#greta van fleet london

[knoxious-and-devoted]

post concert depression, anyone? (pt. 1)

(all my pics!)

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages. All in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into an envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now. All to be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural, “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic; finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.”

He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, the slight uneven curl of his upper lip and the barely there freckles that line the ample lower. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads, “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated. Animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch.

Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “it killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jake slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

taglist - @alwaysonthemend @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @edgingthedarkness @fleet-of-fiction @gretasfallingsky @gretasmokerising @gvf23 @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @livkiszka @sacredjake @sparrowofthedawnsworld @takenbythemadness @thewritingbeforesunrise @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list and know y’all have already made this so rewarding❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[texas-bbq-pringles]

AAAAAAAAAA IT'S TODAY OH GOD IT'S TODAY WHAT THE FUCK IT'S TODAYYYYY (a moodboard)

[allysonthepoet]

Et tu, Brute?

Did you ever once, think twice

When you danced around my mind? Was it worth every discordant nerve you struck?

I've got to hand it to you, I didn't think you had it in you

I thought you were no bite, all talk

Do you feel the bruises of your love now?

I do

I think wounds have the tendency to bleed more when you don't anticipate them.

[wilmanakejoracarrentalkl]

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[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

Love Songs and Shit (Extended Masterpost)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x YN

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Fluff, Smut (honestly it varies depending on the chapter)

Wordcount: if only I knew...

Plot: YN is a popular American singer-songwriter who, on a rainy evening in 2018, crossed path with the members of Greta Van Fleet. It didn't take long for the usually detached and fiercely independent girl to experience an unfamiliar itch. As she put pen to paper, it seemed a certain long-haired guitarist had her thinking about writing love songs and shit.

Concept: Each Album is a period of YN's journey, each track is a song she wrote after a specific chapter, so basically her discography is a chronological story of her life (with Jake, mostly). I'm currently not posting chapters in chronological order, but everything is organized in chronological order on this Masterpost.

Disclaimer: All the album covers are paintings by Norwegian painter Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen I edited. So, credit to that guy.

Also some chapters may involve triggering themes, I'll add the specific trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Stay safe, besties.

(PREQUEL)Debut Album: "Remain Nameless" => NOT YET STARTED

Old Money

Seven

Blue Velvet

Lost at Sea

Bel Air

South London Forever

This is what makes us girls

Dollhouse

All-American Bitch

Hope There’s Someone

Grace

idontwannabeyouanymore

Remain Nameless

Brutal

Rabbit Heart

National Anthem

2nd Album: "Sweet Nothings" => NOT YET STARTED

The Night We Met

Ride

Lover to Lover

Body Electric

Moves

Hiding

Hope is a Dangerous thing for me to have

Love Song

Sweet nothings

3rd Album: "Let the Light In" => NOT YET STARTED

Wildest dreams

All the girls you've loved before

Cornelia street

How Big, How blue, How beautiful

Dress

Love

Always Remember Us This Way

Let the Light In

Lover

4th Album: "How to Disappear" => NOT YET STARTED

The Next Best American Record

King

Brooklyn Baby

How to Disappear

Mariners Apartment Complex

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Watercolor Eyes

Sky Full of Song

One step forward, three steps back

Out of the woods

5th Album: "The Greatest" => NOT YET STARTED

Happiness is a Butterfly

Swan song

Too Good at Goodbyes

Favorite Crime

You're Losing Me

Without You

The Greatest

6th album: "Long & Lost" => IN PROGRESS

Hits Different (coming soon..)

Now that we don’t talk

Beautiful People with Beautiful Problems

Long & Lost (coming next)

Is it over Now? (coming soon..)

All This and Heaven Too

7th Album: "St Jude" => DONE

California

Secrets from a Girl

Style

The Way I loved You

St Jude

All You Had to do Was Stay

Honeymoon

Happier than ever

8th Album: "The End of Love" => ON HIATUS

The Bomb

Prayer Factory

River

All too well

Caught

Stargirl Interlude

Getaway car

Angels like you

Various Storms and Saints

Leave my Body

Cassandra

The End of Love

9th Album: "Dream Girl Evil" => NOT YET STARTED

Carmen

A&W

Hometown Glory

Dream Girl Evil

Swimming

Restraint

Sober

Sober II

Heaven Is Here

June

God knows I tried

Never Let Me Go

(SEQUEL) 10th Album: "Margaret" => NOT YET STARTED

Morning Elvis

Girls against God

Mama who bore me

Patricia

Did you know that there's a tunnel under ocean boulevard?

Kitsungi

Back in Town

I Drink Wine

Back to December

Margaret

[badbaddecisions]

GRETA VAN FLEET - STARCATCHER WORLD TOUR - WEMBLEY ARENA - LONDON - 14.11.2023

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Dreams in Ink

Danny Wagner x f!reader

Synopsis: Danny has booked in to get his third tattoo with a very sentimental reason behind it.

Warnings: mentions of needles, tattooing

A/N: This was a special request for one of my pookie’s birthdays!! HBD my gorge baby g, this one’s for youuuuu. 🎂🫶🏻

Today was the day.

Even though he’d done this twice before, the nerves still gnawed away at him. But what better way to commemorate playing at the Royal Albert Hall than getting a new tattoo? He and his brothers had dreamed about this moment since the inception of Greta Van Fleet, and now it was actually happening. So many years had been spent preparing for this very moment, they were all truly grateful for the opportunity and determined to make it a night to remember.

The band’s assistant had taken care of the booking, Danny explaining what he wanted and letting her do her thing. She’d found a cute little studio, not too far from their hotel. All he needed to do was show up, which alleviated some of the stress of the experience they were about to embark on. The entire band loved being in London, the city was so vibrant and the fans were just as passionate as back home in the States.

Following his usual morning routine, he stepped out of the shower and took great care when it came to his bouncy curls. He’d learnt along the way to use a cotton t-shirt to dry them, plopping them on top of his head as he got ready for the day. He then raked his hands through the curls and applied a gel to set them, scrunching up through the ends to the base. Once he was happy with the form of his ringlets, he grabbed his room key and headed out. Usually, his brothers would tag along to the studio, but today they were all feeling the effects of the pub that they situated the evening before, so a member of the security team was his only company. They arrived at the studio five minutes early, Danny’s palms beginning to sweat with anticipation. A bubbly, bright eyed girl with long, blonde hair approached him as he walked in through the door.

“Hi there, do you have an appointment?” She smiled, showcasing her pearly white teeth.

“Hi, yes. Daniel Wagner, my appointment is at 10.”

“Fantastic, if you could just fill out this form for me and I’ll let Y/N know you’re here. She’ll be over to show you the design in a minute.”

Danny filled the form out and gave it back to the girl, then took a seat in the waiting area.

A few moments later, the tattoo artist made her way through the thick, forest green velvet curtains that separated the reception from the main studio. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on, with her silky, mahogany hair and cherry red lips.

“Daniel, right?” She asked, squatting down in front of him with her iPad in hand.

“Uh, yeah. But you can call me Danny, if you like. Most people do.” He wanted to smack the heel of his hand into his skull, why was he getting so flustered?

“Ok, well hi Danny. I’m Y/N. I’ve got the design here, if you wanna have a look and let me know if it’s what you had in mind.” She flipped the screen around in her hands and held it out to him.

He’d chosen the outline of the Royal Albert Hall. It seemed fitting, given the importance that playing there held in his heart. He peered down at the screen, noting that the design was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“That’s perfect!”

“And we’re going on your wrist?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Fab! Ok then, I’ll get the stencil sorted and then we can get started.”

With that, she stood up and walked back through the curtain, the smell of her perfume wafting through the breeze as she moved past him. It was such an alluring fragrance, subtly sexy but warm. It reminded Danny of a summer night back in Nashville, sat around a campfire with a glass of whiskey in hand. It smelt like home. In fact, he’d been so fixated from it since the moment she’d left that he hadn’t even noticed his name being called.

“Danny? You ready? Not having second thoughts now, are we?” She chuckled. Oh god, her laugh was so musical, the sweetest melody.

“Yeah, sorry... Lost in thought.”

“Come on back, let’s get you stencilled up.”

He entered through the curtains with her, walking out into a relatively small, but homely studio space. There was another artist at work in their own booth, a partition dividing the two spaces for client privacy.

“Ok, so I’ve printed out three sizes, so if you take them over to that mirror and try them on for size. Once you’ve picked the size you like, I’ll pop it on for you.”

Danny approached the mirror and held the three sizes up to his arm, deciding on the smallest of the three. The artist then shaved his arm and applied the stencil solution, then pressed the stencil down onto his wrist. She carefully peeled it off, urging him to go and take one more look before she began. Happy with the size and placement, Danny laid down on the couch and extended his arm out to lay on the rest. She slipped into her latex gloves, then took a seat on her stool.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, a little nervous though. This is my third tattoo, but it’s still pretty daunting.” He let out a nervous laugh, which brought a smile to her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” She winks.

She dips her machine into the small pot of ink, then stretches the skin of his wrist between her finger and thumb. She leans in, her breath tickling along his skin, causing his breath to hitch right at the moment the needle makes contact. She pulls back, her eyes clapping onto Danny’s.

“Are you ok? Was that too much?”

“No, no. Sorry, carry on. I’m all good.”

She rubs her hand across his arm, trying her best to soothe his nerves. He can tell that she genuinely cares about her clients, which is incredibly endearing.

“As long as you’re sure. I can help take your mind off it if you want? Tell me why you chose the design.”

She goes back to her position and begins to etch the line work into his skin, giving him occasional reassuring glances and listening intently as he explains the meaning behind the tattoo.

“Well, me and my brothers are playing at the Royal Albert Hall tomorrow night. It’s been a huge dream of ours for the longest time, so it’s extremely sentimental.”

“Wow, you’re playing there? You must be pretty big, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.” He chuckles.

“Tell me about your band. It’s so cool that you’re getting to live your dream.” She grins.

“Well, I’ve known the guys for what seems like my whole life. They are blood brothers, but really we’re all brothers. They are my best friends, such an amazing bunch of guys. Sam was my best friend growing up, we were practically attached at the hip. Still are. Josh and Jake are twins, a few years older than Sam and I. Jake’s dream was always to start a band, so the rest of us just kinda went with it. Music has been such a big part of our lives, we’re so influenced by it. It great that we now get to influence people too.”

“Danny, that’s amazing! It sounds like you guys are really close, getting to do what you love with them must be so fulfilling.”

“Yeah, it really is. I get to travel the world with them, explore countries we’d have never got to see if it wasn’t for the band. We’ve actually just finished up the Europe leg of our world tour. Next stop is North America again, then we go onto Japan, Australia, and New Zealand.”

“Damn! Ok I’m gunna need to know the name of your band, sounds like I have some listening to do.”

“It’s Greta Van Fleet, but please don’t feel obliged!”

“If you’re good enough to tour the world, I’m sure you’re good enough for me.”

She finishes up the rest of the tattoo, wiping down his wrist with cooling green soap which is gratefully received.

“So, what do you think?”

“I love it, thank you so much. And thanks for chatting with me, it really did take my mind off it.”

“Anytime.” She gives him a sweet smile. “Here’s a sheet with some aftercare information on it. It was lovely meeting you, Danny. I hope the show goes well tomorrow.”

“Likewise, you made me feel so comfortable today. It really was a pleasure, Y/N.”

She blushes slightly, then composes herself, running her hands through her hair.

Fuck it. Here goes nothing…

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, in fact please don’t feel like you have to say yes. But I had a lot of fun chatting with you, and I’m free this evening. If you don’t have plans, would you want to come out for a drink with me?”

She mulls it over for a minute, the cogs turning in her head.

“Yeah… sure. I don’t usually accept offers from clients, but something’s telling me you’re different. Here’s my business card, shoot me a text.”

Danny holds the card in his hand, looking down at it. He smiles, then looks back up.

“Great. I will. I’ll see you later? Thanks again for today.”

“Yeah, see you later, Danny.”

[samcatcher]

When in London.

Chapter 5. masterpost

This night was a night that I would always remember. It was an experience that I took with me everywhere. Sometimes when I’d see all of the boys together, I couldn’t help but think about this night. It was the night I (almost) heard a full greta van fleet set for the first time.

Sam and I spent the day together watching TV and talking. Just talking. It was so relieving to speak my native language so regularly again. I shared with him almost everything that’s going on and happened in my life. He seemed to remember every part. Him on the other hand, he remained kind of a closed book. Only really opening up to me if I asked a question. It did make me feel like I was talking about myself too much but every time I looked over at him he looked so content to be listening to me.

At around four, Sam left the house to go and set up with the boys, exactly like he did yesterday. He looked sad to be leaving me and he gave me a lingering hug as he left. I watched him wait for his cab with his bass in his hand, I watched him get in, I watched him drive away. After the remnants of Sam were gone, I started to get myself ready.

The moving van with all of my furniture still hadn’t come, it wasn’t coming until the weekend. Luckily, Amelia is an avid going out party girl, so I raided her closet for any sort of club dresses or outfits. Anything that wasn’t shirts or leggings. Amelia’s closet wasn’t my style, I missed my heaps of going out clothes and dresses and jewelry but it was fine for the time being.

I tried on this tight black dress which ended at mid thigh. It had white lace trim around the bottom and white straps. It looked like lingerie and to be honest I’m not fully convinced it wasn’t. I didn’t mind though. I’m not sure how Jean would have felt about it.

I felt confident after trying on the dress. Looking at myself in the mirror I felt the excitement for the rest of the night bubble up. So I quickly took off the dress, placed it on my bed and went and ran the shower.

I had a full packed shower. I washed my hair, I shaved my entire body, exfoliated my skin as well as everywhere else and I lotioned everywhere after. I brushed my teeth twice and as I was plucking my eyebrows the fourth time I looked at the clock, I had an hour for everything else.

I quickly cleaned up all of my stuff in the bathroom and moved to my room to start on my hair and makeup, which had to be simple now I wasted all of my time in the bathroom. 

After blow drying my hair and giving myself subtle sexy smokey eyes, I gave myself one last look in Amelia’s full length mirror in her bedroom. She was in there getting ready too, it seemed like she was going to make us a little late.

“Who are you looking good for?” She teased me as I checked my ass in the mirror.

“Just me.” I replied in the same tone and laughed at her suspicious expression.

I sat on Amelias bed and put on my white ankle socks and my black docs. Then I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Nothing, good.

At around 6:30, Amelia and I began to make our way to the venue. The show started at 7 so we had half an hour to get a cab and go. Luckily we managed to find one almost straight away and we reached the venue at 7:05. The warm air felt like summer in France. Though London’s air felt more like home to me.

We got into the venue, which was this small pub-like place. There was a stage and a bar, that was about it. There were chairs and tables around the stage and you could see all four band members joking around and wasting time setting up on stage, while the owner stared them down angrily.

One of the twins was shouting about something and making only himself laugh. The other twin was vigorously trying to wipe something off of his fretboard. Sam was sitting alone on the edge of the stage. He was tuning his bass by ear. He looked so absorbed in the sound. His jaw jolted forwards and his lips pursed as he focused. Danny was the only one that noticed we’d arrived, he was approaching.

“So ladies, are you excited to hear Michigan’s best rock band?” He said smugly and nudged my shoulder.

I furrowed my brows.

“Sure am.” I said trying to hide my hopelessness for this band.

He laughed and turned around, then mouthed something to Sam, who looked at me and frowned mockingly. Something I don't think he expected was one of the twins catching a glimpse of what Danny had just mouthed.

“So, you’re not convinced?” A small curly headed elfish man was approaching. A cartoon smile which shocked me as he grew closer. Josh Kiszka.

He animatedly crossed his arms and I looked around nervously.

“It’s okay, I get it.” He pretended to tear up and then broke his act and immediately started chortling. 

“Fine. I am so super excited.” I said in a reassuring tone however I don’t think they were convinced.

Amelia next to me nudged me, because she had found us a table close to the front, Sam's side. We sat down and waited anxiously.

“They’re really good, you’ll be surprised.” Amelia whispered to me as we continued waiting. It was now 7:20.

Sam glimpsed at me and smiled, then turned around to watch his brothers cue him in. Josh started nodding his head and tapping his foot to Danny’s opening drum beat. 

All four boys joined in at once, and I paid attention to each of them, studying their movements and mannerisms as they focused on the beat and chords they created. 

Danny jolted his head and flipped his hair, moving his arms with so much power and speed, and pattern, every now and then he would gasp for air, yet he was always smiling. You could tell he loved what he did and wanted to do it for life. 

Jake kept his speed and focus on his fretboard, moving his fingers with gracefulness. He made it look so easy. Every now and then he would move his head up to look at his brothers, then he would move his focus back down to his gibson. Which was, and still is, beautiful. 

Josh would open his mouth wide and smiley, you could see his tongue vibrating in his mouth. He would close his eyes when he hit a vital part in the song, and move his arms up and down in time with his tapping foot. Between verses he would close his eyes and jolt his head. Warming up for the next spiral of notes he would hold. 

And finally… Sam. I wish I got a chance to look at him, but since the show had started my phone hadn’t stopped ringing. I ignored it for 3 minutes as I took in the first 3 boys, although when the first song ended I started to get worried, so I decided to sneak off to the ladies room to check my phone. 

It was obviously Jean. Constant text messages and phone calls asking where I am. Although I sighed, something in me sensed there was some sort of emergency, so I shot him a quick text.

Lyla: Is there something wrong?

I didn’t realize I had sent the text in English until he replied in French. Cursing me, saying I was being inconsiderate and that there was no point of us speaking at all if we weren’t speaking french, I apologized to him saying that I was just used to speaking English at the moment, and I got left on read.

Rolling my eyes I stepped out of the bathroom after standing in there for 20 minutes trying to get something out of my angry boyfriend. trying to hide my now spoiled mood, when I sat down I rubbed my face with my hands, and although Sam was in the middle offsetting up his keyboard, he still noticed my mood, and a worried look casted upon his face.

I was able to get a good look at him playing now, and once I started to stare I couldn’t look away.

With one section of hair tucked behind his ear, the other section remained down, framing his face. I could see the side of him as the piano was facing west, and I could see his bare feet striking the pedals and keeping in time with the song. His jaw was rotating, and his lips pursing. He would put his all into the piano, jolting his body forwards with each note he played, and he would close his eyes until he released the keys, opening them to find the other one to strike. He looked so serious and focused, yet penetrated by the music, he followed his brothers with his eyes, then subtly looked back down at the keys, he didn’t have one eye on the audience though, which was what I didn’t expect, his other brothers seem to be fueled and drawn by the audience, however Sam just focused on the music he created, and I also just assumed he had stage fright and couldn’t bare to look into the crowd of English Pub Goers. 

I was mesmerized, I couldn’t take my eyes off. Until I was snapped out of my trance by Amelia, who must have caught me drooling. She winked at me, took a sip of her drink and looked back onto the stage, her focus was on her brother, who had just done a big goofy smile her way, as it was Sam’s solo at the end of their song flower power, and he had a break to take a drink and interact with the crowd.

My gaze never left Sam, he was 60 seconds into his 90 second solo, and beads of sweat were rolling down his chest.

It looked like the rest of the room had lost interest, and I was happy. For some reason I felt slightly jealous that other people were seeing such intensity from him. And although friends filled the room, I felt like he was playing to me, for me, as stupid as it sounds. When his solo was finally finished he looked up, but not to the crowd. Then he simply walked off stage, as the show had finished. I was shocked, it went so quick. The boy only played 4 songs, as unfortunately the pub had to close unexpectedly due to some sort of infestation, I didn't want to know much more about it.

The manager let us stay behind to help them pack up their things, and once Sam had finished putting his stuff away (he finished first because the others kept getting distracted.) He came over to me and Amelia with a shy smile.

“How was I?” He asked us.

“I loved the solo right at the end.” I said to him, my eyes wide, slightly starstruck.

“That was actually written for Jake’s guitar but we changed it to my keys because Josh wanted me to get some spotlight at the end.” Sam laughed.

“I still think it sounds better when I play it.” Jake said as he walked past holding his guitar, being extra careful not to bump it on any chairs and tables as we went by.

Sam rolled his eyes then stared at the floor, I think he secretly agreed with Jake. 

A few seconds of silence went past which was interrupted by the ringing of my phone again. I scoffed and went straight outside, forgetting to excuse myself from Sam and Amelia, inflicting worry on the two.

The summer air was freezing tonight, and I shivered as I turned the corner of the pub, away from Sam’s brother’s and into an alleyway to answer my phone. 

Me and Jean had probably the largest argument we have ever had that night. I found myself screaming down the phone in French. I felt like I should have been holding a cigarette and wearing a fur coat. The funny part is I can’t even remember what the argument was about. I just know how devastated it left me. And after 15 minutes of screaming and crying down the phone, he hung up. Leaving me sobbing in an alleyway of an unknown pub.

I looked up to see Sam slowly inching towards me, holding my jacket I had left on the back of my chair.

“You left this.” He simply stated. However I could see everything he was thinking behind his eyes.

I sniffled and nodded, embarrassed that Sam had seen me cry so early into our friendship. He didn’t show any judgment, nor did he ask any questions, he just pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket and offered me one. I politely declined.

“French girl don't smoke?” He rhetorically asked, slightly shocked.

“I used to. Way too much.” I replied and laughed back more tears.

Sam stepped closer and wiped my eyes for me, then pulled me in for a tight hug.

“My brothers went back to their hotel, Danny and Amelia are waiting for you, they don’t know you’re upset though, if they did they would have rushed over I’m sure-” He said, looking back.

“Thank you Sammy. I don’t know why but I’m glad it was just you that found me.” I gave him a lighthearted smile.

We walked out of the alley and were met with Amelia and Danny, who were looking at something on Amelia’s phone. I assumed it was a recording Amelia had taken of the band.

“Shall we go?” Amelia said as she looked around at all of us, I smiled and nodded, and she smiled back. We all started walking back to the house. The group engaged in conversations about the show that night, but I just stayed quiet, blaming it on something to do with tiredness.

When we got to the house I said a brief goodnight and went straight up to my room, I took off my clothes and exchanged them for comfortable pajamas. I didn’t even bother taking my makeup off, I was mentally drained mostly from Jean and I had only been here a few days. I passed it off as a rough patch while we adjusted. But it was more of a scolding, burning patch. Which left me depressed and unexcited about his visit soon.

The next morning I had no reason nor intention of getting out of my bed. Jean wasn’t coming until Saturday and the moving van had been delayed once again. So I layed there drifting off and waking up all day. I didn’t have an appetite nor energy to move. Everyone just assumed that I was having a lay in. 

At around 12:45 Amelia knocked on my door asking me if I wanted something to eat, because she had noticed I hadn’t left my room all day. I politely declined and told her I wasn’t too hungry. She nodded and left. Although we have been friends for life, we’ve never been good at comforting each other. I liked being left alone and she liked being held.

Another few hours went by and another few tears. Crying about a man was something I barely let myself do but Jean had really hurt me this time. I rolled over onto my stomach and put my head in the pillow, I decided to just cry it all out. 

20 seconds of silent sobbing later I removed my head from my pillow and grabbed a box of tissues from the suitcase on the floor next to my bed. I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. As I was doing so there was another knock on my door. I didn’t say come in, but it opened a few seconds later anyway. 

Sam came in smiling with a cup of coffee in his hands. Although his smile dropped once he saw the state I was in. 

“What’s wrong Lyla? Everyone thinks you’re hungover.” He said, concerningly. 

“I would rather them think that.” I said and choked back a few more tears. 

Sam tilted his head to the side and then left the room not saying a word. I was a little bit disappointed. I really wanted him near me for some reason. 

Although my disappointment turned into wonder once he came back holding a beautiful acoustic guitar, with flowers painted up the fretboard. It looked new and never used. Which is something that’s rare with the aesthetic of Greta Van fleet. Something told me it was his personal one. 

“One rule that I’ve had since I was sixteen is take an acoustic wherever you go. You never know when you might need it.” He said proudly. Then he asked, 

“Can I play something for you?”

I smiled, imagining him lugging guitar everywhere, even if he didn’t use it at all. I nodded my head and moved my legs so that he could sit at the end of my bed. With the guitar in his hands and his hair up in a messy bun he smiled at me, then he handed me his cup of coffee to hold. I took a secret sip. 

A few seconds went by of him staring at the floor, probably trying to channel the chords to what he was going to play. 

I laid my head back down on my bed but angled my head so that I could still see him. He tilted his head to meet my eyes and smiled, then looked back at the guitar and started to play. 

He was playing the song I was mesmerized by the previous night, flower power. He told me that his solo at the end was originally written for acoustic, so I’m guessing that is what he was warming up to show me. I’m assuming he played the whole song to show off a bit. 

Unfortunately I never got to hear the solo, because about a minute and a half into the song I started drifting to sleep. The playing was slow and relaxing. Like a lullaby version. I couldn’t help my eyes from closing and my breathing deepening. 

Just as I was about to fall asleep, Sam's playing stopped. There were a few seconds of silence, as he was probably trying to check I was sleeping. Then I felt a hand caress my face and hold my chin with a thumb. I felt a hand move a piece of hair away from my face and stroke down my arm. Lingering there for a moment. I fake stirred to try not to smile. And he let go of me. He moved to the blanket further up my arms and stayed staring at me. 

after a few moments of feeling his stare on my ”sleeping” body. He got up off my bed and left the room quietly. That’s when I finally let myself fall asleep. For the first time without crying that day. 

chapter 6

[wildbluesorbit]

London Series || JTK

18+mdni

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Word Count || 60k

A/N: Will they? Won’t they? Prepare for whiplash:) Give a listen to the song that inspired the story. All the love in the world to @tommie-gvf for editing this piece and putting up with all my weird questions. I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and this is my first fic. I am very open to criticism so pretty please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think! That said, I have no words to express just how much all the love and attention y’all have already given London means to me xxx

MASTERLIST

London

London II: Refined • London II: Uncensored

Wounded: A Continuation of London

Wounded II

Wounded IIS

Wounded III

EXTRAS

London: Holiday Prelude

ps. this story has the best sequential flow when you read the Holiday Prelude after IIS & before III !!!

taglist❤️‍🩹 - @ageofbajabule @alwaysonthemend @anythingforjtk @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @dannys-dream @do-it-jakey-baby @dont-go-home-without-me @edgingthedarkness @fomopheobe @gretasfallingsky @gretavanglimmers @gvf23 @gvfmarge @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @jakeysbuttsheeks @jordie-gvf-admin @lipstickitty @livkiszka @lyndz2names @mindastreamofcolours @mountain-in-springtime @mrbrownstne @nina-23-45 @sacredjake @smoking-jakelane @sparrowofthedawnsworld @styles-canvas @takenbythemadness @dancingcarbon @thewritingbeforesunrise @tommie-gvf @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @violet-hayes @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

pretty please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist🫶🏼

[kurumeki]

Greta Van Fleet / The Grand Organ & Age of Machine at Royal Albert Hall, London UK

[berlinini]

“Do it out of spite” is really good advice… I couldn’t stand the idea watching the game in London while rooting for England’s demise and I found out Greta Van Fleet was playing so bought a last minute ticket and went in the pit by myself and it was one of the most incredible show ever. Like fucking mind blowing. Aaaaand England lost!

[snevvings]

This is a whole post because my coworker is the loveliest lady, and she’s booked a relatively expensive hotel in London and bought tickets to Greta Van Fleet all for her husband’s birthday and because of the football, he doesn’t want to go because he just wants to watch the footy so now they’re not going…🙃…

What the actual fuck?

Ungrateful.

[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

River

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt, ex!Jake

Synopsis: Jake hasn’t healed even months after his ex-girlfriend Y/N said ‘I do’ to another man. After one night of desperately trying to hold onto Y/N, will he get back the woman he loves, or was it all nothing but a mistake?

For a bit of context while I try and write what came before: Y/N is a super successful singer-songwriter although it’s not super relevant in this chapter. She has been close friends with the members of Greta Van Fleet, for several years. She had a tumultuous yet terribly passionate relationship with Jake that ended not very well (you’ll see), although they eventually figured out how to remain on good terms for everybody’s sake.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.

Previous Track: Prayer Factory

Chapter soundtrack : River – Joni Mitchell

Oh, I wish I had a river,

I could skate away on.

I wish I had a river so long,

I would teach my feet to fly.

Christmas music was playing softly in the warmth of the Styles household. The young couple had decided to host a Holiday party together for their close friends in their newly purchased London home. Kids were running around everywhere, stuffing their face with appetizers, while grown-ups were enjoying more than a few glasses of wine around the crackling fireplace, or in the sitting room.

Alright let’s get into this,

--

Harry, however, was busy looking around for his wife with a frown on his face. He had barely seen her since the arrival of the first few guests.

“Hey, do you know where my beautiful wife might be?” he asked his sister.

Indeed, the hostess was still in the master bathroom upstairs. Far from the picture of holiday spirit, she was sitting on the tiled floor, with her arms wrapped around her knees, surrounded by a pile of tissues and mascara running wildly down her cheeks.

“I’m not sure, although she did tell me she was going to the loo earlier.”

--

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” she whispered, for what felt like the hundredth time, as she heard footsteps heading in her direction. She took some more toilet paper to blow her nose, jumping slightly as she heard a soft knock on the door.

“Y/N? Come out, love, everyone’s here,” she heard her husband say.

She got up, flinching as she looked at her reflection. God, she really looked like shit, “Um, you should go back down, I'll be right behind you, I’m just touching up my makeup”, she said, hoping Harry wouldn’t be able to notice the shakiness of her voice.

“Are you okay?” he asked, clearly worried.

“Of course, I am” she answered. She was relieved to hear him walk back downstairs.

“Ah, there she is!” everyone cheered upon seeing her walk down the split staircase, her silky dress flowing beautifully behind her and her makeup opaque enough to hide any previous meltdown.

Of course, I am, she thought. Was she really, though? Definitely not. She quickly put all her mess into the tiny bin, before starting to work on her hair and face. Just get through tonight, she thought, just tonight.

--

“Sorry I kept you waiting. You know I love making an entrance,” she giggled, trying to hide her nervousness behind a sparkly smile. No one seemed to notice anything wrong as she went around the room, greeting everyone one by one, cracking a quick joke here and there.

Most of the guests were Harry’s friends and colleagues, but Y/N didn’t mind that much, she understood London wasn’t exactly an ideal location for most of her friends. Plus, she had gotten rather close to her husband’s inner circle. It didn’t quite feel like family just yet, but it would come, or at least that’s what she hoped.

“You look a bit pale sweetheart,” Harry’s agent told her laughing, “here, have a drink it’ll loosen you right up”.

Y/N hesitantly took the champagne flute he was holding out to her, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’ and excusing herself before heading to the empty reading room. She let out a sigh of relief as she heard the door close behind her, shutting any noise out.

She loved that room; it was always so quiet and cozy. The walls were covered in her favorite books, and the grand piano was almost buried under a mountain of sheet music and song drafts, both hers and Harry’s. The back wall, however, was very neatly organized. It was where they had decided to place their award shelves.

Without even realizing, she approached one award in particular. It was her second Grammy, which she’d gotten a few years prior. Next to it was a picture taken at the ceremony’s after party. She grabbed it gently, a sad smile spreading her face. It was of her with Josh, Danny and Jake. Sam had taken it while in his disposable camera phase.

She brushed her thumb across Jake’s face, her throat drying up, before shifting her attention back on the glass in her hand. She contemplated the idea of downing it in one swift movement. God knew she needed a drink. But she wasn’t sure it would be wise.

Screw it.

She weakly brought the glass up to her lips but was interrupted as she heard the door open and footsteps approaching from behind her.

“You look beautiful,” Harry whispered in her ear. He laid a soft kiss on her exposed shoulder and wrapped one arm around her waist, his hand landing on her stomach. She stiffened at the sensation. “Are you okay?” he asked, genuine worry on his delicate features.

“Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” she answered, smiling, delicately setting the frame back onto the shelf.

But her husband wasn’t fooled, he could feel that something was going on. Truth was, something had been going on for a while. Y/N had been distant, and quiet, very different from the sunny and bubbly girl he’d married less than a year prior. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her to open up to him. He was worried his job had started taking a toll on their marriage, since YN’s strange behavior had started when he’d come back from a press tour to promote his new album. Then again, Harry knew she had herself been working on some projects and even spent a couple days with her friends in Barcelona while he was away, so she’d always kept busy.

“Are you sure?” he insisted.

“Just tired,” she hummed, absent-mindedly, “who would’ve thought hosting Christmas would be so stressful?”

But Harry wasn’t satisfied with his wife’s answer “Love, you look-”

She gently slid out of his arms and walked towards the arched window; it was pouring outside. “I told you I’m fin-”, but they were both cut off by a strong voice coming from the foyer.

“Alright everyone, picture time!”

The reading room was suddenly silent for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to argue, neither of them knowing what to do or say. Y/N was the first to move, setting her glass down on the windowsill and walking past him and towards the exit.

“Y/N-” he sighed, his eyes never leaving her figure.

“You heard them,” she answered, smiling sadly back at him, “it’s picture time.” She quickly vanished behind the mahogany doors.

Harry was left alone in the study, with nothing to listen to but his own thoughts. He couldn’t understand what had been going on. Out of curiosity, he glanced at what Y/N was holding when he’d walked in. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he took in the picture frame.

Of course, he thought. She’d told him all about how she’d been spending the Holiday season in Michigan for the past few years. It must’ve felt weird celebrating Christmas without her boys for the first time in so long. Harry felt a lump settle in his throat. He’d taken her away from her family. Of course, he’d hoped he would’ve had become her family by then, but he knew Y/N and the Greta boys had a special bond that was hard for outsiders to understand. They were the family she’d chosen. And she was the only person that they had ever truly let in.

Harry walked quickly to the foyer, finding everyone standing around the staircase, facing the photographer. He walked to the middle of the crowd and next to Y/N, who still looked as absent as ever. But this time he chose to lay a soft kiss on her temple. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I love you darlin’,” he said softly against her hair.

Without thinking, Harry took his phone out of his pocket and dialed his assistant’s number, “Hey, yeah, I know, I’m sorry, I just need you to do something very quickly for me.”

--

Except it most definitely was not okay, he did not have to be sorry, and should not have loved her. Y/N felt tears filling her eyes as the guilt once again ate at her. She discreetly wiped a stray tear. There wasn’t anything she could do now, was there?

“Everybody, say cheese!”

She turned around to face the photographer, Harry’s hand wrapping around her waist, a wide smile spreading across both of their faces.

To say Y/N was exhausted would’ve been an understatement. The party had ended being a lot of fun for everybody, perhaps a tad too much fun, as the last guest had left in a cab long after 3AM.

“Cheeeeese!” everybody cheered.

--

She yawned as she took off her jewelry and heels, before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Y/N heard her husband’s soft snores coming from the bedroom and couldn’t help but smile a little as she remembered his sister had spent the night warning him against the spiked eggnog. He clearly had taken her advice lightly and had ended up getting completely hammered.

She started taking her makeup off, lazily throwing her used wipes in the bin. She froze for a second. The girl wasn’t tired enough to have forgotten the reason why she’d been sobbing on the floor just 6 hours earlier.

She slowly shut the bathroom door, flinching when the lock clicked loudly. She got down on her knees and started rummaging through the trash, only to let out a painful sigh when she noticed her worst nightmare hadn’t disappeared. Yep. The tests were still in there. All three of them, mocking her with their baby blue lines.

Hope you liked it! Once again, don't hesitate to send me whatever or leave comments I’m always happy to get feedback xxx

Positive.

--

--

Masterlist

[vesperdae]

when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers !! <3

YIPPEE I LOVE ASKS LIKE THIS

this is p much what’s been on repeat lately:

today - the smashing pumpkins

psycho magnet - london after midnight

heat above - greta van fleet

the first taste - fiona apple

face down - return to dust

[sacredjake]

thank you @wildbluesorbit for the tag hehe :)

tag 9 people you want to catch up with and/or get to know better !!

last song:

Broken Bells by Greta Van Fleet

last movie:

10 Things I Hate About You

currently reading/last read:

The Sea Wolf by Jack London & Under The Black Flag by David Cordingly (currently reading both)

currently watching:

(rewatching) Grey’s Anatomy

current obsession:

umm… idk maybe these açai bowls from this place by my work. they’re so good 

no pressure tag: @joopsworld @ageofhearingloss @gold-mines-melting @dannyandthekiszkas @gretasmokerising @joshsindigostreak @safety-sam @obetrolncocktails