#canal homes amsterdam

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for finding this beautifully restored and preserved 1730 home in Amsterdam. 7bds, 6ba, 612 m² / 6,587 sq ft, €12m / $12.514m, and the furnishings are available to purchase.

Enter the long entrance hall.

Cozy sitting room with 2 fireside chairs and a table piled with books before the fireplace. Blissful.

Or, you can read in the sweet little library.

Aren't the stairs beautifully carved?

The dining area seats 10 comfortably.

The beautiful kitchen opens to the patio.

This home is perfection.

What a large wine room.

Such beautiful stairs are a work of art.

Lovely formal living room.

And, look at the fabulous bar.

Isn't this cubby amazing?

Pretty primary bedroom and large ensuite.

Another beautiful suite.

The attic rooms are cozy.

Beautiful bath up here.

And, then on the uppermost floor, there's this cute room.

Isn't this great? It must open the roof or something.

Home gym with a shower.

The marble in the baths is gorgeous.

Fabulous historic home on the canal.

https://www.funda.nl/detail/koop/amsterdam/huis-keizersgracht-282/43516805/

[fregolicotard]

19.09.2023

Hello, Amsterdam. As I wandered through your streets, I anticipated a mild affection for your character. Yet, what unfolded was an unexpected depth of sentiment. In each corner, a subtle understanding; in every view, a braided narrative between what was outside and how it reflected inside me. And with great joy, I slipped into a long-forgotten but familiar sensation of exploration and mirroring of self into the world.

#262of365

[mayclair]

also some snaps from my europe trip over the past few weeks 💌 !!!

[hsundholm]

Lights Across the Canal by Henrik Sundholm Via Flickr: Some boat traversing the canal in Amsterdam, Netherlands.

[fioredeciliego]

Mommy Issues - Karina x Fem!Reader

11.2k words

Moving to another country wasn’t supposed to be easy. That was the mantra Y/N repeated to herself as she dragged her luggage through the crowded halls of Schiphol Airport. The Netherlands—a world away from the life she had known, filled with unfamiliar faces, a foreign language, and customs she barely understood. Yet, this was what she wanted. This was freedom.

It had taken months to plan, years to gather the courage. Back home, there was no peace. Privacy was a luxury she could never afford in a house that was always full: her mother, her three younger siblings, the constant noise. And then there was her mother herself—a complicated, volatile presence that dominated Y/N’s life. For years, Y/N had felt more like a caretaker than a daughter, shouldering responsibilities that weren’t hers to bear. It wasn’t all bad; she loved her siblings dearly and had moments with her mother that reminded her of the love buried under the chaos. But it was never enough to outweigh the suffocating sense of inadequacy and anxiety.

She rolled her suitcase to the curb and hailed a taxi, her heart hammering in her chest as she gave the driver her new address. The cityscape of Amsterdam blurred past the window as she tried to breathe deeply, grounding herself in the present. She’d rented a small studio apartment on the outskirts of the city—a modest space, but it was hers. No one would barge in uninvited. No one would demand things of her. No one would criticize her every move.

When the taxi stopped, she lugged her suitcase up the narrow staircase to her apartment. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The silence felt foreign, almost eerie, after years of constant noise. She stood in the center of the room, taking in the plain white walls, the tiny kitchenette, the single window overlooking the street below. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

As she unpacked, her phone buzzed on the counter. Her stomach twisted when she saw the caller ID: Mom.

She hesitated, staring at the screen until it went dark. The phone buzzed again, and this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was small, almost drowned out by the static of the poor connection.

“Y/N, where are you?” her mother’s voice demanded, sharp and accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me you landed?”

“I just got in,” Y/N said, already bracing herself for the onslaught. “I was going to call you once I settled.”

“You should have called me right away. Do you know how worried I’ve been? You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

Y/N closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, the words automatic, devoid of feeling.

Her mother launched into a familiar tirade about how selfish Y/N was, how ungrateful. She didn’t ask about the flight, the new apartment, or how Y/N was feeling. It was all about her mother’s own anxiety, her fears, her sacrifices. Y/N listened in silence, letting the words wash over her. She’d heard it all before.

When the call finally ended, Y/N sank onto the couch, tears prickling her eyes. She’d left the country to escape this, yet her mother’s voice still echoed in her head, a constant reminder of her failures. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but instead, she sat there, staring at the bare walls of her new home.

--

The next few days passed in a blur of monotony. Wake up. Go to work. Eat alone. Come home. Watch TV. Sleep. Repeat. The job was unremarkable, a desk position at a small marketing firm. Her coworkers were polite but distant, their conversations flowing effortlessly in Dutch while Y/N fumbled with basic phrases. She spent her lunch breaks alone, scrolling through her phone and pretending not to notice the sidelong glances from her colleagues.

The weekends offered a slight reprieve. Y/N explored the city, wandering through parks, visiting museums, and losing herself in the maze of canals. She loved the quiet moments, the freedom to go wherever she wanted without answering to anyone. But even in the midst of Amsterdam’s beauty, she couldn’t shake the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow.

Her mother called almost every day, and every call left Y/N feeling more drained than the last. Her siblings would sometimes grab the phone, their voices bright and eager as they told her about school and their friends. Those moments were the only ones that brought a genuine smile to her face. She missed them terribly, but the thought of going back—of returning to that stifling environment—was unthinkable.

One evening, as she sat on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice flat.

“Y/N, have you thought about what I said?” her mother’s voice was softer this time, almost pleading. “You don’t have to stay there. You can come home. We need you here.”

“I can’t,” Y/N said, her throat tightening. “I need to do this for myself.”

“Your siblings miss you. I miss you.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. “I miss you too. But I can’t come back. Not now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Fine,” her mother said, her tone laced with disappointment. “Do what you want.”

The call ended, leaving Y/N feeling hollow. She set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She’d thought putting distance between them would help, but the weight of her mother’s expectations still bore down on her, even from thousands of miles away.

--

The following week, Y/N found herself walking aimlessly through Vondelpark, the crisp autumn air a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in her head. She’d taken to spending her lunch breaks there, finding solace in the rustling leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby.

She sat on a bench, pulling out a small notebook she’d started carrying with her. Writing had always been a form of escape for her, a way to process the chaos in her mind. She scribbled down a few lines, her thoughts tumbling onto the page:

I just want to feel loved. Truly loved. Not out of obligation or guilt. Loved for who I am, not for what I can do for others.

She stared at the words, her chest tightening. It felt selfish to admit, but it was the truth. For once in her life, she wanted someone to take care of her, to make her feel safe. She wanted what she’d never had—unconditional love.

⋆｡ ﾟ���︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning sunlight poured through the window of the cozy townhouse nestled in a quiet neighborhood of Amsterdam. Jimin stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the edge of her soft duvet. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling the start of another peaceful day.

Her family was always an anchor of stability in her life. Her mother, a warm and nurturing presence, was undoubtedly the heart of their home. She had a knack for making anyone feel welcome, whether it was through her perfectly brewed tea or her way of listening that made you feel truly heard. Jimin’s father balanced her mother’s kindness with his grounded practicality, always ready with a steady hand or a piece of advice. Her older sister, Hana, was her confidante and occasional partner-in-crime, always there to lend an ear or offer her unabashed honesty. Together, they formed a bubble of unconditional love that Jimin knew she was lucky to have.

Yet, even with this steadfast support system, a void lingered in her heart—an unspoken yearning for someone to share her life with.

Jimin rose from her bed, padding over to the window to look out at the serene street below. “Another day,” she murmured to herself. She glanced at her phone to see a string of messages from her best friends lighting up the screen.

Aeri: “Morning! Don’t forget, you’re walking Cooper today.”

Minjeong: “Bet she forgets and we have to chase the dog again.”

Yizhuo: “Minjeong’s just mad because Cooper likes Jimin better.”

Jimin chuckled, her heart lightening. Her friends were like family. They had been inseparable since childhood, navigating the ups and downs of life together. If her family provided her foundation, her friends were the walls and roof that sheltered her from life’s storms. But even with them, Jimin felt that persistent ache for something… or someone… she couldn’t quite name.

--

After a quick breakfast, Jimin arrived at Aeri’s house to pick up Cooper, Aeri’s spirited greyhound. Cooper bounded up to her as soon as she stepped through the door, his tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Jimin crouched down to ruffle his fur, earning a happy bark. “Ready for a walk?”

Aeri leaned against the doorway, smirking. “You’re spoiling him, you know. He’ll never want to come back to me at this rate.”

“Can you blame him? I’m way more fun,” Jimin teased, clipping on Cooper's leash.

“Just don’t lose him,” Aeri called as Jimin and Cooper headed out.

The park was a short walk from Aeri’s place, a lush expanse of greenery dotted with families, joggers, and couples enjoying the crisp morning air. Cooper tugged at the leash, eager to explore. Jimin let him lead the way, her thoughts drifting.

As much as she loved her life, it often felt… predictable. Her days were filled with love and laughter, but there was a part of her that craved something more. She wanted to be the kind of person who could offer someone the same sense of warmth and security her family had always given her. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to share her quiet moments with, someone who would trust her to take care of them.

“Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic,” she mused aloud, earning a curious tilt of Cooper’s head.

--

Later that afternoon, Jimin met up with her friends at their favorite café. The cozy space buzzed with chatter, the scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the rich aroma of coffee. Minjeong was already seated, scrolling through her phone, while Yizhuo animatedly recounted a story to Aeri.

“You’re late,” Minjeong said without looking up as Jimin slid into the booth.

“Cooper wanted to inspect every single tree in the park,” Jimin replied, grinning.

“Sure he did,” Minjeong said dryly, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“Speaking of dogs,” Aeri began, “have you guys noticed how much Jimin’s been sighing lately? Like a lovesick puppy?”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed. “I have not!”

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes. Spill. Is there someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“No,” Jimin said firmly, but her friends weren’t convinced.

“You know,” Aeri said thoughtfully, “it’s okay to admit you’re looking for someone. We all know you’ve got that whole ‘caretaker’ thing going on. You’d be a great girlfriend.”

Jimin groaned. “Why do I even hang out with you guys?”

“Because you love us,” Yizhuo quipped.

Despite their teasing, Jimin knew they were right. She was looking for someone, even if she didn’t know who yet.

--

That night, Jimin sat on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She paused on a photo from the park earlier that day—Cooper sniffing a patch of flowers, his grey fur glowing in the sunlight. It was such a simple moment, yet it had brought her so much joy.

“Maybe that’s all I’m missing,” she thought. “Someone to share the little moments with.”

She set her phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her life was full of love and laughter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone out there who needed her just as much as she needed them.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find them.

With that thought, Jimin drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with fleeting images of laughter, warmth, and a pair of eyes she hadn’t yet met but somehow already knew.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers blooming across the park. Jimin tugged at the leash in her hand, glancing down at the sleek Greyhound trotting alongside her. Cooper’s thin frame and long legs made him look almost regal, but his excitement for sniffing every patch of grass made Jimin chuckle.

"Cooper, can we stick to the path for once?" Jimin muttered, gently tugging the leash as the Greyhound veered toward another tree.

She’d agreed to take Aeri’s dog out for a walk, something she didn’t mind doing since it gave her an excuse to enjoy the peaceful weekend morning. The park was alive with activity—families on picnic blankets, joggers weaving through the paths, and couples strolling hand in hand.

Jimin barely noticed the lone figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, head bowed as if lost in thought. You had come to the park seeking a bit of calm amidst the chaos of adjusting to your new life. The sound of the fountain’s gentle splashes mixed with the distant chatter of park-goers, providing a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

Suddenly, a blur of movement snapped you out of your reverie. Before you could react, a Greyhound barreled toward you, its leash trailing behind it.

"Whoa!" you yelped as the dog jumped up, placing his paws on your lap and eagerly licking your face.

"Cooper!" a voice rang out, frantic and apologetic.

Despite the surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay! I get it, you’re excited!" you said, gently scratching the dog behind his ears.

Jimin sprinted toward you, her heart pounding from both exertion and embarrassment. She grabbed Cooper’s leash and tugged gently. "Cooper, af! Kom eraf!"

At her command, Cooper obediently stepped back, though his tail wagged with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I am so, so sorry!" Jimin blurted, her words spilling out in Dutch. "Hij doet dit normaal gesproken niet—uh, sorry! I mean... uh..."

She froze as soon as you looked up, her breath catching. Your laughter had already left her stunned, but now, meeting your gaze for the first time, Jimin felt her heart lurch. You were looking at her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, your eyes sparkling in a way that made her brain short-circuit.

Realizing she’d spoken Dutch, you blinked, scrambling to piece together the few words you recognized. "Sorry... I don’t speak Dutch," you said, your voice hesitant but kind.

Jimin’s face turned crimson. "Oh! Oh, right! English, sorry," she stammered, switching languages. "He doesn’t usually do this—I mean, he’s usually... better behaved?"

She winced at how clunky her words sounded, her usual confidence completely abandoning her under your gaze.

"It’s okay," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. You brushed some dog hair off your clothes. "He’s sweet. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, but sweet."

Jimin exhaled a laugh, relief washing over her. "Yeah, that’s Cooper for you. Always ready to make an impression."

You crouched slightly, giving the Greyhound one last pat. "Well, he succeeded. Is he yours?"

Jimin shook her head quickly, glad to have a straightforward question to answer. "No, he’s not mine. I’m just watching him for a friend. I’m Jimin, by the way."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should introduce yourself. But there was something disarming about her—the way she seemed both nervous and sincere.

"Y/N," you said, standing and offering your hand.

Jimin hesitated before taking it, her touch warm and a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. And I really am sorry about Cooper."

"Really, it’s fine," you replied, waving off her concern. "Honestly, I needed a distraction today. He’s adorable."

Jimin glanced at Cooper, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging lazily. "Adorable is one way to put it. He’s also a bit of a menace."

You laughed softly, and Jimin felt her chest tighten. The sound was so genuine, like a spark of light cutting through her nerves.

"So," Jimin began, shifting her weight awkwardly, "are you touring here?"

You tilted your head, the cliché making you grin. "Not really. I actually just moved a couple weeks ago, so I’m still figuring things out."

"Wow," Jimin said, genuinely impressed. "That’s a big change. How are you finding it so far?"

You shrugged, your gaze drifting toward the fountain. "It’s... an adjustment. Some days are harder than others."

Something in your tone made Jimin pause. She wanted to ask more, to know why your smile seemed tinged with something wistful. But instead, she nodded, her voice gentle. "I can imagine. If you ever need tips or recommendations, I’m kind of an expert. Born and raised here."

Your smile softened, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little less like an outsider. "I might take you up on that."

“Well, I really feel like I owe you something for all this,” Jimin said, gesturing to Cooper, who wagged his tail innocently as if he weren’t the culprit of the chaos.

Y/N waved it off, awkwardly chuckling. “Really, it’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Jimin shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “How about I buy you a coffee? My treat. I insist. That way we can start the tour”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at her phone as if she could escape the situation. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Jimin interrupted gently, “but I want to. Please?”

Faced with Jimin’s earnest smile, Y/N found herself nodding despite her reservations. “Okay, sure.”

--

They walked together to a small café nearby, Cooper trotting beside them, now behaving like a model citizen. The atmosphere was a little awkward at first; Y/N wasn’t used to spontaneous social interactions, especially with strangers.

Jimin, sensing the tension, started to ramble. “So, do you live around here? Or were you just visiting the park?”

“I live close by,” Y/N replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like to come here on weekends to unwind.”

“That’s nice. I come here pretty often too. Well, not usually with Cooper—that’s Aeri’s dog. She’s one of my best friends. She couldn’t walk him today, so here I am.”

Y/N nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile. “He’s sweet. A little intense, but sweet.”

Jimin grinned. “That’s a perfect description of him.”

By the time they reached the café, Jimin had managed to pull a few more details out of Y/N: she’s taking intensive dutch classes, worked a remote job, and didn’t know many people yet.

Inside the cozy café, they sat by a window with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Cooper lay sprawled under the table, finally tired out.

Jimin shared funny stories about Cooper and her friends, while Y/N talked about her favorite hobbies and places she’d discovered so far.

Jimin found herself captivated by Y/N’s laughter. It wasn’t loud or boisterous, but it was genuine, and Jimin decided she wanted to hear it as often as possible.

By the time their cups were empty, Jimin didn’t want the moment to end. As they stepped out of the café, she took a deep breath.

“Can I—uh—get your number?” Jimin asked, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “You know, so I can let you know when Cooper’s planning his next ambush.”

Y/N laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers, and Jimin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face.

As they parted ways, Jimin did a little jump of happiness. Hearing a giggle, she looked back to see that Y/N was still there, looking at her. Blushing, she clumsily waved goodbye and walked Cooper back to Aeri’s place, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

Y/N watched her retreating figure, a faint smile lingering on her lips. It had been a long time since she felt this kind of warmth.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The weekend had been unusually lively for you, though not in the traditional sense. Your apartment remained your sanctuary, the world outside still too daunting to face for long. Yet, your phone buzzed more frequently than it had in months, each notification bringing a smile to your face.

Jimin: "Do you think Cooper knows he’s a Greyhound, or does he just think he’s a really fast human?" You snorted at the absurdity of her question, shaking your head as you replied.

You: "Fast human, 100%. With questionable manners."

Jimin: "Hey, Cooper has AMAZING manners! He only licked your face because he sensed you’re nice." Jimin: "…Or maybe he just thought you smelled good. Either way, he’s the goodest boy!"

Her messages were a mix of humor and sweetness, each one pulling you further out of the fog that had settled over your mind since you’d arrived in this new country. It was strange how quickly Jimin had become a presence in your life. Her texts were the highlight of your days, her playful energy a stark contrast to the loneliness you often felt.

You spent most of Saturday exchanging messages with her, laughing at her jokes and learning more about her life. She told you about Cooper’s quirks, her friends’ antics, and her favorite spots in the city. It was easy, effortless even, and you found yourself wishing you could hold onto this feeling a little longer.

Sunday morning was no different. Jimin sent you a picture of Cooper lounging on her couch, his long legs sprawled awkwardly.

Jimin: "Look at this absolute model. He’s posing for Vogue, clearly." You: "GQ, maybe. He’s got the ‘brooding male lead’ look down."

Your laughter filled the quiet apartment, a sound that had been absent for far too long. But just as you were settling into the comfort of this new routine, your phone buzzed again, and your heart sank.

Mom.

The name on the screen felt heavier than it should have, and for a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt crept in quickly, as it always did, and you sighed, swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“Y/N,” your mom’s voice came through, sharp and impatient. “Finally. Do you ever check your phone? I’ve been calling all weekend!”

You closed your eyes, already bracing yourself for the familiar cycle. “I’ve been busy, Mom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to get things done.”

“Busy?” she scoffed. “Too busy to call your own mother? You have time to move halfway across the world but not to pick up the phone?”

Her words stung, as they always did, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m not ignoring you,” you said carefully. “I just needed some time for myself.”

“Time for yourself,” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “And what about your family, Y/N? What about me? Do you ever think about how hard it is for me to keep everything together without you?”

Your chest tightened, the familiar guilt settling in like an old friend. “Mom, I didn’t leave to hurt you. I just needed space to figure things out.”

“Space,” she said bitterly. “From your own family? From the mother who’s done everything for you? Do you even care about us anymore?”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, but you bit your tongue, refusing to let the frustration spill out. “I do care,” you said softly. “I just—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, cutting you off. “You clearly don’t have time for me. I’ll let you get back to your oh-so-busy life.”

The line went dead before you could respond. You stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room now deafening. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the weight of her words pressed down on you all the same.

You tried to shake off the heaviness, but it clung to you like a shadow. Desperate for a distraction, you opened your chat with Jimin, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: "Are you free for a call?"

Her reply came almost instantly.

Jimin: "Always! Give me 5 mins to grab headphones."

You smiled faintly at her eagerness, even as your chest still felt tight. A few moments later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You hesitated for a second before answering.

“Hey,” Jimin’s voice was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to your mood.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost feel her concern. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You hesitated, not ready to unpack the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” you admitted.

Jimin didn’t press, her voice lightening instead. “That’s okay. Want me to tell you about how Cooper tried to steal my breakfast this morning?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Tell me everything.”

And just like that, Jimin launched into a dramatic retelling of her morning, complete with exaggerated impressions of Cooper’s antics. Her voice was animated, full of warmth and humor, and it didn’t take long for her stories to pull you out of your head.

“I swear, if he had opposable thumbs, he’d be unstoppable,” Jimin said, finishing her tale of how Cooper managed to knock her cereal bowl off the counter.

You laughed, the sound feeling almost foreign after the weight of the day. “Maybe you should hire him as a food critic. He’s clearly got opinions.”

Jimin gasped theatrically. “Brilliant idea. I’ll start his blog tomorrow: Cooper’s Culinary Adventures.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—your favorite foods, her favorite spots in the city, and a heated debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (Jimin was adamantly against it, to your amusement).

As the hours slipped by, you found yourself relaxing more and more, the tightness in your chest easing with each passing moment.

“Thanks for this,” you said quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“For what?” Jimin asked, her voice genuinely puzzled.

“For... just being here,” you admitted. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Her voice softened. “Hey, anytime. Really. I like talking to you.”

Your heart warmed at her sincerity, and for the first time that day, the weight of your mom’s words didn’t feel so crushing.

The call stretched late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up. Jimin’s laughter filled the empty corners of your apartment, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

By the time you finally said goodnight, the heaviness in your chest had lifted

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The scent of spices and sizzling food filled the air as you approached Jimin’s apartment. Your stomach churned—not from hunger, but from nerves. Meeting Jimin’s friends felt like stepping into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this yet, but Jimin had insisted.

“They’re going to love you,” she’d said, her voice warm and confident over the phone.

You adjusted your grip on the small bouquet of flowers you’d brought—a gesture you hoped would make a good first impression. Maybe this would be okay.

When the door swung open, Jimin stood there, dressed in a simple yet effortlessly stylish sweater and jeans. Her warm smile eased some of your tension immediately. “Hey, you made it!” she said, stepping aside to let you in.

Her apartment was cozy, with string lights lining the walls and the faint hum of music playing in the background. The voices of her friends carried from the kitchen, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“You didn’t have to bring flowers,” Jimin said, taking the bouquet from your hands. “But they’re so pretty. Thank you!”

“I just thought it’d be nice,” you replied, your voice quiet but steady.

Jimin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, they’re going to love you. Promise.”

You nodded, though the knot of anxiety in your stomach remained as you followed her deeper into the apartment.

As you entered the kitchen, three people were clustered around a counter piled high with food. Their laughter faded as Jimin announced your arrival.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” she said, her tone bright and cheerful.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward you. For a split second, you wanted to retreat, but their faces broke into warm smiles that made you feel a little less out of place.

“Finally!” said a tall girl with sharp features and an easy grin. “Jimin’s been talking about you nonstop. I’m Aeri, by the way.”

“Minjeong,” another introduced herself, shorter with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Nice to meet the person who’s been monopolizing Jimin’s attention lately.”

“Don’t mind them,” the last one said, her tone playful. She was bubbly and energetic, her bright smile instantly infectious. “I’m Yizhuo. And I promise we’re not that scary. Just a little.”

You smiled shyly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you all,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“Come on, sit down,” Aeri said, gesturing to the table. “Jimin’s been cooking all day. She refuses to let us help, so if it’s bad, we’re blaming her.”

“Excuse me!” Jimin interjected, hands on her hips. “You’re the one who burned the rice the last time we let you cook.”

The banter flew back and forth easily, the teasing and laughter filling the room with a warmth that started to chip away at your nerves.

The table was laden with dishes—steaming bowls of pasta, fresh salad, and crispy garlic bread. As you took a seat, you noticed the effort Jimin had put into making everything perfect.

“This looks amazing,” you said, glancing at her.

She grinned. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my thing.”

As everyone dug in, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They teased Jimin mercilessly, recounting stories that had you laughing despite yourself.

“Did she tell you about the time she fell into the canal trying to impress someone?” Minjeong asked, her grin wicked.

“Hey!” Jimin protested, her cheeks flushing. “That was years ago!”

“And yet, here we are,” Aeri said, smirking.

“She never learns,” Yizhuo added. “The other day, she tripped over Cooper’s leash and spilled coffee all over herself.”

“That wasn’t my fault! Cooper’s deceptively strong!” Jimin defended, throwing a napkin at Yizhuo.

“So, Y/N,” Aeri said, leaning forward with a curious grin, “what’s your deal? How’d you end up stuck with Jimin?”

You hesitated, but their faces were open and inviting. “We met at the park,” you said, glancing at Jimin. “Your dog kind of ambushed me.”

Classic Cooper,” Minjeong said, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

“Sounds about right,” Yizhuo agreed. “But hey, at least something good came out of it.”

You smiled, feeling a little more comfortable as the conversation turned to lighter topics—favorite movies, travel destinations, and the best local restaurants.

At one point, Yizhuo turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So, Jimin’s been on her best behavior, right? No embarrassing serenades or awkward pickup lines?”

“Yizhuo!” Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands.

You laughed softly. “She’s been great. No serenades yet.”

“Key word: yet,” Minjeong teased, earning another napkin thrown her way.

As the night went on, you felt the weight of your anxiety begin to lift. Jimin’s friends had a way of making you feel like you belonged, their easy camaraderie wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone settled into a more relaxed conversation, you found yourself leaning back in your chair, feeling a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So,” Aeri said, raising her glass with a teasing grin, “if Jimin ever messes this up, just know we’re all here to steal you for ourselves. No pressure, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned dramatically. “Can you guys not scare her away?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’ll stick around for now,” you said, glancing at Jimin with a soft smile.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the city as you and Jimin strolled through a quiet street, the rhythmic hum of bicycles filling the air. The two of you had spent the day wandering through local shops, sharing little anecdotes and indulging in pastries from a nearby bakery. With every moment, you felt a little lighter, your laughter coming more easily around her.

“You have powdered sugar on your face,” Jimin said, pointing at the corner of your mouth with a teasing smile.

“Where?” you asked, swiping at your cheek.

Jimin shook her head, chuckling. “No, not there. Here—” She reached out, her thumb brushing gently against your skin. The touch was brief but enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your flustered expression.

Jimin’s grin widened, but she didn’t tease you further. “I’m just saying, it’s a sign you enjoyed the pastry.”

“Maybe I did,” you replied, your voice softer now.

The two of you continued walking, the atmosphere comfortable and filled with the kind of quiet contentment that didn’t need words. But as you reached a small bench by the canal, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

You hesitated before pulling it out. The screen lit up with a name that made your heart sink: Mom. For a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt that always lingered when you ignored her calls was too heavy to bear.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you said, stepping away from Jimin.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Take your time.”

You walked a few paces away, answering the call with a tentative, “Hello?”

Your mom’s voice came through, sharp and insistent. “Y/N, finally. I’ve been calling all day. Why haven’t you answered?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

“Busy? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than answering your mother?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

You sighed, already feeling the familiar weight settle over your chest. “I’m just out right now. I can’t talk long.”

“Out? With who? Are you making bad decisions again?” she asked, the accusation in her tone cutting deep.

“No, Mom,” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just with a friend.”

Your mom’s tone softened slightly, but the edge remained. “You’re always so distant these days. I don’t understand why you can’t make more time for your family. Do you even care about us anymore?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Of course I care,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’m trying to build my own life here. I need space.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve had all the space in the world since you left. But do you even think about how hard this has been for us? For me?”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Mom, I—”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand. You’ve abandoned us, and now you’re too busy to even talk? What kind of daughter does that?”

Her words, laced with guilt and frustration, made your grip on the phone tighten. “I’m trying my best,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

“Clearly, your best isn’t enough,” she said sharply before the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, the screen dimming as the call ended. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the guilt clawed at you, even though you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You turned back toward Jimin, who was watching you with concern. She stood as you approached, her expression soft.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently.

You tried to nod, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, you sat on the bench, staring at the ground.

Jimin hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you. She didn’t press you for details, but her presence was steady and comforting.

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, her gaze searching. “You sure?”

You hesitated, then nodded quickly. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she said softly, her tone understanding. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, and you were grateful for it.

imin didn’t look away, though, her presence steady and grounding.

After a while, she broke the quiet. “You know, if Cooper were here, he’d probably be trying to sit on your lap right now. All 30 kilograms of him.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah? Sounds like a handful.”

Jimin grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “He is. But he’s also a giant baby. Last week, he tried to hide behind me because he saw a pigeon.”

“A pigeon?” you repeated, laughter bubbling up despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jimin’s smile faltered, her tone turning sheepish. “Okay, so... I might’ve been a little scared, too.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, are you telling me you’re afraid of pigeons?”

Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not a fear! It’s just... they’re unpredictable, okay? They move too fast, and they’re always staring at you like they know your secrets.”

You burst out laughing, the sound startling even yourself. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering amuses you,” Jimin said with a mock pout, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her teasing.

“Seriously, though,” you said, your laughter subsiding into a grin, “a Greyhound and a grown woman scared of a pigeon? That’s a story for the ages.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve been on the receiving end of a pigeon’s wrath,” Jimin said, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

Her animated expressions and playful tone pulled you further away from the storm of emotions left by the call. The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it dulled under the warmth of Jimin’s company.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Jimin looked at you, her brows lifting in surprise. “For what?”

“For just... being here,” you said, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away.

A soft smile spread across her face. “Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of lighthearted conversation and quiet companionship. Jimin didn’t push you to share more, didn’t try to fix what she couldn’t understand. Instead, she simply stayed by your side, her presence a steady reassurance that you didn’t have to face everything alone.

And for now, that was enough.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The café was bustling with life, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of coffee cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You and Jimin had claimed a small table by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on her features.

As always, Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her laughter contagious and her stories brimming with energy. But today, your mind was elsewhere, pulled into a spiral you couldn’t seem to escape.

It started when a girl had walked up to your table—a tall, confident woman with a dazzling smile. She greeted Jimin with an ease that spoke of familiarity, her tone playful as they exchanged a few quick jokes. You tried to focus on your coffee, pretending the interaction didn’t bother you, but the way Jimin’s face lit up as they talked sent a pang of unease through your chest.

The woman left as quickly as she’d arrived, waving goodbye to Jimin with a wink. Jimin returned to your conversation seamlessly, completely unaware of the way your heart was now hammering in your chest.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Jimin wasn’t yours; you weren’t dating. She was just being her naturally kind and warm self. But the thought didn’t stop the flood of doubts that followed.

Why would someone like Jimin ever want someone like you?

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, startled to find her watching you with concern.

“Everything okay? You’ve been quiet.”

You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a story about her friend’s latest antics, her animated gestures drawing a small, genuine laugh from you.

But even as you smiled, the doubts lingered.

--

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. Images of Jimin laughing with that woman played on a loop in your mind, each one twisting the knife of insecurity a little deeper.

You reminded yourself again that Jimin wasn’t yours. She had every right to talk to whoever she wanted. But no matter how much you reasoned with yourself, the feelings wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more insidious. A voice in your head whispered that you weren’t good enough for someone like Jimin. That she deserved someone brighter, someone more put together, someone who didn’t carry the baggage you did.

By the time morning came, the weight of those thoughts felt unbearable.

--

Jimin noticed immediately when you met up that afternoon. She always noticed.

“You’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head as the two of you walked along the canal. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Jimin stopped walking, her hand gently catching your arm to stop you too.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your first instinct to deflect. But the concern in her eyes made it impossible to lie.

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, your voice shaky. “I’m just... in my head, I guess.”

Jimin didn’t let go of your arm. “In your head about what?”

You looked away, your gaze fixed on the water. “I just... I feel like I don’t measure up sometimes. Like I’m not... enough.”

The words felt heavy as they left your mouth, and you braced yourself for her reaction.

But Jimin didn’t look at you with pity or disbelief. She looked at you with so much care it almost hurt.

“Why would you think that?” she asked gently.

You shrugged, still unable to meet her gaze. “Because it’s true. I mean, look at you—you’re amazing, Jimin. You’re kind and beautiful and confident. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you ever...”

You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jimin stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to your hand. Her touch was steady, grounding.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. You’re amazing too, Y/N.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You don’t understand. I’m a mess, Jimin. I’ve got so much baggage, and I’m not... I’m not like you.”

Jimin squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You’re right—you’re not like me. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want you to be like me, Y/N. I want you to be you.”

Her words made your chest tighten, the sincerity in her voice breaking through the wall you’d built around yourself.

“But what if me isn’t enough?” you whispered, the question breaking your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, her other hand coming up to gently rest on your shoulder. “Y/N, you are more than enough. You’re kind, and funny, and smart. You make people feel seen and heard. You make me feel... happy. Really happy.”

You blinked, her words sinking in slowly. “I do?”

Jimin nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. “You do. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I feel like my day gets brighter. You don’t have to be anyone else or do anything special—you just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

The lump in your throat grew, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth of Jimin’s words.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

Jimin smiled, her hands giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest began to lift. Jimin’s words didn’t erase your insecurities completely, but they made them feel smaller, more manageable.

“Can we... just keep walking for a bit?” you asked, needing a moment to process everything.

“Of course,” Jimin said, her smile gentle. She let go of your hand, but only to fall into step beside you, her presence steady and comforting.

As you walked together, the canal glinting in the afternoon sun, you realized something important: Jimin saw you—truly saw you—and she didn’t run away.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start seeing yourself the way she did.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Jimin had texted you the day after the call that had left you shaken. Her message was simple:

“I was thinking... maybe we could hang out this weekend? Just you and me? Nothing too fancy, just... a date?”

Your heart had skipped a beat at the word "date." It was the first time she’d said it outright, and though the thought filled you with nervous excitement, you agreed.

So now you stood in your apartment, nervously smoothing down your outfit, when a knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Jimin standing there, a shy smile on her face—and a small bouquet of tulips in her hands.

“These are for you,” she said, her voice a little sheepish as she held them out.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought me flowers?”

Jimin shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “I figured... I don’t know, I thought you might like them.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the bouquet, the vibrant petals a burst of color against the duller tones of your thoughts. “I do. Thank you, Jimin. They’re beautiful.”

Jimin’s smile grew, and she glanced down at her shoes. “I’m glad you like them.”

You invited her in, setting the flowers in a vase with water before grabbing your coat. “So, what’s the plan for this date?”

Jimin’s grin turned playful as she said, “You’ll see.”

The surprise didn’t last long, though. Instead of a bustling restaurant or a noisy café, Jimin led you to her apartment. The choice made your heart settle—it was thoughtful, quiet, and personal, exactly what you needed.

Her place was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a faint scent of vanilla. The living room was small but thoughtfully decorated, filled with plants and little knick-knacks that spoke to Jimin’s personality. A blanket was draped over the couch, and the coffee table was set with snacks, two glasses, and a bottle of wine.

“I figured we could keep it simple,” Jimin said as she slipped off her shoes. “Movies, snacks, maybe a little wine? No pressure, though—just whatever feels comfortable.”

“Perfect,” you said, meaning it. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, this kind of quiet, personal setting was exactly what you needed.

You settled on the couch, and Jimin joined you, a movie queued up but forgotten as the two of you started talking. Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her energy infectious and her laughter like a warm hug.

Hours passed without you even realizing it, the two of you sharing stories, teasing each other, and laughing until your sides hurt. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of the moment began to stir something deeper within you—a longing to share the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

Jimin must have sensed the shift because she turned to you, her smile softening. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

You hesitated, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “I’m okay... I think.”

Jimin didn’t push. She just waited, her presence steady and reassuring, giving you the space to find your words.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “I haven’t told you much about my past... about why I moved here.”

Jimin’s expression grew serious, her gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” she said gently.

“I want to,” you said, surprising yourself with how certain you felt. “I think... I need to.”

Jimin nodded, her body angled toward you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

“It’s my mom,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s... she’s always been hard on me. Critical, demanding, never satisfied. Nothing I ever did was enough for her. And when I told her I was leaving, that I needed space, she made me feel like I was the worst person in the world for even thinking about it.”

Your hands trembled as you spoke, and Jimin reached out, her hand warm and steady on yours.

“She’d call me selfish, ungrateful,” you continued, your voice breaking. “She’d guilt me, make me feel like I owed her everything. And even now, when I’m here, she still calls and texts constantly, like she can’t let me go. And I...” You paused, swallowing hard. “I know I did the right thing by leaving, but I can’t stop feeling guilty. Like I failed her.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, but they fell anyway. “And it’s not just her. It’s... it’s everything. She’s in my head, telling me I’m not good enough, that I’ll never be good enough. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, it’s always there.”

Jimin’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch grounding you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this. You didn’t deserve it—not then, not now.”

Her words broke something in you, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a torrent of emotion you couldn’t hold back. Jimin didn’t say anything more; she just pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried into her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

When the tears subsided, you pulled back, your face warm with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Jimin said, her voice firm. “Never apologize for feeling what you feel.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I just... I want to feel loved, Jimin. Really loved. Not judged or criticized or made to feel small. I want to feel... safe. And cared for. Is that too much to ask?”

Jimin’s hands cupped your face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/N, you deserve all of that and more. You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, to be cared for in every way. And I want to be the one to give that to you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jimin...”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I know it won’t be easy, and I know you’ve been hurt. But I promise you, I’ll be patient. I’ll prove to you every day that you’re worth loving, that you’re more than enough just as you are. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me—you just have to be you. That’s all I need.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. They were from the overwhelming warmth of her words, the kindness and love she poured into them.

“Why would you want to do that for me?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Jimin smiled, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because you’re worth it. Because you’ve already made my world brighter just by being in it. And because... I think I’m falling for you.”

Her confession took your breath away, the weight of it settling in your chest like a warm glow.

Jimin took a deep breath, her hands still holding your face. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of fear and joy swirling inside you. But as you looked into her eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and warmth.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Yes, I will.”

A radiant smile spread across Jimin’s face, and before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft and gentle, a promise in itself. It felt like the walls you’d built around yourself were finally crumbling, replaced by the warmth and safety of Jimin’s embrace.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her eyes closed as she whispered, “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

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

���｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Life with Jimin was a series of small, joyful steps forward.

In the weeks following your first official date, the two of you settled into a rhythm. Weekends became sacred—a time for just the two of you. One weekend, you introduced Jimin to your favorite books, curling up on her couch as you read aloud together. Another, she taught you to make her grandmother’s favorite dumpling recipe, both of you laughing as you fumbled with the dough.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” Jimin teased, nudging you with her elbow as you successfully folded another dumpling.

“Natural talent,” you joked, feeling lighter than you had in years.

It wasn’t just weekends, though. Jimin had a way of weaving herself into your daily life in the most unexpected ways—sending you silly selfies in the middle of her workday, texting you goodnight every evening without fail, and making you laugh with her ridiculous dad jokes.

And you found yourself wanting to do the same for her. You started surprising her with little things—a playlist of songs you thought she’d like, a sketch of her dog that made her beam with delight, or simply a thoughtful text to brighten her day.

It was new, unfamiliar, but also wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved, cared for, and seen.

But as you were beginning to build something beautiful with Jimin, the shadows of your past refused to stay quiet.

It was a quiet Tuesday evening when your phone rang, the name on the screen freezing the smile on your face.

Mom.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. But the part of you that still craved her approval won out, and you answered.

“Hi, Mom,” you said softly, your voice tinged with trepidation.

Her tone was sharp from the start. “So, you’re too busy to call your mother these days?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words settling on your chest. “I’ve been busy with work and... things. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she snapped. “Do you even care about how I feel? Or is this just about you, as always?”

The accusations came quickly, each one sharper than the last. No matter how much you tried to defend yourself, to explain, she wouldn’t hear it.

“I gave you everything,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “And this is how you repay me? By running away, by abandoning me? You’re worthless. Selfish and worthless.”

Her words sliced through you, reopening old wounds you thought were healing. You managed to stammer out a weak “I have to go,” before hanging up, your hands trembling as you dropped the phone onto the table.

You tried to breathe, but your chest felt tight, each inhale jagged and shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down until you couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

Your phone buzzed on the table, but you didn’t look at it. You couldn’t.

--

Jimin frowned as she stared at her phone, her latest message to you still unread. She’d been texting you for over an hour with no response, and something about it didn’t sit right.

Normally, you’d at least send a quick reply, even if you were busy. But tonight... nothing.

She grabbed her coat, worry gnawing at her as she headed to your apartment.

When she arrived, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her worry deepened.

“Y/N? It’s me,” she called out, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m coming in, okay?”

Using the spare key you’d given her just last week, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted her broke her heart.

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the couch, your knees drawn up to your chest. Your hands were clutching your head, and your breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears streaked your face, and your whole body trembled.

“Y/N,” Jimin said softly, dropping to her knees beside you.

Your eyes darted to her, wide and filled with panic, but you didn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She sat down beside you, close but not crowding, her presence steady and grounding. “Can you try to breathe with me?” she asked gently, demonstrating slow, deep breaths. “In for four, out for four. Just like that.”

You tried to match her breaths, but your chest felt too tight, the panic refusing to release its grip.

“It’s okay if it’s hard,” Jimin said, her voice unwavering. “Just keep trying. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were a lifeline, pulling you back, little by little, from the edge. After what felt like an eternity, your breaths began to slow, the tightness in your chest easing.

Jimin reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “You’re doing so well,” she said softly.

The warmth of her touch grounded you further, and the tears started again, but this time they weren’t from panic. They were from exhaustion, from relief, from the overwhelming mix of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Jimin didn’t speak; she just held you, her arms around you like a shield against the world.

When the tears subsided, you finally found your voice, though it was barely a whisper. “She called me worthless.”

Jimin stiffened slightly, but her embrace didn’t falter. “She’s wrong,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “You are not worthless, Y/N. Not even close.”

You shook your head, the weight of her words still pressing down on you. “It feels like I am. Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone steady and unyielding. “You are enough. More than enough. Your mom... she doesn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. You are kind, thoughtful, strong, and resilient. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have a say in how you see yourself.”

Her words pierced through the fog of doubt and pain, reaching a part of you that still believed in the possibility of hope.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Jimin said. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her unwavering support, her presence, it was more than you’d ever dared to hope for.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to lean into her, to let her hold you, to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

And as Jimin whispered words of comfort and love, you felt a glimmer of something you hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

For the first time in what felt like forever, you stood at the edge of your past, ready to confront it.

The past few weeks with Jimin had been a revelation. She had shown you love and care in ways you hadn’t thought possible. With her, you felt safe enough to begin unraveling the tangled mess of your emotions and experiences.

But there was one thing you hadn’t yet faced: your mother.

Every time she called, you felt the same pull—the ache of wanting her approval mixed with the dread of her inevitable criticism. But you couldn’t live like this anymore. You couldn’t move forward with the weight of her words dragging you down.

And so, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, you decided it was time.

Jimin was by your side as always, sitting with you on the couch. Her presence was steady and reassuring, her hand warm in yours.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to do this.”

Jimin squeezed your hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. I’m right here, okay?”

You nodded, drawing strength from her unwavering support. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed.

It didn’t take long for your mom to answer. “Finally,” she said, her tone sharp. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten you had a mother.”

You closed your eyes, steadying yourself. “Hi, Mom. I wanted to talk.”

The words came out calmer than you expected, but your heart was racing.

“Oh? You have time for me now?” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “How kind of you.”

You fought the urge to apologize, knowing it would only validate her behavior. “I need to say some things,” you said instead, your voice firmer now.

“Say what?” she demanded. “How ungrateful you’ve been? How you’ve abandoned me?”

Jimin’s hand tightened around yours, grounding you as you pressed on. “No, Mom. I want to talk about how I feel. About how your words have affected me.”

Your mom scoffed. “Oh, here we go. Playing the victim now, are we?”

You clenched your free hand into a fist, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not trying to play the victim. I just need you to understand that the way you’ve treated me—calling me worthless, criticizing everything I do—it’s hurt me. It’s made me feel like I’ll never be good enough.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you thought she might actually listen. But then she spoke, her voice trembling with indignation. “After everything I’ve done for you? I sacrificed so much, and this is the thanks I get? You’re so ungrateful.”

The guilt hit you like a wave, but Jimin’s gentle touch on your hand kept you steady. She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, her silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I know you’ve done a lot for me. And I love you, Mom. I always will. But I don’t like the way you treat me. I don’t like how I feel when we talk.”

“How you feel?” she snapped. “What about how I feel? Do you even care?”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to back down. “I do care, Mom. That’s why I’m saying this. But I can’t keep sacrificing my happiness just to make you feel better. I need space. I need time to heal.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’re abandoning me again. Just like you always do.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” you said firmly, though your hands trembled. “I’m asking for space. I’m asking you to respect my boundaries. I can’t keep living like this. It’s not fair to me.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll regret this.”

Maybe you would, but you also knew you couldn’t go back to how things were. “I’m sorry if this hurts you, Mom. But I have to put myself first for once.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke, her tone cold and distant. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

The call ended abruptly, and for a moment, you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence ringing louder than her words.

Tears blurred your vision, but Jimin’s arms were around you before you could fall apart completely.

“You did it,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of pride.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice trembling. “It feels like I’ve just lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost everything,” she said gently, pulling back to look at you. “You’ve just taken the first step toward finding yourself again. And I’m so proud of you.”

Her words broke the dam inside you, and you leaned into her, crying into her shoulder as she held you. She didn’t try to fix it, didn’t tell you to stop crying. She just held you, letting you feel everything you needed to feel.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat together in silence, Jimin’s fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“I feel so... empty,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes you have to let go of what’s hurting you to make room for something better. And I promise, Y/N, there’s so much better waiting for you.”

Her words stayed with you as the days passed. Slowly but surely, you began to feel lighter. The guilt and pain didn’t disappear overnight, but they began to fade, replaced by something new.

Hope.

--

One sunny afternoon, you and Jimin took Cooper for a walk in the park. The greyhound trotted happily ahead, his tail wagging as he sniffed every blade of grass.

The park was alive with the sounds of laughter and birdsong, the crisp autumn air filled with the scent of fallen leaves.

Jimin reached for your hand, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked. Her touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a quiet sense of peace settle over you.

As you rounded a bend in the path, you spotted three familiar faces waiting by a bench.

Minjeong waved excitedly, her grin as bright as the sun. Aeri and Yizhuo were beside her, both of them holding drinks from the nearby café.

“About time you showed up!” Yizhuo called out, her voice teasing.

“Cooper needed to inspect every tree,” Jimin said with a laugh, giving the leash a gentle tug.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached them, the warmth of their welcome washing over you.

As you sat down with them, Cooper flopped onto the grass, content and happy. Jimin’s hand never left yours, her thumb brushing softly against your knuckles.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Loved. Supported. Happy.

And as you laughed with your friends, Jimin’s hand in yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. a/n: this one was easier to write, probably because it hits a bit to close to home lol

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women. 

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls. 

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks. 

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind. 

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse. 

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment. 

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep. 

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

[alotofpockets]

Just like Mama | Alexia Putellas x Reader

Where your daughter wants to be just like her mama

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.1k

-----

“Mama scored!” Your daughter Talia jumped up from the couch and ran a celebratory lap around the coffee table, ending her lap in your arms. 

“Yes she did! Did you see that she did your celebration, Carinyo?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Mama scored for me.” You kiss her on her cheek. “She always does.” Talia cuddles back into your side, as the match plays on.

Since Talia had started pre-school you weren’t able to go see her Mama play as often as you used to. You went to all the home games, but away games that involve travelling, were less practical now that your baby was growing. Despite not always being able to go watch your wife’s matches live, you and Talia never missed a match. 

Alexia had been nervous about not being related to your daughter by blood, when you were still pregnant, but while Talia was biologically yours, she was a carbon copy of your wife. They shared the same passion for football, the same big heart, the same shyness, and the characteristics were uncanny. 

“Mommy?” You hear the sadness laced into your daughter’s voice, and are fast to her side. “What’s wrong, Carinyo?” With big sad eyes she tells you that she misses her Mama. “I miss her too. Do you know what I like to do when I miss Mama?” Your four year old shakes her head, but you could tell in her eyes that you had piqued her interest. 

You grab your phone out of your pocket. “I like to look at pictures of Mama, and think about the memories I have from those moments. Would you like to give it a try?” You took Talia crawling into your lap as a yes and got the first picture ready on your phone.

“Hey, we have that one at home!” Talia instantly recognised the Ballon d’Or trophy that sat on the shelves of your home office. “Yeah, that’s right. Mama won two of these trophies, they’re called Ballon d’Or’s. This was the first time she won it, and it means that she was the best footballer that season.” Talia nodded with a content smile, “Mama is the best.”

“Do you know who that is, Carinyo?” Talia observes the next image. Alexia holding a baby in her arms. “Is that me, Mommy?” You nod with a smile on your face. “It is! That’s the day that Mama and I got to bring you home from the hospital for the first time.” The memory brings a smile to your face. Bringing Talia home for the first time had been both scary and amazing. It was your and Alexia’s first time being alone with Talia, no more doctors around to help you as the first time parents that you were. But also the moment the reality of your family expanding started to feel real. No longer just the two of you at home, but now a family of three.

“This one isn’t from too long ago. Remember Mama’s birthday?” Talia thought for a moment before exclaiming, “We had cake!” You chuckle at the part of the day she remembered, but she wasn’t wrong. “That’s right, we did have cake.”

The next picture on your phone brings an instant smile to your face, it’s an image of your wife posing on a bridge over the canals of Amsterdam. “This is when I took Mama on a little weekend trip to Amsterdam. It was a very special trip, do you know why?” Talia shakes her head. “Why Mommy?” You place a loving kiss onto her head. “I’ll tell you why, Carinyo. I told Mama we were going to have a baby on this trip, that we were pregnant with you.” Talia seems deep in thought for a moment. “Mommy, have I been to Amsterdam?” 

“Well only when you were still a tiny baby growing in my tummy.” With a determined look she turned your way. “Can we go now that I’m a big girl?” 

You loved your little girl with all your heart, and yes to you she would always be your little girl, no matter how often she would say she’s a big girl now. “Yeah, Carinyo, I think we can take a little trip as a family when Mama has some time off next.” Content with that answer, Talia requested the next picture.

“In this one Mama had just won the World Cup, and that’s you celebrating with her on the field.” Talia was too young to remember the moment, but it would forever be one you’d hold close to your heart. Your wife accomplished something incredible and for the first time she was able to celebrate a trophy with her daughter. 

While your mind went back to 2023 and the moment the final whistle blew, watching the girls win, your daughter’s mind was focussed on something else. “Mama had pink hair.” You remember Ale coming home from running errands with her hair dyed a bright pink a few days before leaving for the World Cup. To say you were surprised was an understatement, sure Alexia dyed her hair every now and then, but usually they had been neutral colours. You loved her with any hair colour though, even the pink looked amazing on her.

“Can I have pink hair like Mama, please?” You were hesitant at first, but the many pleas that followed after with the best puppy dog eyes Talia could manage, you caved. “Alright, why not. Let’s surprise Mama with it.” 

Talia was overjoyed with her new hair, and walked around saying “Just like Mama.” every time she saw herself in a reflection. 

Clad in her FC Barcelona kit, you took her to pick up your wife. The moment she saw Ale she ran towards her Mama. First she ran in for a hug, cause she missed her so much, but after she stepped back and proudly showed off her hair. “Look Mama, just like you!” Alexia took in the look, and smiled at her daughter, “Just like Mama, I like it. You look very pretty.” 

She picked up Talia and walked to your side. “Surprising me like I surprised you before the World Cup?” She smirked.

You raise your hand in surrender, “It was all her idea, I just provided the hair dye.” She pecked your lips and hugged you with Talia still in her arms. “Let’s go home. I’ve missed cuddling with my favourite girls.”

----- 💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[engeorged]

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it. 

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day. 

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. “That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step. 

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up. 

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement. 

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface. 

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting. 

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated  than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut." 

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

For part two

For more of my stories click here

[thenordroom]

This Week on The Nordroom

Limewash Paint and Artisan Wallpaper in a London Townhouse

A Small Light Filled Apartment with Plants and Color

A Small Gray Apartment with Industrial Glass Walls

Rich Colors and Patterns in a London Townhouse

A Luxurious Apartment in an Amsterdam Canal House

Light Rooms and Soft Color Tones in a Swedish Apartment

A Green Living Room in a London Maisonette

A Light Colored Swedish Apartment

A Corner Apartment with an Industrial Style Kitchen

An Extended Victorian House Decorated in Gray Tones

A London Family Home with Blue Color Accents

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for finding this canal house that was remodeled in 2018 with such interesting architectural features. It's located in Bellamybuurt-South Amsterdam, which they say is a great place for ex-pats. It's a 6th fl. duplex penthouse, 6bds, 2.5ba, €2.65m / $2.72m + €714.24mo. / $733mo. HOA.

Very roomy layout w/a giant skylight.

Lots of natural light and 2 doorways to the terrace.

Beautiful wall and stairs.

There's even a wine rack underneath.

The extension on the island is much better than a counter, it's an actual table. Kitchen opens to a terrace.

Terrace behind the kitchen.

I love the way that you can go under the stairs. How cozy.

I wonder if that beam would hold an adult, too.

One of 6 bds., the primary has access to the terrace.

Bath #2 is lovely. I like the ambience of the lighting.

Playroom with a climbing wall.

Child's room can accommodate a nice long slide.

And, it has sliders to the deck.

Another cool child's room, and it's built-in.

Half bath down the hall.

Sunny bonus room with a deck.

Multiple outdoor areas.

Outdoor entrance and elevator.

Nice parking garage.

Isn't the neighborhood gorgeous?

https://www.funda.nl/detail/koop/amsterdam/appartement-bilderdijkkade-50-c11/43775075/

[jellylimesoda]

beautiful city

pairing ; jamie tartt x f!reader

wc ; 740

prompt ; when they accidentally fall asleep on you / in your arms

warnings ; mentions of jamie's shitty dad

—----------------------

Amsterdam was the most beautiful city you had ever visited, and the fact that you got to explore it with your boyfriend made it an even more beautiful experience. 

With Jamie's help, you had created nothing but positive memories in Amsterdam, and hoped that you could help erase the horrid memories his dad had forced on him of this wonderful city. 

Because of the lack of a curfew for any of the team, the two of you had unknowingly stayed out all night and had only realised the time when you saw the sun rising over the canal. 

There were no words to describe how wonderful your night had been, but the lack of sleep was catching up on both of you as you finished up packing your bags in the hotel room, ready to return to Richmond in just under an hour. 

Sat on the hotel bed folding up your sweatshirt, you were incredibly tempted to just lean back against the ruffled duvet and pillows and sleep, but just as you started slipping back into the soft fabric, jamie returned from his short errand with two takeaway cups in a holder in one hand and a paper bag in the other. 

When the room door shut behind him you shot up again and speedily slid your jumper into your bag. 

“ hey babe, got us some tea to keep us awake for a little bit…” he explained, setting the cups down on the bedside table along with the bag of pastries. 

“ thanks “ you replied, stifling a yawn as you zipped up your bag and set it down on the floor by the bed. “ maybe it’ll work after i fall asleep “ you muttered, leaning back against the pillows, your eyes falling shut as the urge to sleep overwhelmed you. 

“ no.. shit.. Babe. ya can’t fall asleep. It’s a different time zone and we gotta get down to the coach “ 

You knew that that made a lot of sense but you could sense your body shutting down against the cotton fabric. 

But before you could let yourself completely go, you felt jamie’s arms lifting you to a sitting position, his colder hands resting on your cheeks. 

You forced your eyes open a couple of times to try and wake yourself up and it worked for a few moments, causing a soft smile to spread across jamies lips before he pressed a short kiss to your forehead. 

“ c’mon, i’ll grab the bags, you grab the teas and we’ll head down to the coach.” he proposed and you shook your head in a tired nod before standing from the bed. 

You did as jamie suggested, grabbing the teas and pastries he had collected while he grabbed the bags from the floor. 

You had never been more thankful for automatic checkout. You grabbed the room key and once in the lobby you dropped the key into a box and left the hotel, going straight for the Richmond branded coach in the car park. 

Once jamie dropped the bags under the coach, he took the pastries from you to free up one of your hands and led you onto the vehicle, heading for a seat to stay in for the next number of hours. 

Once sat down against the window, jamie unfolded the tray table in front of him and set everything in front of him so you could get in beside him, your head instantly taking residence on his shoulder. 

A smile settled on his lips, knowing you were too tired to stay up for the entire 8 hour coach journey. He had at least expected you to last until they left but apparently not. 

He gently lifted you to move the armrest between the two and settled you back against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your body in hopes to prevent you from jostling too much during the ride. 

He knew you weren't going to be able to sleep once you got home but that was something the two of you could deal with later. 

As for right now, he was content to let you use his arm so you could sleep comfortably. 

Before he got too comfortable, he pulled out his earphones from his pocket and slotted them in, finally closing his eyes for the first time since before the match yesterday. 

Even if they didn't win the match, it had been one of the best weekends he had spent in this beautiful city.

[landinrris]

oh that was me with the lando & martin timeline anon. the full timeline may make your brain melt more. this is the stuff we know about for sure:

met late summer 2022 at one of martin's gigs in Ibiza - lando was there on vacation with max f, ollie etc. the video going around of them at fisher's gig was a couple of days after martin's.

sept 2022 monza gp - martin was at the race even though he wasn't playing and was with mclaren - they posted pics of him and daniel in their hospitality. after the race, lando posted pics of them him & martin leaving in a heli - he called martin his uber driver 🤣. lando stayed in amsterdam for a few days. both of them posted videos of them on martin's boat on the canals with martin's friend jurrian. local gossip sites mentioned they'd been seen in restaurants with friends. in this time martin bought lando his decks. lando posted pics of himself with them on the plane back to the uk and martin said in an interview a few months later that he had bought them as a gift for lando.

oct 2022 - hang out after the mexico gp - there are clips on tiktok of them at a club.

dec 2022 dubai - martin was playing there on 30th dec, turned up a few days early and hung out with lando. martin posted pics of them on his insta with some masks & there was a video of them playing padel with martin k and someone else. lando's friends all posted from the vip section at martin's gig.

jan 2023 - following martin's gig in thailand, he and louis met up with lando & martin k and they all flew to finland for several days - lots of pics and videos - then on to ibiza for a few more days - martin has a home there and his parents & sister spend a lot of time there and were with them - martin posted a pic of himself with his family and also there were videos of lando and both martins on a hike. martin then flew to nice the same day lando went back to monaco - he posted a pic of himself the next day in nice getting a haircut.

may 2023 miami gp - martin was playing at the miami race. that's where the nipple pinch pics come from & also this gem https://www.tumblr.com/alexi-01/716928290612559872/stop-this-is-so-cute-look-at-martijns-face?source=share

june 2023 - arrive early together in nyc and hang out ahead of lando's press stuff. martin's parents and sister were also with them - there's a pic of them with lando & martin in a japanese tea house. lando stays through to martin's gig and arrives late for thursday media day in canada. martin shows up to play after the gp in canada. he and lando were out together that evening in montreal - a dj in the bar they were in took pics with them both. next day lando posts a pic of video of him, martin & louis on a hotel balcony.

july 2023 - max v & lando go to tomorrowland after the spa gp. max is in vip with his family, lando is up on stage with martin trying but failing to hide behind some speakers. videos of them at the afterpary. lando then goes to amsterdam for a couple of days before he has to be back in spa - posted a pic of the view from martin's place & a pic leaked of them playing pool.

august 2023 - after being on vacation with his family lando goes to ibiza. missed all his friends who had been there all summer, stays with martin's childhood friends incl jurrian from the amsterdam boat. pics of them out celebrating ward and jurrian's bdays and the afterparty of martin's show. lando then flies with martin to his shows in bratislava and then marseille - was pictured in bratislava plus martin posted a story with him in and lando let the marseille detail out in a ziggo interview at the amsterdam gp.

sept 2023 - zandvoort gp martin hanging with lando's dad on the grid. after the race there's a video of the two of them getting out of a van at amsterdam airport and boarding max v's plane which flew to monaco.

oct 2023 - hung out after the mexico gp after lando had had dinner with carlos. i follow a friend of lando & max v's who lives in mexico city who now has a locked account so the pics aren't public but he posted pics of both of them and martin started following him. swedish house mafia guys were also there (assumption carlos may have been there too as even though there were no pics the guy started following him as well though carlos didn't follow back)

nov 2023 - that hug at the vegas gp. local papers reported lando was also in the club with martin and max v but there are no pics and as he was probably still in some pain after his crash it's likely they confused thierry v with lando.

dec 2023 - ski trip with lando's friends. martin flew directly back from gigs in singapore and malaysia to join up with them.

to be continued...

and that's just the stuff we know about lol. bffs of w/e else, anyone's guess at this point, but they really did become very close very quickly.

Anon, I am giving you a big ole fat kiss on the forehead. God bless you for this breakdown ❤️❤️❤️

So much stuff happens throughout the season that I routinely forget tiny details (especially ones you've listed here like the family dinner in New York). To see them all spelled out here is 😘🤌

[of-apollo]

Overnight in Amsterdam

PAIRING: Dani Rojas x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: After your karaoke plans fall through, you end up having one hell of a night out at the jazz club with Higgins and Will. When you get back drunk and tired, Dani is there to take care of you.

WARNINGS: Alcohol, drunkenness, hangovers and spoilers for Ted Lasso!

—

When Rebecca had asked you to come to Amsterdam, you couldn’t say no. You were the teams social media manager, and though you could very easily do your job from home, Rebecca invited you under the guise that it’d be easier for you to be at the match and around the team. In reality, she just wanted to take you and Keeley to a karaoke bar and get absolutely obliterated. You obliged whatever the reason.

The match had gone about as successfully as most Richmond matches, which wasn’t very. You were thrilled to be there, though. The atmosphere of a stadium was unmatched no matter who was winning or losing. You also couldn’t deny that watching your boyfriend chasing a ball all serious-looking and then breaking out into a huge, satisfied grin when he scored made you feel all warm and full of love. You’d follow him anywhere (so long as Rebecca Welton was paying for the private jet to get there).

So, the match was over now, and after meeting with Dani briefly to congratulate him on how well he played, you went your separate ways. You knew he’d likely go out clubbing with the other players, and you’d be out with Rebecca and Keeley, so you’d likely cross paths in a few hours anyway.

Or, at least you thought you’d be out with Rebecca and Keeley.

You were almost ready, just adding a few accessories to your outfit when there was a knock on the door. You huffed in irritation, hating the interruption as you paused your music and made your way over to the door, opening it to reveal Higgins. Will, the kit man, stood behind him looking as awkward as ever.

“Higgins, Will,” you greeted with a small smile and nod. “Is everything alright?”

Higgins nodded an enthusiastic ‘yes’, and then he made that odd choking noise that you dreaded to hear. He pursed his lips, shaking his head before speaking, “I’ve come to let you know that Rebecca isn’t able to make tonight. She had a bit of an accident falling into the canal and rang to say that she’s staying with a friend for the night.”

“Ohh, a friend!” you smirked, your teasing tone pushing through the hint of disappointment you felt. “I hope somebody filmed her fall. Well, I guess Keeley and I will still go out.”

“Keeley might struggle to make it seeing as she is, well, on a plane with Jack,” explained Higgins with an frown. You almost visibly grimaced at the sound of Jack’s name, having agreed with Rebecca that there was something off about her.

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly, glancing down at your outfit with a hint of sadness. You knew they’d both be having fun, but you wanted to have fun with them, and neither of them had even personally told you that they couldn’t make it. You shook it off, gesturing to your outfit with a shrug before smiling at Higgins and Will. “Well, I’ll just go and change in that case. You two off anywhere nice tonight?”

“The red light district!” said Will excitedly, and you had to hold back a laugh as you wondered if he knew what that meant. “I can’t wait!”

“Yes, some of the best jazz clubs in all of Amsterdam are waiting for us,” said Higgins, sounding more excited than you’d ever heard him. It was sweet. A thought popped into his head then, and he pointed to you with a grin. “You’re more than welcome to join us! You shouldn’t waste a lovely night.”

The question caught you off guard, having never had a proper conversation with either of the men outside of work. But, you figured that if you said no, you’d likely spend the night sat in your room watching TV. Or, worse, you’d end up downstairs with the team as they tried to figure out what to do with their night. They would bicker, Isaac would eventually decide on behalf of everyone, half of them would mope and you could not be bothered to deal with them. It was Amsterdam, and you wanted to drink.

“Yeah! I’d like that,” you beamed, “Let me just grab my phone and key.”

You let the door shut and hurried back into your room, grabbing your phone from the desk and sending a quick text to Dani to let him know what was happening. He sent a few question marks when you mentioned the red light district, but you decided that explanation could wait an eternity. You grabbed your key and before you knew it, you were stuffed in the back of a taxi between Higgins and Will, the three of you loudly singing along to Adore You by Harry Styles and undoubted making the driver deeply regret his career choice.

It wasn’t long until they were in the jazz club, and you were enjoying the vibes of dim lights, the gentle hum of music and a lengthy cocktail menu. Within an hour, you were four cocktails in and felt a happy buzz thrumming through your body, dancing in circles with girls you’d never met and having the absolute time of your life. And then an hour later, you were as energetic as ever, a tequila sunrise in hand nearly spilling out of the glass as you jumped around with Will, the poor boy struggling to keep up with your energy.

“I think it’s about time we head back now,” suggested Higgins, an amused grin on his face as he took the cocktail out of your hand before you almost spilled it down Will’s back. “Early bus tomorrow, unfortunately.”

You pouted, but obliged regardless, turning to wave goodbye to the girls you had danced with before quickly downing your last drink. It stung your throat ever so slightly, causing you to wince before shaking it off and slamming the cup down on the counter. Higgins thanked the Lord that it was a plastic cup, and then he was leading you out of the jazz club, trying not to laugh as you stumbled your way back to the taxi. As you talked on and he made sure you were comfortable and drank water, he was beginning to feel like he’d accidentally adopted a fifth child when he invited you out.

“Thank God,” huffed Higgins when he walked into the hotel, seeing that the entire team was still in the lobby. Then the scene before him caught on, and he was stressed all over again.

The lobby was a complete and utter mess. Feathers were scattered everywhere along with half-empty drinks and stacks of plates, suggesting that they ended up staying in after all. None of them had even noticed the three of you had entered, still laughing and shouting with joy as they beat each other with pillows and childlike grins. It was the scene of absolute joy, and you, in all your drunken glory, wanted nothing more than to join in.

You were dragging Higgins and Will in straight away, the three of you ducking and weaving. The two men were yelling in alarm, but you couldn’t stop giggling, letting go of their hands and running around to hug all of your friends. Then, you spotted a familiar head of raven hair, and you were running as fast as you could, leaping onto his back and nearly knocking him to the floor.

“Dani!” you cheered, arms looping around his neck as you poked your head around and kissed his cheek.

“My love!” beamed Dani, adjusting you so that you were clinging onto his front instead. He pressed a kiss to your lips, eyeing you with an accusatory smirk as he tasted the subtle hints of tequila and orange juice. “Did you have a good time?”

“The best time!” you yawned suddenly, eyes beginning to feel heavy. “Did you?”

“Yes,” grinned Dani, a hand reaching to brush a hair from your face, then cupping your cheek adoringly. “I wanted to go to see a tulip, but this was a lot more fun and a lot less overwhelming, I think.”

“I’ll take you to the tulips,” you murmured, vaguely remembering a field you had seen outside a windmill when you’d taken a walk with Keeley upon arrival. “I want to give you all the tulips in the world.”

“You don’t understand how perfect you are, mi amor,” smiled Dani, gently kissing your forehead. As much as he wanted to spend time with you in a field of flowers, you were literally half-asleep and intoxicated. “Maybe tomorrow, hm? We need to sleep first.”

“Yeah,” you sighed contently, resting your head against his shoulder and smiling warmly. “That sounds good…”

Dani hummed in agreement, about to ask where you saw the tulips when he heard gentle snores coming from you. He smiled, adjusting you ever so carefully so that he wouldn’t drop you on his way to his room.

Isaac noticed Dani walking off with you and turned to shush everyone, the players quieting down momentarily with the exception of a few ‘aw’s’ and camera shutters going off. As soon as the two of you were in the elevator, they resumed the pillow fight, shouts, laughs and feathers filling the lobby again. God, it was beginning to look like a chicken coop had exploded, or a Harry Styles concert with white boas only had taken place there.

Dani walked down the hallway to his room, having no idea how to get to yours and not wanting to wake you to ask. He fumbled with the keycard a little bit, cursing as he dropped it and had to squat down with you in his arms to pick it up. You stirred a little bit at the sudden motion, and Dani came to an immediate halt, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder as he gently shushed you. He managed to get the key without further disturbance, standing back up and scanning it then nudging the door open with his foot.

Dani didn’t bother turning the lights on, just squinting in the moonlight that shone through the large rectangular window to find his way around. He managed to pull the duvet off the bed just enough to place you under it, taking off your shoes and emptying your pockets before tucking you in. The moonlight looked gorgeous on your face, and he longed to see how it would look in your eyes. Now was not the time for that, Dani realised. You would have many more moonlit nights to come.

So, instead, he smoothed your hair out of your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering a gentle ‘goodnight, my star’ before going to get changed so he could sleep away next to you.

It was fair to say that you were in a bit of a state. Your head was pounding, and you didn’t recognise the room, only knowing who the room belonged to because of the familiar ‘ROJAS’ jersey strung across an armchair and Dani’s usual array of graphic tees flooding out of a suitcase on the floor. You lover him, but that man was not the tidiest when travelling.

But, as always, Dani was there with ice cold water and a warm smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and tracing circles on from your lower back to your shoulders soothingly.

“Buenos días,” greeted Dani as you came to.

“Hi,” you replied, unable to keep a small smile from your face despite your tiredness when you heard his voice. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Not as much as you,” teased Dani.

“Don’t,” you protested with a groan, finally dropping your hand from your face to see Dani’s amused smirk. “I loved it, but I regret it because my head is spinning. Give me a few hours, though.”

Dani laughed heartily, leaning down to kiss your temple before getting up to get ready. You mirrored his actions, though at a significantly slower pace and not after drinking a bucket load of water and spent a few moments reflecting on the choices that led you to such a violent hangover.

A few hours later, you were ready to board the bus home, opting against Rebecca’s private jet, mainly because she had yet to show up but also because you’d quite like to nap for a few hours with your head on Dani’s shoulder. You had spent the remainder of your morning apart, you going to the market with Colin and Trent to pick up some souvenirs. Well, they were, anyway. Your heart was set on something more important.

“Hi, love,” you greeted Dani when you made it to the bus, dropping your duffel bag with the other luggage for the drivers to put under the bus.

“Hello,” grinned Dani, cooly leaning against the side of the bus as he had been waiting for you. He tucked his phone in the pocket of his suede jacket and then gestured to your arms that were bent behind your back, hiding something. “What have you got there?”

“Tulips,” you smiled, holding out a bouquet of half a dozen yellow tulips. “For you.”

“For me! Dios mio, you are the best,” exhaled Dani, his smile reaching his eyes as he took the flowers and inhaled their scent. “Just as beautiful as I imagined.”

[wifetomegatron]

countries and cities i've been to that i think the lost light crew will enjoy (vol. i)

i think ratchet would like switzerland. snowy alps, open green fields where purple and yellow poppies littered across the grass dance with the northern wind. he enjoys the secluded valleys and will spend hours just driving past the topaz lakes. he likes the quiet of it all, the serenity, the closure. he makes drift join him in their holoforms to walk, taking in the traditional log houses and brightly-colored buildings, shops, and restaurants surrounded by lush woodlands, upland meadows, and snow-capped cliffs. grindelwald because drift is fascinated by humans and their winter sports, ascona for when it gets warmer and the boats are out by the docks. in a first contact au, ratchet would most likely end up working in either zurich or geneva, working closely with earth's international bodies like the united nations to facilitate human-cybertronian relations. i can also see the medic crew stationed there as well; running the first cybertronian medical facility on earth.

drift, predictably, would prefer japan more. osaka and tokyo for its entertainment, where he and rodimus would spend hours exploring the nightlife in their disguises. at times, they would even go as their alt-modes. rodimus gets ahead of himself with all the attention he's getting. he'd travel through many prefectures, driving past the borders to clear his head — perks of having a conjunx that works closely with human organizations is that he gets exempted from all the paperwork — but always end up somewhere private, tranquil. the shrines, the forests, the mountains — he would even be bold enough to dream of settling down there. one time ratchet flew in to visit him at a resort by the foot of mount fuji, and his husband was neck-deep inside the natural saunas. content and purring, sinking into recharge against the stones.

i have a feeling brainstorm and skids would stir up trouble somewhere in the netherlands. most likely in the infamous lecture halls of leiden university, where great minds like descartes and rembrandt once walked in. they'd hate the weather, where the sun becomes optional the moment it hits autumn (even before, apparently.) the roads are small, so they'd have difficulty navigating at first, nearly driving into a canal because of how fast people bike. direct, with just the right amount of witty, the pair are glad to enjoy the company of dutchies without having to rely on their (human) food because nothing that they've seen looks appealing or digestible. getaway is also there, most likely in amsterdam, where his holoform is most likely to get cornered in an alley and have his bike stolen.

nautica would love the sea, the vast, great open oceans of southeast asia would be the perfect place for her. ever the adventurer, she would drag riptide and velocity with her to explore the islands of the philippines & indonesia. where she'd learn how to dive and swim with the animals past the coral reefs. sweet girl nearly cried when she saw a group of whale sharks. anode and lug are content sitting by the beach, sipping on their latest invention — coconut-infused energon. bali is where i imagine the girls ( and riptide ) would go for a nice getaway. the people are all smiles, warm and friendly, and passionate about their culture. even if the two are more inclined towards the sciences, the flourishing art and spirituality of the balinese people made them feel at home again. ( if not nostalgic for caminus.)

i know rodimus is living his life in spain. maybe it won't be his designated home on earth. but with the lost light stationed in geneva, where ratchet, minimus, and megatron are with the rest of the united nations council ( because there is no way they can park the ship anywhere in the new york branch ), barcelona was his first solo trip on earth without straying too far from his co-captain's watchful eye. it was the peak of summer and there he was under the sun. the people were only initially surprised, but then again, they'd probably seen weirder things than a sixty-foot-tall robot asking them if he could join their game of volley by the beach. he bumps into krok and his rag-tag team — who's also trying to get away from minimus — so that's how he and misfire end up nearly drowning after a competitive game of water tag.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

This was the other request that my dear, @mqsi passed me on and it says: Heyy, I have a request maybe were you take pedri/gavi to your native country and do all kind of things there. I'm from Amsterdam so like biking around (I think Gavi would fail🤣) and like fluffly things.

Truly sorry for the lateness of this, being honest I didn't know what to do with this one😭. This is a little blurb, btw

Also, this request got me imagining taking either Gavi or Pedri to🇻🇪 for vacations🤣 @gaviypedrisbride can you imagine? 🤣🤭🥴

Your World -P.G

Summary: You show Gavi the place you're from

°°° °°° °°° °°°

"C'mon, bebé" You said watching Gavi once more lose a bit of control with his bicycle "You can do it"

"I know I can" He said stopping making you stop as well "It's just this fucking bike that is not doing what I say" You suppressed laugh

"Your feet and hands are the ones telling what to do"

"And it doesn't cooperate!" This time you laughed leaning over to leave a kiss on his cheek giggling

"What about we do something else?" You tried to come up with another thing. Pablo and you were in your home, Amsterdam; he wanted to know your place, where you grew up when you were five and what did you do in the city that brought so many good memories from you and seeing as he got a week off he wanted to spend it there with you.

You were on your third day here, the first one spent on recovering from the jet lag and the other walking around the city when Pablo asked you for the usual stuffs you do there, so these next days were about that.

And everybody should know, in Amsterdam all you do is biking around, so that's how you ended up here.

"Eventually I have to get this" You nod

"You will. Just don't put too much preassure on you" You giggled

"What do we do then?" He asked sat on the bike's seat.

"We can go to Anne Frank's House Museum" He cut you off

"For that you need to have tickets, preciosa"

"Who says I don't?" You smiled winking at him "We can also go to the STRAAT Museum, which is a museum dedicated to graffiti and street art. We can do a canal cruise, eat something in Foodhallen..." You shrug your shoulders "You tell me what do you wanna do first, lindo" You looked at him

"How about we do all of that?" Your smile grew

"Great! That's perfect! I really hoped you said something among those lines because we have to be at Anne Frank's House Museum in the next hour and we're aproximatedly fourty-five minutes away"

"Why didn't you said that before?" He asked surprised

"I kinda forgot" You said slowly "It's really distratcing for me watching you fool around and act cute with the bike" You laugh

"My falls aren't cute" You keep on laughing whilst nodding your head

"They are and the pout you do makes me want to kiss you everytime" You smiled "We need to go so we can make it"

"Amor but the bikes aren't cooperating with me!" His eyebrows furrowed a bit "Also can you give me those kisses?" You rolled your eyes lightly smiling but still gave him a few pecks on his lips, the last kiss being the longest one

"Let's change these for a double seat one then"

"Wait, what?"

"Yes"

"No!"

...

"C'mon, Pabs... All you need to do is pedal, I'm gonna lead us. Please, don't make us fall"

"Please, don't say that" You laugh reaching behind to grab his hand.

"You can pay dinner for this, amorcito. Don't you worry" You said beggining your travel when you felt Pablo scream "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

...

"So, you liked today?" You ask smiling as he feed you a bit of his ice cream

"Those were so many stairs" You laughed

"Aren't you a football player? Don't you spent 90 minutes running around a pitch?"

"That's different!"

"How's that even different? You need resistence to manage the whole game and you couldn't climb a few stairs?"

"A few" He mumbled shaking his head as you laugh

"The rest was nice" He nodded "But I keep telling you, there was a big fish on that cruise"

"There aren't but if they are? You let them be"

"Not if they were going to attack me and my girlfriend!" You laugh at his silliness

"Do you like my place?" You ask for real this time as he nods

"It's truly beautiful and I can't wait to explore more of it and keep on coming back every chance we got" You smiled

"And you will learn how to bike, right?"

"I know how to!" Pablo exclaimed "It's just the bikes here are different from Spain's ones" You laughed

"That doesn't even make sense, Pabs. Bikes are bikes, all over the world"

"It doesn't matter, next time here I'll crush them" He looked at you leaning down to kiss you "But I really enjoyed the double one" You high five him

"I know you did"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[backtothefanfiction]

Can’t Swing Home From Amsterdam | tasm!Peter Parker

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: Based on the fact I am currently stuck at the airport with a delayed flight.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No, I want to get on the plane and just go home.”

It’s not Peter’s fault the plane has been delayed. Your trip to Amsterdam had been an absolute dream. It had been Peter’s birthday gift to you. He did the whole Augustus Water’s thing of taking you for a picnic in the park because he knows The Fault in our Stars is one of your favourite books. You drank champagne with orange juice in the afternoon sun of Central Park, your screams of delight at the news scaring away the pigeons.

Your flight out went without a hitch. It had been an evening flight. You had your little airplane meal, whilst watching the latest superhero blockbuster on the tiny screen attached to the seat in front of you. When you were done, you wrapped your legs over Peter’s in the seat next to you and curled into his side to sleep. Waking up for a quick continental breakfast before landing. When you hit the ground the other side you were up and raring to go.

You hit the ground running. With a quick stop at your hotel to drop off your bags, you began walking the streets of Amsterdam. You had coffee and pastries at a small little cafe on the bank of one of the canals, waving to the occupants of boats as they passed.

You stopped by the Anne Frank museum. Peter wrapped his arms around you and tried to kiss you and recreate that moment from the movie, but you got embarrassed by all the people around and tried to squirm away from him but he just held you tighter, settling for a smooshed kiss against your cheek as you turned your head and blushed into his shoulder.

You rented bikes and downloaded a podcast to listen to and did a bike ride tour of all the tourist spots in the city.

On the last day you even traveled to check out the famous tulip fields. Peter had found somewhere where you could help pick them to be shipped and you spent an hour amongst the flowers harvesting them.

It had been a truly magically trip….until now. The plane had been delayed for nearly 3 hours now. It was late and you were tired. You were splayed out across three chairs, your head in Peter’s lap as you tried to shut out the chatter of the rest of the airport. It had been a busy few days (and nights 😉) and you were exhausted.

“Uhhhhh can we just go home yet.” You groaned like a child.

Peter just chuckled at your pouty face as he continued to run his fingers through your hair and soothe you.

“It’s a shame you can’t just swing us home.” You whine and continue to pout.

“Ahhh yes, that would be easier baby, but I’m afraid I can’t swing us home from Amsterdam.”

“AMSTERDAM!” You half heartedly shout for the umpteenth time this trip in the way you both had the whole trip, copying Hazel Grace’s mum.

He watches as your face falls. “Oh baby.” He coos leaning over and placing a kiss on your forehead. He then reaches down to his bag beside him on the floor and pulls out his hoodie, unzipping it and laying it out over you like a blanket. “Take a nap and I’ll wake you when we’re finally ready to board.”

Your roll slightly, your body turning towards the back of the seat, face nuzzling against his stomach. “Pete,” you say turning your head back up to look at him, “thank you for this trip.”

“Anything for my best girl.”

You nuzzle into him, breathing in the scent of him deeply, finding comfort in his presence and peace amongst that chaos. It would be another hour before you both finally got to board the plane.