes, wondering what to do. You didn’t want to even think the utterly stupid idea that kept prodding at your mind. Worried that if you allow yourself to question it that you’d go insane. Not that this situation wasn’t already insane.

You heard your stomach rumble. Well, food didn’t seem like such a bad start.

87 notes · View notes

movingmusically · 3 days ago

Note

I am obsessed with your writing!!! I was wondering if you could write about the reader being a singer on tour and Austin being there to support her? THANK YOU!!

Author’s Note:

Thank you ☺️ I hope it’s what you had in mind!

Word Count: 11,915

Masterlist

Headliner

The roar of the crowd was deafening, their voices a single, electric wave that washed over you like a warm tide. The stage lights blazed, transforming the arena into a kaleidoscope of colour and energy. You could feel it—the magic of the moment, the kind that made your pulse race and your skin hum with electricity. This was what you’d dreamed of. This was the payoff for every sleepless night, every sacrifice.

As you launched into the final chorus, the crowd sang with you, their voices lifting yours higher. Thousands of people, united by a song you’d poured your soul into. Your heart swelled, the ache of exhaustion forgotten in the glow of their energy. This wasn’t just a job. It was everything you’d ever wanted.

When the last note faded into the air and the spotlight dimmed, you stood on the edge of the stage, soaking it all in. “Thank you!” you called into the mic, your voice ringing over the cheers. Your grin was wide and genuine, your heart still pounding with adrenaline as you gave the crowd one last wave before heading offstage.

Backstage was chaotic, but in the best way. Crew members offered quick congratulations, their hands clapping against your shoulders as you passed. Your manager handed you a water bottle, rattling off tomorrow’s schedule, but you barely heard her. You were still riding the high of the performance, your body buzzing with energy that wouldn’t let you stand still. You bounced lightly on your feet, your smile almost giddy.

“Hell of a show tonight,” one of the sound techs called, giving you a thumbs-up. You laughed, raising your bottle in thanks, your mind already replaying the best moments from the set.

In the dressing room, you peeled off your jacket and caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You were flushed, glowing, your eyes still sparkling from the rush. This was why you pushed so hard. This was the dream—the kind you’d spent years chasing. And tonight, it felt worth every moment.

The energy backstage after another successful show was electric, the buzz of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Your team ushered you toward the makeshift meet-and-greet area, a small room tucked just behind the stage where fans had gathered for the post-show event. You barely had time to catch your breath before the doors opened, and a group of wide-eyed fans entered, clutching posters, albums, and carefully crafted gifts.

Your cheeks already ached from smiling, but as the first fan stepped forward, the exhaustion melted away. She was a teenager, maybe fifteen, with a shy smile and a journal clutched tightly to her chest. Her hands trembled as she passed it to you.

“I—I wrote this for you,” she stammered, her voice barely audible over the murmurs of the others. “Your music got me through… a lot. Especially when things at school were… hard.”

Your throat tightened as you flipped through the journal, its pages filled with sketches, letters, and lyrics she’d written herself. The care and vulnerability in every word hit you square in the chest.

“This is beautiful,” you said softly, looking up at her. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Her eyes lit up, a mix of relief and disbelief. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” you said, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. “You’re so talented. And brave.”

Her shoulders straightened a little, her smile growing. “Your song—‘Rise’—that one’s my favourite. I used to listen to it every day on the way to school. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

You blinked quickly, trying to keep the emotion from spilling over. “I’m so glad it helped you. That’s why I do this—to connect with people like you.”

She nodded, biting her lip to stop the tears from falling. “Thank you,” she whispered, stepping aside to let the next fan approach.

The meet-and-greet continued, each fan bringing their own stories, laughter, and moments that reminded you why this was all worth it. One fan even brought a small dog plush, complete with a hand-knitted bandana with your logo embroidered on it.

“It’s for your dog!” they explained, their enthusiasm contagious. “I hope it fits, but I can make another if it doesn’t.”

You laughed, holding the plush up for your team to see. “This is adorable. Thank you so much!”

By the time the meet-and-greet ended, your spirits were soaring. As you walked back to your dressing room, you carried the gifts and notes close to your chest, their weight a reminder of how much your music meant to people.

Your manager caught your eye, a knowing smile on her face. “Good crowd tonight, huh?”

“The best,” you said, your voice warm. “I needed that.”

The next few days followed the same rhythm. Each night brought a new city, a new stage, and a new crowd that screamed your lyrics back at you with an intensity that made your heart swell. You started every show with the same wide-eyed excitement, feeding off the energy of the fans and letting it carry you through the night.

Even the whirlwind pace didn’t faze you at first. Backstage meetings with fans left you glowing, their stories reminding you why you loved this life. On the bus rides between cities, you laughed with your bandmates, trading inside jokes and sharing snacks like it was summer camp. The exhaustion was there, creeping in at the edges, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the dream you were living.

One night, after the crew had cleared out and the buzz of the show still hummed in your chest, your phone lit up with Austin’s name. Grinning, you swiped to answer, your voice still giddy with adrenaline.

“Hey, rockstar,” he teased, his voice warm and familiar. “How many bras were thrown at you tonight?”

You laughed, leaning back against the couch in your dressing room. “Only three. A slow night, clearly.”

“Tragic,” he deadpanned. “Do I need to start sending decoys to up the numbers?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to stop smiling.

He chuckled, the sound like a balm to your nerves. “Okay, but seriously, how was it?”

“Amazing. The crowd was insane, and they actually sang the bridge louder than me. I think I could’ve just stood there and let them do the work.”

“Sounds like they’ve got taste,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “But don’t let them replace you just yet.”

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “And how was your day, Mr. Hollywood? Please tell me something boring. I need balance.”

“Oh, absolutely riveting,” he said, his voice dropping into a faux-earnest tone. “I spent twenty minutes debating whether to have cereal or toast this morning. Then I stared at a script for an hour without reading a single word. Truly groundbreaking stuff.”

You snorted, feeling some of the tension in your body dissolve. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“What, to know that I’m a human disaster?” he teased.

“No,” you said softly, your smile fading into something gentler. “To hear your voice.”

His tone softened too, the humour giving way to sincerity. “Anytime, baby. You know I’m always here, right?”

“I know,” you murmured, your chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and longing. “I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too,” he said quietly, the emotion in his voice matching your own. “But you’ve got this. I’ll be cheering from here until I can do it in person.”

The call ended a few minutes later, leaving you with a lingering warmth that stayed with you as you packed up and headed back to the hotel.

Austin was a constant presence, even from afar. He sent thoughtful texts before every show, little reminders to “breathe” or “kill it,” and FaceTimed whenever your schedules lined up. He didn’t have to say much—just hearing his voice steadied you, grounding you amidst the chaos.

But as the days stretched into weeks, the cracks started to show.

It was subtle at first. A missed meal here, a hoarse voice there. The adrenaline that once carried you through each night now left you jittery and drained, making it impossible to sleep. You found yourself staring at the ceiling in dark hotel rooms, your body aching and your mind racing with to-do lists you’d never have time to complete.

By the third week, you were running on fumes. The fans’ cheers were still exhilarating, but the feeling didn’t last as long as it used to. As soon as the stage lights dimmed, the weight of it all came crashing down. The early mornings, the constant travel, the pressure to give 110% every single night—it was starting to feel like too much.

That night, as you sang the second chorus of your most popular song, something unexpected happened. Your voice wavered—not enough for the audience to notice, but enough for you to feel it. The high note you’d hit effortlessly a week ago caught in your throat, forcing you to push harder to recover. For a split second, panic surged through you, your mind scrambling to stay in the moment.

The crowd didn’t seem to notice—they were still singing along, their energy undiminished—but the strain lingered in your chest. By the time the song ended, your smile felt a little more forced, your body suddenly heavier as you moved across the stage.

You shook it off as best as you could, slipping back into the rhythm of the set. But the small falter stayed with you, a quiet reminder that your body and mind were nearing their limits.

Backstage, the usual hum of post-show excitement felt quieter, the high of the performance dulled by the ache in your throat and the exhaustion creeping into your muscles. You plastered on a smile for your team, but the weight of the tour was becoming harder to ignore.

One night, after a particularly gruelling show, you collapsed onto the couch in your dressing room, your legs too heavy to move. Your manager popped her head in, clipboard in hand. “Quick debrief in ten, then we’ll head back to the hotel. Tomorrow’s packed, so try to get some rest.”

You nodded, your grin feeling a little forced now. “Got it.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time all night, you were alone. The silence was jarring after the noise of the arena, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders like a heavy coat. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to sleep for a week, to stop moving for just one day.

Your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with Austin’s name. You grabbed it instinctively, your heart lifting as you read his message.

Saw some clips from the show tonight. You killed it, baby. Wish I could’ve been there. ❤️

The tension in your chest eased slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. He always knew how to make you feel seen, even from miles away. You typed out a quick reply.

Wish you were here too. Miss you. ❤️

Setting the phone down, you leaned back, closing your eyes as the silence of the room pressed down on you. You missed him more than you wanted to admit. His presence, his laugh, the way he could make you feel like yourself when everything else felt overwhelming. But he wasn’t here. And that ache was starting to feel unbearable.

Touring wasn’t just a job—it was a lifestyle. Early mornings blurred into late nights, the adrenaline of performing keeping you wired long after the crowds had gone home. Your body was constantly on the edge of exhaustion, your voice strained from pushing it night after night. Even the days off weren’t really “off.” There were interviews, photoshoots, and endless planning for the next stop.

But the hardest part wasn’t the physical toll—it was the emotional one. You gave so much of yourself to the world every night, there was barely anything left by the time you were alone in your hotel room. And that’s when you felt it the most: the loneliness, the ache of being away from the people who made you feel like yourself.

Austin did his best to fill that void. While he couldn’t be there in person, he always found ways to remind you that you weren’t alone. Care packages greeted you at nearly every hotel room—thoughtful little surprises that made the distance between you feel smaller. Sometimes it was handwritten letters, filled with his familiar scrawl and quiet reassurances that he was proud of you. Other times, it was Polaroids from home: his favourite corner of the couch where the two of you would spend lazy afternoons, a sunrise from his balcony, or a snapshot of your dog curled up in a patch of sunlight. And then there were the snacks—your favourite chocolates, crisps, or that tea he swore tasted like dirt but always made you feel better.

The packages were like lifelines, pulling you out of the endless churn of days on tour and back to the comfort of what you’d built together.

And when the care packages weren’t enough, there were the late-night FaceTime calls. No matter how exhausted he was, he’d sit propped up in bed, hair mussed, his voice soft but steady as he listened to you vent. You didn’t have to sugarcoat anything for him. When the adrenaline had worn off and the weight of the day pressed down on you, Austin was your safe place to fall apart.

“Tell me everything,” he’d say, his eyes intent on yours through the screen. “The good, the bad, all of it. I’m here.”

Those conversations were your sanctuary, a reminder that even when the world demanded more than you felt you could give, there was someone who saw you—not the performer, not the polished version of yourself—but the real you.

But it wasn’t the same. You missed his touch, the way his hand would find yours without even thinking. You missed the quiet comfort of his presence, the way he could make you feel seen and understood even in your most chaotic moments.

Still, you pushed through, because this was your dream. And as much as it demanded from you, it also gave you so much in return. The fans who sang your lyrics back to you, the moments on stage when the world melted away, the pride you felt in building something that mattered—it all kept you going.

But some nights, when the adrenaline wore off and the silence closed in, you wondered how much longer you could juggle it all. And that’s when you’d reach for your phone, scrolling through old pictures of you and Austin, your thumb lingering on his smile.

The next morning, you woke up with a dull ache in your chest, the weight of the tour pressing heavier than usual. The care package waiting on your hotel desk brought a brief smile to your face—Austin’s handwriting scrawled across the envelope in messy block letters—but even that wasn’t enough to shake the exhaustion. You carried the unopened box with you to the bus, telling yourself you’d open it later, when you weren’t so tired.

By the time you reached the next venue, the adrenaline was harder to summon. You plastered on a smile during soundcheck, nodding along as your manager ran through the schedule. But even as you took the stage that night, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered, How much longer can I keep this up?

The breaking point came two nights later, in yet another anonymous hotel room. You’d barely made it through the show, your voice straining to hit notes that usually came easily. Backstage, you’d smiled through fan photos and listened to your team’s endless plans for the next city. But the moment you closed the door to your room, the exhaustion hit you like a wave, pulling you under.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, fighting back tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to feel. The dream you’d worked so hard for had become a treadmill you couldn’t step off, and in that moment, you weren’t sure you had the strength to keep going.

Your eyes drifted to the edge of your suitcase, where Austin’s care package sat untouched. With trembling hands, you tore it open, revealing the familiar mix of snacks, letters, and Polaroids he always sent. But something else caught your eye—a small, battered USB drive tucked between the notes. Your heart twisted as you pulled it out, instantly recognising it as his.

Plugging it into your laptop, you found a single file. The title made your breath catch.

Demo – Y/N.

Your hands shook as you clicked play. The moment the melody filled the room, you froze. It was raw, unpolished—your voice accompanied only by an acoustic guitar. You remembered this song. You’d written it years ago, before the tours, before the arenas. It was a love letter to music itself, a song that had poured out of you in the quiet of your tiny apartment. You hadn’t heard it in years.

Attached to the file was a note, typed out in Austin’s words:

I found this the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about how far you’ve come. You’ve always had that fire in you, baby. Don’t let the noise drown it out. I believe in you. Always.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared at the screen, the melody wrapping around you like a warm embrace. For the first time in weeks, the weight pressing on your chest eased just enough to let hope slip through.

Without thinking, you grabbed your phone and dialled his number. It rang twice before his voice came through, warm and steady.

“Hey, baby,” he said, concern lacing his tone. “What’s wrong?”

Your voice cracked as you spoke. “I found the demo.”

There was a pause, then his voice softened. “What’d you think?”

“I… I forgot how much I loved it,” you admitted, wiping at your cheeks. “How much I loved all of this before it got so… overwhelming.”

“I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I sent it. I wanted to remind you of who you are, not just who the world thinks you are.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his words. “Austin, I don’t think I can keep doing this without you. It’s too much.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “You’re stronger than you think. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, even if I can’t be there.”

His words settled over you like a balm, soothing the ache you hadn’t been able to shake. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For always knowing exactly what I need.”

He chuckled softly, the sound like a lifeline. “That’s my job, isn’t it? Now, get some sleep. You’ve got another show tomorrow, and I want to see you kill it again.”

You smiled through the tears, the tension in your chest finally starting to release. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Now, close your eyes and dream big, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, letting his words wash over you.

As the call ended and you climbed into bed, the exhaustion still lingered, but it felt lighter now. You weren’t alone in this—not really. And as the melody of the demo replayed in your mind, you remembered why you’d started this journey in the first place.

The next evening, after another long day of interviews and press commitments, you found yourself back in your hotel room, phone pressed to your ear as Austin’s familiar voice filled the quiet space.

“Tell me again why you don’t just stow away in my luggage?” you teased, trying to keep your tone light despite the ache of missing him.

“Because I’d never fit, and you’d never make it through airport security,” he shot back, his voice warm and teasing. “Besides, I think your team might notice if I started hanging around eating all the snacks.”

You laughed, the sound genuine for the first time all day. “They’d probably thank you. I’m not very good at sharing.”

“Noted,” he replied, his voice softening. “How’re you holding up tonight, baby?”

You hesitated, the truth sitting heavy in your chest. “Better now,” you admitted, letting the sound of his voice wrap around you like a balm. “It’s just been a lot, you know?”

“I know,” he said, his voice steady. “But you’re killing it. I’ve seen the clips—they’re all losing their minds over you. I mean, I get it. Look at you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I know it will,” he said, his tone playful. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you.”

His words warmed something deep inside you, easing the tension that had been building all day. Before you could respond, a sudden knock at the door startled you, the sound cutting through the quiet.

“Hang on,” you said, frowning as you slid off the bed. “Someone’s at the door.”

“It’s probably room service,” Austin said, though there was an odd note in his voice—something almost… expectant.

You padded to the door, phone still pressed to your ear. “I didn’t order anything.”

When you swung the door open, your breath caught in your throat.

Austin stood there, his familiar lopsided grin lighting up his face, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He looked tired, but it didn’t matter. He was here.

“Austin?” you whispered, frozen in place. “What—how—?”

He raised a brow, his grin widening. “You gonna let me in, or are we doing this in the hallway?”

Without thinking, you dropped the phone and launched yourself into his arms, your heart racing as his warmth enveloped you. He chuckled softly, his hands coming up to steady you as you clung to him.

“You’re really here,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I thought you couldn’t—”

“I couldn’t not,” he interrupted, his voice low but steady. “You needed me. So here I am.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you shook your head, barely able to believe he was standing there. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiled softly, his hand lifting to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Where else would I be?”

Your heart swelled as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours, filled with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “Every second.”

Without another word, his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly deepened, all the longing and emotion from weeks apart pouring into it. Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer as your heart raced. Without breaking the kiss, you stepped back into the room, tugging him with you, and he followed willingly, the door clicking shut behind him.

His hands slid upward, finding the hem of your shirt and slipping beneath it. His warm palms against your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you gasped softly into his mouth. The feeling of his touch, his presence, was so overwhelming you felt like you might break apart and piece yourself back together all at once.

“Austin…” you murmured against his lips, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low and breathless. His hands smoothed over your back, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your lips, then your jaw, trailing down to your neck. Each touch felt grounding, like he was pulling you out of the haze you’d been trapped in for weeks.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your breaths coming in shallow bursts. His eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with so much tenderness and love it nearly undid you.

“You don’t know how much I needed this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I think I do,” he said softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek, wiping away the tear you hadn’t even realised had fallen. “I hated not being able to be here for you.”

“You’re here now,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing along his jaw. “That’s all that matters.”

He smiled faintly, leaning into your touch, before his lips found yours again, slower this time but no less intense. His hands roamed along your back, every movement deliberate and grounding, like he wanted to memorise the feel of you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his hands shift, lifting your shirt slightly as his fingertips grazed the small of your back. A quiet hum escaped you, your body leaning into his instinctively. It wasn’t just the kiss or the touch—it was everything he brought with him. The warmth, the steadiness, the reminder that you weren’t in this alone.

You pulled back slightly, your breaths coming in shallow bursts, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the moment—an ache you couldn’t quite bury. “It’s been…” you whispered, your voice catching. “it’s been so hard.”

The confession hung in the air between you, raw and unguarded. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, steadying you as his eyes searched yours.

“I hate seeing you in this state,” he murmured, his brow furrowing. “You’re running yourself into the ground, baby.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability of his words making it harder to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m okay,” you said softly, though even you could hear the uncertainty in your voice. “I just—”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he interrupted gently, his hands tightening on your waist. “Not here. Not now.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you felt the dam of emotions you’d been holding back for weeks begin to crack. His gaze was steady, his hands grounding you, as if silently telling you it was okay to let go.

“I’ve been trying,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “Trying to keep it all together. For the fans, for the team, for everyone. But it’s… it’s so much, Austin.”

His brows furrowed, and his thumbs continued their slow, soothing circles on your skin. “I know it is,” he said softly. “And I know how much you give. But you don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

Tears spilled over before you could stop them, and you turned your head slightly, embarrassed. But he was having none of it. He tilted your chin back toward him, his touch gentle but firm, his eyes locking on yours.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice a mix of tenderness and quiet strength. “You’re allowed to feel this. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Your shoulders sagged under the weight of his words, the truth of them unraveling something deep inside you. “I just don’t want to let anyone down,” you confessed, the tears flowing freely now. “I worked so hard for this, and I love it, I do, but it’s—”

“It’s overwhelming,” he finished for you, his voice breaking slightly as if the thought of you struggling hurt him too. “And it’s okay to admit that, baby. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he held you tightly, his chin resting on top of your head. His warmth and steady presence made you feel safe, like you could let go without falling apart completely.

For a while, neither of you spoke. He just held you, letting you cry into his chest until the tears slowed and your breathing steadied. When you finally pulled back, his shirt was damp from your tears, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears.

“Better?” he asked softly.

You nodded, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “A little.”

“Good,” he said, his voice lightening just enough to make you feel like you could breathe again. “Because I didn’t come all this way just to make you cry. I came to remind you how incredible you are.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking through the heaviness in your chest. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

He grinned, his hand dropping to your waist as he pulled you closer again. “It’s a talent.”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, you felt the weight on your chest ease, the tension in your body unraveling under his touch. As his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, you leaned into him, closing your eyes and letting the comfort of his presence settle over you like a blanket.

“You’re not alone in this,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m here. Always.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

The next morning, the soft hum of traffic outside the hotel window pulled you from sleep. For the first time in weeks, you felt a kind of stillness in your chest—a reprieve from the constant hum of exhaustion and worry. The bed was warm, and Austin’s arm was draped over your waist, anchoring you in place. His presence was tangible, calming, and you weren’t ready to let it go just yet.

His breath stirred against the back of your neck as he shifted slightly. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice gravelly from sleep.

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing against his as you closed your eyes again. “Morning.”

He tightened his hold on you, his lips grazing your neck. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” you admitted, the weight on your shoulders feeling lighter. “Because of you.”

He chuckled softly. “Good. That’s the plan.”

Having Austin with you changed everything. He wasn’t just there—he was present, quietly weaving himself into the rhythm of your days. When your schedule had you rushing from interviews to soundchecks, he was the one sneaking a granola bar into your hand or gently reminding you to drink water. At night, when the adrenaline of the day wouldn’t let you rest, he’d strum his guitar softly in the corner, humming a melody you couldn’t help but fall asleep to.

“You’re worse than my tour manager,” you teased one afternoon as he handed you a bowl of something that smelled suspiciously healthy.

He smirked, settling into the chair across from you. “Your tour manager doesn’t love you the way I do.”

That shut you up, the sincerity of his words settling over you like a blanket. You took a bite, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

His presence extended beyond just you, too. The crew had started joking about how he was the unofficial “morale officer” of the tour. When you caught him helping one of the techs carry equipment after soundcheck, you shook your head in disbelief.

“You know you’re not getting paid for this, right?” you teased as he walked toward you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

He shrugged, his grin lazy. “You think I flew across the country to sit in a hotel room? Besides, I like being part of the team.”

That was Austin—always willing to pitch in, always trying to make things better for the people around him. It was just one of the reasons you loved him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a day off. No interviews, no sound checks, no schedule meticulously planned down to the minute. Just a stretch of hours that were completely yours. It felt almost foreign after weeks of constant motion, but Austin seemed determined to make the most of it.

He’d woken you up with a soft kiss and a whispered plan to escape the confines of the hotel. By late morning, you found yourself tucked into the passenger seat of a rented car, the windows down and the warm breeze tangling your hair as Austin drove with an easy confidence.

He drove with one hand loosely gripping the wheel, the other resting on your bare thigh. Your leg pressed lightly against his, the closeness a quiet comfort as the road stretched ahead of you. Your hand rested over his, your fingers tracing along the veins on the back of his hand absentmindedly. His thumb moved in slow circles against your skin, each gentle stroke grounding you in the moment. The warmth of his palm seeped into you, and every squeeze of his fingers felt like a silent promise. You leaned further into him, your knee brushing against his, the casual intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like the summer breeze filtering through the open windows.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, glancing over at him.

He smirked, his eyes flicking to you briefly. “You’ll see.”

The radio played softly in the background, some mellow tune that perfectly matched the easy rhythm of the day. You turned, leaning your head back against the seat and watching the trees blur past. His hand tightened slightly on your thigh, the small gesture enough to send your pulse skipping. You glanced over again, catching the way his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“What?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Nothing,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a grin. “You just look... peaceful.”

You smiled, your hand still covering his where it rested on your leg. “That’s because I am.”

The destination turned out to be a quiet little town just outside the city, its main street lined with charming shops and cafés that felt a world away from the arenas and hotels you’d been living in. Austin parked the car and took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he led you down the cobblestone sidewalk.

The day unfolded slowly, deliberately. There was no rush, no pressure to be anywhere or do anything in particular. You wandered into a quirky bookstore, where Austin immediately made a beeline for the history section while you lingered near the music biographies. He held up a book with an absurdly long title and read it aloud in a dramatic voice, making you laugh so hard you nearly knocked over a stack of paperbacks.

Afterward, he insisted on buying you an ice cream cone from a little stand on the corner. You sat on a bench in the shade, the sounds of the town’s quiet bustle around you, as he stole bites of your mint chocolate chip with a grin that made your heart flutter.

“This is nice,” you said softly, leaning back against the bench and letting the sunlight filter through the leaves above. “I almost forgot what it’s like to just… slow down.”

He reached over, brushing his fingers against yours. “That’s why we’re here. You deserve a break, baby.”

You smiled, your chest tightening with gratitude. “Thank you for this. For being here.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, his voice low and earnest. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

In the afternoon, you found yourselves wandering down a quiet trail near the edge of town, the sounds of nature replacing the usual hum of city life. The path wound its way to a small lake surrounded by trees, their branches forming a canopy that dappled the ground with patches of sunlight. Austin stopped abruptly, pulling you to a halt with him.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

He grinned, his gaze darting to the water. “How do you feel about getting your feet wet?”

You raised a brow, already knowing where this was going. “Austin…”

Before you could protest, he was tugging you toward the edge of the lake, his enthusiasm contagious. You kicked off your shoes and followed him into the cool, clear water, the sensation oddly grounding after weeks of nonstop movement.

He splashed you lightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face when you gasped in mock indignation. “You did not just—”

“Oh, I did,” he said, his voice full of laughter.

It wasn’t long before you were splashing him back, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. By the time you finally retreated to the shore, your clothes damp and your feet muddy, your cheeks ached from smiling.

Austin flopped onto the grass beside you, his damp shirt clinging to his chest. “Worth it,” he said, his hair sticking up in unruly strands.

You leaned back on your hands, the sun warming your skin as you looked over at him. “Definitely worth it.”

He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as his gaze traveled over you. “You look happy,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your arm.

“I am,” you admitted, your voice quiet but steady.

His touch grew bolder, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, then tracing the curve of your neck. You shivered under his touch, your heart skipping a beat as he leaned closer.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and full of heat.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a kiss that started slow and gentle but quickly deepened. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he shifted, his body pressing against yours. The warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the heat building between you, his touch igniting something that had been simmering all day.

Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging slightly as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck. He growled softly against your skin, the sound sending a rush of need through you.

Before you could think, you pushed him back gently, his eyes widening slightly in surprise as you straddled him. He fell back into the grass with a quiet laugh, his hands instinctively finding your hips. The look on his face shifted as you leaned over him, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was deeper, more urgent than before.

His hands roamed over your thighs, his touch setting your skin alight as you pressed your body closer to his. Your own hands slipped beneath his shirt, running over the hard lines of his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. The weight of his gaze, the heat of his hands, made the rest of the world blur into nothing.

“Austin,” you breathed against his lips, your voice filled with a mixture of need and desperation as his grip on your hips tightened.

He let out a low, quiet groan, his lips trailing along your jawline as his hands slid up your back, under the thin fabric of your shirt. His thumbs brushed against your sides, the deliberate movement sending shivers through you.

But just as the kiss deepened, his hands paused. He pulled back slightly, his chest heaving as he met your gaze, his lips curling into a soft smile. “We’re in public,” he murmured, his voice a mix of heat and restraint, though his eyes were still dark with want.

You blinked, the words grounding you back into reality. Glancing around, the quiet isolation of the lakeside suddenly felt far less private than it had moments ago. You let out a soft laugh, burying your face in his shoulder to hide the flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Right,” you mumbled, your breath warm against his skin. “I got a little carried away.”

His hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he kissed your temple. “Trust me, I’m not complaining,” he said, his tone playful but still thick with desire. “But I’d rather not have an audience.”

You laughed again, sitting up slightly but still staying close, his hands lingering on your hips as he watched you. The smile on his face was soft now, the heat tempered by a warmth that made your heart swell.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you murmured, “Then you’d better get me home before I do something really scandalous.”

Austin's grin widened, his hands tightening on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “Home it is,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. He trailed off, his eyes flickering over your face with a heat that made your pulse quicken. “But don’t think for a second I’m keeping my hands to myself when we get there.”

You bit your lip, your heart racing as his words settled over you, thick with promise. Sliding off his lap, you smoothed your shirt, the warm flush on your skin still lingering from the intensity of the moment. He stood up a moment later, and the two of you slipped your shoes back on.

The walk back to the car was quieter but no less charged. His hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours as he gave it a squeeze. Every touch, every glance he cast your way, was electric, leaving your nerves alight with anticipation.

When you reached the car, he opened the door for you, his palm grazing the small of your back as you climbed inside. Settling into the driver’s seat, he shot you a sly grin before starting the engine, his hand immediately finding its place on your thigh as he drove.

The ride back to the hotel was filled with a teasing tension that had your stomach fluttering. His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, his touch steady but deliberate, and every so often, his eyes flicked to you, his smirk growing wider at the flush that deepened on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but reach out, your hand resting over his as your thumb mimicked the same soothing circles, the quiet intimacy between you making the air in the car feel charged.

By the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot, your heart was hammering against your ribs. He parked quickly, his movements efficient yet somehow still languid, the kind of calm control that only made you more eager. As he cut the engine, he turned to you, his gaze sweeping over your face like he couldn’t decide where to look first.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, his voice thick with restrained urgency.

The walk through the hotel lobby felt like a blur. He kept a firm but gentle grip on your hand, his strides purposeful, and you matched his pace, your breaths quickening with every step closer to your room. By the time the door clicked shut behind you, the tension finally snapped.

Before you could even turn, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you gently against the door. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was hungry, impatient, the soft restraint he’d held onto all day completely unraveling.

Austin’s hands were on you, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency that sent your head spinning. He pressed you back against the door, his body flush against yours, his warmth and the sheer force of his presence stealing your breath.

Your hands instinctively reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, but before you could pull him even closer, his hand came up to capture both of yours, pressing them above your head. The slight roughness of the movement sent a shiver racing down your spine. His strength was overwhelming yet intoxicating, his grip firm but never harsh.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His free hand roamed down your side, sliding over the curve of your hip to the bare skin just beneath the hem of your shorts. His fingertips grazed your thigh, teasing, as you arched into him, desperate for more.

A quiet whimper escaped your lips as you twisted slightly in his hold, trying to press closer, but he held you in place, his control unyielding. The weight of him against you, the way he commanded every part of the moment, left you dizzy with need.

His lips trailed down your jaw to the curve of your neck, each kiss a brand against your heated skin. The hand on your thigh slipped higher, his thumb brushing against the inside, igniting a trail of fire in its wake. “Austin,” you whispered, the word barely audible, more plea than name.

He released your hands suddenly, his arm looping under your legs as he pulled you up against him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instinctively, your legs circling his waist as he carried you from the door. His lips found yours again, his kiss urgent and consuming, as he moved toward the bed, every step steady despite the tension radiating through both of you.

When he reached the edge, he laid you down with care, his body following yours as he braced himself above you. His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it higher, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist. His lips left yours, but only to trail downward, pressing heated kisses to the curve of your stomach, each touch urgent and full of need.

He moved with a singular focus, his mouth following the hem of your shirt as he pushed it higher, kissing and nipping at the exposed skin. The rough scrape of his stubble against your stomach made you gasp, your back arching into him as his hands gripped your sides to hold you steady.

With a swift, fluid motion, he tugged the shirt higher, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ribs before he sat up enough to pull it over your head. The second it was gone, his gaze roamed over you, dark and searing, his breath coming fast as though he was barely holding himself together.

You didn’t wait—your hands flew to his shirt, tugging at it with urgency until he leaned back just long enough to yank it over his head. The sight of him, bare and flushed, only fueled the fire burning under your skin. Your hands found his shoulders, pulling him back down to you as your lips crashed together, the kiss hungry and wild, all restraint forgotten.

His hands roamed your body like he couldn’t get enough, sliding over your sides, your hips, and then lower, his fingers toying with the edge of your shorts. He broke the kiss, his lips moving down your neck, over your chest, and further still. His kisses were rougher now, his teeth grazing your skin, his tongue leaving trails of fire as he worked his way back down your body.

When his lips reached the waistband of your shorts, he paused, his hands already unfastening them as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. The heat in his gaze was enough to steal the air from your lungs, the raw need there matching your own as he finally moved lower, his mouth pressing against the sensitive skin of your hips. Every touch, every kiss, felt like he was pulling you apart piece by piece, leaving you breathless and craving more.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and finally he pulled them and your shorts the rest of the way down. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he worked his way upward, his lips and tongue leaving trails of fire against your skin.

Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping you as his mouth moved closer to where you wanted him most. His kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as though he was savouring every inch of you. His hands slid under your thighs, spreading you slightly, and the anticipation alone sent a shiver racing up your spine.

When his lips finally brushed against you, your whole body jolted, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. His tongue moved with precision, teasing and testing, until he found the rhythm that made your back arch and your breaths come in short, broken gasps.

He murmured something against you, his voice low and thick with want, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation as he continued his slow, torturous exploration. His grip on your thighs tightened as he drew you even closer, his mouth working you over with a hunger that made your head spin. Each flick of his tongue, every gentle scrape of his teeth, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building you up higher and higher.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you tugged him closer, your body instinctively moving against him. He groaned in response, the vibration sending a jolt through you that had your thighs trembling around him.

“God, yes...” you gasped, the words breaking on your lips like a plea.

He looked up at you briefly, his eyes blazing, before diving back in with renewed urgency, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. Your breaths turned ragged, your body tightening as the pressure inside you built to a breaking point.

The sound of your moans filled the room, unrestrained and raw, as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. When you finally fell, it was with a sharp cry, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumed you, wave after wave leaving you shaking and breathless.

He didn’t stop, not immediately. His movements slowed, his kisses gentler now, easing you through the aftershocks until you were left trembling and spent. When he finally moved up your body, his lips brushed yours in a kiss that was soft and almost reverent, his weight settling comfortably against you as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you felt him, hard and straining against his jeans, pressing into you with an urgency that reignited the fire simmering just beneath the surface. A soft gasp escaped you as your hips instinctively arched into his, the friction sending a fresh wave of heat spiralling through you. His breath hitched, a low, ragged sound escaping him as his forehead dropped to yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands slipped between you, reaching for the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly in your haste. He groaned softly, his head tilting back as he shifted to give you room. The sound alone sent a rush of desire pooling low in your stomach, and the feel of his muscles tensing under your touch only spurred you on.

When you finally freed him from the constricting fabric, he moved quickly, kicking the jeans off the rest of the way and leaving them in a heap on the floor. The sudden closeness, the feel of his bare skin against yours, made you dizzy with want.

His lips crashed against yours again, the kiss deeper, hungrier now. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed you into the mattress, his body aligning perfectly with yours. The heat of him, skin to skin, was almost too much, and yet it wasn’t enough.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver racing through you. Without a word, his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting one leg and guiding it over his shoulder. The shift made your breath hitch, the position sending a wave of anticipation coursing through you as his lips brushed the inside of your knee.

His gaze stayed locked on yours as he kissed his way up your leg, his touch deliberate and teasing. Your heart pounded, your body trembling beneath him, as he brought your other leg up over his shoulder. His hands settled on either side of you, as he leaned forward, his body pressing into yours.

The sensation of him filling you in this position was overwhelming, the depth and intensity stealing the air from your lungs. Your head tipped back against the mattress, your hands gripping the sheets as he moved, slowly at first, every motion deliberate and precise. The angle sent shocks of pleasure radiating through you, your body arching instinctively to meet him.

He leaned forward, the muscles in his arms flexing as he braced himself above you, the movement pressing you further into the mattress. The weight of him, the way his body fit perfectly against yours, was almost too much to bear, and yet you craved more.

Your hands instinctively reached for him, finding his forearms and gripping tightly, the muscles there flexing under your touch as he held himself over you. His lips dipped to yours, capturing them in a kiss that was hot and urgent, muffling the soft sounds spilling from your lips.

As his pace quickened, the pressure built steadily, your legs tensing against his shoulders, your fingers curling tighter around his arms. The angle amplified every movement, sending waves of heat radiating through you, your body helpless against the tide of sensations he was pulling from you.

The sounds escaping your lips were soft and breathless, matching the rhythm of his movements as he drove you higher and higher. His breaths were ragged, his groans low and guttural, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

When your release hit, it was like a floodgate opening, the sensation so powerful it left you gasping, your entire body trembling as it crashed over you. He didn’t stop, his movements carrying you through every wave of pleasure, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was desperate and consuming.

Moments later, his pace stuttered, his grip tightening as his head tipped back, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he followed you over the edge. The intensity of it left him shaking, his body pressing into yours as he came undone.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room your heavy, uneven breaths. He carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders, his hands brushing along your thighs as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Then he shifted, settling beside you and pulling you close, his arm draping over your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The quiet that followed was full of warmth, connection, and a sense of belonging that made everything else fade away. You didn’t need words; his touch and presence said everything you needed to hear.

The warmth of Austin's body pressed against your back and the quiet stillness of the room were the first things you noticed as you stirred awake. The curtains were still drawn, the soft light of morning barely peeking through the edges. You blinked sleepily, stretching against the sheets as the events of the day before slowly came back to you.

A strong arm curled around your waist, anchoring you, and the familiar warmth sent a quiet flutter through your chest. You shifted slightly, and his hold tightened instinctively. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you murmured, your voice soft as you turned to face him. His hair was a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and yet he looked unfairly perfect.

He smiled lazily, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I could stay here forever,” you admitted, your voice muffled against the pillow.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you softly. “I’d let you, but I think your team might have something to say about it.”

You groaned, the thought of schedules and meetings already threatening to drag you out of the cocoon of warmth you’d built with him. “Don’t remind me.”

His hand brushed up and down your side in soothing strokes. “Let’s not think about any of that yet,” he murmured. “Just stay here with me a little longer.”

And for a while, you did. The world outside could wait.

The quiet peace of the morning eventually gave way to reality. Austin sat on the edge of the bed, his phone in hand, as you pulled on one of his shirts, letting it fall loosely over your legs. His expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he read the message on his screen.

“What is it?” you asked, stepping closer.

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before meeting your gaze. “It’s my manager. They’ve confirmed my next project, and I need to be back in LA next week.”

The weight of his words settled over the room like a cloud. You’d known this was coming—his career was as demanding as yours, if not more so. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. “That’s soon.”

He reached out, his hands finding your hips as he pulled you to stand between his knees. “I hate leaving you,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I wish I could stay longer, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “I know. I just… I’m going to miss you.”

He rested his forehead against your stomach, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. “I’ll miss you too. But we’ve still got time, and I plan to make the most of it.”

Glastonbury. The word alone was enough to make your chest tighten, both with exhilaration and nerves. Headlining the Pyramid Stage was the kind of milestone artists dreamt of their whole lives. It wasn’t just a show—it was a statement, a moment that cemented your place in history.

The days leading up to the performance were a whirlwind of preparation. But it wasn’t the usual grind of endless rehearsals or meticulous sound checks—it was something more. Each moment felt charged, as if the very air around you knew the weight of what was coming. Your band was buzzing with excitement, the crew double-checking every detail, ensuring everything was perfect.

Austin had stayed by your side through it all. He blended seamlessly into the background when needed, offering quiet support during meetings and cheering you on during rehearsals. But it was in the quieter moments, away from the bustle, that he truly shone.

“Are you nervous?” he asked one evening, his voice low as the two of you sat on the grass near your trailer, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

“A little,” you admitted, your gaze fixed on the fiery hues of the sky. “It’s Glastonbury. It feels… massive.”

“Because it is,” he said simply. “But you’re ready. You’ve worked your ass off to get here. And tomorrow, you’re going to show everyone exactly why you’re headlining.”

His confidence in you was unwavering, and it settled something deep in your chest. You leaned into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

The morning of the show was a blur of activity. Your team bustled around you, going over every last detail: the setlist, your wardrobe, the press schedule. The Pyramid Stage loomed in the distance, a symbol of everything you’d worked toward.

Austin stayed close, his quiet presence a grounding force amidst the chaos. While your manager fretted over timing and logistics, he handed you a bottle of water and whispered something ridiculous in your ear, making you laugh when you needed it most.

The morning passed quickly, but the excitement truly hit as you and Austin wandered the festival grounds together. It felt surreal to be there—not as a fan, but as the headliner. The crowd was already building, and the energy in the air was electric.

Austin held your hand as the two of you wandered through the bustling crowds, the sun warm against your skin. The atmosphere was electric, a blend of laughter, music, and the scent of food stalls offering everything from wood-fired pizza to vegan curries.

“Where to first?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you with a crooked smile.

“Let’s just explore,” you said, your heart lighter than it had been in days.

For a few hours, you managed to forget the pressure. With Austin by your side, you blended into the crowd, stopping to watch a few sets from other bands and grabbing drinks from a vendor. He kept you grounded, his arm slung casually around your shoulders as the two of you laughed and joked like it was any other day.

At one point, Austin dragged you to the edge of a smaller stage, insisting you needed to see the up-and-coming indie band he’d discovered months ago.

“They’re incredible,” he said, his eyes lighting up as the band launched into their set. Watching him get lost in the music, his head bobbing along to the beat, made your chest ache with affection.

As the afternoon stretched on, you found yourselves back near the artist’s area. You were mid-sentence, laughing at one of Austin’s terrible jokes, when you spotted them—your mum, your siblings, your best friends, all standing there, waving and grinning like they’d just won the lottery.

Your breath caught. “What…?”

Austin’s hand on your back grounded you, his voice soft in your ear. “Surprise.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you turned to him. “You did this?”

He shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I knew how much you wanted them here. It’s a big day, and you deserve to have your people with you.”

You threw your arms around him, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.

He held you close for just a moment longer before nudging you toward your family. “Go say hi.”

You turned back toward your family, their excited grins making your heart swell. Your mum’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she clasped her hands over her mouth as if trying to contain the emotion bubbling inside her.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she finally managed, stepping forward to pull you into a tight hug. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Your throat tightened as you hugged her back, the familiar scent of her perfume grounding you in the moment. “I didn’t know you were coming,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “This means everything.”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” your older brother chimed in, stepping up with a wide grin. “It’s not every day our little rockstar headlines Glastonbury.”

Your best friend nudged him playfully. “Excuse me, our rockstar. I was her first fan, remember?”

The teasing broke through the emotional haze, drawing a laugh from you as you turned to hug each of them in turn. The joy and pride radiating from their faces were overwhelming, a reminder of the support system that had carried you to this moment.

Finally, your mum stepped back, her hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you over with a mixture of awe and love. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “We’re so proud of you.”

Austin’s hand found the small of your back again, a steadying presence as you blinked away tears. “I can’t believe you all came,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion as you turned back to your mum.

She smiled, her own eyes glassy. “It was Austin’s idea. He made sure everything was perfect.”

Your chest tightened as you glanced at Austin, his expression soft but steady. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice full of meaning.

His lips quirked into a small smile, his hand squeezing yours. “Anything for you,” he said quietly, his gaze lingering on yours before shifting back to your family, giving them a polite nod.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a whirlwind of hugs, laughter, and stories. Your mum fussed over you, your siblings teased you mercilessly, and your best friends gushed about how amazing the festival was. Having them there made everything feel real in a way that nothing else could.

The moment finally arrived. Standing backstage, you could hear the distant hum of the crowd, thousands upon thousands of people waiting for you. Your heart pounded in your chest as your team made their final checks, and Austin leaned in close, his hands on your shoulders as he searched your face. “You ready?”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Go show them why you’re here.”

Taking a deep breath, you stepped onto the stage, the roar of the crowd hitting you like a wave. The lights were blinding, the sea of faces stretching as far as the eye could see. But as you launched into the first song, everything else melted away. This was where you were meant to be.

Each song flowed into the next, the audience singing along, their energy lifting you higher with every beat.

When it came time for the acoustic section of the set, you stepped forward, your guitar slung over your shoulder. The crowd quieted, their anticipation palpable as you adjusted the mic.

“There’s a song I want to share tonight,” you began, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “It’s one I wrote a long time ago, in a tiny apartment with no idea if anyone would ever hear it. It’s about why I started, and why I keep going.”

The first chords of the demo song filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like the world stopped. The audience hushed almost instantly, the sheer intimacy of the moment drawing them in. The notes carried over the crowd like a gentle tide, and as you sang the first verse, you could feel the weight of the lyrics settle over everyone.

In the VIP section, your mum clasped her hands over her chest, her lips moving silently as if singing along. Your siblings leaned closer to each other, their faces a mixture of pride and quiet awe. And then there was Austin—his expression raw, his eyes fixed solely on you as if the entire world had narrowed to this moment.

The words came easily, each one laced with the emotion you’d poured into the song years ago. The melody wrapped around you, pulling you back to that tiny apartment, to the late nights spent dreaming of stages like this. As you reached the chorus, your voice steadied, confidence blooming in your chest as the crowd swayed gently, their phones lighting up the night like stars.

When the final note faded, a beat of silence hung in the air, the moment suspended in time. Then the cheers erupted, rolling over you in a wave so powerful it left you breathless. You glanced back at your bandmates, who wore matching grins, their energy feeding into your own.

But your eyes found Austin’s again, and the look he gave you—a mixture of pride, awe, and love—made your chest ache. He pressed a hand to his heart, mouthing, You did it.

The rest of the set was a blur of energy and emotion, each song building toward the explosive finale. As the last chord rang out, fireworks lit up the night sky, the crowd’s cheers reaching a fever pitch.

You stood at the edge of the stage, soaking it all in. This was your moment. Your dream.

Backstage was a flurry of hugs, congratulations, and champagne. Your family and friends surrounded you, their faces glowing with pride and excitement. They pulled you into hugs, their words tumbling over each other as they tried to express how incredible it had been.

Your younger sister was the first to break the silence as you walked off the stage, her voice cutting through the post-show chaos. “That. Was. INSANE!” she shouted, throwing her arms around you. “You were on fire out there!”

Your brother grinned, clapping you on the back. “I don’t think Mum’s stopped crying since the second song.”

“I’m just… overwhelmed,” your mum said, her voice trembling as she hugged you tightly. “You were phenomenal, darling. Every note, every word—you owned that stage.”

Even your best friend, who rarely got emotional about anything, looked teary-eyed as she handed you a bottle of water. “You didn’t just headline Glastonbury,” she said, her voice shaking with pride. “You owned Glastonbury.”

Their words filled the space in your chest that had felt so heavy for weeks, each one grounding you in a way you hadn’t realised you needed. When you turned to Austin, his quiet smile said everything your family couldn’t—that he saw not just the performer, but the person behind it all.

He waited until the chaos died down before pulling you aside. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he looked at you with a mix of awe and love.

“You were incredible,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life.”

Tears stung your eyes as you smiled. “Thank you. For everything.”

He shook his head. “This was all you, baby. I just got to watch.”

Leaning up, you kissed him, the world fading away for just a moment. When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

As the celebration began to wind down, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the stage, the crowd long gone but their energy still lingering in the air. The fireworks had faded, leaving the sky a quiet, inky blue. Austin sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the warmth of his presence grounding you.

“Crazy night, huh?” you said, your voice soft as you looked out over the empty field.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You turned to him, your smile faint but full of meaning. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just tonight—all of it.”

Austin’s expression softened, his hand finding yours. “You could’ve, but I’m glad I got to be here. Watching you… it’s like seeing someone touch the stars.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over you. “I just hope I can keep going,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This dream… it’s everything, but sometimes it feels like it’s too much.”

“You will,” he said firmly, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Because it’s who you are. And when it gets too heavy, you’ve got me. Always.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the quiet of the night wrapped around you. For the first time in weeks, the pressure didn’t feel so overwhelming. You weren’t alone in this—not on stage, not in life. And as the two of you sat there, the Pyramid Stage towering behind you, you realised that the dream wasn’t just about the music. It was about the people who made it worth chasing.

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