#bro almost all the music i’ve heard since we got to this vacation spot was done on gIee LOLLLL

[kuiinncedes]

:’)

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

The Bet~ Part II

@kscarlett1 was 100% my motivation for this chapter! I think there might be more to this story and an SOA crossover and I’m geekin y’all. Enjoy! 

The Bet~ Part I

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Me llamo Obispo. Yo soy el presidente. Welcome amiga nuevo: My name is Bishop. I’m the president. Welcome new friend. 

Me nombre es Y/N. Mucho gusto: My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you.

Igualmente: Likewise

Days idled in to two aching weeks of radio silence and it was quickly beginning to chip away at Bishop leaving him restless, jumpy, and downright miserable. The checkered tile felt cool beneath his bare feet as sat by his lonesome in their kitchen twisting the label off the presently empty beer bottle. 

His sigh echoed deafeningly noisy almost like all the peacefulness had left when Y/N did. All of her belongings still remained in their rightful home as he wondered just how long this charade could last.

Bishop sluggishly walked to the fridge, grabbing another beer before reaching for the half empty tequila bottle, he kept stashed underneath the sink. Emergency purposes only, how properly fitting. He staggered back to his chair before collapsing into his original spot, the spot he intended to waste the day in while hopefully drowning his many sorrows.

His lids closed as his brain traveled back to the fateful day that would eventually fuck up everything.

*Flashback- One Year Ago*

Riz dealt another hand of Poker as Coco, Angel, and Bishop rallied up to the table all intent on winning. After the not so pleasant meeting with Miguel earlier in the afternoon, all members were tittering on the edge, silenced into submission after their latest threat. Miguel fucking Galindo would guarantee the death of their club, but most certainly to their integrity or at least what was left of it.

Everyone glanced at the cards displayed to its designated owner before Angel spoke up; “This only applies to one moron at this table, and yes, I’m talkin bout you Coco; no fucking card counting you prick.”

Coco counter smirked unwilling to confirm nor deny his brother’s suspicions.

“Whatever you say, amigo.”

The game continued smoothly for the next hour before Riz finally braved the sentence no one was willing to speak.

“How the fuck we gonna get out of this one, Pres?”  

Bishop exhaled; unsure of how to comfort his brothers and pep their spirits, but the words never found him.

“No more talk of work for the rest of the evening. Got it?”

All nodded in agreement going forth with the festivities surrounding them. Bishop skimmed the crowded room. The bass of the music pulsated around him, the sound of women’s laughter filled the air as the party started to get into full swing.

Until he noticed the stunning figure sitting by her lonesome at the disheveled bar; her body swaying to the current beat, her emerald eyes closed with a blissful smile painted upon her lips. She looked like heaven; beautiful to admire and way out of his league, but he loved a challenge.

“Say boys…does anybody know the broad sitting at the bar?”

All eyes guided towards the stranger’s direction admiring the beauty thankfully clueless to their gawking. Suddenly Coco’s cleared his voice, his attention focused on the current cards in his hand; “Her name’s Y/N. She used to be an Old Lady for the Sons.”

“That doesn’t explain why she’s here tonight in Mayans territory now does it?” Bishop’s tolerance began to flounder, his impatience clearly nearing the finish line.

“She’s works at Santo Padre Hospital as the newest Chief of Cardio…or so I’ve heard.”

Angel’s eyebrow raised slightly staring at Coco quizzically; “How the fuck do you know all this shit? You stalking this girl, bro?”

Coco leaned closer lowering his tone trapping the curious men beside him.

“Get this. She just so happens to be Vicki’s niece hence why she is here tonight.”

“Jesus, she’s one fine piece of ass.”

Bishop coldly stared at Angel’s now frightened expression; “If I’ve taught you one thing in all the years of being graced with my company, it is always to treat a lady with respect. Chicks dig the gentlemen, I’m tellin you.”

Angel was alit with drunken charm as the next sentence tumbled from his lips; “Said the man who got laid last when…?”

“I’d be real careful if I were your squirt. Tonight, is not the night to be checky with me, do I make myself clear?”

Luckily Angel had the brain power to know when to halt his shenanigans and silently complied with his president’s request.

Enough with this shit. Bishop threw his remaining cards down overwhelmed and abruptly out of breath.

“I’m going outside for some fresh air. Deal me out, I’m done boys.”

As Bishop made his way towards the exit, he braved a glance over his shoulder towards Y/N surprisingly locking eyes before she looked back at the woman now occupying the empty seat beside her.

Bishop reached the porch in no time, scurrying for his pack of lights only to be disappointed to find empty pockets and quarters. His head tilted back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he tiredly groaned, rubbing his hands over his face in defeat.

Before his pity became all-consuming, Bishop’s neck hair stood on edge alerting him of someone else’s presence as he heard a quiet ‘Hey’. He turned to follow the melodic voice, she was even more gorgeous up close.

“I think I can be of assistance.” Y/N combed her blonde hair behind her ears revealing a cigarette tucked away and handed it to the handsome man sitting alone.

“You don’t strike me as a smoker but today has definitely not been my day.”

“I’m not. It was kinda forced upon her, hence the hiding spot.” She chuckled at her own joke accidentally releasing a snort. She reached to cover her mouth embarrassed at the sound her body created, but Bishop Losa lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Me llamo Obispo. Yo soy el presidente. Welcome amiga nuevo.”

“Me nombre es Y/N. Mucho gusto.”

“Igualmente. What brings you to this part of town, bonita?”

“Ah, already with the names. I thought you would be different…less unpredictable.”

“Lo siento mucho. I must admit it was even a little sleazy for me too. I guarantee you it won’t happen again, maybe.”

“All is forgiven. Um, long story short. My marriage was in shambles, my home didn’t feel like home any longer, and this was a badass job opportunity. I’m a doctor, heart doctor to be exact.”

“How did I get so lucky to be in the company of a genius, especially one as interesting as yourself.”

“Some people are just blessed, ya know?” He had never seen a smile as lovely as Y/N’s but he knew it could make a rainy day entertaining.

Bishop took a long drag of his almost finished cigarette embracing the finality of the ticklish burn in his throat. Y/N was too busy gazing at the stars momentarily distracting her. Bishop decided to break their bubble of peace; “I better be heading back inside. Gotta keep these guys in line.”  

“You have a rowdy crew on your hands but a loyal bunch. Lucky you.”

“It was really nice meeting you. Hopefully, I’ll see you around?”

“Who knows what the future has in store? The odds might be switching in your favor.”

She extended her hand to shake his just as lightening simmered between them slowly before becoming electrifying. Simultaneously, they both pulled away finding each other’s eyes. Bishop broke eye contact first and began the minor trek back inside, his nerves tingling as he shook his fingers. What the hell just happened?

“Hasta luego.”

“Ciao.”

He dragged his feet back to his chair greeting the guys once more. Smoke engulfed the room as the alcohol resumed to flow.

Riz pipped up; “Change of heart, boss?”

“Shut the hell up and deal the damn cards.”

Coco interjected, snickering; “Someone’s feathers seem to be ruffled.”

“How bout we make things a little more stimulating.”

Bishop gave into his whims, “What did you have in mind, ya idiot?”

“While you were absent, we were discussing and came up with a great idea. A bet.”

“I’ll give in. Explain.”

Angel perked up resting his elbows on the table reveling in temporary power. “Well you did say to get our minds off of work and what better way than to initiate the new girl.”

Riz butted his way into the conversation; “Since you my dear friend seems the most in need of female interaction, your name easily came up. Seduce Y/N, reel her in. Hook, line, and sinker.”

She seemed like a sweet enough girl and he was obviously lacking female companionship at the moment, so he blindly accepted.

“Easy, what’s my timeline?”

“Three months max.” All men shook their heads in agreement.

“Winner gets forty-eight hours of uninterrupted ‘vacation’.”

Any time away from the club was always a blessing in disguise and he was in dire need of a break from his twisted reality.

“You assholes are going down.”

Bish dared one more glimpse at the mysterious woman who enraptured his attention. Concocting his plan would take time since she wasn’t like one of the usual girls that hung around. She was a goddamn surgeon! Y/N felt a pair of eyes watching her as she glanced at her newly found friend, a faint smirk alighting her features.

Her belly tightened with renewed butterflies as she looked away from Mr. President himself not quite ready to admit the blush tinging her cheeks was all due to the inexplicably fascinating man, she had the pleasure of stumbling upon. Y/N exhaled; finally, optimistic of her new journey in Santo Padre and away from her past life.

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Requests open! 

[tracklist-fic]

Tracklist Fic | 001 / The Beginning

Title: Tracklist | An original, mature, Ed Sheeran fanfic CO-AUTHORED BY: @tea-and-toblerones and @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: Mature (lil bit of smuts only in this one)

Note: Hey everyone!!! Sorry for the delay. We’re so excited to publish our first official Track. Please let us know what you think! We love seeing those likes/reblogs/comments/inboxes -- writing is wonderful but it’s even more special when we know it’s well-loved!

Have you read the Prelude? Click here to catch up!

Ed........................

I sat in The MixRoom’s lounge, waiting for Mark's staff meeting to let out so we could begin talks about my next album. My leg was bouncing almost uncontrollably as I chewed on the tips of my fingers, a nervous habit I'd developed as a child and never been able to shake off.

I liked Mark, he was a good chap. Laid back, good sense of humor, nothing ever seemed to phase him. He's someone who had earned my respect and someone who's advice I always took into consideration. He also pulled no punches. If something was shit, he'd be quick to tell you. He wouldn't try and sugar coat it. He'd just look me in the eye and go 'Ed, your vocals on that take sounded like shit. Take a break and give them a rest, they're sounding a little stressed.'  If he criticized, he always had some advice to make it better the next go around. I quickly learned to listen to him, rather than arguing.

The door had cracked open, ushering in the sound of idle chatter, papers rustling and people moving about. I could hear his voice floating in.

"Go get the booth ready for a session later on today. Oh and put some of those butterscotch candies in there too. They requested it, saying it helped with their throat." The door swung the rest of the way open and Mark came out, a huge smile on his face, "Ed! It's been a while. I was wondering when you was going to stop in."

The first time I met Mark I damn near shit my pants. The guy was a giant, tall, built like a tank. His blonde hair was always kept buzzed short. He could be intimidating if he didn't have such a good natured face that was almost always smiling. He did have the air of someone who's bad side you didn't want to be on. He reached his hand out, which I graciously took, returning the grin.

"I meant to have been back in the studio a couple months ago but shit man, I just really enjoyed my time off."

"All that time off spent vacationing and you're still a pale bastard." He joked

"I'm a ginger. We don't tan, we burn, mate and I'm English on top of it. Our bodies aren't equipped to handle the sun. That's why all the vampires flock to London, innit?"

"Thought that was werewolves."

I pause, giving it some thought, faintly hearing ah ooooo werewolves of London in the back of my head. "Shit, you're right."

Mark motioned for me to follow him to his office so we could discuss business. I settle down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. His walls were covered in albums that had went gold and platinum. I smiled when I saw my own album, mostly cos I signed it ‘This wouldn't be worth a shit if you weren't such a cheeky bastard.’ He settled down in his desk chair, shuffling papers and some cd's around. Once he had cleared an area, his elbows came up on the desk, his fingers carding together. Down to business.

"I'd like to run something by you, if you don't mind."

I lean back in the chair, my hand coming up to my chin. "Alright."

"Since you've been gone I've been training an apprentice." He must be wanting to ask if I would care if they sat in on our sessions. "Now, they've handled some pretty big clients with little to no intervening on my part. I think they're ready to make the plunge and deal with a client all by themselves. While they've never been with someone quite your level, you're the ideal client for them to start with. You're not demanding or overwhelming. Plus you're involved with every step of the process and are vocal about your vision and how you imagine the final product sounding, without being a prick about it."

I run my hand over my chin as I mull over what he's proposing. I trust Mark's judgement but having an apprentice who's never done something of this magnitude overseeing this album is a bit terrifying. Especially since what I have in mind is so unconventional.

"I dunno man, I don't know how I feel about being a guinea pig. I've got some ideas that are what you'd consider outside the box that I'd feel more comfortable with someone with experience handling."

His expression didn't change much. His hands were moving across his desk, searching for something. "If I didn't think they could hack it, I wouldn't have them around. I definitely wouldn't be suggesting to try them out." He slid a cd over to me that was labeled 'J's demo's'  "Give it a listen and tell me what you think. If you're still not comfortable, I'll take charge. But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by what you hear."

I take the cd, setting it on my lap as we continued talking, mostly just catching up and me telling him all the places I visited on my holiday and how I was going to incorporate all these experiences in my songs. I could tell by Mark's face that some of them were going to end up on the recording room floor but kept his opinions to himself. Probably because he's banking on me choosing his apprentice.

I stand up, shaking his hand one last time, setting an appointment for tomorrow at 11 to start going over ideas. I look down at the cd, planning on putting it on in the car as I drive around town.

"Hey, can you recommend any good bars? I'd like to grab a pint or two later on tonight and keep under the radar."

"Yeah, go to the Copperstill. It's a nice, low key bar. I doubt you'll find any problems there."

"Thanks mate, I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

I put the cd into the car stereo as I drive around doing some errands. I hit play and the car is filled with a quick upbeat song with a underlying percussive beat that I instantly started bobbing my head to. This was one that urged you to get up and dance. It wasn't in your face trance music, it was subtler, one who's beat you'd be humming or tapping later on. The next one had a bright sounding piano paired with an acoustic guitar. When I heard the trumpet during the chorus it caught me by surprise. This had more of an acoustic feel that I found refreshing.

By the time I had finished the cd, I had made my mind up. There had been a mix of everything on this list. Quick dance tunes, Slow and smooth ones that made you sway to the beat. An angry sounding one that made me want to jump and scream. Mark was right, I was pleasantly surprised.

I had pulled up to the bar that he had recommended. I caught myself humming to the beat of one of the more upbeat songs. Figured as much, It'll be stuck in my head the rest of the night.

The first thing I notice when I walk in is the large group of guys gathered at a table being obnoxiously loud. I automatically spot out the leader of the group. Tall, athletic looking, sporting a backwards snapback. As he was shotgunning a beer, his mates chanting Newman! Newman! Newman, I noticed some sort of tattoo running up his arm.

I try and make my way past them, one stumbling out in front of me, almost falling into me. He hits my chest with an open hand in what I guess he thought was an apologetic sort of way.

"Sorry bro."

I just nod, not wanting to get pulled into a drunken spectacle. The bartender sauntered over to me, throwing an irritated look toward the rowdy group. Her eyes rolling before she turned her attention to me.

"Sorry about the douche convention being held tonight. What can I get for you?"

"Whatever's good on tap. I'm not too picky."

She nods, snagging a glass on her way to the tap, her blonde ponytail swaying. The light catching it, causing it to look like spun gold. As she filled my glass I could see her staring at the group of guys, who had somehow managed to get even louder, with a look of disgust. She slid a coaster in front of me before putting down the glass. I thanked her which she acknowledged with a nod before checking on the other patrons at the end of the bar.

As I sat there drinking my beer, I stared at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I had to admit I looked a bit pathetic sitting here all by myself. I could see the alpha of the group attempting to rap along to the song that was play. He had flipped his hat around and put aviators on as he waved his fingers around to the beat. A blonde girl had joined the group laughing and brushing her fingers across his chest. Even from here I could see the lust pouring off her.

I decided that if I was going to sit at a bar and drink I should probably eat something. Lunch had wore off long ago and I knew drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea. I waved down the bartender, who looked even more surly than she did the first time. I knew it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the group that was now banging on the table. Her tone was polite but she had the air of 'I'm so over all of this.' I did get a slight smile when I ordered loaded fries without the things that actually made it loaded.

When I had asked for the match to be put on I had all intentions of actually watching it but I found myself more invested in the girl than the game. I was appalled when one of the guys swaggered up to the bar demanding drinkings, throwing a crumpled wad of money at her when she asked for payment. It was at that moment, looking at that beautiful face staring down at the balled up money, that I had decided to do whatever it took to make her night just a bit better. The mixing of a cocktail for herself just solidified the decision.

I spent the next couple hours chatting with her but I could tell her attention was elsewhere. Even with the fraction of focus I was receiving I could tell she was a force to be reckoned with. I decided to try my luck and ask if we could meet up sometime. She quickly threw out there she wasn't looking for a relationship. When I had suggested it didn't have to be a date I could see all of her attention being pulled to me. Her posture straightened and I realised she may have been offended. I quickly tried to backpedal but she latched on to the idea saying her shift was done in twenty minutes. The alcohol that I had been consuming throughout the night was urging me to go for it. What's the worst that could happen?

Jac........................

"Fancy meeting you here, Jac."

My heart was absolutely beating out of my chest and I felt like I might puke. How could I have been so stupid? Years and years of busting ass to FINALLY get your big shot at success, and you fuck it all up to have a crazy-hot one night stand with Ed fucking SHEERAN!? Goddamn it, Jac!

I was totally speechless. Panicking. Desperately wishing I could rewind the last twelve hours of my life and try to not colossally fuck things up. This opportunity? To work on his next album? It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I'd never get another shot like this. And I KNEW I could smash this thing. I couldn't walk away.

He was perched on the coffee table right in front of where I was melting into the sofa.

I should probably say something.

“Look, Ed.”

I finally met his eyes with my own, seeing them in proper light for the first time. Oh, damn, never seen that color blue...

“I’m really sorry about last night. I had… NO IDEA. Mark really kept this one under wraps. I wouldn't have……. If I had known that I'd be working with you. Please, I hope that we can put that aside and move forward. You're a hard worker, I know your whole story. I am, too. I've got no Plan B. This -” I paused, gesturing to the studio, “- is my entire life. I understand if you don't want to work with me, but I really hope that you at least give me a shot. I know a lot about your sound and I have a lot of ideas on how to take it to the next level, but in an authentic way.”

“Well, firstly, I think a proper introduction is in order,” he grinned, extending a hand out to me. “I'm Ed.” No shit -- Oy, can the attitude, Jac.

I shook his hand, gripping it firmly. It was important to have a strong handshake, especially when you were a young female working in a field that was typically dominated by men.

“I'm Jaclyn Thorn. Most people call me Jac.”

“It's really lovely to properly meet you, Jac.” He toys with my name is his mouth, again, looking very pleased with himself. “Listen, I absolutely want to work with you. Mark gave me your demo, and the mix of sounds you've cultivated -- it got me really, really excited. I couldn't get your stuff out of my head yesterday.”

Holyfuckareyoukiddingme.

“-- and Jac?” He questioned. “I'm not sorry about last night.”

My head was still spinning, trying to wrap itself around the fact that he not only listened to my demo, he liked it and had it stuck in his head. Then I was wrapped around his head -- No Jac, don't go there. Though the way he said wasn't sorry about last night had me slightly worried. Did he think this was going to be a continuing thing? Is he still trying to pursue a romantic relationship? Surely he knows better than mixing business and pleasure. Ultimately I decided to look past his comment and focus on what we were here for: the album.   I motion for him to sit on the couch next to me so we could be comfortable as we discussed the plans for his new project. I can't say that I was entirely shocked when he sat right next to me. Plenty of couch there bud, but my all means, sit right on top of me. Personal space is overrated. His body was angled towards me, with his elbows resting on his knees with hands clasped together. His face was wearing a mask of interest. Not mild interest, not fake interest, geniune, 'I deep care about what you have to say.' interest. I have to admit it was an intense stare that felt almost intrusive.

C'mon Jac, you got this. He could not even be giving you the time of the day. Besides, he's know for fully giving people his attention but I guess it's different when you’re at the receiving end of it. "Okay, so walk me through how you'd like the album to sound." I found, surprisingly, it wasn't hard to bring my work voice out. Hopefully this will help establish more of a professional relationship than the hot dirty one we currently had. "Mmm, I thought Mark said we we're working on the album until tomorrow?" I could he was teasing, he didn't need to add the 'I'm obviously joking' knee bump with it. I could feel the anger unexpectedly rise in me. I wasn't sure if it was directed toward him for not taking this seriously or at myself for being so fucking stupid and letting what happened last night happen. "Look, you may not think this is that big of a deal. Your last two albums went platinum. Most people that have two successful records can tour using just those two and still live comfortably. So, I'm going to ask you again. Can you put aside what happened and focus on the music?" He dropped his head and for a brief moment I thought he was going to start yelling. When he lifted his head I was shocked to see him looking quite upset. I instantly regretted my sharp tone with him. Of course he thinks this is a big deal. It's Ed Sheeran Mr. 'I work my ass off no matter what'.

"Of course I think it's a big deal." His voice barely breaking above a whisper. "I've been gone for so long, what if...what if it's been too long and they've forgotten me? That all the work I've put in for five years has been for shit because people are quick to forget and jump behind some new singer. What happens if I release this album and nobody cares?" His head had fell to his chest, his leg bouncing ferviously. Oh fuck, I went and broke Ed Sheeran. Way to go Jac... "Well, I'm going to make it my personal mission to make this album, not only a hit, but your best one yet. You're still on the rise Ed, I promise you nobody's forgotten about you." I place my hand on his leg, hoping to comfort him and undo the damage I had caused. He took a deep breath "You're right. I'm all up in my head."  His hand wrapped around mine. "Thanks for the pep talk, Jac." Yeah, okay thanks for making this awkward now. I clear my throat and motion down to our hands with my head. He looks down and quickly lets go offering up an apology. I removed my hand from his leg, which in hindsight probably wasn't the smartest move. "So, your album, does it have a title yet?" I was hoping bring it back around to work would lighten the pretty heavy mood in the room. "Divide." He replied, his voice gaining some of that passionate spark I had saw earlier. "Ah, so, sticking to the math theme I see." That earned a smile.

"Yeah but it fits the feel of the album as well. It's not just named that to go with the other two." 

That had made me perk up. "The feel? What type of feel are you going for?" "So, everyone knows I've been on holiday pretty much going where ever I feel like." Yeah, you lucky bastard. I'm lucky to take a daytrip to the beach. "While I was bouncing from place to place I picked up a lot of new and different sounds. I want to record my holiday." "Record your holiday? What do you mean?" This sounded different than what he's done before. He definitely had my interest now. "I want to combine a bunch of different songs from different regions. I spent some time in Ghana and that experience drastically changed the way I view things, so I'd like to have a song that has an African vibe. I'd love to have some Irish folk on there, y'know go back to my roots and I wrote a song with my brother who writes classical music. Of course I'll still have some love songs and a couple grime sounding songs with R&B. Essentially, I want every track to sound totally different than the others. So it's divided, see?" I stare at him blankly. Now I see why he said I'd be perfect for this album. It also had me wondering if Mark knew this going in and that's why he tossed my name out there. He was taking a huge risk if he went through with this. We really couldn't predict how people would handle all these different styles being thrown at them wrapped up in one album. "Wow...there's nothing like that anywhere on the charts..." "I know, I could be shooting myself in the foot here. I should probably just stick to what i've already done--" I cut him off, shaking my head. "No, you misunderstood. There's nothing like that on the charts. Meaning this would definitely stand out. Just because it's not big now doesn't mean it can't be. You could open up a whole new style and experience for them. If anyone could make Irish folk or African popular, It's Ed Sheeran."

There was a little spark in his eyes as they bore into my face, his features stoic as he must have been trying to form a complete thought. A moment passed and he finally shook out of it.

“I like you.” Just three little words, but they made my stomach flip. And not in a good way. Does he mean, like… *LIKE* me? Or did he mean my aesthetic?

I quickly changed the subject. “So, how many songs do you have on deck so far?”

I could practically see his brain switching gears, he couldn’t resist diving right into any conversation that was centered around the music. Well, then, I intend to keep it that way.

“Maybe, around 40 or so? They’re all pretty raw, though, and I’m open to doing a little more writing. Do you write, or just produce?”

“Well, my strengths are really in production, but I dabble in a bit of everything, naturally.”

We chatted for a good half hour or so, my nerves finally calming down a bit as we both lost ourselves in the conversation, talking songwriting and musical influences.

He glanced down at the thick-banded black watch on his wrist. “Shit, I’m late for my next meeting. Sorry,” he apologized. “What time should I be in tomorrow?”

“No worries. ‘Round 9AM work for you?”

We agreed, and he came toward me as if to give me a hug goodbye. I did NOT want to be pressed up against those broad shoulders of his, so I quickly deflected by putting my hand up for a high-five.

A high-fucking-five. What the fuck, J.

He snorted, meeting my hand with his own and flouncing a soft “Bye, Jac,” out of his lips before walking out of the studio.

I clocked in at Copperstill, my brain on auto-pilot. I had barely even noticed Dylan entering until he positioned himself at my bar, calling to me in a surprisingly polite tone. I noticed he had left his snapback behind. It was the first time I had saw him without it in I couldn't tell you how long. I noticed he had let the top grow out, while keeping the sides short. Now that it was longer, just brushing his brow, I saw that his hair was slightly curly and carefully disheveled. I almost didn't recognise him without his douchebag attire. "Hey Jac, could I get a beer please?" Okay, what do you want? You're never this polite unless you want something.You can change your clothes but it doesn't make you any less of a douche. "Sure, anything else?" I couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice, not that I really tried. I had no interest in whatever it was he wanted. "Your undivided attention when you get a minute." "The beer it is. I can't promise you anything else. Some of us have to work for a living, trust fund kid." Let's see how long he stays polite for now. He hated it when I brought up the fact that he didn't have to stress over money. Everything he owned was paid for him, leaving the money he earned working to be spent however he saw fit. Which usually meant extravagant trips and loads of music festivals. I may have been jealous. "Well, when you get a bit, I'd like to talk." Still maintaining the same polite tone he used earlier. Would the real Dylan please stand up, because you're not him. I set his drink in front of him, not lingering around or giving him a chance to say anything other than a thanks before heading down to the other end of the bar. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit interested in what he had to say. I'm guessing fake Barbie didn't work out so well last night. Or maybe it did and he realised what he was missing. The cynic and optimist battled with one another the entire night. Dylan hadn't budged at all, remaining in his seat. He had stopped drinking after two beers opting for water instead, which was very unDylan like. My curiosity got the best of me so once my shift ended I sat down at a table with him, sipping my third or fourth drink who's counting? "So what's so important that you'd wait around all night for me?" After a deep breath "I wanted to tell you I finally took your advice." "My advice? I haven't given you any other than 'fuck off' and you clearly haven't taken that 'cause here you are." "Actually it was fuck off and grow up, if you want to be that way."  A smirk crawling across his face as he looked up at me with those faded blue eyes. They don't hold the same magnetic pull that a certain someone's elses have. "Well go on then, I don't have all night. I've got an early morning tomorrow."  I cross my arms and lean back in my chair waiting for whatever it was he wanted to discuss. "I stopped taking money from my dad. I'm paying for everything on my own now. I took your advice and grew up." "Well congratulations, you're a big boy now. Is that what you wanted to tell me?" I couldn't believe this is what he hung around to tell me. That he wasn't being supported by his parents anymore. What do you want, a standing O? "Come on Jac, this was huge for me. I know it bothered you when we were together." a whine had slipped out of his mouth that struck a nerve. "We're not together, remember? You wanted to go be a bro more than a boyfriend." I spit back at him, my eyebrow coming up. “You don't have to tell me I was a shit boyfriend. I know I was. I was an even worse ex. Coming in here, being a total ass to you. I'm gonna change Jac." I'm gonna change. Yeah, how many times have I heard that line of bullshit from men. Hell, how many times have I heard him say exactly that. Then he turns right around and goes partying with his friends, coming home reeking of bitter beer and pungent weed. This isn't going to be any different. If he's broke he can't afford to buy beer and weed, though.. "You're gonna change?" I snort. "Okay, sure, let's pretend for a second that I do believe that load of crap. How do you plan on proving it?" He looked a bit rattled by my response, "Wait, you're gonna let me prove it to you?" "I asked you how not to show me how." I clarified. "By not being a piece of shit?" He offered with a sheepish look. So you have no clue. "Do you even know how to be a decent human being?" I was past the point of caring whether or not I was being rude. "By doing the opposite of what I did when we were together?" He chuckled weakly, "Look, all I'm asking for is one chance. One final chance to make it up to you. If it doesn't work, I'll leave you alone." One chance. One chance and you'll leave me alone. It's almost worth it to be rid of him... After I took a minute to think over everything I gave my answer. "Fine. You get your one chance. You better bring your A game because I'm not playing around here." His face broke into a smile and I was reminded of the younger Dylan I had met. It was easy to forget that he hadn't always been a colossal tool. Sure he had always been rich and slightly entitled. Everything he owned was top of the line. Swanky house, fancy car, always dressed to the nines. The Dylan I fell in love with was a sweet, naive one that was getting a taste of the real world for the first time. That's what made his transformation into a frat guy even more upsetting. When I looked across the table at him, that's who I saw. The bright eyed curious boy with a fierce passion for movies and a love to travel. He had reached for my hand but I moved it, grabbing my half empty glass of booze instead. He didn't even try to play it off and act like he was reaching for something else. It remained there as I finished off my drink. When I stood up he looked up at me from under his lashes. I could see his jaw working as he chewed on the inside of cheek, a nervous habit of his. Once, during a particularly stressful finals week he almost chewed a hole through his lip. "Can I show you how much I appreciate this?" I look down at him and let out a sigh, "Look, I'm not really in the mood to be...giving any favors. I've got an early start tomorrow." Truth was it wasn't him that I wanted to taste. I wanted my mouth wrapped around someone else's thick­, hard cock, surrounded by that fiery-- Whoa, okay, you need to put a stop to those thoughts right now. You agreed it was going to be strictly professional now that you're working together. These thoughts are the exact opposite of what you need to be thinking. Get it together girl, damn. I was so wrapped up in my intense and highly inappropriate daydreams that I hadn't heard him stand up nor did I notice he was right in front of me until his hand brushed my hair off my shoulder. "I asked if I could show you my appreciation. I didn't say you had to return the favor." BLAH BLAH BLAH IMMA ROCK YOUR WORLD BABY YOU'RE GON SEE I'M A CHANGED MAN. LOOK HOW NICE I'M BEING YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO SUCK ME BACK. THAT'S HOW GENEROUS I AM. MAKE ME A CROWN, GIVE ME A SCEPTER COS I'M THE KING OF NICE GUYS. Jac, are you seriously falling for this? His mouth worked against mine as walked backwards to my car. His hands traveling down my waist, pulling me tight against him. I reached back feeling around for the door handle. Once my fingers found the latch I yanked it open and crawled in. He wasted absolutely no time, already pulling down my pants and thong and throwing them on the floorboards. His fingers worked their way inside me, clumsily feeling around like he was just taking a stab in the dark. Pun intended. His tongue was swirling around my mouth taking up way more space than it had any right to. It almost felt like I was in a tongue war with an octopus's tentacle. Cold, wet and unappealing as he continued to fumble his way around down there. Jesus was he always this bad? Or have I been elevated to a better level? His mouth tore away from mine, leaving a fair bit of spit trailing with it. Seriously he couldn't have been this bad before. Do the fake barbie bimbos he goes after enjoy this? He shifted down, crouching down so he was face level with my, very dry, core. He didn't seem to notice as he dove in. I wrinkled my nose as his tongue worked around. What in the actual fuck is he doing? It feels like a fish flopping around down there. IS HE TRYING TO BITE ME? DOES HE THINK HE'S BEING PLAYFUL? As he did, whatever it was he was doing because it was not pleasuring me that's for damn sure, I found myself wishing I had turned him down. No, I wished I was with Ed again. His skilled fingers targeting that exact spot that just made me quiver. The way he hummed against my clit as his mouth and fingers worked in tandem. I could feel myself getting aroused by the thought of it. Dylan must have thought it was his doing because I heard him whisper: "You miss this baby girl? The way my mouth feels on you?" No, not in the slightest. I actually want you to get off me now. This isn't doing it for me. Sorry, not sorry. I finally had enough and sat up. "Look, no offense Dylan, but I really do have an early start tomorrow and it's just not going to happen tonight." His head pops up, a confused look on his face. "Oh...I thought you were enjoying this...but you're right. This just isn't the right place...it's hard to make a parking lot of a bar hot when you're sober." His hand wiping off the excess spit that was coating his chin. My mind flashed back to Ed pressing me into the side of my car. His cock pressing into me through his jeans. My hips grinding against it as I straddled him in this very seat. His mouth on my neck, hands traveling over my body. No, the problem isn't the place. It's you.

You're the problem.

I quickly re-dressed, pulling my thong and jeans back on.

“I think you should go, Dylan.”

“Well… when can I see you again?”

“I don't know, I'll call you, ok?”

He left a timid peck on my cheek before pushing the car door open and hopping out. I sat in my own backseat for a while, my thoughts racing.

The fuck was that, Jac? He's a Grade A toolbag, you know that. And really? Comparing him to… Stop. Just stop.

I took a deep breath and crawled up into the driver's seat. The ride home went by in a blink, my head clearly overwhelmed and, thankfully, on auto-pilot.

I climbed the stairs up to my little apartment and sighed with relief when I reached the landing. Something caught my eye, a little glass vase of flowers were set on the doormat in front of my apartment. What the…

It was a bouquet of technicolor daisies, all pinks and purples and blues and reds. The kind they dye bright colors at the supermarket. Wedged inside the bouquet was a small handwritten card:

Look forward to working with you x

So they were from Ed. Okay.

Was it a professional gesture, or a romantic one? Shouldn't someone of Ed Sheeran’s caliber have an assistant who could send flowers for him? I had the sneaking suspicion that he had bought these, scribbled out the card, and left them here on my doorstep all himself.

I slipped the key into the lock and spilled into my apartment, utterly exhausted from the last thirty hours. I set the flowers on the kitchen counter, trying not to read into them too much.

In a desperate need to feel clean, I ran a hot shower and stood under the spray for a prolonged period of time. Fuck the draught. I just wanted to wash away all the bad decisions I had made, my skin crawling at the memory of Dylan's hands on me in the car. The way my heart had jumped up into my throat when Mark introduced me to Ed this morning. Was that just this morning? God, this has been a long day.

The hot water didn't soothe or cleanse my soul as I'd hoped it would.

What if Mark found out? About Ed? I'd be off the project, maybe even let go. Damnit, Jac, you've worked too damn hard to lose this.

The water was starting to turn cold, so I turned the faucet off and got out, towel drying my body and hair. I grabbed a ratty old band tee and pulled on a pair of boyshort panties before climbing into my bed.

It smelled of him, all subtle cinnamon and clean smell. And suddenly the night before was flashing before my eyes again, as if my brain were saying HEY !! REMEMBER !! THIS !! LET'S !! THINK !! ABOUT !! IT !! SOME !! MORE !!

It was going to be another sleepless night.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!!!