love lana del rey ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Your best friends—and the only family that feels like home. As the only girl in One Direction, you’ve carved out your place, part of the band but also something that holds the chaos together.

The concert’s just wrapped up, the energy still crackling in the air. Backstage is dim and quiet, a calm after the storm.

You drop your guitar onto the worn-out couch and sink into it, the post-show buzz still thrumming in your veins. The room smells faintly of sweat and smoke, the sounds of distant chatter fading into the background.

Harry strolls in first, curls wild, laughter bubbling out of him like it always does. Louis trails behind, tossing his jacket to the side, already grinning like he’s about to make trouble. Niall grabs his guitar and plops down next to you, strumming something soft and mindless, while Liam leans against the doorframe, his usual steady presence grounding the room.

Zayn’s the last to wander in, cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-lidded as he leans against the wall, exhaling slowly. The smoke curls up into the air, lazy and unbothered.

The boys talk amongst themselves, voices blending with the soft guitar melody and the muffled sounds from the hallway.

The night stretches on, easy and familiar. No one’s in a rush to leave, and there’s no need for words. Just you and the boys, in the glow of another unforgettable night, hanging out like you always do— after the noise, after the stage, this is the part that feels like home.

Harry grins at you from the dingy sofa. "You killed it tonight, mate." he muses. Zayn hums in agreement, putting out his cigarette from beneath his boot.