#amsterdam drift
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modmamono · 1 year ago
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"Despite Madrid Drive [From Mario Kart 8 Deluxe - Booster Course Pass/Tour] being another city track from Europe, is incredibly varied."
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This is out of context from someone I don't wanna name. And it's partially more about track layout. But if *that's* your complaint I think you're reaching for something to complain about to sound smart. Or missing the forest for the trees.
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The capitals of several European countries don't look similar to each other because they really don't.
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Maybe in the sense that they can look rural and have houses in them.
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But plop me (a European) in one of those cities and I immediately know where I am, maybe it'll take me a little longer if the local monuments aren't in sight, but I'll know soon enough by looks.
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This isn't about me defending the tracks, I don't really care about that. It's more about the association game.
Tour City Tracks -> Are similar -> Most are European -> Therefore most European Cities are the same.
And I know this is not everybody. But I have seen some people treat Europe in this game as if they are the Koopalings and therefore lazy. (I don't think the Koopalings are lazy either. They all got different body types and personalities.)
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Maybe I'm lucky because I am from one of these countries?
But even I know tracks like Sidney, Bangkok, Vancouver, etc. are as varied too. It's just they're all cut from the same cloth in terms of track design. THAT IS ALL.
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shahzaibfiaz123 · 3 months ago
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dutchjan · 7 months ago
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July 22, 2024
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lovemomhatepolice · 9 months ago
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a tiny accident(s) - lando norris
navigation taglist requests
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pairing: lando norris x fem! reader
warnings: nose injury, blood, established relationship, drinking alcohol (lando), suggestive talks, nothing more, just lando being stupidly drunk lover, English is my second language!
type: fluff (a little bit suggestive)
word count: 2k
summary: when you feel unwell, but let your boyfriend alone at a party in Amsterdam, you definitely don’t think about what the consequences might be…
This wasn't the first time you've had a headache this week. It definitely wasn't. You had been plagued by terrible migraines for a long time, caused by stress and long-term travel from country to country. It was hard to switch from the Chinese air to that of the Netherlands, and you still had to travel to Miami, Italy and back to Monaco. All this in the span of one month. But what can you do? You were well aware of this when you met him and entered into a relationship with Lando. Travel, travel and more travel.
And so it was today, too. You and Lando arrived moments earlier in Amsterdam after racing in China and immediately got an invitation to a party. Oh, you knew very well how much Lando wanted to go there, so from the beginning you both assumed you were going and would have a great time. Well, unfortunately, fate willed that just today, an hour before the party you were attacked by a severe migraine relapse. Of course Lando wanted to stay with you - he always offers to do so, but you didn't have the heart to stop him and not let him go to the party, especially since you knew very well what helps you best with such ailments. Silence - and it definitely wouldn't have been there if the boy had stayed with you.
It wasn't long after he left that you totally drifted off and fell asleep on your apartment bed, wrapped in every possible layer with a cold cloth on your head. It wasn't long until you were roused from your slumber by the sound of the phone, which, despite your fondest dreams, didn't stop ringing after one time. “Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath, averting your eyes. You took the wet cloth off your forehead and put it down on the nightstand so as not to get the bed wet. You stretched slightly and grabbed your phone, which was vibrating on the nightstand. You unplugged it from the charger and, without even checking who was calling, you put it to your ear, waiting for the voice of the caller. “Hello?” You heard on the other end. It didn't take you long to figure out who the person banging on your phone was. “[Y.N], do you, do you hear me?”
“Um, yeah, yeah. Lando, is something wrong?” You asked slightly worried, recognizing well that the boy was already quite drunk.
You glanced at watch, which hung on the wall in front of you, and could see that it had been more than four hours since he had left, and it was beginning to get dark outside.
“I think I broke my nose.” He said, and you heard him snort softly through his nose. “Baby, what?” You asked, lifting yourself up on your shoulders.
You freed yourself from the quilt that enveloped you and got up on your feet. Now you didn't feel the earlier headache at all, only worry about the boy, who was somewhere in the middle of the Netherlands, drunk and with a supposedly broken nose.
“I think I broke my nose. I smashed it against broken glass.” He exclaimed in pain, and you could already imagine his glazed eyes.
“And do you know where you are now?” You asked, grabbing his car keys and jacket, which you quickly put on and left the room.
“Not very, but I'd like to eat cookies.” He cried out, speaking to you in a pleading voice.
“Excuse me?” You asked, placing the phone on your shoulder and putting your ear to it.
“Cookies. Please,” he muttered, at which you took a deep breath.
“Okay, we'll buy cookies, but tell me where you are.” You replied, shaking your head as you entered the elevator and chose the lowest floor, where the garages were.
“No, we won't buy. We'll make them” He replied, and you could imagine the grimace on his face. “Okay, we'll make them. Will you give me someone on the phone to tell me where you are?” You asked, and didn't have to wait long for an answer.
A good friend of Lando's, who seemed much more sober than your boyfriend, spoke into the phone and gave you the right location to come to. You quickly got into his car and merged into Amsterdam's traffic. It wasn't the first time you had driven his car, but you were definitely not a fan of being a driver. Mostly it was Lando who drove you everywhere and you felt damn safe with him in those cars. On your own, however, you preferred your calmer and rather larger car, which stayed in Monaco.
The road to the place where the party ship Lando was on was not very long. Especially since the navigation guided you with avoiding all the traffic jams that were associated with King's Day. As soon as you got there, you parked the car in a safe place and got out, searching with your eyes for your injured boyfriend.
Minutes later, you couldn't stand to laugh when you saw Lando sitting on the curb, half of his face wrapped in some kind of bandage, and there was an unnecessary crowd around him, through which you quickly made your way.
“Baby!” He muttered, rising abruptly to his feet, which made him wobble and catch the brick wall behind him.
“Lando, sunshine, what happened to you?” You asked, giggling under your breath, because his condition was pretty funny after all.
“I broke my nose!” He replied, stamping his foot. “Well, look.”
You heard, and just a second later the boy was in front of you, grabbing you firmly around the waist and directing your hand to his bandage. You carefully touched the material and twisted it to the side, being careful not to injure the boy.
“Lando silly, you don't have a broken nose. You scared me.” You replied, covering back his nose, which was not broken at all, but only slightly cut.
“Oh, but you don't know how it hurts me!” He howled, hugging your body to his. “Your hair smells nice.”
You laughed under your breath and, after extricating yourself from his grasp, grabbed his hand and led him out of the crowd. After all, he wasn't as drunk as you thought, so the way to the car wasn't long. Worse was convincing him to sit in the seat and not move too much so you could buckle him in.
“Lando, damn it, can you stop squirming like that? You're not going to drive without a seat belt!” You said, slightly resigned, when once again the boy evaded your touch.
“I like the way your hands go down there…” He muttered, guiding your hands closer to his crotch.
“Idiot,” you muttered, giggling under your breath, to which he also giggled and finally let himself be clasped.
The road to the apartment was quite quiet. You were stuck in traffic for a while, because this time it was not possible to get around them so agile. Lando, meanwhile, turned on the music on his radio and the two of you played a song together.
"You know what?" You heard it out of his mouth, and you gently nodded your head, not taking your eyes off the road.
"I'm listening to you," you asked.
"You're pretty sweet," he said, giggling under his nose.
"Well, thank you?" You asked, smiling at yourself.
"But you're also fucking sexy, my God! If you're driving my car, it's in my pants." he said giggling under his nose again.
Whoever knew Lando knew his giggle. At every possible opportunity, Norris giggled like teenage girls who were excited or ashamed. And no matter how long it's been since you two met, Lando still blushed and giggled a lot whenever he got the chance. So he did it all the time.
Of course, the boy did not miss the topic of cookies, for which he had fought so hard before, so your journey to the mixing room was lengthened by a twenty-minute stop in the store, even though you needed a maximum of seven ingredients for your joint baking. Lando could not pass indifferently by the cookie decorations zone (although you did not need them at all) or by the liquor shelf (although he constantly assured that he did not drink anything).
And finally, after all the pain you went through together (or rather you went through), you reached the apartment you had rented for this stay. Both of you laughing, and Lando also, still covered in blood, you headed to the toilet to clean yourself up. There were some splashes of water and quick kisses, which now seemed quite difficult due to his wound.
You quickly went to the closet to take out some looser pants for the boy and returned to the toilet, where he was sitting on the bathtub, waiting for you to fix him better than they did on the ship.
“Oh, my poor little boy,” you muttered, laughing to yourself as you stood between his legs and grabbed some hydrogen peroxide from the medicine cabinet.
“It's not funny [Y/N]” he said, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him.
"Of course it is. How the hell could you smash your nose on a glass bottle?" You asked in disbelief, shaking your head, although after so many years with your boyfriend, this question should have been rather redundant.
"You're laughing at me. And I'm suffering here." He muttered, hissing under his breath when the wound was already quite disinfected and you put a small plaster on it so that he wouldn't touch it.
Sometimes he was worse than a child, but that was what you loved about him the most. You were both still young after all, why would you mature and become serious so quickly?
Soon you started making chocolate cookies. You knew very well that when Lando made something up, there was no way you could just ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. Oh no. Even if it was the middle of the night, you both would have to jump to your feet and run to the store to get something ready. Or suddenly get up and go out of town to watch the stars at night. That was Lando. And so were you. Damn stupid, head over heels in love with each other.
Baking with Lando was always fun. And baking cookies with Lando after midnight when he was drunk? Even funnier. You spilled the flour here, half a pack of cookie chocolates suddenly disappeared - Lando promised on his life that he didn't eat them - and somewhere in between you almost broke the blender. But in the end, you both looked with a smile at the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, maybe not perfect, but with some heart in them.
"I can't wait to try them!" the boy said excitedly as you took them out of the oven.
Without waiting for you, Lando put them on a plate and carried them to the table in the living room. Sam sat down on the couch and waited until you joined him.
"Lando, be careful, they're hot-" you started to say, but you were interrupted by the boy's loud hissing, which made you burst into laughter. "Oh my god, you're going to kill yourself."
You hugged him your body, and the boy quickly placed his head in the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses on it. He lifted his head up and stuck out his tongue at you, which he had burned himself on a moment earlier.
"Oh my god, did you burn yourself? Should I kiss you there?" You asked, laughing to yourself again at the boy's eager nod. "Oh, Lando..."
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A/N: quiet short, but I hope that for the first time you will like it and accept it well :) i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 200 followers! maybe I can get in by the end of the week?
please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)
lando nswf alphabet the latest one-shot about lando
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just1cefor4ll · 8 months ago
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hi! can u write about a drunk love confession lolll 😭🎀
Why’d you only call me when your high?
Joost Klein x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, bad grammar, mentions of alc0hol
summary: you and Joost have been friends for a few years now but ever since he got more recognized after his song ‘friesenjung’ came out you both became more distant. What will you do after he calls you for the first time in months, drunk?
A/N: this is um.. long .. enjoy!
。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ 。
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╰┈➤ ⋆。‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧。⋆
You were alone in the house, your parents went off to the neighbours to go grilling. You decided to not go since you were doing things with them the whole day and you just felt exhausted. You went to cook yourself a quick meal, just some toast with whatever on top. You looked at the time, 10:28PM. Joost was performing currently in Amsterdam, not that you knew anything about it. He was probably going to get a few drinks with friends after it like he usually did after his last concert of the season. He has probably long forgot about you, probably replacing you with someone else by now. Ever since he became more famous, you both stopped reaching out as often. There wasn’t any hate behind it, Joost wasn’t the type to cut people off because of fame which you loved about him and you missed him dearly you just.. drifted apart?
You went back up to your room, deciding to go to sleep early tonight, opening the window for some cool air to come into the room. The covers called your name, snuggling into them and getting comfortable. You fall asleep a few minutes later, the room was dark and the wind entered your room like an unwelcome guest, goosebumps appearing on your skin.
A buzzing noise wakes you up, your phone lighting up and blinding your tired eyes. You try and get up, body still a bit weak since you woke up about 5 seconds ago. You grab your phone and your heart skips a beat, the name “duck” appearing on your phone. It was a nickname you gave to Joost years ago. You were teens, trying to make up nicknames for each other and you just took the word dutch and turned it into duck. You watch it ring for a few seconds and then sigh, cursing a bit then pick it up. “Hello?” You say, your voice raspy and very tired sounding. “Hallo?” You hear the dutch accent you oh so loved come through the phone. “Hello, hello.” You turn around and lay on your stomach, waiting for him to speak. The noises in the background were loud and clear, loud music coming through the phone. “Is dat het meisje waar je het over had?” (Is that the girl you were talking about?) “ja ja ga nu..” (yea yea, go now.)
He shifted around before he spoke again. “Sorry, what’s up?” You raise a brow, was this some kind of phone call you get from your dad once a year? “Nothing much, why are you calling me?” He chuckles, voice deep and handsome like always. “Can I not call mijn liefde?” (my love) “What are you on about Joost? Are you drunk?” “No, no.” He slurs, making you scoff. “Yeah, yeah.” He was mumbling things in dutch you couldn’t understand; “Ik wil niemand anders dan jou.. mijn lief meisje.” (I want no one else but you.. my sweet girl.) “Fucking hell Joost.. where the hell are you? Is Apson with you?” He nods, which you barely heard but at least he gave you an answer. Apson would mostly stay sober, only having a few drinks so you decided to call him. He picked up, voice cheerful like always. You told him to take Joost home since he sounded like he had enough for the night and he kindly agreed. You thank him, ending the call with him before trying to go back to sleep.
3:07AM, another phone call wakes you up. “What the fuck is wrong with him..” You ask yourself before picking up. “Joost it’s 3AM can you go to sleep?” You demand and he just smiles. Oh yeah you were on face time now, great. You looked like a zombie compared to him, he looked more energetic than you did, his hair wet and it looked like he was shirtless. Probably just got out of the shower. “I wanted to see your stunning face schatje.” He says, laying down on his side, the side of his face resting against a pillow.
You sigh, watching him like a hawk. The light coming from his side of the phone blinded you, making you groan. “What do you want? I’m exhausted from your bullshit.” You say and he pouts; “Why are you so mean, hm? Do you not miss me?” He asks, smiling, his adorable, genuine smile. “Joost stop it.” He chuckled, moving around in his room when he suddenly turned his lights off, the only light that let you see his face was from his LEDs. He started mumbling things again, his voice lulling you to sleep but you fought back the urge to sleep. “Jij bent zo schitterend..” (you’re so stunning) “Joost I’m hanging up.” “No, no.. Blijf bij me.” (stay with me) “Ik wil je Y/N.” (I want you Y/N.) “Ik krijg je niet uit mijn hoofd.” (I can’t get you out of my head.) All of these things meant nothing to you. You didn’t speak dutch, maybe a few phrases and words but you weren’t fluent. You brushed off all of those phrases, when he said the one thing he taught you during your time as close friends. “Ik hou van jou lieverd.” (I love you sweetheart.)
You face turned bright red, quickly hanging up and flipping onto your back. Your eyes were wide eyed, staring at the dark ceiling above you. You internally scream, maybe he meant it in a friendly way? But the nickname?? It was weird. He was just drunk after all, it probably didn’t even mean anything. You try to fall asleep, tossing and turning before finally succeeding.
Morning came quicker than usual, making your stomach turn and face feel hot. You didn’t even dare open your phone, deciding to pack your things and head home to Amsterdam a little earlier than expected. You booked a flight, canceling the one you were supposed to take 3 days later then this one.
The minute you got home you opened the messages. Some were from last night and some were from a few minutes ago. You tried replying but no words were coming to mind, your fingers just hovering above the cold screen.
———————————————————
Duck🦆💙
Y/N
Y/N
Hello??
why did u hang up hm?
blijf bij me
please
ik krijg je niet uit mijn hoofd
sent 16 hours ago
————————— new messages —————————
Y/N
Im so sorry I woke u up yesterday
I was drunk haha
hope to see u soon, today Im performing in that club we used to go to as teens
ill look for u after
———————————————————
You contemplated whether to go or not. You wanted to see him, but another part of you didn’t. Why should you be the one running back to him? It made no sense to you, yet you went. It was like you were in a daze, getting ready, taking the train to the city he was performing in.. it all felt forced in a way. You got stopped by a few fans then made your way to the barrier. You bought a ticket last minute most people already in the club waiting for their idol to come up on stage. 15 minutes until it started, you felt disgusting. Sweaty fan girls who never heard of a shower were all around you, all you wanted to do was curl yourself into a ball and dissapear on the spot. It will be so akward talking after almost a year of barely knowing of each other’s pressence yet you still wanted to see him, hug him.. kiss him.
The concert went by fast, you and Joost making eye contact several times which made you even more anxious than you were before. You walked back stage, most of the security recognising you and letting you pass which surprised you. The halls felt endless, walking in front of his door you gently knocked almost instantly hearing footsteps. And there he was. He changed a lot. His hair was now longer, looking more mature but he was still there. Your Joost. “Weren’t you supposed to be the one looking for me?” He rubbed his neck, chuckling awkwardly before pulling you into the room. It looked like he was trying to find the right words to start which made you count down the dreadful seconds going by.
“Well, what I said yesterday was true. I don’t remember all of it but from the messages I said it was pretty obvious. I really do love you and I hate that you aren’t by my side. I hate that I can’t wake up with you in my arms. I miss you. I miss your smile, your energy, I miss hearing your thoughts, I miss everything about you. Liefje please I need you I can’t live without you.” He looked at you with those beautiful ocean blue eyes, looking desperate but it was obvious he truly meant every single word. You smile softly, cupping his cheeks. “I love you too. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you. It was like a part of my heart was taken away from me.” He kissed your forehead, smiling down at you. “I promise to never leave you. Never.” “Promise.”
。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ 。
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╰┈➤ ⋆。‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧。⋆
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nayedoll · 1 month ago
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Hold me down
joost klein x fem!reader
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rpf below, don’t read if you’re uncomfortable
description: following a christmas party at his house, joost and reader meet again after months of no contact, despite their failed attempts to overcome a complicated relationship.
warnings: 18+, nsfw, angst/smut, rpf
a/n: sort of based on the song ‘hold me down’ by daniel caesar, i #love this song so much ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆
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Your trembling hands rush to light the cigarette between your glossed lips, eager to feel the rush of the nicotine fill your lungs, to try and ease the gnawing anxiety in you. You inhale slowly, watching as the smoke drifts upward, becoming one with the snow that blankets the empty Amsterdam streets.
You hear laughter from inside the apartment, unmistakably your friends’ voices breaking the silence of the night; it’s a cheerful sound, but right now it only makes you feel like you want to leave, if you didn’t already.
You scold yourself for coming here, for thinking things would be different. Joost hadn’t reached out since your last argument, and you had moved on, or at least you thought you had. Realizing all these months of self-love, of pretending to heal, were nothing but a waste of time, a distraction before you once again found your way back to him; it makes you angry with yourself. Why is it so hard to get over someone you didn’t even date?
Things with Joost had been complicated since the beginning; neither of you ever quite knew what you wanted —or maybe you did and refused to see it— but you just couldn’t seem to let go, somehow always ending up in each other’s arms. Even after all the harsh words you’d exchanged, all the fights, all the jealous outbursts, all the blaming— it was hard to leave, for the both of you, because underneath everything, there was love; it had never been acknowledged, never been voiced, but you knew it was there, at least on your side.
But even with all the highs, you couldn’t ignore the lows. Sometime early in the year, after your last fight, you’d decided that you wouldn’t go back, that you needed time to yourself, seeing how toxic you were for each other. So you cut him off, avoiding him as much as possible, afraid that sooner or later, he’d pull you back to him, back to your old destructive ways.
And in the beginning, you were hopeful, that finally you’d manage to erase Joost from your life, forget about him and move on. But, of course, such strong feelings don’t go away that easily. And so, when your friends had told you about this gathering Joost was hosting, insisting that you should come along for once, you really couldn’t say no.
So here you were, having drunk too much for your own comfort, hiding away in the balcony, feeling a mixture of emotions.
You take another long drag of your cigarette, focusing your drunken gaze to the snowflakes falling down the sky. Your fingers, numb from the cold, press on your phone screen that lights up immediately. The time reads 2:03 A.M, and you almost gasp, realizing how badly you’ve lost track of time.
You throw your cigarette to the floor, pressing your shoe on it, before rushing inside.
Just as you’re at the door, someone else opens it first— Joost, of course. You slightly take a step back, half-lidded eyes shifting to look up at him.
“Oh,” Joost says, obviously not expecting to see you here, “Hey,”
“Hi,” You say back, your voice small.
“I thought you’d already left,”
“No- no, I was just smoking,” You explain as Joost takes a step closer, shutting the door behind him.
“Since when do you smoke so often?” He smiles, crossing his arms.
You let out a dry chuckle, “Since today, I guess,” Thinking about how many smoke breaks you’d taken, just to avoid being in the same room with Joost.
You stare at him wordlessly, not really knowing what to say. The way he eyes you, makes you become increasingly aware of yourself and the amount of alcohol in your system, your head spinning uncontrollably.
“Uh- Anyways, I should probably go.” You try to walk past him, but he stops you, getting in the way of the door.
“Wait,” He says softly, “How are you getting home?”
You glance up at him, confused. “I have a car,”
“You’re kidding right? Y/n, you reek of vodka,” Joost says firmly, taking a stern expression.
“I’ll be fine,” You sigh, hardly convincing yourself.
“No you won’t,”
“Yes, I will,” Once again, you attempt to leave but Joost puts his hand on your shoulder, making you look back at him.
“Y/n c’mon, don’t be like that,” He sounds more concerned than angry, like he truly cares for you and it catches you off guard. “I’m not letting you drive in the snow, while you’re drunk,”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” You ask in frustration.
He stays quiet for a moment, and it looks like he’s thinking about something. “Stay the night,”
You shake your head, hearing exactly what you feared he’d say. “Joost, I don’t think that’s a good id-,
“Please,” Joost cuts you off, his brows softening, “It just wouldn’t be right for me to leave you like this,”
You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, seeing him be so caring, for what feels like the first time in forever. You look behind you, towards the snow-covered streets, realizing that driving in this state is a no-go.
“Fine,” You reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
You follow him inside to the living room; your friends are long gone by this hour, only having left behind a pile of empty beer cans.
“I can just sleep here,” You tell Joost, not wanting to burden him any further.
“No, it’s fine. You can sleep in my room,” Joost says, already making his way inside.
You stay still thinking about it for a second; not like you haven’t been in there before, you tell yourself.
The floor creaks as you walk inside the room, and you immediately get hit with all the memories in here— all the late nights, the kissing, the laughing, as well as the fighting, the yelling, the crying. It’s bittersweet, looking back on it now.
You sit down on the bed, lazily made as always, as Joost hands you a blanket.
“Thanks,” You smile at him, “And sorry for burdening you,”
Joost’s brows knit together, as if he can’t understand what you’re saying. “Don’t say that. You’re never a burden,” He sits down on the bed beside you, lightly placing his hand on your thigh; it’s more of a reassuring gesture than it is sexual, but you still feel something jolt in you.
You purse your lips, a weird feeling coming through you; you wish he’d said that more during your relationship—if you can even call it that— when you needed to hear it, when you felt insecure, unable to fully trust him.
You look away, suddenly not sure what to do with the space between you. “I didn’t ask you earlier,” You start speaking, not really sure if you should, just longing for him to stay a little longer. “How have you been?”
“Good, I guess,” His voice is charged with uncertainty, like there’s more he wishes he could say— because really, Joost loves you, maybe even more than you love him. And yet, he’s never told you, he’s never dared to acknowledge it.
And maybe that was the problem. He didn’t mean to hurt you; he just didn’t know how to be better. He wishes he could be the kind of guy to offer you the things you deserve—stability, trust, a healthy fucking relationship—but then doubts creep in; his past, his fears, the pieces of himself he’s never quite put together, always seem to get in the way.
“And you?” He asks.
“Good,” You look away, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt. “Just… different,”
Joost’s lips form into a tight line, as he nods understandingly. “Yeah,”
“By the way,” He adds, causing you to glance at him again. “I’m sorry for how we ended things and all… I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,”
You almost wince at the remembrance of that night, your last fight. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ve said worse,”
You both laugh, trying to make light of the situation; it helps to soothe the tension, as you stare him, his smile with the dimples you love so much. The silence lingers, heavy with unspoken feelings.
You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re leaning in. Your lips meet his in a soft touch, kissing him slowly at first, as if to test the waters.
You pull away briefly, looking at him wordlessly, searching for a reaction.
Instead of speaking, Joost pulls you in again, this time kissing you harder, as his hand gently holds your cheek. It’s desperate and tender all at once, a mixture of regret, longing, and something deeper, something that never quite left, even in the worst moments.
Your body moves forward, overtaken by desire, as Joost’s hands on your waist guide you to sit on him. Right as you do that, you feel the rough denim of his jeans brush against your clit, the small wave of pleasure enough for you to moan into his mouth.
“Do that again,” Joost says softly in your ear, his kisses spreading to your jaw and neck; you do as you’re told, your body grinding against his thigh in small circles as Joost attempts to undo your bra, his big hands reaching over to your back, under your top.
“Let me do it,” You laugh, noticing the way he struggles, “So I guess you haven’t seen anyone else if you’re struggling this much,” You tease him, as you take off your bra and shirt altogether.
Joost grins, his eyes momentarily sweeping across your half-naked body. He firmly holds your waist, “No one’s as good as you,”
You smile at the praise, before Joost pulls you closer, pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You start to move against his leg again, this time only more upwards, until you’re full on sitting on top of him. You breathe sharply, trying to get whatever bit of pleasure you can from his clothed cock.
“Want me to take my pants off?” He asks, and you nod, desperate to feel more of him.
He gets up— visibly stimulated, considering how deep his breaths are— hands rushing to his belt. You bite your lip, impatient eyes shifting between his face and the metal clasp of his belt.
Finally, Joost unclasps the belt, his pants falling to the floor with a metal sound. He looks back at you, his gaze soft as he steps forward.
Again, he lowers his head, his lips catching yours in a hungry kiss; with his knee on the bed, stabilizing himself, he slowly pushes you backwards onto the cold covers, one of his hands wrapping itself around your tits in the meantime. You sigh in pleasure, allowing Joost to lean more forward as you instinctively open your legs. His lips move to your jaw, before he sparsely places open-mouthed kisses across your upper body.
You catch a glimpse of him as he presses a soft kiss on your stomach, his hands sliding down to your hips, over the satin fabric of your skirt.
“Please,” Is pretty much the only word you can muster, your voice laced with need.
Joost briefly looks up at you, pouting playfully— “Aw my baby’s desperate,”
“Shut up,” You lightly push your leg to hit him, quietly giggling to yourself.
Joost feigns pain, smiling widely “It’s okay. How can I ever say no to you anyways?” Reaching up to kiss you sloppily in the cheek.
As his lips once again wander off to your neck, you allow yourself to relax, stretching your neck to give him the access he needs.
You feel his hand go lower, his fingers toying with the waistband of your lace panties, before he lowers them down to your calves; if you weren’t so out of it, you’d be embarrassed at how quickly you’d grown wet, given all Joost has managed to do so far is just kiss you— But as his fingers start to rub your sensitive clit, that’s the last thing on your mind; you moan softly at each gentle use of his fingers, small waves of pleasure washing over you.
His teeth bite gently at your pulse point, as he picks up the pace of his fingers on your clit. Your breaths become shallow, pure bliss spreading throughout your body, signaling that your climax is near.
But Joost abruptly stops, now rubbing your clit in excruciatingly slow circles— once again, he’s playing with you, teasing you like he always fucking does in bed. He smirks against your neck, hearing you sigh in frustration.
“All good?” He asks, still maintaining the same slow speed.
“Are you serious?” You breathe out, attempting to, at the very least, sound a bit mad but you can’t take him seriously with the stupid grin he’s got on his face.
“What?” He knits his brows, feigning confusion.
You scoff, “Seriously Joost, you’re so mea-” Your words are cut off by a sharp moan as Joost picks up speed again, even going as far as to slide one finger in. “Mean.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about lief,” Again, he slows down.
“Joost!” You say in frustration, though you still giggle at his unserious tactics.
Joost’s free hand cups your face, caressing it with his thumb. “Alright, alright— het spijt me,”
This time he doesn’t tease you, instead now fully focusing on making you feel good; he pops two digits inside of you, the wet sound of your pussy and small moans being the only sounds in the quiet room. Your climax is unmistakably close, having you full-on whimpering now. As your legs start to tremble, you’re overcome with pleasure, Joost’s fingers insisting until the very last second before he stops.
“That’s it,” Joost affirms, getting your hair out of the way for you as you try to catch your breath.
He sits beside you, looking down at your face before he squishes it.
You chuckle, “What was that for,”
“You look pretty like that. Did you change your hair?” He asks softly, and you find his genuine curiosity cute.
“No, I don’t think so,”
He nods, “You good to keep going?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You’re quick to reply, eager to give back to him, make him feel as good as he did you.
You reach out your hand to touch his face, as Joost leans down to kiss you. You hand slides down his chest, until you palm his cock him over his boxers, getting an idea of just how hard he is.
“Can you-” You say, cutting the kiss, “Can you sit on the bed,”
Joost nods, leaning backwards, against the headboard; you crawl over to his side before positioning yourself on top of him, his hands immediately coming to rest on your hips.
“There we go,” He smiles up at you as you trace your fingers along his face, just admiring how pretty he looks from this angle. “You drive me fucking crazy,”
“Do you say this to every girl?” You joke, narrowing your eyes— or at least, you think you’re joking, using humor as a shield to hide your buried insecurities. Constantly doubting the possibility that he could have actual feelings towards you, that you’re not just another girl to him,
“What?” He looks at you in genuine confusion, not following the joke. He’s always hinted the insecurity in your words, and really, it frustrates him. Countless times has Joost tried to convince you otherwise, to make you trust him but in the end, it always ends in a fight. “Y/n, there’s not another girl,”
Yeah right. “Yeah I know. Anyways”
You raise yourself up slightly, moving forward until you’re directly over his cock; you take the base in your hands, aligning it with your entrance— and just like that, Joost drops the topic, like he’s done a million times before, not wanting to kill the mood.
You glance at him, making sure he’s ready, before sliding onto his cock; you gasp, the pads of Joost’s fingers pressing harder into your skin, the feeling of shared pleasure overtaking the hurt and guilt in both of you.
You move slowly at first, trying to feel every inch of him, get used to his size after so long. Joost pulls you closer by your waist, placing pecks all over your collarbones, where the necklace he once got you, jingles the more you pick up the pace.
“Fu-ck,” You whisper, “It feels sso good,”
His hand glides over your hair, comforting you. “I know,” He says quietly, breathing hot against your neck.
You let soft moans fall from your lips, grabbing his shoulder for support, your nails biting into his skin. He sucks in a breath, groping your tits as you feel his wet kisses litter your neck. You try to bounce faster on him, desperate to relieve the pressure between your hips, while still holding onto him, not wanting the moment to end. You gently pull him away from where he is, buried in your neck, just craving to see his face. His blue eyes gaze back at you, soft and brimming with vulnerability, something you’ve never seen before in him, not at a moment like this, at least.
You don’t speak, overwhelmed by all the emotions you’re experiencing. You wish you could scream at him for how he treated you, blaming him for the situation you’re in, even though you’re just as bad; but then again, looking at him now, staring into his eyes, you can’t shake the inescapable feeling that you’ll always love him, that one way or another, he’ll always hold a special place in your heart.
Instead, you lean forward, wrapping him in some sort of a hug, maybe because you’re growing tired, maybe because hugging him is all you need right now, hot tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.
Joost holds you tight, taking it upon himself to continue as he senses how increasingly tired you’re getting. His first thrust into you, coaxes you to outright gasp, placing both hands on the headboard now. You can hear Joost mutter a few incoherent words under his breath, pushing his cock into you at a speed that makes your brain go numb.
Your whimpers are like music to his ears, urging him to keep going as he wants nothing more than to make you feel good. It’s moments like this when he feels like you’re meant to be with each other, like this could really work, like he can finally tell you he loves you. But later in the night, the guilt always settles back in, reminding him of who he is, of who he can never be for you.
Joost groans, holding you so firmly that his hands are sure to leave marks on your skin.
“Are you close, baby,” He says through gritted teeth, briefly glancing at you, nestled into his neck.
“Yeah,” You say sharply, at the edge of crying with the amount of pleasure you’re feeling.
Joost nods, thrusting into you sloppily yet relentlessly. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the pleasure consume you as you feel his cock repeatedly on your sweet spot, the sensation mixed with everything else you’ve been feeling, causing tears to flow down your cheeks.
Almost simultaneously, Joost comes undone inside of you, his muttered curses and loud grunts sounding muffled against your ears.
He gives you one last kiss, just under your ear, as his movements come to a halt, his grasp on you loosening.
Exhausted, you barely even move with him still inside of you, as Joost fixes the hair that sticks to your skin. You close your eyes, breathing heavily, trying to cherish as little time as you have left before another argument begins—because the truth is, you both know what’s coming; the unresolved anger, the denial, the hurt, the disappointment; it won’t stay buried for long.
“Can I ask you something,” You ask, head rested on his chest, facing away from him.
You hear him hum, taking it as an answer to keep going,
“Did you… did you miss me at all?” Is all you can ask him, in need of some closure, to at least try and see if he feels any other emotion towards you except for lust.
Joost feels his chest hurt, hearing the pure vulnerability and doubt in your voice; “Of course I did,”
I love you, that’s what he wants to say; but he just can’t get the words out.
Your lips curve into a faint smile. You allow yourself to trust him for just a moment, believe that his words are true for once and feel the comfort that comes with that thought. His fingers gently run through your hair, and you let the silence between you linger.
For now, you can almost convince yourself that nothing is wrong, that everything is as it should be.
─────────── ୨ৎ ────────────
a/n: if this ain’t me 😂😂😂
anyways THANK YOU if you read this far!!!!!! this is honestly one of my fav things i’ve written and i hope u enjoyed it as much as i did <3 happy new years xx
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pinkcarnatixns · 11 months ago
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leah williamson | training wheels
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synopsis your plan for a romantic date goes downhill when your girlfriend admits she doesn't know how to ride a bike [2.1K] contents pouty! leah, slight injury, slightly suggestive
You really thought that your girlfriend would be blown away by your plans for a romantic date, but you apparently had made a quite significant miscalculation. 
Leah, constantly one to sweep you off your feet, had organized a sweet weekend getaway to Amsterdam for your six month anniversary. Since joining the club and hitting it off with the blonde, you hadn’t had much time to explore around Europe like you’d hoped when you first decided to make the move. With the way she hung onto your every word, Leah had clearly remembered this small detail and planned an extremely thoughtful getaway around it, surprising you with the plane tickets after training one day. 
You were nearly drunk on the amount of affection you felt for the girl, having been sufficiently pampered with the amount of plans she had made for the two of you. The day before, Leah had arranged a walking tour of the city which, wanting to stay in her own little bubble with you- was guided by the overexcited girl herself. Judging by the exasperated texts you received from a certain Dutch striker afterwards, it seemed that she had really gone all out to impress you, even if it meant she was never allowed to ask Viv a question again. If you hadn’t been completely gone for her by that point, you had arrived back to your beautiful hotel room just to see a new dress and heels laid out on your bed, before you were promptly shooed off to get ready. 
When you stepped out of the bathroom that had turned into your holding cell at her insistence, you were pleasantly surprised by the sight of your girlfriend in a suit you had picked out for her during one of your first ‘dates.’ She had been so nervous then, and desperate for an excuse to see you away from your teammates’ teasing remarks, using the excuse of an upcoming event to have you go shopping together. You never did get to see her in it, and when you had started dating, she claimed that it was too precious and had to be used for an incredibly important event. 
Apparently, she had deemed her surprise dinner date a special enough occasion, almost missing the reservation due to your appreciation of her attire. After hours of giggling over an expensive bottle of wine and being kindly told to wrap it up by staff, both your stomach and heart were completely full. Stumbling around in the streets hand-in-hand, entirely too dressed up while looking for ice cream with her jacket hugging your shoulders, you could have died happy.
So, after finally collapsing for the night and drifting on cloud nine, you decided you wanted to return the favor somewhat- to make her swoon for once. With a free day tomorrow, and her snoring softly in your ear with your head pillowed by her arm, you sneakily turned your phone brightness down and hatched your plan. 
In the morning, even though Leah took so much coaxing to get out of bed that your lips were sore, you had succeeded in getting her dressed and out the door. Not one to enjoy being out of the know, she had attempted many sneaky glances at your navigation app, receiving warning glances every time she tried to distract you from your mission. As you approached, you gave her a deceivingly sweet smile, immediately making her suspicious. “Love, you’re being quite cryptic and we’ve gotten pretty rural. Do I really treat you so badly you’ve taken me to the Dutch countryside to kill me?”
“Leah! Where’s your sense of adventure?” You pout at her with hands on your hips, determined to have your dream realized. “Now can you close your eyes please?”
“Oh, this is really the end for me now. Tell my mum I love her.” She sasses back at you, but does as you say anyhow, putting her hands over her eyes for emphasis. You mock her accent and pouty tone under your breath, but delicately guide her by the crook of her elbow, taking care that she doesn’t trip over anything. 
She lets you lead her, careful to keep her eyes shut to avoid upsetting you and whatever has gotten you so excited. You firmly tell her to stay where she is and reinforce that she needs to keep her eyes shut before she hears your steps walk off. She worries you’ve gone and left her abandoned there before she makes out your voice talking to someone quietly, curious at the clanging that follows the conversation. Relieved at the warmth of your hands returning to her, you slowly take her hands away from her eyes. “I’m going to count down! Stay here- ” She hears you scurry off and at your prompt, opens her eyes, letting them adjust to the sunny day. 
“Ta-da!!” Her eyes focus on you, before dragging over to what you’re gesturing excitedly to. Hand gestures highlighting two bikes- fuck. Her face goes completely red as you prattle on, “We’ll be so cute! And this path up here goes just past some pretty tulip fields, we can stop and have a picnic!” 
Silently and not quite meeting your gaze, she grabs one of the bikes by the handlebars and starts walking it past the stand where you had rented them- nodding in thanks to the old man running it. This leaves you completely confused, and you jog your bike over to where she’s walked off, “Is it horribly cheesy? Do you hate it? I’m sorry I just wanted to do something for you because-” 
Once out of range of the little bike stand, she whips around to face you and mumbles something under her breath, only making eye contact with her feet. You tilt your head questioningly, prompting her to try again, and she rushes out “‘m not good at riding bikes.”
As you take a second to actually process her fast words, it’s your turn to be embarrassed, “Leah! You’ve never told me you don’t know how to ride a bike? I dragged you all the way out here trying to be romantic!” 
She kicks around the gravel under her Birkenstocks, like a scolded kid pouting, “It’s embarrassing…” You sigh hard and start to speak before being cut off, “-And I know how to ride one I’m just not good at it!” 
You raise an eyebrow, and she immediately loses the nerve she had built up, averting her eyes again. Having been too determined to give up something you had been so excited for, you knock your kickstand and trudge over to her. “Well get on! We’re going to get your confidence up!” 
She realizes that you’re not giving up anytime soon, losing the battle of puppy-dog eyes that she initiated. You expect her to climb right onto the bike, but instead she also kicks her stand and steps away. You’re ready to protest, expecting that she’s ready to call it a day, but are surprised when she falls into a crouch in front of you. She hastily starts tucking the bottoms of her baggy jeans into her socks and glares up at your shaking form, trying to contain your laugh. “What! You really do want me to die, don’t you? What happened to safety first?”
You shoot her an apologetic glance, still letting some giggles escape as you ruffle her hair. “I’m very flattered that you care so much for some cheap H&M jeans I bought you love, but I think you’re safe. Now stop stalling!”
She shoots you a wary glance, but regardless stands and kicks her leg back over the bike, getting into position. “Now! The hardest part is just getting started and righting your balance so I’ll give you a little push!” 
Leaving her side to stand over the back wheel, you grab her hips to steady her as she places her foot on one of the pedals. She stiffens slightly and shoots you a wink over her shoulder at the new position, “Well miss cheeky! I bet this was your plan all along wasn’t it?”
At her teasing, you slightly lean her over to the side she isn’t resting on, crumbling her confidence and setting off her balance- her face paling immediately. “Hey! This is no way to treat someone who is greatly humoring you right now! We could’ve been having a grand old time back in our hotel room at this time!” 
“Sorry sorry! Just focus!” You giggle and feel your face get a bit hot at the implications of her words before continuing. “Okay you’re gonna sit up, look up-” She follows your words, and with a hard push from you, “And pedal!” 
She wobbles a bit, clearly panicking and forgetting to actually pedal, having to put her feet back down to stop herself from completely toppling over. Catching her breath, she exasperates. “This is horrible! Who does this for fun? Psychopaths?” 
You try terribly hard not to laugh at her, but she’s just so cute and frustrated that you can't help yourself, shooting her a big smile at her withering glance. You really do appreciate that she’s trying for you, and lean up to give her a big, exaggerated kiss on the cheek with some words of encouragement. “You really almost had it baby! Just have to breathe and pedal, momentum helps a lot! Now come on, one more time, I’ve got you.”
She nearly hops off, and you rush to praise her so that she keeps at it, “You really are so brave lovie! I nearly had to be shipped off to the hospital when I was being taught!” She puffs up a little at the praise, and so you give her a proper kiss and continue, “My fearless, beautiful girlfriend!-”
“Alright alright, one more time but that is it! I don’t like making a fool of myself.” She backs up a little bit, ready to start again and clearly psyching herself up in her head. This time you’re stationed next to her, holding her handlebar with one hand and the seat cushion with the other. She glares down at the bike like it’s personally out to get her as you count her off, kissing her on the cheek and propelling her forward with all your strength on one. 
She gets some really good speed at your push, but once again forgets she needs to do the rest, righting her error as you yell desperately, “Pedal!” 
She starts really getting the hang of it with minimal swerving, and you whoop excitedly as she actually manages to turn the bike around and head back towards you, complete with a smug smirk on her face as she passes you. 
However, her pride doesn’t last for long enough as her eyes are still glued to you and not on the rock in her way. Before you can warn her, she’s crashing to the ground and you rush over to her deflated form. Luckily, her football instincts had clearly kicked in and she had landed with no injuries, bar some scrapes on her face and hand. You know you’re really in for it at the familiar frown you receive as you help her up. 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The door chime indicating your exit from the small convenience store, you walk over to your poor girlfriend’s pathetic form, a cup of ice in one hand and box of plasters in the other. Sitting on the rough wood of the bench, she allows you to coo over her as you patch her up and hold ice over her thrumming wounds. 
You hold her hand in silence, laying your head on her shoulder as you sit side-by-side, watching the sun set over the beautiful tulip fields. You tear up a little bit, emotional at the view and that you were the cause of your girlfriend’s wounds, your plans slightly ruined. You nearly open your mouth to apologize again when she starts, “Thank you for today. I would’ve never thought to just sit outside and enjoy the view like this. And for believing in me, even if it was slightly misplaced.” She chuckles at the last part, placing her head on yours and nuzzling in slightly.  
You giggle at her sincere words, squeezing her hand in yours, reveling in the heat radiating off her accompanied by the comforting smell of her perfume. “All these flowers and you still have my favorite two lips in the world. Speaking of, I think I deserve a proper kiss after my act of courage today.”
You laugh at her horribly cheesy joke, but decide to indulge her anyway, pulling off her shoulder and cradling her poor wounded head in your hands as your lips meet.
a/n: thank u guys so much for the love on my last fic!! also terribly sorry if this doesn't make sense to my dutch friends </3 i am american
++ my reqs are open for more leah fics or for other woso girlies!
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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 2 years ago
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All I Wanted - Part 2
summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.
pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)
warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping
Part 1 Part 3
AN: Here it is! The Long awaited part two !!
Hope you enjoy this just as much as part one !!
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Price POV
This was not what they needed right now. When 141 first heard of a potential weapons trade for El Sin Nombre going down in Amsterdam, they couldn't wait to get on the field.
The suspense was killing them as they waited for the right moment. They knew at this point that trying to stop the deal would be more hassle than worth. So the plan of waiting for their food to come to them was a better solution.
Price stalled however when he saw her step out. No way this was who they were after. No one in a cartel would go about wearing over-pink clothes. It was stupid. Even more so when she started shooting back, with a pistol as well.
"Ghost, move in," the static of the radio crackled before a grumbled copy sounded back. Price watched as Ghost snuck up behind her, his feet silent as he kicked her knees in and knocked her out.
"Well done Ghosty," The Scotsman, Soap, cheered over the comms, making his way down to the evac truck they scheduled.
She sat in-between him and Ghost. "No way she's with Nombre," Gaz announced after a few minutes of silence, "She's a child!" A hum left Soap's throat. 
"That's why we integrate her, Nombre or not, we can still use her to our advantage," Price concluded, sending the group back into quiet before she awoke.
-
Gaz was right. She was a child, barely reaching 16. Guilt hung heavy in his heart as he thought back to her crying. Cheeks red with tears and eyes puffy. 
He dragged a hand down his face, muttering a 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at the discovery. Eyes flicked across the room, every single soldier in that room seemed to suffocate in the amount of tension.
With a heavy sigh, Price spoke again. "How about we make a deal?" her head shot up at the words, a mix of emotions slathered across her features. From here he could tell she was picking apart his words.
"You, stay with us and get a place to stay," Price's eyes drifted to his team behind her.
"But - you have to help us catch our guy," The words cemented in her brain, slowly nodding along to them. It couldn't be worse to what she was used to, can it? Worse case scenario, she runs away again.
"Okay," it was final, "But I need to get my gear first."
-
The drive was quiet. The radio played some random pop song that she muttered the lyrics too, fingers drumming on her thighs. 
The boys seemed glad she accepted the deal. Although it may be the fact she was a minor and by the sounds of it, partaking in crime activity. Of course, this wouldn't be as different but at least all expenses were paid for by the government.
The car lulled to a stop, pulling up in front of the hotel. The door slammed shut before Price even registered her unclicking her seat belt leaving him to race after her.
A smile graced her lips as she greeted the lady at the front desk, who then proceeded to side eye Price. He would too if he saw a teenager going up to a hotel room with a 40-something-year-old man.
The pair continued to be silent in each other's presence, even when her fingers slipped together pressing and pulling on each one as a sort of fidget. The lift dinged at the second floor, Price hot on her heels to the hotel room. She muttered the number continuously under her breath, 105. 
Number splayed in gold, she struggles to get the keycard from wherever she managed to store the thing, like seriously, where did she put things? 
The door pushed open to the room. The white linen sheets still a mess from when she woke up this morning. What caught his eye was the absurdly bright duffle bag that sat on the middle of the hardwood floors, from where he stood he could make out the top of a pink sniper. 
'Jesus the girl knew how to stick to a theme, that's for sure..'
Diligently she picked up the weapons she managed to slide into nooks and crannies. Picking up stray plushies along the way. Price tried to help, but whenever he tried to pick up a cuddly brown bear he'd get holes burnt unto his head. So he eventually dropped it, opting to stand near the door.
Before long she came up to him, bag over her shoulder and a determined look in her eyes. The trip back to reception was awkward. The same tense atmosphere seemed to follow like a shadow. The lift dinged again, the robotic voice announcing their arrival.
She marched over to the receptionist, explaining she was checking out early (even though there was still two weeks left) and saying if anyone needed it to let them have the room for free. The soft spoken words melted the workers heart, promising to do as told.
-
Your POV
Price was awkward. Maybe the commanding aura around him clashed with yours of innocence. But - you both knew yours was fake. To some extent at least.
"Why did you make a deal? - with me?" It was a genuine question. The want of appreciation and validation flooding through your veins.
His eyes flicked down to you, noticing you already looking him in the face. He huffed a laugh at it. Soft, warm. "Well - I'm not just going to toss a kid out on the street, am I?" It was the truth. Voice of honey and liquid gold washing over you. Clouding your brain.
"Thank you, Price."
-
"Doll, wake up for me yeah?" a hum fell past your lips as you stirred awake, rubbing your eyes.
"Are we back already?" voice hoarse and scratchy, a yawn coming from you mid sentence.
Price chuckled at you. 'Glad someone finds this amusing.' 
"C'mon love - I'll show you to your new room and you can have a kip in there, kay?" His voice was soft, almost like the words would make you shatter and crumble like glass. Though it worked, pushing you out of the passenger seat of the car and onto the (now) familiar gravel plaza. Pink mary janes dragged behind you, sleep seeping into your bones.
That was soon rushed out of you when Mohawk appeared in front of you and Price. "Hi lassie, names Sargent John Mactavish but Soap is fine!" He beamed, pearly whites flashing down as you appeared wide eyed at him, stunned at the sudden (and quite frankly, loud) appearance. He threw a hand over his shoulder, pointing at the other figure you completely missed, "And that's Gaz." It was the shorty of the group, giving you a sheepish wave and a sympathetic smile at the loud Scot.
Price placed a hand on your shoulder, a slight apology maybe? You found yourself staring up at him before speaking, "Uhm.. thank- thank you Soap-?" cursing yourself for stumbling over your words. The nicknames getting caught on your tongue at its strangeness. "What kind of name is 'Soap' anyways?" He laughed at that, full belly laughed. Sort of high like a bell, although pleasant.
"M' Afraid I can't tell ya that, confidential," It was spoken with a wicked grin plastered across his face. The smile contagious and making the pink bands of your braces show. "Why don't Gaz and I show you to your new room?" A glance to Price and his nudge of the head allowed you to accept the offer, Soap instantly grabbing the bag from off your shoulder and pulling you along, going on to ramble about his hometown in Scotland.
-
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kathlare · 2 months ago
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orange chaos
Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman
Summary: Amid the lively chaos of King’s Day in Amsterdam, Lando finds himself navigating the energetic festivities and an unexpected injury.
Wordcount: 1.3 k
Warnings: none
full masterlist // request over here!
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April 27th, 2024 - Amsterdam, Netherlands
The canals of Amsterdam were alive with color. Boats packed with people decked out in bright orange, the national color of the Netherlands, drifted lazily through the water, music blasting and drinks flowing. The atmosphere was electric. Lando leaned back against the railing of the boat, laughing at one of Martin’s outrageous stories about a disastrous set he’d played in Ibiza years ago. He wasn’t sure if it was the chaos of King’s Day or the several drinks he’d had, but he felt completely at ease.
—Mate, drink up!— Martin called out, passing him another glass. Lando grabbed it without hesitation, clinking it against Martin’s before taking a swig. That’s when it happened. The moment the glass hit his lips, he felt the sharp sting, followed by the unmistakable taste of copper.
—Shit!— Lando exclaimed, pulling the glass away to see the jagged crack along the rim. Blood began to drip from the bridge of his nose, the cut small but annoyingly precise. He swore under his breath as he pressed a napkin to it.
Martin doubled over laughing, his orange bucket hat slipping over his eyes. —Oh my God, mate! You’ve actually managed to injure yourself while drinking! That’s a new one.—
—Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,— Lando grumbled, tilting his head back slightly and holding the napkin against the cut. The orange of his hoodie only made the red more vivid.
Martin, ever the instigator, pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo. —This is gold. You look like some sort of bandaged gladiator,— he said between fits of laughter. —Amelie has to see this.—
—No, no, don’t...— Lando started, but it was too late. Martin was already video calling her.
Amelie’s face appeared on the screen, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. She was sitting in what looked like a trailer, her hair pulled back and a script in her lap. —What’s up, Marti... Oh my God, Lando, what the hell happened to you?—
Lando groaned. —Hi, Ames. Nice to see you too.—
Amelie leaned closer to the camera, squinting at him. —Is that... a bandage wrapped around your face? Did you get into a bar fight or something?—
—No!— Lando said, exasperated. —I cut my nose on a broken glass. And before you say anything, it wasn’t my fault.—
—Oh, sure,— Amelie teased, her laughter bubbling through the phone. —So the glass just... jumped at you? Classic.—
Martin, still laughing, chimed in. —I swear, Ames, it was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. He’s sitting there, trying to look cool, and bam! Broken glass, blood everywhere.—
—Thanks for the support, mate,— Lando said dryly, rolling his eyes.
Amelie was laughing so hard now that she had to set her script aside. —I wish I was there to see it,— she managed between giggles. —You’re such a disaster.—
—Well, I wish you were here too,— Lando said, his tone softening. —But, you know, not to laugh at me. To, like, enjoy the chaos. And maybe keep me from injuring myself.—
Amelie’s teasing smile shifted into something more affectionate. —You’d still find a way to hurt yourself, even with me there.—
—Probably,— Lando admitted with a grin. —But at least you’d kiss it better.—
—Bold assumption,— she shot back, though the playful glint in her eye betrayed her.
—Don’t act like you don’t like an excuse to baby me,— he said, leaning into the flirtation.
Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. —How’s the party? Besides the obvious injury.—
—Insane,— Lando said, glancing around at the packed boat. —You’d love it. Everyone’s in orange, the music’s loud, and the drinks are... well, apparently dangerous.—
—Sounds like my kind of chaos,— she said wistfully. —But instead, I’m stuck in Indianapolis, pretending to be in the Upside Down. Not quite the same vibe.—
—I’ll trade you,— Lando offered. —You can party with Martin, and I’ll fight some Demogorgons or whatever.—
Amelie smirked. —Tempting, but I think I’ll stick to my fake monsters. They’re probably less hazardous than your broken glass.—
—Fair,— Lando conceded. —But next year, you’re coming with me. No excuses.—
—It’s a deal,— she said, her voice softening again. —But only if you promise not to injure yourself next time.—
—No promises,— Lando said with a wink.
Martin, who had been quiet during their back-and-forth, finally interrupted. —You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?—
Amelie laughed. —That’s your fault for calling me, Garrix.—
—I regret it deeply,— Martin deadpanned, though his grin betrayed him.
—Alright, I’ll let you two get back to your boat shenanigans,— Amelie said, still smiling. —But, Lando, please try not to bleed out, okay?—
—I’ll do my best,— he said, flashing her a boyish grin.
—Bye, Amelie,— Martin said, waving dramatically at the screen.
—Bye, guys,— she said, blowing a kiss toward the camera before the call ended.
Lando stared at the phone for a moment after the call ended, a small, private smile on his lips. Martin clapped him on the back, jolting him back to the present. —Mate, you’re so whipped.—
—Shut up,— Lando said, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
The party raged on, but Lando’s thoughts kept drifting back to Amelie, her laughter still ringing in his ears. Even thousands of miles apart, she had a way of making everything better. Broken glass, bleeding nose, and all.
The party showed no signs of slowing down, and neither did Martin’s enthusiasm for filling Lando’s glass. The music thumped in time with the swaying boat, and the laughter of their group carried over the water like an anthem of carefree chaos. Lando had lost count of how many drinks he’d had; all he knew was that his mind felt light, his limbs loose, and his tongue dangerously unfiltered.
Martin was recounting yet another ridiculous tour story when he noticed Lando staring into his half-empty glass, the smile on his face softer than usual.
—You’re quiet,— Martin said, nudging him. —What’s going on in that drunk little head of yours?—
Lando laughed, the sound more wistful than amused. —Just thinking.—
—Dangerous,— Martin teased, taking another sip of his drink. —About what? Or, let me guess... Amelie.—
Lando’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, trying to mask it with a chuckle. —Shut up.—
Martin grinned, clearly onto something. —Oh, come on, mate. It’s written all over your face. You can’t stop smiling every time she’s mentioned, or when she calls, apparently. You’ve got it bad.—
Lando hesitated, his drunken inhibitions clashing with his usual instinct to play it cool. He swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the way it caught the light, before finally speaking. —I don’t know, man. It’s just… different with her.—
Martin’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t expecting Lando to actually open up. —Different how?—
Lando exhaled deeply, the alcohol loosening his tongue further. —She’s… she’s not like anyone else. She gets me, you know? Like, really gets me. I can be myself with her, completely. No filter, no walls. And she’s just... amazing. She’s funny, and smart, and talented, and so, so beautiful. And when she smiles, it’s like... I don’t know, like everything’s right with the world.—
Martin blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence. Then he smirked. —Mate, you’re not just whipped... you’re in love.—
The words hung in the air, heavier than the party atmosphere around them. Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the shimmering water. He downed the rest of his drink before answering, his voice quieter now. —Yeah. I think I am.—
Martin let out a low whistle, leaning back against the railing. —Well, shit. I didn’t think you’d actually admit it.—
Lando shrugged, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. —It’s the truth. And, honestly, it scares the hell out of me. Like, what if I mess it up? What if she doesn’t feel the same way?—
Martin shook his head, his expression surprisingly serious. —Lando, if you think she doesn’t feel the same, you’re blind. Did you not see the way she was looking at you earlier? She’s just as into you as you are into her.—
—You think so?— Lando asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.
—I know so,— Martin said firmly. —Now, the real question is, when are you gonna tell her?—
Lando laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. —I don’t know. It’s not exactly easy to drop the ‘I love you’ bomb on someone, you know?—
—Well, you’d better figure it out, mate,— Martin said, clinking his glass against Lando’s. —Because if you don’t, someone else might. And you’d be an idiot to let her go.—
Lando nodded, the weight of Martin’s words settling in his chest. He glanced at his phone, the thought of Amelie’s laughter and the way her eyes lit up when she teased him replaying in his mind. He didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was clear—he had to tell her. And soon.
For now, though, the night wasn’t over. The boat swayed as another wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, and Martin handed him another drink, grinning mischievously. —Come on, lover boy. Let’s make some more memories to regret tomorrow.—
Lando laughed, clinking his glass against Martin’s. —Cheers to that.— But even as he joined in the revelry, his thoughts never strayed far from Amelie.
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carlottawllms · 1 year ago
Text
Back With You
Mason Mount x Reader Fluff Word Count: 2.2K
This one for my blurbs was requested by my love @mountttmase and I absolutely loved writing it! Thank you for trusting me with it <3
Enjoy <3 And as always, feedback is very much appreciated.
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You hated being unable to attend games. Especially away games where you had to wait another night to have Mason back with you. It wasn’t so much the fact that you had to be without him – although you hated that too – but the knowledge that win or loss you couldn’t be there for him.
And this time it felt significantly worse. You’d been sick over the last week and a half, a nasty flu that hadn’t made the impression of going away soon had kept you tied to the bed and although you’d felt a lot better the moment everyone had left to follow the team, you hadn’t been well enough to make the long way down to the southern parts of England.
For a good 30 minutes you’d been mired in self-pity and shed some tears, but then you'd picked yourself up again, knowing Mason would scold you for crying over this. He’d reassured you hundreds of times that he wasn’t mad or disappointed or anything like it, but instead would be less worried about you if you just stayed in the warmth of your shared house.
You’d curled up on the sofa, a warm tea to cure your sore throat in your hands and a fluffy blanket wrapped around your body as you’d watched Mason playing one of the best games of his career. And with a goal and an assist in tonight’s brilliant game, he’d very much helped the team to reach the semi-finals.
At the beginning he’d had his difficulties to convince some fans of his abilities because not all of them were visible in stats, but you’d never been worried. It just took a bit of time to settle into a new team and environment, that was normal, and you’d known Mason fit into the system perfectly.
It made you incredibly proud to see him on the pitch, a bright smile on his face as he clapped the fans who’d made the journey to support them, and your heart threatened to burst in your chest when as Erik came by to hug your boyfriend.
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While waiting for his reply, you got up from the sofa and tidied up a little before going upstairs to get ready for bed. You were determined to stay up and wait for him as you knew they’d be on their way back straight after everyone had showered and you expected him back by around 2:30am, so staying up wasn’t that big of a deal, especially as you were still off sick for the whole week.  
But after brushing your teeth, putting on a sleep shirt and getting under the warm sheets of your bed, it didn’t take more than 20 minutes for the lingering flu to take a toll on you. You grew tired quickly, eyes heavy and constantly falling shut and not even your new Netflix obsession ‘New Amsterdam’ could keep you from drifting in and out of sleep.
When Mason entered your shared home, he tried to be extra quiet. Knowing you, you’d probably tried to stay awake on the sofa although he’d told you like ten times not to, but when he came into the living room, he found you’d apparently listened to him as all the lights were switched off and the sofa empty.  
He’d stopped counting the many times you’d fallen asleep on the comfortable, but not sleep-suitable sofa and carried you to bed. Of course, he didn’t mind as the thought of you trying to wait for him made his tummy all mushy, but he hated how you put yourself through the pain of sleeping on the sofa for a couple of hours.
Leaving his bag and everything he didn’t need downstairs to be put away for later that day, he jogged up the stairs as he couldn’t wait to see your face. He hadn’t been away for too long and the both of you were used to him being away from time to time, but that didn’t mean he liked it any better.
And this time leaving you had felt worse. You’d tried to convince him of the opposite, but you’d still been poorly the moment he’d had to leave two days ago and although you’d kill him if you knew, the thought of you being sick had kept sleep away from him. It was just a flu, but Mason was a worrier and this habit only got worse when it was about people he cared about deeply. And you were one of those people.
As he opened the door to your shared bedroom quietly and his gaze fell on the scene in front of him, his heart leaped in his chest.
You were sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side of the bed and face smushed into the pillow. The sheet pulled up to your nose prevented him from taking a better look at your face, but even from far away and you half-hidden in the pillow he could tell, that you looked better than when he’d left.
By the looks of it – the tv on the wall still playing your favourite series and the remote on top of the sheets – you’d tried to stay up and wait for him. Mason shook his head with a fond smile on his lips. You were unbelievable and he couldn’t believe he got to call you his.
He quickly turned the tv off and put the remote away before stripping himself down to his boxers and brushing his teeth as fast as he could. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to get into bed with you, but when he eventually snug under the covers, he didn’t dare to reach out and hold you properly in fear of waking you up. You looked a lot better than two days ago, but you still needed the sleep so a barely there kiss to your forehead had to do.  
But as if you’d sensed he was back, you shuffled in your sleep, searching for his warmth and proximity and Mason very carefully wrapped his arms around you. He felt your deep sigh as you snuggled into his chest, face very much pressed into the crook of his neck and with a kiss on top of your head, he closed his eyes.
“Sleep tight, I love you.”, he whispered before he was off to the land of dreams.
-
Your sleepy brain needed a moment to understand what was happening and why you were half on top of a naked upper body with a heavy arm across your waist holding you in place, but then it dawned on you.
Your favourite person was back home.
You stayed still for a while, simply enjoying the moment of being back in his embrace and surrounded by his familiar scent. It hadn’t been more than two days, but you’d missed him like crazy – the sickness having made you a bit more clingy and needy than you normally were – and after two nights of sleeping by yourself, being held by him again felt like heaven.
Allowing yourself to take him in whilst he was still slumbering peacefully, you pulled away a little, careful to avoid disturbing him and smiled.
This was the version of him you probably loved most. Not because he was asleep and couldn’t be a pain in your ass, but because this was the version only you got to see. You were the only one to share a bed with him and look at him when his hair was tousled, his lashes fanned over the tops of his freckled cheeks and when his lips were slightly parted.
Yesterday, he’d been this incredibly talented footballer, who’d scored and assisted to help his team through to the semis and right now he was just Mason. Nothing more, than a young man who meant the absolute world to you.  
Gently, you stroked the warm skin of his cheek with the back of your fingers and watched how his lips pulled into the tiniest smile in his sleep. He was yours and sometimes you couldn’t comprehend just how that was possible.
You knew you shouldn’t wake him up as he’d come back late, but you couldn’t wait any longer to tell him how proud you were and how happy to have him back and how much you loved him.
With your fingers, you traced the freckles on his cheeks and nose, right down to his lips where you followed the soft curve of his cupid’s bow and right when you were about to continue, you felt him shift a little. His brows furrowed as he wrinkled his nose, seemingly tickled by the gentle touch of your finger.
“Morning.”, you whispered as you buried your hand in his soft hair.
You probably should’ve given him a little more time but the pout on his face was too cute to hold back so you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. Mason was still half-asleep, but he just about managed to reciprocate the soft kiss.
“What a way to start the day.” His voice was a little raspy and full of sleep and he struggled a bit to get used to the brightness of the room, but it was all worth it when he was met with your beautiful face. “Morning.”
Your tummy flipped when his warm brown eyes met yours. He looked tired and you felt a little guilty for waking him up, but you’d missed him too much not to.
“You were staring at me. That’s creepy you know?”, he groaned, but you knew he didn’t mean it.
“Well, I can’t help it. You’re just a very pretty man, Mason Tony Mount.”, you grinned before you pressed another kiss to his lips. “And I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Mason was quick in pushing his hand beneath your shirt, warm fingers spreading over your skin as he caressed your back. “Very much.”
“You were so good yesterday. You were everywhere on that pitch, you fought so hard for the team and then you got to score that beautiful goal…Mase, I am so incredibly proud of you, you know?”
You cupped his jaw with your hand, thumb gently stroking right beneath his eye as you watched him blush.
“But I’m not just proud because of that game or that goal, Mase. So much has happened throughout the last months and I know it was difficult and painful and I know how much it has taken you to find the courage to choose what’s best for you in the chaos Chelsea created, but you’ve always stayed true to who you are. This kind, humble and loving person everyone knows and loves.”
Mason’s heart threatened to burst his ribcage from how it was thundering in his chest. He’d known you were proud as you kept telling him, but you’d never been this specific and until now he’d never realised just how much he’d needed to hear those words. To hear someone tell him that he was still the Mason he was before all the drama and the chaos, to hear someone tell him that nothing had really changed, although everything had.
To hear you out of all people tell him that because although it sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world after everything you’d done for him, he’d constantly carried this worry with him, the worry of having disappointed you.
“Thank you.”, he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak up. “I just…thank you.”
You could spot the vulnerability in his eyes, the pure and utter love shining in them and the relief of something bigger than you could ever imagine.
“I am so proud that I can call you mine, that I get to wear your name on my back and share all those beautiful memories with you and I hope you know that.”, you smiled. “Whenever I see you walking out on that pitch or giving an interview or when just your name is mentioned somewhere, I just want to scream it for the world to hear. I am so so proud of you, Mase and I love you so much.”
Mason had never been a man of big words, but at that moment he was too overwhelmed to say anything at all. So, he did what he did best: Showing his love with physical affection.
He wrapped his arms around you tightly, eyes firmly locked on yours until he closed them and brushed his lips against yours, kissing you gently and full of love and in a way that said more than words ever could.
“I love you, y/n. You’re everything I’ll ever need.”, he whispered against your lips. “I love you so much, thank you for always being by my side.”
And with that, he kissed you again. Sealing his unspoken promise of never leaving you.
—————
I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback so I can see what you liked and what I can improve on 🩷
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saythenametotheworld · 7 months ago
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Timeless | jww
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Pairing: SEVENTEEN Wonwoo x Reader
Notes: 2.5k words. Based on a writing prompt I saw today. here's some story written on a whim! Enjoy!
~
The sun shone brightly up the sky, bringing a comfortable warmth to the late Saturday morning at a park by the Han River. Wonwoo sat there, a timeless observer in a constantly changing world. He leaned back on the wooden bench, closing his eyes to the gentle hum of life around him. The soft breeze, the distant laughter of children, and the conversation of people around him that were reduced to soft murmurs in his ears all melded into a soothing symphony. But his thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back through the centuries to a love long past.
Wonwoo had stopped aging a long time ago, a quirk of fate that he had no idea how he came to possess but had left him a witness to the continuous march of time. He had seen the rise and fall of civilizations and empires, cities that crumbled and rebuilt, and the countless faces of people passing in and out of his life. He remembered the grandeur and the bustling markets of ancient Rome, the silent strength of the Great Wall as it snaked through the mountains between China and Mongolia, the rise of the Goryeo Dynasty, and its eventual transition to the Joseon Period.
Exactly how old is he now? He had lost count. Over time, it just didn’t matter anymore. One of his earliest memories was standing on the shores of a vast, uncharted ocean, the salty breeze whipping through his hair. He had been living his early life on an island with his kin and had no idea there was an entire world beyond the high seas. He had watched as explorers docked on the shores of his home and heard said explorers declare that a whole wide world was out there. Civilizations, society, and people. All of these were foreign to him. Surely, he must set out to see this massive world they spoke of, and he did exactly that.
Wonwoo had set sail into the unknown, his eyes alight with dreams of discovery. That was when he realized that he was no ordinary man. He was someone who had been gifted by the heavens with time—a limitless, continuous, endless amount of time.
In the years that followed, Wonwoo lived among these men, never given the chance to find his home again. He watched as men took to the seas, charting routes that allowed Wonwoo to explore the vastness of the Earth. He had walked through the newly founded streets of New Amsterdam, marveled at the opulence of Versailles, and witnessed the fiery birth of the industrial age. 
Wonwoo did everything and anything a man with unlimited time could do. He explored the world, unearthing and discovering its beauty and magnificence. He studied sciences, medicine, engineering, and even advancements in architecture and infrastructure. He dabbled with arts in its many forms. He made friends with some people who eventually passed but would be remembered as important figures in history. Sometimes he liked to think he had contributed to the progress of humanity, however little it may be.
And romance, well, despite not knowing exactly how to engage in genuine romantic pursuits, that didn’t stop him from indulging himself with people he found alluring—whoever they were, wherever they were from as long as he has taken a liking to them.
But among these myriad of memories, one stood out with aching clarity. You. 
You had been his heart's desire for heaven knows how long. Wonwoo had met you in a bustling marketplace, your eyes catching his from across the crowd. There had been an instant connection, a pull that neither of you could deny. You had spent days exploring the city together, hours lost in whispered conversations and shared dreams, and nights spent with passion and warmth.
He remembered the way your hair flowed freely with the breeze, your eyes that shone in the moonlight, the warmth of your hand in his, and the way your laughter had chased away the shadows of his loneliness. But time was a thief, and it had taken you from him, leaving only memories in its wake. Such was the life of an immortal. People will come and go, friends eventually pass, and the bond between lovers withers away like flowers in October. Although he had never experienced love the way he did with you, he tried to move on with his life knowing no power on Earth will ever bring you back. Or so he had thought.
Years later, he had been wandering through the streets of Paris when he saw you again, your face unchanged, your eyes just as bright. You did not know him—not at first—but the connection was still there, and it was as undeniable as ever.
“I know you,” Wonwoo had told you at the time.
You were surprised at first, frowning at the man with whom you unknowingly held hands when he offered to help you board your carriage. You had thought it was your coachman, but it was a stranger—an oddly familiar stranger, but still a stranger.
“You do?” you had told him, maintaining a dignified composure despite being intrigued by him. What was that slight ache tugging at your heartstrings at the sight of his smiling face? “Well, I do not know you so it would be best if you refrain from approaching me without warning, sir.”
“I see. I beg your pardon,” he replied, still smiling as if he was overjoyed to be in your presence. “I am Jeon Wonwoo. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
In that life, you fell in love once more. And like the first, your time together was fleeting, and you were gone once more. This time, Wonwoo was hopeful that you would find each other again.
This became your pattern. Several years after your death, you would reincarnate, always with the same face, the same smile, the same laughter. Fate would bring you back to Wonwoo every time, even when he wasn't looking for you. In the high society of England year 1750, you had been a debutante in search of a husband and found Wonwoo. In the streets of Tokyo, in 1821, you were a painter, your art capturing the essence of the love you shared.  In the serene hills of Tuscany,  you had been a writer, your words weaving your shared story into the fabric of time. In the roaring twenties of New York, you had been a singer, your voice a siren call that drew him to you.
Each time you were reborn, you and Wonwoo would meet as strangers, fall in love all over again, and then, inevitably, you would leave him.
“I’ll come find you,” he told you on your deathbed, sickness has caused your young body to wither away. It had always been this way. You meet Wonwoo, share a couple years with him, maybe a whole decade if you are lucky, and then some illness or accident takes you away.
“I love you, Wonu.”
“I know. I love you more than anything in this world.”
It was a cycle of joy and heartbreak, of fleeting moments to Wonwoo that felt like lifetimes for you. But he was content. He was happy and he finally had something he wanted to keep living for.
But then, suddenly, you stopped coming back. You just… didn’t. Wonwoo waited, searched, and hoped, but you did not return. The decades stretched into a century and even as the 2000s came, still, you were nowhere to be found. He scoured the corners of the earth, looking for any sign of you, but it was as if you had vanished from the cycle of reincarnation. Wonwoo had been complacent. He was too relaxed and got so comfortable that he forgot something like this could happen.
Desperation and longing became his constant companions. His endless life was lonely and devoid of meaning until he found love in you, and now, without you, it felt empty once more.
Still, Wonwoo did not dare give up. In his search for you, he discovered a new passion: music. He found solace in melodies and rhythms, and his talent quickly blossomed. He began composing and singing, pouring his soul into every note. His music resonated with people, and he became a renowned singer, his voice known across the world. While he enjoyed his craft, his fame also served another purpose. He hoped that by becoming a public figure, his face appearing on screens and stages everywhere, you would find your way back to him.
But as the years passed, his hopes began to wane. No one who came to him even remotely resembled you, not your face, not your smile, nothing. His frustration grew with each passing day, the relentless search taking its toll on his spirit. The world lauded his music, yet he remained haunted by an unfulfilled longing, his heart aching for the one person who made his endless life worth living. The world around him has changed so much, technology advancing, cultures shifting, but his heart remained trapped in the past—the time so long ago when you first saw each other. His heart stayed broken, yearning and mourning you that he had lost.
And today, Wonwoo opened his eyes only to realize that hours had passed since he sat in front of the Han River. This was your favorite spot in your last life. You made the best memories here together, and as such, this place has become the one place Wonwoo can go to if he misses you. As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, Wonwoo closed his eyes again, the weight of his sadness sat heavy on his heart. He did not notice the figure that had taken a seat beside him, nor the way they watched him with a gaze full of curiosity and recognition. It wasn't until the voice broke through his reverie that he was jolted back to the present.
“You're still thinking about me after all this time?”
Wonwoo's eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned to look at the speaker, his breath catching in his throat. There was no mistaking that voice. Even if it was over a hundred years ago, or two hundred, or four hundred years ago when he first heard you speak, Wonwoo would never forget that voice. And sure enough, it was you, unchanged by the years, as if you had stepped out of his memories and into the present.
“My love…” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief and hope. “My love. Is that you?”
You smiled the same radiant smile that had haunted his dreams. “These days, I think it’s cooler to call your lover Babe, or Bub or something short but sweet like that.”
He reached out, hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You were real, warm, and alive, and the floodgates of his emotions burst open.
You reached back to caress his face. “It’s been a while, Wonu.”
Slowly, unbeknownst to himself, Wonwoo’s tears rolled down his cheeks. With both hands, he held your cheeks, pulling you to sit next to him on the grass. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you!” he said, his voice breaking. 
You rolled your eyes, trying to appear aloof even as your own tears threatened to fall. “Silly. You knew you could never find me even if you tried. It is me who must go to you. Always. It doesn’t matter if I don’t recognize you, I will always be the one to find you.”
“But it has been too long. Too much time has passed without you.”
“Why? Did you get tired of waiting?” you asked, leaning affectionately in his hands. You feigned a sulky face. “Has your love faltered after waiting too long?”
“No,” he denied, a relieved smile finally showing on his lips. “I never stopped looking for you.”
“And I never stopped waiting for a chance to come and find you again,” you replied softly. “I've seen you, through the ages. Always so close, yet just out of reach.”
You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared history pressing down on you. Wonwoo’s eyes never left your face, not even for a second. If he could, he wouldn’t even blink in case you suddenly disappeared and he realized this was all just a dream. You let him stare at you as much as he wanted, enjoying his attention and feeling happy about being able to hold him again. The world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound by time and love.
Wonwoo thought back to the countless lives he had lived, the friends he had made and lost, the wars he had fought, and the empires he had seen rise and fall. Despite having everything, you had been the only one he wanted and loved, a beacon of hope and love that had kept him going. In his long life, he rarely prayed to the heavens who bestowed him the curse of immortality, but he prayed for you. He prayed they bring you back to him. If they really were up there, it seemed to Wonwoo that they had heard his earnest pleas. Or maybe not, but he still wanted to thank someone, whether it was god, fate, or the universe. Whichever it was, they had allowed him to reunite with his beloved once more.
He remembered a conversation with a philosopher in ancient Greece, who had spoken of the eternal nature of the soul. “Love transcends time,” the philosopher had said. “It is the one thing that endures, no matter the changes that come.”
Wonwoo had seen the truth of those words in the faces of lovers across the ages. He had seen it in the way a soldier clung to a locket, a token of his beloved back home. He had seen it in the eyes of a mother, cradling her newborn child. And now, he saw it in your eyes, as bright and full of love as they had been all those centuries ago.
“How is this possible?” he asked, still grappling with the reality of your presence.
“Honestly? I don't know,” you admitted. “But does it matter? We're here now, together.”
He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Please don’t let this be a wicked dream that I would wake up from eventually.”
You chuckled heartily, leaning closer to kiss his forehead. “It’s not, Won. It’s me.”
“It really is. It is you, my love,” he chimed, lifting your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips.
For the first time in centuries, he felt a sense of peace, a feeling of coming home. There was a certain sense of finality in this reunion. Wonwoo could not quite grasp what this meant, but it didn't matter—not now that you're finally sitting there with him after so long.
As the stars began to twinkle overhead, Wonwoo held your hand in his and brought you home. Finally, he had found what he had been searching for all these years. Wonwoo and you found your own timeless moment, a reunion that transcended the ages. And in that moment, you both knew that love, true love, was indeed eternal.
[fin]
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shahzaibfiaz123 · 3 months ago
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taexual · 1 year ago
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sleepwalking ● 11 | jjk
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pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, ANGST, PENT-UP FEELINGS, SLOW BURN
words: 7.8k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
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chapter 11 ► i can hear your heartbeat i’ve tried so hard to forget, i’m being buried under the memory of all of my regrets
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On the flight to Amsterdam in the morning, you ended up sitting next to Luna. That wasn’t particularly unusual as your entire team—apart from the roadies who drove the bus with the equipment over from Oslo, bless them—tended to change seats as they pleased.
Normally, though, Luna sat next to her boyfriend. So, the fact that she was sitting next to you this time was unusual.
“Funny thing,” she said to you once the plane was in the air and everyone around you began to slowly move around. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
You looked at her. “How is that funny?”
“It’s funny because when I woke up to get a bottle of water from the mini fridge,” she said, “the curtains on your bunk were drawn.”
You swallowed, suspecting what she was getting at, but refusing to give in. “That doesn’t sound very funny, either.”
“No, I agree,” she said, grinning as she got to the best part, “but as I went back, I noticed that Jungkook wasn’t in his bunk.”
You looked down at your tablet, the e-book you had opened already forgotten as the lines on the screen blurred together. “Huh.”
“Yeah,” Luna said. The more you evaded her, the happier she seemed. She had come to her own conclusions that, honestly, weren’t very far from the truth, but you couldn’t admit that, not even to her. “Any clue what’s that about?”
“None,” you lied with a nonchalant expression. “But I’m sure the explanation would be funny.”
She continued to grin at you. “I’m sure it would be. I’d love to hear it.”
You swallowed and pretended to be busy reading, even though the words on the screen might as well have been gibberish, given how little sense they made.
“I’m sure you would,” you mumbled.
Luna groaned. She wanted to know, and it was hard not to push when you were right there, and the truth of what had happened was on the tip of your tongue.
“Come on!” she pleaded, nudging her shoulder against yours. “Don’t make me wake Maggie.”
You knew Maggie was settled in the seat behind you, sleep mask, earpods and neck pillow in tow. She wasn’t the interrogator out of the two of them, but if she and Luna teamed up, they would either get you to admit everything, or they’d come to their own—probably exaggerated—version of what happened which you’d have to deny, thus confirming their initial suspicions anyway.
“What do you want me to say?” you asked, stalling.
“Just confirm what I already suspect,” Luna said, knowing better than to ask for the whole story.
You looked away instead of answering, but there was a warmth in your eyes that wasn’t there before; Luna’s questions had evidently brought back the memories of last night.
“Alright!” your friend cheered at the sight of it, relentless. “That’s confirmation enough.”
You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile that was tugging at your lips, but Luna still saw the corners of your mouth lift.
“How about you tell me why you weren’t sleeping tonight instead,” you said—only partially because you wanted to change the subject. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. That just happens sometimes, maybe too much adrenaline.” She shrugged, letting you drift off topic for the moment. “Should’ve jumped less at the concert last night. But hey, that was the reason I got to witness that very funny thing last night.” She snickered then, and, in response to your glare, said, “but I’m really fine.”
You knew the band would have three days off in Amsterdam before the next show, so Luna could reasonably get enough sleep in that time, but you still asked, “you sure?”
“Yes,” she repeated, then ran her fingers over her eyes, “and no third degree, please. I’m sitting with you because my boyfriend,” she emphasised the word as she sat up straight to look over the several rows of seats behind her where Taehyung sat, “as much as I love him, he won’t stop asking me if I’m fine every two seconds.”
“And here I thought you were sitting with me because you loved me,” you teased.
“I do love you,” she said. “But I also feel bad for him. I told him to sit with Yoongi, because Yoongi always naps on flights, and I knew that was the only way Tae would get any sleep.”
“Wait, so he didn’t sleep tonight, either?” you asked.
“He did at first,” Luna said, “but then he saw that I was awake, and he ended up staying awake, too.”
You smiled despite yourself. “You guys sicken me.”
Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of your seat—you felt fingers brush gently past your tied-back hair—and you heard Maggie moan behind you.
“You guys,” she muttered, sliding the mask from her eyes and leaning into the gap between your seat and Luna’s, “sicken me, too.”
“I thought you were asleep,” Luna said.
“How can I sleep? My earpods died a minute ago,” Maggie explained her own logic before directing her attention to you. “So, anyway. What happened between you and Jungkook?”
The continued ambush made you stutter, “wh-why do you keep asking that? Nothing happ—”
“Luna,” Maggie turned to your friend. “What happened? You and Taehyung were awake. I trust your words.”
You raised your eyebrows while Luna chuckled.
“Don’t worry,” she said to you. “I was the one who drew these conclusions. Taehyung didn’t see anything, he only heard Jungkook climb into his bunk.”
At first, you hadn’t even realised that Taehyung staying awake when Luna couldn’t sleep meant that he was not only a great boyfriend to her, but also that half the bus was awake when Jungkook snuck into your bunk.
“Jolly,” you said dryly as your eyes immediately left your friend’s face.
She smiled automatically, and, urged by your flustered state, turned to Maggie to tell her the facts: her lack of sleep and the search for a water bottle that led to the discovery of your drawn curtains and Jungkook’s empty bunk.
“And if you must know,” Luna said to you then, “my original plan was to make sure you were alone on the plane, so someone could take the seat next to you. But I ruined it by exiling my boyfriend to the back and finding you myself.”
“Clever plan,” you commented. “Thanks for sabotaging it.”
She snickered, not losing her optimism despite your sarcasm.
“More flights in the future,” Maggie remarked, prompting Luna to nod in eager agreement. “Maybe it’ll work out then.”
“Mmhmm. Fingers crossed,” you deadpanned.
“So, um, not to ruin the happy conversation,” Maggie said before she ruined the happy conversation, “but have you made a decision about Reconnaissance?”
“Oh.” You slumped in your chair. “No. My decision is to think about it as little as possible, so I can call Nick next month and tell him I’m not doing it. Because I’m afraid that if I do start thinking about it, I’ll end up… you know, wavering.”
Maggie regarded you from the gap between the seats. “And that’s bad?”
“That’s bad,” you confirmed. “I know I want to stay here.”
“Have you told the guys?” Luna asked.
“No. I haven’t had the chance yet.” You looked down, twisting the decorative silver-coloured ring on your index finger. “I kind of want this to come up naturally. I mean, as naturally as possible. So that it doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”
Luna nodded sympathetically, while Maggie’s grin widened behind you.
“Yeah,” she said. “And, obviously, you and Jungkook are busy with other things for this to come up naturally.”
You saw Luna start to laugh as your eyes widened and your lips formed the first excuse that came to mind. “Okay, that’s not even true, we were just—”
The two girls were snickering too hard to hear you, but it was Maggie’s considerate tap on your shoulder—as if to tell you to stop talking because they knew better—that made you close your mouth and roll your eyes at the two of them.
“So.” Luna shifted in her seat, looking for a more comfortable position. Even though she had the window seat, she didn’t look out once, focusing on you instead. “Now that we’re back on the subject—”
“There was no subj—”
“—you and Jungkook,” she persisted, undeterred by your attempt to return your attention to the tablet on your lap. “What does this mean?”
You sighed, realising you needed to say something. Luna and Maggie weren’t questioning you to be mean, they just wanted to know. And it was fair, considering you shared almost everything with each other, especially now that Luna joined Rated Riot for some of their tour dates.
And yet this particular topic was difficult. Just the mention of Jungkook’s name blocked something in your throat, as if there were only certain things you could say about him, and what had happened on the bus last night was not one of them.
“Nothing,” you said sincerely, because those five minutes with him were truly not supposed to hold any significance. “It wasn’t—it’s nothing.”
“Okay,” Luna said, lowering her eyebrows and her voice. “And if we’re serious, then what does it mean?”
You closed your eyes. “It—”
“Hey.” Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s voice rang from the aisle next to you. “Am I interrupting?”
This forced your eyes to shoot open in surprise.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Maggie muttered with a half-smirk as she pulled back, retreating deeper into her seat. Her eyes were still shining from this seemingly top-secret information that she had to squeeze out of you.
“Huh?” Jungkook looked at the girl behind you. Then, beaming as he realised what she was getting at, he asked, “oh, were you talking about me?”
“Not at all,” you said, locking your tablet and putting it in the back pocket of the seat in front of you. Jungkook wasn’t sure which of his questions you were answering. You asked, “what’s up?”
“It’s Hoseok,” he said. “He’s had a headache since before we boarded. He says he’s fine, but the veins on his temples are very prominent, so I think he could use some medicine.”
You grew visibly alarmed as he spoke, your mind racing through scenarios of what to do. There weren’t a lot of options, considering you were thousands of feet in the air right now.
“He hasn’t taken any?” you asked slowly.
“No,” Jungkook replied. He reminded you, “he says he’s fine.”
You nodded – this was Hoseok in a nutshell. Unless he collapsed abruptly, he was in perfect health.
“Of course,” you said. “Give me a moment, I have Advil in my bag.”
Jungkook patiently waited while you stood up from your aisle seat and grabbed your backpack from the overhead compartment. He was completely unaware of the big grins on Luna and Maggie’s faces as the girls watched him watch you.
They didn’t know why they bothered asking you anything. You were both painfully obvious.
“Here,” you said, handing him the package of medicine. “Maybe I should go over there—”
“I got it. Thanks,” he said with a good-natured smile. After a beat of silence, during which the two of you just watched each other and Luna had to bite her lip to stay quiet, Jungkook added, “get some rest. We have big plans in Amsterdam.”
You raised your eyebrows. “We? As in, you and me?”
You could see Luna through your peripherals, pretending to scratch something near her eye to hide her ridiculous beaming.
“Yes. I made a promise, remember?” Jungkook said.
You didn’t, not right away. Then the taxi ride in Paris returned to your memory.
“Oh, the bikes?” you asked, feeling almost ridiculous now. You had mentioned Amsterdam as a dream destination back then, but you didn’t think he’d consider it important enough to remember. “We don’t have to—”
“We’ll do it,” he cut you off. “I’ll come pick you up from your room when we get to the hotel.”
He made sure to leave you no option to disagree, so, you swallowed and nodded your head. “Okay. Sure.��
He gave Luna a quick smile, nodded at Maggie, then winked at you, and walked past, intentionally bringing his hand over your waist as you stood in the aisle.
You sat down, your skin on fire, but you naively hoped it did not show on your face. Really, it didn’t have to. Luna was, on a certain level, a psychic. Or, at least, hyper-aware of her surroundings. Maggie, on the other hand, just reacted to social cues, albeit not always quickly unless they were obvious. And, this time, they were obvious.
“Romantic,” Luna commented.
“Why bikes?” was Maggie’s addition to the conversation. “I say rent out a carriage. With white horses.”
Luna jumped in, “and white doves!”
“Alright, shut up,” you shot back, shaking your head to fight off another smile as the two girls nodded at each other conspiratorially.
This was ridiculous. But as Luna and Maggie chuckled next to you, you found yourself relaxing as well. They hadn’t scolded you for being unreasonable or evading a decision about Reconnaissance, or behaving stupidly altogether—even though you thought you deserved that. Instead, the girls just seemed excited for you.
Because of their good mood, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the meaningfulness of going bike riding after all that had happened on the bus last night.
And, in all truth, you felt excited as well.
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As Jungkook unzipped his suitcase in the hotel room he shared with Yoongi—who had already finished unpacking his equipment and had successfully occupied the only desk in the room—he realised two things.
The first was that he hadn’t packed enough black shirts and would have to wear white today, like a—he didn’t even know what. He always wore black.
And the second was that he felt a newfound motivation. Last night, as he returned to his bunk, stumbling over his own feet and thoughts of you, he had felt, simply, deflated. But today was different. He decided that if he were to take anything from last night, it would be this: you didn’t push him away.
And now he couldn’t give up on you.
So, groaning, he changed into a white shirt and glanced at the mirror by the door before leaving. He saw no difference in his appearance as he brought a hand through his hair, letting it fall in shaggy curls over his face. But then as he reached for the bottle of cologne in his toiletry bag, he saw that his hands were shaking. He was nervous.
He could remember an almost identical moment seven years ago when he took you out on your first date, not knowing back then that it would lead to a three-year relationship with a very bitter end.
To be clear, it was the bitter end that he hadn’t foreseen. Because even seven years ago, as he frantically double-checked your dinner reservations with a carefulness that was very unlike him, he knew he wouldn’t go on another first date after that night.
It was funny how he managed to be wrong and right at the same time.
This felt like a first date again. But it was still with you.
Seven years ago, you two had ended up missing your dinner reservations after all, because you’d gone to see a movie first—some romantic drama with a tragic end that you both pretended not to have cried at—and by the time it was over, it had started to rain.
You had tried to run, but you never made it past the park across from the restaurant. You had ended up in a gazebo in a clearing surrounded by willow trees and spent that night listening to the rain and falling in love.
“You okay over there?” Yoongi called out, bringing Jungkook back down from his memories.
“Hmm?” he turned to look at the older member. “Yeah. Why?”
“Been staring at your reflection for the past five minutes,” Yoongi said, taking off his headphones and resting them around his neck. “Is this an existential crisis or something I shouldn’t even bother asking about?”
Jungkook smiled softly. “Probably a little bit of both.”
“Alright.” Yoongi felt himself smile in response. “Stay safe.”
The younger boy nodded, took a deep breath, and glanced at his reflection one last time. Unconsciously, he brought his lip ring between his teeth and held it there for a second, before finally exiting the room.
He walked two doors down and knocked on yours. You opened it almost right away, but his heart still managed to do twelve and a half somersaults while he waited.
And then, as soon as you smiled and opened the door wider, inviting him inside, he could tell he was so fucked that he wasn’t sure if he could even fully grasp the extent of it.
You were wearing a loose pale blue shirt with a dark blue sports bra peeking through, paired with black biker shorts. The outfit seemed fitting for the occasion, but it made him lean against the door frame to avoid losing his balance. His mind was overflowing with thoughts and memories of you, to the point where he was sure they would start leaking if he opened his mouth.
Thankfully, you spoke up first as you went over to grab your backpack—smaller than the one you carried your belongings in during flights—from your bed. He found himself wondering how many bags you’d brought to Europe in a desperate attempt to distract himself from his pestilent memories.
“How’s Hoseok?” you asked.
Somewhere deep in his mind, Jungkook recalled walking the older member to his room when they got to the hotel, because as soon as Hoseok’s headache subsided, he really struggled to stay awake. But now, as he watched you move around the room—literally not doing anything other than gathering your phone and the hotel keycard—Jungkook found himself unable to form a single coherent sentence.
You paused and looked at him questionably.
He figured he’d better speak up instead of standing here like a complete idiot.
“He, uh—he’s—you know, he’s, uh, taking a nap,” he managed to say, mentally kicking himself. He sounded more composed when he wasn’t speaking. He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest to get it together. “He said he’s fine. I think he meant it this time. Some colour returned to his face.”
“That’s good,” you said with a thoughtful nod. “He’s probably tired now. I’ll text him to let me know when he’s awake.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed, listening to you but only half-hearing everything as you walked around your room, looking for something.
You weren’t sharing this room with anyone, but not by choice. Your room happened to be used to store everything that was too dangerous to keep on the bus for several nights during the stop in Amsterdam. 75% of the space here was filled with boxes of instruments and stage clothes.
Now you stood in the very centre of the room and somehow managed to look so effortlessly captivating that Jungkook wouldn’t have noticed if a robber jumped in and carried all the furniture out in comic slow-motion. He brought his hands over his face while you weren’t looking, but it did little to slow his heartbeat down.
“So, anyway,” he said with a strained voice, “are you ready?”
You bit your lip—why, why, why, had he not died enough times since he came here?—as you hesitated. “Yeah, but, as I’ve said before—”
“Then let’s go, please,” he cut you off shakily before you could assure him that he didn’t have to do this.
He thought he did. Although not to win the bet.
He had to do this because he knew you wanted this, and he’d rather throw himself into one of the canals than miss the chance to make at least one of your dreams come true.
He also had to get out of your hotel room, because being in control of himself was starting to seem like a theoretical idea more than an actual mechanism that he could use.
While you locked your room behind you, Jungkook turned to see Sid and Jude exit the elevator at the end of the hallway. Sid noticed him and stopped, punching Jude on the chest to get his attention. Already in the process of swinging back at him, Jude lifted his eyes and caught sight of Jungkook, too. Even from across the hall, Jungkook could see the impressed smiles on their faces when they noticed you next to him.
He looked away immediately, but still felt a sobering sensation in his chest. Once again, he repeated to himself that he wasn’t doing this for the bet.
However, he couldn’t help but doubt if that made any difference. What he was doing now still counted towards winning the bet.
But he knew he didn’t have the strength to avoid you or to justify the bet to himself in any other way. He’d given in last night. And he was barely holding himself together right now.
This was it. He’d made a choice.
It was a choice he should have made four years ago, instead of watching you walk away. Instead of thinking he could drown out the bitterness of you leaving with drinks that Sid, Jude, and Minjun served him.
It was you. It should have always been you.
Fortunately, his friends had already gone to their hotel room when you looked up, so you didn’t have to see them.
And, when the two of you found yourselves alone in the elevator, Sid and Jude were the last thing on Jungkook’s mind.
He felt you glance at him, but avoided meeting your eyes. He kept biting his lip, acutely aware of how long the ride down from the tenth floor should take and all the things that you could do during it.
“White looks good on you,” you commented, looking away from him.
Reflexively, he looked down at his shirt. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” you said. Then, glancing at him again, you added, “somehow brings out your eyes.”
This made his smile ridiculously big, the reaction amplified by the casual tone of your voice. You sounded like you’d just pointed out to someone that their shoes were untied – a helpful observation, nothing more.
“Ah,” he said, unable to resist. “Brings out my eyes, does it?”
You shot him a glare from the corner of your eye.
“I take it back,” you said. “White looks awful on you, never wear it again.”
He laughed, but did not lose his footing as he teased, “well, if it bothers you that much, I can take it off.”
You started to smile—an automatic reaction when you heard him laugh—but then widened your eyes instead.
“Please don’t do that in such a public place,” you said.
The alarm in your voice amused him endlessly. In your defence, you knew him well enough to know that he would actually do it if you challenged him.
“Oh?” he inquired, leaning closer with a playful grin. “Where would you like me to undress for you, then?”
You glanced at him and then very ceremoniously looked away. “That’s n-not what I meant.”
He laughed again and you were relieved when the elevator doors opened in the lobby a moment later, because you were certain that the warmth in your chest was starting to radiate off of you.
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Jungkook wanted to rent bicycles for the whole day, but you convinced him that you’d both already be tired after a few hours. He knew you had a point, but he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible and he was fine if bikes were, really, the reason for it.
In the end, you agreed on three hours, which was already too much as both of you began to complain about your thighs hurting after the first hour and a half.
But Amsterdam was beautiful, and it made the ache worth it.
Subtle tinges of decay and dampness, along with the stunning trees, still in miraculous full bloom despite it being mid-September, all tickled your senses as you and Jungkook rode your bikes through the streets of Amsterdam. The canals sparkled on your left while beautiful buildings lined the street on your right, tourists coursing back and forth down the pavement.
The wheel of the bike felt rough against your palms, and you wished you had brought gloves, but the sights, the smells, and even the noise of the crowds made it easier to endure the slight discomfort.
When you caught up to Jungkook, the two of you exchanged a glance. Both of your eyes were glittering, smiles widening, your hair blowing in the wind.
You realised that the sights here looked remarkably like the postcards your uncle had brought you. But being here felt completely different from what you’d expected when you looked at the cards.
Wordlessly, Jungkook smirked and challenged you to a race. Laughing as you sped up to catch up to him again, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for just a second, savouring it all.
The feeling in your chest right now was something you could never capture in a postcard to bring home.
Another hour later, the two of you returned your bicycles and Jungkook persuaded you to get some ice cream. You had to agree. At that point, you were tired and a little dizzy, and the sun was too bright to do anything but attempt to cool yourselves down.
You sat down on a bench by the canal and Jungkook noticed the almost constant smile on your face. He felt a surge of ideas of all that he could do in hopes of making you smile like this again.
“Did you ever think we’d be here?” he asked after a minute, looking back at the canal. “You and me.”
You looked at him. “What do you mean? In Amsterdam?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Back in university. When you used to look at those postcards above your desk, did you ever imagine us being here?”
You blinked, surprised once again by how much of your conversation in Paris and how much of your life from four years ago he remembered.
“You remember the postcards,” you said softly.
“Of course,” he said, suddenly turning solemn. “I’m sorry I never asked what they meant to you.”
“No, it’s—” you stopped in the middle of shaking your head. Then chose to just answer his previous question instead, “I don’t know. Back then, I think I imagined us everywhere.”
He smiled as he adjusted to the irregular beating of his heart. It was a new constant when he was with you. And it was a health hazard, he knew. And still, he’d missed it.
“Was I in a band in your imagination?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” you said, pausing while he laughed so hard that he nearly doubled over. You didn’t think your response deserved this reaction, but it drew a smile from you regardless. “And I wasn’t your manager. We were normal people, doing normal things.”
He stopped laughing and looked at you, a slight furrow in his brow. “Wait. Are we not?”
You gave him a look. “Are we?”
“Why not?” he asked with a shrug as he took a bite of his waffle cone before the ice cream could fully melt. “Who’s to say what’s normal?”
You continued to watch him, several classes of statistics and standard deviation under your belt. “Do you want an honest answer?”
“No,” Jungkook said without hesitation. He looked ahead as he spoke, “I like to think that ���being normal’ is just a construct.”
“Well, it is, but—”
“Don’t do it,” he interrupted. “If you mention statistics, I will—respectfully—toss you right into that canal.” He was the one who paused here as your smile widened at his threat. After a moment, he continued, “let me romanticise this. In my head, we are normal people.”
You agreed with a noncommittal shake of your head. “Okay, sure.”
“To be honest,” he said then, “I never imagined us here.”
“No?”
“In my mind, we were always in our little world. The campus, our dorms, our family homes,” he explained, gesturing with his hand as he listed the places that the two of you had spent years in. “That’s as far as I imagined us.”
You swallowed an unexpected lump in your throat and felt it go down heavily, catching on your trachea, stumbling around your lungs, and forcing you to clear your throat as you still tasted something bitter on your tongue.
It was a nice day. You didn’t want to rip open old wounds and pour salt on them just to see what would happen.
“Well, you’re not far off,” you said, brushing invisible dust off your shorts and focusing on your ice cream for a moment before you added, “that’s as far as we went.”
Jungkook sensed the discomfort in your words, but did not understand the cause.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’re here, aren’t we? The furthest I imagined us was, maybe, 100 kilometres south of your mum’s house. By the sea. And now we’re in fucking Amsterdam.”
He was right, you’d made it so far. But even though you felt your shoulders relax a little, you still insisted, “it’s different now.”
“How is it different?” he questioned further.
“Well, for one, we’re not in university anymore,” you said obviously enough. “No campus to come back to.”
“Bless that. I wouldn’t want to go back now.”
“And we’re not together anymore.”
Cringing at the unnecessary addition, Jungkook managed to say, “but we are.”
You looked down as you finished your ice cream and kicked some pebbles with the soles of your sneakers. “You know what I mean.”
“I know,” he replied, not giving up as he looked at you for a moment before stumbling a bit quietly, a bit awkwardly, “but, um. We are together. Still.”
You lifted your eyes to meet his, but looked away after barely a minute, frightened by how much of your shared history you could see there.
You couldn’t do this. Five minutes in the dark bus, with no one but the two of you in your bunk, was one thing. You could pretend it didn’t mean anything, even though his taste still lingered in your mouth.
But this conversation was not something that you could pretend to forget in five minutes. This was four years of silence. Of locked doors, deleted pictures, and wet pillowcases.  
Four years of forced solitude, tall, thick walls, and strict boundaries.
Some of them you’d crossed.
But now you were here. And you couldn’t cross this one. You couldn’t reminisce with him while ignoring the weight of your break-up.
Exhaling, you pursed your lips. “You know what? You’re right. We’re as together now as we were back then.”
Jungkook felt his muscles stiffen. The last bites of his ice cream were completely tasteless.
“What—what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, not blinking as he watched you.
He was cold all of a sudden, he realised. Sitting right under the warm sun of September, and shivering. He suspected that ice cream had very little to do with this.
“You know what it means,” you replied, unaware of how much your vague response affected him because you did not look at him.
It felt like he was speeding down the streets of Amsterdam on his bicycle, and suddenly, someone poked a stick into the wheel, forcing him to fly off the bike and land on something very sharp. Something very confusing. Very painful.
“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think I do.”
You looked up finally, more out of confusion than anything else. You weren’t sure if he was pretending, playing another stupid game, or if he genuinely did not understand.
He was watching you with a frown, clenching his jaw harder with each passing second that you did not respond. He genuinely did not understand.
“It means,” you said, “that this was what our dates used to be like. Like two co-workers trying to have a meaningful conversation.”
Jungkook didn’t know which word to react to first: ‘co-workers’ or ‘trying’, so he just went quiet.
“And, at what point in our relationship,” he asked after a minute, “did you figure that was how you felt?”
You heard the bitterness in his voice and felt your irritation grow. He had some audacity to question you like this after the way your relationship ended.
“It wasn’t how I felt,” you said, nearly spitting the word out. “It’s how it was.”
He scoffed. “Don’t try to make this objective. It’s clearly just your own perception.”
Your eyebrows rose involuntarily, your heart reacting to his words before your mind could.
“How could it be?” you argued, clearly in disbelief that he had a different point of view. “We barely talked. The longest conversation we had, at that point, was when you had to describe the fucking police station that you were in after you got arrested.”
“At what point?” he asked again, frustration even more evident in his voice.
“I don’t know,” you shot back, exasperated. “A few months before we broke up, maybe? We weren’t spending any time together anymore. And if we were, then your asshole friends were there with us. Everyone who knew us could tell we were going to break up eventually.”
Looking away, Jungkook squeezed his lips together, running his tongue over the inside of his teeth. His entire body seemed to go numb and then suddenly tense up again.
He didn’t know how you got here, how you reached this conversation, but he had a vague feeling that you were meant to talk about this sooner or later.
It wasn’t easy, though. He had to force himself to keep looking at you, force himself to speak, to say the things he’d only managed to put into song lyrics until this point.
“I couldn’t,” he finally said.
You frowned. “What?”
“I couldn’t tell,” he said, a self-deprecating expression on his face. He continued speaking while intentionally gazing into the distance, “you may find that shocking to believe, but until the day you said we shouldn’t be together anymore, I thought we were in love.”
“You literally just said that you could barely imagine us outside of my mum’s house,” you retorted.
“That’s because I never wanted us to be anywhere else!” he snapped, looking at you with a level of anger that you’d never seen in all the years you’d known him. “I liked what we had.”
“We had nothing!” you argued, your hands in the air. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some tourists doing double-takes as they walked by. You were far too engrossed in the conversation to control your volume. “You went out every night and caused a scene every time you brought your friends over. You went along with them when they tried to kill themselves drag racing, despite my protests. You didn’t even—”
“I named my car after you!” Jungkook interjected, even though the car wasn’t, technically, his. It had been a gift from Sid, so all of his friends could race together, but he thought his point still stood. He used the car, and he wanted it to have your name.
“Right,” you acknowledged his—largely pointless—interruption, “and I’m sure that would have been very meaningful if you hadn’t crashed it on your first fucking drive. Like I told you that you would.”
“Yeah, well.” He moved his jaw, poking his cheek with his tongue. “At least I loved you until the very end.”
That was a lie, the past tense he’d used. But he looked at you and the fire in your eyes intimidated him. He knew you wouldn’t believe him if he told you he’d never stopped being in love with you.
“For your information, I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you,” you said with an angry huff. Your following explanation seemed to rip the bandages you’d carefully glued on the gaping wounds in your chest. “I broke up with you because I felt like you stopped loving me.”
He felt a sudden chill, and—immediately—frostbite. As though he’d gone out dancing in a blizzard the night before, and the blood in his veins had frozen, a bewildering cold gripping his chest.
You thought he had stopped loving you.
Jungkook swallowed hard as he listened and couldn’t open his mouth to reply. Couldn’t lift his eyes off the ground.
He didn’t know how long he stayed completely still, alternating between seemingly looking at himself from the outside, and listening to the deafening screeching inside of his mind.
He was paralysed when he felt you stand up from the bench. When he saw your shadow move away and, eventually, disappear.
You hadn’t said another word and he remembered how familiar this feeling was.
He remembered standing in his dorm room, speechless and angry with himself, after you stormed out because he had told you he already had plans; he was going out with Sid, Jude, and Minjun again—racing. Or drinking. Or one after the other, not necessarily in the same order.
Maybe you were right.
He had stopped acting like your boyfriend long before he actually stopped being one.
Because the two of you had wordlessly agreed to never discuss your relationship or your break-up again, four years have passed without any closure whatsoever—and only now he realised that he wasn’t the one who was hurt.
He realised how much he’d hurt you.
All this time, he was insecure about the end of your relationship because you were the one who broke up with him. You were the one who left.
He never looked for reasons within himself. He stupidly, blindly, thought he hadn’t done anything that warranted this. He thought you just didn’t want him anymore. He thought these things happened sometimes.
He never thought he was the one who made that happen.
He didn’t know what he was doing now.
How could he even attempt to get back together with you without making up for his mistakes? Making up for his unforgivable ignorance?
He’d apologise—he’d have to, he could feel his entire skin itching the longer he sat there, not looking for you—but would it mean anything, if you didn’t believe that he changed?
Had he changed?
He was sitting here, alone, after all. Because of a bet that he’d made with the same people who broke you up the first time.
Suddenly, Jungkook looked up. He knew how to answer all of his questions.
He had to act, first of all, instead of passively regretting everything he’d done and hadn’t done.
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“The bet is over,” Jungkook declared as soon as he threw open the door of Sid’s hotel room, not bothering to knock.
He wanted to get back together with you, without any underlying conditions, secrets, or bets.
Just you and him.
All three of his friends were here and they were, understandably, surprised. Although Minjun’s shock quickly turned into pride—and Jungkook felt his heart flutter. He needed this.
“What?” Jude asked, poking his head out of Sid’s bathroom and sniffling before he brought his hand over his nose. “You’re back together?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook replied firmly. “I’m not doing this anymore.”
Sid walked out of the bathroom next—Jungkook had no interest in what they were doing in there—with some sort of a mix of a smirk and a scowl on his face.
“Well, you can’t just decide that,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel even though they seemed dry, “can you?”
“Uh, yes, I can,” Jungkook argued, feeling foolish to be having this conversation. It seemed as silly now as it had before, when he had returned from Paris and Sid forcefully prolonged the bet. “I made the bet—”
“We made it, too,” Sid cut him off, his voice stern. He treated this like a legitimate deal, a legally binding contract almost. “And we don’t think it can be over just because you’re afraid of losing.”
“I’m not afraid of losing,” he said and for a moment, he was surprised to realise that he truly meant it. His bike seemed so trivial when compared to all that he could lose if he won it back. “I’m just not fucking doing this with you anymore.”
“Well, then you lose by default,” Sid shrugged. “I keep the bike.”
“Actually, we keep the—” Jude was interjecting, but Jungkook took a large step towards Sid, stopping just inches from his face. It caused Jude to stop talking immediately.
“You don’t keep anything,” Jungkook snarled, emphasising every syllable, despite seeing how little it meant to Sid. “If the bet is over, there’s no winners or losers.”
“But the bet isn’t over,” Sid countered with a self-assured grin. “Not unless all involved parties agree to it. Right, Minjun?”
Jungkook glanced at the only remaining person in this room.
Minjun sounded uncomfortable as he began, “well, to be honest—”
“Careful now,” Sid cut in sharply. “You’re supposed to enforce the rules of the bet.”
Of course, what he really meant was, you’re supposed to obey me.
Jungkook saw Minjun hesitate.
“Look, man, it’s a bet,” he said. Jungkook felt himself exhale in immeasurable relief. He had someone on his side. He had a friend. Minjun continued, “it’s literally just a game. If he doesn’t want to do it anymore, then—”
“Then tough shit, isn’t it?” Sid’s tone was menacing. “Considering he’s going to have to do it anyway.”
“It was stupid—”
Sid was so indecently unfazed that he was practically inviting a punch in the face as he replied, “he shouldn’t have agreed to it if it was stupid.”
His sneer made Jungkook perk up.
“I didn’t agree to shit. It was you—” he started to say, then cut himself off. He did agree to it. But he couldn’t help but still feel manipulated. Tricked.
Likely for the first time in his life, Jungkook could see—with bitter clarity—that these people were bad for him. But he’d called them friends for so long, he’d done so much with them, never really facing any long-term consequences, that he never even questioned it.
Until now.
Until he realised that there was a long-term consequence to his friendship with Sid: your break-up.
“I’m not doing this,” Jungkook finally finished.
“Not doing what?” Sid asked with a laugh that seemed louder than usual, strengthened by whatever he’d done in the bathroom before he got interrupted. “If you back out, you lose. The bike goes to me—”
“And me,” Jude interjected. Jungkook was this close to knocking them both out, but he knew it’d bring him exactly zero extra points with his band or with you.
“—what’s not clear to you about this?” Sid finished, ignoring Jude and the glare on Jungkook’s face.
“I won the first bet,” Jungkook hissed, “so the bike is, technically, mine, but that’s—”
“Technically, you didn’t,” Sid interrupted, pouting to convey fake-pity. “And you won’t win this one, either. That’s clearly why you’re trying so hard to get out of this. It’s what you do. You never fight if you see that you won’t immediately succeed.”
It stung – because he knew that Sid was right. But it also felt unfair, because Sid was the one who made it impossible for Jungkook to succeed at anything unless he excelled at it on the first try. Sid simply couldn’t voluntarily surround himself with people who were better than him, so he put in great effort to make sure they weren’t.
“I’m not—I’m just realising how fucking immature you are,” Jungkook retorted, trying to control the volume of his voice as he knew his frustration only benefitted Sid.
Sid laughed and leaned in even closer—his nose nearly brushed against Jungkook. Once again, he felt irritated that despite barely being shorter than Sid, he was still treated like the last living hobbit.
“Oh, the little baby thinks I’m immature because he realises that we’re not here to cater to his wishes,” Sid taunted. If the edges of Jungkook’s vision weren’t so red, he might have pointed out the irony to him; Sid was the one who made a living by forcing people to favour him. “Maybe you should have considered that before making the bet. You’ve never won against me. And you never will.”
“Sid,” Minjun cut in again. “Let it go. You can have your fun at someone else’s expense.”
He pulled something out of his pocket, and Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat when he recognised the keys to his Katana. Sid had a similar reaction, except his surprise quickly turned to disdain.
Who does he think he is, Sid’s scorn seemed to be asking, to defy me?
“You might want to think twice about it, Minjun,” Sid said out loud, his voice dangerously calm. He pulled away from Jungkook to give Minjun a warning look. “You think this is a funny little game, but I bet it won’t be so funny when it has very real consequences.”
Jungkook turned his head in time to witness Minjun’s face drain of colour, but he couldn’t comprehend this reaction—not in a way that made sense, at least. His only assumption was outrageous.
Would Sid really take this so far? Would he really exaggerate the significance of this bet so much?
“What—what is he talking about?” Jungkook asked Minjun. “Your parents?”
Minjun simply hung his head, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the keys in his hand. He didn’t say anything, and Jungkook knew it was true.
Sid was threatening Minjun’s family—the jobs of his parents, both of whom depended on Sid’s mother. Without her, they would still have enough money to survive, even keep and maintain all of their real estate, but Sid’s mother had the power to blacklist them from the industry. And she would, Jungkook knew. She’d do anything for her only child.
Sid was using Minjun’s parents as leverage for something as stupid as a fucking bet that Minjun did not even make. A bet that was never supposed to even get this far.
That was the point he was proving.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. He recognised what this was really about, these tireless attempts to establish superiority.
Sid was the great-grandson of one of the top conglomerates in the country. The only downside to his life was that his inheritance came from his mother’s side of the family. As a result, he was taken less seriously among his family—because the Old Money world that he lived in functioned only within their favourite -isms: sexism and racism.
Sid was no one in the eyes of his relatives. So, he was going to do everything to make sure he was someone here.
“That’s what I thought,” Sid barked at Minjun’s submissive silence. He turned to Jungkook. “So, what’s it going to be? You admit your defeat now, or do you want to delay it? I’m generous enough to wait. I know I’ll win in the end. I always do.”
He always had a point to prove to an audience that listened. And his audience was here, in this room.
But Jungkook was done listening.
“You know what?” he said. He glanced at Minjun—who stood there helplessly and miserably—before looking back at Sid and spitting, “I’m not going to fucking entertain you anymore. Fuck you.”
Without waiting for either of them to respond, Jungkook stormed out of Sid’s room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t even consider the possible complaints from other hotel guests who probably heard him throw the door open fifteen minutes ago, and then leave again in an equally furious manner.
Blind to everything around him, he marched over to your room and knocked on your door before he lost the angry courage.
He needed you. He’d always had.
You appeared surprised when you opened the door and saw him in the hall.
“Hey,” he said, looking somehow very small, despite his frame filling the entire doorway. “Can I come in? We should talk.”
You watched him for a minute.
The two of you had just had your first fight about your relationship since you started working together and decided to leave everything that had happened between you in the past.
Neither of you knew if this argument was a good thing (closure?) or a bad thing (a final fight in your long list of fights).
But maybe today had to be the day you found out.
“Yeah,” you decided, stepping aside to let him in. “We should.”
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chapter title credits: bad omens, “the letdown”
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gretavangroupie · 10 months ago
Text
The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 3)
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader
Word Count: 19.8k
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Oral M! Receiving, Protected Sex.
Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify
A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.
"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."
AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS
HER POV
The heat of your breath is fogging up the windows of the van as you drift in and out of a dazy snooze. The morning has already been long, with a wake-up time of 3:30AM to be on the van to the airport by 4:00AM. The flight to Amsterdam from Hamburg was short, only a little over an hour long, thank goodness. However, now all you can think about is getting checked into your hotel room and crashing back out for a couple of hours before you have to wake up again. 
Paul, Wes, and Corri are occupying the seats toward the front of the van, and you’re thankful you can let your head rest on the window in peace. Your AirPods are stuck in your ears with the volume just loud enough that you could hear if one of them spoke to you, but still enough to fully enjoy the music floating through your ears. You don’t even dare listen to the playlist Jake made for you, it almost puts a sour taste in your mouth just looking at it, especially after what happened last night. 
Of course Josh caught you. Of course it had to be him. But what is really still throwing you for a loop is why Josh felt he had to keep the encounter such a secret, locking his lips and doing away with the key. 
Jake hadn’t said anything about your last addition of ‘High and Dry’, but you chalked it up to him just wanting to diffuse the situation after you left the bar, alone. You thought he might walk you back, given the situation you’d found yourself in just two nights prior, but he didn’t. He stayed, and let you go. And thankfully you’d made it back safely by yourself. 
The more you think about it, the more you realize Jake had plenty of time to text a quick ‘Sorry about that’ or ‘We’ll talk tomorrow, goodnight…’ but he didn’t. Again. Just left you….high and dry. And what made it even worse was that as you were trying to fall asleep in your hotel room last night, you heard the faint sound of the song playing out in the hallway. Jake was coming back to his room, listening to the song you added for him as he meandered closer and closer. But instead of a knock on your door, all you heard was the latch of his closing. 
You find yourself feeling a little pissed off, because the moment you shared in the dark bathroom really felt like something. It was…very fucking hot, if you’re being honest. He felt good. He felt strong, and sturdy, but also gentle and delicate when he needed to be. You can almost still feel how he felt between your legs, pressed up against you as you sat on the edge of the sink. His hands on your back, mouth on your neck, fingertips digging into your thighs….
“Y/N! Let’s get out of here!” You hear Corri’s brash voice wake you from your rated-R daydream, and you have to blink a few times to get the image of Jake all over you out of your head. You stretch a little and pull the music from your ears as the cab light comes on, and the four of you exit the van. You check into your far too luxurious hotel room, and crash onto the bed without even bothering to change your clothes. 
Your alarm startles you two hours later, and surprisingly the cat nap has you feeling extremely refreshed. You jump from the bed and pull the curtains on the window, showing you the scene of a cloudy Amsterdam from your fourth-story room. You can feel the cold air moving through the window, and you know it’s going to be another bitterly chilly day. 
After a quick rinse-shower, you sit back on the bed to check your phone and emails and see you have a text from an unknown number from just ten minutes ago.
Unknown
9:02AM: Hey! We’re going to go see the city and walk around a little, you want to go?
You deduce that it is probably Mia or Lyla, and you contemplate on whether or not you want to even move from your bed today. But after a little thought, and another glance to the sun barely peeking through the clouds, you decide, why the hell not. You don’t want to see Jake, really, but the regret you’d feel for not seeing Amsterdam while you’re here would probably be worse. You send up a quick prayer that Josh will keep your secret today, and not make things any more awkward than they already are. 
You
9:04AM: Hey, sure! I’d love to 😊
Unknown
9:05AM: Cool! We’re leaving in an hour, we’ll meet up in the lobby. Dress warm!
9:05AM: This is Lyla, btw
You
9:06AM: Sounds great, see you in a bit
You lock your phone and stand up to finish getting dressed, adding on a few more layers to your already warm attire. Your stomach churns with nerves, but you’re excited to see the city and maybe get to know the girls a little better. Plus, Ruth is begging you for photos. 
Speaking of Ruth…
You grab your phone and pull it from the charging cord, bringing up her contact for a FaceTime call. It rings out, and you press your eyeball directly to the front camera lens.
“Shit, what the hell, cyclops!” She yells as you pull away snickering. 
“Why is it so dark in your room?” you ask, realizing you hadn’t even thought about the time difference. 
“Because it’s two o’clock in the fuckin’ morning here, dimwit! I answered because you scared me. Are you okay?” she spouts off with her voice cracking from sleep. 
“Shit, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine,” you laugh a little as she rubs her eyes in the light of her phone screen. “I’m in Amsterdam, thought I’d give you a rundown but, you need to go back to sleep,” you say. 
“Ugh, if I didn’t have to wake up in three hours for work I would disagree with you. Yeah, just text me. Actually no, that will take too long. Send voice memos. Or a video or something.”
You take a quick breath. “I have a lot to tell you, Ruthie.”
“Fuck, seriously? Damn it, just…send something I don’t care. I gotta know. Is it bad news? It’s good news, right?” she goes on.
You roll your eyes a bit as you place your fingers over your mouth. “It’s…a lot. Good and, well not the best. Go back to sleep. I love you.”
“Kay nighty night.” Her last words were said with her eyes closed, and you know for a fact she’s already drifted back off into her slumber. 
You plop onto your bed and scroll social media for a few minutes as you try to kill time, feeling your stomach start to growl and grumble against the mattress below you. 
Maybe you should you add a song? 
No… You’d be seeing Jake in the next little bit, and you were the last one to make contact. This is up to him, if he even wants to. You stand and grab up your long, heavy coat, making sure you have everything you need for the day before taking off to the lobby to grab a quick breakfast and wait on everyone else. 
JAKE POV
The music swirling through the steamy air comes to a close as you spin the handle on the shower faucet, the water slowly trickling to a stop. The song she sent last night has been stuck in your head since you hung up with Isla, and you have let it be the soundtrack to your life in the hours since. You spent nearly the entire shower thinking about Y/N, listening along to the track and letting it seep into your bones. You thought about her, and only her for the past few days now. How you left her last night, and how you have yet to speak to her since. Even the plane ride this morning was spent in silence. You knew you needed to answer her song, say something to explain yourself. You were going to, you just had to figure it out, and now that you had time to sit down and think about it, uninterrupted, you would. 
Get out, dry off, get dressed and answer her. You had a plan, and you were sticking to it. 
You step out of the large walk in shower, wrapping the fluffy white towel around your waist. You take a second to look at your surroundings, remembering how only a few years ago you were all bringing towels from home, feeling lucky enough to shower in a rundown Motel 6 bathroom in the middle of nowhere. Your life had changed drastically in a matter of years, and it wasn’t long into that success when you first met Isla. 
She was a vision of auburn hair as she swept through the bar that night, so light and so carefree. You could see why Lyla and Sam had befriended her, her personality very much the same as theirs. It wasn’t long after that night that the two of you started seeing each other, things quickly becoming serious. A year later she moved into your house. It was like she was always there, making the space her own and sharing her days with you. She was with you as the band really started to make moves, never once complaining about the late nights or the long stretches of tour, that is, until she did. 
Things started to change last summer. The once light and vibrant girl you fell in love with had become catty and accusatory, her light burning out and her desire to be something other than your girlfriend dwindling away to nothing. It became her, consumed her, and suddenly you became an accessory instead of a partner. Nothing seemed to satisfy her anymore, and the time you could give her was never enough. She reminded you of that, often, as if there was anything you could do to change it. You fought like cats and dogs on any given day, each argument always ending in a band-aid resolution that never got you anywhere. 
There were the big ones, the ones that would have you on the couch at Josh’s or in the guest room at Sam’s. The ones they didn’t ask about because they knew better, instead opening their homes and lending their liquor cabinet. The ones that you didn’t dare mention, even months after the fact, for fear of starting it all over again. Those fights started to get closer and closer together, until you found yourself almost needing to chip in for your brothers’ mortgage payments.
You knew it was done. You knew it was over, but the problem wasn’t that you couldn’t do it. No, the problem was that every time you would try, it wouldn’t stick. Listening to her tell you that your reasons were never good enough, or that it would be too hard to end things before you left. It was always before you left, and this time was no different. 
Your phone buzzing on the bathroom counter snaps you back to reality, watching as it slowly inches its way closer and closer to the edge. You snatch it up as your hair drips down your back, sliding your finger across the glass as you scoff at the name on the Caller ID.
“Hello, Josh.”
“Oh, so they didn’t invite you either? Assholes…” he grumbles under his breath. 
“Invite me where? Who?” you ask, making your way back into the room.
“Sam and Daniel, and the girls I guess…” he pauses, “Just checked their location to see if they wanted to get brunch and they fucked off into town without us. Not even an invite.” 
“Really?” you ask, pulling your phone away from your ear to check your texts. “Shit, yeah, I didn’t get a text from them either. Though, I did tell them I was gonna catch a few more hours of sleep when we got here. Can’t you just go with Ty?” You groan, knowing you really planned to stay in your room all day and binge watch Criminal Minds.
“No. He went for a massage a little while ago, so now you have to go with me,” he says matter of factly. 
“Do I? I don’t think I do, actually.”
“No, you do, it’s in the rule book,” he answers, an air of playfulness in his voice. 
“The rule book…Don’t think I got one of those,” you joke, pulling on a pair of boxers. 
“Yeah, they give it to the head twin, you know, the first one out,” he laughs. “I’m in charge, the book says so, and I say brunch with a Mimosa. If you’re good I’ll even get you a Bloody Mary, my treat. Meet me downstairs in like fifteen,” he says, ending the call before you even have a chance to decline. Fucker, he knew you too well. 
You quickly dress yourself, checking your phone no less than five times just to see if maybe she had said something, but still there is silence. Your plan has officially gone to shit, no surprise there. You promised yourself you’d do it when you got back. No excuses. You huff out a sigh as you spray your cologne, grabbing your wallet and your phone and shoving them into your coat pocket. You make your way downstairs to meet Josh, finding him lounging in a wingback chair nearly double his size. 
“Let’s go before I change my mind,” you offer, watching him spring out of the chair, his white Nike’s scuffing loudly against the marble tiles. 
“Did you text Dean?” you ask, pushing open the glass doors. 
“Yeah, the place I want to go is just a block away, said to call him if we need him but keep our wits about us. Told him I would, but can’t speak for you since you don’t have any.”
You stop walking and start to turn around, definitely not in the headspace for his antics today. He stops too, and you feel him grab your arm and sling you back in the right direction. 
“Alright, alright, sheesh, no games today, got it,” he says, feigning guilt. 
You walk in silence the rest of the way, ducking into a little cafe with a heated patio. You felt like you hadn’t seen the sun in days and both of you quickly agree that the patio might be your only chance. 
Your eyes scan the menu, looking for any words that seem familiar to you. You’re about half way through it when Josh pulls your menu down and looks you in the eye. You know what he wants, and you know you have to tell him, but you need a drink first, at the very minimum. 
Saved by the bell your waiter comes to your table, taking your drink orders and rushing off before you could blink. 
As expected the grilling starts, and much to your dismay you are alone on the patio with no chance of anyone hearing the two of you bicker.
“Alright Jake, I let you sleep on it. Time to talk,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest. 
You rub your hand over your face, truly not knowing where to begin. You let out a sigh, and he seems to pick up on your inner turmoil. 
“Start wherever, but I would probably choose the beginning.”
You move your fingers to your lips, looking at him with challenging eyes “What is it exactly that you want to know, Josh? I mean–”
“Cut the shit, Jake. What is going on? I want everything, top to bottom, now,” he snaps, aggression present in his tone. 
“You’re mad for no fuckin’ reason, Josh!”
“No, I’m mad for great reason, Jake! You’re out here fucking around with our runner, two days into the tour mind you, while your girlfriend is back in Nashville living in your home!” he seethes, his fists clenched tightly on top of the white tablecloth. 
Your blood is boiling as he finishes his tirade. “Knock it the fuck off, you know damn good and well she is not my girlfriend anymore!”
“Do I? Do I, Jake? Last I heard, you were ‘easing off for a little bit’...” he replies, gesturing air quotes.
“Do you honestly think that I would have been living in your house for the last month if we were ‘just ‘easing off’? You retort, gesturing the same air quotes. 
Josh sits back in his chair a little, his aggression backing off just a little bit, enough for you to keep talking. “Explain.”
You blow out a breath of frustration, “She doesn’t get it, Josh. I can’t seem to get it through her head.”
“What?”
You bite your lips together before you answer, “I have tried to end things no less than five times in the last few months. There’s always some reason… Always something that…Fuck, I don’t know. It just never sticks. She won’t hear it,” you pause, “I was serious this time though, Josh. I told her point blank, I do not want to be together anymore. It was like I was speaking fucking Latin, she refused to hear me. We were up the entire night arguing, man. It’s… It’s just so done, and I’m the only one who can see it apparently.”
“So if she won’t accept it, you’re still technically together, though? She’s still in the house?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over his beard. 
“Yeah, I mean, I guess? But also, No? The only way I could get the fuck out of that house in time to make it on the plane, was by agreeing to a ‘break’. But it’s not a break. I’m done, she knows I’m done. Told her she could still live in the house for a bit until she found her own place, but I told her, point blank, we needed to separate. No contact. You can see how that is going for her.”
“Does she know that you are…you know, seeing other people?” he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. 
“Am I supposed to care? We aren’t together!” you argue. 
“But you kind of are Jacob!” he spits, “Look, I’m not trying to like, take her side here or whatever, but if she is under the impression you two are only on a break, I highly doubt she would be okay with you seeing other people. You’ll be labeled a cheater and god knows what else if she catches wind.”
“This is the messiest shit I have ever been a part of. I swear to god…” you groan, rubbing your hand over your face. “I seriously never thought I would find myself going through something like this.”
His brows pinch together in confusion, “So why didn’t you just say straight up, I want to separate, please move out of my home?”
“I mean, I kind of did, I think. It’s so much more complicated when you’ve been together as long as we have. We’ve had the exact same argument hundreds of times, that’s no exaggeration. She lives with me, man… I can’t just expect her to move out overnight, ya know? Which is why I agreed to the break. To give her time to…Get her shit together, I guess. But she knows I’m out. She has to know.”
“But she is still calling and texting you daily?” he asks. 
“All fucking day everyday. I never reply, and she still continues. As if– as if nothing ever happened. Like I said, she is just not getting it,” you explain. “Every time I would come stay at your place, she would just… come up with some reason, or some excuse to get me to come home for a few nights. We would just bandaid the problem, until it just exploded again and I’d end up back at your house or at Sam’s. But I had to be careful at Sam’s because Lyla is her best fuckin’ friend. You’d think she would have caught the drift after so many nights of me crashing there that things weren’t good. I don’t know, I hate this shit, I have suffered long enough. I want out. And I fear that when we get home, I might have to take more drastic measures. And I don’t want that shit, either.”
“So things are a lot worse than you initially led on…” he states, shaking his head as he sips from his glass. 
“Yeah, I guess so. Shit’s embarrassing, man. It’s rocky as hell and I don’t know what to do. I obviously still care for her as a person, but I just can’t do this with her anymore. I thought this time and space away from each other would help me get my head right and find a way to sort this shit out, but it seems like it’s only gotten worse and even more complicated since even a month ago, before we ever even left,” you continue. 
“And now there’s Y/N…” he grimaces, truly starting to understand your predicament. “I mean, it’s really only been, what, two days?”
You let out a sigh and shake your head, “Yeah, yeah. But I can honestly say that I have felt more in the last two days for Y/N than I have felt for Isla in the last year.”
“Do you think maybe… She’s…just a distraction from your real feelings? Like a space filler type of thing while you figure out shit with Isla?” he asks, broaching the subject very gently. “To be fair, I don’t blame you at all, she’s really gorgeous and a lovely girl from the little I’ve talked to her.”
“I know it looks that way, trust me. I do. But, no… It’s something else. I know it's only been two days, but there is something there, and I have to explore it,” you admit. “Like I said, I feel things I haven’t felt in so long. Not just physical things, either. And yeah, I know she works for us, and shit, but I– It was about two minutes into that plane ride that I knew it didn’t matter. I had to get to know her.”
“Answer me this, do you still love Isla?” he asks, leaning his elbows onto the table as he gives you that horribly painful twin stare that you both can only give to one another. The kind that pulls the truth from you no matter how badly you might not want to admit it. 
“I mean, I love her as a person, but no, I haven’t been in love with her in some time,” you confess. 
“In your mind is there any chance of reconciliation?” 
Your mind flashes through a hundred scenes of screaming fights, thrown objects, tears and accusations, “No. Not anymore,” you pause, rubbing your lips. “A week ago if you asked me that, I might have said maybe. It would be so easy to fall back into the good routine we had, everything would be good again for a little while at least, but it would change and we would be back to where we are now. Endless fuckin’ cycle. I can’t do that my whole life, Josh. I don’t deserve that. I was so excited about this leg of tour, just because she wasn’t coming. I could be alone and not go to bed mad and arguing every night. Do you know how fucked that is? That is not how I should feel about the person I am supposedly in love with. I should want her here, and I just don’t.”
He nods his head in agreement, sucking his teeth with a hiss. 
“Two days with Y/N has proven to me just how unhappy I am in that relationship with Isla. How much I’m just…not in love with her anymore. It only confirms my decision,” you admit. 
“So she’s calling and stuff to try and keep you strung along… So that you’ll come home and pick right back up on this nasty cycle the two of you are in…” he questions. 
“Basically. Which is why I refuse to engage with it. She can text all she wants, I’m not answering her,” you snap. “Things aren’t black and white for her, they are very gray and for me they are stark white. I don’t know how to make it more clear.”
He drops his head and looks up at you as he leans on his elbows again, “Look, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I won’t say anything to anyone about last night, or whatever is going on with you and Y/N. I want you to be happy, and I can tell you haven’t been in a long time. I’m just really sorry I was such an ass. I wish you would have talked to me, you know, like we used to.”
“I know, I know. It’s my own pride that stopped me. I just, I feel like I'm on the precipice of being happy again, I just have to keep following it, even if it looks really bad from the outside,” you pause, “Also, you guys have to stop picking on her, she is innocent in all of this. She already thinks you guys don’t like her.”
“Oh, that's just not true, we all like her a lot, you have to tell her we don’t mean it,” he laughs, tilting his head to the side as he tosses back the rest of his mimosa. “Wait, does she know about Isla?”
“No, absolutely not,” you answer a little too quickly. 
“Are you… planning on telling her?” 
“Honestly, I haven’t really thought that far ahead, I mean, I know I need to. I wasn’t really planning on Isla blowing my phone up day and night. Guess I should have known better, huh?” you laugh, offering him a small smile. 
“You need to tell her, Jake. Don’t fuck it up before you even get things started,” he offers. 
“Don’t you know that’s my specialty?” you ask, sipping your spicy bloody mary. “I mean, last night is a whole other problem. When you saw us out there I had every intention of leaving that bar with her and taking her back to the hotel. It was all I could think about. But then you were out there with my phone and the shit with Isla. Fuck…I panicked. I just sent her back to the hotel. Left her out to dry like a fucking prick. Haven’t spoken to her since. She probably wants nothing to do with me at this point.”
“No, no I doubt that. She’s probably a little hurt, maybe a little confused, but I think she will come around. I saw the way she was looking at you last night,” he smiles. “But Jake, seriously. You have to tell her about Isla.���
“God, I know it just, why would I even be thinking about Isla when I’m with her? I swear it’s like none of it exists when we are with each other. Everything is easy.”
“Sounds like you found yourself someone special,” he smiles. 
“I think you’re right.”
HER POV
The morning had been spent walking up and down the streets of Amsterdam, getting lost and finding your way again over and over as you navigated the map app on Danny’s phone. To your surprise, Jake and Josh hadn’t joined you. Just you, Sam, Danny, Lyla and Mia. It felt a little strange at first, and you felt the fifth-wheel anxiety hit you hard as you trailed behind them, the two couples happy and holding hands as you all explored. But luckily, at the last second, Dean joined you on the excursion, insisting that five of you needed an escort. 
You’d taken the time to speak to Dean and get to know him a little; he’s a big burly man with cheeks that stay red and a beard and mustache that hide his mouth. He’s middle aged, and a man of few words, but you were determined to break through his exterior just a little bit, seeing as how he is one of your coworkers. 
Now, as you all are heading back to the hotel with your arms full of various shopping bags and leftover food cart goodies, the conversation you’d worked so hard to start up with Dean is flowing freely. The two of you converse about the job, about travel, about where each of you are from and how you got hooked up with these crazy four. He’s fairly easy to talk to, and you find yourself very calm in his presence. 
“I heard about what went down at the restaurant the other night, Ms. Y/N. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he admits as you watch Lyla and Mia pull the guys into a tiny boutique.
“Oh, no need to apologize,” you respond, a little surprised, “It was no big deal, really. I made a stupid mistake by going out alone that late, I learned my lesson. Just glad Jake was able to come help me out.”
“Still, it’s one of my responsibilities to make sure everyone is safe. Mr. Jacob made it very clear that you’re on that list, too.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and pushes a few buttons before speaking again. “I’m gonna get your number right now, so you never find yourself in a situation like that again.” You nod as you agree, knowing that you should have had his number saved a long time ago. You switch phones with him as you each enter your respective numbers, and he smiles as he locks his, pushing it back into the pocket of his coat. It hits you that Jake must have had a conversation with him.
“We’ve got more security coming, I’m sure you’ve heard. They should be here within the next few days. This is usually a one man job, but… I guess as the band gets more and more popular, these kinds of things just need to naturally grow along with them,” he explains, keeping his head on a swivel as he eyes each of them inside the store. “Turns into a team effort.”
You nod, pushing your windblown hair behind your ear before shoving your freezing hand back in your pocket. “I did hear about that. Bet it brings everyone peace of mind having more hands on deck, especially you,” you offer.
“Mmhm,” he replies, “Most definitely. I’ve met these guys before, think everybody will like them. Real straightforward outfit. I’m their head of security, but with the way this group operates, they’re probably gonna be calling most of the shots, if not all of them.” He sucks his teeth, and you can’t tell if he’s irked or maybe, a little bit relieved to have the help. 
“You gonna be alright with that?” you press, hoping you’re not stepping on his toes. 
He shrugs one shoulder, and you can see his eyes darting around behind his sunglasses. “I’m only one guy, Ms. Y/N.” His response is blunt, so you decide to leave it at that. 
You take a second to browse the boutique, meeting up again with Lyla and Mia and gushing over sweaters and dresses that none of you could ever afford, and for the first time in two days, you’d gone more than half an hour without thinking about Jake. As soon as the memory of him and what happened last night flows back into your brain, you almost double over with a strange anxiety. You pull out your phone again, checking to see if he has texted at all, or added anything to the playlist, but you’re met with nothing. Nothing.
“Let’s go get a drink or something!” Mia finally suggests to the group as you congregate in front of the store on the sidewalk, and everyone agrees. “Danny baby, pull up somewhere to go.”
“Let’s just take off walking again, we passed like fifty pubs on the way here,” he argues, bursting through the group and walking down the sidewalk again. The tension feels like it has dissipated for the most part; you have to admit that at first you were still a little worried that things might be a little strange between all of you. But as soon as you all got a couple of drinks in you, the anxiety melts away, and you find yourself laughing along and fitting right in with them. The girls are really cool, and Danny and Sam together keep the conversation going with ease.
An hour or so later, you’re unlocking your hotel door and stripping the layers of clothing off as you now have gotten a little sweaty from the heat mixed with the alcohol. The sun had popped out a little, only adding to your need for a giant bottle of water, and to relax across your bed. As you scroll social media and flick through TV channels in languages you can’t understand, you find your mind drifting back to Jake again. At this point, you know he isn’t going to text. He isn’t going to call, he isn’t going to add another song. If he was going to, he would have by now. You swallow down the realization, flipping to your back to push a pillow over your face. You think about calling Ruth, but at the same time, you hardly even feel like talking about it. 
Just as you're about to scream into the void, you hear a knock at your door. Who in the world? You stand up and adjust your clothing and hair, expecting Corri or Paul to be delivering you some information in person. You unlatch the deadbolt and swing the door open, finding none other than Jake leaning with one hand on your door frame, and the other gripping a single deep burgundy flower. 
“Hey…” he mumbles, biting his lip. 
“Hey, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” you fumble over your words, not only because you hadn’t spoken all day, but because he looked so overwhelmingly delicious standing there effortlessly dripping sex in your doorway that you almost catch yourself drooling. Loose, dark slacks, a black button up revealing his chest, his hair freshly washed and still damp around the roots… His skin is still glowing from the heat of his shower, and you can smell his body wash mixed in with that damn cologne he apparently carries with him everywhere. Your eyes flick to the flower hanging loosely from his fingertips before meeting his eyes again.
“I know, I should have called first, ‘m sorry…” he stumbles, pulling his hand from his pocket and swiping it across his nose. 
“No no, it’s fine, um… did you need… you wanna come inside?” you weren’t quite sure what to offer at this point; he wouldn’t have shown up if he didn’t want to talk.
He stands up straight now, smoothing his hands over his shirt and then placing them both in his pockets. “No, actually, I came by to see if you would want to go on a walk with me,” he asks, a shyness in his tone that feels new to you. “And to bring you this.”
He extends his hand, offering you the dark red flower, multi petaled and fragrant. “Saw it earlier at a flower stand and I…I don’t know, I thought of you. Thought you should have it.”
You accept it from his fingers, bringing it to your nose to take in its earthy smell, “It’s beautiful, what is it?”
“It’s a Dahlia, I believe. The vendor said it was a Black Dahlia, but it looks dark red to me. I don’t know, I just thought it was pretty. Thought of you.” he smiles nervously. You stare at him as you twist the flower under your nose and think about his question. 
“So, a walk?” you reiterate, finding the idea both exhausting and appealing, seeing as how you had just gotten back from an extremely lengthy one with everyone else. “I really should stay in tonight, I… dunno…”
“Please?” he asks, squinting his eyes. “Just a short one, we don’t have to go far. I just– I saw something cool today, and I thought you might like to see it, too. Wanna show you…”
You huff a little as you lean your head on the edge of the open door. His eyes are pleading, and you can tell there’s more to his little plan than simply showing you something.
Maybe he wants to talk. Maybe he wants to explain things… sort it all out…
“Okay. We can go. But, I have to get dressed first,” you say, already dreading putting all those layers back on, but not feeling so bad about it because now you’ll be with him. You feel a little reluctant, the pissed-off feeling you’d had all day still lying heavily present in your mind. But, he’s making an effort, at least…
“Take your time. I’m just a floor up, 507,” he starts to back away, the tiniest satisfied grin forming on his face. His eyes travel up and down your body so fast you almost miss it. “Just come knock when you’re ready.” 
You close the door as he rounds the corner to the elevator, and you can’t help but feel that rush of nerves fly up your body again. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he came to your door. With a flower. God, what a gentleman. You place the flower on the dresser, your heart pounding at the sweet gesture. You rush into the bathroom to freshen everything up and spruce your tangled hair, brushing some powder across your face and adding a little more mascara. You re-apply your favorite perfume to your wrists and neck, taking a little extra time to make sure you looked presentable in the full-length mirror on the wall. 
When you feel as if your appearance is as good as it's gonna get, you sit on your bed, wanting to make Jake wait for you just a little bit longer. You go ahead and pull up a facetime call with Ruth, waiting for the tone to ring out. 
The screen opens with Ruth holding up one finger, mouthing for you to hang on as she finishes out what looks to be a very annoying phone call with a client. She spins in her chair as she rolls her eyes, letting her head look at the ceiling as she uses her formal, professional voice to end the call.
“...You have an excellent day, ma’am. Mhm. Thank you, Buh-bye,” she presses a button on her phone and rips her headset off, fumbling for her airpods as she picks up her phone. “Oh my GOD today has been insane and I hate everything,” she complains as you watch the screen fill up with her face, and you hear the sound of her acrylic nails tapping all over her screen. You patiently wait, watching her loudly chew her gum, knowing that she has to clear away her notifications before she can even begin to have an uninterrupted conversation with you. “Okay I’m ready what the fuck has happened?!” 
You laugh, giving her the rundown of everything that happened since you last spoke, her facial expressions letting you know she is hanging on your every word. “...And now, he just showed up at my fucking door, and asked me on a date, I guess? After basically dry humping me in the bathroom then sending me home without another word,” you finish, whispering your words as if he could hear you. “I dunno, Ruth. Should I even go?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Yes you should go. Give him a chance to explain, at least. He wouldn’t have shown up to your door if he didn’t really want you to come, ya know?” she says, immediately noticing her word choice, and slyly smiling as she bounced her eyebrows.  
“Shut the fuck up. Ugh, yeah, you’re right. Does this outfit look okay?” you stand back and flip the camera around showing her yourself in the mirror. 
“Slayyyyyyyy that jacket is hot, where on earth did you even get it?!” she rolls her eyes. 
“From you. For my birthday. When you found out I was going to a colder climate,” you laugh. “Okay, I'm gonna go, I guess. I’ll text you later.”
“Live updates, please. I want to know the way this man ticks,” she teases.
“Shut up. Bye.” You end the call and grab your purse, making sure your room key is in your bag. You also make sure to grab the jacket Jake sent you home in last night, not able to bear another second staring at it draped across the back of the chair. 
“Thought you might want this back,” you say when Jake opens the door, taking the coat from your outstretched hand.
He smirks as he takes it, tossing it behind him to land on some unknown surface. “Looks better on you, but it’s one of only three jackets I brought with me.” You both laugh a little as you make your way down the hall and to the elevator. The whole ride down is silent, with both of you standing at opposite sides, more or less feeling no shame in drinking the other in. His arms and ankles are crossed as the elevator descends, and you can feel his eyes boring into you. 
“You look really nice today,” he offers as you exit the lobby and head back out into the freezing cold air. 
“Thank you,” you reply shyly, feeling the blush creep to your cheeks. “So do you…” you wanted to gush about how perfectly his hair is sitting around his face, how his shirt and jacket are hanging across his shoulders, how poised he just always seems to be without even trying… but you don’t. You hope to god you don’t run into any of his brothers, or anyone that you work with; coming up with an explanation why the two of you are out alone together again is something you truly don’t feel like dealing with right now. “So where are we going?”
“It’s called The Jordaan. It’s a really old neighborhood, with a canal going through the center. Bunch of little shops and stuff. Did you guys walk this way this morning?” you notice the lilt in his voice. 
You shake your head. “No, we went the opposite way,” you answer. It’s quiet for just a minute more as you pass by the crowds and other people on the streets. “Why didn’t you and Josh come along?”
He takes a quick breath. “Eh, we didn’t really receive an invite, honestly,” he laughs, stroking his fingers over his mustache. “Had to be Lyla or Mia’s idea to go, if I had to guess.” He was right, but you still felt bad. “But it was okay, me and Josh went to eat and got to… talk a little without the interruption of the other two. Kinda rare these days,” he smiles, and his knuckles brush across yours just barely. The light touch sends your bloodstream to a raging fire, and you have to stifle down the pull to grab his hand altogether. 
The sun is peeking through the heavy cloud cover of the evening, and you find yourself staring at the way Jake’s pulled his sunglasses to sit on top of his head, letting the gleam of the sunlight bounce into his mocha colored irises. He looks you in the eye each and every time he speaks, and commands your complete attention away from everything else around you. You’re pulled into him, letting your bodies barely touch and move together as you walk along. This attraction feels different than the heated, blurry, intense pull you had to one another last night. This feels innocent, even though you both know that it’s anything but. 
You turn a corner as you come along to the long line of homes and buildings, multicolored and old in their exteriors but, still holding just the right amount of charm to be an attraction. You catch yourself looking above to see the craftsmanship of them. “Wow…” you exclaim quietly as you peer up at the finely detailed architecture, staring in awe at the shape they are still in. You pull your phone from your pocket and start to take photos, zooming in on the details and making a mental note to send them straight to Ruth later. 
You walk up onto a little footbridge lined with parked bikes and people stopped to take photos. Suddenly Jake is behind you, barely resting his chin on your shoulder. “Gimme your phone, let me take your picture,” he murmurs in your ear. 
“Oh no, that’s okay…” Before the words can even escape your lips, he’s snatched your phone and started backing up, glancing behind him and back to your phone every few seconds. 
“You’re really good at taking my phone away and doing whatever you want with it, you know!” you yell at him in aggravation. 
He motions his free hand for you to scoot sideways, and then again for you to stop where you are. He snaps a few, turning the phone on its side to get every angle he can. You stand a bit awkwardly, hating that people are having to stop when they notice they are walking in line of the photo. Finally he finishes and rushes back over to you. “They look good! See?” he says, handing your phone back and swiping through them with you. “Now you’ll have record.”
You walk past a few secondhand shops and stores, and suddenly, something in one of the windows catches your eye. “Oh my god, look at that!” you squeal, pointing to a glimmering red dress sitting perfectly on a mannequin. It isn’t like any dress you’d seen before; it looks vintage, bright cherry red velvet with sewn-in sequins weaved throughout. It’s tight, but not too tight, and short and lacking fabric in all the right places. 
“Damn, you should go try it on!” Jake exclaims, obviously agreeing with your surprise at how pretty it is. 
“Nah, I shouldn’t…” you say, walking away from the window. 
“No, you should, actually. That dress is hot, Y/N,” he says, elbowing you in the ribs. “And I think you’d make it a hundred times hotter.”
You scoff. “Be quiet, no I would not.”
“Prove me wrong, then,” he challenges with a smirk, opening the door to the shop, and holding his hand out to invite you inside. 
You step inside, and are immediately greeted by a man dressed in a formal tuxedo. He notices that you are not local during his greeting, and switches to rough English.
“Eyeballing the red number, are you madam? Give me one second, I’ll grab it off the mannequin for you,” you and Jake lock eyes as the man flits away, straight for the window. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation and gives you a grin so adorable you almost melt into putty right there in the store. 
“Here you are ma’am, please, be careful, very old dress,” he explains, handing you the dress on a hanger and opening a curtain for you to go behind. 
“Go ahead,” Jake mouths, pushing you into the small dressing room. 
You stand almost naked in front of the mirror as you slip the soft, tight fabric over your thighs, your stomach, and finally over your shoulders. Jake was right, it fits you perfectly. The velvet material snatches your waist and bust, and cuts right above your knee. Its sequins shimmer in the overhead light, but aren’t so overwhelming that it looks showy. It’s something you could dress up, or dress down. You reach behind you and pull the zipper up only halfway. Of course.
You take a deep breath and pull the curtain back, finding Jake to have taken a seat on a plush maroon ottoman. His jaw drops as you walk toward him, and yet again, you feel the heat rise in your face. You continue walking toward him, turning at the last second with your back to him, pulling your hair to the side. “Finish doing me up?” you say, immediately realizing that could be taken in a way you didn’t really mean. But also kind of mean, if you’re being honest. 
You hear him swallow and he stands, and feel his warm hand slowly grip the zipper and pull it up, his other hand resting gently on the back of your hip, this thumb barely squeezing at the muscle. He takes his time, moving the zipper at the slowest pace imaginable. “Everything alright back there?” you whisper over your shoulder, hearing your own voice tremble. 
You hear the air push from his nose as he leans in a little closer. “Just taking my time… might be the only time I get to touch you this way…”
Your eyelids flutter closed at his words. You lick your lips, trying to calm your second heartbeat. “What makes you think this will be the only time?”
He finishes the zip, spinning you to turn and face him. He shrugs one shoulder. “Just don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he growls. “Take that as a compliment…if you wear that out in public, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the hordes of guys that would be following you around.”
You scoff at him, and the absolute absurdity of his statement. He has no idea how pretty he is, does he?
“Shh. That’s a lie,” you say as you turn back and motion for him to unzip you. He does, this time with a little more haste. You make your way back into the dressing room and switch back into your clothing, hanging the beautiful specimen back on the hanger the man had provided you with. 
“What? You’re not getting it?!” Jake stands as you make your way back toward the employee.
“No, Jake! I can’t buy that! It’s too–”
“Perfect? Because you looked… I–I can’t even explain… You have to get it, Y/N,” he argues.
You hand the dress back to the man in the suit. “No. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to wear something like that…” you go on, internally screaming at how badly you really would like to have it. 
“Let me get it for you, then,” Jake says. “It’s not even that expensive…”
“NO!” you squeal. “I mean, no thank you. Please, Jake. It’s completely fine,” you say as you begin to walk toward the exit. You simply could not let him buy this for you. No. Huh-uh. Absolutely the hell not. 
He reluctantly follows you out of the store, still playfully going on and on about how you just made a huge mistake. You turn and face him, your face only inches from his. You grab both of his hands in yours, snickering a little at the surprised look on his face. “Jake, I appreciate the compliments, but I’d really like to get on with our date, now.”
JAKE POV
Her words send a shockwave through your system. “Date? So it’s a date now?” you ask, your hands cupped in hers as he looks you in the eyes. 
She turns and begins walking again, and you have to physically tell yourself to move your legs and follow along. “You came to my door, asked me to go on a walk because you wanted to show me a certain specific special thing… now we’re exploring and talking and trying on dresses, I’d qualify this as a date,” she turns and gives you a teasing look of intrigue. “Just missing the food part, but I think it would still count.” 
A smile comes to your lips as you realize she’s right. “You hungry?” you ask, finally catching up with her. 
“No, I’m just kidding. Let’s go down to the riverside,” she points a little ways away, seeing that there is a sidewalk that runs alongside the water. 
You stuff your hands in your pockets as you trudge along, the two of you taking in the scenery and the water beside you. The air is still blowing cold, but neither of you seem to mind. “So if we’re gonna qualify this as a date, maybe we should get to know each other a little better,” you suggest, earning a scoff from her. 
“Seems a little backwards seeing as how we kinda already–”
“I know, I know,” you laugh. “Um, let’s see. Did you play any sports in school?” you ask. 
“I played volleyball all four years, golfed with my dad on the weekends sometimes when he was around… Other than that, not really,” she explains.
“Shit, don’t tell Danny you like golf,” you go on. “He’ll capture you in a week-long conversation and then ask you to go play a round in every country we visit,” you laugh. 
“Ummm, what’s your favorite holiday? And you can’t pick Christmas…” she says, pushing her pointer finger into your shoulder. 
“Hmm, so, I think it’s a tie between the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, because in July we’re always out of the country somewhere really beautiful, or we’re all at home blowing shit up together. I’m always really happy that time of year. And then Thanksgiving, because I will eat the fuck out of mashed potatoes any chance I get,” you say. 
She laughs again, the sounds of her voice making your insides warm. “Your answer was better than mine!” 
“Let’s see… What's your best friend’s name?” Noticing that she hasn’t really mentioned anyone.
“My best friend’s name is Ruth, we’ve been friends since elementary school. She’s… a complete idiot,” she laughs. “We still talk pretty much daily about anything and everything,” she explains. “Don’t have any secrets.”
“Oh so, she’s… getting the rundown of your whole European adventure in real time, isn't she?” you ask, wondering if she had been giving her a play by play of the whirlwind last few days you'd shared together. 
She purses her lips and squints her eyes as her hand brushes past yours. “Guess you could say that…”
“Damn!” you laugh, feeling embarrassed. “Don’t tell me you included our bar bathroom escapade…”
Suddenly she’s tripping over her words. “I mean... No! I told her a little but like, not details or anything ya know, but she…I–” 
“So she knows we almost hooked up but thankfully stopped just in time that my brother didn’t catch things getting too out of hand…” you say confidently, wanting to see the blush rush her cheeks again. 
She stops, standing stiff in her place. “Okay, Jake. Caught me. Sue me, shit.”
You continue walking, pulling her along by the hand. “I’m kidding, I don’t care. I hope to meet her one day.”
She looks at you from the side of her eye, “I hope you do, too. Okay, who’s your best friend?”
“You really want me to answer that?” You’re surprised she can’t already tell. “I’ve got three built right in. All three pains in my ass but I love ‘em.”
“How sweet, Jake. Man, you do have a heart under there, somewhere!” she teases. 
“Of course I do baby, I’m actually a sweetheart, didn’t you know?” you respond in a very piratical voice. “Alright, favorite music genre. This is the big one, answer carefully…”
“Ahhh, well…” she looks to the ground, truly contemplating her answer. “You already know the Alt-J stuff you added was way out of my normal choice, I actually listen to um, a lot of harder stuff, I guess you could say. Some metal, hard rock, also older country, some psych stuff. It runs the whole gambit,” she laughs, seeming like she was shy to admit it all. 
“Wow,” you say. “So like, almost the exact opposite of what we’re into.”
“Kind of, I mean it probably overlaps… I love the stuff you’ve added to the list. And I’m sure there’s a few classic dad rock songs you like, don’t lie…” she smiles. 
“Ehhh,” you argue, “Maybe a few…” you feel a sudden slight disappointment in the fact that the two of you probably will not be able to talk music much. But, that’s okay…
“Me and my dad used to go to rock shows a lot when I was a kid. I’ve seen all the country greats a few times a piece. Just something about that sound, you know? Reminds me of home, it’s very nostalgic… I’m sorry, I’m rambling…” she says, brushing the hair from her face as you find yourself enraptured in her words. 
“No, no… it’s okay, ramble on…”
Light bulb. 
You sneakily pull your phone from your pocket, adding that very song to the playlist, hoping she won't notice right off the bat, but hoping she will understand soon that you would listen to her ramble all day long. As she continues to talk, you can’t help but notice all the ways that she is so different from Isla. Like night and day. She listens to you when you speak, she doesn’t ever come at you with condescending words unless she’s being playful, she is sure of herself, and confident…and gives you that feeling down deep in your gut that tells you she’s something special. Though you’ve only known her a few days, it’s already obvious that she offers every single thing that Isla doesn’t, never has, and most likely never will. Instead of the uneasy, walking on eggshells feeling that you have everytime you’re with Isla, you get the confident, self-assured and joyful feeling in Y/N’s presence. And something is telling you to hold onto it. 
Speaking of Isla… you really need to tell Y/N about her. It’s only right. It isn’t fair to her that she doesn’t have a clue, you wouldn’t have wanted to be left in the dark if the roles were reversed. You swallow, opening your mouth to start the conversation without having a clue where to even begin. But your thoughts are interrupted by Y/N’s sweet voice bringing you back down to earth again. 
“I know you bargained for a short walk, but what if we went up there to that little pub and see what they have to offer?” she asks, smiling a toothy grin.
Maybe the time isn’t now…
“Lead the way, love.”
HER POV
Warm. Everything is just so warm. Your body, your face, his smile. Warm. The room is a dull hum of noise around you, your world growing still as he sits in front of you. You watch him in wonder as he talks about music and his passions, your face propped up on your fist. You know you must look positively smitten, and to be honest you kind of are. The two of you are giggling back and forth, even though nothing is really that funny. But that was the beauty of it. You can tell you are blinking slowly and try to reign it in as the nearly half a liter of beer swirls through your bloodstream. You can’t help but smile at him while he talks, his eyes locked on yours as a smile stretches across his own face. 
You wonder how he is even able to hold a conversation right now, your brain reduced to mush as you continue to sip on your beer. He’s happy, you can tell, a dimple has appeared in his cheek and hasn’t left in nearly an hour. You can’t stop looking at it, at him. Everything about him. The twinkle lights over head have cast a perfect yellow glow on his tan skin, just as the sun starts to dip down below the river the two of you walked here from.
“You still with me, beautiful?” he asks, his knuckles brushing against yours. 
“I’m here, but barely.” you laugh, “Why aren’t you feeling the alcohol yet?” you tease, taking a rather large gulp of your beer.  You know he definitely has a higher tolerance than you do, but you can tell he is a little more smiley than usual. You place the large glass tankard back on the table as he stares at you, his eyes wide and sparkling. 
“What?” you ask, feeling a bit bashful in your drunken state. 
“You’re just…so– you’re just really pretty and it makes me feel, I don’t know, shy I guess,” he answers truthfully, biting his lips together nervously. 
You feel your chest burst into flames, the heat radiating up your face to your already flushed cheeks. 
“I like it when you blush,” he breathes, which of course makes you blush harder. “Like it best when it’s because of me.”
You feel all of your nervousness and anxiety melting away as he looks at you, and suddenly with the help of the beer, you feel brave enough to ask the question that has been on your mind all day. 
“Jake?”
He nods his head ever so slightly, letting his fingertips drift across your knuckles. 
“Why didn’t you answer? My song, how come you didn’t say anything?” you ask, swallowing down your last bit of nervousness. 
He drops his head a little, grabbing your hand in his, letting his thumb skate across your skin. “I searched and searched for a song that I could respond with last night. One that would articulate what I wanted to say, but I just…I couldn’t find one. I felt like absolute shit after you left, Y/N. Really, I did. I fell asleep with that damn song on replay until my alarm went off this morning. It got in my head, and that’s when I decided I wanted to go on this walk today. Make it up to you.”
You stare at him for just a second, letting a smile slowly creep to your lips. He notices and you watch him as he visibly relaxes. He was nervous, too. 
His eyes are locked on yours, both of you saying a thousand things with zero words. You let his words sink in, storing away each one until your heart feels a little bit lighter. 
“Well, you better think of a good one tonight,” you tease, rubbing your thumb against his. 
His phone buzzes on the table top, his eyes flashing down to it, then to you in panic. 
“It’s fine,” you nod, gesturing for him to grab it. “I don’t mind, really.”
He picks it up and clears his throat, the loss of his hand from yours stings a little but you know he will do it again. 
“From Josh,” he starts reading the message out loud, “Where are you? I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.”
He smiles and laughs as his thumbs type back a response. 
“Oh, another one,” he pauses, “We’re meeting up for dinner, just the guys, in an hour.”
His face drops a little, his eyes looking across the table to you. He locks his phone and sets it back on the table, his hand seeking yours out again. 
“We should probably get going if you’re gonna make it back in time,” you offer, taking another sip of your beer. 
He lets out a painful sigh, “I don’t really want to. I want to stay out…with you. I see them all the time.”
“No, no, no, you’re in Amsterdam with your brothers. They want to see you. Don’t change your plans around for me,” you insist. 
He looks conflicted, you can tell he really does want to stay here with you, but he also knows he needs to meet up with them. 
“Well, what about you? What will you do?” he asks, tracing his index finger around your hand. 
You smile and shake your head, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll probably just go back to my room and do whatever it was I was going to do before you knocked on the door.”
He smiles and nods, licking his lips before speaking again, “If you’re sure, this is supposed to be me making it up to you for leaving you last night, now I seem to be doing it again.”
“Wanna know a secret?” 
He raises his eyebrows in question, ready to hear your answer.
“I forgave you for that about two minutes into our walk,” you smile, squeezing his hand in yours. 
He walks with you back to the hotel, his hand never leaving yours for a second. His grip is firm and warm, everything you ever dreamed of. You talk about the shops and the sights, and he tries again to convince you to buy that dress, bartering that he was going to have to go back and buy it himself if you refused. 
As you step up to the hotel door you pause, turning and looking at him in the glow of the streetlights. “You don’t have to walk me all the way up, I think I can find it.” you tease. 
“Alright, well, um, can I text you?” he asks, his tone reverting back to that of a nervous fifteen year old boy. 
You feel the butterflies taking flight in your stomach, flapping their wings so hard you feel like you might take off with them. “Yeah, you can text me whenever you want to.”
A huge smile spreads across his face, “Yeah, alright, cool. I’ll um, I’ll text you then.”
“I’ll be waiting,” you answer, watching him stifle back his smile as he steps back a bit, bringing your hand to his lips. He places a soft and gentle kiss to the top of your hand, his cold lips barely grazing your skin, and sending a jolt of electricity through you. 
“Won’t be long,” he smiles, stepping away and turning to head back down the street. 
JAKE POV
You follow the walk route to the pin that Josh had dropped, finding yourself at a tiny pub down a back alleyway of a street. The place is crowded and warm, ambient lights with the damp smell of cigars lingering in the air. You mosy through the crowd, hoping that no one recognizes you and stops you for a drunken conversation or autograph. 
Luckily it doesn’t happen, and you find Danny, Sam, and Josh tucked away at a high-top table in the corner. “There he is! Took you long enough!” Danny yells over the loud crowd, the first one of them to spot you. 
The other two turn to face you, pulling your stool out for you to take. “Your beer is probably warm, now…sorry,” Sam says, pointing to yet another giant mug of beer, just the same as the one you’d just finished off. 
“Fuck, thanks…” you say, tiptoeing to hop up onto the high stool. You simply can’t help the shit-eating grin that’s plastered across your face, even with all the maximum effort you have left in you. You take a large sip, finding the beer to still be fairly cold. 
“Where have you been already today? You look flushed and far too jovial…” Josh presses, rubbing his hands together with his elbows resting on the table. 
“Cold outside,” you say, shooting him a look. 
The bullshitting and argumentative discussions commence as everyone obviously begins to feel their alcohol, and you take the distracted time out to text Y/N, letting her know you made it safely. 
You
9:18PM: I’m here, but already wishing I never left
You attach a quick photo of your giant beer, and include the eye-rolling emoji.
Y/N
9:20PM: omg 😂 good luck choking another one down
You
9:21PM: Ye have little faith 🍺 
A minute later you receive a photo of her room service sprawled out across the bed in front of her, chicken fingers and fries and some type of dipping sauce. You smirk at how cute she probably looks in whatever outfit she chose to get comfy in, and wonder what she looks like. You notice the TV in the background, and recognize the movie that she has playing. 
You
9:24PM: Looks tasty
9:24PM: Damn, is that Wedding Crashers?
Y/N
9:25PM: Yes, I fucking love this movie
You run your hand over your face. 
You
9:26PM: That sucks, I quite literally can’t stand that movie 
Y/N:
9:26PM: 😱😱😱😱😱😱
9:26PM: You’re insane, this is one of my favorite movies of all time! Why do you hate it!
You
9:27PM: Dunno, not a sucker for cheap comedy I suppose
You’re interrupted by Sam’s snapping fingers in your face. “Hellooooo, Jake, you with us? Tell Isla to leave you the fuck alone, it’s guys’ night!” 
You feel your eyes widen at his comment and glance at Josh, who is mirroring your exact expression behind his folded hands. 
“Uh, sorry, sorry yeah.” You put your phone down on the table and try your best to be present with them, getting caught up in your normal absurd conversation. Your phone continues to light up and buzz on the table. 
“You gonna get that?” Josh asks slowly and quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. You ignore him, finishing off the last bit of your beer that went down exceptionally quicker than you thought it would. Everyone is sufficiently intoxicated, and you have to admit, you’re having a really great time letting loose. The drinks are flowing, and the air is high-spirited all the way around. Danny is taking funny videos of Sam and Josh as they try their hand at some type of trick with a coin and a bottle cap, so you take the second to check your phone again. But what you see brings your serotonin level down just a notch. 
Isla
10:12PM: Hey, what’s up?
10:27PM: Why aren’t you answering me babe :(
10:29PM: I miss youuuuu, you never called back last night
10:33PM: Saw Danny’s close friends story, glad to see you having fun ignoring my texts! 👋🏼
10:37PM: Can you accept my location request
10:42PM: I can see your phone in front of you Jake
You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet oh…my…god, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. 
“What’s up?” Josh asks, and you turn your phone for him to see. His eyes instantly widen as he reads. 
“This…is the shit I’ve dealt with for the last three years. I can’t—” you cut yourself off, feeling your jaw clenching with aggravation. 
Josh settles back in his chair. “Fuck, I had no idea…”
“What, what is it?” Sam and Danny basically simultaneously ask, seeing the disdain falling over the both of you at the same time. 
“Nothin’, just a sad video,” Josh lies. 
You decide to let Isla’s antics roll off your shoulders; you’re having too good of a night to let her whining bring you down. Things with Y/N are starting to heat up, and you find your tipsy self teetering on the edge of risk. You pull her texts up again, finding that she had responded a while ago.
Y/N
9:30PM: You’re crazy, this movie is fuckin hilarious
You decide to change up the game a bit, adding a song that reflects exactly how you’re feeling right now. You scroll through your library and land on it, bringing up the option to add it to your shared playlist. It’s perfect, ‘In the Mood For You’ by The Record Company. 
She responds with a text a minute later, a string of five or six laughing emojis. You’re then met with a song addition on her end, ‘Are You Sure?’ by Willie Nelson. 
Holy shit holy shit. You feel your stomach get warm and your head starts to swim at the thought of where this could go, where you want it to go. You take a deep breath as the excitement builds in your system, and you can physically feel your body getting warm. You want to scream. Your eyes begin to cross a little as your thumbs hover over the screen, flicking around as you decide what to do. 
The next thing you know, Sam is setting another beer in front of your face, this one thankfully much, much smaller than the other one you had just finished off. Mother fucker...Gonna be very drunk.
You decide to skip out on a text, keeping this little game the two of you have going. You pull up the song search, adding ‘No One Else’ by Weezer. Perfect. 
Seconds later, you receive a text. 
Y/N
10:56PM: I’ll think about it…….
You feel your cheeks grow pink. 
Just then another comes through from Isla. 
Isla
10:57PM: Ignoring me isn’t going to fix anything, Jacob.
You scoff, shaking your head. You turn the phone to Josh again. 
“God, block her fucking number. I’m so serious,” his voice raises a little, laced with a protective tone. 
You ignore it, flipping back over to your texts with Y/N, suddenly feeling emboldened. 
You
10:59PM: Think about what, exactly? 
You lick your lips as you set the phone down, glancing around to see no one paying attention to you all up in your phone again. A minute later, you receive a photo. You click the message and watch as the attachment comes to life. 
It’s a selfie of Y/N sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a barely-there black silk pajama set, with the object of the photo obviously the empty side of the bed behind her. 
Y/N
11:01PM: You, here.
Son of a fucking bitch, she is gonna be the death of you. You pull your phone up so no one can see the picture, and you take a second to stare at her soft skin in the silk material, her hair a little messy but lying perfectly. She’s smiling just a little, and the dim light is bouncing off her features in all the right areas. 
You
11:03PM: Absolutely stunning
11:03PM: Are YOU sure?
Your heart is positively racing, watching as her text bubble pops up. 
Y/N
11:04PM: Only if you want to…
As the breath hitches in your throat as you’ve quite literally forgotten how to breathe, you take a second more, starting in on the beer Sam had provided. You lock your phone, trying to make up your mind of how to answer. What to do, what to do…
You finally decide to reply with a bold text. 
You
11:06PM: I think I can make that happen…😉
11:06PM: We shouldn’t be much longer
You get dragged back into conversation with the guys, and fifteen or so minutes later, everyone is gearing up to leave. You glance down at your phone a few minutes later, seeing that she hasn’t responded. Weird. 
Everyone stands to leave, and the alcohol hits you in the face. Yeah, pretty fairly intoxicated. You exit the building, feeling someone standing behind, close by. You turn to see Dean bringing up the rear of the group. “Whoa, where did you come from you scary motherfucker?” you tease, earning a big, warm smile from him.
“Been sitting at the bar all evening, Mr. Jake,” he responds, pointing for you to catch up with the rest of them. 
You rest a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re really good at your job, Dean. I never even knew you were there, should have come and had a drink with us.” You feel your words slurring a bit. Just then, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket incessantly. 
“I wet my whistle with a shot of Jameson as soon as we got there, water the rest of the night,” he replies without looking at you. You laugh and step to the side a bit, pulling your phone out to see Isla calling. Fucking son of a bitch. You slide to answer it. 
“What, Isla? Fuck!” your tone is a bit more harsh than you had expected, but warranted nonetheless. 
Then, all you can hear on the other line is a rush of screams and yells, her voice loud and her words cramming as she lets you know how she feels. You pull the phone away from your ear, holding it there until you find a chance to speak again. 
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, can you–”
Her screams continue, and you realize exactly how this is going to go. How it’s gone hundreds of times before. She’s not gonna let you speak. And honestly, you’re too intoxicated to talk, anyway. You set it to speakerphone as Josh falls back to walk with you. You shake your head as you allow your twin to listen to her incessant rambling. “You hear this shit?” you mumble. The two of you listen for a second more before you realize you can’t do it anymore. 
“Isla, I’m hanging the phone up. Call me when you can have a mature conversation. Bye.” You don’t even wait for her to retaliate before pressing the big red button. In a huff, you bring up your text thread to see if Y/N has responded. Like the gods of divine intervention decided to reign down their bad luck upon you, you find that you had in fact sent those last two risky texts, to Isla.
“FUCK!” you yell, stopping in your tracks, hitting your palm to your forehead. “Fuck fuck fuck!” How could you have been so stupid?! Of course she had a reason to call and yell at you…
Your fingers move to Y/N’s thread, and you see that you were the one who had left her on read. You’re in the lobby of the hotel now, and everyone is dispersing to head to the elevator or down the halls to their respective rooms. You snap away for a second to tell them goodnight, before deciding to take the stairs up to your room. You needed a second, and to work off some of your drunkenness. 
You finally pop into your room, feeling completely idiotic for accidentally sending the right text to the wrong number. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping it will bring you back to earth a little bit, but finding it to have only made your splotchy face and tinted cheeks worse. You brush your teeth and take a piss, finally settling on the edge of your bed to think. 
Fuck it, you finally decide, bringing up your texts with Y/N once more. 
You
11:47PM: I think I can make that happen…
Surprisingly, she responds within the minute.
Y/N
11:47PM: Hey. Thought you had found someone else to sneak away to the bathroom…
Your nerves flush up all over again. We’re still in the clear.
You
11:48PM: Don’t be crazy fledgling. I’m finding you in 5 minutes. 
HER POV
Five minutes? Five minutes!  You stare at the screen for a few seconds before your brain starts to work again, giving you a mile long to-do list before he knocks on the door. 
“What!? What! What does it say?! Hello! Why do you look panicked!?” Ruth asks from the other end of the phone. 
“Oh my god, he’s coming to my room. Right now, he’s on his way right this second, holy shit I have to– I have to clean up! I need to brush my teeth, brush my hair? Shit, I can’t be wearing this! Oh my god, shit I do not have enough time!” you screech, tearing across the hotel room to clean up the best that you can. 
“Focus on yourself first! He doesn’t care about your messy room! Put on some deodorant for the love of god! Did you shave your legs today?! Wait, did you end up bringing that little black sleep set thing we found?” she asks, trying to help you prioritize. 
“Yes! I’m wearing it stupid! Can you not see me?!” you shout, the clocking continuing to tick by. 
“Fuck off, it’s blurry! Okay just go brush your teeth, brush your hair, deodorant, then let's work on the room. Hurry up!” 
You run into the bathroom, applying deodorant as quickly as possible and checking your legs for stubble. “I shaved this morning, but I think it’s fine.”
“Did you shave…everything?!” she asks, just as panicked as you are. 
“Yeah, thank god!” you answer, wetting your toothbrush. 
“Okay, game plan, keep brushing, just listen. He’s into you, you’re into him. He’s been flirting with you all night. He wants you babe, and if it were me? Well, I’d do it. I know what you’re gonna say, ‘Ruthie, I can’t give it up on the first date’, blah blah blah, I don’t care, fuck the police. He’s hot, you’re hot, you’re in Europe, and if you don’t sex that man tonight, you might not get the chance to again.” she lectures, giving you a stern look.
You spit your toothpaste into the sink, wiping your mouth and grabbing for your hair brush. You run it quickly through your hair as she continues. “God, I have got to know what this man is like in the bedroom. I am so living through you right now. I expect every detail first thing in the morning. Not noon, not three, morning.”
You grab your perfume from the bathroom counter and hold it up to the camera, “Should I, or too much?”
“Yes, you should, obviously! But don’t overdo it!” she yelps back. You spray the perfume onto your wrists, careful not to spray too much. 
“Alright, I feel better, but do you think I should change? Honestly, I feel so…”
“What? Hot, sexy? Drop dead gorgeous? Didn’t have a problem with it when you sent that picture earlier, what's different now?” she asks. 
“Well, nothing I guess, I just… He will see me in person. You can see my nipples!” you admit.
“I think he’s gonna see a lot more than your nipples tonight babe, that’s just the appetizer.” she laughs, crunching the ice from her drink. 
“Oh my god you are so gross, okay, fine. I just need to clean up the room and little and–”
A knock at the door renders you both silent. You mouth the words ‘oh my god’, as she laughs silently. 
“I’ll call you later,” you whisper, quickly ending the call and tossing your phone onto the dresser. You take a deep breath and smooth your hands over the black satin tank top, pushing your boobs up, but letting out a defeated sigh when they drop back into place. She better be right about this. 
You blow out a calming breath as you make your way towards the door, twisting the handle and pulling the door open. Leaning against your door frame you find Jake, cheeks flushed and somehow looking even better than he did this afternoon. He’s in the same clothes, and his hair is windblown, but there is something different about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you file it away for later. 
You purse your lips in a smirk, “You said five minutes.”
He smiles and nods, “I did, but I had to make a pit stop.”
“What for?” you ask, a playful tone to your voice. 
You watch his eyes flick down to take in your appearance, his chest growing as he sucks in a deep breath, “Oh, you know…had to get something,” he pauses, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Did you make up your mind?”
You bite your lips together as you open the door a little wider, “Mmm, I thought about it…”
He steps forward, his foot on the threshold, “And?”
You instantly reach for his shirt, pulling him into the room and crashing your lips into his. He immediately takes control, leading you backwards and kicking the door shut with his foot. His hands have found your waist, sliding beneath the silky fabric of your top and gripping into your skin. He backs you into a wall, letting his warm lips drag across your jaw as his hands continue to explore the soft skin of your stomach. It’s not long before his lips are back on yours, the taste of alcohol still lingering on his tongue. 
His knee slides between your legs, parting them just enough to be able to press himself closer to you. Your arms lace around his neck, your hands tangling into his soft hair, as his hips press into yours. The sound of your lips on his is wet and desperate, the two of you devouring each other where you stand. His tongue slides into your mouth in search of yours, the two of you quickly picking up where you last left off. 
You can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket as it presses against your leg, an incessant buzz that drags your attention away from his lips. 
“You wanna get that?” you ask, whispering against his lips. 
“No,” he growls, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Probably the groupchat, I’m tired of them interrupting.”
He pulls the two of you from against the wall, walking you backwards towards the bed as his lips pepper kisses up and down your jaw. He tosses you down towards the bed, the fluffy white sheets pooling around your body. His eyes are hazy as he looks down at you, his cheeks still red from what you thought was the cold, but now know is the alcohol flowing through his system. His chest is heaving as he stares down at you, taking in every single inch of your body. You can feel the primal need radiating from him, and you remind yourself to thank Ruth for not letting your change into something else. 
You can hear that his phone is still buzzing, and with a huff of aggravation he pulls it from his pocket and taps on the screen a few times before throwing it onto the nightstand. He drops to his hands, hovering over you as his shirt hangs from his body. You keep your eyes locked on his as you unbutton the buttons, letting your hands run up his stomach and over his chest. 
His lips drop back down to yours, this kiss a little slower and a little more intentional, you can feel that he wants you, and you hope he can tell that you want him just the same. He hums against your lips, the evidence of his need starting to show through in his voice. You let your hands push the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders and he assists by tossing it to the floor. His necklaces hang between the two of you, the pendants cold as they rest against your chest. 
His hand comes up to swipe at the thin strap of your tank top, pulling it delicately over your shoulder while letting his eyes meet yours. You nod your head just enough to give him permission, letting him repeat the action with the other side. 
He brings his palm to rest on the side of your neck, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin before he drags his palm down your body, pushing the soft black fabric down your chest. 
“This what you wanted?” he hums, dragging his fingertips over your sternum. “When you sent me that little picture? Wanted to get me all worked up thinking about you in this? Thinking about you, out of this?”
Your nipples harden just at the sound of his voice, deep and rich, a gentle slur from the alcohol. He is pure sex as you look up from beneath him.
“Might’ve been…” you answer, biting your bottom lip nervously. 
“Don’t do that,” he says, pulling your lip with his thumb. “Own it. Take what you want.”
A smirk is planted on his lips, his hair hanging around his face as he looks down at you. You decide to do exactly what he says, reaching down to the hem of your top and pulling it up and over your shoulders. His eyes drop down to your chest, now completely exposed to him, the lust almost visible in his dark eyes.
“Shit…” he breathes, his tongue wetting his lips.
He slots his knee between your legs, crawling forward a little bit more and dropping down to his elbows over top of you. His lips connect with your chest, sucking a long wet kiss into the roundness of the skin. You squirm beneath him, the feeling of his lips on your body more than you can handle in the moment. He drags his lips down your body, stopping as he meets the hem of your shorts. 
“Smell so fucking good…You’re so soft, everywhere… Have half a mind to have you like this,” he pants, pressing his lips to your skin again.
“Come back,” you plead, needing to feel his lips on yours.
He moves quickly, grabbing your face with his hand and pressing his lips to yours. You reach between the two of you, your hand unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning the button on his pants. He groans as your hand slips into the waistband of his boxers, gently grazing the stubbly trimmed hair at his base. His eyes flick open to meet yours, almost as if he is surprised you’re doing what he told you to do. You stare at him, waiting for him to tell you to stop, but he doesn’t. You have the answer you need. 
You press further, reaching for him, but surprisingly finding him still mostly soft. His eyes widen a little, and his head drops just a touch. You can tell he knows, and it’s caught him a little off guard. 
You decide to take matters into your own hands, smiling back at him, “Roll over.”
He looks up, a small grin on his lips as he rolls to his back, landing in the empty spot you photographed earlier. You move to place yourself between his legs, reaching for the top of his pants and pulling them and his boxers down over his legs. He kicks them off and you toss them to the floor, taking in the sight of him completely naked in front of you. His chest is heaving as he looks at you, a grin on his shiny pink lips as he watches you slide your hands up his thighs. 
“I know I already told you this, but you’re so fucking pretty I can’t seem to think straight.”
You can feel your cheeks grow hot, the way he’s looking at you and the words falling from his mouth have your heart pumping harder than it has in years. 
“And god when you blush like that, fuck…”
You crawl forward a bit more, positioning yourself over him to straddle his waist. You lower yourself to a sitting position, letting him guide your hips to rest your body weight where he wants it. His hands grip into your hips, sliding under the silky fabric still covering your lower half. His thumbs rub circles into your hip bones, your hips rolling on their own accord against his. A hum leaves his chest as his eyes flutter closed, clearly enjoying his view and the feeling of you beneath his hands. 
You reach for his hand, grabbing his wrist and guiding his palm to rest over your chest, letting his fingers grip into the soft fullness beneath it. He palms at your breast as you continue to rock your hips over his. His mouth opens just a bit as he focuses on you, slowly bringing his other hand to rest over your other breast. His grip is firm and warm, not too rough. A hum of pleasure leaves his lips every few seconds as he drinks in the moment, but still yet he is considerably soft beneath you. 
You lean forward into his hands, letting your lips brush against his neck, your tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe up the column of his neck. His grip tightens and his hips buck upward into yours. You’ve got him where you want him now. 
You pull away from him, moving backwards on the bed until you are hovering right above his dick. Your eyes flick to his, dark and boiling over with want as you lower your face closer to him. You grab him in your hand, feeling that he is still not truly hard enough to do anything with, but you still had a few more ideas yet. 
“Can I?” you breathe, whispering the words against his soft pink tip. You bat your eyes at him, “Please?”
You watch his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart rate sky high as he watches you. “Been dreaming about it.”
You let your tongue glide over his tip, warm against your mouth as your eyes stay locked on his. You wrap your fist around his base and let your mouth sink down over him, running your tongue up the underside of his shaft. You can’t help but wonder why he isn’t rock hard at this point, his body giving you every single cue that he wants you, apart from this one. 
His hand swipes the hair away from your face as you take him, feeling him growing just the slightest bit harder as his tip grazes the back of your mouth. You pull off of him just enough to speak, letting your wet lips brush his tip. “That okay?”
“Yes, fuck yes, I just–”
You grip your hand into his thigh as you shush him, “Shhh, I know, I’m not done.”
You take him down again, bobbing your head back and forth at a steady pace as his breathing starts to pick up. His skin is clammy under your hands and his chest is heaving as he watches you take him as far as you can. 
Your brain starts to wander as you taste him, his natural musky smell translating to the taste of his skin. Maybe he drank too much? Or maybe you’re just bad at this. He should be hard by now. Maybe he doesn’t really want you like you thought. 
A groan leaves his lips and his hips buck up, forcing him further down your throat. “Fuck…”
Okay, that's definitely not it. He has been falling all over you for days, it has to be something else. 
His hand grips into your hair as his hips buck upwards again. “Feel so fuckin’ good baby, shit. Perfect little mouth, knew it would be.” 
You let your eyes flick up to his, staring at him as his tongue rests between his lips. He’s trying, you can tell, but for some reason, it’s just not working. His brow furrows in anger, and you watch as his demeanor shifts, frustration taking him over. 
You pull off him, his dick harder than when you started, but still fairly soft. You don’t know how hard he normally is, but it has to be more than this. Right?
“Jake, we don’t have t–”
He shakes his head, “Mmm, you know what? Come up here beautiful, come lay down for me.”
You do as he says, part of you sad to think that maybe you weren’t doing it for him, but you push the thoughts aside, swapping places with him as he adjusts the pillow beneath your head. He bends to kiss you, pulling away for just a second before pressing his lips to yours again much quicker. 
“So fucking pretty, all of you. But especially that mouth,” he smirks. 
He hooks his fingers into your shorts, pulling them and your panties off in one swift movement. You are bare before him, his eyes widening as he takes you in, finally getting a reaction from his dick. He fists it up and down a few times as he looks at you, “Can I touch you, baby?”
You nod quickly, letting him spread your legs apart with his free hand. A growl leaves his chest as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, “So gorgeous, shit…”
His thumb swipes up through your wetness, circling your clit a few times causing you to squirm beneath him. 
“Jake…” you gasp. 
His eyes meet yours, “Yeah? You like that? You’re so beyond wet, sweetheart.”
Your hips twist and turn beneath his touch, every angle proving to be more stimulating than the last. You whine, a string of curses and muffled versions of his name falling from your lips. 
“You…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “Are everything I thought you would be. More, even.”
“Jake, please, I– I need–”
He pulls away from you quickly, his hand still fisting his cock as he reaches for his wallet on the floor. He pulls a condom from the pocket inside, tearing the foil packet open as he kneels back onto the bed. 
“Let me!” you urge, stopping his wrist, “I mean, please, can I do it?”
His eyes flick up to yours in surprise, “Yeah baby, you can do it. You can do whatever you want, swear to god.”
You grab the latex between your fingers, pinching the tip and rolling it over his cock. It's hard enough now that putting the condom on is fairly easy, but you’re positive he was even harder than this in the bathroom last night. You roll it to his base, letting your hand drift back up and over his chest before circling it around his neck. His hands grip your waist as his lips meet yours again, his tongue circling with yours as he moves you back towards the pillows, gently lowering your body to the bed. “Want you so bad, Y/N.”
“So have me,” you breathe, barely letting your lips leave his. 
You welcome him between your legs, feeling his hand reach down to fist his base, gliding himself through your wetness. In only a matter of a minute his dick is softer than it was, and both of you know it, but neither of you are willing to acknowledge it. 
His phone starts to buzz on the nightstand, both of you looking towards it. He doesn’t pay it any mind, letting it buzz on the wooden table until it stops. 
“Look at me, baby, don’t mind that,” he demands. 
You feel him press his tip to your entrance, his eyes fixed on yours. He furrows his brow as he presses his hips forward, but you feel nothing. Your eyes flick down between the two of you, finding that he can’t seem to get hard and stay hard enough to get it in. You feel a pang of hurt run through your chest, almost like rejection, but somehow a little worse. 
“Jake, are you not hard en–”
“Just give me a second, I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he growls, his attention turning to the still buzzing phone on the nightstand. 
“I mean, I can give you head again if you think–”
“No, Y/N, I just– I just need a second, I’ll be fine,” he says. You can hear the anger in his voice, not at you, but at himself. 
“Is it me?” you ask, running your fingers up his arm that is next to your head. 
“Fuck no. You are everything I want, wet as fuck and gorgeous, no, it’s not you. I want you, I really fucking want you,” he says, stroking himself a few more times. “Alright…”
He repositions himself at your entrance, and this time you can feel him, he’s harder now, enough to slide into you, but still it’s only just enough to slip inside. 
Even half hard he is bigger than the last guy you were with, the stretch as he presses into you making that abundantly clear.
“Oh Jesus Christ, you are so tight,” he pants, his dick hardening a little at the tight fit. 
You slide your hands around his waist, pulling him down a little further as he starts to move his hips, “Oh goddamn…”
His phone buzzes twice on the nightstand as he starts to pump into you at a steady pace, but you ignore it, letting the overwhelming feeling of him moving inside of you take precedence in your brain. 
He groans through closed lips, his brow furrowed in concentration as he slides in and out of you. He rolls his hips as he thrusts into you, a whine leaving your lips as your back arches. 
“Motherfuck, you are–” he stops, regaining his composure, “Tightest fuckin’ pussy.”
Your hands grip into his sides as he picks up speed, his hips slamming into yours as both of you start to lose yourselves in the moment. Finally things felt normal, things felt good, way too good. You wanted this, you needed this, and fuck if he wasn’t checking every box you’d ever had. 
He cups your cheek in his hand, dusting his thumb over your swollen lips just as you part them to suck it in. You watch his eyes roll back in his head as he starts to pant, and you can tell he is dangerously close to his finish. 
You start to speak, ready to change positions but as you open your lips to release his finger, his phone rings, buzzing quickly across the table as the sound plays through the speakers. 
“God fucking damnit!” he growls, “What the fuck!”
“Take it Jake, it’s fine, just– answer and they’ll leave you alone.” you urge, looking to the black phone skittering across the table. 
“No, fuck no.” he snaps, his hips emphasizing his point. “I’m busy,”
The buzzing stops, and he looks back to you, letting his hand drift down to your chest. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, letting his lips meet yours. His kiss is wet, and desperate, his hips starting to falter as they move in messy strokes above you. 
You can tell he needs to cum, his body racing closer and closer with every half hard stroke of his dick. You can also tell he is fighting it, his face is red, and his hairline sweaty. You know it will be seconds, if that, until he is tumbling into his release.
His eyes flick to yours in panic, an almost apologetic look on his face as he breathes, “Baby, I’m, fuck—”
As if right on cue, his phone starts to buzz, the ringtone blaring through the speakers as his hips stutter, slamming into you again as he looks at his phone on the table. His head snaps back to you, sucking in a deep breath of panic as his hips stop, his cock twitching inside you as he fills the condom with a guttural moan. 
The fucked out look that takes over his face is like nothing you’ve ever seen. Reminiscent of a Renaissance painting, the features of his face twist into such a blissful expression that he almost looks like he’s in pain. He’s beautiful, there is absolutely no doubt about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he just came, way, way too soon. 
You are in shock as you lay beneath his panting body, feeling him grow soft inside you once again. He pushes up to his hands nearly instantly, his face riddled with remorse as he realizes what exactly just happened. “Y/N–”
His phone buzzes again, for what has to be the sixtieth time in the last five minutes, a snap of anger washing through you. “Are you going to fucking get that?”
He mumbles a curse under his breath as he pulls out of you, the condom full as he looks at it in shame. He covers himself with his hand as he snatches the phone off of the nightstand and makes his way to the bathroom. You can feel the embarrassment swirling through the air as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on. 
You grab the sheet at your feet and pull it up over your naked, unsatisfied body, trying to wrap your head around what exactly just happened. You try to catch your breath, the sound of your breathing filling the room but quickly drowned out by Jake’s phone ringing. This time though, he answers. 
“Hello?!” he shouts, his anger apparent. “Yeah I’ve seen him fucking calling, I have been busy goddamnit!” 
You hear the sink turn off and the toilet flush, followed by the sound of his footsteps walking back into the room. “Yes, I will call him, Jesus Christ, don’t ever blow my shit up like that again,” he snaps, ending the call. He pauses as he walks, a hand towel in his grip as he taps his phone screen.
You hear another call ringing out, but this time he's the one doing the calling. He walks over to you with the phone on speaker phone, a look of sadness on his face as he slowly approaches the edge of the bed. He sits next to you and reaches for your hand just as the person answers. 
“Hey, man, been trying to call you.” the man's voice says, a tone of urgency present.
“Yeah, sorry about that, I was caught up for a second. What’s up, what’s going on?” Jake answers, rubbing his hand along your arm. 
He turns to look at you mouthing ‘guitar tech’ as he hands you the damp towel. You make quick work of it, wiping yourself off but knowing you’ll be taking a shower as soon as possible. You throw it across the room as he snickers, waiting for Johnny to answer.
“Listen man, I’m at the venue, trucks just arrived and we are doing load out. One of the stage left Marshall cabinets split in transit. Wiring harness is fucked. Amp is…the amp is not looking good man.”
You see Jake stiffen, “What?” 
“Huge gash in the backside, must have fallen or something, I tried to fuck with the wiring as best as I could, it’s not getting any signal right now, man.”
“Holy fuck,” he groans, standing quickly from the bed and gripping into his hair. “No signal? Did you try a direct line in?”
You cut your eyes wondering how he managed to sober up so quickly in the last three minutes.
“Yeah, even DI there’s no signal, just static. Powers’ on, but she’s DOA. Gonna have Mark take a look at it too, but I don’t have high hopes,” he continues. 
“Is there anything we can do? How the fuck are we supposed to get a replacement amp and cabinet by tomorrow?” Jake asks, his voice laced with panic. 
“We can make some calls, I know a guy with some leads. What are the chances of you coming down here to take a look at it? Maybe I’m completely missing something, man. Hoping it's a quick fix. Need your signature for the insurance waiver, too.”
“Can it wait until morning?” he asks, a pained look on his face. 
“Probably shouldn’t, especially if we are looking for a replacement locally.”
He turns to look at you, and you can tell he is conflicted. You bite your lips together and nod your head. This is his job after all. 
He runs a hand over his face, letting out a sigh, “Yeah, yeah, I um– I can be there in a bit. I just need to wrap something up here, and I’ll be there. See if you can get in touch with Hamstead, I’m sure they have a loaner we could use for tomorrow at the very least.”
“Will do man, hey sorry about this, I don’t know what happened, maybe it wasn't strapped down or–”
Jake is quick to cut him off, “It’s fine, not your fault. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Yep, see you then,” he says, ending the call. 
He tosses his phone on the nightstand before dropping his head into his hands. “This night has been…”
He turns to look at you, letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what the fuck it’s been, fuck, I just…”
You can tell he is flustered, he can hardly form a sentence. “Listen, I get it. It’s fine, just go do what you need to do. It’s okay, really.”
He nods as he stands up from the bed, walking around the front to start grabbing for his clothes. He doesn’t say much as he dresses, and he will hardly look at you. You don’t really know why, but you can imagine he is feeling a little bad about himself and his performance at the moment. You still haven't let yourself process what exactly happened with the two of you just now, but you will, soon. 
He re-buttons his shirt, pulling his hair up into a hair tie as he lets out a sigh, “Look, I’m sorry about this. I really am, this is the absolute very last thing I want to do right now, especially after… that. But I have to, and I don’t want you to think that I want to because–”
“Jake. I get it. Just go, it’s fine,” you say calmly, hoping he will believe you. 
He grabs his phone and his wallet and shoves them into his pants pocket, kneeling on the bed towards you. He leans in to kiss you, but his lips don’t land on yours, instead missing your mouth completely. A new rush of secondhand embarrassment washes through you, and right now you think him leaving is probably the best thing he could do. 
He curses himself as he stands up shaking his head in defeat as he swallows back his embarrassment. He walks towards the door with a hand in his pocket, turning to you just before stepping out,  “I’ll uh…I’ll text you, I guess, I don’t know, fuck. Have a good night, Y/N.”
The door slams behind him and suddenly the room is silent. No heavy breathing, no pitchy moans, and no ringing phones. Just pure silence. 
You stare at the wall for a full five minutes, the muted TV flashing colors against your skin. You can’t conjure a thought. Not a single one. Nothing other than what the fuck was that?
You want to call Ruth. You want to call her and tell her everything, but you also don’t even know what you would say. Something like ‘Hey Ruth, just had the worst two minutes of sex of my life? Oh did I mention he was barely hard? And I couldn’t get him hard? And that his phone rang the entire time? And that he came in two minutes? And I didn’t finish at all? And then he had to leave as soon as he finished? And now I’m sitting alone and naked in my hotel room?’  Yeah, you needed to sit on this one for a minute. Your eyes catch sight of the flower laying on the dresser, now looking a little bit limp and lifeless but still beautiful no less. You feel a pang run through your chest, tearing your eyes away from it so as not to taint that moment earlier with this one. 
You rip the sheets from your body and make your way to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as it will go before stepping inside. You let the steaming hot water clear your mind and ease your tense muscles, washing away the scent of his cologne that is lingering on your skin. 
You wrack your brain for answers, though you can hardly come up with anything that makes sense. There’s just no fucking way he is actually terrible in bed. We had so much chemistry, the electricity between us was nearly electrocuting you. He felt so good last night. We were so in sync last night. This had to be a fluke, right? You’ve seen him with his guitar on stage, where was that?!
You lather your skin in your body wash, rinsing away the remaining evidence that this night ever happened. After the best afternoon with him, why was he so off tonight? He barely seemed like himself. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. 
You tried to put yourself in his shoes. If the roles were reversed and it was your phone blowing up like that, you probably would have been a little distant too. But that didn’t explain why he couldn’t stay hard. That was a mystery to you, and you really hoped to god it was the beers and not you. You know he was so much harder last night, you know he was. You felt it. So what happened between last night and tonight? 
Something. You knew that much. 
You turn off the water and wrap yourself in a towel, letting your mind wander with possibilities, trying to convince yourself that what he showed you tonight was not who he really was. You sat back down on the bed you just shared with him, thinking back to that few seconds where things were good. And it was good, it felt good, he felt good. There was no denying those few seconds. But the rest of it, well, that was still up for debate. 
You grab your phone and tap the screen, the display reading 1:02AM. There are no texts from Jake, though you didn’t really know what you expected him to say.
From the little you know about him, when he left here tonight the confidence he naturally exudes was gone, not even in the same building. You knew he would reach out, but only when he was ready and knew what to say. But until then… 
You toss your phone on the bed next to you, quickly changing into a clean pair of pajamas and curling back up into the bed. You lay there staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how you are going to handle things tomorrow. You would be with him the entire day, and you didn’t want to make him feel worse than he likely already did. 
You go back and forth with yourself until you land on something sturdy: You won’t say anything, you won’t do anything. You’ll act completely normal. The same as you have for the last few days. You decide to tear this page from the book and move forward. This never happened. 
Deep down you know there was something holding him back from being fully present with you tonight, but what that is you’ve yet to discover.
JAKE POV
The early morning finds you facedown on your bed, still fully clothed, one boot kicked off into the floor, the other still completely on your foot. The sun is far from being up, and you’re thankful that you still have a few hours before its rays beat in through your window. The bustle of the awakening city is loud on the streets below you, and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to stay in this exact position for the rest of the day. For the rest of your life, actually. Maybe, if you bury yourself under these blankets and pillows, everyone will forget about you. Isla will forget about you. Y/N will forget about you, about everything, about last night. It will be like it never even happened. It will be like the most amazing buildup to what could have been a night of pure electricity didn’t take an absolute nose dive into one of the most embarrassing things to have ever happened to you. You’d take tripping on stage a million times over this. Pure. Humiliation.
Yeah, right here, in this bed. Under the pillows. They can’t find you here. 
What the fuck even happened?! Whiskey dick was an understatement. It didn’t even begin to explain what you…experienced. Unable to perform for the most beautiful new thing that has happened to you. Everything was perfect, she was perfect… her confidence was enamoring, her head was off the charts good, and fuck, for the few seconds you had things actually going, it was pure ecstasy. She was soaked for you. Her sounds, her face… fuck. It all came flooding back to your brain, even the way she smelled still stuck in your mind. She wanted you, just as badly as you wanted her. Just the thought of it had you standing at attention all over again, at full force this time, though. And you’d let her down. 
You sit up and roll yourself over. “Where the fuck were you last night, huh? Let me the fuck down!” you audibly yell at what was happening in your still-belted jeans. You force your face back into the comforter, realizing now that a horrific hangover is on the horizon. Your head is busting in two already, not like you already didn’t feel like shit on a boot.
Staying here, under the pillows until sound check. Right here. Not moving. Hiding. 
You know that’s not realistic, though. You contemplate texting her, but what the fuck do you even say? You couldn’t even satisfy her, and ended up satisfying yourself, way too fucking soon. What had you lasted, two minutes? Three max? Like a fucking 16 year old kid. God, what a fucking tool. She probably thinks you’re a horrible lay. You know you’re better than that. 
You groan hard into the sheets below you, feeling the metallic taste of a hangover in your mouth. You need a gallon each of water, orange juice, and black coffee, stat. And probably like, nine pieces of the butteriest toast you can find. And probably a shower, yes, a shower. And a straightjacket, for how absolutely insane you feel. 
Damnit, the amp. Luckily, the rental was in the works of being en route last night, so you feel just a little bit better about that, at least. It won’t be your baby, but it will sound okay. 
You roll and find your almost-dead phone underneath your chest, blinking your eyes as the screen brightens. Nothing. Not even Isla. Good. No one wants you. You can stay here, hidden in your burrow, until you absolutely can’t anymore. 
You’ve gotta say something, anything to her, to start this process that you want to stay millions of miles away from. But the first step to healing is admission, so you go ahead and take it. 
You
5:31AM: I’m sorry. 
You watch as the message is delivered to her, seeing the string of foreplay texts and her photo still sitting in the chat. She’s so gorgeous, how could you have fucked up this badly? Your first chance to show her how you feel and you fumble this hard?
Though there were many factors playing into it, at the very deepest darkest part of your mind, you know why. You know exactly why. Guilt isn’t an emotion you let yourself feel very often, and this morning, you find yourself grasped in the wrath of it. The double-edged sword of your current situation with two separate women is proving to be more intertwined than you’d anticipated, or even foresaw. What you want is clear, though. And you’re determined to get a second chance, no matter how rocky and uncomfortable the road to that chance may be. 
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quaintobsessions · 1 year ago
Text
You Can Hear It Still
It hits me in the hush of 6 pm: your season drifting close. By now, you've switched it out
for closer access to the sun, but it smells exactly the same – apple chests, old books,
smoke and cloves. For a moment, it was last night that we laughed on stone steps
along a rippling canal in Amsterdam, the rosy moon as ripe and as full.
We can't fathom it, really, can we? How few more times we will feel the season shift,
how little longer the street's stillness will taste like scaling fences
and borrowed clothes – like woodsmoke blurring the stars, soup simmering on the stove,
and murmurs intense until dawn while your bandmates sleep on the floor.
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karatam · 2 years ago
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come back (even as a shadow, even as a dream) [12/12, complete, 113k]
pairing: Ava/Beatrice (Warrior Nun)
rating: M
chapter word count: 2.2k
chapter summary: Epilogue - Bea
Amsterdam is beautiful.
The bells of a nearby clocktower ring out, and the off-kilter melody they produce makes Bea smile. She leans forward, resting her weight on her elbows as she stands on the bridge, the wooden railing probably leaving indents in her forearms. She’s been waiting a while, has heard the bells chime out at least twice while watching boats drift lazily through the canal below.
full fic summary:
Three months after Ava disappears into the portal, Beatrice still can’t let her go. She’ll do anything to bring Ava back. But when she manages to succeed, the question is what else has Ava brought back with her? or Ava comes back wrong
total word count: 113k
IT'S FINALLY COMPLETE!!!
prologue - Bea chapter 1 - Bea chapter 2 - Bea chapter 3 - Bea chapter 4 - Bea chapter 5 - Ava interlude - Ava chapter 6 - Bea chapter 7 - Bea & Ava chapter 8 - Bea & Ava chapter 9 - Bea & Ava epilogue - Bea
(read on AO3)
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