#penthouse amsterdam

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for finding this absolutely stunning penthouse in Amsterdam. It has 4bds, 2.1ba, €5.995M + €637mo. fee / $6.110M + S692mo. fee.

Beautiful entrance to the building.

The apt. has an elevator/lift that brings you directly to your entrance hall.

Love the brick wall.

The living room lighting gives it such a cozy, mellow, ambience.

Spacious dining areas get a lot of natural light and views.

What a kitchen.

Isn't this gorgeous?

Corner office or your own private library.

Would also make a great little conservatory.

Incredible fireplace and bar.

To the 2nd level.

Beautiful built-ins in the primary bedroom.

Luxurious bath.

How cute they did the nursery and it has a lovely bath.

Out on the deck. I wonder about the wisdom of putting the shower over a skylight, though. Hello!

Simply fabulous neighborhood.

[jesseinterieur]

Ontdek het luxueuze Penthouse Amsterdam ontworpen door Jesse Interieur. Dit voortreffelijke project beschikt over een prachtige keuken, die moderne elegantie combineert met functioneel design. Ontdek meer over hun unieke creaties en gedetailleerd vakmanschap op hun website.

[upstairsdownstairsandinbetween]

Nº1 Penthouse, Vondelstraat, Amsterdam, The Netherland,

zU Studio Architecture,

Photographs by Frans Parthesius

[ultimatepad]

Pontsteiger Penthouse, Amsterdam,

TANK Architecture

[oneforthemunny]

🧸🍯🎸 this is mine

for your blurb, rockstar!eddie, fluff, lore/flashback. set during the sneaking around phase, like a month before the engagement for timeline purposes.

"You're going back to the hotel room?" Jeff gawked, mouth nearly dropping at the words he was sure he was hallucinating.

"Yeah," Eddie flicked the lighter, bringing it to his usual post show joint. "Not really feelin' it."

"Not- Ed, we're in Amsterdam." Jeff scoffed.

"And?"

"You fuckin' love Amsterdam." Jeff blinked in awe, partial confusion.

"Yeah, I used to. Kinda boring now. Seen it, done it, need somethin' more exciting than hookers and weed." Eddie shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, his hands twitching with irritation, anxious to get into the car and back to the hotel.

"Lemme know if it's somethin' good, though. Maybe I'll stop by later." Ducking into the black car, Eddie nodded at the rest of his bandmates, shutting the door quickly.

His knee bounced the entire car ride, all seven minutes of it, ringed fingers tapping on the edge of his torn jeans. The car had barely slowed to a stop before Eddie was out, throwing a wad of Euros his tour manager had given him towards the driver, practically sprinting towards the private elevator entrance.

"Hey, uh, you don't happen to know what time it is in Los Angeles right now, do you?" Eddie turned towards the hotel manager accompanying him on the ride to the penthouse.

"No, sir, but I can get the front desk to call and-"

"-That's alright. Thank you." Eddie nodded, stepping towards the door before it opened, sliding through the opening gap.

"Looks great!" He turned, giving a half grin and a thumbs up, jamming the key into the lock.

"Uh, if you need anything, Mr. Munson-"

"-I won't even hesitate to let you know. I promise." Eddie cut off the nervous hotel manager, too familiar with the schtick- too many hotel rooms, all saying the same thing. Normally, he'd be less pushy and in a rush, on his best behavior with the staff because- "Fuck it, they're just doing their job. Why would I be an asshole about it?"

But tonight, he had bigger plans. He'd timed the closing number just right, no off topic rants or mid song chaos like usual- his tour manager should be thankful. No, he'd timed it all perfectly, striding over to the phone, dialing out for an international number.

The phone rang once, twice- Eddie's leg hadn't stopped bouncing until,

"I thought you said you'd call me at four." The familiar playful purr in your tone had his heart skipping, a nearly boyish grin spreading across his face. "It's almost five, here."

"I'm sorry, baby. Had to wrap a few things up at the venue. Didn't plan on it being late." Eddie cradled the phone to his ear, leaning back on the pristine bed. "What are you up to?"

"Hm, about to go out to dinner with a few friends." You sighed, nearly bored, like your heart wasn't fluttering the same way his was.

"Friends? Any I should be worried about?" Eddie's voice dropped, a low gravel in his tone that made heat rush through your veins.

"I think I should be asking you that, rockstar." You teased back. "You're the one in Amsterdam, and who called me late. Too busy with the hookers?"

"Psh, you caught me." Eddie snorted sarcastically. "Got one here with me right now if you wanna talk to her."

"You better not." Your tone clipped, teetering away from playful and towards possessive. "I'd hate to have to catch a flight down there."

"Well, in that case..." Eddie teased, rolling over on the bed, the phone chord stretching with him.

"Eddie,"

"'M just messin' with you. No hookers here. Just me." Eddie muttered, the silence of the room falling around him. "Wouldn't be mad if you did catch a flight, though. I've missed you, baby."

Your cheeks pricked with excited heat, swaying with the phone pressed to your ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I've missed you too." You whispered, like it was a secret. Maybe it was, to everyone else. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Smokin'." Eddie hummed, patting his bedside table, looking for the pre-rolled joints he'd requested. "Sleepin'."

"That doesn't sound like much fun." Eddie could practically hear your pout through the phone.

"Eh, it's not bad. A little lonely though." Eddie sighed. "Wish I had someone here with me to keep me company."

"You better be talking about me, Munson." You clipped.

Eddie grinned, a huff of laughter floating though the other end. "You know I'm talking about you. Everyone else is boring t'me now, baby. You ruined them, ruined me."

You bit back a giggle, lips curing in a grin. "Where's your next stop?"

"Uh, Berlin." Eddie muttered. "Leave tomorrow."

"Maybe... Maybe I'll stop in and see you." Your heart skipped when you suggested it. "Maybe we can go back to that cafe."

"You're too good to me." Eddie grinned, lazy and silly. "I'll pick you up at the airport."

"No, just send a car-"

"-I'll pick you up." Eddie insisted. "Don't worry, baby, I'll keep it hush-hush. Very low profile." He could practically hear your smile. "I don't wanna keep you from your friends tonight, so I'll get off the-"

"-You're not." You shook your head. "But I should probably go before Farrah kills me... and I need to call Jaques and let him know I'll need the plane tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see you." Eddie grinned into the receiver.

"You too." You squeaked, a giggly blush practically spilling through the phone. "I'll call you with the times."

"Alright, sweetheart. Have fun tonight. I'll see you soon." Eddie paused, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Love you, baby."

"I love you." You sighed sweetly. "Don't party too hard. I'll see you tomorrow."

[thenordroom]

This week on The Nordroom

Wooden Details in a Light Duplex Apartment in Sweden

Floor-to-Ceiling Bookcases in a 1950s Swedish Home

Charming Cottage Style in a London Maisonette

A Colorful Family Home with Open-Plan Spaces in Amsterdam

Contemporary Interiors in a Historic English House

A Stunning Bathroom in a Duplex Apartment in Stockholm

A Charming Gothic-Style Home with Original Details

An Industrial English Loft with Yellow Color Pops

A Bright Penthouse Apartment in Oslo

[newx-menfan]

NYX # 1 Review

*Spoilers!*

After weeks of waiting, spoilers, comic leaks , and “The Krakoan’s” identity being very brutally obvious…it’s FINALLY HERE guys! The CLOSEST we will probably EVER get the a NXM book!! JK!!😆

The issue starts with Kamala monologuing about her recent acceptance to an after school program in NY to Bruno, who is currently in Amsterdam. (I’ll fully forewarn everyone and be transparent that I only read Kamala when G Willow Wilson was writing the book 😬…so Kamala fans MAY need to help me out a bit, lol) 

Kamala literally runs into Sophie and they go to Prodigy’s lecture…(no offense to Prodigy…but Sofia’s a bit right…the lecture COULD use a little more finessing, lol…)

Sophie gives him shit and Kamala realizes she’s friends with the “cool kids” now, who pointedly go out of their way to embarrass and humiliate their teachers (not that Bruno or Miles isn’t cool, Kamala…)

It’s interesting that in some ways DAVID is going the academic, “through proper channels” route…but it also makes sense considering some of his characterization during NXM: AX…(and why a certain character is the PERFECT FOIL for him, in this storyline!…)

David- who, while calling out characters like Josh…was also a bit of a “rule follower” in a way that certain OTHER characters DEFINITELY weren’t…

Any, Sophie convinces Kamala to go clubbing with her and they run into Anole bartending. Anole gets accosted by some patrons screaming about a mutant “terrorist”. (Also…I really LOVE Sophie swearing all the time 😂🤣…I guess her polite way of sassing has changed after “Riot at Xavier’s” and being dead lol)

Kamala and Sophie get kicked out of the club while defending Anole (I guess they’re not having a “brat” summer….☹️). Kamala then dons her Ms Marvel suit and calls David…sorry… Professor Alleyne… to help unlock a phone (the interaction IS super adorable!) and we learn that the guys at the club are committing crimes and pinning it on mutants. (Or so it would SEEM! Foreshadowing!!)

While on the phone, Laura attacks and brakes Kamala’s phone, because Laura is kind of a dick, telling her she’s chasing “ghosts”. (This is why Laura doesn’t have consistent friends guys 😒🤣)

Laura’s characterization…isn’t great… (Laura you were LITERALLY ON a teen X-Men group…you LOST the right to call anyone “kids”!)

Kamala then tells Laura she needs to get a life (which is kind of TRUE…). 

FINALLY…after all the filler…we get to the STAR!…who people have been desperately WAITING FOR…

KRAKELLION! (Sorry @ thestomping-ground …but I’m stealing the name because “the Krakoan” sounds terrible lol)

In one of the COOLEST, MOST AWESOME panels ever (I am really NOT biased)…Krakellion ARISES…ready to enact revenge on the FLATSCANS!!

In HANDS DOWN, ONE OF THE BEST SCENERY CHEWING MONOLOGUES EVER WRITTEN (told you, I’m not biased!), Hellion more or less just calls into question Kamala’s movie to comic book mandated retcon… (Feel like he should have leaned more into the “Emma/Ms Marvel call out of 2006”…but I am not judging, Hellion…)

Kamala then saves the helpless flatscans on the subway- but is then forced to reckon with the fact that humans will ONLY support her because they don’t know she’s a mutant. The minute she’s outed- that hero worship will ultimately go away. ☹️

Kamala then meets up with Sophie and they talk and have coffee (Wait a minute… Kamala is an inhuman too? I thought that couldn’t happen and that’s why Quicksilver had such an identity crisis while married to Crystal??…I told you guys I’m kind of out of the loop on Schrödinger's newest mutant/inhuman…🐈‍⬛😬😂🤣); Kamala also having a mutant friend is adorable…

We transition to the Krakellion walking in some shadowy penthouse, giving Empath shit on the telecom (Brownoses shouldn’t throw stones, Empath! Also Hellion did LOTS of COOL stuff in NXM, OkAy Empath?!) and we see the new….Hellfire Club?…Hellions?…Council??…. Hopefully that gets cleared up in the next issue….

(Also…I bet you 100 bucks Empath FORCED Hellion to drop the name “Hellion” because he couldn’t stand being “Hellion and the Hellions” to Julian lol- Not Julian’s fault he picked the superior name! 😂🤣🤣)

(Also- can anyone tell me what the QR code is- it won’t scan on Kindle and I am waiting on my paper copies ☹️)

Review:

Obviously… I am biased; but this has been one of the few X-books I have been excited about in a while! 

I know people LOVED “Krakoa era” X-Men… but I am personally happy to see return to a more “Astonishing/Mutant Town/Morrison X-Men” type of story.

I am also happy to see a return to a more “Tom Taylor/Tamaki” street level Laura; as much as I whined about Taylor’s representation in the past… Laura really does work better when she’s more low key…

After years of sitting through “Wolverine and the X-Men” style books…it’s nice to see characters like Prodigy or Hellion being treated AS ADULTS and with narrative care.

The writing is fine; there are moments where I think it could be tighter, but I do think it definitely has its moments and will definitely get better as the writing team goes on and gets more used to the characters voices.

I KNOW people are going to complain that this seems more like a stealth Kamala solo…and while I DO think there’s some validity to that argument (it’s focus is DEFINITELY on Kamala and getting stubborn “Inhuman fans” like me to accept her as a mutant….); I am mostly fine with it, since that seems to be what it takes for fans to get a “New X-Men: Academy X” book.

The biggest complaint I have is unsurprisingly Laura- we’re still sadly in the “Talon-esque”/ “Laura written as Wolverine” representation. Hopefully this gets better the more they feature her…but I do fear this era

will be very disappointing for Laura fans (I haven’t heard much about the Gabby/Laura mini either!)….

Question/Theories:

More and more I am thinking Laura and Julian are in cahoots- possibly Laura didn’t want Kamala involved because of her emotional connection with Julian…. It may just be that she wants to try and reform him; to give him the same chance he gave her…but I think more than likely she’s using Julian to spy on Empath. (Also because I can’t envision Manuel and Julian standing each other for more than five minutes lol)

Is Tag helping Hellion? I feel like Tag SHOULD be helping him, since they’re bros and Tag literally got blown up in a school bus… (Also his powers are cool…)

The BIGGEST question is- Is Hellion blasting “brat” through AirPods under that helmet? Is he having a “brat summer”? Is “Mean Girls” his favorite song? …(someone needs to make a “Hellion/brat YouTube fan vid” like they used to in the 2000’s 😂🤣… @romulanslutempire …?)

[magicshopaholic]

Aphrodite (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You and Namjoon consider all the reasons you shouldn’t be together.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Fluff, some angst, some smut

Word count: 7.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, fingering, allusions to sex

A/N: Wrote this in a word coma. Set over a period of three months, beginning a week after Voice of an Angel. Can be read standalone.

Special thanks to this anon who casually dropped this idea in my inbox and bounced, leaving me to be plagued with heart-stoppingly beautiful scenarios that I wrote on my phone in a full-day seminar because I was incapable of thinking about anything else. Well played, anon.

(The song rec is also one I've been waiting to use and one of Daniel Ricciardo's biggest contributions to my life; apropos in these turbulent times)

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: “wake up with you” by emerson leif

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

The first reason is brought up on the last night.

Seoul shouldn’t be this empty this time of night, thinks Namjoon. But they’re near the suburbs now, the apartment building mostly with families, so maybe it’s always like this? Either way, he should count himself lucky, for if Kaya’s last night here was punctuated with camera phones being secretly pointed at him and his manager hissing at him to be careful, he might have thrown something.

As it is, it’s peaceful. Their fingers linger next to each other as they walk back to her aunt’s house; Namjoon doesn’t know if she expects him to take her hand. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but after what they’ve just done at his penthouse, is this really where the line needs to be drawn?

“Good call to walk.” Kaya turns to him slightly and raises her eyebrows. “Instead of taking a car.”

“The weather’s too nice for it,” he lies, noting how his shirt is already sticking to his shoulders slightly and how she’s swept her long hair off her neck and tied it up, despite the light sundress she’s wearing.

It’s embarrassing to think that the reason he’d proposed to walk was so he’d have a little more time with her before she left forever. He feels ridiculous for even thinking this way - when did he become so dramatic?

“It is,” she agrees. “It's nicer than Amsterdam.”

Namjoon’s stomach settles slightly. At least he’s not the only one lying through his teeth.

“Do you need to pack tonight?” he asks hopefully, wondering if they can take another detour before he drops her back.

“A little,” she admits, “but mostly I just need to close out some stuff for work that’s due the day after tomorrow.” 

Namjoon frowns. “Because… you’re preparing for jet lag?”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a really long flight,” she adds, groaning softly in anticipation. 

The sound makes his stomach flip and he tries not to think about the same sounds an hour ago, in his bed, against his skin.

“Tell me about it.” It occurs to Namjoon that unlike him, she won’t be flying business class. “Can’t blame you for not visiting more often. Jieun, I mean,” he adds quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Kaya gives him a small, knowing smile as they reach the building. “It’s also really expensive,” she says, turning around to face him.

“It is.” He swallows and puts his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been dreading this moment; nothing he wants to say would be appropriate for saying goodbye to a week-long summer fling.

She touches his elbow, holding the newspaper-wrapped package in the same hand. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a book, she’d joked when he’d given it to her and asked her not to open it until he left.

“Namjoon.” Her voice is soft, the foreign accent making his name sound so special. “It’s probably a good thing I can’t visit that often.”

He presses his tongue into his chin and nods, hating that she’s right. It’s too far and it’s too expensive, so maybe a week-long summer fling was already the bonus that fate had given them. It takes him a moment but he takes a deep breath and looks up at her, thinking once again that she has such Disney princess eyes. 

He silently steps forward to hug her for the last time.

—

The second reason is brought up nearly a month later, in the middle of the night in Amsterdam. 

Kaya groans at the sound of her alarm, feeling distinctly as though she just fell asleep. She reaches for her phone and frowns when she sees the time: she did just fall asleep. It’s also not her alarm, but her phone ringing.

The call is from Namjoon, though; it makes her slightly less annoyed at being woken up. She clears her throat and answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” He sounds hurried, as though he’s on his way somewhere. “I’m so glad you answered.”

“Okay?” Kaya can hear her voice sound thick with sleep. “Uh… why?”

“Because of last night. Because - wait, were you asleep?”

“Was,” she can’t resist saying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold onto some remaining sleep. Tomorrow’s schedule is chock-full of classes. “It’s two am, Namjoon.”

“It’s -” There’s a shuffle. “Did I calculate the time difference wrong? Why did I think I was ten hours ahead?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles into her pillow. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologise,” he says, sounding incredibly guilty. “For last night. I… I kind of fell asleep.”

Nothing he’s said makes any sense to Kaya. Sighing, she turns over slightly and frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier,” he clarifies. “In the evening for you, I guess. We were talking and I…”

“You fell asleep.” She remembers now. 

Despite parting in Seoul on a bittersweet note, with the mutual but unsaid knowledge of their dalliance ending, they hadn’t been able to cut ties fully. Namjoon had messaged her late the next day asking if she’d landed safely, she’d sent him a picture from her cab in response, and the conversation never ended.

It was still restrained, for the most part. Kaya, at least, was aware that an emotional connect had been built in Seoul - but they’d said goodbye and gone back to their lives. Anything further should be nothing more than friendly, like pen pals who kept each other updated on their lives.

Earlier this evening, they’d been talking on the phone about something extremely mundane. Kaya was in a pub with her friends, but knowing that Namjoon probably didn’t have a lot of time, she excused herself for a few minutes and went to a spot away from the music, near the washrooms. She was leaning back against the wooden wall and talking about her thesis but every time she tried to change the topic to something less boring, he asked her to continue, sounding genuinely interested in a very operational aspect of her work.

He was tired - that much she could hear. He still kept the conversation going, at first with questions and eventually progressing to occasional exclamations, until suddenly, he went completely silent. Kaya guessed he may have fallen asleep; a quick calculation reminded her it was three am in Seoul, so on some level she was actually glad he was finally resting.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she murmurs, brushing her hair off her face. “It was really late for you.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve said good night,” he points out. “Sorry about that. And… I’m sorry about waking you up right now,” he adds, audibly wincing. “For some reason I thought I was ten hours ahead.”

She chuckles sleepily. “Happens to the best of us. Timezones are always a pain.”

“Not something we need to worry about, right?” Namjoon says after a moment, and she thinks his half-chuckle sounds a little forced.

“Nope. Good thing we quit while we were ahead.”

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds while Kaya, in her half-asleep state, imagines what it might be like to fall asleep with him in person. She’d almost considered it on her last night in Seoul; they’d been under the covers, naked and talking about nothing in particular when he’d softly offered for her to stay the night. 

Had she been a more impulsive person, she may have said yes, but it seemed too intimate to do with a person she’d technically known for a little more than a week. Now, she wonders idly if she’d been too hasty with her decision.

“You should sleep,” he says after a moment, still sounding a bit guilty.

“You woke me up, you put me back to sleep,” she retorts softly.

“Yeah? You want a bedtime story?���

“Sure, why not?”

Namjoon laughs, and the sound makes her toes curl inside her blanket. “Wait, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She pulls her covers up to her chin and curls up into a comfortable position. “Hit it, music producer.”

He chuckles a little disbelievingly. “Um, okay? Here goes nothing.” He takes a deep breath and starts, barely getting four words out before she interrupts him.

“Wait. Joon… you know I don’t understand Korean, right?”

The nickname is a first for her, and it sounds as though he’s picked up on it, too. “Yeah, I know. But you want to be put to sleep and I thought it might actually help.”

It’s genius. Kaya grins to herself, knowing somewhere deep down that she’s just setting herself up for heartbreak someday. She should stop this, quit while they’re ahead.

Instead, she hears herself tell him to continue.

—

The next reason comes up the day Namjoon learns about Damien Herjavec.

He’d made the executive decision to give Kaya his private Instagram handle a few days after she’d left Seoul. She’d never brought up following each other on social media until he did because despite how much he liked her, giving her access to something this personal required thought. It wasn’t until he went back to the bookstore where they’d bumped into each other for the first time, and he realised he wanted her to know that without him having to actually tell her, that he decided to do it. 

He searched her name on Instagram and followed her, trying to restrain himself from checking if she’d followed him back. She did eventually, a couple of hours later, and to a genuinely embarrassing amount of delight, she commented on his picture: Careful in the English section.

Kaya didn’t seem to use Instagram very often other than to put up very random pictures on her story of ordinary city shots: a street outside her campus, her own legs in faded jeans, a unicycle in the park in the distance. It was whimsical and cute, but also highlighted the few times she did post something else - such as a picture of her and three other people, sitting at a table with name cards in front of them and smiling into the camera.

Namjoon doesn’t immediately register the male in the picture. His focus is on Kaya, in a blazer and slinky black trousers and beige heels, her long hair straight and framing her face as she smiles. His heart skips a beat at the thought of her like this earlier today, in real-time, and he suddenly feels closer to her than he has in weeks. It stays all day, the lingering feeling, as though she’s finally in reach and he hasn’t been imagining her all this time, that he realises it's longing. He’s missing her, and the discovery immediately terrifies him.

He decides it’s officially time to end this transatlantic pseudo-fling and resolves not to call her or text her anymore, knowing they need to phase this out of their lives for both their good. It lasts a whole five hours until she texts him, with nothing more than a Hey.

Namjoon swallows and closes his eyes, knowing he’s in so much trouble. Hey, his fingers type out, as though of their own accord.

I think God sent me an angel today.

Yeah? Wings and everything?

Chinos and Vans, but I’ll take it. As long as he gives me an extra set of hands on this research project, I’ll worship whoever sent him to me.

Oh, your professor finally brought in someone else? That’s great!

Yess, it is. Maybe now I’ll remember to eat a meal and get more than a couple hours of sleep. Oh, and focus on my actual job.

I get that. I’m happy for you. You should be getting more sleep.

I know, right? Damien might just be the answer to my problems. Even staying up late in the conference room and checking survey results is better now because at least I’m not alone. I shouldn’t be complaining to you though - I know you have a worse workload.

Not true. I was in the studio till dawn but at least it has a comfortable couch.

You’re right. I have it worse.

Not now that you have Damien. The reply is out and sent before Namjoon can stop himself and he immediately cringes.

Yeah, well. I don’t know how long he’s going to be around for. Once this project is over, maybe I’ll refer him to Professor Llyod so he doesn’t keep tapping me to grade his papers.

Sounds like a plan. I’m sure Professor Lloyd will be happy.

His happiness isn’t really my concern, if I’m being honest. I wouldn’t mind if Damien stays. He actually has more than a few braincells and - get this - showers. 

Namjoon stares at his phone for a second. He sounds like the complete package.

You joke, but it’s a serious epidemic on a college campus. Having a colleague who smells good is a bigger bonus than you think.

How long do you think this project will be?

A couple of months? Hopefully? I don’t know - the professor heading it keeps adding problem statements constantly so it feels endless. I’m just really really tired.

Namjoon wants to offer words of comfort but he can’t think of any. In fact, all he can think about is how he, too, has a ridiculously long day ahead of photoshoots ahead of him tomorrow, where he won’t be allowed to eat much or drink any water, followed by filming.

He remembers about how he’s been thinking about her all day and knows he needs to at least try to nip this in the bud.

You know the worst thing about being a workaholic?

What?

Dating somebody who’s also a workaholic.

Kaya’s reply takes a few moments. Haha, point taken. Good thing that’s not a problem for us.

—

The next few reasons come up around the same time, and some of them are just downright silly.

Despite his best intentions to keep a distance, the moment he finds out he’s needed in Amsterdam for a collaboration, Namjoon not only says yes instantly but he also works his schedule to plan leaves and invent meetings around the same time, eventually extending his total trip to ten days.

He knows he’ll be working for some of that time; it’s the only reason he doesn’t feel desperate and clingy when he informs Kaya of the trip, asking as calmly as possible if she’d like to meet.

Kaya, for her part, feels like her heart might explode. It takes every bit of her willpower to suppress the smile on her face during the mid-term she’s invigilating; the undergrads, barely younger than her, don’t need to know anything about her personal life.

Oh, that’s great. Sure, we should catch up.

He’s coming for work and she already has a lot of it on her plate, but somehow it still feels as though every moment that can be squeezed out from their schedules is spent with each other. A lot of the deliberate distance that they tried to maintain while apart seems to have also gradually evaporated. 

It starts on his first night with dinner at a riverside cafe, where they greet each other with a casual hug like they’re classmates from high school. They walk back to her apartment with a respectful distance between them where she invites him for a cup of horrid instant coffee, like it’s the end of a blind date. 

It’s only when they’re actually indoors and alone and it’s dark because Kaya hasn’t even switched on the light yet that some of the pretence is dropped. She sees his tall silhouette come closer and smells his cologne; her hands go up automatically to rest on his shoulders as he kisses her, his hands large around her waist as he gently backs her up against the door.

They hang out in her apartment when they’re not outside; Namjoon says he’s sick of hotels and she can imagine (and she secretly doesn’t want him to leave), so she doesn’t mind much. Her apartment is small but the location is convenient and the sight of him in it, casual and comfortable, is something she feels she can’t get enough of.

“It’s an amazing view,” he says one morning, sitting sideways on the bench in her balcony. He’s got his glasses on and is sitting with a book, having woken up almost an hour before her. “I can even see the river from here.”

“It’s pretty great,” she admits, coming over and sitting next to him, leaning back against his legs. “The rent also takes a decent chunk out of my paycheck,” she adds dryly, shrugging, “but it’s worth it.”

“Don’t you get a place on campus? I thought all students do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So why didn’t you take it? Wouldn’t you save a lot?” he asks curiously.

Kaya bites her lip, still looking at the view. “I don’t like living on campus.”

“Really? You’d live right there - you’d probably save a ton of time on commute and everything, no? Plus, it would be safer than returning in the middle of the -”

“It’s not really my thing,” she interrupts him. “Do you want to go to Stedelijk today? If you do, we should leave soon.”

Namjoon nods and she smiles, patting his leg and going back inside. They leave in an hour; it’s a Sunday and it’s beautiful outside. The museum is just as incredible as she remembers from the first time she visited it, except now Namjoon is here, too, his fingers lingering right next to hers and brushing them every few seconds. 

They’ve had sex several times, they’ve fallen asleep together, they’ve even showered together once, but this - holding hands - still feels too soon. It feels like admitting something, something she knows by now that they’re both trying to deny because it just makes more sense that way. They can’t hold hands, for that’s the beginning of a very slippery slope.

“Hey, your view is so much better than mine,” says Kaya after a while, when they’re having lunch at a cafe near the museum. She’s looking at a picture on his phone of his gigantic window, the Han river flowing majestically outside it. “The river from my balcony is a speck in the distance.”

“I do have a good view,” he says fairly, taking back the phone. “But I mostly use my balcony for company. It feels too depressing otherwise. But yours honestly just feels like a bedroom with no roof,” he points out, something she’d never considered. “It has the mattress, the lights, the coasters. It’s like a haven in the middle of the city.”

“Really?” She’s both proud and slightly confused. “My mum’s been pestering me to get some plants in there but I just know I’m going to make a mess and forget about them and then they’ll eventually die. But, hey, who needs plants when I’ve got a whole haven?” 

Namjoon grins. “You want me to help you pick out some plants? I have a ton.”

She pauses mid-bite, a little disbelieving at how he continues to surprise her. “Seriously? You - you plant stuff?”

“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”

“Oh, it’s not -” She doesn’t know how to say that she can’t quite reconcile the posters of him that Jae-lin has shown her and the music videos she’s watched here and there of him rapping in oversized clothes, with someone who could tend to a garden. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“I plant a lot of things,” he informs her, cutting his steak and dipping it in the sauce. “For example, right now, I’ve just planted an idea in your head.” He smiles, his dimple popping. “So? Want to go plant shopping with me?”

Kaya watches him wince as the piece of steak breaks and falls in the bowl of sauce and he fishes it out, swearing under his breath. This is about the plants, she decides, trying to subtly place her hand over her mouth and cover her smile. He’s perfect but he’s not hers, and that’s the way it should be.

“Sure. I’ll go plant shopping with you.”

They look up the closest nursery and head there after lunch, pulling their caps over their heads in the afternoon sun. The desire to slip her hand into his is getting stronger; she imagines how big it would be around her own, the pressure both comforting and playful. To save herself from the temptation, she hooks her fingers around the strap of her sling bag and settles for just feeling his bicep brush against her shoulder.

The nursery is quaint and unbelievably colourful, looking like a kaleidoscope on the side of the road. They step into the shade and begin examining the small pots, reading the description underneath each.

“Definitely the tabebuia, if I may suggest it,” says Namjoon, pointing to a pretty pink plant. “It blossoms in the summer and it’s just gorgeous. It’ll be the highlight of your balcony.”

“Duly noted. What about its support acts?”

“Well -” He walks slowly towards her and points at another sapling. “The poppy is always nice. And - oh, dude, they have orchids here,” he adds in wonder, peering at the card underneath it. “I have one just like it - hang on -” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping on it.

Kaya surveys a few more saplings and turns to him slightly. “What about this one? It says it’s conducive to warm weather and grows even in harsh conditions such as -” She sees a movement out of the corner of her eye and looks to see Namjoon turning around and walking away. For a moment she thinks he’s going towards another plant but he just keeps walking until he’s passed the nursery, head still bent low over his phone.

Something stings in her heart, insulted at being cut off mid-sentence and ignored. She’s about to call his name when she hears the gasps.

“It’s RM!” 

There are two or three voices, accents foreign. Kaya freezes and turns away slightly, her mind working out why he abruptly walked away the way he did.

“I think it was him!”

“RM? Are you sure?”

“We can check…”

There’s some scuffling and words in a language Kaya can’t place in the moment, taken too off guard by the sudden interruption. She tries to breathe, willing the annoyance in her chest to go away. From a little way away, she spots what looks like a family with two teenage girls and a third one slightly older, gravitating towards the direction in which Namjoon left. 

She tries to look casually; he’s much further away by now, ducking into a coffee shop. The girls, in their minor confusion, seem to have lost sight of him. As they trudge away, disappointment evident in their voices, Kaya begins walking in the same direction, passing by the coffee shop as well. She texts him and continues down the path, stopping after a few minutes and waiting for him in a less crowded area.

She spots him sooner than expected. Even from a distance, she can see his lips pursed and his forehead creased, looking apologetic.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps softly when he’s within earshot. “It’s RM.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, coming over and wrapping his arms around her waist before kissing her softly. 

“M-hm.”

“I didn’t want them to see you. That’s all.” He takes a small step back and tilts his head. “All it takes is one picture on the internet and then…”

“I know,” she says finally, patting his arm comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?”

Kaya nods. “It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m sure it would be way worse for your girlfriend. You know, if… whenever…”

It’s his turn to nod knowingly, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. So you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Not about you, not about your fans,” she lists as they resume walking. “Not about your girlfriend… none of it.”

“Good.” Namjoon bumps her shoulder gently.

She doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she slips her hand into his.

Later that night, Kaya’s forgotten all about it, the only coherent thoughts in her mind being the feel of her sheets underneath her, Namjoon’s lips at her neck and his fingers inside her, moving right at her g-spot.

“F-fuck,” she stutters, knowing she’s close. Namjoon is a wizard with his fingers, she’s discovered. They are long, slender and move with a grace she hadn’t expected, and his hands find ways to elicit pleasure that even she hasn’t been able to unearth yet.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he murmurs in her ear, his deep voice making her moan softly. He nips gently at her earlobe. “Open your legs wider for me, baby?”

Kaya obeys; she can’t imagine not doing so. Her head is starting to spin. “I - I can’t,” she breathes, panting. “Oh, my God…”

“You want me to stop?” he asks, slowing down slightly.

“No!” she exclaims, eyes snapping open. “I just - oh, God - I can’t take this on a regular basis,” she explains tightly, fists clenching around the sheets. “I think I might die…” She flashes a dreamy smile, eyes fluttering shut. “Good thing you’re not my boyfriend, huh?”

Namjoon nods, coming up slightly and moving his fingers slightly faster. “Uh-huh. Lucky you,” he says, brushing his lips lightly over her nipple.

Kaya moans loudly at that; she’s got seconds before she probably passes out from the intensity of what he’s doing. At this very inopportune moment where it’s just her, him and their clammy, naked bodies against each other, her phone pings.

Namjoon swears softly in Korean but thankfully doesn’t stop. “Ignore it,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t care what it is.”

“What if it’s something important?” he murmurs calmly, pressing kisses down her jaw. “You sure you don’t want to answer it?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, biting down on her lip now. “It’s probably just - just Damien texting to confirm if - oh, God!” Her mind goes blank the moment he flattens his hand and rubs his palm over her clit. “Oh, God, baby - don’t stop, don’t - oh, my -” 

Unable to form words any longer, Kaya drops her head back on the pillow and moans loudly as her orgasm hits her, her back arching on the bed as Namjoon whispers low words of praise, voice so deep she can feel it in her stomach.

His fingers slide out slowly, her ears still ringing slightly. Her heart is going  a mile a minute and she drops her head to the side into his neck as she tries to breathe normally before she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

Namjoon brushes her bangs off her face affectionately, his dimple appearing faintly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You were saying?”

But she shakes her head. “I don’t remember,” she mutters, heart skipping a beat at his satisfied grin.

—

The next day, three days before Namjoon is to leave, they decide to plant her saplings.

“Somehow, I expected this to be more technical.” Kaya steps back and tilts her head, observing her handiwork. She’s still potting the tabebuia, while Namjoon seems to have already finished two and is working on his third.

“What do you mean?” he asks, gently picking up the poppy plant and lowering it into the pot. He steadies it on the low ledge where five newly purchased pots sit, soil littered around them. 

“Just.” She tosses a loose lock of hair out of her face, her hands muddy with dark soil. “You always see people with a ton of gardening tools and gloves and… you know. Outfits,” she adds. 

“We’re just potting plants,” he points out. “Your outfit is cute.”

“It’s pajamas.”

“What’s your point?”

Kaya smiles but then groans. “I suck at this, though. All your plants look perfect and mine looks like something that got trampled by a herd of cows.”

Namjoon snickers, neatly finishing with his plant. “It’s always messy at first, but it’s worth it at the end.” He gathers the spilt soil into a small mound and moves it to the corner before coming up to her. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’m holding the plant wrong or something because it keeps falling over,” she mutters, bending slightly to examine it. “Look, I think it’s - oh.” She breaks off when she suddenly feels his torso against her back and sees his arms come up in front of her, reaching for the tabebuia plant.

“Okay, so you need to hold it here,” he says calmly, as though the casual intimacy of their position isn’t causing explosions in his stomach like it is for her. “And then -” He pours a handful of soil into the pot. “- it stays still. Here, try it.”

If he notices her hands shaking, he doesn’t say anything. He takes them in his and places them in the correct position and they quietly pot the plant, the pale pink buds peeking through the leaves. Once they’re done, they stay there, and Kaya feels her chest start to contract, like she might suddenly cry.

She’s falling for him.

From behind her, Namjoon rests his hands on the ledge, encasing her. He gently bumps her head with his chin. “Should we name them?”

She nods like this was obvious, exhaling. “That one’s Fitzwilliam,” she declares, pointing to the one at the end.

“I’m sorry - what?”

“Fitzwilliam,” she repeats. “Like Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look at him - he’s right in the corner, not even on the same ledge as the others.”

“Yeah… because there’s no more space on this one.”

“It’s also the only plant that’s not a flower.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Fitzwilliam.”

“Fine. You freak,” he mutters, bumping her head again. “What about that one?”

They name the next three together, teasing each other with each one. Finally, they get to the tabebuia.

Kaya strokes one of the leaves. “This one’s easy. She’s Aphrodite.”

Namjoon nods. “I get that. A heavy name to live up to, though.”

“It makes complete sense. She’s the prettiest one here.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s probably a good thing we’re not together,” he says finally. “I don’t think I could handle not seeing her every day.”

Kaya swallows. Despite her heart feeling heavy again, she leans back against him, memorising his strong chest behind her. She wonders if she’s imagining his heartbeat. “You’re talking about…”

“Aphrodite,” he murmurs, partly against her hair. “Who else?”

She can feel his nose press against the side of her head. Don’t do it, she thinks desperately. Don’t do it, don’t do it. It would open up a pit of emotions she doesn’t want to face. 

“Maybe we can share custody,” she suggests half-heartedly. 

She can feel him smile slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Don’t do it. But it doesn’t work; he takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to her hair, and the dread settles deep in her stomach.

—

Kaya knew this day would come. After all, the only reason they even got this week was because Namjoon had work in Amsterdam. If it weren’t for that, this would’ve ended in Seoul. 

The last two days were spent largely apart; Namjoon had to fulfil his actual professional obligations and despite wanting to make the best of his time here, Kaya was glad to have some space for she wasn’t sure she was doing a good job hiding how she felt about his impending departure.

But the morning of his flight, she’s finally forced to face it.

It’s early, and Kaya has a class in two hours. She can’t think about that, though - which is worrying, because she always thinks about work. She sits on one of the dining chairs, the same one she sat on the first night he’d spent here, feet up and hugging her knees as she watches him speak to someone on the phone. In his hand is a shopping bag, half-filled with stuff he’s left here over the week.

“Yeah, okay,” he says vaguely, nodding. The phone is tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he ties his shoelaces. He replies in Korean before hanging up and slipping the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“My cab will be at the hotel in an hour,” he tells her.

“Okay.” Now that his attention is on her, she finds she can’t look at him. It occurs to her that she might be sulking; it’s just another embarrassment on top of the stupidity at feeling this horrible about Namjoon leaving. “Sure you have everything?”

“Yeah.” When she still doesn’t look at him, focusing intently on a pattern on her tablecloth, he sighs. “Kaya? Are you okay?”

No. But she’d rather die than admit that.

“Yeah.” She swallows and forces herself to look at him. “This just… really sucks. That’s all.”

Namjoon nods, and she wonders if he really knows how much. It would be too good to be true if they actually ever see each other again. The reasons not to are plenty and they’ve been laid out, several times, but all that’s needed is a single distraction in one of their lives, and they will be strangers again. Her heart shouldn’t hurt this much over someone who’s going to be a stranger.

He clears his throat. “Imagine if we were -”

“Yeah. I know.” She holds his gaze this time until he looks away. “Good thing we’re not.”

His phone pings then and they’re snapped out of the moment. “I need to go,” says Namjoon in a low voice. “Can I…”

Kaya nods, because of course he can, and gets up from the chair to walk over to him. He looks a little relieved that she came at all and gives her a small smile.

One kiss. That’s all. She steels herself, determined not to go beyond a quick, nice kiss that would be appropriate for a one-week fling that turned into two weeks. Namjoon tilts her chin up slightly and presses his lips to hers, their mouths opening together for a simple last kiss.

But then her hand goes up to his face and his arm comes around her waist and before they know it, they’re locked together in her living room, desperate to keep the moment going a little longer.

—

Namjoon loves London. It reminds him of his favourite weather in Seoul; the rain, the grey tint, the cloudy sky. It’s thoughtful, inspiring and romantic, and he honestly doesn’t understand why everyone complains about it so much.

Today, however, the weather has been worrying him. Throughout their interview, the radio show, the live performance and the retakes, he’s had one eye on the window, hoping the rain will ease up so Kaya’s flight can finally land. 

It feels like a miracle that she even said yes to coming. Ever since he’d left Amsterdam, he thought he could feel her becoming a bit distant. He wasn’t sure what it was; they still spoke, but topics stayed neutral and casual. She texted more than she called and one of their few common timeslots - her night and his morning - no longer worked because she said she was working late more often now. He tried not to think about it as Damien Herjavec stealing his time with Kaya away from him.

Maybe Namjoon was imagining it, or maybe it was everything he’d been dreading and they were finally, finally drifting apart. It hurt more than he expected it to and he was surprised at his reluctance to accept the fact, persevering in his efforts to stay in touch. 

She didn’t even confirm this trip immediately, citing her calendar and other conflicts, the entire time leaving Namjoon to imagine every possible reason on earth that she wouldn’t want to meet him. Finally, after nearly a week, she agreed out of the blue.

Let’s do it, had been her message, curt and to the point.

“For God’s sake,” says Yoongi dryly, his eyes not leaving the television in their shared hotel room, “just call her and ask her where she is.”

It’s a thought and an obvious one at that, but Namjoon has his reasons for not doing so. Her shortened replies and guarded conversations continued even after she accepted his invite; it’s confusing and worrying all at once, for now he has no idea what to expect when she finally arrives.

Kaya’s been texting him en route, though, so he knows her plane landed a couple of hours late, after which it took her a long time to get a cab, followed by a ridiculous amount of traffic throughout London. Namjoon taps his foot impatiently on the floor until Hoseok stares at him from across the room, and he relents.

Not bothering to change or tell his manager where he’s going, Namjoon takes the elevator downstairs and jogs out of the lobby and outside the hotel. It’s almost ten pm and this particular street seems to be largely empty. He’s glad; he’s still in the suit he was wearing all day and the last thing he needs right now is to worry about being recognised.

Kaya hasn’t responded to his last message; he tries not to worry, for she’d told him that her phone would probably die soon. It’s cold - freezing, actually - but the anxiety is superseding it to the point where his hands are actually feeling clammy.

Namjoon doesn’t want to think about the other reason she could be pulling away. Ever since Amsterdam, their conversations have started including more and more mentions of Damien, Kaya’s research partner. They’re random and harmless on the surface, but the name jumps out at Namjoon each time.

He doesn’t know if it’s just that she’s working more with Damien now or if she’s doing it on purpose, trying to hint at a development and giving him a kind way out of this. Or maybe he’s overthinking it; from all accounts, Damien seems to have made her life easier and is a good colleague, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her to bring him up.

Then again, the possibility of it being something more is enormous. Kaya is beautiful and intelligent and thoughtful; Namjoon can’t imagine that if she were to send even the smallest signal, that she would remain single for long.

One night, with his self-respect somewhere around his ankles, Namjoon resorted to looking up Damien on Facebook (he wasn’t on Instagram), huddled in the dark under his blanket. Damien seemed to be in his late twenties at best, with reddish blond hair and a tall, lanky frame. The stalking exercise didn’t result in anything conclusive, except that Namjoon now had a face to put to the name of this individual who seemed likely to steal his girl.

His stomach twists. He hates how much he cares, hates how much mind space it’s taking up for him. But mostly, he hates that it might be true. 

When Kaya had agreed to come to London, his nerves had eased slightly. But the curtness of her response still stayed in his mind, as though she had suddenly decided to do something. It’s occurred to him more than once that she might be coming just to end this in person. It doesn’t seem like something she would do, but he’s also been forced to admit that he doesn’t know her well enough to be sure of that.

The traffic is crazy.

Namjoon exhales shakily at her text and is about to reply when another message pops up.

Should be about twenty minutes now.

Damn there’s a road closure.

Might be quicker to walk.

Okay, I’m walking.

See you in a few.

The messages appear in rapid succession and Namjoon scans them quickly, realising that she’d probably lost signal somewhere along the way. Based on the time stamps, she should be arriving any minute now.

His head snaps up to look in both directions in front of the hotel. It’s started to drizzle now; Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and feels the hairspray having faded away, leaving damp strands of hair to fall on his forehead. He exhales; if she’s coming to end this, he’s not ready. If she isn’t, then he knows, finally, what he’s going to do.

It’s only about two minutes later, but it feels like a lifetime that he’s been waiting to see Kaya again. He spots her at the end of the street, dressed in jeans and a slim, grey blazer. Her boots splash softly in the tiny puddles as she walks and her head is tilted up at the buildings across the street, as though looking for a landmark. Behind her is a compact suitcase being pulled on wheels, rolling smoothly on the concrete.

Namjoon’s heart leaps at the sight of her. She’s frowning, though; he hopes it’s out of concentration and tiredness. As she gets closer, he notices her long hair slightly wavy, as though wet in the drizzle. She must be cold; he makes a mental note to offer a hot shower as soon as they go inside.

Kaya looks straight ahead then - and her face breaks into a smile. It lights up and Namjoon knows he isn’t imagining it. He tries to ignore the hope igniting inside of him and tugs at his tie to loosen it. It’s now or never; he can’t risk feeling like this for a moment longer or he’s afraid it might kill him.

Four feet away from him, she pauses momentarily to straighten her suitcase and let go of it, continuing her stride towards him. The smile has faded and her expression is blazing, Disney princess eyes locking onto his. She looks more determined than ever and all other thoughts leave Namjoon’s mind.

“Please tell me you’re not dating this Damien person,” he blurts out desperately, noting how she flashes him a breathless smile.

“No,” she answers, a moment before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Namjoon’s arms go around her automatically, memorising her exact shape and feel against him. It takes him a moment to remember to be relieved; it’s just her lips and her hair and her beautiful, familiar, incredible form back in his arms and in his life.

Kaya pulls away first, panting a bit and tossing her long hair out of her eyes, her arms still around him. “Why? You want to date me instead?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. His heart skips a beat at that smile again, almost blinding him, and he takes it. “Yes,” he repeats, bringing one hand to her face and kissing her again, murmuring the same word against her lips. “Yes, yes, yes…”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[mountingpulisic]

MOUNTAIN WITH A VIEW

it's seven am and i'm on a mountain with a view

i'm the only one, alone, at a table meant for two

big sur looks beautiful this morning

and i should be missin' you, i should be missin' you

you lost your appetite. 

sitting alone in the vacant penthouse that you called home, you couldn’t help but to feel lonely. 

the big breakfast you had prepared for your husband’s arrival had now gone cold as you mindlessly shoved the eggs on your plate with a fork.  

christian had decided to extend his stay in amsterdam, giving you the excuse of wanting to explore the city with his team mates, promising to bring you back a souvenir. 

any other time you wouldn’t have minded, however with your marriage hanging on for dear life at the moment, it had struck a chord within you. 

shifting your attention from your plate to the scenery that rested next to you, you couldn’t help but to be blown away by the view. 

the mountains had always looked so beautiful in the morning, you and christian would always wake up extra early to be able to catch the sunrise. 

you missed him. 

or did you just miss the person he used to be?

you're across the pond at a show, i think, in amsterdam

and the pictures look pretty, at least they do on your instagram

we say good morning, then goodnight

i wonder if you even know where i am, where i am 

he had left for amsterdam a few days ago. 

you had been keeping up with his adventures through instagram, the two of you having little to none communication since he has been away. just a simple good morning and good night were the only words spoken to each other. 

no, i love you.

no, i miss you. 

no, i want this marriage to work. 

you wondered if he was curious to where you were, not bothering to ask about your whereabouts whenever he called. you could’ve been somewhere in alaska for all christian could care, if he even cared to begin with. 

I'm wearin' the ring still, but i think i'm lyin'

sometimes you forget yours, i think we're done tryin'

i realize you loved me much more at twenty-three

i think that this is when it's over for me, mm, mm

twirling your wedding ring around your finger, you asked yourself why you even bothered to still wear it? 

you were in denial with yourself about the foreseeable ending of your marriage. 

growing up you had always promised yourself you weren’t going to turn up like your parents, that you were going to get married once and live happily ever after. 

what a lie that was. 

thinking back to christian, you wondered if he even remembered to bring his wedding ring with him, always telling you that he accidentally forgets when you call him concerned why it was still on his nightstand. 

how do you forget your wedding ring you had always asked yourself, it was as if he wasn’t even trying to put in the effort anymore to make things between the two of you work. 

twenty-three year old you wouldn’t believe the situation you guys were in now, you swore he loved you more back then when you were naive. the innocent girl who loved hard and worried about the consequences later. 

now those consequences were knocking at your door, making it a daily reminder that you were too young to get married, too immature to understand the responsibilities that came with a marriage. 

taking a bite of the toast that you accidentally burnt, you pondered if this was when your marriage was over for you.

i can't believe i’m a few months out from twenty-nine

i can't handle another year of you and i just bein' fine

i've shared all my secrets and i've paid for all my crimes

and our stars ain't fallin' back in line   

your birthday was around the corner, the big two nine fast approaching. 

you used to always be so excited for birthdays, christian had the habit of going above and beyond with showering you with love on your special day. 

however, with the years passing by, he begins to lack in the department of showing you love. and you didn’t know if you could handle another year of disappointment, not only on your birthday but for your marriage as well. 

you felt like you were giving everything but getting nothing in return. 

you told your secrets.

you confessed to your wrong doings. 

but that wasn’t enough, nothing was enough to repair the irreversible damage that has been done. 

i think that this is when I cut the ties

i think that is when I set myself free

one day you'll ask, "when was it over for you?

when christian returned from his trip, things began to unfold quickly. 

it was stupid, you know, but you couldn’t help but to yell at him for forgetting the souvenir.it was as if him bringing back a silly keychain was going to solve all of you guys’ problems, that everything was going to fall back in place. 

“i told you i’m sorry, y/n. why are you making this into such a big deal?” he asked, not understanding your cold demeanor towards him as you made dinner. slamming the knife that you were using to chop up the vegetables, you spun around to look at him. 

“when was it over for you?” you whispered but he still heard you. 

i'm takin' the ring off, i'm finally cryin'

don't try to find yours, no reason to fight it

you'll say I'm crazy for bein' the one to leave  

“what are you talking about?” christian was beyond confused, why were you asking something like that? all he knew was that he had just amused that your marriage was hitting a rough path that many marriages had, that the two of you were going to sail safely back to shore after this storm. 

“wait, where’s your ring?” 

“where’s yours christian?”

taken back at your venomous tone, christian glanced down at his ring finger. he must have forgotten it again when he was leaving for work this morning. 

“i forget mine so you decided to just not to wear yours?” christian was the one to project his voice this time, arms extending out to gesture towards your empty ring finger. “you’re married, y/n. you don’t need to be immature and not wear a symbol of our unity.”

“am i married, christian? because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! I am stuck in this house by myself time and time again while you are off in different cities or countries every single week. you don’t talk to me, you don’t miss me, you don’t love me anymore christian! i can’t help but to think that maybe i should just bite the bullet and finally leave.” 

you were crying, you were finally crying. 

you had held back on expressing your true emotions on the situation, fearing that when you finally swallowed the pill that this was the end of your marriage, there was no going back.

that there was going to be no more christian. 

“you are crazy if you think that you are leaving.” 

scream, I'm just like my parents and givin' up easy

but you never took that last flight to see me

looks like our ending ain't endin' happily

I think that this is when it's over for me

me, me

I think that this is when it's over for me

me, me, mm

“you’re just like your parents y/n, giving up so easily! where’s your fire! where’s the woman that i married?! the woman who promised to fight like hell to keep our marriage? this is what you call a happy ending?! this is the ending you’ve wanted since you were little?!”   

christian hit below the belt, and he knew that, just by how quickly your expression changed by the mention of your parents' failed marriage. it was something you shared with him early on in your engagement, expressing how you feared to end up hating him, like your dad had with your mom. you told him about the constant screaming, the dishes that were thrown, the horrendous words they would speak to each other. 

you had made him promise to you that the two of you would never get to that point in your marriage.  

look at you now

[moltolavoro]

@pluresque

he is in amsterdam, in the middle of a show full of topless women and sweat-slicked men, and suddenly his name is being shouted into his own head. despite himself, lestat recognises the voice - the accent is distinct, and the tone grating, memorised from clips and the knowledge that this man has all the raw pieces of louis at his desposal. and is now, it seems, privy to the gift.

armand always did make bad decisions.

it is a miracle lestat does not falter in his performance - he makes that clear enough to the voice iwithin his head, and daniel molloy shows no remorse for it, a fact that aligns with everything lestat already knows of him. and yet his annoyance is forgotten as quickly as it had begun - daniel's news, it seems, warrants all the volume with which daniel carried it.

he aches to walk off the stage, straight to where he needs to go. but there is too much suspicion to that. he finishes the show ; hardly his best. his band is angry with him and lestat snarls until they retreat. his personal assistant muscles through anyway, and lestat would have fucked her months ago if she had any interest in men, but she is the only one not frightened by his rage. he demands a plane ticket - she argues about the tour. he demands again and she relents, and lestat finds himself on a tucked away in the deep recesses of a plane.

he finds himself landing in the darkness, tucking himself away from the world as he makes his way to his destination. no part of what daniel had told him was a lie. lestat does not kill the humans who work at louis' building - the seems a step too far. he makes his way up. the door is unlocked, and he finds himself in a concrete penthouse that does not echo the love and joy and life that louis carries with him.

and there he is - a stark contrast to the bleak grey surrounding him. lestat stands a moment, still in the clothes he was wearing on stage, still in the makeup, his hair dishevelled as they stand in silence for one, two moments before lestat decides to speak.

❛ would you have told me about this desire to kill yourself? ❜ for how unmoored lestat feels, he stands steady in his questioning. ❛ or is it the reporter who knows everything about you now? ❜

[leibal]

N1 Penthouse is a minimal penthouse located in Amsterdam, The Netherlands, designed by zU-studio. The house’s uniqueness lies in its innovative understanding of space and volume, providing a wide range of spaces, sequences, and visual connections. The design aims to create a peaceful, calming atmosphere, encouraging deeper connections with oneself and others.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for sending this unique ultra-modern apt. in Amsterdam. You literally get 4 apts. made into 1 penthouse. There are no neighbors above or below the connection, and, it's above a shopping center- I would literally be in heaven. 4bds, 3.1ba, € 2.275M / $2.400M

As you can already see, it's a huge home. Check out the chess board in the floor. (If you're like me, you can always play checkers.)

The living room is so big, a grand piano fits in with tons of room to spare. Like the separating wall- you could use the shelving for books or display.

Beautiful modern fireplace is situated between 2 rooms.

Doesn't this dining area look like a bistro? It has a long banquette, and would be great for entertaining.

Modern kitchen unit with built-ins and a chalkboard wall.

The dining area is super-spacious.

This is cool- an indoor/outdoor space.

Hallways are well-lit.

Everything in this home is over-sized. Look at this bathroom. I love "conga drum" sinks.

Double showers.

Dressing room/closet.

Stairs to the 2nd level.

What a fun lofted bedroom.

That's kind of an odd place for a window, but it's a nice bath.

This upper level bedroom is spacious, interesting, and also has a fun loft.

The en-suite for this room is also very nice.

So many bedroom options. This one is a flex-space b/c it has its own stairs from the floor below.

Another large bedroom. There's a lot that you can do with this apt.

It just keeps going and going. This would make a great studio.

Partial bath.

Here's your mailbox.

And, more of the great shopping center.

[simsdastra]

Thanks for remembering me @frostedshore 💕

Last Song: Meet Me in Amsterdam - RINI

Favourite colour: Bronze, Beige

Currently Watching: Laws & Orders season 1

Last Movie: Love at First Sight. It's surprisingly good for a Netflix rom-com.

Currently reading: A Chinese novel called "长公主" The leading couple is reborn after killing each other due to misunderstandings and politic conflicts. I'm a sucker for "old flames" stories.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I prefer spicy dishes these days. I think I can brag that I have more spice tolerance than most of my sims.

Last thing I googled: Loft apartment

Current Obsession: Of course it's the sims. I'm redecorating all apartments & penthouses in San Myshuno.

I'd like to tag @blissio @simmoothie @pitchyzzsim @damseljamsel but no pressure at all unless you want to do.

[readingabookmostofthetimes]

Happy 2024

In 2023 I read the following books:

Monterosso mon amour, by Ilja Leonard Pfeijfer

The Langauge of Thorns, by Leigh Bardugo

Renegades, by Marissa Meyer

Heartstopper, by Alice Oseman

The Lives of Saints, by Leigh Bardugo

Archenemies, by Marissa Meyer

Heartstopper volume 2, by Alice Oseman

Heartstopper volume 3, by Alice Oseman

Heartstopper volume 4, by Alice Oseman

An Italian Girl in Brooklynn, by Santa Montefiore

Volwassen worden is optioneel, by Marloes de Vries

De woestijndief, by Emmelie Arents

The Mitford Vanishing, by Jessica Fellowes

Wat gebeurde er met David, by Henk Hardeman

Queen of Shadows, by Sarah J Maas

Supernova, by Marissa Meyer

Wees Lucie, by Astrid Boonstoppel

Grijs, by Carlie van Tongeren

Zwaar verguld, by Chantal van Gastel

Over straatfiguren en wegpiraten, by Mijke Pelgrim

Anna K Away, by Jenny Lee

Zorro. The Curse of Capistrano, by Johnston Mcculley

De tweede stem, by Elin Meijnen

Mortal Engines, by Philip Reeve

De meesterdief, by Emmelie Arents

Nick and Charlie, by Alice Oseman

Stewardess Hannah in Parijs, by Petra Kruijt

Stewardess Hannah in Rome, by Petra Kruijt

Sintel en As, by Mara Li

Stewardess Hannah op Ibiza, by Petra Kruijt

The Golden Enclaves, by Naomi Novik

Welkom in Smartpark, by Mirjam Mous

Stewardess Hannah in Reykjavik, by Petra Kruijt

The Iron Sword, by Julie Kagawa

Gilded, by Marissa Meyer

The Syndicate, by Shelena Shorts

Stewardess Hannah in Barcelona, by Petra Kruijt

Stewardess Hannah in Amsterdam, by Petra Kruijt

The Pace, by Shelena Shorts

Stewardess Hannah in New York, by Petra Kruijt

One of us is Lying, by Karen M Mcmanus

Predator's Gold, by Philip Reeve

Stewardess Hannah in Praag, by Petra Kruijt

The Broken Lake, by Shelena Shorts

Stewardess Hannah op Curaçao, by Petra Kruijt

One of Us is Next, by Karen M Mcmanus

Stewardess Hannah in Lissabon, by Petra Kruijt

Wind, by Esther Walraven

The Iron Quill, by Shelena Shorts

The Hour of Dreams, by Shelena Shorts

Penthouse, Lotte Boot

Denken wat je wilt, doe wat je droomt, Gijs Jansen

Empire of Storms, by Sarah J Maas

One of Us is Back, by Karen M Mcmanus

Confessions of a Shopaholic, by Sophie Kinsella

To All the Boys I've Loved Before, by Jenny Han

Ivelle, by Laura Diane

PS. I Still Love You, by Jenny Han

Always and Forever, Lara Jean, by Jenny Han

Anders, beter, by Lisa van Campenhout

The Iron Vow, by Julie Kagawa

[affcgato-archived]

let the sunlight in / vampire au

→ kaz brekker // let the sunlight in (v.)

born on a rural farm at the turn of the 19th century, Kaz & his brother sold the farm after the death of their father & made for Amsterdam - the new capital of the Kingdom of Holland as declared by King Louis Napoleon. 

neither one of them would survive the city - both were infected by a disease that swept off the merchant ships at the port. both of the brothers succumbed - the problem is, Kaz didn’t stay dead. 

now, over 200 years old, Kaz has cultivated a reputation that shrouds his age in mystery. he has an extensive trading network fencing antiques, artwork, & other valuables that have slipped through the cracks of history. with this new world, he has more freedom than he ever has before - so long as he can keep to the shadows.

notes for the verses.

the plague that infected both was vampiric in nature - Jordie seemingly rejected the virus, Kaz’s body did not

Kaz has a double set of fangs - smaller, pointed lateral incisors & much sharper canine teeth (example image, cw blood)

he prefers using processed, donated blood through a network organized for vampires instead of feeding off willing donors, in line with his touch aversion

his net worth in this verse is much higher than others, given his increased lifespan. as such, he has a penthouse in NY. the windows are treated & he has extensive blackout shades on timers set to lower just after sunrise & rise before the last vestiges of sun light fade so he can see the light somewhat safely. 

[ephemeralsyndicate]

+1 ACCEPTANCE

〈  sira-anna faal /  non-binary  / she/they 〉well, well, well.. if it isn’t CALYPSO— oh, i mean IRIS DE VALK. their vibe is unmistakable: RABBITSKIN GLUE, ORGANISED PIGMENTS, AND THE GLINT OF A PALETTE KNIFE. they finally turned up at the penthouse, though i suppose you can’t keep a TWENTY-SIX-year-old locked away all day. you know… i heard that they’re A PERFECTIONIST & CRITICAL. i don’t know how the dove syndicate puts up with them, to be honest. maybe it’s because they’re said to be OBSERVANT & CREATIVE? at least, that’s what i heard. i suppose if everyone else finds them tolerable, it’s none of my business. i heard their role in the syndicate is THE HIGH PRIESTESS. i wonder how they ended up there anyway, since they’re from AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS… oh well, it’s none of my business, but i hope they aren’t injured during the next heist.

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