#vanmccann x reader

[homesickwhispers]

welcome home. (part 1.)

(Van X Reader)

After a long tour, you and Van finally travel back to your hometown.

As we arrived in my city, everything seemed to fall into place.

The scent of the sea hit me first, filling the car with that familiar salty air that I had missed so much.

The warmth of the sun and the breeze that danced through the open window felt like a warm embrace, like my home was welcoming me back in the best possible way.

In that moment, it felt like I had never left.

I grinned like a child, my eyes stinging with happy tears at the sight of the streets I had grown up on.

My dad was at the wheel, focused on the road, while my mom sat beside him, her excitement palpable as she glanced back at me and Van.

Her little girl was now 23, living on a whole other continent and walking around with a boyfriend.

So many changes in such a short time, and yet for my mother, I would always be her little one. I could almost see the memories flickering in her eyes—the little girl who used to play fake concerts in the living room, and the teenager who had experimented with hair dye and tattoos.

My parents didn’t speak much English, but that didn’t stop my mom from trying to make small talk with Van.

She smiled at him warmly, her words a little hesitant but full of kindness. “Van, you… like… city? Is good, yes?” she asked, her thick accent wrapping around every syllable as she pointed outside the car window.

Van, ever the charmer, gave her a genuine smile as he ran his hands through his hair and nodded. “Yes, it’s beautiful. I can see why (Y/N) loves it so much.”

My mom beamed at his response, clearly proud, even if she didn’t catch every word. “ (Y/N)… always… love home,” she added, glancing back at me with that look only moms give when they’re proud.

“Yes, I do, mom” I said, grinning back at my mom, feeling the warmth of home settle even deeper in my chest. Her smile grew wider, and I could see the happiness in her eyes, the kind of joy that comes from seeing your child return after a long time away.

Van glanced over at me, giving my hand a soft squeeze, as if he wanted to tell me something.

He didn’t. But he didn’t even need to. The look in his eyes told me he didn’t need words, to understand just how much this moment meant to me.

I glanced back at him, feeling like my heart might burst. His blue eyes caught the sunlight, making him look almost ethereal—more like an angel than usual.

It was one of those moments where I couldn’t quite believe he was real, let alone sitting beside me, here in my world.

I chuckled softly, noticing how overdressed we both were compared to the casual vibe of my city. Van, with his stylish jacket and polished boots, looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine, while I was dressed completely in black, still picking my clothes as if I was a roadie on tour.

“We’re sticking out like sore thumbs, huh?” I said, glancing down at my clothes and then back up at him.

Van smirked, looking around. “A bit, yeah. But we make it look good, don’t we?” He nudged me lightly, the playful glint in his eyes making me laugh.

“Maybe we should’ve just worn flip-flops and shorts, We’re in Brazil, after all.” I teased.

“We still have plenty of time for that, love,” he replied with a grin.

As we fall into silence for a bit, it was my dad’s time to try and talk to Van. I couldn’t hide how much fun I was having with that.

His Portuguese accent was thick, and I could hear the effort he put into speaking English. “Van, (Y/N) say you two in band. How she do?

“She’s amazing..muito bem!” Van said, glancing at me with that soft look in his eyes, I had no idea he learned that phrase. “She’s been a huge support for us. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

“(Y/N) very special girl. You take care?” my dad asked, looking directly at Van, his protective nature coming through despite the language barrier.

“I promise,” Van replied earnestly, meeting my dad’s gaze without hesitation. “I’ll always look out for her.”

“Good,” my dad said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. He turned to me, “You happy?”

“I am, Dad,” I said, my heart swelling. “Really happy.”

The warmth of that moment wrapped around us, making the air feel electric. It was important for Van to see this side of my life—the family who had shaped me, the roots that grounded me.

As the conversation flowed between me and my parents in Portuguese, I glanced over at him, who was sitting beside me, looking content despite not understanding a word.

Every now and then, I’d lean over to translate bits of the chat for him, but he just smiled, his hand still holding mine since we left the airport, completely at ease in the moment.

“You okay?” I asked softly, giving him a small nudge.

“More than okay,” he replied, his accent making the words sound warmer somehow. “I just like watching you with them… it’s nice.”

His response made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. Despite the language barrier, Van seemed happy just to be part of this world I grew up in, even if it felt miles away from the life we shared on tour.

My dad said something about the beach, and I quickly translated, “He wants to take us to the beach tomorrow.”

Van’s eyes lit up, “Beach sounds perfect.”

I grinned, feeling grateful for how easily he fit into this part of my life. It was a side of me he hadn’t seen before, and somehow, it felt like another piece of us falling into place.

“I already knew you were marriage material but I might start calling you husband way sooner if you keep acting like this.”

Van chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he squeezed my hand. “Oh yeah? Husband material, eh?” he teased, leaning in slightly. “I’m just here impressing the in-laws, love. You make it sound like a challenge.”

I laughed, feeling the warmth between us. “Well, you’re doing a damn good job so far,” I said, glancing at my parents who were still chatting away, oblivious to our little exchange.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Guess I’ll just have to keep this up, then. Might get myself a nice little upgrade from ‘boyfriend’ when we get back.”

I playfully rolled my eyes, though my heart swelled with happiness. “You better,” I joked. “The bar’s been set high now.”

Van grinned, pulling me closer for a quick kiss on the temple. “Challenge accepted.”

“Also..” Van said pulling back a bit so our eyes can meet “…ya sound pretty damn hot when you speak Portuguese.”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, a shy smile spreading across my face. “Stop it.” I laughed softly, nudging him playfully. But I couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled up inside me at his compliment.

Van leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “I’m serious, love. You’re glowing. It’s like you’re in your element here, and I’m lucky enough to watch.”

I bit my lip, trying to hide my grin. “Well, maybe you just like not understanding what I’m saying,” I teased, looking up at him with a glint in my eye.

“Nah,” he said with a wink. “It’s not about the words. It’s you. Always you.”

I shook my head, but my heart fluttered at his words. “You’re too much, you know that?”

He smiled, his fingers intertwining with mine. “I’m just getting started.”

As we drove home, the familiar streets of my childhood passed by, filled with memories.

The air was warm, and the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a soft glow in the car.

I couldn’t help but laugh when my dad turned on the radio and “Cocoon” filled the car.

“Really, Dad?” I teased, glancing over at him. “You’re just trying to embarrass me now, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, knowing exactly what he was doing.

I leaned back against Van’s chest, feeling safe and happy in his embrace as the music played.

He wrapped his arm around me, and I could feel him smiling against my hair.

“This is a good tune,” he said, looking down at me. “I see why you like these dudes so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, their lead singer is pretty hot,” I said jokingly, shooting a playful glance at him

He raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. “Oh, really? Good to know you have a type.”

As we drove on, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude for this moment—being back home, surrounded by my family, and sharing it all with Van.

The laughter, the warmth, and the comfort of the song wrapped around us like a familiar blanket, making everything feel just right.

I leaned into him a little more, feeling like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

“Welcome home, love” He said, kissing me softly as we parked into my house before going to help my dad with our luggage.

When Van and I reached my parents’ house, I knew exactly what I’d look for first.

We had barely stepped through the front door when my eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar white pool of fur that would be Doki, my childhood dog. There he was, resting peacefully in his little bed, his once energetic form now quiet and serene.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I knelt beside him, taking in the sight of my loyal companion who had been by my side for 15 years. One of my biggest fears when I left for the UK was never seeing him again. He was too old to travel, and my mom couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in the house without him.

But here he was, still holding on. Doki was too old for his usual excited barks and the wild rush to greet us at the door. Now, he just slept peacefully. But I was already so happy, just knowing he was here.

I gently caressed his fur, feeling the softness that had comforted me for years. “Hi, buddy,” I whispered. “Mama’s home.”

Van crouched down beside me, his warm presence grounding me in the moment. “Hi, little fella,” he said softly, stroking Doki’s fur alongside me.

There was a quiet understanding between us as we knelt there, sharing this small but deeply meaningful moment with the old friend who had seen me through so much.

“It’s so nice to see him again,” I said, turning to Van as I stood up.

Van smiled softly, standing up beside me. “I can tell how much he means to you,” he replied, his hand gently resting on my back.

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief and nostalgia wash over me. “Yeah… he’s been with me through everything. It’s like he understands without needing to do anything.”

Van looked at Doki, still resting peacefully. “It’s good he’s still here for you. Maybe he knew you’d come back to see him.”

His words brought a warmth to my heart, and I leaned into him, grateful for this moment and the quiet understanding between us. “I think so,” I whispered. Doki kept sleeping, snoring a bit and my eyes sparkled with love.

“Well..Ready to see my room?” I asked, a hint of excitement in my voice, trying to shake off the emotional moment.

Van raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Oh, absolutely. I’m curious to see where the magic happens.”

I laughed, feeling a flutter of nerves. “Magic? Don’t know about that…I don’t want to disapoint you, Rockstar.”

He chuckled, nudging me lightly. “That’s impossible. Lead the way, love.”

As we walked down the hallway, I felt a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. This was my space, my childhood, and it felt important to share it with him.

When we reached my room, I opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for him to follow. “Here we are.” I said shyly.

The moment we stepped into my room, I could feel Van’s eyes scanning every inch of the space.

It was a small room, filled with little pieces of my past—old posters, books I’d never thrown out, and trinkets from my teenage years cluttering the shelves.

The bedspread was still the same from when I was fifteen, a soft pastel color with tiny floral prints that felt both nostalgic and embarrassing now that Van was here.

Van stepped in, his eyes wide as he took in the pink walls, the fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and all the little trinkets that had been part of my life for years. “Oh my God, there’s so much stuff in here, love!” he exclaimed, laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, my parents know their kid, they didn’t move a thing.” I said with a grin, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

He walked over to the wall where some of my childhood drawings were framed. “Always artsy, hm?” he mused, looking impressed.

I nodded, biting my lip, and then motioned towards a small shelf filled with stuffed animals and old trophies. “And a bit of a hoarder, apparently.”

He laughed again, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s charming. You’ve got a lot of history here.”

I felt my heart swell at his words.

Van walked over to one of the shelves, picking up a framed photo of me from what must have been my school graduation. His grin widened as he held it up. “You were adorable. How did you not tell me you used to have bangs?”

I cringed a little, taking the photo from him and setting it down. “Yeah, we don’t talk about that phase,” I said, shaking my head. “I was going for ‘chic’ but ended up more like a bowl cut.”

He leaned in, wrapping his arms around my waist as I sat down. “Well, I think it’s cute,” he whispered against my ear, and I could feel the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“Wait, (Y/N).” He said walking to the other side of the room.

“Is that… me?” Van asked, pointing to the poster on my wall, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

I turned to look, and my eyes widened in horror as I spotted it—an old poster of Van from years ago, staring back at us.

“For fuck’s sake!” I muttered, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. “Oh my god, I totally forgot about that.”

We both burst out laughing, the kind of uncontrollable laughter that makes your stomach hurt. Van was practically doubled over, clutching his sides. “This is the best day of my life,” he gasped between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye.

I covered my face, still giggling. “I can’t believe this.”

Van shook his head, still grinning as he wrapped his arm around me. “I always knew you were my biggest fan.”

“You’re annoying but it’s true. I’m still your biggest fan…I’m so happy you’re here,” I whispered, my hand gently caressing his cheek.

Van leaned into my touch, his eyes soft as he looked at me. “I’m happy too, love. Can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

I looked around the room, feeling both vulnerable and oddly proud. “I haven’t slept in this bed in forever,” I admitted, it’s so crazy having you around here.”

Van pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “It’s kind of amazing, though. Seeing where you grew up, what surrounded you all those years before we met.”

As we settled into the room, Van’s eyes wandered again, and then suddenly, he burst out laughing. “Baby..What the fuck is that?” he asked, pointing up toward the ceiling.

I followed his gaze and winced when I saw it. My old fairy Barbie doll, dangling by a string from the ceiling with her glittery wings. “Oh, God… I forgot she was still up there.”

Van was practically doubled over in laughter. “Why is she…hangin’ like that?” he asked, catching his breath. “Is this some kind of ritual?”

I couldn’t help but laugh along, even as I cringed. “No! I don’t know. I think I was obsessed with her when I was younger, and at one point, I thought she’d look cool floating around like a real fairy. My dad hung her up there for me, and I just… never took her down.”

Van walked over, inspecting the fairy Barbie like it was some sort of relic. “She’s just… up there. Forever watching over you.”

I rolled my eyes, grinning. “Yeah, well, she’s probably judging me right now for bringing a boy in here.”

He turned back to me with that cheeky grin I couldn’t resist. “Nah, don’t worry, love. I reckon fairy Barbie’s well chuffed with me. Probably givin’ me the thumbs up right now.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, his lips brushing the side of my head. “Fairy Barbie approves of us.”

When his eyes left the doll, Van quickly found something else to catch his attention, carefully grabbing my old guitar

“Why don’t you sing me a song, love?” Van said, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

I rolled my eyes at him, but the truth was, I could never resist when he asked.

It was something about the way he said it—like he genuinely wanted to hear me, like it wasn’t just a request, but a kind of connection between us.

We squeezed into my small, pink bedroom—Van sat on the edge of the bed, knees bent, while I settled cross-legged on the floor, guitar resting in my lap. His eyes followed my every move, amusement dancing in them, like he already knew what song I’d choose.

I strummed a few chords, easing into the familiar rhythm of “Anything.”

“Such a romantic,” he said softly, more to himself than me.

As I played, Van’s amusement turned into something deeper. He watched me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered, his eyes full of something I could never quite put into words. It wasn’t just love—it was like he saw all the pieces of me, even the ones I wasn’t ready to show.

The song came to an end, the final note fading into the air, and I glanced up at him. He hadn’t moved, still perched on the edge of the bed, a soft smile on his lips.

“You alright there?” I teased, setting the guitar aside.

Van leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You know,” he said quietly, “you’ve got a way of makin’ everything around you disappear when you sing. It’s just you. Nothin’ else.”

My heart swelled at his words. There were so many things I didn’t feel sure of in this world, but with Van, moments like this made me feel like maybe I could be. Even just for a little while.

“Alright, enough of the show,” I said, standing up and stretching. “Go take a shower while I find us some space to unpack here.”

Van laughed softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind, pulling me into his chest. “My bossy girl,” he teased, his breath warm against my ear. “Love you.”

I smirked, turning my head to catch his eyes. “I just gave you the performance of the year, and you’re calling me bossy?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Aye, well, you’re brilliant at both—performin’ and bossin’ me around.” He winked before heading towards the bathroom, leaving me shaking my head with a smile.

As Van took his shower, I slipped out of the room and went to my parents’ bathroom to take mine as well. The warm water cascaded over me, and I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how natural it felt to have him here.

Tonight, my friends and family were throwing a welcome party for me and Van, and I was bursting with excitement, yet nerves twisted in my stomach.

It felt surreal to finally be back home, surrounded by the people I loved the most, and I could hardly believe that Van would be there with me.

He was my first boyfriend, the first man I was introducing to my parents. It was a big deal—an insane leap for me, especially considering how guarded I had always been about my relationships. I had shared so much of my life with Van, and now I was ready to let him into my world completely.

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my hair and smoothing out my dress, my heart raced at the thought of everyone gathering, laughing, and celebrating, but my mind kept circling back to Van. What if he didn’t like them? What if he felt out of place?

I heard a soft knock at the door before it opened slightly, and Van peeked in, a playful grin on his face. “You ready, love? The party’s about to start, I can hear your friends from up here.”

His easy demeanor was infectious, and it calmed some of the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I guess so. Just nervous.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, stepping fully into the room and leaning against the door frame. “And trust me, they’re going to love you. They’re doing all this for you.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words. “What about you? You’re the one who’s actually meeting my family.”

He shrugged casually, though I could see a hint of excitement in his eyes. “I’m just as nervous, but it’s all good. Just think of it as another show, right? I’ll charm them.”

I laughed, appreciating his playful confidence. “Yeah, but this is just a little different than being on stage.”

“True, but I promise I’ll do my best to impress them. Just be yourself, and everything will be fine.”

I took a deep breath, finally feeling ready. “Okay, let’s do this.”

As we walked out of my room and into the living space, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, and the familiar warmth of home wrapped around me. I felt Van’s hand slip into mine, grounding me amidst the excitement.

“Remember, I’ve got your back,” he whispered as we stepped into the gathering.

The minute we stepped into the place, I let go off of Van and went straight running into my best friend’s arms.

I felt a group hug forming as my closest friends gathered around us, laughter and joyful shouts echoing in the air. Their familiar warmth enveloped me, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. The nerves, the anxiety, the expectations..It was just me and them, like old times.

“I can’t believe you’re really back!” Emily exclaimed, squeezing me tightly. “It feels like ages since you left!”

“I missed you all so much,” I replied, blinking back tears of happiness. The overwhelming sense of belonging washed over me, and I felt lighter than I had in months.

I cried while hugging them, the overwhelming emotions crashing over me like waves. Gosh, I had cried so many times today. I could feel the warmth of their support wrapping around me, a comforting blanket against the chaos of my thoughts.

I tried to talk to as many people as I could, weaving through the crowd of familiar faces that filled the room.

My friends looked as amazing as ever, each of them radiating their unique energy and style. I couldn’t stop thinking about how proud I was of each of them—their growth, their achievements, and the incredible journeys they had embarked on since I left for the UK.

“(Y/N)! You look so good!” one of them, Carla, exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “You’ve changed so much since you moved! It’s like you’ve blossomed into this whole new person!”

“Thanks! I feel like I have, too,” I admitted, smiling as I hugged her tightly. “Being on tour has been an experience of a lifetime.

I don’t know how many times I’ve repeated, ‘This is Van, my boyfriend to different people. And my smile grew wider every time I said it. It was my favorite thing ever.

As I turned to look for him after catching up with Carla, my heart swelled with pride and affection. He was talking to my best friend Emily, laughing easily as if he’d known her forever. The way he effortlessly interacted with her made my heart flutter, solidifying what I felt deep down.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was animated, leaning in as she shared a story, his laughter filling the air. As Emily caught me admiring them, she raised an eyebrow and teased, “Are you alright?”

“I just love you two so much,” I said, stepping closer to them, warmth flooding my chest at the scene before me.

“I was telling Emily how much you used to talk about her when we were touring,” Van said, glancing between us with that charming smile of his.

“I couldn’t believe it, (Y/N). Did you really?” Emily asked, feigning shock.

“Of course, Em, you’re my everything. Anyone that loves me knows your name,” I replied, feeling a mix of pride and fondness for my friendship with her.

“Well, and I was telling Van about how you used to talk about him to me all the time too,” Emily added, her grin widening mischievously.

“Okay, okay, now that’s enough!” I laughed, playfully shoving her shoulder. The embarrassment crept up my neck, but I couldn’t deny the happiness bubbling inside me.

Van chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I’m flattered, really. I had no idea I was such a hot topic.”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face was undeniable. This was the life I had dreamed of—my best friend and the man I cared about finally coming together, sharing laughs, and getting to know each other.

“I need to know what exactly were you talking about?”

“Oh, just ranking all your embarrassing moments as a teenager,” Emily teased, crossing her arms and leaning back, clearly enjoying herself.

Van raised his eyebrows, pretending to consider whether he should share. “Yeah, well, I need to know what kind of dirt she got on my girlfriend.”

I gasped, looking at Emily in mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Van, did you know…(Y/N) lost her virginity to a Catfish and the Bottlemen song?”

Van looked at me, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Now, that’s a story I need to hear. What song?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. “Okay, fine! It was ‘Cocoon’ if you must know,” I admitted, throwing my hands up in mock surrender.

“No way!” Emily exclaimed, barely containing her laughter. “That’s so fitting! You were practically obsessed with that song!”

“Hey, I was young and in love!” I shot back, trying to defend my choice. “And it’s a great song!”

Van chuckled, leaning closer, clearly enjoying the moment. “Yes, it is! I mean, if that’s what it took for you to be with me, then I’m all for it.”

“Shut up!” I laughed, swatting at his arm. “You’re not supposed to encourage this.”

“Too late,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think it’s sweet. It makes the whole thing a bit romantic, doesn’t it?”

“It’s terrible!” I exclaimed, burying my face in my hands. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Maybe we can talk about the day when (Y/N) stepped on a stage for the first time.”

“Ok, Em. You have seen too much. Too much.”

Van grinned, leaning in as he rested his arm on the back of my chair. “Oh, now this, I’ve gotta hear,” he said, looking at Emily for more details.

Emily shot me a mischievous smile, completely ignoring my protest. “It was at the back of this crusty bar, you know, the type with sticky floors and everything smelling like weed,” she started, already laughing as she painted the scene.

“Oh God,” I muttered, covering my face with my hands. “I can’t believe we’re going here.”

“She was so nervous, bless her,” Emily continued, clearly enjoying every second. “She had practiced for weeks, but the second she got up there, she just started laughing—like, uncontrollable giggles.”

Van’s laughter rumbled beside me. “Oh, really? Sounds like something you’d do,” he teased, nudging me with his elbow.

“I couldn’t help it!” I defended, peeking out from behind my hands. “It was ridiculous! I mean, the place smelled awful, and someone kept shouting for me to sing Wonderwall. I lost it!”

“She did,” Emily confirmed. “And then, when she finally pulled herself together, she sang her heart out. Honestly, despite the chaos, you were amazing.”

I felt a surge of warmth at her words, though I tried to brush it off with a playful eye roll. “Yeah, sure, amazing in a crusty bar.”

Van shook his head, smiling down at me. “I would’ve loved to see that. Laughs and all.”

“But trust me, it was far from glamorous.” I shot back, grinning.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I would’ve still been there, front row, cheering you on.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words.

“I remember when she got her first tattoo hidden from her mom and couldn’t wear tank tops or anything that showed her arms for three whole years!”

Van’s eyes widened as he turned to me, a grin spreading across his face. “Wait, wait. You really hid your tattoo from your mum for three years? That’s dedication.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, well, I was seventeen and thought I was so rebellious. Got a tattoo on my shoulder, and my mum would’ve killed me if she found out.”

Emily chimed in with a laugh. “She wore long sleeves, jackets, scarves, you name it—even in the middle of summer. I have no idea how you survived that, (Y/N).”

Van chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet she figured it out eventually, didn’t she?”

I nodded, smiling at the memory. “Oh, she did. Three years later, I finally worked up the courage to tell her, and she just stared at me and said, ��I’ve known this whole time.’”

Van burst out laughing. “Of course she knew. She’s your mum. They always know.”

I leaned into him, my cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, but it felt good to laugh about it now. “Well, at least I didn’t get grounded for life.”

He grinned down at me, still amused. “I can’t believe you went to all that trouble for a tattoo. You’ve got to show me which one it was later.”

I smirked. “Oh, trust me, you’ve seen it plenty of times. You just didn’t know the backstory.”

“Hey…Since we’re talking about trouble..” Em said grinning.

“Oh God, what is it now?” I let out a cry, already feeling defeated.

“I remember damn well…When (Y/N) got her breasts pierced and passed out in my mom’s car.”

Van nearly choked on his drink, eyes wide with surprise as he looked between Emily and me. “Wait, what?” he said, clearly trying to stifle his laughter. “You got your—”

“Emily, I swear to God,” I interrupted, wiping at my eyes as I laughed so hard I started crying. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Emily just grinned, completely unapologetic. “Because it’s hilarious! You passed out in my mum’s car. My mum, (Y/N)! I’m pretty sure she was heading to church and I had to make her come pick us up at that weird tattoo place!” She paused to breathe “And then 5 minutes into the car, you turned completely pale, we were panicking! Thought we’d have to show your tits to the doctor!”

Van finally lost it, shaking with laughter. “Oh my God, love, you really went all out with that one, huh?”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “It was a bad decision, okay? And I’d really appreciate it if we could all forget about it forever.”

Van wrapped an arm around me, still laughing but trying to soothe me at the same time. “Nah, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that now,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But don’t worry, I’m not judging. Just… picturing it is priceless.”

Emily patted my back. “Hey, you survived, and now you’ve got a great story to tell your kids someday.”

I groaned louder, playfully shoving her away. “I’m never telling anyone about this ever again.”

But despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop embarrassing you now,” she said with a smirk, giving us a bit of space. “Enjoy your party, Irmã.”

“Thank you, Emy.” I said as I leaned back to look at Van, pressing our foreheads together.

“Hey, you.”

Van smiled softly, his eyes flicking between mine as our foreheads touched. “Hi,” he whispered back, his breath warm against my lips.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the moment settle around us. It was rare for everything to feel this simple and right. “I’m really glad you’re here, I’m sorry if it’s been a lot.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Besides, I kinda like meeting all the people who helped make you, you.”

I chuckled softly. “Yeah? Even with Emily embarrassing me every five seconds?”

He grinned. “Especially because of that. I love you (Y/N), all of you. I’m the luckiest man ever for getting to live all of this.”

I laughed softly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “You always have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Only with you, love,” he said, leaning in to press his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I mean it. There’s no one else I’d want by my side through all this madness.”

I closed my eyes, letting the moment settle between us. “I love you too, Van,” I whispered, my hand brushing the side of his face. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

We stood there, the party continuing around us, but it felt like we were in our own little bubble—just us, and the weight of everything we felt for each other.

And in that moment, everything felt perfect—yet something inside me shifted.

As the final weeks of the tour began to settle in, Van had asked me multiple times to “spend some time with him” in his apartment. Each time, I brushed off the question, not ready to take that step.

But now, this felt as right as anything ever could.

“Babe.”

“Hm?” he replied, looking at me with curiosity.

“Let’s move in together.”

“What?”

“I mean it, Van I’ll move in with you.”

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and joy lighting up his face. “Really? Are you serious?”

I nodded, feeling my heart race. “Yeah, I am. It just feels right, you know? I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Van’s grin spread across his face, transforming his features. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I’ve been thinking about it so much, but I didn’t want to push you.”

I chuckled, warmth flooding my chest at his honesty. “Well, consider yourself pushed! I’m all in.”

He stepped closer, wrapping me in his arms and lifting me off the ground. “This is fucking perfect. I had no idea how I would live without you after tour. And now we are having our own place, love.”

“Yeah, and we can decorate it however we like,” I said, my mind racing with possibilities. “Goodbye fairy Barbies and pink sheets.”

He feigned a gasp, putting a hand to his heart. “What a tragedy! How will I ever survive without those?”

I laughed, nudging him playfully. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. You’ll learn to love my chaotic style.”

He chuckled, pulling back to look at me. “I’m all for it. Just promise you won’t take over the whole wardrobe. I need at least a few shirts left!”

“Only a few?” I teased. “I’ll try to leave you some space, but no promises.”

“Sounds like a fair compromise,” he said, his gaze softening. He leaned in and kissed me gently, our lips moving together like they were made to fit.

As we pulled apart, I felt a surge of exhilaration. This was it—our next adventure together, and I was ready for every moment of it.

[vangoddamn]

Helping hand

It was one of those stories, where he loves her and she does back, but they never can tell one another. They were friends of friends, always bumping into each other at social occasions and usually ending up together smoking a joint in the corner of the room. It was stupid really, anyone who paid attention long enough could tell their attraction, except them.

On this particular Saturday night, they both had ended up at the same party. Y/n happily dancing away, her drunken state not minding that she was flashing nearly the whole room as she twirled. Of course, she was too drunk to notice, that Van stood, bottle in hand chatting to Benji. Absent to the conversation, more interested in watching y/n dance in the red neon light, worrying that she was getting a little too close to some of the guys dancing next to her. 

He noticed the way her cheeks were rosy, with adrenaline mixed with alcohol. He so desperately wanted to be the friend that was dancing with her too, the person she’d occasionally stumble on to regain her balance. He imagined what it would be like to carry her home on a night like tonight, guided home to their shared apartment in his head by the street lamps. How he would laugh at the way she started to meow when she saw a cat and holding her tight so she wouldn’t go cold. It was so clear, yet so far away in his head. A sudden dryness took over his throat as he filled up with nerves even thinking about it, downing the bottle in his hand.

“Why are you so thirsty?” Benji whispered into his ear, chuckling softly to himself already knowing the answer. With his comment, Vans cheeks flushed pink as he smiled shyly to his band mate.

“Ya know, wanna catch up with yous like” He lied, knowing full well it had shown. Benji just patted his back, leaving him alone to mull over his messy thoughts.

Before he knew it he was alone, scanning the room for y/n once more. To his uneasy surprise, she'd gone and he felt his stomach sink in disappointment. He found her calming to watch and it filled him with happiness seeing her have a good time. That was until she made herself known to him.

"Why do you look so sad?" Her words were slurred and dragged from her lips into his ear. She had slung her arms around his neck and placed her forehead to his.

"What, Nah I'm not sad love." He chirped up, suddenly a wide grin on his face from being so close to her. His hands went to her waist, steadying her tipsy frame. He didn’t realize it but that had sent tingles through her body, making her an inch more sober with his touch.

"Nope. You definitely were..." She carried on, popping her p's a worried look on her face forming.

"Come on lass you're well drunk" He tried to convince her but it would take a lot more than that.

"Vaaaaaan, tell me!" She whined staring deep into his eyes trying to convince him. "I promise I can help" She smiled like a child.

"Look, y/n I can promise you even if I was sad, you wouldn't be able to help" Between his words there was sorrow, thinking his love was truly unrequited. She squinted her eyes, looking at suspiciously, trying to suss him out.

She placed a kiss to his cheek and pulled him into her body, tightly hugging him so that their body’s couldn’t be closer if she had tried. She wanted to take his hand, lead him down the streets of their city and dance to the sound of sirens with him. She wanted to get lost in his scent and drown with his touch. If she was sober those thoughts may have seemed outrageous, if she wasn’t quite as drunk as she was she’d have settled for a shared joint. But she was needy and she was needy for him.

He pulled away from her, noticing the way her eyes glistened in a hazy sort of glow. She was smaller than him, even in her black docs, so she stood on her tip toes to gain height. She wanted to be level with him, to try tell him what she wanted, to say she wanted him. With her arms still around his neck, her fingers played with the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. 

“Am I helping now?” She asked again, holding back a smile even though she was serious. 

“y/n..” He drew her name out frustratedly. He didn’t really know what to say or do in that moment, he never thought he’d even be in that situation.

She placed a kiss to the other cheek, soft once more. Still he said nothing, just swallowing the lump in his throught. She was still determined though, she wanted him, she wanted him to do something, so she tried again. This time a kiss was placed to the corner of his mouth, testing the waters, not completely there. She lingered before pulling away and standing flat on her feet, feeling defeated and deflated at her obvious rejection. That was until he took her face in his hands with a confused look painted on his face.

“Yes, you are..” He whispered before pulling you into his soft lips.

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 1)

Summary: "He hadn't expected this. Somehow he hadn't quite comprehended what happened. What he had done. What it would mean. What the consequences were. Now it hit him in full force, right in the gut."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 1 of 10

Y/N

She should have known it. Should have felt it. Should have seen how he behaved differently. Maybe then she could have braced herself, could have built a wall around her. But she didn't see it. Didn't want to see it. Didn't want to acknowledge that Van came back differently from his last tour. Didn't want to recognise that he showed less affection. Didn't want to notice that he withdrew himself from her presence more and more. She justified his behaviour with tiredness, after all, the last tour was one of the longest Catfish had done for a while. And it's been so long since they have seen each other, touched each other, that maybe they just needed to learn to be with each other again. That's how she explained it to herself whenever she was lying next to him, unable to sleep because he had turned his back towards her.

He had been home for a couple of weeks and would be heading off again quite soon. It was the third week of him being back and Y/N was sitting on the couch, pondering what to cook for dinner. She wanted to prepare a nice meal, wanted to cook his favourite, wanted to show him how much she loved him still. Wanted to fight to get his affection back.

It was that exact day, that Van came into the lounge, dragging a chair from the dining table and placing it directly in front of her. His face was serious and she frowned when he sat down, eyes fixated on his hands instead of her. Somehow she knew that whatever was coming, wasn't good news. She drew her legs up into her chest, slung her arms around them, and rested her chin on one knee. Her eyes on Van. "Everything ok?" She asked. He was clenching his jaw, sighed, and then finally looked up at her "I don't think this works anymore."

The words hit her, right in the gut. She clenched her arms tighter around her legs but remained motionless, like a deer caught in the headlights. There was silence for a moment. She didn't know what to say or how to act. Van averted his eyes from her, looked out the window instead. "I don't think this has been working for a while now, actually." She didn't want to hear it, wanted him to stop talking, but the shock turned her mute. All she managed was to clench her jaw. He sighed "I think it wouldn't be fair to keep this going any longer. For the both of us. The sooner we get over this, the sooner we can move on, yeah?" It didn't make sense. None of it did. She loved him and he was supposed to love her back. Why was he saying those things?

But she couldn't talk, didn't dare to talk. She feared if she opened her mouth, all that would come out would be wailing sounds. So she kept it shut, just stared at him. Trying to keep her breathing regular. Van was clearly frustrated with her lack of response because he kept running his hand through his hair. He couldn't keep his eyes on her for long. He noticed that he wouldn't be getting an answer, so he stood up from his chair, grasped the back of it and began dragging it back to the dining table. After he returned it to its respective place, he reappeared in front of her, this time standing. Towering.  She didn't look up to meet his eyes, kept her them straight, staring right at his crotch. "I'm gonna stay at Larry's for the next couple days 'til tour starts again. Means you have about a month to move out before I'm back." He waited for a response, but when he didn't get one he just left the room.

She could hear him shuffling around upstairs. She concentrated on the noise he made, imagined him rummaging around their bedroom. Distracting herself from the tsunami of emotions that threatened to surface at any moment. He must have packed beforehand because he couldn't have prepared the suitcase for tour and the backpack in that little bit of time. Y/N was still staring straight ahead when he peeked at her one last time before closing the front door of their house and leaving without saying goodbye.

She waited three more minutes to make sure he was gone and couldn't hear her, before she broke down. Sobs were overtaking her body. Tears streaming down her face. She yowled and screamed, didn't care about how she looked or sounded or what the neighbours would think. She wanted to thrash around, wanted to destroy things, but her body felt numb, like she had been paralised. It made her even angrier. She cried until she was so tired that she just collapsed onto the couch, incapable to sleep in their bed because it smelled too much like him.

——— A month later

Van

He was tired. He almost fell asleep on the car ride to his house. When he unlocked the front door to his home however, he suddenly became alert again.

Something was off. He shoved his luggage through the door and placed it next to the wall before closing it and making his way to the lounge. He furrowed his brows. Nothing was out of place. On the contrary. Everything was clean and tidy. The couch stood where it always stood, the coffee table was empty and clean. The rug looked clean and vacuumed. His eyes glanced to the bookshelf. Empty. Except for his records. That's when he felt his heart skip a beat. He went to the dining room. Clean and neat. No papers strewn about like he was used to. No forgotten half-empty tea mugs. 

He stopped in his tracks and listened. The house was quiet.

He quickly stomped up the stairs and tore open the bedroom door. No clothes on the floor. No crumpled bedsheets. All clean and tidy. The bedsheets were fresh. 

He opened the wardrobe. Empty. Except for some of the clothes he didn't pack for tour. He blinked. Panic began rising in him.

He went into the bathroom. Clean.

Opened the mirror cabinet. Nothing. 

She left nothing behind. 

His breathing began to pick up. 

He trampled down the stairs again and into the kitchen. Her favourite cereals, gone. Her camomile tea, gone. The toast she always bought, gone. Even her ice cream was gone from the freezer. There was no trace of her. She had cleansed herself from this house. 

It's as if she had never lived there.

Van had to grab onto the kitchen counter to steady himself. There was pain spreading in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe right.

He hadn't expected this. Somehow he hadn't quite comprehended what happened. What he had done. What it would mean. What the consequences were. Now it hit him in full force, right in the gut. He opened the kitchen cabinet where they stored all their booze and almost sobbed when he saw that even her favourite gin had vanished. He took the fullest bottle of rum, opened it and took several swigs to numb that pain in his chest. It helped.

Together with the bottle he went back to the hallway -wanting to grab his luggage- when he saw the solitary key in the key bowl. He stopped dead in his tracks again. She had left the key. She had left the fucking key. He had to remind himself to breathe. She had just left it there. No note. No trace of her presence. Not even a Fuck you, Van. There was no evidence she ever existed in this house.

He clenched his jaw. He decided he was angry now and took another swig from the bottle. 

He could have dealt with a destroyed living room. Could have dealt with buying new plates and glasses because she would have thrown them around the kitchen. He could have dealt with the traces of her anger. But he was unable to deal with this. Whatever this was. Her deleting herself from his life. She fucking cleaned the place before she left. Fucking cleaned everything when she was supposed to wreck it.

Why was there no trace of anger? Why was there no proof of how hurt she was? Why was there no proof of her?

Van trudged up the stairs again and into the bedroom. His luggage forgotten. He sat down on the bed. Her side of the bed. He looked into the drawer of her bedside table, just for good measure. Of course, it too, was empty. He kicked his shoes off, put the bottle on the table and swung his legs onto the bed, letting his head crash into her pillow. It smelled like laundry detergent. Nothing else. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but couldn't. Instead he sat up and took another swig of rum.

1/10 

Part 2

[homesickwhispers]

let me love you.

you decide to try something different for your boyfriend and buy yourself a delicate pair of pink lingerie to see his reaction.

warning: NSFW content

ps: this is prob my fav one i’ve written so far :,) hope you like it 💕

Van and I were lying on the backstage couch, just enjoying each other’s company and smoking.

My head was on his lap, as I stared at the blue sky above us. The atmosphere thick with a relaxed vibe, only the sound of our breaths, until he broke the silence.

“Last night was amazing,” he said, his eyes glimmering with a hint of mischief.

“I know, right?” I replied, reaching for his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to it. “You were amazing.”

“So were you.”

The silence settled again, and I could tell we both wanted to say something.

“I still can’t believe I was your first,” he said, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Van, please” I said covering my face with my hands. “That’s embarrassing as hell,”

“No, it’s not. I mean, look at you…” He paused, his gaze softening as he took me in. “You’re incredible, and I’m honored to have been your first. I just can’t believe anyone else didn’t do that before… I mean, are Brazilians blind or something?”

I let out a laugh, the tension easing between us. “I don’t know about that. I’m just not their type. They like hot girls with curves and tans, and I look like I haven’t seen the sun for at least five years.”

Van shook his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “They’re clearly missing out. You’re stunning just the way you are. And I’m pretty sure you’d set their standards way too high if they ever got to know you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “You’re out of my league yourself, Mr. Van. Don’t judge the poor Brazilian boys. I still can’t believe I pulled you.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Trust me, I’m the lucky one here. You’ve got this magnetic energy that just draws me in. It’s impossible not to notice you.”

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “Maybe I should start charging for my charm.”

“Please don’t,” he replied, leaning closer. “I can’t afford you.”Van’s gaze softened as he spoke, “I’m glad you’re my girl.”

My heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through me.

“You make everything better. I didn’t realize how much I needed this—us—until you came along.”

I smiled, feeling a rush of happiness at his honesty. “I feel the same way. It’s like everything just clicked into place when we got together.”

In that moment, surrounded by the casual chaos of the backstage, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging.

That same night, before we headed back to the hotel, I decided to do something different. Something bold. Something I’d never done before.

I went shopping while the guys were out at the pub, and bought myself a pink sleeping dress with a matching lace set—soft, delicate, and extremely different from the black clothes I usually wear.

To be honest, I don’t think Van has ever seen me in pink. And the thought of doing something like this for his eyes only, made my heart flutter. Wearing a feminine, sexy set just for the man of my dreams seemed like something I could pull off. Especially with the way he treated me. Like I was the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on. Maybe tonight I’d let myself believe it.

As I stood in the bathroom after my shower, I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Van had gotten back from the pub, and was waiting for me just outside the door.

I had taken extra care with everything: a special perfume that clung to my skin, lotion on every inch of my body, the dress slipping over me like a second skin.

The dress…The soft pink fabric was the most delicate thing that’s ever been on my body. It felt like it was not even there.

And of course, it was see-through enough to reveal the intricate lace underneath, the kind of clothing I had never really worn before, not with anyone else.

I looked at my reflection, my tattooed arms and legs standing out against the delicate fabric. I felt exposed, vulnerable in a way that wasn’t just about the clothes. This was me, laying it all bare for him.

It’s so crazy to believe that even when I was standing on the sexiest pair of lingerie, in my eyes I would always be the weird girl. The girl that no one wanted to go on dates with. The one that never had a boyfriend. The one that was an insult for boys to even be associated with.

I knew Van would love me no matter what people thought of me, no matter what I wore—hell, he’d probably say I looked great in a trash bag. But something about tonight felt different. It felt intimate. Personal. It was my first time being someone’s girlfriend. And I never wanted to get something right so badly as I want to with Van.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my fingers twitching nervously at the hem of the lace dress. The soft pink fabric clung to my body, revealing more than I was used to, highlighting the ink that stretched over my arms and legs. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it just sat there, stubborn, as my mind spiraled with doubt.

He had always looked at me like I was enough. But now, standing in this delicate dress, with my body bare to the world, I felt exposed in a way I hadn’t before. Vulnerable. It wasn’t just the dress—it was the act of letting him see this softer side of me. The side I had always kept hidden beneath layers of armor.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous energy swirling in my chest. Then with one final glance at the mirror, I grabbed the door handle, my hand trembling slightly as I turned it.

Van was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of the storm of emotions racing through me.

“Hey,” I said softly, my voice catching a little in my throat.

The room felt still and quiet, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air. Van looked up from where he was sitting on the bed, his eyes landing on me, and for a moment, neither of us said a word.

“What?” I said nervously, trying to break the silence.

Van blinked, his lips parting slightly before a slow smile spread across his face. “Sorry… I just—wow. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

My breath caught in my throat. I had never seen this look in his eyes before, a mix of desire and awe and something else, something deeper. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t find the words to reply. The words felt foreign to me. They felt like they were something I had no idea how to use.

He finally stood, taking long, slow steps toward me. His eyes devoured me, my face, the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist.

“I don’t know where to look,” he breathed. “You’re...”

“I know it’s a lot.” I shifted on my feet. “The lingerie. The dress. I just...I want this to be special.”

“It’s perfect. You look beautiful. A fucking Goddess” He came to a stop just in front of me. “Can I touch you?”

I nodded, the nervousness in my throat making it hard to speak.

His hands slid under the thin fabric of my dress, caressing the skin of my hips, and I let out a soft sigh, feeling completely at ease in his touch. They roamed over my skin with such care that I couldn’t help but feel more exposed than ever, but not in a way that scared me. It felt right — like he was seeing all of me, the parts I usually kept hidden, and he still wanted me.

His fingers played at the hem of my lace set, and I felt my body respond, a rush of warmth spreading through me. I could barely breathe, my skin sensitive under every touch.

“I’ve never worn this before,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t have the words to explain to him how much I had wanted him, how much he had come to mean to me. “I thought I’d wear it for you tonight.”

The last few feet between us seemed to disappear, his chest pressing up against mine, his hands sliding down my arms to rest at my hips. “I’m never gonna forget this.” He leaned forward, brushing his mouth against mine in a gentle kiss and then resting against his head against my neck.

We just stood there for a whole minute, holding each other. I loved how peaceful everything was with him. I didn’t felt the need to rush.

Van’s voice was soft, his breath warm against my hair. “I’ve always liked your tattoos, you know?” he murmured, his hands gently running up my arms, fingertips tracing the outlines of ink. “I wish you didn’t cover them up so much.”

His words made my heart skip a beat. I had always been so self-conscious about my tattoos, feeling like they were a part of me that didn’t fit the person I wanted to be seen as—strong, professional, put together. But hearing him say that, feeling the warmth in his voice as he traced the designs on my skin, made me see them differently, just for a moment.

“I’m glad,” I whispered, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “No one will be seeing them besides you anyway.”

Van’s smile widened at my words, and he leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing against my ear. “I like that idea.” he said, his voice low and teasing

“You’re the fucking sun, baby,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “I can’t look away from you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I joked finally starting to feel lighter.

I could feel him laughing, his chest vibrating against mine. “Glad you think so.”

He stepped back to look at me again “You’re killing me, looking like that. You look good enough to fucking eat.”

My cheeks flushed red as I stared at him, the words falling from my lips before I could even think. “I was hoping you’d help me with that.”

When he reached my face, he leaned forward, his nose brushing against the crook of my neck, inhaling deep.

“Fuck” he whispered. “And you smell so good too.”

I looked down at him, my heart beating fast. “I’m just wearing perfume.”

Van looked up at me with those dark eyes, that deep intensity burning in them like a hot flame. “Ella, it’s not just the perfume. You smell like that all the time.”

I blinked at him, my head reeling. “Really?”

“Every time I get close to you.” His hand slid from my waist to cup my butt. “Every time we kiss, every time I’m near you, you always smell so fucking delicious. It’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.”

He leaned forward and ran his tongue up the side of my neck, making my nipples harden into tight peaks.

“It’s like vanilla and caramel. It makes me want to bury myself in you and taste you everywhere.”

My body went limp at his words, desire pulsing through me like a wild current of electricity. “Van...” I whispered.

He drew back and looked at me, his gaze hot, heavy lidded, full of lust and desire. “Can I see what’s underneath?”

My cheeks flushed and I nodded.

Van leaned forward and slid his fingers under the straps of my dress, tugging them down over my shoulders until the fabric dropped to my waist. I held my breath as he stared at me in my matching bra, the pink fabric stretched over my breasts, my nipples pressing out against the thin lace.

“Holy shit,” he repeated. “You look fucking gorgeous.” He pulled my body into his lap, his hands stroking up and down my back. “How do you do this to me? How do you make me feel this way?”

“Make you feel what way?”

His mouth found mine, his lips brushing over mine, then sliding down to my throat. “Like I could come apart in your hands. Like you’re the only thing that exists.”

I let him take my hands and lead me to the bed, not resisting when he pushed me down gently on the sheets and leaned over me, his mouth kissing the curve of my shoulder.

“Baby…” I sighed softly, still a bit nervous.

“Shhh, baby,” he whispered, his mouth trailing over my skin. “Let me love you.”

Let me love you

These words were all I needed to just relax, to embrace the moment and give myself fully to it.

I arched up to meet him, the silk of my dress still hanging at my waist sliding over the lace of my underwear. His erection was hard against me, rubbing back and forth in a way that had me moaning softly. I couldn’t help it.

I loved how good he made me feel. It was like I was the only woman in the world, like nothing else mattered but me.

He was still smiling when he broke away from the kiss.

He slid a hand into my hair, tilting my head up to him. “You look amazing,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see you in something pretty, delicate. The tattoos make it even more sexy.”

Now his hands were running over me, squeezing and caressing my skin. I moaned at the feeling, my whole body lit on fire, burning for him, from the inside out. I knew he liked when I was vocal about how good he was making me feel.

I cried in pleasure when his finger finally touched my sex.

“You’re so wet for me.” His voice was thick with desire. “You always get like this when you see me?”

I nodded, unable to speak, unable to do anything except watch him as he slipped a finger inside of me, my thighs trembling at the pressure. “You’re such a dirty girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the outside of my pussy as he pumped his finger in and out of me.

“Do you like to be a little dirty? To play with your pussy and pretend it was me touching you?”

I gasped, his fingers hitting a spot inside of me that sent sparks through my body. “Yes,” I whimpered, my head falling back.

“You pretend like this is me in you, filling you, claiming you?”

“Yes,” I moaned, the pleasure building inside of me.

His mouth was a hungry thing on my breasts, sucking, licking, kissing. “Look at me, princess,” he growled, his eyes looking up at mine.

“I can’t...” I said embarrassed

“Fuck,” he muttered, then pushed me back and threw me down on the bed. “I want to eat you out with this lingerie still on. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” I said, my eyes wide. I had never been so bold with anyone before.

He groaned as he spread my legs apart. “Look at you. Beautiful Ella, all spread out for me. Your sweet pussy begging for my cock.”

“Van...”

I wanted to give him my body. My heart. My soul. I wanted him to fuck me and make me his. I wanted him to have every part of me.

And I wanted it now.

“Van,” I pleaded. “Please, just give me your cock. Please, please.”

“Shh, princess.” His mouth moved down the front of me, his tongue licking through the slick heat between my legs. “I know, baby. I know.”

He pressed a kiss to my clit and my entire body trembled, my legs shaking. “That’s so good. So good.”

His tongue swirled over my clit. “Sweet, innocent little thing, so fucking delicious. You know you taste like honey?”

“What?” My voice sounded breathless, desperate.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Like the sweetest, thickest honey I’ve ever had.”

“Fuck.” My entire body trembled. I didn’t have time to wonder if what he said was true or not. All I could do was feel.

He lapped at my pussy like a hungry animal. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from eating this sweet, pretty cunt.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed. My heart was pounding in my chest, my body trembling from his touch. “Eat it, Van. Eat me.”

“You’re such a good girl.” He sucked my clit into his mouth and my entire body exploded.

I cried out at the touch of his mouth, at the warmth of him against my clit.

“Tell me how you like it” he said, breathing hard against my pussy.

I didn’t answer him, too overwhelmed by the sensation of him. But it didn’t matter. He already knew exactly what to do to me.

I loved when he did this to me. He had a way with his mouth that made me crazy, like I could never get enough of him.

His eyes met mine as my pleasure tore through me. His fingers dug into my skin as he held me down, his tongue dragging through my slick flesh.

It was too much. It was too good.

His name fell from my lips in a scream. “Van. Van. Van.”

When my pleasure had ebbed, his eyes locked onto mine and he kissed me. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was rough and raw, full of hunger and lust. His tongue plunged into my mouth and he tasted like me, like sex and desire and sin.

His lips moved away from mine, kissing down my neck. “My princess,” he murmured. “My sweet, beautiful princess.

He hugged me tight against him, his cock still hard and dripping on my thigh.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked, running a hand over my breast. “Because I really don’t want to use anything tonight.”

“I’m on the pill,” I said, my voice husky.

“Thank God.” Van reached down and slid a hand up my thigh, pulling my underwear to one side.

Then his erection was inside me, stretching me wide. I groaned, arching my back to take him deeper, but he grabbed my hips and held me still.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Let me do it.”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck as he began to move. His thrusts were slow and deep, making my muscles clench tight around him.

My thighs shook with the force of it all, my breasts bouncing in my lace bra, my core tightening around him.

I felt like I was on fire. My entire body was burning up, my skin hot from his kisses, my pussy so tender and sore from his touch.

“Yes,” I cried out, my hips jerking up to meet his thrust.

“Your pussy is like a glove, Ella. It’s like it was made for my dick. Fuck, it feels so good.”

Van groaned, his hands sliding up under my dress to grab my ass. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Come for me, baby.”

“Please,” I begged. “Fill me up. Make me yours.”

His eyes met mine, filled with lust. “Forever and always, princess.”

And then, he fucked me through my orgasm, his cock slamming into me until I screamed his name, my pussy clamping down around him, milking him of every drop.

His come spilled deep inside me, his hands digging into my skin as he shook above me, his mouth sucking down kisses over my face.

When it was all over, we lay there in a tangled heap on the bed. His lips pressed into my neck, his arms holding me tight.

“You’re incredible, Ella,” he whispered against my neck. “I’m so fucking lucky to have you in my life.”

He was still inside me. I loved how that felt.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin.

“For what?” My voice was soft, exhausted.

“For letting me have you.” His hands drifted down my body, his fingertips dancing over the marks he’d left. “You’re so perfect.”

“Did you like it?” I say

Van blinked, finally snapping out of whatever daze he was in. “Like it?” He let out a low chuckle, his eyes sweeping over me again. “Ella, you were… unbelievable.”

I could feel the heat rising to my face, but instead of dwelling on it, I tried to play it off with a laugh, the nervous energy bubbling up. “I just thought, it was kind of… a lot. I’m pretty sure you could see it from space.”

Van grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I wouldn’t mind letting everyone in space know you’re mine.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small laugh escaped my lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Seriously though,” he said, closing the distance between us and gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “you’re stunning. I mean, you always are, but this… it was something else.”

I laughed again, the tension loosening just a little. “Well, good. Because I was about two seconds away from chickening out and showing up in my usual hoodie.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my temple. “You’d look hot in that too.”

I nudged him lightly, finally letting myself relax a bit. “Okay, okay, Mr. Smooth Talker. Keep it coming.”

Van’s hand trailed down my arm, his touch gentle but steady, as he leaned back to take me in again. “I’m being serious, Ella,” he breathed, his eyes holding mine. “This? It’s hot as fuck. It’s incredible. But it doesn’t change what you are to me. You could be wearing anything—or nothing at all—and it still wouldn’t change it.” He pulled me back into him, his arms wrapping around me, holding me close. “You’re so much more than your body to me,” he whispered, his lips tracing over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

In that moment I just wanted to cry, the nervousness easing into something warmer, more playful. Van always knew how to make everything better. “Good to know, Mrs Rockstar. Next time, I’ll just wear the invisible outfit.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’ll definitely be looking forward to that.” He said laying on my bare chest, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being you, El.”

“Thank you for loving me” I said, with the most honest smile I’d ever put on, hoping this was what forever looked like.

[homesickwhispers]

just wrote the sweetest story ever and the Parasites in me want me to add a smut scene in it girl NO..I need to be strong and resist cuz its all so wholesome ….😮‍💨

[homesickwhispers]

hotel. (part 2.)

(Van X Reader.)

After your bus breaks down on the road forcing you and Van to share a room, you two find yourselves exploring the limits of your relationship.

warning: NSFW content

for the beautiful anon who asked and everyone else who read Part 1. 💜🫶 this one is not so smutty or anything I just wanted to focus more on the anticipation than anything tbh but I hope you like it anyway! :)

love to all Xx

“I’ve never done this before, you know,” I said, my voice soft but steady.

Van tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Done what?” he asked, leaning in a little closer, his focus entirely on me.

“What we just did,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up. There was a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth, but also a wave of vulnerability that made me nervous.

He looked at me, his expression gentle, as if he was trying to process my words. “You mean you’ve never made out with someone?”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Yeah, I guess not. Just a quick kiss here and there.” The admission felt raw, almost foreign as I laid it all out there.

Van’s gaze softened, and I could see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Wow,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, feeling exposed yet relieved. “I mean, I’ve had my share of crushes, but nothing serious. It’s just… I’ve always been so focused on my career, you know? I’ve never really let anyone in. Not like this.”

His hand found mine, fingers intertwining, a gesture so simple yet profoundly reassuring. “I’m honored I get to be your first, then,” he said, a playful smile creeping onto his lips. “And I promise, it only gets better from here.”

I had never felt this kind of intimacy with anyone, and it was intoxicating.

Van leaned closer and kept kissing me.

There was no need for words at this point. There was just us.

His lips explored my face with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. His focus wasn’t just on my mouth; he brushed his lips against my cheeks, lingered at the spot behind my ear, something no one had ever done to me before.

When he reached my collarbone, I felt breathless, as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of us in that moment.

I could hardly process the sensations overwhelming me, but one thought cut through the haze: I wanted more.

“You make this feel so good,” I managed to say, my voice a soft whisper, trembling with vulnerability and desire.

He paused, lifting his head slightly to meet my gaze, his eyes darkened with emotion. “You’re the one making it so easy,” he replied, his tone sincere, yet playful. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

The way he looked at me, with that mix of confidence and tenderness, made my heart race all over again. “How can I not?” I breathed, my fingers threading through his hair as I pulled him closer, craving his warmth.

“Let me show you just how good it can be,” he said, his voice low and inviting, sending another wave of warmth coursing through me.

I nodded, my breath hitching as he leaned in again, his kisses growing more fervent. I melted into him, losing myself in the way his lips moved against my skin, each kiss igniting a fire within me. I could feel the weight of his hands on my hips, anchoring me as if I might float away.

“(Y/N)?,” he gasped softly as he returned to my neck, kissing a trail back up to my jaw.

“Yeah?” I murmured, his lips barely brushing against my skin, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Let’s try something a bit different, okay?” he said softly, his breath still coming in pants, his eyes dark with desire.

I nodded eagerly, my pulse racing in anticipation.

“I’m gonna kiss your neck now,” he whispered, and a shiver of pleasure coursed through me at his words.

“Oh,” I gasped as his lips moved to my throat, his mouth sending waves of warmth through me. “Oh god, that feels good.”

“Does it?” he murmured, nipping at my skin.

“Yes”,” I panted.

“I like seeing you like this,” Van said, his voice filled with affection as he gazed up at me. “I like making you feel good.”

His words only made me feel better, his affection and care making everything easier. He kept kissing my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that was driving me wild.

I felt my breathing grow more ragged, my legs trembling in anticipation of what might come next.

He slowly made his way lower, trailing kisses across my collarbone, and I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped me as he reached the curve of my breast.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped again, my heart pounding wildly.

“Can we take this off?” he asked, his hands eagerly resting at the hem of my tank top, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. Kissing while fully clothed was one thing, but removing this barrier felt like stepping into uncharted territory, making me acutely aware of how vulnerable I was in this moment.

“I… I…” I stammered, unsure how to articulate the mix of desire and apprehension swirling inside me.

“It’s okay if not,” he reassured me, his voice gentle and steady. “I can work my way around it.” He let go of my shirt, his hands patting my hips softly, as if to ground me.

“No, no, it’s okay,” I said quickly, surprising myself with my own confidence. “I trust you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, and I could see the genuine warmth behind his smile. “You sure?”

I nodded, feeling a rush of determination. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

With that, he slowly lifted the hem of my tank top, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers through me. Every inch of skin he revealed felt like a new secret shared between us, a silent agreement that we were ready to explore this together.

He gently pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it aside, and I felt a rush of vulnerability wash over me as the cool air brushed against my skin. I could see the appreciation in his eyes as he took in the sight of me, a mix of admiration and desire that made my heart race.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. The sincerity in his words made my cheeks flush even more, and I found myself looking away, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

“Stop,” I whispered, trying to fight the warmth spreading through me.

“What?” He grinned, tilting his head to catch my eye again. “I’m just telling the truth.”

I bit my lip, shaking my head lightly. “You’re making me blush,” I admitted, though I could feel my heart fluttering at how easy he made it all feel, even in the midst of such intimacy.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” he teased, brushing his thumb across my cheek softly, as if to emphasize the blush he’d caused. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

I met his gaze, feeling the heat between us start to rise again, the playful banter turning into something deeper. “I don’t know, maybe it is,” I teased back, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

Van chuckled, leaning closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Well, I think it’s pretty cute.”

I knew Van was chitchatting to help me feel less nervous, and, to be honest, it was working. His light teasing and easy conversation soothed the butterflies in my stomach.

His hands returned to my hips, guiding me back against him, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping me in comfort. “Just relax,” he whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against my collarbone. “We’ll take our time.”

He kept teasing my neck with his lips, his breath warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but giggle, the sensation sending shivers through me.

“What?” he asked, pausing for a moment, his voice low and teasing.

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “I’m just thinking about how good this feels, and you’re tickling me a bit”

Van smirked, his hands still resting on my hips. “Yeah? Wait till you see what else we can do together,” he said, his voice full of promise.

I playfully rolled my eyes but felt a wave of warmth rush through me at his words. “Stop teasing,” I muttered, though my smile didn’t fade. “I’m just saying that because… well, I’ve never had anyone touch me like this. It was always just a quick, cold kiss on my lips, like it didn’t mean anything. But this… it’s like you’re awakening every part of my body.”

Van’s expression softened as he pulled back slightly to look at me, his teasing giving way to something gentler. His hand slid up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as he met my gaze. “I’m glad I get to be the one to do that for you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt my heart swell at his words, a rush of warmth and affection flooding me. “You’re making me feel things I didn’t even know I could feel,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“You deserve it,” he replied, his lips brushing mine softly, the kiss a quiet reassurance that he was taking his time with me, that this was about more than just the physical.

Van’s hands slid slowly from my hips, tracing the outline of my sides before stopping just beneath the fabric of my bra. His fingers were gentle, teasing, and I couldn’t help the slow sigh that escaped my lips as he touched me.

“Come on, Van…” I whispered, a mix of anticipation and a playful warning.

Van’s fingers found the clasp of my bra, and just before he moved further, he paused, his voice gentle, filled with care. “Can I?”

I hesitated for a heartbeat, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves, but his steady gaze reassured me. “Yeah,” I answered softly, a little self-conscious but still giving him the green light.

His touch was careful, deliberate, and the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, melted away the last of my nerves. The barrier slipped away, and I felt a wave of vulnerability mixed with trust.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine again, making sure.

I nodded, my heart thumping a little louder in my chest. “I’m okay.”

As Van pulled my top away, the cool air in the room hit my bare chest, and I couldn’t help but shiver instinctively.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. “You’re cold, aren’t you? I think the remote’s here somewhere.” He scrambled a little, his hand fumbling around until he found the AC remote and switched it off.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft, still filled with apology.

I nodded, feeling a little more at ease as the cool breeze disappeared. “Yeah, better. Don’t worry about it,” I murmured, trying to hide my smile at how thoughtful he was. It was those little things that made this all feel… safe.Like I could really give in to him.

Without realizing it, I had crossed my arms over my chest, the vulnerability creeping in without warning. Van noticed, of course, but instead of saying anything, he leaned in and kissed one of my arms softly.

The simple gesture made my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t rushed or impatient, just gentle, like he was telling me there was nothing to hide.

His lips barely left my skin when I felt myself relaxing, uncrossing my arms and letting them fall away from my body. The tension eased, replaced by a warmth that spread through me as I met his eyes again, trusting him a little more with each breath.

“There she is,” Van murmured, his voice low, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at me with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “These are gonna be my new best friends.” He said staring at my bare chest.

I laughed, a mix of teasing and sincerity in my voice. “You’re gonna kill me.”

His hands traced soft lines across my stomach, the gentle caress igniting a fire within me. It felt like he was taking his time, exploring every inch, giving me all the space in the world to decide how far I wanted to go.

But I didn’t pull away. I held my breath, caught between the thrill of his touch and the rush of emotions swirling inside me.

When his fingers brushed against my breasts, I gasped softly, my heart racing even faster. The warmth of his hands felt electric, sparking sensations I had never experienced before. I could sense the anticipation hanging in the air, thick and heavy, and I reveled in it.

“(Y/N)…” he murmured, his voice low and filled with heat, as if he was savoring the moment just as much as I was.

I looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “This feels… incredible,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, a mix of pride and affection shining in his gaze. “You’re incredible.”

Van’s touch grew more confident, his fingers applying different pressures as he squeezed and caressed, each movement sending me spiraling into sensations that felt like pure electricity. I was almost losing myself in it, barely keeping grounded.

But when he switched from his hand to his mouth, a loud cry escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“Shit, sorry,” I blurted out, my face flushing instantly.

Van chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Why are you sorry for?” He grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You sound amazing.”

“I… kinda sounded like a porn star,” I mumbled, embarrassment flooding through me.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Yeah? Well,” his voice dropped to a deeper, more playful tone, “let’s make this porn star come, shall we?”

A rush of heat exploded through my body at his words, my heart pounding in my chest as I met his gaze, feeling more alive and exhilarated than I ever had before.

“Van…” I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice—soft, needy, trembling with the intensity of everything he was making me feel.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with mine, a mixture of mischief and concern flickering across his face. “Yeah?” he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin as he spoke.

I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. Maybe I just wanted him to stop for a second, or maybe I wanted more, to feel everything he had to offer. All I knew was that my body was humming, alive in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze still holding mine. “Do you want me to stop?” There was a tenderness in his voice, a hint of hesitation, like he was more than willing to pause if I needed him to.

I shook my head quickly, my breath coming out in shallow gasps. “No… don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Feeling a sudden wave of confidence, I shifted in the bed, moving to straddle his lap.

The change in position made my heart race, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from the excitement building inside me. Van’s hands immediately found their way to my sides, his touch warm and grounding.

He looked up at me, surprise flickering in his eyes for just a moment before it was replaced with something deeper, something more intense.

His grip tightened slightly, his fingers digging into my skin as if to anchor us both in the moment.

“Well, someone’s feeling bold,” he murmured, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I couldn’t help but smile back, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw as I leaned in closer. “Just feeling what my body needs, right?”

His eyes darkened, and I could feel the heat of his gaze as it traveled over me. “Exactly,” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Being this close to him, no shirt, sitting on his lap with his hands on me, made everything feel more real, more intimate.

My earlier insecurities were still there, but they were overshadowed by the desire coursing through me. It was like all the fear melted away when I focused on the way his hands moved, the way his breath hitched every time I pressed closer.

His lips found mine again, and this time, I didn’t hesitate. I kissed him back with the same intensity he gave me, my hands tangling in his hair as I let myself get lost in the moment.

“(Y/N)…” Van groaned softly, his grip tightening on my waist as I shifted slightly in his lap. His voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a surge of pride that I could affect him like this.

“I just want to make you feel good,” I whispered against his lips, my voice barely above a breath. And in that moment, I realized that my desire to be with him was stronger than my fear of messing things up. This was about us—our connection, our trust.

He leaned in to kiss my neck, his mouth hot against my skin, the sensation of his stubble sending goosebumps down my arms. “You are, baby,” he muttered softly.

I moaned as his lips traveled down my chest, his teeth gently grazing against my skin.

And then he was sucking my nipple, his tongue swiping across the peak in a way that left me breathless and panting. The sensation was new and overwhelming, and it felt like I was losing myself in the sheer intensity of it all.

I couldn’t stop myself from moaning louder, from arching into him and digging my nails into the fabric of his shirt. “Van, please…” I murmured against his hair, my voice so filled with desire that I barely recognized it.

He didn’t stop. Instead, he kept sucking, his other hand finding my free breast and teasing the nipple to a hard peak. I gasped, my hips arching in his lap, and Van growled softly, his hands immediately gripping my waist to keep me still.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?” he murmured, looking up at me through the mess of his hair. “Let me.”

I nodded quickly, barely able to speak past the moan building in my throat. “Please…” I repeated, my voice trembling with need.

Van leaned in, capturing my mouth in a kiss as he pressed me down against him. “Shhh, it’s okay.” he whispered between kisses, his lips gentle, as if trying to soothe my nerves.

But my nerves weren’t what needed soothing; it was the ache building between my legs, the one that was making my heart pound faster and faster.

“Please, Van,” I gasped out, my nails digging deeper into his skin as I writhed in his lap. “Make me feel it again.”

“What?” he murmured softly, his breath hot against my lips. “Make you feel what?”

“Make me feel good,” I gasped. “Like before.” I couldn’t help it; the desperation was taking over, making me lose myself in the intensity of what we were doing.

He hummed softly, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “What was good before? My mouth on you? My hands?” His lips brushed against my ear, sending goosebumps across my skin. “Or was it something else?”

I whimpered, the taunting making my body ache even more. “I don’t… I don’t know,” I moaned, my voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

Van sighed, and I could hear a soft smile in his voice. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against mine again. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah?” I breathed out, feeling some of the tension release in my body.

“Yeah,” he murmured back, his voice filled with reassurance.

Without another word, he lifted me gently and laid me down on the bed, my head sinking into the soft pillows. He leaned over me, pressing a soft kiss against my forehead, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, letting myself relax against the warmth of his body.

His fingers traced a path down my body, feeling each curve and dip slowly, until they settled between my legs. His touch was so light that for a moment I almost thought I’d imagined it. But then he started moving, his fingertips stroking across me, teasing my clit lightly.

I gasped at the sensation, my thighs pressing together, trying to sate the ache inside me. But his fingers continued to tease, never applying enough pressure to give me what I really needed.

“Van,” I murmured, my hands gripping the sheets in an attempt to anchor myself.

He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss against my hip, and I shivered at his warm touch. “What do you want?” he whispered.

“I want… I want you to touch me,” I muttered. “Not so light.”

“What if I don’t?” he teased, his finger grazing against me with that same light touch.

I whimpered again, my hips bucking up against his hand. “Fuck off,” I gasped out. “Please, I want to come.”

He chuckled softly, the sound full of amusement, and I could feel his gaze tracing across my face as he kept up the slow torture. “How bad do you need to come?” he murmured.

“So bad,” I gasped, arching my back, trying to find more friction against his fingers. “Please.” I looked up into his eyes, meeting his gaze as I whispered the words. “Touch me.”

His smile widened, his finger finally applying more pressure, rubbing across me firmly. A cry escaped my lips at the sensation, and he chuckled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That what you needed?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my head tipping back against the pillows, my body arching into his touch.

He started moving faster, his fingers sliding across me with confidence, and I gasped again, barely keeping myself from screaming out in pleasure.

I felt it start to build again—every touch sparking a wave of sensations through me, like my body was one giant nerve ending. I gripped the sheets harder, my hips rocking up into his hands.

“Shhh, I’m taking care of you,” Van whispered, his breath warm against my neck.

I barely registered his words. All I could focus on was the sensation, the heat building in my stomach, spreading through me like fire.

“Holy shit.” My voice came out as a moan, my hips straining upward, trying desperately to meet his hand.

He kept moving, his fingers stroking over me firmly, and then it happened. The pleasure exploded through me, making my body shudder and my breath come out in ragged gasps. I could feel every muscle tensing, could feel myself clenching down on nothing but air.

The orgasm was stronger than anything I’ve felt before, the sensations running deeper and lasting longer.

My body rocked into his hand, the aftershocks of the climax making my skin prickle and my muscles quiver. I felt like I was barely holding on, my vision blurry with the intensity of it.

When I finally came down from it, my breathing was labored, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Van muttered, his lips brushing softly across my stomach.

My cheeks flushed instantly, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away, to hide from him. There was a satisfaction in knowing that I could drive him crazy like this, that he wanted me so badly he would touch me like this.

He shifted slightly, and I could see the outline of his hard cock straining against the denim. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze eating me up, and without thinking, I reached down to touch him.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, his body going still as my fingers brushed across him. His gaze locked onto mine, filled with a heat that sent a rush of moisture between my legs.

I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered. “I love it. I love feeling you touch me.”

My cheeks flushed even harder at his words, but when he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips, I felt some of the embarrassment dissipate.

His kiss was soft and sweet, filled with the kind of tenderness I wasn’t used to receiving. My heart swelled with affection for him, for the way he was holding me, looking at me, kissing me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

And even though my body was still humming from the orgasm, I wanted him again. I wanted to feel that connection, to be close to him and wrapped in his arms.

Van pulled back slightly, looking down at me with something soft and gentle in his gaze. “(Y/N)” he whispered softly. “I… fuck.” His voice trailed off into nothing as he leaned down, pressing another kiss against my lips.

And for a moment, everything just felt right. The way he looked at me, the way I looked at him, the way we just were with each other—it all felt like everything I’d ever wanted. It felt like we could make this work, be together, without everything else getting in the way.

It felt like nothing could stop us. Not the distance, not our jobs, not the doubts and fears. It felt like none of that mattered because we just fit.

We didn’t speak again for a while, just kissing and touching, letting the world around us melt away. And for the first time in a long time, I truly felt free.

After a few more minutes of making out like teenagers, Van lifted his head, his eyes warm and content as he looked down at me.

“Wow,” he murmured, brushing a piece of hair off my face. “I was not expecting this when that bus broke but now I’m so fucking glad it did.”

I snorted. “Stop it.”

We laughed and in that moment, I was sure. I wanted it.

“Van?” I called him, my cheeks burning at the thought of my next words

“Yeah?”

“I want it.”

“What, love?”

“To do it. Tonight.” I couldn’t even get myself to say the words.

“Are you sure, (Y/N)? We don’t have to—“

I kissed him again, not letting him finish, his breath filling my lungs as he moved against me.

“I want to.” I say smiling softly as we pull back.

“You sure you ready? I don’t wanna push you.” he whispered, looking down at me, his eyes filled with an affection that made my chest swell.

I nodded again, and without another word he lifted me up, pressing me down onto the bed as he hovered over me. He pressed a kiss to my neck, the sensation of it making my body squirm with need.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, (Y/N),” he whispered against my skin.”

I wrapped my arms around him and lifted my hips, pressing his hard cock against my entrance.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his whole body shuddering with need. “You’re so hot.”

His cock was warm and hard against me, and I wanted him, wanted to feel that sensation of being stretched open for him.

His lips moved softly against mine, his kiss gentle, almost reverent, and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere.

My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, his hot breath filling my lungs, and as our kiss grew deeper, I let myself drown in it, to let go of everything except the way he made me feel.

Van smiled softly, his eyes filled with affection. “Roll over,” he murmured.

I did as he said, rolling onto my stomach. He settled in behind me, his hands stroking my skin, his touch feather-light as he caressed every dip and curve. It was like he was trying to commit my body to memory, to memorize every inch of my skin.

The thought sent a flutter of affection through me, and I wanted to give him more of me. I wanted him to be as obsessed with my body as he was with my mind.

His touch moved between my legs, stroking me softly, making sure I was wet enough to take him. I arched back into his touch, moaning softly, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against the back of my neck.

“I’m going to make it so good,” he whispered, the sound sending goosebumps over my skin.

“I know.”

And I did. I knew that he would make it good, that he would take care of me. He had proven that before, and in this moment, I trusted him.

I heard the rustle of foil as he opened the condom and then he was behind me, pressing himself against me.

His lips grazed across my back, sending shivers down my spine, his warm breath filling my senses, and his fingers moved between my legs again, stroking across me until I was writhing for him.

“Now?” he whispered against my neck. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Yes, Van.”

He pressed inside me with a single thrust, his cock sliding in easily, and we both groaned at the sensation.

It was like nothing I’d ever felt.

My body tightened around him, my muscles clenching in response to his invasion, and for a second all I could do was breathe through it.

His breath was hot against my ear as he paused for just a moment, letting my body get used to his size, and I felt a rush of arousal at the thought of him being inside me, of how good he felt.

“Good?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

I nodded and he started to move. The rhythm was slow and deep, his cock grinding against my clit with every thrust, and I moaned softly at the feel of it. He was making it good, just like he promised, the way he moved hitting every spot I had and some I didn’t.

“You feel amazing,” he groaned into my ear, his hips starting to pick up speed.

His hand moved between my legs again as he drove into me harder and faster, making it feel even better than before.

I could feel the pleasure building in my belly again, could feel it spreading through my body. I gasped in response to his touch, my hips rolling back into him, and he moaned again, his breath hot against me.

“Harder,” I moaned softly.

He pulled back for a moment, looking down at me. “You sure?”

I nodded quickly, feeling another wave of pleasure rippling through me. “Yes, I want it.”

He nodded and gripped my hips firmly, pulling me up against him as he started fucking me harder. His cock slammed into me over and over, and every hit sent a ripple of pleasure through me.

“Yes,” I gasped out against his neck. “Like that.”

He growled against my skin, his hand sliding down between us again, his fingers finding my clit and pressing against it firmly.

I arched underneath him at the sensation, feeling myself getting closer to another orgasm. “Fuck,”

He gasped out my name as he came, his body tensing above mine, and I felt a rush of affection for him at the sound. It felt special, intimate, like we were sharing something together.

When he came down from his high, he leaned in and pressed another kiss to my lips. “That was incredible,” he whispered against my neck.

My cheeks flushed again, and I looked away, embarrassed by the praise. “Yeah.”

His fingers traced across my cheeks softly. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I whispered softly.

“Get shy,” he murmured. “I meant what I said.”

His lips pressed against mine again, the kiss filled with affection that made me melt into his arms.

As I settled back into Van’s arms, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. He wrapped me up, pulling me close, his warmth pressing against my back. I tilted my head slightly, my hand resting over his, our fingers laced together as if they were meant to fit that way.

The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of our breathing, and for the first time in a while, everything felt settled.

No tension, no uncertainty, just us. In his arms, all the doubts I had been carrying seemed to fall away, replaced by the certainty that I was exactly where I needed to be.

I looked up at Van, my heart full as I pulled the covers over us. “I just want to say… thank you. For being patient. For everything, really. I know I haven’t always made it easy, and sometimes I’ve been… scared. But you’ve never pushed me, and you’ve always been there. I don’t think I’ve told you how much that means to me.”

His expression softened, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. “You don’t have to thank me for that, love. It’s all worth it. You’re worth it.”

I smiled, my chest tightening with emotion. “Still. I’m grateful. For you, for us.”

Van kissed the top of my head, his voice gentle. “I’d wait a lifetime for you, (Y/N). And I’ll keep being here, no matter what.”

Snuggling into his chest, I felt a deep sense of peace. “I know. And I’m not going anywhere either.”

“At least for now,” I murmured, my heart feeling lighter than it had in ages, “everything feels right.”

Van tightened his hold on me, and in that moment, I knew he felt it too. The world outside could wait—right here, with him, in our hotel room, we were all that mattered.

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 4)

Summary: "He had decided that he couldn't live in that fucking house any longer. Couldn't live with the fact that he was surrounded by her ghost all the time. If he couldn't have her back, he wanted to get rid of her for good. Wanted to end this properly. No more clinging on to memories."

Angst, Reader x Van

Part 4 of 10

(Part 3)

Y/N

She woke up from the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table. When she picked it up and squinted at the screen to see who was calling, her heart stopped for a beat and then started speedily jumping in her chest. Van's name was lit up and she clicked on the green button without really thinking about it. Maybe it was because she was still half asleep or because the image of him being in trouble this late at night flashed through her mind. "Van?" She asked, worry clearly audible in her sleepy voice. "Y/N" Van's voice was gruff. There were voices and music in the background. He sounded surprised. She could hear him cough and shuffle on the other end and then suddenly the music and the voices were gone. "What's going on? Are you ok?" She asked again. Van laughed on the other end. It wasn't his usual, warm laugh. It was somewhat bitter. "Yeah, yeah. 'M fine." She could hear a lighter being flicked and she realised what kind of call this was. He was fucking drunk calling her from some party. "Are you drunk?" she inquired. Audibly getting annoyed. "Not enough." He replied and she could hear him exhale the cigarette smoke. "Ok. I'm hanging-" "No! No, please. I just- I needed to tell you something. Didn't think you'd actually pick up though, y’know." Van interrupted her before she could go through with her threat. She sighed. She was tired but somehow glad to hear his voice. Glad she knew he was ok. It was fucked up. She knew that. 

"Ok. What is it then?" She heard him inhaling and exhaling, pretty sure that it was smoke that went in and out of his lungs. 

"I'm selling the house" his voice sounded monotone. But the statement was heavy with meaning. Y/N stopped breathing for a few seconds. She waited. Hoped he would laugh and tell her it was just a joke. But he was silent on the other end, waiting for her to reply. The news hit her harder than they should have. After all, it wasn't her house. She shouldn't care what he did with it. 

But it had been her home too. Had been the only place she truly felt home in. Not even her parents' house compared to how at home she felt in that house. She had loved it. Loved living there. It had been the home she imagined growing old in. It had represented her future with Van. She could see her kids growing up in it. Could see Van teaching them the guitar in their living room. When he had bought it and she had asked him why they needed 4 bedrooms, he had replied "just in case" with one of his stupid goofy grins.

She swallowed and she could feel the tears already threatening to spill from her eyes. "Ok." She managed to choke out after a couple more seconds of silence.

Van selling the house meant he was truly and completely ending everything they have had and would have had. He was selling their memories and any chances of their future together. Selling the house meant the end. Truly. Ultimately. The final to their relationship. 

She bit her lip, trying to control her breathing. Until now she had unconsciously taken comfort in the fact that he was still living in their home. That he was still somehow connected to her. Through the house and all their memories in it. 

Tears began rolling down her cheeks now. He was giving up. He was really giving up on her. On them. 

A sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth. Not wanting him to hear her breaking down over the phone. He was going to sell the last piece of her. He was going to sell her home. It was only then that she realised that she never stopped seeing it as her home. Even after having moved out many months ago, the house remained her definition of home. Where she felt safe. Where she could do what she wanted and be herself without fearing judgement. 

She had spent so much time in this house. Way more time on her own than with Van, but his things kept her company when he couldn't. His records, the couple of shirts he didn't take on tour, his forgotten toothbrush. All the little things that remained, that represented how this was his home as much as hers.

She had unconsciously built some comfort on the fact that if things went too bad, too terrible, she could have gone back. Could have sought comfort in the house. Even if it was just for a while. There was always the option of going back because she knew that he would let her. She knew he would shelter her, soothe her. But now this comfort was taken, the safety net she had unconsciously built on, was pulled from beneath her feet. He was selling her safe haven. If everything failed, she would have no place to go back to. She would be truly and utterly lost. Alone. The thought was terrifying and the panic overwhelmed her.

——— Van

His heart felt like it just broke into millions of little pieces. She was crying. It started with a sob, he could tell she didn't want him to hear it, but soon after, she gasped for air and then she just gave up pretending she was fine. She cried and sobbed and whimpered. And it broke his fucking heart.

He knew he could have just sold the house without telling her, but he concluded that if he told her first, it would hurt her. And that was what he wanted. For her to feel as hurt as he had felt.

But this felt worse. This felt way worse than just being hurt. This felt like someone was cutting into his chest and grabbing his heart and squeezing it until it was just one mushy mess. She was having a panic attack on the other end now and all Van wanted to do was to go see her, take her into his arms and tell her how sorry he was. That he didn't mean it.

But that would have been a lie because he did mean it. He had decided that he couldn't live in that fucking house any longer. Couldn't live with the fact that he was surrounded by her ghost all the time. If he couldn't have her back, he wanted to get rid of her for good. Wanted to end this properly. No more clinging on to memories. He needed to move on. Needed to finally get it in his head that he had fucked this up. That he couldn't fix this anymore.

But her crying made this so much worse. He finally got what he wanted, some evidence of emotion. She hadn't really given him any until now. Not when she moved out and cleaned the house instead of wrecking it. Not when he called and she kept calm and listened to whatever he had to say.

But now that he got what he wanted, he just felt like utter shit. Wanted her to stop crying, wanted to wrap his arms around her, press his cheek on top of her head and rub her back. Wanted to soothe her, give her the comfort she needed and lacked right now. But he was stuck in fucking Glasgow. 400 miles from her. Three more nights till he would be back in London. And even then he had no idea where she lived. He felt absolutely helpless as he listened to her ragged breathing. He didn't know what to say to make things better. So he just kept quiet and listened. Hating himself for having done this to her.

——— Y/N

She didn't care that Van was listening while she completely broke down. She wanted to beg him not to sell the house. Or to sell it to her, only that she would never be able to afford it. But she couldn't form any words. Her mouth only being able of whimpering and sobbing. She tried to concentrate on Van's breathing instead. His presence on the other end of the line was the only solace available at that moment. She wanted to hit and smash things and at the same time wanted to make herself as small as possible. She curled up in her bed and listened to Van's breathing. It didn't sound calm either but it was regular enough. She tried to breathe in and out when he did. He must have noticed what she was trying to do, because his breaths became deeper and calmer and more audible, helping her to orientate her breathing on his. It helped. Her breathing calmed down. It would be interrupted by a solitary sob or hick-up every now and then but she managed to calm her breathing and consequently quietened her crying. She was exhausted once she truly calmed down. The darkness of her room lulling her, the sound of his breathing soothing her into slumber.

——— Van

When he was sure she fell asleep he hung up without another word. He went back inside where the music was still playing and his friends laughing. They didn't notice how exhausted he suddenly looked. He called a cab and went back to the hotel. It was the first time in many years that he cried himself to sleep.

4/10

(Part 5)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 10)

Summary: “They were in a weird place of their relationship. Kinda friends but more. Van was ready to be her boyfriend again. More than ready. More than ready to be more than her boyfriend. But he didn't want to rush her. Knew, she needed her own time, to figure things out. “

Angst (or is it?), Van x Reader

Part 10 of 10

(Part 9)

They stayed in bed all day. 

Only vacating the warmth when they needed to go to the loo or to make some tea. In the evening they ordered in. They cuddled up on the couch and watched a family comedy. It was almost like they were back together. Minus the kisses and confessions of love.

Her friend -the one she was staying with- rang her up at noon, asking if she was ok. She told her she was fine, staying at Van's, not knowing for how long. Her friend was fine with that, although a bit suspicious. After all, Van had caused a lot of pain. But Y/N reassured her it was ok.

Van texted Larry and cancelled his plans for that night. He didn't let her know, of course. Pretended like he hadn't been planning on going anywhere anyway. He was torn between two emotions: Happiness that she was there. That she sought comfort in him. And pain. Because she was in pain. She was hurting. And it hurt him. 

... She collected her stuff from her friend's place and thanked her for providing her with a temporary place to stay. Then she climbed into Van's car and drove back to his house. He had offered her to stay with him. Had said: "This house is way too big for one person anyway... You can have one of the guest bedrooms." The suggestion of the guest bedroom was just a caution though. In case she felt like everything was moving too fast. She accepted his offer. Even cancelled the flat in the west. ... They were in a weird place of their relationship. Kinda friends but more. Van was ready to be her boyfriend again. More than ready. More than ready to be more than her boyfriend. But he didn't want to rush her. Knew, she needed her own time, to figure things out. It was obvious they were still in love with each other. Their relationship didn't lack love, it lacked trust. She needed time to trust him again and he understood that. Gave her time. ... He had to go on tour again. The farewell was sad and heartbreaking. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her but didn't dare to ruin what they have accomplished, by putting pressure on her to say it back. So he stayed silent and tried to communicate it through his embrace. He tried to reason that maybe a little distance would benefit them even. He still was weary though. Didn't want to leave her alone in case she still needed him. But she assured him that she would be fine. Even joked that she would enjoy having the house all to herself. He promised to call her whenever he could. .... Living in the house she called home was freeing. It was great. Life became colourful again. Van called her every now and then. Making sure she was ok.

He could hear her getting back to her old self with every call. It made him feel less guilty whenever he was too busy. Knowing that she was fine. Still living in their house. He missed her enormously though. ... Van came back from tour. Hair grown out. Exhausted. He slept for 12 hours straight. When he woke up, she wasn't lying next to him. He heard her rummaging around the kitchen and smiled at the image in his head of her making pancakes. He made his way downstairs to find he was right. She was making pancakes. However, she was wearing more than just his T-shirt and panties, contrary to what she wore in his mind. When she saw that he was up, she smiled. ... They were lying in bed together after a long day of shopping for last-minute Christmas presents. She would spend her Christmas with her dad. He would drive up to his family. It meant they wouldn't spend it together. She was leaving tomorrow and he became more anxious with every day he couldn't tell her how much he loved her.

The light was turned off. And she scooted closer to him. Nothing new. Almost a ritual. What was new, however, was her wandering touch. It was light and barely noticeable at first. But soon her hands were tracing his chest, wandering over his stomach dangerously low. Then up his side and down his back. He grumbled in mock annoyance when she squeezed his bum. His hands began doing the same. Even going a step further and creeping under her t-shirt -which, technically, was his'- and tracing her bare skin. She pressed herself even further into his body and he knew then that she was ready. Ready to be more than friends.

It was her who kissed him first, but him who deepened it. It was the best night he had, in a long time. The best Christmas present too. Her love. Her trust.   ... Christmas was over and he couldn't wait to get back to London. To see her again. To celebrate New Year's Eve. He was packing his things when he got the call. "Van?" "Yeah?" "I'm sorry." His heart stopped beating for a second. "What do you mean? What about?" "I won't make it for New Year's Eve. I think I'm gonna stay with dad. I feel bad for him."

He exhaled in relief. "Ok. Don't worry. I'll see you when you get back." She had heard his relief though. "Why? What were you thinking I was sorry about?" He kept quiet for a couple moments and then quietly admitted "Thought maybe you'd changed your mind. Didn't wanna be with me anymore."

She kept quiet and then said "wait a minute". There was rustling on the other end. Voices. She must have covered the microphone because he couldn't understand what was being said. After a little more shuffling on her end she came back. "Van?" "Yeah?" "You wanna come here for New Year's Eve?" ... She was nervous to meet the lads again. After all she had caused Van a great deal of pain too and they had to carry the can for most of it. But when she met Larry again, she realised her worries were unwarranted.

Larry greeted her with a hug like they had just seen each other last week instead of two years ago. When she asked him what the others were thinking, he assured her they were all glad that Van was finally back on track. They knew it wasn't her fault. That he had mostly caused the pain himself.

She was particularly grateful when Bond enclosed her in an embrace when they met. He was the one she got along with the best and she had missed him quite a lot as a friend. Knowing the others held no grudges against her was relieving. When Van invited her to spend a couple days on the next tour with them, all doubts were gone and she agreed. ... Things went back to the way they were before the break up. They went back to happy. They went back to having fights. They went back to being silly with each other. They went back to being eternally in love. Only one thing changed: When Van was on tour now, he would call her every night before he went to bed. And she would pick up. No matter how exhausted he was, he would call, even if they had nothing to say but "goodnight". Even when there were nine hours or eleven hours time difference between them. He would call and she would answer. Making sure they both knew how much love they had for eachother.

10/10

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 7)

Summary: "It was past midnight when his phone rang. He wasn't asleep yet, but he already lay in his bed. When he grabbed it from his side table, he saw that it was Y/N and his heart stopped for two beats. He answered immediately. "Y/N?" "Are you Van?" The voice was foreign and Van suddenly became alert."

Angst, Van x Reader

Trigger warning: mention of unconsented drug abuse and assault 

Part 7 of 10

(Part 6)

Van

She left and he crawled into their bed and slept. Exhausted.

Numb.

Gone.

Like her.

——— Y/N

She went home. Lay down in her bed. Cried. Slept. Woke up. Cried. Slept. It was worse than the first break up.

Because she saw how much he was hurting too. The first break up was almost clinical. No emotion on his side. She was able to numb her emotions too then. But this time she saw him break down. Felt his arms around her waist, holding onto her like his life depended on it. He had cried and sobbed and told her he understood. He deserved it. Didn't deserve her.

She wanted to disagree. Wanted to tell him he deserved the world. Wanted him to know how much he's worth. But she couldn't. Was unable to say the words. Scared. Hurt.

——— Van

His phone rang. When he saw it wasn't her, he ignored it.

He stayed in bed. Larry came ‘round. Van didn't care.

It took him four days until he managed to get into the shower and air the bedroom. Four further days to leave the house and get some groceries.

When Larry came 'round again ten days later Van was at least functioning again. Not ok, but functioning.

——— Y/N

Numbing herself didn't work anymore.

Alcohol did the trick though. Alcohol and weed. But she couldn't smoke inside the flat, so alcohol was her preferred anaesthetic.

However, after six days of mindlessly drowning her heartache in wine and gin, she decided she needed to get her shit together.

...

38 days later, she began to feel herself healing. Or so she told herself. She didn't think about him all the time anymore, didn't wonder what he was up to all the time. Didn't feel the urge to go past the house.

A glimpse of hope that maybe, now that she knew what went wrong, she could move on. Begin a new chapter in her life. One without him. So that maybe someday he wouldn't be such a big part of her and her life anymore.

...

Sarah, an old friend from school, invited Y/N to her birthday party.

She lived in London too. Although in different circles. Very different circles. They haven't spoken in years. Y/N knew she lived in London (it was all Sarah had talked about during school: moving to London, studying law, making big money.) but she never made an effort to meet her. She wasn't even sure if 'friends' was the right description for their relationship. They have had a couple of classes together and talked to each other when they met at the one or other party. When they left school, their paths divided. They haven't talked in years. Only when Sarah messaged her on Facebook a couple of months back, telling Y/N that she had heard she lived in London too now, did they start messaging each other again. Nothing deep though.

The party was in central London. In some fancy club, on a roof of a skyscraper, overlooking the city's skyline. The only reason she decided to go was that it was in this breathtaking location and the free booze that was promised on the invitation.

When she arrived -dressed to the nines (as the invitation stated she should)- the security guy steered her through to the lifts and pressed the button up to the rooftop floor for her. That's how fancy it was.

When she got up, there were men in suits and women in fancy dresses situated all over the floor. Y/N tried to find the familiar face of Sarah. But the floor was too big. She walked through the open space, smiling whenever she met someone's eyes. Some smiled back, most just looked at her quizzically. Not mean, just like they had no idea what she was doing there. And to be honest, neither did she.

She spotted Sarah only a couple of minutes later. She was surrounded by beautiful people in suits and expensive designer dresses. She felt uncomfortable and awkward when she walked towards her. When Sarah saw her, however, she squealed and pulled her into a hug. It didn't feel very welcoming though. There was a sense of fakery to it.

She wanted to leave already, but didn't want to be rude either.

...

She was standing on the terrace of the roof. It was cold but the view was amazing. The reason she came in the first place. She would stay here all night if she had to. What she wouldn't give for a cigarette now though.

A guy was joining her after a couple more minutes of solitude. He lit a cigarette and when he saw her looking at him, held his box towards her, offering her one. She took a ciggy, grateful when he stepped closer and offered to light it for her.

They stood in silence for a couple of seconds before he introduced himself as Tony.

... There was a DJ. The music wasn't really what she usually listened to, but it was good enough to dance to. Tony was dancing next to her.

... She felt dizzy. Everything was blurry. There was a nice numbness settling in on her. She smiled to herself and kept dancing. She felt a hand on her hip but didn't care.

... She was walking somewhere. Someone was guiding her. She felt a jacket draped over her shoulders.

She stumbled and felt an arm around her waist. The side of her body was being pressed into the side of another's.

She smiled and giggled. It's been too long since she felt cared for. The body that she was pressed against, was clearly male and he steered her through the blurry pictures of other people.

They came to a halt. A sound like someone was pressing a button. The lift. Someone was guiding her out of there. She smiled. Somehow she thought of Van. He would be doing something like that. Rescuing her.

She felt up the man's chest. Frowned when she noticed it felt different. Not like Van. The chest was much more muscular.

She began to wriggle out of the grasp. But his arm was too tight around her. She wanted to get away. Win some space. See who was escorting her down.

But her mind was foggy and it was hard to concentrate. A ding signalled the lift arriving. The man was steering her into it. She tried to push herself away from him. Struggled. He was strong and she didn't know where was up and down and left and right.

She began to panic, trying to articulate her discontent.

Suddenly a woman's voice pierced through the panic. It sounded like she was cross and arguing. There was a male voice too. Y/N had no idea what they were arguing about but suddenly the grip on her was loosened and she managed to stumble away from the stranger.

... The woman smelled lovely. Like expensive perfume. She was brushing up and down Y/N's back while she tried not to be sick on the lift ride down.

The cold night air sobered her a little. Not enough though. She was shivering.

"Ok, darling. Let's get you home." The woman's voice echoed in her mind.

Home... Home? Home. Van! Van was her home.

"Van." She said out loud and smiled. "Vanny"

"You live in a van?" Y/N burst out laughing. She found the question hilarious.

"No! Vaaan!" She giggled and hugged the woman. "Van is my home."

The woman took Y/N's clutch. She wanted to protest but the woman seemed nice and the thought of Van was still causing her to stupidly grin at nothing.

——— Van

It was past midnight when his phone rang. He wasn't asleep yet, but he already lay in bed. When he grabbed it from his side table, he saw that it was Y/N and his heart stopped for two beats. He answered immediately. "Y/N?"

"Are you Van?" The voice was foreign and Van suddenly became alert. "Who is this? Where is Y/N? Is she ok?" "Yes. Yes, she is ok, she is right here. I asked where she lived and she kept repeating your name. So, when I found it in her contacts I thought I'd call you. She's a bit intoxicated... I think, maybe, someone might have roofied her. If you give me your address, I could call her a cab?"

"No. No, I'll come pick yous up. Where are you?"

The woman on the other end gave him an address in central London. Van put some sweatpants and a t-shirt on, grabbed his car keys and made his way to the car. It would take him 20 minutes to get there. The traffic wasn't going to be too bad so late at night.

——— Y/N

"He sounds nice." The woman said. Y/N was confused. "Who?" "Van," she said.

At the mention of his name, Y/N grin became bigger again. Van. Yes, of course Van was nice. He was always nice to people. He was such a softy. A warm fuzzy feeling spread through her body. The thought of Van's warm hugs. His sweet smile. His laugh. The feeling of his head on top of hers.

"Is he your boyfriend?" the voice of the woman pulled her from her thoughts.

She frowned.

Yes, Van was her boyfriend. Wait. No. No, he wasn't. No. Not anymore.

Why? Why wasn't he her boyfriend anymore? Confusion.

Pictures of him telling her things didn’t work out anymore flashed in her head. Then pictures of him crying. Then the feel of his arms tightly around her, unable to let go.

There was pain spreading in her chest and she put her hand on top of it. Trying to push it away. Still confused. Unable to piece things together. What happened? Why was she hurting? Why had Van been crying?

She wanted to go home. Wanted to curl into a ball and forget the world. She took a couple steps away from the woman and towards the direction of the street. Determined to wave for a cab.

She stumbled, however, forgetting she wore heels for a moment. She caught herself just in time. The shock of almost falling surging through her body. She laughed. The woman was by her side in an instant. She steadied herself with one hand on the woman's shoulders and balanced herself on one foot to unclasp the heel from her other. The concrete was cold and rough under her feet but it was nice. She did the same with the other heel. Now barefoot on the bare concrete.

"Shit, be careful. Don't step into glass or any other shit that might lie around here." Y/N smiled and tried looking down to see if there was anything dangerous near her feet. But her vision was blurry and she got dizzy. She leaned further onto the woman. 

"I like you." She said and hugged her. She felt the comforting rub of a hand on her back. "I like you too."

——— Van

He arrived 20 minutes later at the address. He saw them right away. A woman he never met before and Y/N. He parked the car right in front of them, the street empty.

Y/N was giggling and leaning onto the woman, who seemed to struggle a little with keeping her upright. Van got out of the car, went around and stopped in front of them. When Y/N noticed who was standing in front of her, she gasped in surprise "Van!" It didn't take her long to stumble from the woman into his arms. He caught her and held her upright.

"Vannnn." She mumbled into his t-shirt. "Hi," he whispered into her ear and she giggled. "Let's get you home, yeah?" He brushed a strand of hair from her face and behind her ear and she nodded against his chest. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her inside, buckling her up before closing the door.

He then turned to the woman. "Hi, sorry. I'm Van." They shook hands. "Kiera" she introduced herself. "Let me give you a lift. It's the least I can do." he offered and motion for the backseats of his car. "Oh. No, I'm fine. I'll just get a cab, really." "Don't be silly. Honestly. I don't mind and Y/N will be sleeping through the whole ride anyway. Please. I'll feel guilty, leaving you here like this." It was the least he could do after she helped Y/N out. God knows what would have happened if it wasn't for her.

"Alright." She smiled and climbed onto the back seats of his car. He closed the door behind her and went around towards the driver's seat. As he predicted, Y/N was already sleepily resting her head against the window.

7/10

(Part 8)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 6)

Summary: ""Believe me- please, believe me when I say how much I regret it, because I do." She just nodded. But the dread rose. She was afraid of what he had done. Apprehension creeping all over her."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 6 of 10

(Part 5)

Y/N

She was nervous. Endlessly nervous. She had been standing in front of the mirror for almost an hour before she noticed it was time to leave. Had stared at her pale reflection. She had tried five different outfits before she decided to settle on the jeans and jumper. It would have felt like a first date if it wasn't for the dread settling on her chest. Dread that this could be it. That this could truly be the last time she would ever see him.

She took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell to her former home. It felt strange. Everything felt strange and surreal. To be back. To be at the place she used to feel the most comfortable in, and it now being a place of uncertainty and peril.

——— Van

He was tiger-ing around the kitchen. Unable to sit still. Walking up and down, looking out the window. Thinking about having a ciggy but then deciding against it because he didn't want to smell like smoke when she arrived. He tried to think about what to say to her but his mind was running havoc in his head and he couldn't grasp one straight thought.

When the doorbell rang he had to keep himself from bolting towards the front door. His heart jumped way too fast. It felt weird. She shouldn't have to ring the bell. She should have been able to just come in and make herself a cuppa and sit down next to him. Like she used to.

He opened the door. And smiled when he saw her standing there. Her cheeks were rosy. Her hair in a bun, and overall she looked rather cosy.

Granted, the bags under her eyes were visible even though she tried to cover them with concealer, and she looked a little thinner than the last time he saw her, but other than that she looked like the girl he fell in love with.

He swallowed and stepped aside to let her in. Even managed to choke out a weak "Hi" to which she replied with an equally weak "Hey".

She kicked her shoes off and hung her jacket on the hook that she always hung her jacket on. It was unoccupied,  it was hers and would remain hers.

"You want something to drink? Tea? Water? Juice?" Van asked while walking back towards the kitchen. It was easier to talk when he wasn't directly facing her.  

"Tea is fine. Thank you." She spoke when they arrived in the kitchen. "Camomile?" He asked into the cupboard. "Yeah. Yes, camomile is fine. Thank you."

——— Y/N

He was so stiff and uncomfortable, but he had bought camomile tea. Just for her. He always said it tasted like soap water. She was trying not to think about how easy it would be to just go up to him and hug him and cry and let him soothe her and forgive him. She could see the effects of the break-up on him too. He was always slender and wore the tiredness under his eyes. But he looked even skinnier and the bags under his eyes were massive and dark.

He just had to give her a reason why he did it so she could move on and forgive him.

Because that was what she wanted. Forgive him.

Forgive him so she could love him again and let him love her. That's what they both needed. Each other's love.

But his reluctance scared her. He looked defeated like he had given up already. Like this was it. Like he was giving up.

Did he really think her love for him wasn't strong enough, or was he really that certain that whatever he was about to tell her, would drive her away for good?

He surely must have seen how unyielding her love for him was after all that happened, what could he possibly tell her, that made him think she would bolt now?

——— Van

They sat down at the dining table, facing each other. Well, Y/N was facing down, mustering her cup of tea, more like.

Van had made himself his own cup of Yorkshire tea and was staring at her while he tried to think of something to say. His leg was bouncing up and down under the table. Still not able to sit still.

He didn't want to do this. Wanted to just grab her and hug her and tell her how fucking much he loved her and how he wanted to marry her and have kids and a family and grow old and-... He lost all thoughts when he saw the little tear rolling down her cheek. It was just one. Barely noticeable, but it broke his fucking heart. It was one thing hearing her cry over the phone, but another to actually see it.

An indicator of how fucking hurt she was. How much he hurt her. Still hurt her.

"Y/N." He choked out. "Sorry." She wiped it away quickly and looked up at him. Her eyes all glassy. He swallowed again and looked down on his own cup of tea.

"I don't know how to start." He admitted truthfully.

——— Y/N

She took a sip from her tea. Her breath was shaky. She didn't know what to say either. His leg kept bouncing. She could hear it. Normally it would have bothered her but now it was something she could concentrate on while the silence continued. She couldn't look at Van when he was like this.

Anxious, skittish, afraid.

The love of her life, all scared and anxious, not trusting that she will continue to love him no matter what.

His leg suddenly stopped bouncing and from the corner of her eyes she could see how he rested his elbows on the tabletop and drove his hands through his hair. A groan escaping his chest. He sighed and kept his head propped between his hands.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She kept quiet. Letting him continue.

"On the last tour, the one-... the one before we split- before I broke up with you... I-" His leg started bouncing again but he didn't look up. His hands supported his head while being buried in his hair.

"I did something stupid. Something so stupid. So so so so stupid." He looked up and she held her breath at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes. He was about to cry and it broke her heart.  

"Believe me- please, believe me when I say how much I regret it, because I do." She just nodded. But the dread rose. She was afraid of what he had done. Apprehension creeping all over her.

"Fuck!" his voice broke. "I was drunk and high. That's no excuse, I know. But I missed you and when I called you, you were busy and I was disappointed and I felt rejected and- it's no excuse I know that, I know. It's my fault. No one's but mine. But there were these girls and...." Y/N didn't hear anything after that. Pictures taking over. Pictures of Van fucking another girl. Van kissing another girl. Van hovering over another girl. Van caressing another girl's skin. Van coming in another girl.

It was all too much. She closed her eyes. "Stop."

She didn't know what Van was talking about, but he stopped immediately.

——— Van

"Stop." it was so soft and yet packed with so much emotion. He stopped talking immediately.

Panic rose. She couldn't leave yet. She had to hear the rest of his story, had to hear how shit he felt afterwards. Had to hear how badly he had been doing without her over the last year. Had to know that if she left him for good, he wouldn't hold it against her.

She had to know that he loved her and wouldn't be able to love anyone else.

She was sitting still. Her eyes closed but two tears running down each cheek. Her hands lay on the table. Fists. Knuckles white.

"Please." He whispered, not trusting his voice to not break. "Don't leave yet. Not before I finish." She screwed her eyes together and furrowed her brows as if she was fighting against something. But she nodded, before rubbing both her eyes and mirroring Van's posture. Elbows propped on the table. Head between her hands.

——— Y/N

"I felt like utter shit afterwards. Obviously. I still loved you. Still do-..." Y/N swallowed trying to keep her tears at bay, pressing her lips together to keep quiet. Fearing, if he heard her sobs he would stop. But she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Wanted to let him speak his piece. Wanted to know everything and then move on.  

"I felt so fucking guilty. And I knew if I told you, it- it would break your heart. And I just- I couldn't. I couldn't do that. So I decided not to tell you. But the guilt was eating me from the inside and I had fucking shit thoughts, like, what if it happens again? What if I get drunk again and it happens all over? I couldn't do that to you. I- fuck." His voice was so raw and broken. She didn't realise she had been holding her breath. She tried to inhale deeply without making too much sound but her breathing was ragged and he must have heard.

"I don't know why I thought this was the best idea.. but-... somehow the thought came into my head that if- if I end things with you, the guilt would stop, y'know. If I don't have a girlfriend, I don't have to feel guilty for fucking up. I know, it's messed up." Van's voice was coarse and raw and kept breaking.

Tears kept freely rolling down her cheeks. She wanted to smash things. She wanted to curl into a ball and sleep. Be unconscious. Never wake up again. Wanted this nightmare to be over. Van. Her Van. Being with someone else. Touching a stranger, the way he used to touch her.

"Somehow I got it into my head that family life just isn't for me anymore. That I'll be a rockstar instead. Free to fuck whoever I want, whenever I want." A sob escaped her mouth and she covered her mouth with both her hands. Eyes still screwed shut. Not looking at Van.

"No, no! I was wrong. God, I was so fucking wrong. The guilt hasn't stopped! It just- just grew worse. And the more I tried not to care... about anything, the more fucked up I got... And when I came back from that other tour and- and you left and I realised what I had done I just- I just-... I don't want to live like this. Please." His voice broke completely and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was staring at her. Pleading. When he reached his hands out towards her. She jerked back. Shaking her head.

"Y/N, please... I love you.... I love you." Tears were rolling down his cheeks now too.

She couldn't say anything. Just kept shaking her head. Unbelieving. Broken. Crumbled into pieces.

She stood up. Had to get out. Van was too much for her right now. Seeing him like this. Broken too. Hurting just as much. Maybe he was hurting even longer than her. She didn't want to pity him. Wanted to be mad, but all she felt was pain. For her, and for him.

"I get- I get it- if you leave me for good. If you never come back. I deserve it. Just-" The pain was too much. She stopped in her tracks. Went towards him and did what she had wanted to do since the day he broke up with her.

She hugged him.

He was still sitting on the chair. Pressed his head onto her chest. Where her heart was. His arms came around her and squeezed so tightly that she feared he wouldn't be able to let her go anymore. But right now she didn't want him to let go anyway. They both cried. One hand rubbing his back, the other nestled in his hair. She was trying to remember every detail of this hug. How his arms felt, how his face felt pressed against her chest. How his hair felt between her fingers. How her hand rubbed over the muscles and spine of his back.

She took a shaky breath before saying: "I hope one day you will find love again and be happy. But I- I'm sorry. I can't- I can't be the one. Not right now."

6/10

(Part 7)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 5)

Summary: ""Why?"He knew exactly what she meant. He had been asking that himself too. He didn't have an answer though. Not one that would make her come back anyway. It would rather drive her away for good. He was completely sure of it."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 5 of 10

(Part 4)

Y/N

When she woke up, the phone was still lying next to her face. She had a headache and her eyes felt swollen and heavy. She squinted at her phone to see the time. It said it was eight in the morning.

She wasn't ready to get up, didn't think she would be ready all day. She still felt exhausted. As she lay there, eyes transfixed on her phone, her thoughts ran back to last night. Van was selling the house. Her home. 

Van. Van whom she loved. Van who hurt her. Who kept hurting her because she still loved him.

——— Van

He woke and got up. One more show today. They would be driving to Aberdeen. No time to think about her. He didn't want to. He hated himself for what he had done last night. Drunk as he was he had wanted to hurt her and succeeded. Hearing her break down was worse than he could have imagined. Knowing that it was his fault. He didn't want to have time on his hands today because that would mean he would think about her. So he kept himself busy. Kept close to the others. Bantered. Laughed. Pretended he didn't feel like the worst person in the world.

While he could keep himself busy during the day and during their gig, his racing thoughts kept him from sleeping during the night. The more he tried to keep them away, the more they seemed to fixate on what happened the night before. Until he got to the point where he just couldn't restrain himself anymore. He grabbed his phone and tapped on her name, pressing it to his ear, hoping she would pick up, praying she wouldn't. He wouldn't be able to handle another breakdown.

——— Y/N

She wasn't able to sleep anyway. So when her phone rang and Van's name appeared on the screen she answered without hesitation. She figured it couldn't get worse anyway.

"Hi." She breathed. She was still curled up in bed. Pressing her ear to the phone that was lying on the mattress. She hadn't moved from her bed all day. "Hi." He whispered back. None of them said anything, they just listened to each other breathing. Taking comfort in the fact the other was there. The sadness and heartbreak lay almost too thickly in their silence. She found it hard to breathe.

"It was the last show of the tour tonight." He said eventually after a while of just listening to her silence. "How was it?" She asked, trying not to sound too sad. "The show or the tour?" "Both." "Good. We played some new venues in the states. Had some class audiences over there too. But nothing beats home, y'know." "Yeah. Heard you played Wembley." "Yes, that was proper good. Total madness, actually. In front of all those people" "Yeah, I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you." Van went on to talk about how amazing it had felt to play in front of their biggest audience yet. She couldn't keep the smile from appearing on her face. For a moment she imagined just forgiving him and moving back in and just pretending this never happened. But then she remembered all the pain he had caused. And how she still didn't know why he had done it. The smile vanished from her face just as quickly as it had appeared and when Van finished telling her how amazing their show at Wembley had been, she kept quiet.  Van must have felt the shift in her mood because he kept quiet as well afterwards. Even when she sighed and moved position on her bed. Somehow she wasn't able to hang up. He must have felt the same because she heard him swallow and shift beneath a blanket, but he wouldn't hang up either.

——— Van

He had his phone on speaker. It was lying next to his face. He could see the timer of their call. The seconds and minutes ticking by. It said that they were on the phone for three hours, thirteen minutes and twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty seconds. He could hear her shifting in her bed every now and then and sigh and sometimes swallow. When he closed his eyes he could imagine she was lying there next to him. He wasn't quite sure if she was asleep or not. Her breathing wasn't really audible, she must have put him on speaker too. They had come to a silent agreement not to hang up. Not that he could ever hang up on her while she was awake anyway. He wanted to ask if she was still there but didn't want to know the answer. He didn't want to hang up yet. The knowledge that they were somehow connected through the phone right now, that she was lying next to hers just like he was lying next to his, listening to him like he was listening to her, gave him some sort of comfort. He didn't want to fall asleep even though it was already four in the morning and he was exhausted. But he knew that when he did, he would wake up to her being gone.

——— Y/N

When she woke up, her phone showed that Van was still on the call. It was seven in the morning and she carefully whispered his name. He didn't answer and she tried a little louder. She just heard him sigh and shuffle on the other end, probably turning around in his sleep, but no reply. She hung up and went back to sleep as well. 

The next time she woke, it was noon already. This time she managed to drag herself out of bed and take a shower. She did some work and even mastered to go out on a walk around the block.

When the evening crawled around, however, the heaviness settled in again. It cast a dark shadow over her mood and wore her down until all she could do was lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. She could have called a friend or her parents or anyone else but, instead, she pressed on Van's name in her contacts. Something in her wanting to hear his voice. It took him less than twenty seconds to answer. "Hi" he breathed into the phone. "Hi" she replied. She could hear him huffing as he must have walked somewhere. She heard the typical creak in the second to last stair on their staircase... His staircase. He was going to sell it. The heaviness weighed her down even further.

——— Van

He was surprised to see her name on the screen when he felt his phone vibrate next to him on the couch. He had spent most of the day unpacking and smoking. Trying not to think about how the day would have been if she had been there. How she would have made him pancakes and how they would have spent most of it in bed. When he picked up and heard her small voice he had to bite his tongue to not ask what was wrong. He knew what was wrong. He knew he was the reason for all her pain. 

He got up and went up the stairs to their bedroom. He drew the blinds shut and lay down on their bed.

"I'm home," he said eventually after the silence got too much for him. He wanted to hear her voice but she didn't answer. "Y/N?" His voice was small too. The threat of her hanging up, realising she had made a mistake, danced dangerously around his head. "I know," she said eventually "the creak in the staircase." Van didn't know what to reply. He inhaled deeply and exhaled audibly. The pain in his chest growing.

——— Y/N

"I'm home," he said. The words hurt her. It used to be hers too. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Wanted to forget this ever happened. How much easier would life have been if she was with Van again. In his arms. His smell surrounding her. Them against the world. In their home. Holed away from pain and heartache. But he had decidedly wrecked their relationship, destroyed her trust, took her home away, and said things didn't work out anymore. 

What things? What happened?

"Y/N?" Van's voice was barely audible but it still had enough power to pull her from her thoughts. 

"I know," she said "the creak in the staircase." Van didn't reply, she could hear him inhale and exhale.

Both of them didn't say anything for a while. Both lost in their own thoughts.

"Van?" she asked after ten minutes had gone by speechlessly. 

"Hmm?" he mumbled back.

"Why?" her voice almost broke.

——— Van

"Why?" He knew exactly what she meant. He had been asking that himself too. He didn't have an answer though. Not one that would make her come back anyway. It would rather drive her away for good. He was completely sure of it.

He was astonished already, that after all he had done, she was still willing to talk to him. She was still there. Still worrying. Still hurting. 

But hurting meant, she still felt something. Still loved him, perhaps. If he told her why, she would be gone for good. He knew that. 

What he had done was unforgivable. A mistake so big he didn't dare admit it. 

"Because I'm the biggest idiot in the world," he said instead. She didn't laugh. And he didn't expect her to. She probably knew he wouldn't tell her. So she just kept quiet after his answer. A couple more minutes went by without any of them saying anything.

"I can't move on if I don't know why you did it." She eventually whispered. Van tried to swallow the big lump that was forming in his throat, threatening to choke him. His heart ached. "What if I don't want you to move on?" he whispered back, truthfully. He could hear her swallow and then answer "Then, you are being cruel." "What if I want you back, instead?" He was met with silence on her end. Then a sigh and his name "Van." 

He knew it was pointless. There was no way, she would just forgive and forget what he had done, not if she didn't know why he did it. And if he told her, she wouldn't want to be with him anymore anyway. "How do you expect me to trust you again if you can't even tell me why you broke it in the first place?"

"I know. I know, it's just-... if I tell you-... can- can we do this face to face? Can we meet? I just- I want to tell you. Just- not like this, y'know. Can I see you?"

5/10

(Part 6)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 8)

Summary: "Now she was standing in front of him, frowning into her mug of tea. Wearing his t-shirt and one of his sweatpants. She looked so at home and so alienated at the same time. All he wanted, at that moment, was a time machine. So he could go back in time and stop himself from doing the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe then he would have been engaged to her by now."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 8 of 10

(Part 7)

Y/N

She woke up to a familiar smell. It was so familiar, it brought tears into her eyes. Her eyes were still closed, making the sensation of his smell even more intense. She had read about it. Smell memory. But it was so strong. All surrounding. She opened one eye and instantly knew where she was.

Home. In their bed. Van's and her's. In their bedroom. For a moment she imagined that maybe she had just dreamt everything. That she and Van were, in fact, still together, that nothing had happened. That they were still happy. But the thought didn't last long. She came to her senses too quickly. Remembering everything. Knowing the pain was real and not just a dream.

Van hadn't sold the house yet, then. She turned around. The space next to her was empty. She wasn't in her clothes from yesterday though. She only wore underwear and one of Van's t-shirts. When she looked around she spotted the dress lying on the ground next to her. She frowned and got up. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his closet and pulled them on. She had no idea why she was in his house. Nor how she got there. Nor where Van was. She opened the door to the hallway and went to the bathroom. Primary needs first.

Afterwards, she made her way downstairs. Everything lay quiet. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was ten past nine. There were a few dishes in the kitchen but otherwise, the house was clean. It didn't look like someone was permanently living in it. Van wasn't downstairs, so she figured he either went out already or is sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. She went to the hallway, his coat was still hanging on one of the hooks. His boots stood there too. Together with her heels from last night. She tried to figure out the last thing she remembered. She couldn't even recollect that she had that much to drink. She went upstairs again. Into the bedroom. Even though Van wasn't there when she woke up, his side of the bed was crumpled up too. Granted, it could have been from previous nights or he could have slept in the bed with her for a while. She tried to remember if she fell asleep with Van next to her. But the last thing she remembered was sweatily dancing on the dance floor of that cursed club. Nothing else.

She sat down on the bed and tried to think about what to do next. She had to talk to Van, that much was clear. Even if it was just to apologise. She couldn't just vanish now. The thought of putting that dress on again appalled her, so she stayed in Van's clothes. She grabbed her phone,which was lying on the night stand, and looked at her Recents. Van was listed as the last person she called. At 00:41 AM for three minutes. She rubbed her forehead. She had no memory of calling him. She sighed in annoyance. A headache started to form. She decided, since Van wasn't awake yet anyway, to scoot down and under the covers. Closing her eyes and falling asleep again. Surrounded by his smell. Feeling confused but safe. ...

When she woke up again, it was already past noon. There were noises in the kitchen downstairs. Van, she figured. She slipped out of bed and down the stairs. She didn't know why she was trying so hard to be quiet, but when she stood at the door frame to the kitchen, Van still hadn't heard her yet. He was rummaging around the kitchen. Putting dishes away. Something was sizzling in a pan. When he spotted her, he almost jumped. She had to press her lips together in order not to laugh at his surprised face. "Jesus, Y/N. Didn't hear you coming down. Are you alright?" She nodded, glancing at her bare feet. "D'you want some tea or somethin'?" She looked up at him again and nodded. "Thank you." Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. "'Course. No problem, love." He put the kettle on and grabbed a mug. "Camomile? Or Yorkshire?" "Camomile would be great. Thanks." She sat down on one of the stools of the kitchen island and watched him work. He wore a grey t-shirt and some sweatpants. His hair was unwashed to the point it looked a little greasy, but that was nothing new for Van. She even figured with the length he had now, it suited him. She almost smiled. He looked good.

He cursed when he remembered that whatever was sizzling in the pan was still sizzling. When he took it out with a spatula, Y/N could see it was a pancake. Burned black on one side. He threw it in the sink and she had to bite her tongue not to scold him for it.

The water in the kettle was boiling and he jumped to get her tea ready, leaving the pan empty on the flame. A disaster waiting to happen. She stood up and went towards the hob. Taking the pan from the flame and turning the gas off. When Van gave her the cup of tea, he looked a little defeated. "Sorry. I wanted to make us a proper lunch. Pancakes. I thought it would be nice to-..." he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. She knew the implications. Instead of answering she frowned down into her mug.

——— Van

He wanted to make her pancakes. Like she had made them for him. Whenever he had come back from tour and they hadn't seen each other for a while. He thought maybe this was a start. Maybe they could rekindle. But the way Y/N was acting, told him that his little fantasy would stay one. She was all stiff and frowning. Like she wanted to say something but didn't know how. She was the complete opposite to how she had behaved last night.

Last night she had been all happy and giggling and clingy. She had always been a happy drunk, but after Kiera had told him what had happened, and adding Y/N’s over-the-top behaviour, the possibility of this guy roofying her seemed more and more likely. She had been completely out of it.

When he had tried to put her to bed, she wouldn't let go of him, grabbing onto his shirt, whining his name. She had only been satisfied when he promised to sleep with her in their bed. When he had climbed into the bed next to her -with the intention to wait until she fell asleep and then go to one of the guest bedrooms- she had slipped her dress over her head, just like that, scooted onto his side and pressed her half-naked body into his. It had taken all his will power not to give in to her hug. Not to hold her and feel her skin beneath his hands. He had gotten up and made her wear one of his t-shirts. Not without noticing how rejected and hurt she had looked, but he reasoned it was better this way.

Now she was standing in front of him, frowning into her mug of tea. Wearing his t-shirt and one of his sweatpants. She looked so at home and so alienated at the same time. All he wanted, at that moment, was a time machine. So he could go back in time and stop himself from doing the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe then he would have been engaged to her by now.

——— Y/N

"I'm sorry. By the way. For pulling you into my mess." She said after they stood in silence for a couple more moments. "I-... I can't really remember what happened last night." She heard him swallow and looked up. He looked pained but sympathetic. "I- I think you might have been roofied, maybe." He looked worried and she frowned. It would explain why she couldn't remember anything. But who and how?

"Let's sit down, yeah?" He motioned for the stools at the kitchen island and she hopped onto one. Her cup of tea in front of her. Van stayed at the other side of the island, standing opposite her. Leaning his upper body onto his elbows which were rested on the worktop. "D'you remember the woman helping you?" He asked. She shook her head. "D'you remember some guy trying to get you out of the party?" Again, she shook her head. But she halted for a second. She didn't remember a guy trying to get her out of the party but she remembered a guy getting her and a couple of other people some drinks. The frown between her brows grew deeper and the headache stronger.

"There was this guy though... I-... I forgot his name... Tim. Tom. Tyler. I don't know. He was nice. He got us all drinks. We danced. That's it. That's all I remember. Just dancing." She looked up at Van and he was looking at her worriedly. The sinking feeling of realisation of what could have happened overtook her. She rubbed her hands over her face and kept it covered. "Fuck." "Yeah. Fuck." Van echoed. She peaked through her fingers to look at him. His tone was condescending. Like it was her fault she had been roofied. He was still looking at her, some kind of anger or worry settled between his brows now too. "It's not my fault." She mumbled. "No, it's not your fault, you are right." He sighed. "But you could have been more careful... Kiera told me what kinda party you went to. What were you doing with these snobs anyway?" She took her hands away from her face. She never liked being condescended. Irritation settled over her.   "I was invited by the birthday snob herself. She is an old school friend. I just wanted to have some fun. Is that not allowed?... Who are you to tell me off anyway?" She sounded like a little haughty child, she was aware of that. But Van giving her the fault for last night was just beyond insulting. "I am the one who's worried sick! That's who I am! Just the thought of what could have happened if Kiera hadn't stepped in. For fuck's sake Y/N!" He slapped his hands on the counter. His voice rose in volume, surprising both her and him. "Yeah, well... she stepped in, didn't she. Nothing happened..." It was a weak excuse. But she didn't know what else to say after his outbreak. She understood where he was coming from, just didn't agree with his expression of that emotion.

"Is that what you do now?" He sneered suddenly. "You go to parties, get drunk on all the free booze these men are buying you?" Y/N frowned and when she defended herself, her voice rose too. "Where the fuck is that coming from?! You have absolutely no right to care about what I'm up to. Who I'm seeing, what I'm doing. No. Fucking. Right!" "I'm just fucking worried!" He shouted. "You have no right to be!" She shouted back.

He sighed and became quiet again. He looked down on his hands that were balled in fists. "You were the one telling Kiera last night that I'm your home." She swallowed. She had no idea how to respond to that. Couldn't. Instead, she asked, "Who is this Kiera you keep talking about anyway?"

"The woman who stepped in. The woman who saved your fucking ass from being raped." He grumbled. "You don't have to be so crude." She snapped back. "Just telling the truth." He retorted. Then he sighed again. "I've got her number if you want to talk to her."

——— Y/N

It was easier to talk to Kiera about what had happened than with Van. She was way more factual. Comforting. Understanding. She helped Y/N to piece everything together. How she had seen that guy steering her away. How she had seen her struggle against him. How she had stepped in. How she had been the one to call Van. How he had picked them up and brought her home.

The conversation was exactly what she had needed after the argument she had with Van. She was still in his house. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of their bed. His bed. Talking to the lovely woman that had saved her last night. After everything was said, they made plans to meet. Y/N wanted to say a proper thanks, even though Kiera assured her it wasn't necessary.

After she hung up and processed everything, she went back downstairs where Van was sitting in the lounge. She wasn't ready to leave yet. Something was keeping her there.

Maybe it was the familiarity of the situation. They both knew how to handle their fights. They would shout at each other, get some space for a couple of hours to calm down and then talk about their problems like civilised people. It was a routine they knew, it was comforting to know what would happen next. Now that they went through phase one and two, it left the third phase to conquer. At least that’s how she reasoned it in her head. 

She stepped into the room, sat down on the other end of the couch. Facing him, she drew her legs up to her chest and waited until he was ready to speak too. He stopped playing with his phone and set it aside. Scooting his upper body sideways so he could look at her better. "I'm sorry" she mumbled. Her head rested on her knees and she looked him in the eyes to make sure he knew she was sincere. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have given you the fault for what happened." He told her truthfully while keeping the eye contact. "You didn't. I know you were just worried. And angry, at the situation." He nodded. "Thank you for connecting me with Kiera. She seems really nice" she added.  Van smiled and nodded again. "Of course... should have seen her face when I asked for her number. Like I was trying to get onto her or summat" he laughed a little and Y/N smiled while she tried to imagine the situation. "Were you not?" She teased. "Yeah, 'course. I'll flirt with the lady who just rescued my girlfriend." Silence. Van noticed his slip just as soon as she did. They tried not to acknowledge it. But they didn't know what to say and the silence made it difficult to ignore.

"Maybe I should get going." She sighed and glanced at Van who stared into the off and nodded.

8/10

(Part 9)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 9)

Summary: "She hesitated before quietly asking "Can-... can I stay here tonight?... With you?" She could hear his heart beating in his chest. It accelerated. She could also hear him swallow. "Of course." he choked out."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 9 of 10

(Part 8)

Y/N

When she had left Van's house, she kept his clothes on. She had gotten her dress and phone from upstairs and had grabbed her heels from the hallway. She had peeked into the living room to say goodbye but Van had left his spot on the couch. She hadn't felt like looking for him, didn't know what else to say anyway. And if he had really wanted to say something to her, he would have waited at the door. So she had just left.

...

She wore Van's clothes until they didn't smell like him anymore. Then, she washed them and put them in her closet. She was battling with herself whether she should use them as an excuse to see him again or if she should just leave it be and forget about it.

But it got her thinking. She obviously still was feeling things for him. She just didn't know what those feelings were. Did she still love him? Or was it just the familiarity? She was with Van for so long that she didn't even remember what it was like before she met him. Was she sad she lost him? Or just the fact that she lost a boyfriend?

She tried to imagine being with someone else. Tried to imagine the perfect guy. But she could make her imagined boyfriend as pretty and perfect as she wanted, Van always popped up and took over her thoughts.

Her friends told her she should try going on dates with other guys. Just dates. Nothing more. She figured it couldn't hurt. She went on lots of first dates. But that's what they stayed: first dates. Only a couple guys had been appealing enough to make her agree to a second date. But that was as far as it got. There was always something. Something that didn't fit. She always found excuses and flaws. She figured she just wasn't ready yet. Being single was not too bad after all anyway.

——— Van

Catfish brought out a new album. He went on tour. He was ok. He still missed her sometimes, but he was ok. Life went on.

——— Y/N

Her dad called her to tell her the news. She packed a suitcase. Van's clothes went in it too. She went home. She stayed home for two months. She didn't work and lost the accommodation in the city. She didn't care. On the tenth week that she was home, they buried her. Her mom. She didn't take much solace in the fact that she was with her in her last months. She cried herself dry during that time. There were no tears left at the funeral. Only emptiness. Her dad took comfort from all the people surrounding them. He was glad they showed their support. She knew they meant well; no harm. But she grew annoyed and angry at everyone and everything. Until she couldn't stand being home anymore. Everything a reminder that her mom wasn't there anymore. Wouldn't come back.

She asked friends in the city if she could stay with them until she found a new place. They were supportive, just like when she moved out of her home with Van. Van. She had wanted to call him as soon as she got the news herself. But then she had remembered that she wasn't his business anymore. That she couldn't load this onto him. So she tried to manage it on her own. Only letting a few people know what was really going on.

She went back to the city only five days after the funeral. Her dad was sad to see her leave so soon and she felt guilty for leaving him behind. On his own. Without the love of his life by his side anymore. But she couldn't stand being there. Just the two of them when it used to be three. She made sure his friends were there for him though. She was confident they would keep him company when he needed it.

Her residency was on the couch of a friend in North London.

When she googled how far Van's house was, she found it was only a 30 minute walk. But she reminded herself that she was none of his business anymore. She would have to seek comfort elsewhere when the grief struck again.

And boy oh boy, struck it did.

It was when she was mindlessly browsing the web, in search of new decorations for her new room in a flatshare in West London. An ad had popped up, advertising a service where you could make your own flower bouquet from beautiful flowers they sent to you. It was a Mother's Day offer and she immediately clicked on it, until she realised that her mom wasn't there anymore. Her mom who would have loved this gift because she loved flowers and crafting and everything that was cottage-y or coastal themed. She began imagining her dad, all alone in their house. And she began imagining her mom's birthday without her mom. And she began imagining Christmas without her mom. And she began imagining getting married without her mom. And having her first child without her mom. And she panicked. Because if her mom wasn't there to comfort her during all these events, who else would?

She grabbed her jacket and put on her shoes. She didn't care that it was late and dark already. She walked the way to Van's in under 20 minutes. Suppressing the tears, using the feeling of rising panic to walk even faster. Only when she rounded the corner and turned onto the last street, did she realise that he might not be in. But she didn't care. She had to try. When she came to the house, she almost sobbed with relief when she saw a dim light in the bedroom window. The tears already started falling now. She rang the doorbell. Rang it again to make sure he knew it was urgent. And again. To make sure he wouldn't ignore it.

——— Van

He was sitting on the bed, strumming his guitar, playing around with the lyrics, when the doorbell rang. He looked at the clock on his phone. It was 23:12. The doorbell rang again and he got up to go downstairs. It rang again and he cursed. For some reason, he was imagining Larry standing outside, drunk or upset or both. So imagine his surprise when he saw Y/N standing there. Tears running down her face.

As soon as he opened the door she stepped in and slung her arms around him. He was confused and surprised but not enough to not hug her back. He wrapped his arms around her and kicked the door shut with his foot. She was crying and sobbing into his chest and he knew that she wouldn't be able to answer any of his questions right now. So he just let her cry, while he tried to soothe her by rubbing his hands up and down her back, by making little shushing noises and by telling her that everything was going to be alright.

——— Y/N

She was too anxious to feel embarrassed about her breakdown in front of him. On the contrary, she was glad it was him. He was the only person who was able to comfort and to soothe her when she felt as overwhelmed as she felt at that moment. She was glad he didn't question her. He just let her be and she appreciated him for it. So much.

When she quietened down a little, Van pressed his cheek on top of her head and whispered "do you wanna talk 'bout it?" She shook her head 'no'. Rubbing her face along his chest. All she wanted at the moment were his arms around her, his warmth surrounding her and his smell in her nose. "You wanna sit down? A cup of tea?" He asked and she shook her head 'no' again. "Ok. But you gotta tell me what you need, love." He said while brushing his hand through her hair. She hesitated before quietly asking "Can-... can I stay here tonight?... With you?" She could hear his heart beating in his chest. It accelerated. She could also hear him swallow. "Of course." he choked out.

She reluctantly let him go so they could both make their way up the stairs and into the bedroom where the light of his bedside table was on and the guitar lay on the bed. Notes were strewn around. He quickly collected them all and put them in the drawer of his nightstand. Grabbed the guitar and placed it against the wall. He gave her a t-shirt and some sweatpants and she went into the bathroom to put them on. When she came back into the bedroom, he was already lying on his side of the bed. He looked at her a little unsure but she just slid under the covers with him. He turned the light off.

At first, they kept their distance but soon enough she scooted closer and he embraced her with his whole body. Her eyes were hurting and felt swollen and she was exhausted from all the panic she had felt earlier. In his arms, sleep came easy.

——— Van

He still had no clue what happened to her. He knew it must have been something terrible. She wouldn't turn to him if it wasn't.

It was morning. Early morning light filtered through the windows. He had forgotten to draw the curtains shut last night. But he couldn't make himself get up now. He didn't want to leave the warmth of their bed. Didn't want to wake her through unnecessary movements. Also, the light made it possible to watch her in more detail.

Under her eyes lay dark circles. She looked exhausted even in her sleep. Her hair was unwashed. Her nails bitten down. Whatever it was, it had her in a worse condition than he ever saw her in. He was glad that he had been home. He had been thinking about going up north to his parents for a couple of days while the band had a break, but now he was glad he didn't. Unimaginable what would have happened if she had rung his doorbell and he hadn't been home. His heart ached for her.

He heard when she woke up. She sighed and swallowed. Yawned. He brushed a hair from her eyes. She smiled a little without opening them. When she did, he could see that they were still slightly swollen. Still slightly red. "Morning." He mumbled, because he didn't know what else to say. "Morning." She mumbled back. They were still laying close to each other but their bodies didn't touch. He could still feel her body's warmth though. She swallowed again and inhaled deeply and then scooted closer towards him again. He instantly embraced her. Glad he could. Glad she let him.

They lay in silence for a bit. Then she spoke. "My mom died". Van stopped breathing for a couple of seconds, unable to say anything. "Shit." He mumbled and hugged her even closer to his chest. It was a lame response but he didn't know how else to reply, didn't want to ask questions in case she wasn't ready to say more. "She had cancer in her liver" she continued after a while. Van nodded, signalling that he was listening and that she could continue if she wanted. "Dad called me and said they couldn't cure it anymore. I didn't even know she had it, and for that long too." She sniffed. Van's heart broke.

"I went home and she died two months later" he felt how she moved her arm and wiped at her face. He leaned back a little to look at her. Her eyes were glassy and a couple of tears had spilt over. He kissed her forehead, lost for words. She snuggled into him again. He clenched his jaw at the thought that she went through that and he had no idea. That she had to do it on her own. Hadn't he been such a fuck-up, he could have been there for her. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. Not just for her loss but also for not being there when she needed him. She just nodded in response.

9/10

(Part 10)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 2)

Summary: “"Y/N?" He breathed down the line. His voice unbelieving. "What?" She tried to sound snappy but it came out rather sad than angry. "Fuck, Y/N." There was shuffling on the other end. Then: "Hi. How are you? How have you been? Shit. I can't believe you actually picked up." He had the audacity to chuckle. She could tell he was drunk by the way he slurred the words a little. Y/N remained quiet.”

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 2 of 10 

(Part 1)

Y/N

She was sitting in her small single room that she occupied in a flatshare in the east of London. Tapping away on her laptop.

A couple of days after Van left, she managed to form this void inside her. She called it the grey void of nothingness. She could feel neither happy nor sad. She just existed. Numb. It was a coping mechanism. 

Every now and then she would slip. The grey turning black and the emotions crashing down on her. Then she would cry and howl and curse the whole fucking world.

But the grey void of nothingness helped her get things done. 

Helped her find a flatshare, where she could afford the rent. 

Helped her pack her stuff together and leave the house she had called home for years. 

Helped her wipe away any traces of her existence in it.

For a short moment when she packed all her belongings into boxes, she thought about leaving all the presents he had bought her. The dress she had tried on during their visit in New York, but after looking at the price tag, decided she would leave it in the store, just to find it in her suitcase after landing back home. The necklace he had given her with his initials as pendants. The cheesy love letter he had written her once after they had a huge fight and she pretended to move back to her parents.

However, she decided that she didn't want him to have those things of her either. So she gave the dress and necklace to charity and burned the letter. The void of nothingness helping her being less sentimental about the memories. 

....

She had a good streak that week. Hadn't slipped for four days. Just lived and breathed and worked. Distracted herself from the memories and emotion that lurked behind the thin wall in the back of her mind. They were ready to emerge and overwhelm her whenever she made the mistake of thinking about him. Even if it was just for a second. Last time she slipped was because she was shopping with a friend when she found a jacket. She thought about how good it would look on him and then remembered that it didn't matter because she would never see him again anyway. The emotions came crashing in then and she had to excuse herself and dart to the restrooms so people wouldn't see her crumbling down in public. She cried herself to sleep that night and woke up in nothingness the next morning.

She was sure she would have lasted longer than four days if it hadn't been for her phone ringing. Van's picture appearing on her screen. She couldn't pick up.

——— Van

He rang again. And again after that. And again. He even left a couple of voicemails: "Y/N pick up. I just wanna talk, okay?" "Fuck Y/N. Pick up your fucking phone." He even sent her some texts: "Please, can you pick up your phone? I just want to talk." "Y/N?" "Y/N, please. You don't have to say something. Just pick up yeah?"

He just wanted to know she was there. Wanted to know she still existed. But his texts and calls stayed unanswered.

——— Y/N

Van gave up after an hour. She hadn't turned the phone off. Just cried harder with every call she didn't answer. Like a masochist who couldn't get enough of the pain. Her crying lasted well through the night and into the early morning hours. How easy it would have been, if she could have just picked up. If she could have just listened to what he had to say. But the pain kept her from answering. Fear and a tiny bit of anger, too. What could he have said to make this better anyway? Nothing.

Nothing could make this better. The pain was there, he had caused it and it wouldn't go away. Nothing could make it stop.

——— Van

It's been a month since he came back home to their empty house. His empty house. He had bought it. It was his. And yet it didn't feel like it. It didn't feel like his house or his home. It just felt like another place to stay at. Like one of the houses, he and the lads stayed at while recording their last album. Familiar but not home. Not like it belonged to him. Not like he belonged in it.

He threw himself into work. Wrote song after song. Made the band fly to Berlin and then to Oslo just to write and record a few demos for their new album. Everything so he wouldn't have to spend too much time in that house. But the others quickly grew tired of his relentless work ethics and intervened. Van had no choice but to take a break. He decided to spend it with his parents up north.

However, he already began regretting this decision the first day he went home, as his mother asked him how Y/N was doing. Of course, he lied, said she was doing fine, just busy with work. He couldn't admit that they had split. If he mentioned it, he would also have to justify why. And he couldn't explain why he did what he did. He was too ashamed of it. But his parents could see how restless he was. They wanted to help. When they recognised that Van wouldn't spill what was bothering him, they turned to the only other person who would know. And while Larry didn't want to rat Van out, he, too, was worried about his best friend's behaviour. So Larry, who knew Van had broken up with Y/N, told them just that, hoping Van would finally come to terms with it.

...

Bernie sighed as he watched his son mindlessly strumming on the guitar. He knew Van, knew how stubborn he could be. How easily offended he could get if he felt ganged up on. "You need to talk to Y/N." He said and Van looked up at the mention of her name. Van furrowed his brows, not quite realising that his father knew.  "Even if it's just to end things properly. But son, you can't go on like this." Van understood then, that Bernie somehow had found out, and he clenched his jaw. "I tried, yeah?" he spat back. "I fucking tried but she won't answer the fucking phone. I don’t even know where she lives now." Mary, who had listened to their conversation from the kitchen, came into the room and commented "I still don't understand why you did it in the first place. I thought you were happy, the two of you. Last time we saw you, you went on about marrying that girl." Van got up, not caring about the guitar that hit the ground with a painful sounding thump. He wordlessly walked out of the room and towards the front door. He opened and slammed it shut, leaving his helpless parents behind. Heading for the next pub.

——— Y/N

It had been about a month since Van had called her. Two since they broke up. No, since he broke up with her.

Van's name appeared on her screen. This time it wasn't accompanied by his photo. She had deleted it. It was late in the evening and she was watching a movie on her laptop, trying to fall asleep, when he called. She contemplated whether she should answer it or not. But she felt stable enough in that moment. And she reasoned that she could hang up any time if she should need to. So she pressed the green button to accept.

There was silence on the other side. For a moment she wondered if he would say anything at all. She definitely wouldn't make the start. "Y/N?" He breathed down the line. His voice unbelieving. "What?" She tried to sound snappy but it came out rather sad than angry. "Fuck, Y/N." There was shuffling on the other end. Then: "Hi. How are you? How have you been? Shit. I can't believe you actually picked up." He had the audacity to chuckle. She could tell he was drunk by the way he slurred the words a little. Y/N remained quiet. When Van noticed that he wouldn't get an answer, he sobered up a little. "Can we talk?" He asked. "We are talking." She answered. "No. No, I mean face to face." "No." Silence. "I miss you." Now it was Y/N's turn to chuckle. It was cold and sarcastic. Designed to mask the pain she was feeling. "Is that all?" She asked and was glad she didn't choke on the words. There was silence on the other end of the line, only Van's breathing. "I'm going to hang up now." She said and did just that, without giving Van the chance to object.

——— Van

He called her again the next night. This time less drunk. Hoping she would pick up again. To his astonishment, she did. "Hi" he greeted her. "What?" She sighed. "Just wanna talk, is all." He tried to sound nice, unthreatening. "I have nothing to say to you." She retorted. "That’s fine. You don't have to. I can do the talking." "Van, I'm tired." Silence. Van wanted to ask her to say his name again. But he feared she would just hang up if he did. "Ok, you can fall asleep while I talk, just- just don't hang up ok?" She didn't answer but also didn't hang up. "I-" he wanted to apologise. Wanted to tell her how sorry he was, but it just didn't feel right over the phone. "The lads and I were in Berlin a couple weeks back. Remember that time we went together?" He was met with silence but he kept on going. He told her news from Bondy, knowing how well she got on with him. Told her about Larry and Bob and Benji and what they were all up to. He kept on rambling over an hour, always finding new stories to tell her. So much had happened in the two months. 

Of course, he left out the stories that happened during the nights when he was drinking too much, picking fights with his friends because he wanted to scream and make them feel as angry as he felt. 

When he didn't have any more stories left to tell, he quietly asked into his phone: "Y/N?" She mumbled "Hm?" He knew she was almost asleep, so didn't answer. Just kept quiet and pressed his phone closer to his ear so he could hear her breathing. When it evened out and he was sure she was fully asleep he softly said "I'm sorry, I fucked up." and hung up.

2/10

(Part 3)

[sounds-like-humpty-dumpty]

Mistakes (Part 3)

Summary: "Van found that the house wasn't vacant of her presence after all. She was everywhere. Memories and stories behind every corner. On every surface."

Angst, Van x Reader

Part 3 of 10

(Part 2)

Van

After spending a week with his parents and after calling her a couple times more -without her picking up- he went back home. Back to the house.

But when he opened the front door, something had changed. It felt different.

It didn't feel empty anymore. It didn’t feel devoid of homeliness. Devoid of her. 

Instead, he noticed that he was surrounded by memories. 

When he stepped through the door and into the lounge, his eyes roamed around the room. He let himself fall onto the couch. And the memories began flooding his mind.

Y/N and how she sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch, rolling a joint. They were belatedly celebrating their anniversary. Van had just returned from tour. Their actual anniversary had been a couple of weeks prior but they had both been too busy to make a big deal out of it, so they decided to celebrate it once he was back. They didn't feel like going out that night, just ordered pizza and put some random movie on. They didn't pay attention to most of it anyway, too occupied with each other. 

Or that one time Y/N insisted on watching that new horror-thriller everyone was talking about. But she was too scared to watch it alone so waited until Van came back. She spent most of it pressed into his side, only watching with one eye open, covering her ears whenever the sound of bones snapping or flesh tearing blared from the TV. Van didn't mind, he relished the fact that she clung onto him like he was a safety buoy.

When he glanced into the dining room and mustered the table, he could almost see her sitting there. Papers were strewn across the whole surface. They had barely used the table for eating. It was always covered with papers and notes and books. Both, Van and Y/N, using it more as a desk than a dining table. Sometimes their notes would get mixed up and he would find her handwriting in between his’. She was always sketching up new plans and writing emails and scrunching her nose when she took a sip from her tea and found it had gone cold already.

When he walked into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, he thought back to all the times she was dancing around the kitchen in only her undies and one of his t-shirts. It was a tradition that whenever he would come back from tour, tired and exhausted, that she would make him pancakes in the morning. After they had their slow morning sex, of course. She would turn on the radio, mix the batter, wiggle her hips, grin when she caught him staring at her ass. He would sneak up on her, wrap his arms around her waist and almost make her burn the pancake that was sizzling in the pan.

Van found that the house wasn't vacant of her presence after all. She was everywhere. Memories and stories behind every corner. On every surface. The pillow on the couch: she once threw at him because she was angry that he had broken his promise and booked a gig on her birthday. The palm tree in the corner of the hallway: She used to call it Pamela and whenever she wanted to convince him of one of her ideas, she said that Pamela thought it was a good idea too. It was silly and she knew it but it worked because it made him laugh and give in to whatever weird concept she came up with. The rug: She had brought it with her when she moved in and he had spilt wine on it and freaked out, trying to get the stain out before she came home. Unsuccessfully. And when she came back from work and noticed how worked up he had gotten over that stupid rug, she laughed, kissed him and said "It's just a rug. No one died. Chill."

He trudged up the stairs and into their bedroom. His bedroom. He lay down on the bed, not caring that he was still fully clothed. He closed his eyes and imagined she was lying there with him. Watching him with sad eyes as he tried to calm his breathing. He remembered all the times she had wrapped her arms around him whenever he felt overwhelmed by work. All the times he had done the same for her. He often wasn't there to witness her weak moments. But when he did, it broke his heart to see her defeated. He couldn't imagine what it was like for her when he wasn't there to soothe her. 

She had always been the stronger one. 

He sighed, pulled all his clothes off and snuggled into the blanket. Sleep came easy. He dreamt she was there with him.

——— Y/N

She sighed when her phone rang again. Van's name appearing on the screen. It was a nightly occurrence now. Every night around the same time. She would let it ring, never pick up. She knew it had been a bad idea to answer it the second time he called. Knew it had sparked hope in him. But she couldn't allow herself to answer.

Because the third time he called her, she had crumbled. The void of nothingness had been flooded by all the emotions she tried to lock away. She had had a shit day anyway and when she saw his name on her screen all she wanted was to curl into his warm body and let him soothe her. She wanted to cuddle into him, hug him and bury her face into his neck.

And that thought had scared her. Because if he would have asked her to forgive him and come back, at that moment, she would have done it within a heartbeat. And that's what terrified her. It terrified her how much she still loved him. How he could hurt her this much and still be able to get away with it if she'd let him. Because he still meant so fucking much to her.

She didn't pick up then, because she was scared that he would offer to come ‘round, and that she would let him. 

And she didn't answer the phone any of the other nights since. He never left any voicemails. Not that she would have listened to them anyway. 

The ringing stopped again and she got ready for bed. It was like a nighttime ritual. His call would signal her it was time to sleep. She would lie down and stare into the half-darkness of her room. Imagining him lying in their bed- no, his bed, and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes she would cry, sometimes she managed to fall asleep without.

But soon the nightly calls got less. First, it was every other night, then every other week until it was almost a month since she last saw his name on her screen. It should have relieved her. She should have been able to finally move on. Stop thinking about him. But it was hard. She kept wondering about what he was doing at certain moments. 

Wondered if he still missed her sometimes. Got angry that she was thinking this way. Purposefully thought back to the day he had ended things. Out of the blue. Saying it didn't work out anymore. Tried to forget he ever existed. 

But it was hard to forget about all the plans she made about their future. No matter what she had planned, somehow he was always featured in it. To throw these images and plans overboard was hard, and it hurt, and she didn't want to imagine anyone else in his place. Not yet.

——— Van

When the next tour came around he was glad to finally get away from the house. He was living with her ghost. Everything he did in there was somehow related to her. Washing the dishes, brushing his teeth, showering, even sleeping. Getting back on the road has never been this relieving. He bathed in the attention of their audiences. Loved meeting new people. Making new memories without her somehow being connected to them. They toured through North America and he tried to soak in the freedom. Tried to remember all the reasons he broke up with her in the first place. He tried to live like he was on the tour immediately after he broke up with her. Free and unbothered by guilt or heartbreak. Some nights he managed to do that. Other nights he didn't. Then he would spend the night drinking. The lads trying to keep him from drinking too much. Sometimes their distractions worked, and other times they would find him out cold on his bed, a bottle of rum next to him.

3/10

(Part 4)