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writerofautumnnights · 2 months ago

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𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: Jobe Bellingham has always kept his guard up—until Sarah comes along. Unbothered by his fame, she makes him question everything he thought he knew about love. Can he take the risk of opening up?

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: english is not my first language ANDDDDD this is the third chapter of the series.

# tags: @lonely-world3 @barcagirly @formulafortyfour @kennaskorner @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @oceanfanatic06 @haartemis @eriks-girl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @virgilsgurl @everlyjay @kj77 @muglermami @sailurmewn @goldenngt @cranberryjulce @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl

keara’s imessage: I just want to say a huge thank you for all the love and feedback on the previous chapters! I'm so grateful for every comment, compliment, and all the support. You guys are amazing! 🥹 I'm really excited to hear what you think of this new chapter, and I can't wait to share more of this journey with you. Keep sharing your thoughts with me, I love hearing from you! 💗

masterlist

The soft music filled the air of the small studio where Jobe spent part of his free days. It wasn't anything special — a pool table, a sofa, a video game, and the two only friends he shared more than just game tactics with: Eliezer and Chris. The smell of pizza saturated the air, blending with the subtle aroma of craft beer Eliezer had brought. His friends were laughing, immersed in some inside joke about the last game of the season. But Jobe heard nothing but his own pulse in his ears.

The phone was still in his hands, the screen lit up with Instagram open to his personal account — the one only his closest friends knew existed. The account he used to be just Jobe, not the player who made headlines and appeared in TV commercials.

He had promised Sarah he would stop following her. On the official account, he kept his word. On the account that a considerable number of people monitored, where each new follower became a topic in forums and themes on Instagram pages created just for that, he obeyed without hesitation.

But here... Here he still followed her.

He swiped his finger across the screen, feeling a lump in his throat when her face appeared among the unseen stories. He took a deep breath before tapping on the gray circle.

It was the fourth time that night he watched the same story. Sarah at a club he didn't recognize, laughing and dancing with friends she made during the exchange program, holding a cup of some drink. She danced to the rhythm of the music, making everything more complex. Her hair flowing around her face, the makeup light, almost imperceptible, and that carefree sparkle in her eyes she always carried.

And still, it hurt as if someone had shoved something between his ribs.

Because she was fine. Beautiful. Light. And completely without him.

Jobe slammed the phone shut, squeezing it in his palm as if he could crush that image along with the device. He stared at the emptiness of the room, as if he could erase that scene from his memory.

But it was too late. Her voice, with that accent that made each word sound like music, seemed to echo in his ears even after the video ended. It was the only sound that remained from weeks without a real conversation.

Chris noticed his silence. It wasn't the usual silence of Jobe, the focused silence of someone thinking about the next move. It was a heavy silence, filled with something he rarely saw in his friend.

"You're acting weird, bro," Eliezer commented, adjusting the cue stick and lining up the next shot. "Since that game against Leeds."

Jobe slowly spun a water bottle between his fingers, his gaze lost on the carpet. He hated this kind of conversation — being called "weird," as if emotions were anomalies. But he also knew that with these two, he didn't need to pretend.

"Just... thinking," he murmured.

Chris let out a laugh. "He's been like this since he stopped talking to that girl. What's her name again?"

"Sarah," Eliezer added. "The Brazilian."

Jobe lifted his gaze, briefly. He didn't respond. But they both already knew.

"How long has it been?" Chris prodded, tossing the video game controller onto the sofa. "A week? Two?"

"Almost eight."

Eliezer whistled. "Wow. That's like... a really long time for you."

Jobe furrowed his brow. "It's not even that."

"So what is it then?" Eliezer insisted, potting the seven ball. "You said she wasn't going to last. That she was just another one who'd disappear. And now look at you."

"She didn’t disappear," Jobe replied calmly. "I pulled away."

"And now you keep looking at everything she posts. Were you checking her profile again?" Chris asked, lowering the music volume with the remote.

Jobe didn’t answer right away. He twirled his phone between his fingers, a nervous gesture he’d developed since he was a teenager.

"It’s not like I’m stalking her," he murmured finally, more to himself than to Chris. "I just... liked a story. Like I’ve been doing for the past few weeks."

"And did she respond?" Eliezer asked, his voice not accusatory, just stating a fact.

"Sometimes. An emoji here. A comment there." Jobe ran his hand over his face, feeling the weight of fatigue that wasn’t physical. "We didn’t go beyond that."

"She asked you to stop following her on your official account," Chris reminded him, reaching for another slice of pizza.

"Yeah." Jobe let out a deep sigh, the kind that seemed to come from the bottom of his soul. "But only because I already have her number. So I respected it, of course. But... I kept following her on the personal account. I couldn’t... just disappear completely."

Eliezer exchanged a quick look with Chris before raising an eyebrow toward his friend. Silence fell for a moment. Chris and Eliezer exchanged glances, surprised by the honesty.

"You’re not the type of guy to dwell on things, man. This is new," Eliezer sat up straighter on the couch, genuinely intrigued. "Since I’ve known you, you’ve always been the guy who doesn’t get attached easily. Who keeps everyone at a safe distance."

Jobe ran his hand over the back of his neck, a gesture that betrayed his discomfort. He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, much less admitting it aloud. On the field, he always knew exactly what to do. In his personal life, he had built walls so high no one could climb them.

"Ah," Chris murmured. "That thing again."

Jobe leaned back against the couch. He took a deep breath. "I’m... distrustful. Of everyone. Most people... they don’t come close with good intentions."

"You talk like you're fifty," Eliezer joked, but with no judgment.

"Have you seen how many people try to get close to me and Jude just to get something?" Jobe asked. "Models, influencers, even his damn ex pops up talking to me. Like I’m the beta version."

"But you’re not," Eliezer countered. "You’re Jobe. And this girl, Sarah... she doesn’t seem like any of those."

Jobe lowered his gaze. "Exactly. She doesn’t seem like any of them. And maybe that’s why I pulled away."

"But you can’t just pull away because of that."

"You know how it is," he finally said. "I can’t trust anyone who gets close. Most just want something. A photo for Instagram, a video for TikTok, to be announced as my new fling."

"But she was different," Chris added, realizing where Jobe was going.

"Completely different." An involuntary smile appeared on Jobe’s lips as he remembered. "In the two dates we had... she knew who I was, of course. But it seemed like that was just a detail, you know? It was never the most important thing."

"Did the language barrier help?" Eliezer asked, curious.

Jobe nodded, spinning the bottle between his fingers.

"In a strange way, yes. When she talked to me, with that accent and messing up words, it was like... like she was more focused on understanding me than impressing me. She laughed at her own English, wasn’t ashamed of making mistakes. She was authentic."

He stared out the window, watching the city lights stretch as far as the eye could see. It was the kind of view most people would kill for. To him, in that moment, it seemed empty.

"I tried to understand why," he confessed, looking back at his friends. "It was just two dates. And then, only online interactions. Likes. Short comments. It wasn’t supposed to... mean this much."

"But it did," Chris said simply, without mockery.

The silence that followed was filled only by the low sound of the music. Jobe picked up his phone again, scrolling through the older photos on her profile, stopping at one she had posted right after they had met.

"They marked smaller things," he finally spoke, his voice taking on a tone of Jobe that his friends rarely heard. "The way she looked at things. The way she laughed at my last name like it was some private joke only she understood." An involuntary smile appeared on his lips. "The way she spoke with an accent, messing up expressions and laughing at herself without caring."

Jobe locked his phone, but didn’t let go of it. He just held it, as if the object were a portal to memories he couldn’t let go of.

“Yeah...” Eliezer pondered, watching his friend.

"She never tried to impress, you know? Even in the messages we exchanged later. She never asked for anything. Never tried to use our connection to gain followers or get attention. And maybe that’s why it felt so... real." He looked at the two friends, searching for some kind of support—or perhaps an easy way out of the conversation he had started. "She talked to me like I wasn’t anybody." He let out a short laugh, devoid of humor. "And for the first time in my life, that was good. It was... freeing."

Eliezer let out a knowing laugh, getting up to grab another beer from the fridge. He opened the door and lingered there for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts before returning.

“That’s what you want and can’t admit,” he said, coming back and handing a bottle to Jobe, who declined with a silent shake of his head. "Someone who likes you without the weight of the name, the club, the last name. Someone who sees you beyond the image everyone knows."

"Maybe." Jobe narrowed his eyes, thoughtful. The still cold bottle in his hand contrasted with the warmth he felt in his chest. "But that’s also what scares me. Because I’ve spent years protecting myself from people who get close because of interest. I don’t know how it works when someone gets close... just for me."

Chris, who had been watching attentively, crossed his arms and leaned forward.

"You’re afraid to let your guard down," he stated, not as a question.

Jobe took a sip of water before responding, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat as he organized his thoughts. It was strange how some truths seemed so simple when said by someone else.

"Not just that." He hesitated, his fingers drumming on the bottle. "I’m afraid of showing her who I really am, without the protections I’ve built... and that not being enough."

The words hung in the air, heavy and sincere. The kind of sincerity that only comes between close friends, in the late hours of the night when defenses are low.

"You’ve always thought it wasn’t enough," Eliezer observed calmly. "Since the first call-up. Since the first title. You’ve always felt like you needed to prove something. But I think with her, it’s different, right? It’s not about proving you’re good enough on the field."

Jobe nodded slowly, surprised by the accuracy of his friend’s words.

"It’s about being good enough as a person," he added, almost whispering. "Without the jersey, without the spotlight. Just me."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Only the soft sound of the music and the distant hum of the air conditioner filled the room. Chris adjusted himself on the couch, tilting his head to the side as he did when he was about to say something he knew Jobe needed to hear, but didn’t necessarily want to.

"She’s already in your head," Chris finally said. "It’s gone beyond just attraction. You know that, right?"

Jobe unlocked his phone again, almost reflexively. Her story had disappeared, the 24 hours already gone. But in his mind, every frame was still vividly present.

The laughter that started in her eyes before reaching her lips. The accent in her voice that turned his name into something special. The awkward way she tried to explain something in English when she got too excited. The way she said "Jobe" like he was a character from a book only she knew — with affection. With presence.

"I got used to it, you know?" he said, breaking the silence. "Keeping everyone at a distance. Being cautious about who I let into my life. It’s easier that way." He shook his head, as if surprised by his own conclusion. "After so many people approaching because of interest, you develop a radar. A natural distrust."

"And even so, with her, it was different," Chris commented.

"She went straight through my filters," Jobe smiled sadly. "Like the barriers didn’t even exist for her. Even knowing who I was, she seemed more interested in who I really am than the player who shows up on TV."

"You’re afraid of liking her," Chris said, blunt as always.

Jobe didn’t respond. That was exactly it.

"But you like her," Eliezer added. "It’s obvious, man. When you talk about her, your face changes. You even become less grumpy."

Jobe laughed softly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He looked back at his phone, thinking of all the times he’d written messages he never sent.

"She’s different. Really," Jobe finally said. "She has this... lightness. But she makes me think a lot. She makes me feel a lot."

"And since when is that a bad thing?" Chris teased, poking his arm.

"Since always," Jobe replied with a tired half-smile. "It’s easier when no one matters. What if she doesn’t feel the same?" he asked, his voice betraying a vulnerability he rarely showed. "What if, for her, it was just curiosity to meet someone from another country, with another culture?"

"Then you move on, like you always do," Chris shrugged. "But at least you’ll know."

Eliezer leaned in, grabbing a slice of cold pizza.

"You’ve faced entire crowds booing you, man. You can send a message to a girl."

Jobe smiled at the comparison. It was easier to face a packed stadium than his own feelings, especially when they challenged years of carefully built caution.

"It’s easier when no one matters," Jobe repeated, almost to himself.

"But she matters. And maybe that’s answer enough," Chris concluded for his friend.

And he was right.

"Maybe tomorrow," Jobe said, slipping his phone into his pocket, as if doing so could push away the thoughts that kept chasing him.

But even as the conversation shifted to the next game, even as they laughed about other stories and recalled moments from the past, Sarah’s image remained there, like a song you can’t get out of your head.

And that night, when he finally laid down, her face was the last thing on his mind before sleep came.

Sarah, with her spontaneous smile and unfiltered words. Sarah, who never tried to impress or take advantage of who he was. Sarah, who, without meaning to, had found a way through all of his carefully constructed defenses.

And no matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew that tomorrow, the first thing he’d do when he woke up would be to check if she had posted anything new. A small connection, a thread that was getting thinner and thinner, one he couldn’t force himself to cut completely.

***

It had a month since they’d last had a real conversation. Since Sarah had returned to Manchester, their interaction had been limited to small gestures on Instagram: a fire emoji on one of her selfies, a discreet laugh at one of his jokes, a “???” when she posted a video of a player missing an open goal. Tiny provocations, just enough to maintain a fragile thread of connection that seemed thinner with each passing day.

Sarah had thrown herself into the exchange program — intensive English classes that left her exhausted, new city strolls to explore every corner of Manchester. At first, she thought about Jobe with every new discovery, imagining what it would be like to show him the places she visited. But gradually, those thoughts faded, buried under the frenzy of her new routine and all the unfamiliar experiences.

So when her phone buzzed and his name lit up the screen, Sarah hesitated. She was sitting on her bed, an earring in hand and freshly glossed lips. The video call request glowed across her screen, and for a moment, she considered ignoring it. Pretending she hadn’t seen it. Her heart raced for no good reason, anxiety creeping in — her English had improved, but there was still that lingering insecurity when talking to him, that fear of missing something important. But her fingers had already swiped across the screen before she could reconsider.

Jobe’s face appeared. He was leaning against the headboard, game controller resting on his chest, headphones hanging loose around his neck. The TV light bathed his face in blueish tones. But he wasn’t focused on the game. He was looking straight into the camera. At her. There was something different in his eyes — a mix of relief that she’d picked up and a shadow of resentment for the distance that had settled between them.

Sarah blinked a few times, adjusting herself on the bed, still slightly surprised. ��Hi...?”

Jobe stared for a moment. His dark eyes scanned her image on the screen. Her bare shoulders, the tight black bodysuit, earrings swaying gently as she moved. He tried to hide the impact she still had on him — he’d convinced himself over the past few weeks that what he felt was just a fleeting crush, but seeing her now made it painfully clear he’d only been lying to himself.

“You going out?” he asked, his accent thick, voice lazy — like he already knew the answer but couldn’t help the slight twinge of jealousy he’d never admit to.

She frowned, not understanding right away. Her English had improved, but his Birmingham accent was still tricky. “Going... what?”

Jobe smiled faintly, patient. He was used to that tiny delay between him speaking and her understanding. Secretly, he loved it — it reminded him of how it all started between them, the early conversations full of misunderstandings and laughter.

“Out,” he repeated slowly, still with that distinct Birmingham accent that sometimes made certain words unrecognizable to her. “Are you going out?”

Sarah blinked, then let out a quiet laugh once she got it. A mix of pride and embarrassment flushed through her — proud of understanding faster this time, embarrassed she still needed the extra second. “Ah! Yes. I am. With... friends.”

She said the last word carefully, watching his reaction. Part of her wanted him to show some jealousy, some sign he still cared.

Jobe nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on her. “Hmm.” The sound came out more loaded than he meant. In his head, Sarah was living an entire new life without him — making new friends, discovering new interests — while he was still stuck in the same place, waiting.

Sarah frowned. “What?”

He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, when in reality, he felt a tangled mess of frustration and longing. The past few weeks had been strange — for the first time in years, he caught himself checking his phone constantly, waiting for messages that rarely came.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you still remembered how to go out.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes. The words hit her like a small accusation, and she felt heat rising up her neck. “I... always go out.” The sentence came out smoother now, a reflection of all those endless hours practicing with new friends and teachers.

“Not with me,” he replied, a small side smile forming — the kind that always made her stomach twist a little. Behind that smile was a month of nights he almost called, almost texted, asking her to come back to Sunderland. But pride always won.

She stayed quiet for a moment, mentally organizing her sentence. Translating before speaking. Her process was faster now, more fluid, thanks to weeks immersed in the language. But with Jobe, there was still that extra pressure — the desire not to mess up.

“I thought... you were busy.” It was only partly true. She’d seen his photos from training, with friends, always smiling, always seeming fine. She’d watched his matches too. That stung, somewhere deep down, as if her absence didn’t make a difference. Should it? She didn’t know.

Jobe raised an eyebrow. “So you thought about calling me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement wrapped in disguised hope. He wanted to know if, at any moment over the past weeks, she’d missed him the way he missed her.

Sarah felt her face flush. The heat spread from her neck to her ears, that familiar feeling of being caught off guard that always seemed to happen with him. She looked away, fiddling with her earring like she was adjusting it — but it was just nerves. Her fingers trembled slightly against her skin, betraying her calm.

“No,” she said quickly, almost like a defensive reflex, the words out before she could think. Then she sighed, recognizing the obvious lie. “May...be.”

He chuckled, that low, husky laugh that always felt more intimate than it should, like he was sharing a secret only they knew. The sound traveled through the call and made Sarah grip her phone a little tighter.

“It’s cute how you take so long to answer.” There was something almost tender in the way he imitated her hesitant speech — not mocking, more like celebrating the thing that made her unique to him.

Sarah looked up at the screen, pretending to be offended, but feeling a different kind of warmth now — not embarrassment, but something deeper she wasn’t quite ready to name. “I... take long because I think.” The words came out clearer this time, a result of her growing confidence from conversation classes.

“Hmm.” Jobe tilted his head, like he was analyzing her. There was something new in the way she spoke — more confidence, less hesitation. He felt a mix of pride and a strange sense of loss, like she was slowly slipping away from him as she adapted to this new world. “But thinking too much is dangerous.”

“Better than... saying dumb things,” she replied with a small smile that reached her eyes, teasing him in a way she rarely did before. A new version of Sarah was emerging — one who was starting to find her place in this foreign language — and Jobe laughed, shaking his head, fascinated by the change.

As Sarah leaned back in bed, she shifted a little. And that’s when the red-and-white shirt bunched up on her pillow came into view. The same one he gave her on match day — the one with his name and number on the back. She only realized it when Jobe’s gaze locked onto it, unmoving, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

He narrowed his eyes. Tilted his chin. Something changed in his face — a rare vulnerability, like he’d just stumbled upon something precious he hadn’t expected to find.

“Is that... my shirt?”

Sarah’s eyes widened, panic rising like a wave. Nervousness overtook her body, spreading through every fiber. It was like being caught in an intimate secret, something she did on lonely nights when the longing for Brazil – and maybe for him – was stronger. She tried to cover it quickly, pulling the duvet over her with awkward movements. But it was too late.

“No!” she responded automatically, with an expression that gave away everything but conviction. Her eyes fled from his on the screen, while her fingers nervously gripped the edge of the duvet.

“Yes, it is,” he said, laughing, a genuine smile lighting up his whole face. There was no teasing in his voice now, only pure and simple satisfaction. “I recognize it. I wear this shirt almost every game.”

Sarah huffed, turning her face to hide how much the discovery affected her. Her heart was beating too fast, and she needed a few seconds to find the right words. “It’s com-fy.” The excuse sounded weak even to her own ears.

Jobe raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. Inside, he felt an inexplicable warmth spread through his chest. During those weeks of silence, he had wondered many times if she had moved on, if maybe he was nothing more than a distant memory. Seeing his shirt there, in her room, was like an unspoken confession.

“So now my shirt sleeps there with you?”

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, trying to regain some dignity. “D-do you want... it back?” The words came out challengingly, but her chest tightened at the thought of him saying yes. The idea of returning that shirt, her small comfort on lonely nights, was almost painful. There was a challenge in her voice, a newfound confidence he didn’t recognize.

He stared at her for a few seconds. The silence between them was laden with unspoken words. And then he responded in a softer, almost intimate tone: “No. It’s better there.”

His voice, in that deeper and softer tone, ran down Sarah’s spine like a physical touch. She felt a warmth spread up her neck, down to her chest, as her fingers involuntarily gripped the duvet. For a moment, the distance between Manchester and Sunderland seemed to completely evaporate.

Sarah’s chest tightened. A wave of emotion flooded her, a mix of longing, confusion, and something more intense that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She hated it when he said things like that, out of nowhere. When he dropped his guard, even for just a second. It was as if he was saying so much more than the words. As if, despite the physical distance and the month of separation, he was still completely connected to her.

She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject before her emotions became too obvious. Her fingers gripped the edge of the phone as she organized her thoughts. “Did you just... call me to... tease me?”

“Maybe.” He gave a little laugh and glanced to the side, as if distracted, a rehearsed gesture to hide how much that call meant to him. The truth was, he had spent hours deciding whether to call or not, fearing she wouldn’t answer, or worse, that she would answer and seem indifferent. But the truth was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her for a second, studying every reaction, every nuance of expression. “But I also wanted to know if you want to go to the game. We’re playing near Manchester in a couple of weeks, and I thought you might want to come.”

Sarah hesitated. Her heart sped up again, but for a different reason now. The idea of seeing him in person after so much time made her stomach flip. The possibility hung in the air between them – it wouldn’t just be a game, it would be a reunion. It would be real again.

“Me? At the game?” Her voice came out softer than she intended, almost vulnerable. She wondered if he could tell how much the idea affected her.

“Yes.” He bit his lower lip, a nervous gesture that betrayed the confidence in his voice. His dark eyes shone with a mix of anxiety and barely concealed hope. “Or do you have something better to do than watching me play?”

She smiled, teasing, as her heart raced in her chest. The simple act of flirting with him through the screen made her hands tremble slightly under the covers, where he couldn’t see. “Maybe I do... I don’t know. Maybe with an invitation... the right way.”

Jobe let out a short laugh, but the image of someone shy didn’t go unnoticed. He straightened up, trying to regain the control he felt slipping through his fingers whenever she smiled like that.

“Full of demands, huh.”

“You like it,” she said before thinking, the words escaping like a secret that had been kept for too long.

He blinked more slowly, his pupils subtly dilating. And he smiled. Softer this time, with a vulnerability she rarely saw. The smile he kept, not for friends or teammates, but only for moments like this.

“I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping a few tones, hoarse and sincere. His hands instinctively ran through his dark hair, a gesture Sarah had already noticed he did when he was nervous or emotional.

The silence stretched for a moment. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was one of those silences that makes your skin tingle, even at a distance, filled with unspoken possibilities. The electric tension of words trapped in both of their throats. Jobe’s gaze cut through the screen, intense and questioning, making Sarah look away to any other place. Her stomach tightened with a mix of fear and desire, while she pretended to fiddle with something on her bed, her restless fingers betraying the casual appearance.

Sarah looked at the clock on the screen, noticing some photos from her friends arriving in the group. She quickly focused on understanding the message, nibbling her lower lip unconsciously, a small crease of concentration forming between her brows. Jobe captured the best of her in that distracted moment. The part he liked and she didn’t know – the authenticity of her gestures, the vulnerability she tried to hide.

“You look beautiful like this,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if sharing a precious secret. His eyes were fixed on her, with an intensity that crossed the miles between them. “But I don’t think you even realize it.”

Sarah felt her stomach knot, a warmth rising up her neck, coloring her cheeks. But she smiled, almost shyly, as her heart pounded against her chest so hard that she feared he could hear it through the microphone. She shifted on the bed again, ready to say goodbye, even though every cell of her body protested against the idea of ending the call. The conversation lingered in a moment when she needed to leave, and now the nervousness was different: she didn’t know how to stop looking at him. The magnetism of those dark eyes that seemed to see beyond her facade. Nor how to hide the smile that stubbornly returned every time Jobe averted his gaze and then returned as if he didn’t want to, as if he too were fighting the same inevitability as she.

But before she could say anything, he moved, the sudden movement breaking the tension of the moment.

The image on the phone trembled as he got up from the bed, revealing for a moment a piece of his slim torso under the cotton t-shirt. The camera now showed part of the dark, tidy room, with trophies on a shelf and a Sunderland hoodie hanging on the chair. Sarah absorbed every detail, mentally cataloging them as little treasures.

“I’m gonna get some water,” he said casually, already leaving the room, but his voice carried a tension that revealed he also needed a moment to compose himself.

“Uh... okay,” Sarah replied, not quite sure if she should stay on the call. Her finger hovered over the hang-up button, but curiosity won. She saw the image shift, the phone being carried in his hand as he walked down the hall, the movement shaking the camera in sync with his steps.

The sound of soft footsteps and the light turning on in the kitchen appeared on the screen. He set the phone on the counter, at a slightly crooked angle that showed part of the counter and him opening the fridge. The cold light illuminated his profile for a moment, highlighting the defined line of his jaw that fascinated her so much.

Sarah leaned in, trying to see better, her body instinctively tilting as if she could cross the screen. She felt a strange sense of intimacy that took her breath away, as if she were entering a private and privileged space of his life that few had access to. A piece of intimacy she hadn’t expected.

Until a voice came from the background, startling her.

“Hi, son. What are you having?”

It was a deep male voice, with the same accent as Jobe, maybe even more pronounced, with the roughness that comes from years lived.

Sarah’s eyes widened and she straightened up in bed, her spine suddenly rigid. She felt her heart race, the blood pulsing in her ears. It was his father. She recognized the word “son” with difficulty, but the rest... she wasn’t sure. Panic began to form in her chest, the idea of being introduced, even virtually, to his father without any preparation.

“Dad, I’m on the phone,” Jobe replied, giving a discreet laugh that carried a touch of embarrassment. He opened the bottle and took a sip, his throat moving as he swallowed, then looked at the phone, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of amusement and apprehension. “With Sarah.”

"Sarah?" Jobe's father's voice sounded closer, curiosity evident in his tone. "The girl in the shirt?"

"Yes," Jobe confirmed, a shy smile forming on his lips, as though sharing an inside joke with his father that Sarah didn’t fully understand. The thought that they had talked about her before made her stomach flip again.

"The Brazilian!" His father's voice carried a note of recognition and approval, which only intensified Sarah’s embarrassment.

Sarah stood frozen, her hands gripping the blanket tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. The shame was palpable in her expression, the embarrassment obvious in her lowered eyes, which could no longer meet the screen. The idea that she was a topic of conversation in his house, that his father knew about her, brought a wave of intense heat to her face.

"Oh meu Deus," she muttered in Portuguese, almost laughing nervously, the sound strangled from her dry throat.

"Hi," Jobe said, turning his face toward the screen, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and tenderness as he saw her obvious discomfort. The corner of his lips curved into a gentle, almost protective smile. "Do you want to say hi to my dad?"

"N-no, no need, I-I’ll hang up… really," she said quickly, the English coming out jumbled with anxiety, the words tripping over one another. Her eyes searched frantically for any excuse to escape the situation, her heart seeming to want to leap out of her chest.

"Sarah," Jobe called again, softer now, his voice wrapping around her name like a caress, with a gentleness that made her body instinctively relax. His eyes met hers through the screen, steady and reassuring. "It's okay. He's cool."

Before she could argue, Mark appeared in front of the camera. A man with stubble, an easy smile, and a curious look. He leaned against the counter with a cup in hand. It was clear they shared the same facial structure – the same expressive eyes, the same jawline, even the way they slightly furrowed their brows when focused.

Sarah watched, fascinated, as the hand gestures while speaking were identical, the slight head tilt to the right when interested in something. Mark seemed like an older version of Jobe, as if someone had given a glimpse of what Jobe would look like in a few years. There was something comforting about that continuity, something that made Sarah smile involuntarily.

Jobe noticed Sarah's analytical gaze, how her eyes moved from his face to his father’s and back. He knew she was connecting the dots, noticing the similarities. The heat spread through her neck, rising to her ears when she realized she had been caught in her detailed analysis. She quickly lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip in a gesture Jobe had already noticed as characteristic of her when she felt exposed.

He almost confessed right there that after the shirt incident at the game, he had spent hours talking to his father, asking for advice on how to approach her again. Mark had been straightforward: "If you really like her, you need to do more than just smile." Jobe would never admit it, but every message, every calculated gesture in the past few days had been carefully discussed during long nighttime calls with his father. Seeing them interact now, even through a screen, created a strange sense of completeness he hadn’t expected to feel.

"Hi, Sarah. Jobe talks a lot about you."

Sarah felt like time froze for a moment. The words "talks a lot about you" echoed in her mind, sending a wave of heat through her body. He talked about her to his family? How often? What exactly did he say? A mix of panic and a strange satisfaction settled in her chest. She widened her eyes, trying to process not just the English but also the meaning behind those words. Some phrases went straight over her head, but others she caught.

She laughed nervously and waved her hand, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions that simple sentence had triggered.

"Hi, Mr… B-Bellin..gham?" The surname she had learned so proudly, now a complicated word with her Brazilian accent.

"Call me Mark," he said with a smile, a bit proud. "I'm the father of that guy there. And… I love Brazil, by the way."

She smiled, still a bit shy. "R-really?"

"My favorite player. Ronaldo. The Phenomenon."

Mark made a gesture as if he were hitting an imaginary ball toward the goal, and Sarah finally relaxed a little. She laughed.

"Ah, yes! Ronaldo is... very good."

She looked at Jobe, still trying to organize her words.

"Your... dad likes... Brazilian football?" she asked, the words coming out slower than usual. Sarah hated how nervousness made her forget everything she had learned.

Mark understood despite the hesitations and answered before Jobe could.

"He used to watch a lot a few years ago. Even before this guy here," Mark pointed to Jobe with his thumb. And Sarah wanted to run at that moment. The thought that... Jobe and she were facing a big age difference made her want to get as far away as possible. "The way you guys played... it was like dancing."

Sarah smiled, feeling her blood rush to her head with the effort to keep up with the conversation. Her fingers tapped discreetly against her bare leg, as if mentally typing out the words to process them.

"My dad... he also loves football," she managed to say, pride shining in her eyes despite the pauses. "He... took me... to... a lot of games."

Mark gave her a genuine smile.

"So, you know your stuff! Which team do you support?"

Sarah furrowed her brow, processing the question. Jobe started to speak more slowly, but she raised her hand with determination, wanting to try on her own. This made a smile bloom on the boy’s face.

"Flamengo," she said with a confident smile, one of the few words that didn’t require effort. "Always Flamengo."

Mark clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Zico! Zico was great!"

Sarah’s face lit up at hearing a familiar name, and she visibly relaxed. It was as if, suddenly, she had found common ground where words didn’t matter so much.

"Zico is a legend to me," she said, making a nearly theatrical gesture of reverence that made Mark laugh. Her eyes sparkled with genuine admiration, that kind of passion that only appears when we talk about our childhood idols. "Just like Ronaldo... is to you."

"But you watched Ronaldo play?" Mark’s question came with curiosity, his dark brown eyes – so much like his son’s – studying her with renewed interest.

"Yes." Sarah's voice faltered, a lump forming in her throat.

How could she say this without revealing her age? A momentary panic overtook her, her mind racing to calculate dates and seasons. The expression on her face – a mix of terror and desperate mental calculations – made Jobe laugh, the deep, genuine sound echoing through the kitchen.

He watched the scene with a growing sense of relief in his chest, the tension in his shoulders finally relaxing. Up until this point, everything had been flowing better than he had dared to expect. He couldn’t hold back the laughter, his body shaking slightly with the effort. Sarah bit her lip, a gesture Jobe had already noticed was characteristic when she felt exposed.

He never imagined that his dad, with his limited knowledge of Brazilian football – he knew Ronaldo only because he was a casual fan of the big names – could create such a quick connection with Sarah. There was a warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the two interact, as if worlds were colliding in an unexpectedly harmonious way.

Mark said goodbye with a warm smile and a wave to the camera, leaving the two of them alone. His eyes met his son’s for a brief moment before leaving, a look full of silent approval that made Jobe’s heart skip.

"Never, never do that again," Sarah said quickly as soon as the door closed, her words tumbling out in an urgent whisper, her body overtaken by embarrassment, and her wide eyes like those of a cornered animal, making Jobe laugh. The sound of his laughter eased something inside her, even as she pretended to be indignant.

"It was fine. He liked you," he replied, his eyes still dancing with amusement, one hand raised in a soothing gesture that only served to irritate her more, in a way she secretly liked.

"Your dad’s English... is... a bit faster?" she asked, her brows furrowing in genuine confusion that Jobe found adorable.

Her fingers drummed nervously against her cheek, a quick rhythm betraying her apparent calm.

Jobe laughed, picking the phone back up from the counter, feeling a wave of affection as he saw her confused expression.

"I know. He has a very thick accent. Even I sometimes pretend I understood."

Sarah let out a muffled laugh, the sound escaping like champagne bubbles, covering her face with her hand for a second. She looked away, feeling her face and neck heat up, as if embarrassment had its own color.

"My brain... freezes... when I get nervous. It takes time."

"It’s cute," he said, walking back to the bedroom. His steps were light, almost bouncy, reflecting the mood expanding in his chest like a balloon. "The look you make when you're trying to understand..."

Sarah made a face, her eyes half-closed in false indignation, but the stubborn smile at the corners of her lips gave her away.

"It’s not cute. It’s... desperation." The words came out almost in a dramatic groan that made Jobe’s stomach flip.

Jobe flopped back onto the bed, still smiling, the mattress creaking softly under his weight. The light from the bedside lamp cast golden shadows on his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw.

"You’re doing great, Sarah. Really. Better than I would if I had to speak Portuguese." There was sincerity in his voice, mixed with an admiration he didn’t try to hide.

She looked at him with a semi-serious, semi-amused expression, her head slightly tilted as if evaluating him. A loose strand of hair fell over her eyes, and she brushed it away with a distracted gesture that Jobe followed with his gaze. "I doubt it."

"I swear," he said, laying the phone on its side, showing only his face now, too close to the camera. His eyes looked darker in this light, almost black, with an intensity that made Sarah hold her breath. "But... I can help you with the accents. Whenever you want." The offer came laden with deeper meaning, promises of other conversations, other moments like this.

Sarah felt her heart slow down, a rhythm almost hypnotic. The tension easing slowly, replaced by a warm calm that spread through her limbs like honey.

"Thank you," she said, her voice softer, almost a secret shared between them. "You're... kind." The words carried the weight of a confession, as though admitting it revealed more than she intended.

Jobe raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile spreading across his face, the kind of smile that only appeared in moments like this, when defenses were down. A smile she was starting to think was just for her.

"I try." There was vulnerability in his voice, an openness he didn’t show to just anyone.

She glanced at the time again, the movement almost reluctant. The group of friends had already sent a dozen messages saying they were waiting at the pub. Reality was calling, demanding her attention, pulling her away from this small world they’d created between screens.

Sarah slid her finger across the phone screen, about to end the call, when Jobe's voice came before she could touch the screen. There was an urgency in it that made her finger hover in the air, as if captured by a spell.

"You're leaving already?"

His tone was casual. Almost distracted. But the way his chin rested in his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen, and the half-second pause before he asked… made it clear he wanted her to stay.

Sarah hesitated.

The silence between them lingered, warm. But not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that, just weeks ago, would’ve seemed impossible between them. Since she’d returned to Manchester, this had been the longest time they’d spoken. Likes, brief responses, funny reactions to stories—all of that had become the new standard. Small remnants of contact that never quite broke, but never moved forward either. A thin line between what was and what could’ve been.

Now, they were here. Together. But separated by miles and the phone screen.

Jobe, lying on the bed with a pillow against the headboard, watched every detail of the woman before him. The yellow light in the room softened her features, but his eyes were sharp. He stared at her like someone watching a sunset—silent but completely present.

Sarah, sitting with her legs crossed on the hostel bed, still held the second earring she was about to put in when the call started. Forgotten between her fingers. Her curls cascaded around her face like a golden frame, and she only realized she hadn't finished getting ready when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

If she had to pick a moment to end the conversation, this would be it.

But, for some reason, she didn’t want to.

"Yes."

Jobe nodded slowly, as if absorbing her answer. The movement was subtle, but Sarah noticed. He briefly glanced at the TV, muted, as if looking for something to distract his thoughts.

"Did you watch the last Sunderland and Norwich game?"

The question came so naturally that Sarah took a second to fully process it. She pieced together the words—game, Sunderland, Norwich—and understood the meaning.

"Game?"

Jobe raised his eyebrows, confused and clearly surprised that she didn’t get it right away.

"Sunderland vs. Norwich."

He spoke slowly, his accent filling each syllable, as if testing whether the problem was his pronunciation or if she truly hadn’t watched.

Sarah laughed, shaking her head.

"Of course I watched. I’m almost becoming your number one fan."

Jobe let out a slow smile—the kind that seemed to start in his eyes and only then reached his lips. Sarah realized too late what she had just said.

"I didn’t know you were a fan of mine."

She pursed her lips, unsure how to get out of this one.

"Neither did I," she murmured. But then she took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and recovered. "But… when I saw you play… I felt proud."

Jobe’s reaction didn’t come immediately.

He simply stopped fiddling with the TV remote, as if her words had disarmed something. Sarah didn’t immediately realize the impact of that, but Jobe did.

His chest tightened a little. As if an invisible string that always pulled him away—away from people, away from feelings—had loosened for a second.

The silence lasted a little longer than necessary.

He shifted on the bed, adjusting the pillow as if needing an excuse to change position. Then he looked away at the TV before turning his gaze back to her.

"Good to know."

Sarah realized he didn’t know how to respond. And, in a way, she liked that. It was rare to unsettle Jobe. Maybe she had that effect on him too.

But before she could say anything, he continued:

"I’m proud of you too."

Sarah furrowed her brow.

"Why?"

"Your English."

She laughed, and the sound came light—a laugh that slipped out before being contained. Her face warmed. The heat spread across her cheeks and neck, even though no one could see it. Still, she felt it.

"I still… make a lot of mistakes."

"But it’s much better."

Sarah sighed, crossing her arms.

"I don’t know. I still struggle. This… accent…"

Jobe grinned, as if he already knew where this was going.

"This accent… what?"

She made a vague gesture with her hands.

"Hard. Very hard."

"I thought you liked challenges."

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but he quickly threw out a phrase in the middle of their conversation. Something she didn’t understand. Again. The tone was clearly teasing, and she knew she hadn’t caught the double meaning. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

"What?"

Jobe rested his chin in his hand, his eyes sparkling.

"You didn’t get it?"

She frowned, trying to remember exactly what he’d said.

"I… don’t know. What does it mean?"

He flashed a slow grin.

"Want me to explain?"

She nodded, hesitant.

When he translated, Sarah’s eyes widened, and a mix of embarrassment and laughter surged through her like a shock.

"Jobe!"

He burst out laughing.

"What? You asked for it!"

Sarah covered her face with her hand, shaking her head.

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Say things with… double meanings!"

Jobe raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"Me? I would never do that."

"You only do it because you know I won’t get it right away."

"I do it because I like your confused face."

Sarah let out an exasperated sigh, but there was a smile hiding on her lips.

"Humiliated… on international TV."

Jobe smiled, leaning a little closer to the camera.

"So, you’re my fan."

She tried to retort, but was caught off guard again.

"No."

"But you just said so."

"Maybe. I’m still deciding."

He squinted, suspicious.

"You’re trying to change the subject."

Sarah bit her lower lip, hesitated, and then murmured:

"You know, there are days when I find all of this really strange."

"What?"

She looked down.

"You. Me. This thing. You’re… nineteen. I’m twenty-seven. If I had a kid your age… and a woman my age came around… I wouldn’t let her near."

Jobe gave a crooked smile.

"Eight years is how long it takes for wine to become perfect."

Sarah stared at the screen, surprised.

"You… you just made that up."

"Or not. Who knows?"

He shrugged, teasing.

"You’re like my favorite wine. Complicated, intense, and with a taste that leaves you wanting more."

Sarah laughed, but her heart was beating faster than she’d like to admit.

There they were. From such different worlds, with such opposite lives. But more tangled with each passing moment. In the midst of word games, teasing, and silences that said everything, something was growing without a name.

Something only they could understand.

"But you’re still so much younger."

Jobe’s eyes widened, his tone playful, but his ego clearly touched.

"Wait. Are you calling me a kid?"

“No-no. I just said that… there’s a big difference.” She raised her hands, nervously laughing. She tried to appear calm, but the half-choked laugh and the fleeting look gave everything away. Jobe crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly, as if studying her. “Eight years isn’t a lot. My parents have a seven-year difference.” Sarah let out a laugh, shaking her head as if she didn’t believe it. “Your parents, Jobe. Eight years is enough time for…” she paused, thinking quickly, “for a kid to learn how to write. And read. And maybe even write... a little book.” He let out a deep laugh, the kind that vibrates in your chest. “And enough time for you to learn English and not use the translator with me anymore, so I think it’s fair.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re trying to get out of this conversation.” He didn’t force the tone, but there was something more there. A lingering look. A way of holding her in the conversation with just his eyes. Sarah tried to look away, quickly checking her phone – but it didn’t go unnoticed. Notifications popped up on the screen: hurried emojis, “let’s go” in all caps, videos being sent. She sighed. “I really have to go now. Before my friends… come pick me up.” Jobe nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. As if every second of silence was an attempt to make her change her mind. “Good luck,” he said softly.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, confused, but with a teasing smile on her lips. “With what?” Jobe grinned crookedly. The kind of smile that knew exactly the effect it had. “With… not thinking about me the whole night.”

Sarah let out a short laugh, more out of nervousness than anything else. She shook her head, trying to maintain control of her expression.

“You have an answer for everything, huh?”

He just looked at her. Smiling, yes, but less than before. As if he were a step away from saying something he shouldn’t.

One second of silence.

Two.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to ask her to stay. To call again later. To not leave him alone with that unfinished conversation.

But he didn’t say it.

He just nodded slowly. As if he understood that some desires don’t fit at the wrong time.

“Good night, Sarah.”

She paused for a moment. His saying her name seemed slower. More intentional.

Maybe she was imagining it, but… it hurt more than it should to say goodbye like this.

“Good night, Jobe.”

The call ended.

But Sarah stayed there.

With the phone still in her hand, the black screen reflecting the soft glow of the bedside lamp. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just let the weight of the silence fall over her like a blanket that, instead of warming, pressed on her chest.

The laughter still danced on her lips, but it was already an echo. Her heart was beating too fast for someone who had only had a conversation.

Or at least, that’s what she tried to repeat in her mind – “It was just a conversation.”

But it wasn’t.

Not when he said things like “good luck not thinking about me” with that look.

Not when every pause carried more than the words.

Not when the time between the messages turned into a whole call. And she, even with her friends waiting, didn’t want to leave.

There was something there.

Something between discomfort and desire.

Between doubt and the urge to stay.

She ran her hand over her face, laughing at herself for being ridiculous.

Why did this feel more intense than it should?

He was younger. Famous. Beautiful.

And yet, he seemed so close. So… accessible when he spoke to her that way.

But what if he was just being kind? Or joking?

She had fooled herself before. She had mistaken attention for intent. And she didn’t want to do that again. But the way he said “good night”...

As if he wanted to say “stay.” Or “come back.”

In Sunderland, Jobe was the same. Sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on nothing. The phone still in his hand, but already without purpose. The room was dark, but he didn’t move to turn off the TV or arrange the pillows. He didn’t know how to explain it. He only knew he missed her even when she was still there. As if every second further away was wasted time.

It was stupid.

They barely knew each other.

But there was something familiar about Sarah that unsettled him. As if he already knew who she was without ever really knowing her.

Her laugh, her eyes trying to keep up with his too-fast English, the way she struggled to keep the conversation going but still teased him — all of it was like a background song he couldn’t get out of his head.

Jobe closed his eyes for a moment, resting his head against the wall.

Maybe it was just loneliness. Or the fact that she didn’t treat him like everyone else. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, as if she were seeing inside and not just the outside. But whatever it was…

He didn’t want it to be over.

Not yet.

And on the other side, in a room miles away, Sarah felt the same. With the phone trapped between her hands, as if it might ring again at any second.

And maybe, if one of them had had the courage… It would have.

But for now, all that was left was the silence.

And the longing for more.

Because, even separated by miles, some part of them stayed there.

Trapped in that call, that laugh, that look.

Trapped in the moment.

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

If you want to join the tag, let me know. Until next time 💋

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avionvadion · 1 month ago

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All the OCS for Once Upon A Dream in one place! Save for little Selena... who I honestly forgot until I was typing Poma's little fun facts. And... Diane. But Diane doesn't go to any schools, and neither does Selena (baby girl has a home tutor and a nanny) so... hrm.

I'm still cackling at the fact the Tangled event was in the library of all places. But anyways!

Crystalynn Ashworth and Hazel Woods attend Rose Blade Academy. Maxine (Max) Maddison attends Twilight Bastion. Eleanora, Wynter, and Veronica attend Night Raven College. Castiel, Luca, and Kusi attend Royal Sword Academy.

Veronica originally attended RSA (using her Unique Magic to disguise herself) but transfers to NRC after the Glorious Masquerade event for reasons that have already been explained in a different post, lol.

Veronica is paired with Trey, Hazel is paired with Silver (it was too funny to pass up) and Crystalynn is paired with Sebek. (I get to alter Cassius' design now, hehehehee). Maxine is Kusi's childhood friend, but they're purely sibling-coded. Also, Kusiñawi is bisexual, while Argus is my sweet sweet aroace baby. (I had to make him a bit younger than originally planned for more Divus vs Argus shenanigans) Kusi also lives with Divus and Poma outside of school, as he ran away from home due to a fight with his parents.

Zaahira Ali is the fourth princess and daughter of the great Sultana Aaliyah, the one most likely to inherit the throne, and while she does not attend any academies, instead having several tutors assigned specifically to her- all for general education, royal education, and magical education, she does meet Eleanora and Kalim when all three of them are abducted around the same time because people had it out for her, for Kalim, and... not so much Eleanora, as she was just taken as leverage to use against Kalim in case he tried to fight back as the two were both in town shopping at the time.

(I tried really hard with Zaahira's outfit, but there's a lot I don't know and may have misinterpreted, so T_T I'm gonna go ahead and apologize if I messed up in any way.)

Kora Garner is @winterspellsfrozenkit's OC. She'll be showing up shortly before Malleus' Overblot, but she doesn't actually meet Eleanora and Idia until after he's stopped. There will be hints about her existence though, before then. If you have any questions about Kora and want to know more about her, send some asks Winter's way! :3

Images without the words (just 'cause it can look kinda clunky) below!

#twisted wonderland #twst #eleanora quince #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #how many ocs can one woman have???? NOT ENOUGH EVIDENTLY #twst fanfic #once upon a dream

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firewall000 · 2 months ago

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About the whole tiredsn0w situation…

I have recently been made aware of this whole situation in which tiredsn0ws essentially getting harassed. As a close friends of hers, I feel obligated to say something, however I won't reveal my identity for my own sanity.

Most of the matter I will be commenting on stems from @sneakysnekbetch ‘s blog.

CW for mentions/discussions of bullying, fetishisation, sexualisation, racism, pedophilia etc.

I didn’t scroll as far on the blog, so the screenshot order will be what is newest.

First of all, sn0w has acknowledged that the drawing may come off as sexual but is not drawn to be. I can see how it’s uncomfortable but at the end of the day, the artist didn’t intend for it to be weird. You can find it weird, but wouldn’t you say the person who made the work knows more about it than you? Rhetorical.

Second of all, to address the third and fourth image added in the first screenshot: it is so incredibly important to note that SCP-049 has BPD in this canon. He is heavily inspired by someone with BPD who Snow knows herself. The fixation/dependency/obsession that comes with having an FP is not weird just because it is platonic or familial-adjacent. Same for the last image. One of the tags was quite literally, ‘don’t tag as ship’, meaning it isn’t romantic:

Saying you ‘need someone’ is not an inherently sexual thing.

(Referring to third image, as its been cut off)

The problem with all your claims is that you leave out a shit ton of context and exaggerate what you do present.

What is depicted in the screenshot is not a tantrum, but a personal opinion that was phrased in a rather long way. Someone being non-sharing or not wanting to interact with ships is perfectly fine. I myself block SCP-049 x OC/SCP-035 shippers because it makes me uncomfortable. Likewise, this is just someone stating a boundary. Oh no! This person doesn’t like to see ships! Because of personal discomfort!

Not to mention that Sn0ws discomfort with SCP-049 x SCP-035 stems from the fact it creates personal distress with her and, in canon, is considered abusive (See: That’s not love, Isabel.)

This isn’t bullying. Unless you provide contextually relevant details, it won’t be bullying.

Obviously, even if it isn’t bullying, it is still perfectly valid to feel upset from getting comments that aren’t 100% supportive of something you create. I’ve been there myself, but to call it bullying is wrong.

Instead, that entire response just seems constructive.

Again, this doesn’t seem butthurt, rather just clarifying? You just love to blow things out of proportion, Snek.

Also, it is SO ironic how you talk about ‘’Multiple canons’, yet you’re the person who complains about SCP-049 acting a certain way in one canon?

We also see SCP-049 being extremely paranoid and obsessive with his ideals in the article. you know what else? We also only see a bit of his character in the article. There are many ways to flesh out SCP-049s character and lore. Not everything has to be article-accurate. Especially because the entire deal with the SCP: Foundation is that there is no true canon. Go figure.

Overall, I agree with anon.

I agree that the first and latter image are odd, but those are incredibly old and also have been deleted for a good reason. The BBC one… yeah, extremely uncomfortable and weird. Again, deleted for a good fucking reason. Do I think an apology would have done better? Yeah. But still, deleted for good reason.

The second drawing, however… is just not sexual at all? Seriously, so many of your arguments boil down to, “I THINK IT IS SEXUAL EVEN THOUGH IT ISN’T!” and it is so embarrassing. So much of SCP-6118s character revolves around mental illness (that the author also has), so why are you so upset that mental illness is depicted realistically and, by proxy, uncomfortably? Get over it.

I will reiterate my point— the artist knows their own work better than yourself. But you don’t seem to understand that concept, as shown here:

(full art for context)

Again, that art is not sexual at all. It is someone in restraints. A soldier, no less. Restraints are so commonly used in non-sexual ways in literally so much media. You’d know if you stepped outside of spaces that portray such things as sexual.. Same with objectification. It is almost like soldiers are seen as living weapons rather than humans. You know, almost like they are being objectified.

It is almost like Sn0ws writing is literal psychological horror and focuses on the consequences of abuse, mental illness and the like.

Seriously, this one in particular is a you problem. It is no one’s fault but your own if the first thing you think of is sexual stuff. Actually embarrassing.

You can so absolutely find a song choice weird, but again, Sn0w said she explained her intent with the drawing SEVERAL times. Not to mention that it is so incredibly common to interpret songs that are romantic or sexual in a completely different/platonic way. Trying to explain to someone what THEY meant when THEY made THEIR work is so cringe.

For context, this is the drawing:

Stressing on the phrasing of ‘lyric(s)’. A lyric. Some lines. Not the entire song.

’Most of the work form her friends is just smut’, yeah, here is tiredsn0ws opinion on said work:

It is almost like a ton changes in a whole year and that there is a reason Sn0w distances herself from her old work and chose to rewrite it. Not to mention that sn0w has said the opposite about infantilisation of SCP-6118:

She has expressed cringe and discomfort for most of her old works.

Key word: teenage. One makes and does things that are incredibly weird and uncomfortable and regrets them later on during teenhood. Sn0w has drastically changed since her old works. Here is a full overview of her thoughts regarding her old works:

Also, pointer: SCP-6118 is asexual and aromantic, not gay. Tiredsn0ws version of SCP-049 is asexual and aromantic. Tiredsn0w herself is asexual and aromantic. Aromanticism is very present in her new work. To add onto my point about SCP-6118 being SCP-049s FP (taken from rev. 10 from the scp sandbox) and their relationship being not-romantic:

Actually, none of her characters dynamics are written to be romantic:

I just had to save this one for last. Do you know how absolutely fucked up it is to compare someone to a literal fucking pedophile? A groomer? Snek, you literally forced Sn0w to reveal extremely personal and traumatic details just for her to prove she isn’t, but you don’t care about that and instead keep persisting, and for what? I will not share screenshots out of respect for sn0w, but you know very well. You should be ashamed of yourself.

In conclusion, most of this boils down to people not understanding aromanticism and personality disorders in writing and making up their own interpretations of what someone meant with their work while also invading their privacy. There is a severe lack in understanding of actual story and thought process. Her work is not intended for a general audience and instead for people with mental illness and those willing to sympathize with the grimmer aspects of it.

And also, to Snek: your arguments are not constructive, they are contextually spotty and so chronically online it makes my head hurt. Your weird usage of condescending titles (i.e. babygirl, bro, etc) aren’t cool or a good ‘got-cha’, it is incredibly uncomfortable and cringe to see. Do some internal insight on why you perceive so many things as fetishistic or sexual, because at this point, it is literally just a you problem. Do better.

Also, a note about something tiredsn0w (and I, minimally) have noticed:

Micro aggressions are not okay, Snek. And neither are ignorance and performative actions.

And lastly— leave tiredsn0w alone. I block people who I think are weird also. The block button is right there, it’s free and it is available for a reason. If I can do it, so can you.

As per my personal opinion, I think that if someone has expressed distaste for their old work and wishes to disconnect themselves from it, then that is okay and should not be held over their head. The artist knows their work better than others. Even when intent is explained, it goes in on one ear and out on the other.

#Tiredsn0w #Tw fetishisation #Cw fetishisation #cw adminbright ment #Cw sexualisation #Tw sexualisation #Tw harassment #cw harassment #tw bullying ment #cw bullying ment

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biocrafthero · 5 months ago

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Project Sekai - White Day AU Card Lore/Story Masterpost

In other words: I've become obsessed with a very niche part of this game for no discernible reason and have decided to make my gathered knowledge into a post...

NOTE: This post was written before the 2025 White Day event, so some parts may be missing information or incorrect. All information being referenced comes from the Sekaipedia fan wiki.

(I have decided to put this under a Read More because this is so ungodly lengthy that it has taken actual hours for me to write. I hit the image limit on browser, which is 30. If I didn't put this under a Read More I would've been killed with hammers.)

What is White Day AU?

White Day AU is based off of a series of cards that began releasing in 2022 with the White Day event titled "The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!?". While at first it may seem like a case of colopale putting the characters in a fun setting with cool outfits, it has become more and more apparent that, with the more White Day events that release, the more this universe is getting expanded upon.

I spent some time last month going over the cards that have released over the course of four separate events, pouring over details in the characters' outfits and the environments that surround them in the illustrations in an attempt to parse what kind of story colopale seems to be telling with these cards.

The events/gachas that all contain White Day AU cards are as follows:

The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!? - Knights of White

Never Give Up Cooking! - Imperial Soldiers

Relax Teatime - What Awaits at the End of War

The Power Of Regret - Noble Knights Fighting for Supremacy

While it may seem odd that a non-White Day event/gacha is here, it may be due to colopale making the decision to start releasing White Day AU lore outside of White Day events in order to ensure they can make at least one card for every major character (both OCs and vocaloids) before the game reaches the end of it's story.

The characters currently missing cards are...

Honami (Leo/need)

Shizuku (MORE MORE JUMP!)

Haruka (MORE MORE JUMP!)

An (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

Kohane (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

Ena (Nightcord at 25:00)

Rin (Virtual Singer)

Luka (Virtual Singer)

MEIKO (Virtual Singer)

It is difficult to guess who would be in which faction (more on that below) due to the fact that, regardless of unit or relationships, it is not uncommon for people to be split between factions even if logically they should've been paired together in the same faction.

White Day AU Lore

The setting of the White Day AU is most likely fantasy, due to the medieval aesthetics and fantastical elements like magic and dragons. Something interesting as well is that there seem to be factions--different groups each of the characters belong to--that may be hinting at a conflict between members of the cast.

There are multiple factions to be aware of:

The Knights of White

The Empire

An unnamed third faction

An unnamed fourth faction

I will go over each faction in this order. They can be distinguished from each other through multiple things such as the emblems they wear, the colored gemstones on their outfits, and the color palettes of their uniforms. These things all work in conjunction with one another to show who is allied with who.

The Knights of White

The Knights of White, which I will refer to as the Knights, is one of two primary factions in the White Day AU. Known characters who are currently part of the Knights are...

Tsukasa (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Akito (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

Shiho (Leo/need)

Len (Virtual Singer)

Nene (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Emu (Wonderlands x Showtime)

The Knights are distinguished from the other members of the cast by the eight-pointed star as their faction's crest and uniforms that comprise almost entirely of white, blue, and gold.

The Empire

The Empire, which I also tend to refer to as the Imperials (even though grammatically that is incorrect it just sounds better LMAO) is the second primary faction in the White Day AU. Known characters who are part of the Empire are...

Toya (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

Rui (Wonderlands x Showtime)

KAITO (Virtual Singer)

Miku (Virtual Singer)

Saki (Leo/need)

Imperial outfits tend to comprise of the colors black, red, and gold. Their crest is of a dragon, likely in reference to the dragon in Toya's card. Their outfits also all include a red gemstone of some kind, a gemstone color that is exclusive to this faction.

It should be noted that Rui's Imperial outfit does not include a dragon crest and instead has the eight-pointed star of the Knights. Additionally, Toya's outfit has a rose on it, which you may have noticed is something that appears on the outfits of other characters from other factions. I will come back to these two points later.

From here, we get to the secondary factions of the AU.

Unnamed Third Faction

Third Faction is currently only comprised of two members:

Kanade (Nightcord at 25:00)

Mafuyu (Nightcord at 25:00)

Third Faction does not seem to have a set color palette (the colors that the two share are blue and gold), but they do have a unique emblem: the four-pointed star. While Mafuyu's emblem is visible in her illustration, Kanade's emblem is viewable on her 3D model. Additionally, despite the emblem having similarity to the Knight's emblem, both of them wear the same distinctive red gemstones that the Imperials wear on their outfits.

These details in conjunction lead me to believe that the role of Third is either as a middle-ground or mediating party between the Knights and Imperials.

Unnamed Fourth Faction

Fourth Faction currently only comprises of two members:

Minori (MORE MORE JUMP!)

Airi (MORE MORE JUMP!)

The faction's color palette likely comprises largely of blue/green, red, white, and gold. Their crest is of four lozenges with a circle in the center. Their colors and crest are distinct from all other factions, meaning they are likely working independently and without the influence of the other factions.

Unknown Alliances

Mizuki (Nightcord at 25:00)

Mizuki's outfit does not appear to hold any similarities to the other factions currently present, her palette consisting of white, blue, and silver. While it does hold similarities to the Knights, the outfit that comes with her card includes a heart-shaped emblem both on the outfit and accessory. However, this could mean nothing, as the outfits that Akito and Tsukasa have from this same set do not include Knights emblems on their accessories.

Ichika (Leo/need)

Ichika's current alliance also remains unclear. Her outfit's color palette consists of white, red, and gold, which does not resemble any of the other factions. Her crest is likely the piece of her outfit that resembles a fleur-de-lis with a gemstone in the center. There are some details from a different card (the upper-left corner of the background in Len's 4* from the "The Power Of Regret" event) that may support her being part of a full-fledged faction, but due to other characters lacking this emblem she is currently seen as independent.

There is the possibility that Ichika and Mizuki are actually part of the same faction, but this lacks concrete evidence. For the sake of the argument though, I will mention that not long ago when I was looking over the details of the cards, the crests on their outfits struck me as suspiciously similar in shape (supported by the banners in the upper-right in the background in Mizuki's card). Still, this theory is shaky at best.

And yes, I made sure to check that Mizuki's banners and Ichika's crest do not resemble the background of the "Knights of White" gacha.

White Day AU Story

This is where we start getting into the nitty-gritty of details in the AU, aside from just talking about the factions. That was an important precursor of information to everything else this post talks about.

Meaning of Roses

My suspicion is that the roses represent nobility. Characters with roses present on their outfits are as follows:

Tsukasa (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Akito (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

Mizuki (Nightcord at 25:00)

Shiho (Leo/need)

Len (Virtual Singer)

Toya (Vivid BAD SQUAD)

At first, it was my assumption that those who wear roses are--or were at one point--allied or part of the Knights. However, upon further inspection of the logo for the "Imperial Soldiers" gacha, roses are not exclusive to the Knights faction.

If roses were associated with the Knights, why would it not only be part of Toya's outfit but also included in the "Imperial Soldiers" gacha logo?

Looking at each of the characters who have been seen with the rose on their uniforms and comparing these characters to their canon counterparts from the base game of Project Sekai (aside from Len, sorry Len), these characters being nobility would check out considering their personal histories in canon.

The Royal Guard

This is where we start getting to the most story-filled cards that colopale as released so far.

This unit of characters, which I have personally been referring to as the royal guard, consist of the following:

Nene (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Emu (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Len (Virtual Singer)

Tsukasa (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Rui (Wonderlands x Showtime)

Notably, (almost) all of the characters here are from the canon unit Wonderlands x Showtime, which is likely due to the fact that the event they come from, "The Power Of Regret," is a Wonderlands x Showtime story event (specifically Nene focus). It is because of the fact we got all of Wonderlands x Showtime in this card drop we get the most story, since we have three returning characters.

The royal guard uniforms have the Knights emblem and color palette, clearly displaying the fact that they are a part of that faction. The most distinct parts of their uniforms are their crown-shaped belt buckles, the crown on the back of their gloves, and the shield with a crown engraved on it that they wear as a brooch. Their outfits even have gemstones that correspond with their character colors that we see in-game, which to me only emphasizes their status as high-ranking knights.

Earlier, I pointed out how Rui has the Knights emblem on his Imperial outfit, despite noticeably not being part of the Knights. This is likely because, at some point between these cards and the cards from the "Never Give Up Cooking!" event, Rui deserted from the Knights to join the Empire.

An assumption could be made that the cards are being released in chronological order, however I disagree. Rui would be more likely to defect from the Knights but still carry their emblem with him when he joins the Imperials, rather than holding a connection with the Knights before deserting from the Imperials to join the other side. It is unclear why he would leave the Knights, but I personally believe it may have something to do with the fact that in his 4* from "Never Give Up Cooking!" he is a magic user, while here in the "The Power Of Regret" cards he is not. In other words, I think he joined the Imperials so he could use magic.

This causes the other cards of characters who were part of the royal guard to have very interesting additional information. Tsukasa likely went up in ranking from royal guard to something else entirely, based off of how his 4* from "The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!?" event has him in a much more regal outfit.

While it is unclear what happened to Len, it should be noted that his 2* from "The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!?" event is named "Innocent Squire", so maybe something also transpired with his character to lead to his change in position.

There is some speculation among people I discuss these cards with about what exactly Nene and Emu are doing in their cards, but we highly suspect they are actually fighting each other. The tears in Nene's eyes and Emu's determined expression imply that there may be some kind of heartache occurring during whatever clash they're involved in, which would be most likely to happen if the two of them were in combat against one another. The backgrounds of their cards match up well enough to suggest that they are in the same space, as well.

It is unclear what exactly the two of them are fighting about, but it is of my own personal belief that the conflict between them has to do with Rui's desertion from the Knights. It is realistically the only thing I can think of that could possibly push these two into conflict with one another.

It can also be assumed that after Rui's desertion, the royal guard subsequently dissolved since they make no other appearances outside of this set of cards.

It is unclear what Tsukasa and Len are doing in their cards, but they also appear to be in the same location as one another.

Toya's Dragon

In a blog post by colopale, they refer to the dragon as his "aibou" (partner). While it may seem like they're drawing parallels between the dragon and Akito (considering the fact that Akito and Toya are partners in canon), I don't think that Akito is supposed to be the dragon considering the differing allegiances. I think the dragon is just Toya's friend :)

Separated Tenmas

Saki and Tsukasa seem to be on two entirely different sides of the war--the Empire and the Knights respectively. While it remains unclear as to why they're on opposing sides, maybe something happened between them that caused this divide...

Leo/need in Conflict?!

Other than the fact that Saki is a member of the Imperial Army, I'm very curious about what's happening in Shiho and Ichika's cards. Based off of the backgrounds, and while it doesn't look like it at first, they appear to be in the same location. You can see in the background of Ichika's card, on the other side of the courtyard, you can see a set of windows that are the same shape as the windows light is being cast through in Shiho's card. Assuming the courtyard is symmetrical, you can reasonably guess they're in the same hall. Additionally, the pillars appear to be similar at the very least. If they're fighting, I wonder what its about?

Details about the outfit names...

I want to take a moment to talk about outfit names for each of the characters since I couldn't find anywhere else to talk about this. I will be dividing these by the event/gacha they were released in.

The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!? - Knights of White:

Tsukasa - Chivalrous Chevalier

Akito - Noble Paladin

Mizuki - Optatio Eques

None of these are exactly notable aside from the name of Mizuki's outfit. The name translates from Latin to "Knight's Choice" (machine translation), which adds some information to her character that, while I have trouble parsing due to the lack of information about her whole deal in this AU, I still find interesting.

Also note that the world "chevalier" just means "knight" in French.

Never Give Up Cooking! - Imperial Soldiers:

Toya - Chevalier Noir

Rui - Mad Sorcerer

KAITO - Wandering Gunner

KAITO's outfit name is intriguing to me and leads me to believe he may be more of a mercenary type of character rather than someone who is absolutely loyal to the Empire.

Relax Teatime - What Awaits at the End of War:

Kanade - Fleeting Light Knight Attire

Ichika - Illuminated Courtyard Knight Attire

Mafuyu - Abyss Knight Attire

There's not much of note here, but I am of the personal belief that Kanade and Mafuyu are matching.

The Power Of Regret - Noble Knights Fighting for Supremacy:

Nene - Fier Chevalier

Emu - Sourire Chevalier

Len - Hability Chevalier

Two of the names here are French. Nene's translates to "Proud knight" and Emu's to "Smile Knight" (both machine translated). Len's name means "Able Knight" (could also be read as "Skillful Knight"), the word "habile" just being an obsolete form of the word "able."

My personal thoughts...

I just know the AkiToya divorce is insane. Couldn't be as dramatic as whatever L/n and WxS are going through right now tho tbh... At least it looks like KanaMafu and MMJ are having fun times in yuri land

Also in the next White Day AU card drop if Ena isn't part of the Knights faction I'm gonna--[remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health]--I'm gonna surpass RAD WEEKEND

Why does KAITO have a gun btw???? Maybe its magic idk

#rambles #project sekai #this is my most normal post of all time #my writing #<- BECAUSE IT MIGHT AS WELL BE.#i need to sleep now I stayed up for actual hours putting this together

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thatonecrookedsmile · 7 months ago

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I decided to finally color and post this thing I made a few months ago since we're getting close to BATDR's anniversary.

Consider this a fun concept based on a few things at the very least,or a Headcanon Based On Nothing At All at most. The "basis" for this comes from the fact that the Keepers' body and head are some kind of suit, with the zipper and "lens" being the most notable details of this. Which I found interesting.

Now,could the fact that they look like suits just be a side effect of them being offshots of the Machine? Yeah,yes it could. At the end of the day,the fact that they look like that can only be summed up as "they were created that way". Wilson just accidentally created cool-looking OCs. I doubt we'll get any kind of lore drop for the Keepers in the future beyond what we already know about them (but I could always be wrong).

The moment of inspiration that led me to do these sketches was when I was reading FTB and I was thinking about Gent and their experiments for a bit. The Keepers ended up getting into those thoughts at some point,which resulted in me doing… this!

So,yeah,what if the Keepers, before the Dark Revival,were old GENT containment suits?

Essentially,in my head,when JDS closed its doors,Gent continued the ink experiments in its own workshop,and the suits above were worn by the company's scientists while conducting some of these experiments. While we don't know what else the guys at Gent were doing beyond what we saw in BATDR and FTB,I don't think it's far-fetched to say that not even their scientists would want to touch the damned ink,which,as we know,is best kept away from. So,the suits are used.

In 1952,the workshop was condemned and closed. Eventually,the location and by extension - the technologies,the experiments and things like the suits - ended up in the Ink Realm. Fast forward to 72/73,the whole thing about Wilson finding out and taking control of the Cycle happens. When it came to creating his own "guards" to help with his plans in the Cycle,I guess he just. Took stuff from the Gent workshop like the suits and other stuff like gears and pipes,threw it all through the Ink Machine and uhhhhhhh,boom,the Keepers are created.

Again,I wouldn't take this as a serious theory/speculation,and as said,more as ideas and concepts based on so little that I decided to put on paper. (Might as well consider all of this potential AU stuff)

Additional stuff:

- I didn't make the outlines and the helmet's lens glow in the first 2 sketches because I realized that it wouldn't make much sense in the suits? The Keepers,sure,make sense,but for the suits themselves? Not so much. So I left them "switched off",with the exception of the third sketch,done at the time when I hadn't thought about this detail any further.

- The idea for the fourth sketch,the gas mask,came to me while looking at reference images of real-life hazmat suits. I thought it might be intriguing to have Gent scientists wear these masks under their suits,so I sketched it out to get a better idea. The mask itself was based on one of the scrapped Keeper designs, the ones that had the more "alien" feel to them. I don't know if it would fit inside the Keeper suit,but it's still something I wanted to consider.

I also like this whole concept of the suits for two other reasons. First, it gives the Keepers an origin that predates Wilson and the Dark Revival. Second, reusing old Gent suits to create his own guards isn't that far-fetched for a man whose entire rise to power within the studio and plan to overthrow the Ink Demon has depended on the work (and existence) of others to come to fruition. So that wouldn't be so absurd.

Also,here's 2 bonus sketches. The second one has nothing to do with what I've said so far, it's just something I was playing around with at the time.

#batdr #bendy and the dark revival #batim #bendy and the ink machine #the keepers #batdr keepers #kind of;;;#the lost ones #crookedsmileart #technically; this is my first drawing of the Keepers that I've posted here #which is kind of funny #they're one of my favorite aspects of DR; you'd think I'd have drawn them before #I mean; I've had plans to draw them; but you know how it is #you have 100 ideas for drawings; and in the end you only do 5 of them; fuuunnnnnnn

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simplyyspring · 29 days ago

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Memories

Liam Mairi x Fem!OC, Xaden Riorson x Fem!OC (platonic)

Summary: Genevieve Tavis has lost the most important person in her life and her older brother's best friend, Xaden, attempts to help her through her grief.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! smut, death, grief, angst, hurt (with comfort), me not knowing how to properly portray Xaden. FOURTH WING SPOILERS, please don't read if you haven't read the first book I will not be responsible for the emotional damage.

Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is not the first fic I have ever written but it IS the first fic I've ever posted. I already rewrote it because I hated the first version, and the only proofreading that this version has received is grammarly spell/grammar check so bear with me! This fic was inspired by @saintsanddevils "Unravel Me" fic so please read that as well, it's amazing! I've debated expanding on Gen's story but have not decided, please do tell me if you'd like to see that! Anyways, let's get into all the angst (I did cry a few times writing this).

fourth wing masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰✰

The sky has an orange hue as I sit on a ledge outside the Riorson house. My eyes study the waves of hills and rigid peaks of mountains in the distance — this has always been one of my favorite views. I grew familiar with it from all the summers I’d spent here while my brother visited his best friend. I catch the scent of pine trees in the wind, and the familiar rustle of the grass beneath gives a sense of nostalgia. It almost brings a smile to my face. Almost.

My hand finds the small wooden sculpture of Eilidh that Liam had whittled months ago in the pocket of my flight jacket. He had done it for everyone, but Eilidh was his first — likely because she had let him close enough to truly study her. Of course she had. She had a soft spot for Liam, though she was reluctant to voice it often. She understood our connection long before anyone else. Eilidh’s grief when Deigh died wasn’t just for him — it was for his rider as well.

I pull the sculpture out of my pocket, my thumb brushing over the details as I study the shape of Eilidh — one I know like the back of my hand. When he had given the sculpture to me, I didn’t know what to say. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had given me — the kindest thing a person had done for me. Although I can go outside and see her whenever I please, there was something intimate about somebody turning the most important being in my life into a piece of art. I feel a knot building in my throat as the memory floods back, my eyes beginning to well with tears.

“I made you something.”

Liam’s voice brought me out of my studying trance, causing me to look up at him. He was fiddling with something in his hands — a piece of wood? Some sort of sculpture? And he looked… nervous? I raised a brow as he handed the sculpture over to me. I took the piece, studying it for a moment. My heart nearly stopped as I recognized the features.

The wood was rough — almost as if it was supposed to represent her scales. It painted an image of her mid-flight, her wings spread wide. He must have seen her from a distance, or maybe during flight maneuvers and gotten the idea. And he’d gone through with it. Butterflies began to flutter in my stomach.

“It’s Eilidh,” he said, sheepish.

I met his gaze, trying to find the words to say. My mouth opened, then closed — no words came out. Nobody had ever done something so personal for me. His smile faltered for a moment, and my heart almost stopped once again as I noticed his confidence starting to slip.

“I love it,” The words were rushed as they left my lips. My ears heated with embarrassment but I managed to ignore it.

“You do?” Liam let out a breathy sound that sounded suspiciously like relief.

I nodded as my gaze fell back down to the sculpture, a small smile forming on my lips. “I think she’d love it too.”

“It’s alright, I suppose.” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head, her tone playful. I let out a soft laugh.

“She said she loves it,” I could almost hear her eyes rolling.

I pocketed the sculpture and glanced back up at Liam. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I didn’t know what else to say. My feelings were all over the place — and I was never good at voicing those. Rejection and I had become good friends, but that was against my will.

“You think he’s beautiful,” Eilidh’s teasing tone echoed once again. The heat from my ears began to spread to my face. She wasn’t necessarily wrong… but that’s not the point. Either Liam didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it — thankfully.

“Of course. And tell her I said thank you,” Liam said with a grin that made my heart skip a beat, settling into the seat beside me. His knee brushed against mine, the butterflies going wild now. “I just… I like doing things for other people, and she’s always been nice to me. She never threatens to scorch me when I get too close.”

“Not that you know of.” The corner of my lips tugged upwards.

“Noted,” A small laugh escaped his lips. He was quiet for a moment, then, “Do you need any help?” His gaze flickered down toward the books in front of me, then back up at me.

I stared at him for a moment, my brain slowly processing his question. It happened often — I short circuited whenever he was around. I didn’t really need his help, but who was I to deny myself the pleasure of his company? “I’d love some help.”

Liam scooted closer, the scent of oak and leather filling my senses. My lips tugged up into a smile again as we began studying together.

The soft crunch of footsteps pulls me back to the present, the weight of the past few days settling into my bones. I don’t look up. There are very few people who would venture out to find me — even fewer who would know where to find me. Sure, I have quite a group of friends, but they know I’m typically fine after some time to myself. Something tells me this time is different.

My gaze finally lifts toward the large figure as they drop onto the ledge beside me. I’m half surprised that it’s not my brother, Garrick, but his best friend that takes the space. I study him for a moment. He’s dressed more relaxed than usual, but his muscles are still tense. I fully expected him to be occupied, considering the woman he loves is inside, healing. But he’s right here. Making sure I’m okay. I suppose she hasn’t woken up yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Xaden’s voice breaks the silence as his dark eyes meet mine. The silence stretches once again. Do I want to talk to him about this? Should I? There was a point in time where the simple thought of him brought a blush to my face. He’s Garrick’s best friend, which means Garrick found him decent enough to be close to him. We’d grown up with him, after all. He’s always been so passionate — and that passion shines through in everything he does. Even now, a leader of a revolution, it’s hard not to be drawn to him. But this is a vulnerable topic. It’s not often that I voice my feelings.

“He’s really gone.” I try to tame the shake in my voice before the words leave my lips but I don’t have any success. Xaden tenses beside me, clenching his jaw, and I look back toward the mountains. He and Liam had been placed in the same foster home — he’d trained him and watched him grow. He’d helped turn him into the boy I fell in love with.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” He cuts me off. “If that’s what you need to talk about… then we’ll talk.” He gives me a nod before going quiet. I don’t break the silence. I don’t know what to say. I know he’s doing the same thing I am — studying the view, taking it in. I know he misses it more than any of us, and that, on top of the grief of losing his brother… Gods, I can’t imagine what he’s feeling.

I look at him again, and his eyes find mine. The typical glare they usually hold is missing, replaced by something softer and kinder. I see it often. He’s always had a soft spot for me, though he never outright admits it.

“Gen…” Xaden’s voice is soft, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for the words to say. “You loved him… didn’t you?” The words feel like a punch to the gut. I haven’t spoken much about my feelings — certainly not with Garrick or Xaden, and certainly not with Liam himself. I’ve wanted to, but the words get stuck in my throat any time I start.

“I…” My voice trails off. There they go, getting stuck again. Part of me wants to deny it, keep it for myself, and hold on to the feeling of being in love for the life of me. My heart has been ripped to shreds, and the only person who could mend it isn’t here. Tears begin to brim my eyes as my gaze falls back on the scenery ahead. Xaden is silent, which isn’t unusual, but I know he’s waiting for me to continue.

“I never got to tell him…” I finally whisper, my voice cracking ever so slightly. I’ve never been one to show much emotion, but recently, I haven’t had much control. I’ve been distancing myself, knowing I’ll either lash out or break down if anyone gets too close. My jaw clenches as my vision begins to blur. “... How I felt, what I thought of him. How much I appreciate him. How much I appreciate everything he’s done for me.” I shake my head, attempting to blink away the tears, but the action only causes a few of them to stream down my cheeks.

“He knows.” The older boy nods, certainty bleeding through his tone. “He knows all of it now… and I’d bet quite a bit of gold that he felt the same.” A very small smile touches his lips as my eyes find him again. I don’t understand how he can seem so… fine after everything that’s happened. We’d been set up to die. Violet almost died. Liam did die. Xaden’s ability to be the calm in the storm will always be something I admire; it’s always drawn me to him. Sometimes, he used that ability to his advantage. He can be deadly when he truly wants to be.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask softly, my eyes catching on the scar on his brow for a moment, admiring it. Although the feelings I once had are no longer there, I can’t deny how attractive he is. “I haven’t really been able to… talk about anything with anyone.” More like I haven’t tried to.

Xaden leans back on his hands, keeping his eyes on me as he nods, urging me to continue. I’m sure he knows all the information I’m about to spew at him, but it’ll be nice to finally let something out for once.

My gaze lingers on him for a moment before I lick my lips and continue, “Before him, I thought I already knew what love was.” My voice goes quieter as my eyes fall to my lap, and I start to fiddle with my fingers. “I thought a… childhood crush was love. I thought it was everything I’d been looking for. I thought I was completely screwed because the man I supposedly loved saw me as nothing more than a little sister.” My eyes dart toward him as I hear him snicker, watching as he shakes his head, giving me a knowing look.

“I’m not an idiot, Tavis.” I raise a brow, ready to argue against that statement, but he continues, “And before you get defensive, I’m not judging. I would never judge you. I knew for longer than you think I did.” Xaden’s eyes leave mine, shaking his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say next. “Just because feelings aren’t… reciprocated… doesn’t mean they’re not real. It may not have been love in the sense that you know it now, but it was still an experience.” He finally finishes, giving me a slight nod.

My eyes narrow for a moment as I listen to what he says, then I shake my head. “Okay, thanks.” I nod, “But that’s not the point.” I speak slowly, a little baffled by his response, then continue, “The point is that I felt much stronger things for him.” Liam and I had been friends before going into the Rider’s Quadrant due to Garrick and I visiting after we were placed in our foster homes, but we’d grown closer after crossing parapet. Thankfully, my brother and I weren’t placed far from each other like Liam and his sister, Sloane, had been — otherwise, I likely wouldn’t have met him.

“When we first joined the quadrant, everything changed. We immediately became really good friends.” I nodded slowly as I recalled everything, and Xaden sat quietly, listening intently. “We spent every moment we could together. Sure, eventually, I met Vi, Ridoc, Sawyer, and Rhi… they’re all amazing. But Liam and I had this… connection that I never had with anyone else.” I feel tears beginning to fill my eyes as well, and I don’t attempt to hide it this time.

“One day, we were sparring together. We were alone… it was late. One thing led to another, and… he kissed me.” Tears left wet trails down my cheeks as I stared off, recalling the memory.

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Mairi,” I spoke breathlessly as he hovered above me, his hips pinning mine to the mat and his hands pinning my wrists above my head. I couldn’t lie; I enjoyed being in this position with him. I could feel his body heat against me — and I was very aware of how his training tee outlined his muscles. I’d let my soul meet Malek before ever admitting that to him.

“You flustered, Tavis?” Liam arched a brow as his gaze focused on my features with a grin. I couldn’t tell what that look meant — Was he thinking the same thing I was? Was the fact that our bodies were touching in such intimate places driving him crazy, too? Or was he simply trying to catch me off guard?

“Me? Flustered?” I let out a scoff, fighting to deny the accusation. Admitting anything would only give him the upper hand. “In your dreams, Mairi.” I shook my head, and his grin only widened.

I studied his features as I laid beneath him, letting my eyes fall on his lips for a moment. I noticed the catch in his breath, the way he faltered — even if it was just a little. An idea sparked in my mind. Although I enjoyed being in this position with him, I could still have some fun with the rest of the sparring match. His gaze then followed a path similar to my own, glancing down at my lips. I felt his body relax on top of mine.

As soon as I knew his guard was down, I quickly moved my wrists out of his grip and took his wrists into my own grip. I then used all my body weight to flip us over, pinning him in a very similar position. Realistically, I knew he could turn it back around if he really wanted to. But he didn’t.

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Tavis.” His grin was still huge, and he raised a brow as his blue eyes met mine. He was obviously enjoying all of this. I was suddenly very aware of just how easy it would be to place my thighs on either side of him and have my way with him. My skin heated at the thought, but I managed to push it away before it could become an issue.

“You flustered, Mairi?” I questioned, raising a brow back at him. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest.

“And if I was?” My body tensed above him. Had I heard him correctly? My eyes were trained on the freckles that littered his face, once again questioning if he was trying to throw me off for the win. Something in those beautiful blue eyes told me he wasn’t.

I didn’t reply, but neither of us moved either. We laid there, me pinning him to the sparring mat, our breathing syncing. Suddenly — as if acting on impulse — Liam tilted his head up and closed the gap between us, pressing his lips against mine. Stunned, I froze for a moment before kissing him back.

Fireworks set off in my stomach as I moved my hands from his wrists to cup his face. Liam let out a soft hum against my lips as he deepened the kiss, and I followed, moving to bury one of my hands in his hair. I could feel his hands on my body, roaming along my waist, and his body pressed up against mine. It made me feral — something nobody ever made me feel. I’d never let anyone touch me beyond kissing and a few roaming hands. Nothing more than a make-out session. If this continued, I had a feeling it would turn into much more.

Moments later, we heard the gym doors open, causing both of us to jump and remove ourselves from each other. Our lips were swollen, his hair was a mess, and there was absolutely no denying what had happened, even if the culprit hadn’t already seen it. Heat rushed to my face, and our eyes darted toward the door to see who had interrupted. Then, we found the Wing Leader staring at us with raised brows. He muttered something about first years under his breath before shaking his head and immediately retreating back into the hallway.

Xaden’s soft hum pulls me away from the memory. “You forget that I walked in on that.” I look over at him to see his nose scrunching up in mock disgust. “I’m still scarred,” he adds, and I roll my eyes playfully, letting out a soft laugh. It almost takes me by surprise; I haven’t heard myself laugh since the night of reunification — before everything went to shit.

“It’s your fault for walking in,” I joke, raising a brow at him.

The older boy lets out a scoff, furrowing his brows. “You act like it isn’t a space open to the entire quadrant.”

“You had no business being there that late.” I playfully glare at him, causing him to laugh and shake his head. I almost feel lighter, like all my problems have disappeared. He doesn’t say anything further as the two of us fall into a content silence.

“You scared the shit out of him, y’know.” I break the silence after a moment, laughing quietly as the memory of Liam panicking over Xaden finding us resurfaces.

We finally reached my bedroom door after deciding that our sparring session was over. The embarrassment of being caught — and by Xaden, of all people — was like being dunked in a bucket of ice-cold water. We wouldn’t have been able to focus if we’d continued.

Liam seemed more freaked out by the event than I had expected. I was just embarrassed — he looked as if his world was coming to its inevitable end. He fidgeted with his hands, his brow tightly knit, unusually quiet. I let him sit in silence for a while, but the anticipation of not knowing how he felt was starting to wear on me. Did he regret the kiss?

I pushed the door open and stepped into my room, gently grabbing Liam by the arm to tug him through the ward that Xaden and Garrick had insisted be put in place. I had complained about the overprotective nature of it, but I admit that I appreciated the extra layer of protection in this hellhole.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, closing the door before watching as he fell into his usual spot in the chair beside my desk. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his body wound tight with tension and his mind obviously reeling. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in my room — we’d had countless study sessions in here — so it was a comfortable space for this inevitable talk.

“What’s wrong?” Liam repeated, his brows shooting upward as he let his body fall back into the chair. “Xaden just walked in on us kissing, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” His hands were moving frantically, mirroring his panic. I still couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was panicking, though.

“I’m sure Xaden has seen more traumatizing things.” I joked and let out a soft laugh. I studied his features — his blonde hair, his blue eyes, the freckles that decorated his face. It was something that I did often, though I tried to be subtle about it. He was beautiful.

“What if he tells Garrick?” His tone was now exasperated. I furrowed my brows at the question. He was worried about my brother finding out? I walked over to sit on the edge of my bed, across from his chair, keeping my gaze on him.

“Would that be so bad?” I questioned, letting out a small laugh. Sure, Garrick could be overprotective, but he was reasonable, at least. I never had an issue of him interfering with my love life. He trusted me to make the right choices — and come to him if they turned out to be the wrong ones.

“You don’t get it.” Liam sighed and ran his hands down his face. I tried my hardest not to focus on the veins that made their way from his forearms to his hands as he did so. “You’re not an older brother.” My face softened as I heard the words. He was looking at this from the perspective of Garrick himself — how he would feel if someone he trusted and considered a friend had seemingly gone behind his back and kissed his little sister.

“But you are,” I said, giving him a small nod as I leaned back on my hands. “How would you react to Sloane kissing someone you were friends with?” I raised a brow, keeping my eyes on him as I waited for his response.

“I would be furious.” He scoffs, bringing a hand up to run through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees once again. He was still fidgeting. “And if I fuck up? What happens? Do I lose two important people in my life?” An ache blossomed in my chest, and I wanted to kiss him until he was breathless and assured that nothing he could ever do would cause him to lose me. But I could tell he was gathering himself, reeling himself back in from the panic, so I didn’t.

“But I guess I’d come around eventually — if she really liked them.” Liam’s blue eyes met mine as he broke the silence, causing a small smile to grow on my face. We fell into a comfortable silence as I allowed him to sort through his thoughts more, and he eventually leaned back in the chair again as he relaxed.

“I write her letters all the time.” His voice was softer now as he glued his eyes to the floor. My heart skipped at the admission. “I know I can’t send them, and she’ll already be here by the time I’m able to… but fuck, there’s so much I want her to know, so much I don’t want to forget. So much I want to prepare her for.” The ache in my chest returned as I listened to him. I could tell he was terrified for her to join the quadrant, and it was obvious how much he missed her. He’d brought her up quite a few times in passing. I couldn’t help but wonder if Garrick had felt similarly during his first year.

“I promise there are just as many things she wants you to know.” I smiled small and gave him a nod, speaking from experience. The age gap between Garrick and I was larger, so we were able to write letters back and forth before I joined, but nothing could beat talking to him in person. Although there had always been a sense of dread about joining the riders quadrant, there was also a sense of relief that I would see the people I loved again.

A small smile grew on Liam’s lips as his eyes drifted to meet mine again. “Do you think he’ll tell him?” He asked. Xaden was just as protective as Garrick. He wouldn’t rush off to tell him immediately, but he certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to mention it the first chance he got.

“I think it’s very likely.” A chuckle escaped my lips as I nodded, causing him to tilt his head back against the chair and let out a dramatic groan. “But I don’t think it will be as big of a deal as you’re making it out to me.” I shook my head, watching him in amusement.

“Why’s that?” Liam raised an eyebrow as he turned his head toward me, still tilting it back against the chair.

I went quiet for a moment, my heart and my brain having a silent debate. One of them — my heart — told me to tell him the truth, to spill all of my feelings to him. My brain was telling me to keep it to myself — that chances are, he didn’t feel the same, and it was a spur-of-the-moment kiss. But the fact that he was so anxious told me otherwise.

“Because to him, I’m an open book.” My shoulders shrugged, and I paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’ve thought about you for… a while now. And he knows that. I’m sure he’d be pretty understanding.” My heart pounded as I kept my attention on him.

Liam froze as he listened to me. Shit. Did I make a mistake? Had I read him wrong? Did he not feel the same way about me? Was the kiss not good for him? I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling — now I was the one panicking.

“A while, huh?” His voice brought me out of my thoughts. He had noticeably relaxed in a matter of seconds, his voice teasing now. Heat began to creep up my face once again. “Do you have a crush on me, Genevieve?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. There was no way this was the same man who was freaking out just minutes before. “You’re insufferable,” I said with a soft chuckle.

“I take pride in it.” A grin grew on his face. “You want to tell me just how long this little crush has been going on?” He raised a brow, and I could feel his eyes studying me.

I groaned, falling backward on my bed. “Insufferable,” I repeated, causing him to let out a laugh from deep within his stomach — a real one. The sound brought a smile to my face.

My chest aches as his laugh echoes in my head.

I stay quiet for a moment, my lips rubbing together. “He definitely wasn’t my first kiss, but he was my first for a lot of other things.” I nod slowly. I can feel Xaden’s gaze on me but I don’t meet it.

“I know you don’t want to hear about that, but the connection… I don’t know that I could find that anywhere else.” I stare off for a moment, attempting to ignore the sting that threatens to return to my eyes. One would think I didn’t have any tears left to cry, but I’m actively proving that wrong.

“Are you sure about this?” Liam questioned as he hovered above me, both of our shirts already discarded and thrown somewhere in the room. It was late, after another sparring session, and we were in my room. A make-out session had gotten a little too heated, and well, here we were on my bed.

I nodded, allowing my eyes to study his freckles for a moment — they were almost like constellations. My gaze then fell to his lips, already swollen from kisses. He was beautiful like this, disheveled, his guard down as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure in my life.” A small smile came onto my lips, which was quickly returned by the boy.

Liam bit his lip as he slowly trailed a hand down along my body, mapping every curve. I felt my breath hitch in response, the heat in my lower stomach only intensifying from the anticipation. I gasped quietly as he slid his hand under the waistband of my pants, then my underwear, running a finger along my already slick core and causing me to let out a soft moan. Nobody had ever touched me like this.

“So fucking wet for me,” he muttered as he began toying with my clit, adding another finger and drawing more moans out of me. “So fucking beautiful.” Liam’s words shot right to my core, only adding to the pleasure. He had to know what he was doing to me.

I felt two of his fingers circle around my entrance before sliding into me with ease, causing me to gasp and toss my head back against the pillow. The feeling. The stretch. It was overwhelming — so much better than doing it myself, imagining it was someone else touching the most intimate parts of my body.

Liam grinned as he began pumping his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes on my face. “Such a good girl,” he cooed as I felt his thumb press against my clit, adding a delicious amount of pressure.

“F-fuck,” I moaned out, looking up at him as white-hot pleasure coursed through my body. I could feel him everywhere — his presence was maddening, and the fact that all his focus was on me even more so. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

Liam’s fingers began to pump faster, curling and hitting that delicious spot inside me. He mumbled praises under his breath, each of them only intensifying the pleasure. I began to feel a knot building in my lower stomach, grinding my hips up toward his hand. My back bows, the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me filling the room.

“I-I think I’m gonna–” My words are cut off by another loud moan.

“I know, baby,” His voice was soft, the sloshing of his fingers pumping into me growing louder as he pumped faster. “Let it out for me. I’m right here with you. Show me how good I make you feel.” He coaxed.

I felt him begin to kiss along my chest before attaching his lips to one of my nipples, and he only added more pressure to my clit. The pleasure grew more intense with the added sensation, my moans growing louder as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body shook against his as the knot in my stomach began to unravel. Moments later, I moan out his name as I release around his fingers, my walls pulsating around them.

“That’s it,” Liam cooed against my skin, “Such a good girl for me, look at you cumming all over my fingers.”

The words felt like a blanket over me as he rode out my orgasm, and I relaxed beneath him, breathing heavily. He lifted his head before planting gentle kisses on my neck, removing his fingers from me. I whimpered at the loss, squirming beneath him. Liam chuckled low against my skin as he trailed kisses further down my body, and I looked down as he began to work my pants off.

“What are you–” I’m cut off by his shushing.

“Let me take care of you,” He muttered against my skin. The heat in my stomach ignited once again as he tugged my pants down before tossing them to the floor. He then wasted no time diving in between my thighs, drawing loud moans from me again.

I blink and feel a tear roll down my cheek. I realize I’m still sitting on the ledge with Xaden rather than in my room back in Basgiath with Liam.

Xaden’s eyes scan over me with a sorrowful look. “I didn’t know you guys were so intimate…” He spoke softly, his tone more comforting than usual. I bring my hands up to wipe my eyes. I’m so tired of crying.

I let out a soft hum in response. “We didn’t see any point in screaming it from the rooftops.” I shook my head slightly. “We never made anything official. The only conversation we really had was regarding whether or not we were exclusive.” I nod my head slightly, bringing a hand up to run through my hair.

We were exclusive. We’d decided that after I’d gotten jealous of some girl trying to make a move. I almost laugh at the memory of how dramatic I’d been.

I walked out of battle brief without saying a word to Liam. In fact, that’s how I’d been walking out of every class for the past week. I played it off as having somewhere to be, but truthfully, I simply didn’t want to face the storm brewing inside me.

“Gen!” I could hear him calling out for me. Why was he chasing after me now? Why hadn’t he done it sooner? Did he truly care, or did he just want to make sure he could still get laid? I hated myself for thinking that, but I couldn’t help it. I always thought jealousy was pitiful — pathetic, even — but then I saw her talking to him, twirling her blonde hair around her finger. His smile. Now, it had plagued me like a disease.

I felt a hand grip my arm before I could round a corner, yanking me into an empty classroom. I furrowed my brows, eyes darting around to ensure nobody was present before focusing on Liam.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hated the way my body relaxed at the sight of him, the way my voice couldn’t be as strong as I willed it to be. The effect he had on me was always undeniable. My heart and my brain were fighting over how to feel — currently, my brain was winning, but my heart was putting up a damned good fight.

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” Liam asked with furrowed brows, concern lining his face and filling his eyes as he studied me. It was silly, really. I shouldn’t have been avoiding him like this. Who was I to be jealous of some girl?

“I’ve had the same question,” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head. “You don’t have time for these pathetic and petty acts.” She was right. I had bigger things to worry about, but I couldn’t help it. He deserved proper communication, though.

I stayed quiet, my eyes glued to the wall behind him before meeting his gaze. “I saw you last week. You were… talking to someone. Some girl. She seemed nice, and you seemed quite interested in her.” My voice was soft, almost shy. I never got jealous. I had no reason to. We never agreed to be exclusive.

“Are you jealous, Tavis?” Liam raised a brow, amusement washing over his face as he watched me.

I sighed quietly, looking away from him again. I didn’t want him to think I was possessive. I didn’t want to be that girl who held him back. He had never been the kind of guy to settle on one girl.

“Gen,” He spoke up softly after a moment, keeping his eyes on me. I didn’t answer, not wanting to deepen my own embarrassment.

“Genevieve.” I finally looked up at him, and he brought his hands up to cradle my face. “Nothing happened with her.”

“It sure seemed like something was happening,” I spat back, my tone more angry than I cared to admit I was. Gods, I was so pathetic.

“She was trying, but if you had stuck around a little longer, you would have seen me walk away and find Xaden.” His blue eyes focused on my hazel eyes. My brows furrowed.

“Xaden?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I went to Xaden.” Liam scrunched his nose slightly, his thumbs gently brushing against my cheeks. I felt myself relax more at his touch, finding comfort in how gentle he was with his rough hands.

“And what did Xaden say?” I raised a brow as I studied him, focusing on his freckles — Gods, I loved his freckles — and taking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“He basically said I’m stupid for being so scared about it.” He laughed quietly. “A little rich coming from him considering how often he denies his feelings for Violet.”

I let out a soft laugh and shook my head, feeling a weight fall off my shoulders. I moved my arms to wrap around his shoulders and allowed my body to relax into his.

“You could have talked to me,” Liam spoke up softly as he tilted his head down to look at me. “Probably would have cleared everything up pretty quickly.” A small laugh escaped his lips, causing me to roll my eyes. He was right, but I wouldn’t admit that.

“I didn’t think you’d want anything more.” I shook my head slightly, hating myself for how stupid I’d been.

“I don’t know what I want.” He shook his head as well. “All I know is I don’t want to do it with anyone else. This doesn’t have to be some… crazy declaration. But we can agree not to see other people if that’s what you want.”

I saw something as I looked into those beautiful eyes of his. Hope. Yearning. A million things being left unsaid. He knew I had an issue with commitment, and he was trying to navigate it the best he could.

“I’d like that,” I said with a nod, a smile forming on both of our lips. The world stilled for a moment as we held each other’s gaze. Before much else could be said, Liam leaned in to gently press his lips against mine. It didn’t take long for that kiss to turn into something much more heated.

“I remember him coming to me in a panic about not wanting anyone else,” Xaden’s laugh and his voice pull me back to reality. “I think he was just scared of getting hurt, which anyone can relate to.”

I nodded a little, staying quiet. I couldn’t think of a response. After that conversation, Liam and I spent every possible moment together. We were together the night of reunification day, the last real moment we had alone before being sent to Athebyne. The last real moment we had before Resson.

I took in a deep breath, the scent of oak and leather wrapping around my senses as Liam wrapped himself around me, his arm draped over my waist. We must have fallen asleep after our… activities that night. Xaden had finally let him have a break from being Violet’s body guard since he had decided to be with her tonight. Every one of my instincts told me to stay like this forever — wrapped up in his sheets — but that wouldn’t be realistic.

Liam moved his arm to gently rub his hand along the bare skin of my waist, and I shifted to lay on my back, a soft smile growing on my lips as I looked up at him. His hand now rested on my bare stomach, and I lifted my own to gently run through his hair before slowly tracing my finger down along his jawline.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice came out soft and groggy from just waking up. It almost ignited that flame in my lower stomach once again, but I just wanted to lay here with him for a while longer. I went quiet for a moment, deciphering how to form my thoughts into words.

“What things would be like if we weren’t… here.” I finally spoke up quietly. I could almost see it — sleeping in late, finding him shirtless in the kitchen making breakfast. Holding his hand just because I could, kissing him without worrying if it may be the last. The late nights spent with our friends, the laughter. The joy. Maybe in this other life, I wouldn’t feel the need to guard my love so stubbornly and could tell him how I truly felt. Some of these things were obtainable, but it was difficult to have them when we never knew if we would survive to see next week.

Liam let out a soft hum in response, his index finger tracing shapes on my skin. “What, if we weren’t forced into a death sentence?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, though we both knew there was truth to it. That’s exactly what it was supposed to be for us marked ones — a death sentence. Leadership hated it when we moved up the ranks with ease, like Xaden and Garrick, but there wasn’t much they could do. They couldn’t deny how much of an asset some of us were to the continent.

“Somethin’ like that,” I said with a soft laugh, studying the freckles that painted his face as if I didn’t already know them like the back of my hand. He was so beautiful — like a work of art. All of him. Sure, his body was absolutely divine, but he was arguably the kindest person I had met and definitely the most patient. Liam was confided in often, and yet he never complained — nor did he judge. He was the kind of person to put everyone before himself.

His head dipped to bury his face in my neck, planting gentle kisses. “And what would things be like?” Liam asked teasingly as he nipped at my ear. That flame simmered below the surface, ready to ignite any second if he continued. I drew in a deep breath as his lips trailed down along my skin.

I held back a breathy moan, my thighs pressing together like the traitors they were. “You’re gonna tire us both out again if you keep on with that,” I told him, resisting the urge to squirm beneath him.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Liam responded, “the best sleep aid known to man.” He began leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses along my collarbones. I let out a sensual sigh, wetting my lips with my tongue.

“You’re insufferable.” My voice came out shakier than intended. I had a love-hate relationship with the way he affected me — or my body, I suppose — it gave him far too much control. I allowed it, though, because the love tended to override the hate. Liam knew the effect he had, and he took advantage of it every chance he could.

“And I take pride in it,” Liam said with a teasing laugh, his lips now moving up along my neck toward my own.

“Now answer my question.” He grinned as he pecked my lips. “What would things be like?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by an urgent pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there, Mairi!” A voice called from the other side. Bodhi? “We’re being called to formation.”

Liam and I both let out a groan as he let his head fall to rest on my chest. Bodhi pounded on the door again before Liam let out a deep sigh and got out of bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor and shuffling it back on. I pulled the sheets over my body and tried not to focus on how the muscles in his back rippled with every movement as he walked over and opened the door.

Bodhi was standing there, already dressed in his leathers and ready to go. He looked into the room and made eye contact with me, his brows shooting up toward his hairline.

“My bad for interrupting,” He spoke up and averted his gaze from mine, looking back at Liam. His face was solemn, and he didn’t make a teasing remark like he usually would. A beat passed before he spoke again as if gathering his thoughts. “We’re under attack. Get to formation. Now.”

My heart dropped to my ass as Bodhi rushed away, and Liam closed the door before anyone else could see us. Under attack? On reunification day? How the fuck does that happen? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Liam turned to look at me, his wide eyes meeting mine, and then we both scrambled to get our clothes on.

Liam turned to me once we finished, stalking over before gently taking my face in his hands. He leaned in to kiss me before mumbling, “We can finish this talk later.” A small grin made its way onto his face. “I’d love to hear that answer.”

His voice echoes in my mind. I’d love to hear that answer. The answer I never had the chance to give him. I squeeze my hand around the wooden sculpture of Eilidh. I can feel her at the back of my mind, quiet but waiting in case I need her. I don’t know what I need.

“He got better with it.” I smile softly. Though we never said those three words, he was always very vocal about how he felt — consistently reassuring me I was the only one he wanted, telling me how amazing I looked even when I was a sweaty mess after challenges or sparring sessions.

“I was going to tell him the last night we were together, the night of reunification. Being called to formation kind of ruined that.” I let out a dry laugh, almost a scoff. “It still fucks with me that they told us we were under attack when it was really fucking war games.”

Xaden grunts in response. “Had to be realistic, I guess. Wanted the adrenaline rush to see how we’d do if it were real.” This time, I let out a real scoff but don’t respond because he’s right. That’s exactly what it was, a test to see how quickly we’d react.

“And then they sent us to our deaths,” I say quietly. Xaden doesn’t respond, but I notice how his jaw clenches. I know he feels like he failed us that day — failed Violet, Liam, and Soleil especially. I want to tell him it isn’t true, that he couldn’t have controlled what happened to us that day, but I know it would fall on deaf ears.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” My voice falls to a whisper. “He was… fine. He was healthy. He was fighting, didn’t miss a beat, and then suddenly…” I trail off, chewing on the inside of my cheek. An ache comes creeping into my chest. I’ve debated numerous times asking Imogen to wipe the memory of him, but I know that wouldn’t be beneficial.

My feet hit the ground as I dismounted Eilidh. I could hear Deigh’s cries from a mile away. Surely he was just injured — surely he’d be fine. My eyes searched the area before finding Violet’s half-silver hair, my brows furrowing as I took in the sight of her on the ground. What the hell was happening? Why wasn’t Eilidh speaking to me? Had she shut me out? Did I do something?

I rush over, the breath leaving my lungs as I take in the sight before me. Liam was lying in her arms. No color to his face. Barely awake, his breathing shallow. I couldn’t see any blood; his body seemed fine, but he obviously wasn’t.

“Oh my Gods, what happened?” I managed to get out as I fell to my knees beside her. Violet was kind enough to gently move Liam toward me, allowing me to gently wrap my arms around him.

“Deigh…” Liam’s voice was strained. He’d hardly managed to get the words out before coughing. I shook my head slightly in a silent plea for him to save his energy, gently caressing my thumb along his cheek. He looked so tired. So weak. I looked up at Violet and met her gaze. There were tears streaming down her face.

“He was attacked… gutted,” Violet spoke very softly. “He was… he was protecting Tairn and I. He… he didn’t make it, Gen.” My breath caught in my throat at her words. A sudden wave of grief fell over me, partially my own but primarily Eilidh’s. Her shield must have fallen. If Deigh was dead, Liam only had minutes before he followed. If that.

My eyes fell back down to Liam, whose blue eyes studied my features like they had done a million times before.

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, and I couldn’t stop the tears that flooded from my eyes. This would be the last time I could hold him, the last time I could look at his beautiful eyes. The last time I could admire those freckles I loved so much.

“It’s o-okay,” He nodded, tears brimming his own eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

I shook my head as I listened to what he said. Everything would not be okay, not without him. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I should have told him how I felt. I should have told him how much I loved him. But my voice fell into a void, and I cursed myself for it.

“Listen to me.” There was a shake in Liam’s voice. His energy was depleting — and quickly. “No matter what happens right now, you fight. Do you understand me? Don’t let this pull you into the dark; you fight it. You fight them. And you win. This is just a battle. We can still win the war.” His hand grasped mine as he met my tearful gaze. I stared down at him for a moment before nodding.

I would make every dark wielder pay for this. Who were they to take him from me? Who were they to attack us and assume there would be no consequence? This wouldn’t be over until every last one of them met the same fate. I’d make sure of it.

“I promise. I’ll fight. For you, for Deigh.” I nodded again. “I promise.” And I meant it. That’s a promise I would keep.

Liam gave me a small, weak smile. I tilted my head down and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, then one on his forehead, before Xaden landed on Sgaeyl beside us. He dismounted as quickly as possible and rushed over. My vision was blurred, my hearing muffled. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the ache forming in my chest. My body was frozen. All I could hear was Xaden’s voice as he said, “I know, brother,” before Liam was lifted from my arms and carried over to Deigh. I should have said a proper goodbye, but my heart wouldn’t let me.

I let out a deep, shaky breath as my eyes glued themselves to the grass below me, the spot where he’d been lying in my arms. I managed to blink away some of the tears before lifting my head to watch Xaden and Liam. I allowed myself to sit and wallow in the grief for a moment.

Don’t let this pull you into the dark. His voice echoed in my head. I would never be able to get over this — to get over him. I’d never be able to let go.

“You don’t have to let go of anything.” Eilidh’s voice finally sounded in my head. “But you do have to fight through it. We have people depending on us, Brave One.”

I let out a slow breath, attempting to stabilize myself, and stood up. She was right. We did have people depending on us. I couldn’t wallow in my grief; I didn’t have time for that. Not yet, at least.

So I looked out to where our friends were fighting. I studied them for a moment and assessed my surroundings, beginning to create a game plan in my head. I then quickly mounted Eilidh once again before she took off. I had a promise to fulfill.

“I don’t think that’s something any of us are going to get out of our heads.” Xaden shakes his head as he looks forward, not wanting to look me in the eye. It’s a sore subject for all of us, especially so soon after.

“And that’s okay. You should remember him; all of us should…” His voice trails off as he pauses for a moment as if thinking about how he should continue. “But we have to remember that people die in war, Gen. If we let it eat us alive… if we let it hold us back, then they’d have died in vain.

His words sink into my bones as I take my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s right. Liam isn’t the only one we lost in that battle. Xaden has always been great with speeches and motivational talks, but I’m not typically someone who needs them. Guess there’s a first time for everything. I don’t notice the silence until he breaks it again.

“And he wouldn’t want you to hold anything back.” The older boy speaks softly, his onyx eyes finally meeting mine once again. I can’t tell where he’s about to take this conversation.

“It won’t happen now, but eventually… eventually you’ll find someone who makes you feel loved and appreciated. And I know for a fact he would want you to do what makes you happy. No matter what that is, no matter who it is, he would want you to be happy.

I close my eyes, going quiet as I chew on my bottom lip. I don’t want to think about being with anyone else — I can’t imagine loving anybody else. The idea of giving myself to someone else makes my stomach churn.

“Thanks for the talk.” I give him a slight nod, not acknowledging what he had said. I push the idea of potentially falling in love with someone else away. It’s not an option. Not right now. I’m not sure it ever could be.

“I should get back inside before Violet wakes up and I’m not there.” Xaden runs his fingers through his onyx locks before moving to stand up from the ledge. He reaches his hand down to give my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I don’t respond as he walks away I look back down at my hands in my lap, staring at the wooden dragon in my hands. My thumb traces over the ridges of Eilidh’s features, about a thousand emotions swirling inside me. I take a moment for myself before standing from the ledge and following Xaden into the Riorson house.

#Liam Mairi x OC #Liam Mairi fic #Liam Mairi #Fourth Wing #The Empyrean #Xaden Riorson x OC #Xaden Riorson #Violet Sorrengail #Garrick Tavis #Iron Flame #Onyx Storm #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing oc #smut #grief #oc #angst

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bemnie · 6 months ago

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I found someone to help me ID!! itll be at the end of the post!

Hello Tumblr Id like you to meet my precious OC Hana!!! She is my sweetie shmoobie oogieboogie <3

She is part of my new OCverse that is just Earth but where my characters exists!!! almost all of the little cast i am making is gonna be disabled 1 way or another and its epic super cool yippee :D

Hana is like an account or Something?! Idk much abt jobs but I will flesh this out at some point?! i will also probably make her a silly cast of colleagues (think Office or Superstore?) it will be so fun yes yes!

Plus I need 2 draw my girl doing some Mod inspired drag! she is an amateur drag artists on her off days!! that means I obviously have to draw all the other drag artists, bartenders, waitstaff, and patreons obviously!!!! >u<

Start of Image Description:

Captions on a yellow and white polka dot background

Captions read: Hannah Yoshimoto, Hana , bullet point say "Third Generation Japanese American, second bullet point reads Stickler Syndrome, third says 28, born 1996. fourth says 60s Mod Enthusiast.

End of captions

Art style is cartoony with smooth coloring and soft shading, like airbrush.

Drawings from left to right of a tan Japanese lady. Her hair is in a short brown bob with bangs. She had brown eyes and hypertropia in one eye. Her nose is stubby and large but her smile is wide and has a small gap in the middle.

In the first drawing she is in nothing but a standard old style bra and underwear in a beige color. She is in a 'swing' motion with her arms flared.

In the second drawing Hannah is in the same pose with the same features, but she is dressed up. She is in a babydoll style lime green dress with a flower pattern along the side and a white bow on the chest part. She has on white gogo boots that go to her calves. She has on matching lime green eyeshadow on her eyes and more tones (red) on her lips that give her face more life.

On the far right there are black and white sketches of her in a order of 3 from top to bottom.

First drawing has a slick shading style, she has on dark lipstick, a top that goes to her neck in a straight pattern with no sleeves. Her earrings are large dangly peace signs.

Second drawing is labeled 'After Surgery' with Hana shoving her face into a pillow made to keep the head face down without irritating the eyes, and complaining with a 'aargh' in a text bubble.

The third drawing has her with dangly rectangle earrings, she has on glasses and a flowery top with no sleeves. She is squinting at the laptop and it says "Listening to audio and reading. Doing job at computer."

End Image description.

Image ID by @kur0iledge , thank you so much for the help <3

#disabled oc #disabled orginal character #oc #orginal character #character ref sheet #ref sheet #stickler syndrome #i hope you guys like Hana!#CCArtShare

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funkycloewn · 9 months ago

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I've once again come from the dead to post lmaooo

After having avoided the pilot for so long in fear of getting sucked into the world and fandom, I finally watched Lackadaisy! (My fears were right btw as it has a grip on me rn) I love it and subsequently read the comic so I knew everything and wouldn't get spoilered.

Anyway, a little time after I came across the amazing interactive fic called the Under The Devil's Moon made by @libras-interactives

I enjoyed a lot (and can't wait for the next chapter/update) and couldn't help but make ocs due to this fic being a sort of self insert thing

These characters shown are only two out the five I made :]

It's sorta rambly but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! (Especially you, Iibra 🥺)

Name: Margaret Quinn

Nickname: Daisy

Date of Birth: October 26, 1889 (31 Years Old)

Personality:

(Mostly the usual callgirl personality with some stuff added into the mix)

Years of being in the industry, has shaped this feline to be calm, gentle and soft spoken. She knows what her customers want and acts accordingly so. Though, she doesn't particularly show it — that would be bad for her image as a callgirl — she is quick to give a person a label, to categorize them. She doesn't mean to be judgy but this mindset has helped her out countless of times, so she continues on; getting to know that someone is the only way for her to lift off the verdict she holds. With the ones she loves, Margaret is very caring towards. Making sure they're well fed with both food and love is one of her top priorities. (Though, recently that has been a difficult task to maintain) This, unfortunately, can make her pushy and stubborn even when she means well.

Romantic Relationship:

Out of all the characters to choose from I chose our friendly local bartender, Viktor Vasko. At one time I was thinking of either Zib or Sable but after reading about how he would treat Chester, I was sold. I can't for that romance to unfold! :D (rhyming unintended)

Other:

• She was born and lived most of her life in the outskirts of New Orleans

• Her mother succumbed to a yellow fever outbreak, leaving her and a few other kids orphaned.

• This led to her forming a group with said children and the four of them residing in an abandoned shack.

• Margaret knows how to fix things at least temporarily because of this (e.g. pipes and infrastructure).

• (This one is a little violent so warning for that :'D) Both her front paws are missing their claws. This is due to a farmer who got sick of her constantly stealing his chickens.

• The pearl necklace she has, was given to her by Flynn. She doesn’t like anyone to know that and avoids the question when asked who she got it from.

• She likes fidgeting with the pearls. The way they softly clack when moved and the feeling of them soothes her.

• Due to her motherly nature, she will "adopt" (translation: care and look after) anyone under the age of 25 with who she is somewhat close to, especially when they are boys

• She sees Jack and Marius as older sons of hers

• Rocky could (will) be a contender for the spot of a fourth son

• She always carries a box containing a sewing kit, buttons and patches

• This has come in handy plentiful of times for Jack, mostly. On rare occasions Marius is in need of them, though I would think he's picky on what she uses; they have to match.

• Though, she says she doesn't know who Chester's father is, she knows. She just doesn't like to acknowledge it.

Voice Claim: Tiana from Princess and the Frog

youtube

Name: Chester Quinn

Date of Birth: January 6, 1917 (3 Years Old)

Personality:

This little troublemaker, has a great fondness for being one with the earth. By that I mean, he loves digging. Chester likes creating craters at playgrounds or parks, all the while letting himself be covered in freshly dug up soil. Almost all of his clothes have a grass stain and Larochka fears that he might have stained his chubby little hands for eternity. Speaking of fashion, he hates wearing shoes. A tantrum is bound to occur if you simply try to make him wear a pair. Even if you somehow achieve the impossible, he will just claw them off and chuck them. However despite all that, he's well meaning and can be gentle at times. He enjoys snuggling with him Mama or Larochka. Chester is very social and when out he's always looking for a way to make people smile.

Other:

• If he likes you, he'll make you a 'special mud pie' (a mud pie sprinkled with hand picked flowers; the more flowers, the more he likes you)

• He's handsy, mostly because he's an affectionate boy but also due to the fact he has poor eye sight.

• While he's chubby right now he grows to look more like his father, even somewhat in the face department.

• Fortunately for everyone and the tom himself, he grows out of his habit to refuse any kind of footwear. Don't tease older Chester about his phase, though, because he will get embarrassed and he will look like he just ate a sour lemon.

Voice Claim: Greg from Over the Garden Wall

youtube

Cleaned up and with his eye color when he gains his melanin

Wonder who the dad is lmaoo

Lastly a size comparison (not sure if it's accurate tho lol)

#This took so long write down omg #I'm so not used to writing down my oc stuff lmaoo #if:devil's moon #fanart #art #lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc #lackadaisy fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art

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robotnik-apologist · 2 months ago

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do you like stobotnik? Doesn't have to be just movie stobotnik either, I know stone doesn't exist in the canon context outside of the movies but I love him and in my imagination he does.. if so do you have any headcanons about him and robotnik that you'd like to share or think are interesting?

i do like stobotnik quite a lot, actually! i'm very easily swayed by romantic angst so the entirety of sonic 3 was very painful for me 😞 if robotnik doesn't come back in the fourth movie and live happily ever after with stone (platonic or otherwise, i just want a goddamn happy ending) i will genuinely crash out so hard 😒😒

also, very self indulgent given that i'm les, but genderbent stobotnik has me in a chokehold that i don't ever wanna get out of 🙇‍♀️

i also love imagining him in other contexts outside of the movies! a tumblr user i used to follow (they unfortunately deleted their account and did not make a backup of their art) did a bunch of art of robotnik and stone in different games/shows. i would share the few pieces that i saved for my personal collection, but im not fond of doing so when i don't have a way to ask the artist for their permission :[

however!!! there's one artist who has done a lot of stobotnik art, and redrew stone and robotnik in the different sonic media's as well! the link below is to one of their pieces:

as far as headcanons go, i admittedly fall flat. all i care about is that they get married one day 💔💔 im usually so swept up in my own oc x canon stuff that i honestly don't consume a lot of stobotnik content (and my recent stint of not regularly using tumblr hasn't helped, either). i definitely repost art if it catches my eye, but for the most part, i personally just really like their canon dynamic :]

#i would say stobotnik sunday but it's currently 3 am for me and therefore a monday 😞#kd yaps #stobotnik #dr robotnik #robotnik

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sarahs-malewives · 2 months ago

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finally designed my silly …. rough story under cut ! (it’s long lol)

(first image appearance)

Alectryon is encountered for the first time post Persephone coming back! He’s in one of the satyr tunnels and very lost. They do the introductions and Zagreus only really learns his name. Alectryon explains how he’s stuck in the temple of Styx essentially. There’s some sort of force blocking him from Hades’ chamber, and a similar force from Elysium. He’s just been constantly going through satyr tunnels because he’s bored and can’t properly talk to Cerberus and Charon. They travel through the satyr tunnel and to the boss, which Alectryon helps defeat. He then offers his singular boon (chicken themed), in addition to the final reward, and disappears back to the main temple. Zagreus is left very confused. When returning to the temple, Alectryon has seemingly moved on to another tunnel.

After the first encounter, Alectryon will randomly join Zagreus in boss tunnels. This does include potential fountain ones. He cannot be gifted nectar/ambrosia until the final chamber is clear, where he’ll stand outside the satyr tunnels and talk with Zagreus.

After the second/third encounter, Zagreus learns he’s a minor god and was one of Ares’ followers.

Fourth encounter onwards starts the normal dialogue. he will openly discuss how he misses Ares, how there’s a war on the surface, what he thinks of certain gods, etc, but never how he ended up in the underworld, why he’s separated from Ares, or what he’s the minor god of.

Being gifted his first nectar has him gift Zagreus his keepsake (something chicken related I haven’t decided yet) and finally explaining that he’s the minor god of chickens. Hilarity ensues.

Second nectar he opens up that he was discharged by Ares and “died” to a monster on the surface. “But you’re a minor god!” “That’s the mystery.” Alectryon confesses that he greatly misses the surface/Ares, but his prayers to Lord Hades have been ignored. This activates the quest to reunite Alectryon and Ares. The two goals on it are to ask Hades about him, and find out about him from the other Olympians.

Hades refuses to release Alectryon when asked, saying “He’s a special case” and “only another Olympian can save him now” so “why don’t you go ask one of your stupid uncles to do it.” Styx (oc) overhears this and calls Zagreus aside. “Listen, I can’t get him out of here. But I can help him get to the rest of the underworld. Would he like that?”

(second image appearance)

The next cutscene is in an Elysium fountain chamber, where Alectryon has cleaned up. (“I’d recommend not drinking that water, Zag—and you’ve already gone and drank it.”) He thanks Zagreus for his “kind nymph friend.”

Alectryon can now appear anywhere in the underworld, where he’ll tag along for like 2-3 chambers to a miniboss.

When questioned about Alectryon, every god has a different memory of him (Zeus’ is that he’s the god of chickens (very helpful), Athena’s is that he was seemingly Ares’ prized pawn, etc). Artemis’ line only triggers when all the others have (non Ares), and she tells Zagreus that she heard he “died” to [insert monster here] in [insert location here]. She mentions that Ares has been searching the mortal realm more recently.

Ares himself seems to refuse to acknowledge Alectryon’s existence, at least until Zagreus pushes about what Artemis said. Ares admits that he’s missed Alectryon, his prized general, too. He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, though.

To trigger the final reunion, Zagreus must either encounter one of Ares’ booms while with Alectryon, or activate Ares’ call with him.

Ares will be like “is that you?” and (post battle) the dialogue will trigger. Ares will summon Alectryon to (presumably) Mount Olympus, and Zagreus will go onwards.

(third image appearance)

Alectryon meets Zagreus outside the satyr tunnels once again, and Zagreus almost doesn’t recognize him. “What are you doing here, sir?” “You didn’t think that was the last time you’d see me, right?”

Alectryon is much happier now that he’s back with Ares. He wanted to get right back into fighting, but they agreed that him just reappearing with the mortal soldiers would be confusing. After this war, he could reappear. Alectryon decided to go back to the underworld to get his energy out.

When Zagreus returns to the House, he overhears a conversation between Hades and Alectryon. Hades relents and lets Alectryon visit the house sometimes.

Alectryon starts offering a second boon, one which pairs with one of Ares’. I haven’t decided what yet lol

#🏵️#☄️#crowningshipping #reference #composing #sarah’s malewives #hades game #hades supergiant #ares hades #zagreus #selfship #selfshipping #f/o

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miya-suns · 3 months ago

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running into fire

image taken from pinterest

When Formula 1 driver Touya Todoroki loses his position to his younger brother, it's up to his beloved girlfriend to appear out of nowhere to comfort him.

tw: nothing. Just cute, a little suggestive. mentions menstrual cycles (if there are any more, let me know, I'm still learning)

Himiko is a Formula 1 driver and Touya's teammate. This is just a small part, but I have twelve other chapters of this story already written. It was a Brazilian OC, but I turned it into a reader.

bnha formula 1 AU

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great But while in this world

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me

too sweet - hozier

Friday | Karuizawa, Japan | August 4, 2023

You looked around the small town with wonder. Your eyes darted between the elegant boutiques and the cafes that seemed to invite you to get out of your car and enjoy the surroundings. The dense forest surrounding the city made it a refuge from the chaos of Tokyo. It was incredible that Touya had chosen this particular place to live — you could bet he had some luxury penthouse in the center of Japan's capital.

Thinking about him made you sigh. You had come as a surprise, and you didn't know what his reaction would be. You hadn't spoken since Monday, when you woke up alone in the hotel with only a message informing you that he was going home. You couldn't even be upset, because you understood Touya's desire to be alone.

The team was in the middle of the celebrations on Sunday afternoon when they were notified by the FIA. After a thorough technical inspection, it was proven that Touya's car was 1.5 kg below the minimum weight required by the regulations. He was disqualified and — the worst part — his victory fell into Shoto's lap, who opened up a huge points lead over the LOV driver.

Touya was now in fourth place in the Drivers' Championship. His car wasn't the best on the grid, Katsuki and Shoto were leading both championships and things only seemed to get worse. You understood his frustration, so you didn't try to contact him all week, however, you bought a ticket to Japan yesterday, getting the driver's address from Himiko.

You were now heading downtown. You didn't know how to help your boyfriend, so you called the only person who could truly understand his frustration at that moment.

"Hey, kitty. How is he?"

Himiko's voice sounded worried. The young driver was the one who seemed the saddest when Tomura announced the FIA's decision.

"I haven't seen him yet, 'Miko." you sighed. "I'm in town, I wanted something to cheer him up… Actually, I'm terrified about how he'll react."

"Did you try your body, honey? I mean, he was devouring you with his eyes on Sunday, I felt like a child watching something inappropriate." Himiko said, and you could see the blonde moving her eyebrows suggestively as she looked at her nails.

"I'm on my period."

Her voice was practically a growl, and you wanted to disappear when the driver glared at you from the rearview mirror. Damn, did he know English?

Himiko clicked her tongue.

"Alcohol. Fill him with alcohol, then kiss him, show him that you're with him, and I promise he'll be renewed tomorrow."

You sighed.

"Just be with him, kitten. Dabi has never had anyone by his side when he needed it, that alone… makes a huge difference."

You mumbled a yes, as you realized you were reaching your destination. you said goodbye to Himiko, taking a deep breath before getting out of the car.

You hoped your idea would work.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

For a moment you thought Himiko had tricked you with the address. The driver took a while to find the entrance, and they still spent twenty minutes on a road surrounded by trees, when suddenly a huge mansion appeared between the trees.

You passed the black wooden torii, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the beauty of the place. There was even an artificial lake with koi carp! The meticulously maintained garden and the glass walls that reflected the forest, incorporated into the wooden logs that made up the exterior, created a magnificent sight.

You thanked the driver, who helped you with your luggage. They crossed the small wooden bridge that crossed the lake together, and you thanked him again when they stopped in front of the entrance, where a small, discreet door marked the entrance to the house.

"I'll stay here, thank you."

You hoped that without a car to take you back, Touya would think twice before sending you away. The man waved goodbye, walking to the car with a shocked expression. You didn't judge him. You were still too shocked by everything.

You took a deep breath, ready to knock on the door — there was no doorbell — when it was suddenly opened. You blinked, your brown orbs taking in the image of the pilot. Touya had disheveled hair, dark lines under his eyes, and was staring at you with a pouty expression that would normally irritate you in five seconds, but today you were patient.

"Hi, remember me? It's me, your girlfriend… you remember you have one, right?"

Touya arched an eyebrow, before rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, leaning against the door frame, absorbing your sarcasm.

"Oh, sorry for leaving you alone, doll." I didn't know you couldn't live without me for a few days anymore," he murmured, the corner of his lips raised, the scars on his cheeks and jaw stretching with the movement.

You clutched the bags in your hand, upset.

"So, you idiot, I'm going to disappear from your life for a few…

You felt your brain melt when his lips touched yours. Touya kissed you hard, pushing you against the wall, both hands holding your face possessively as he stole all your breath.

You clutched the bags even tighter, feeling the pilot's thin chest press against yours, your body shuddering at the contact, your lungs starting to burn with lack of air when he finally pulled away. The sound of their panting cut through the silence, and you opened your eyes, swallowing hard when you found two blue irises staring at you.

"Save your breath, doll," you swore you could hear some of your neurons dying when his voice reached your ears. His thumbs were still pressing against your cheeks while his other fingers were lost in your curls.

“I-I’m on my period…” you whispered, your eyes dropping to the pilot’s soft mouth, who giggled. “S-so…”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything, you pervert,” Touya replied, the cadence in his voice dropping even lower. You were thankful that your dark skin prevented him from seeing your face heat up as you became embarrassed, little knowing that your brown irises were giving away all your emotions to the Japanese man.

“A-ah, so… hmmm… are you okay?”

You had barely asked when Touya kissed you again, one of his hands going down to hold your waist, squeezing the spot possessively. He finally pulled away, and you shivered at the affectionate look you found in his eyes when you opened them.

“I feel really good right now, doll.” You laughed, and Touya closed his eyes, enjoying the sound, before inviting you in. He would never tell you how happy he was to see you on the surveillance cameras, how a stupid smile automatically appeared on his lips when he recognized you inside that car, and how he ran to brush his teeth and change his shirt, and almost fixed his hair but, damn, it would be too obvious.

He was terribly in love, and he was grateful for that. For being you.

#touya todoroki #bnha #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x you #dabi todoroki #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #touya fluff #himiko toga #lov bnha #lov mha #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #touya x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader

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gretavangroupie · 1 year ago

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The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 19.8k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Oral M! Receiving, Protected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

HER POV

The heat of your breath is fogging up the windows of the van as you drift in and out of a dazy snooze. The morning has already been long, with a wake-up time of 3:30AM to be on the van to the airport by 4:00AM. The flight to Amsterdam from Hamburg was short, only a little over an hour long, thank goodness. However, now all you can think about is getting checked into your hotel room and crashing back out for a couple of hours before you have to wake up again.

Paul, Wes, and Corri are occupying the seats toward the front of the van, and you’re thankful you can let your head rest on the window in peace. Your AirPods are stuck in your ears with the volume just loud enough that you could hear if one of them spoke to you, but still enough to fully enjoy the music floating through your ears. You don’t even dare listen to the playlist Jake made for you, it almost puts a sour taste in your mouth just looking at it, especially after what happened last night.

Of course Josh caught you. Of course it had to be him. But what is really still throwing you for a loop is why Josh felt he had to keep the encounter such a secret, locking his lips and doing away with the key.

Jake hadn’t said anything about your last addition of ‘High and Dry’, but you chalked it up to him just wanting to diffuse the situation after you left the bar, alone. You thought he might walk you back, given the situation you’d found yourself in just two nights prior, but he didn’t. He stayed, and let you go. And thankfully you’d made it back safely by yourself.

The more you think about it, the more you realize Jake had plenty of time to text a quick ‘Sorry about that’ or ‘We’ll talk tomorrow, goodnight…’ but he didn’t. Again. Just left you….high and dry. And what made it even worse was that as you were trying to fall asleep in your hotel room last night, you heard the faint sound of the song playing out in the hallway. Jake was coming back to his room, listening to the song you added for him as he meandered closer and closer. But instead of a knock on your door, all you heard was the latch of his closing.

You find yourself feeling a little pissed off, because the moment you shared in the dark bathroom really felt like something. It was…very fucking hot, if you’re being honest. He felt good. He felt strong, and sturdy, but also gentle and delicate when he needed to be. You can almost still feel how he felt between your legs, pressed up against you as you sat on the edge of the sink. His hands on your back, mouth on your neck, fingertips digging into your thighs….

“Y/N! Let’s get out of here!” You hear Corri’s brash voice wake you from your rated-R daydream, and you have to blink a few times to get the image of Jake all over you out of your head. You stretch a little and pull the music from your ears as the cab light comes on, and the four of you exit the van. You check into your far too luxurious hotel room, and crash onto the bed without even bothering to change your clothes.

—

Your alarm startles you two hours later, and surprisingly the cat nap has you feeling extremely refreshed. You jump from the bed and pull the curtains on the window, showing you the scene of a cloudy Amsterdam from your fourth-story room. You can feel the cold air moving through the window, and you know it’s going to be another bitterly chilly day.

After a quick rinse-shower, you sit back on the bed to check your phone and emails and see you have a text from an unknown number from just ten minutes ago.

Unknown

9:02AM: Hey! We’re going to go see the city and walk around a little, you want to go?

You deduce that it is probably Mia or Lyla, and you contemplate on whether or not you want to even move from your bed today. But after a little thought, and another glance to the sun barely peeking through the clouds, you decide, why the hell not. You don’t want to see Jake, really, but the regret you’d feel for not seeing Amsterdam while you’re here would probably be worse. You send up a quick prayer that Josh will keep your secret today, and not make things any more awkward than they already are.

You

9:04AM: Hey, sure! I’d love to 😊

Unknown

9:05AM: Cool! We’re leaving in an hour, we’ll meet up in the lobby. Dress warm!

9:05AM: This is Lyla, btw

You

9:06AM: Sounds great, see you in a bit

You lock your phone and stand up to finish getting dressed, adding on a few more layers to your already warm attire. Your stomach churns with nerves, but you’re excited to see the city and maybe get to know the girls a little better. Plus, Ruth is begging you for photos.

Speaking of Ruth…

You grab your phone and pull it from the charging cord, bringing up her contact for a FaceTime call. It rings out, and you press your eyeball directly to the front camera lens.

“Shit, what the hell, cyclops!” She yells as you pull away snickering.

“Why is it so dark in your room?” you ask, realizing you hadn’t even thought about the time difference.

“Because it’s two o’clock in the fuckin’ morning here, dimwit! I answered because you scared me. Are you okay?” she spouts off with her voice cracking from sleep.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine,” you laugh a little as she rubs her eyes in the light of her phone screen. “I’m in Amsterdam, thought I’d give you a rundown but, you need to go back to sleep,” you say.

“Ugh, if I didn’t have to wake up in three hours for work I would disagree with you. Yeah, just text me. Actually no, that will take too long. Send voice memos. Or a video or something.”

You take a quick breath. “I have a lot to tell you, Ruthie.”

“Fuck, seriously? Damn it, just…send something I don’t care. I gotta know. Is it bad news? It’s good news, right?” she goes on.

You roll your eyes a bit as you place your fingers over your mouth. “It’s…a lot. Good and, well not the best. Go back to sleep. I love you.”

“Kay nighty night.” Her last words were said with her eyes closed, and you know for a fact she’s already drifted back off into her slumber.

You plop onto your bed and scroll social media for a few minutes as you try to kill time, feeling your stomach start to growl and grumble against the mattress below you.

Maybe you should you add a song?

No… You’d be seeing Jake in the next little bit, and you were the last one to make contact. This is up to him, if he even wants to. You stand and grab up your long, heavy coat, making sure you have everything you need for the day before taking off to the lobby to grab a quick breakfast and wait on everyone else.

—

JAKE POV

The music swirling through the steamy air comes to a close as you spin the handle on the shower faucet, the water slowly trickling to a stop. The song she sent last night has been stuck in your head since you hung up with Isla, and you have let it be the soundtrack to your life in the hours since. You spent nearly the entire shower thinking about Y/N, listening along to the track and letting it seep into your bones. You thought about her, and only her for the past few days now. How you left her last night, and how you have yet to speak to her since. Even the plane ride this morning was spent in silence. You knew you needed to answer her song, say something to explain yourself. You were going to, you just had to figure it out, and now that you had time to sit down and think about it, uninterrupted, you would.

Get out, dry off, get dressed and answer her. You had a plan, and you were sticking to it.

You step out of the large walk in shower, wrapping the fluffy white towel around your waist. You take a second to look at your surroundings, remembering how only a few years ago you were all bringing towels from home, feeling lucky enough to shower in a rundown Motel 6 bathroom in the middle of nowhere. Your life had changed drastically in a matter of years, and it wasn’t long into that success when you first met Isla.

She was a vision of auburn hair as she swept through the bar that night, so light and so carefree. You could see why Lyla and Sam had befriended her, her personality very much the same as theirs. It wasn’t long after that night that the two of you started seeing each other, things quickly becoming serious. A year later she moved into your house. It was like she was always there, making the space her own and sharing her days with you. She was with you as the band really started to make moves, never once complaining about the late nights or the long stretches of tour, that is, until she did.

Things started to change last summer. The once light and vibrant girl you fell in love with had become catty and accusatory, her light burning out and her desire to be something other than your girlfriend dwindling away to nothing. It became her, consumed her, and suddenly you became an accessory instead of a partner. Nothing seemed to satisfy her anymore, and the time you could give her was never enough. She reminded you of that, often, as if there was anything you could do to change it. You fought like cats and dogs on any given day, each argument always ending in a band-aid resolution that never got you anywhere.

There were the big ones, the ones that would have you on the couch at Josh’s or in the guest room at Sam’s. The ones they didn’t ask about because they knew better, instead opening their homes and lending their liquor cabinet. The ones that you didn’t dare mention, even months after the fact, for fear of starting it all over again. Those fights started to get closer and closer together, until you found yourself almost needing to chip in for your brothers’ mortgage payments.

You knew it was done. You knew it was over, but the problem wasn’t that you couldn’t do it. No, the problem was that every time you would try, it wouldn’t stick. Listening to her tell you that your reasons were never good enough, or that it would be too hard to end things before you left. It was always before you left, and this time was no different.

Your phone buzzing on the bathroom counter snaps you back to reality, watching as it slowly inches its way closer and closer to the edge. You snatch it up as your hair drips down your back, sliding your finger across the glass as you scoff at the name on the Caller ID.

“Hello, Josh.”

“Oh, so they didn’t invite you either? Assholes…” he grumbles under his breath.

“Invite me where? Who?” you ask, making your way back into the room.

“Sam and Daniel, and the girls I guess…” he pauses, “Just checked their location to see if they wanted to get brunch and they fucked off into town without us. Not even an invite.”

“Really?” you ask, pulling your phone away from your ear to check your texts. “Shit, yeah, I didn’t get a text from them either. Though, I did tell them I was gonna catch a few more hours of sleep when we got here. Can’t you just go with Ty?” You groan, knowing you really planned to stay in your room all day and binge watch Criminal Minds.

“No. He went for a massage a little while ago, so now you have to go with me,” he says matter of factly.

“Do I? I don’t think I do, actually.”

“No, you do, it’s in the rule book,” he answers, an air of playfulness in his voice.

“The rule book…Don’t think I got one of those,” you joke, pulling on a pair of boxers.

“Yeah, they give it to the head twin, you know, the first one out,” he laughs. “I’m in charge, the book says so, and I say brunch with a Mimosa. If you’re good I’ll even get you a Bloody Mary, my treat. Meet me downstairs in like fifteen,” he says, ending the call before you even have a chance to decline. Fucker, he knew you too well.

You quickly dress yourself, checking your phone no less than five times just to see if maybe she had said something, but still there is silence. Your plan has officially gone to shit, no surprise there. You promised yourself you’d do it when you got back. No excuses. You huff out a sigh as you spray your cologne, grabbing your wallet and your phone and shoving them into your coat pocket. You make your way downstairs to meet Josh, finding him lounging in a wingback chair nearly double his size.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” you offer, watching him spring out of the chair, his white Nike’s scuffing loudly against the marble tiles.

“Did you text Dean?” you ask, pushing open the glass doors.

“Yeah, the place I want to go is just a block away, said to call him if we need him but keep our wits about us. Told him I would, but can’t speak for you since you don’t have any.”

You stop walking and start to turn around, definitely not in the headspace for his antics today. He stops too, and you feel him grab your arm and sling you back in the right direction.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, no games today, got it,” he says, feigning guilt.

You walk in silence the rest of the way, ducking into a little cafe with a heated patio. You felt like you hadn’t seen the sun in days and both of you quickly agree that the patio might be your only chance.

Your eyes scan the menu, looking for any words that seem familiar to you. You’re about half way through it when Josh pulls your menu down and looks you in the eye. You know what he wants, and you know you have to tell him, but you need a drink first, at the very minimum.

Saved by the bell your waiter comes to your table, taking your drink orders and rushing off before you could blink.

As expected the grilling starts, and much to your dismay you are alone on the patio with no chance of anyone hearing the two of you bicker.

“Alright Jake, I let you sleep on it. Time to talk,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest.

You rub your hand over your face, truly not knowing where to begin. You let out a sigh, and he seems to pick up on your inner turmoil.

“Start wherever, but I would probably choose the beginning.”

You move your fingers to your lips, looking at him with challenging eyes “What is it exactly that you want to know, Josh? I mean–”

“Cut the shit, Jake. What is going on? I want everything, top to bottom, now,” he snaps, aggression present in his tone.

“You’re mad for no fuckin’ reason, Josh!”

“No, I’m mad for great reason, Jake! You’re out here fucking around with our runner, two days into the tour mind you, while your girlfriend is back in Nashville living in your home!” he seethes, his fists clenched tightly on top of the white tablecloth.

Your blood is boiling as he finishes his tirade. “Knock it the fuck off, you know damn good and well she is not my girlfriend anymore!”

“Do I? Do I, Jake? Last I heard, you were ‘easing off for a little bit’...” he replies, gesturing air quotes.

“Do you honestly think that I would have been living in your house for the last month if we were ‘just ‘easing off’? You retort, gesturing the same air quotes.

Josh sits back in his chair a little, his aggression backing off just a little bit, enough for you to keep talking. “Explain.”

You blow out a breath of frustration, “She doesn’t get it, Josh. I can’t seem to get it through her head.”

“What?”

You bite your lips together before you answer, “I have tried to end things no less than five times in the last few months. There’s always some reason… Always something that…Fuck, I don’t know. It just never sticks. She won’t hear it,” you pause, “I was serious this time though, Josh. I told her point blank, I do not want to be together anymore. It was like I was speaking fucking Latin, she refused to hear me. We were up the entire night arguing, man. It’s… It’s just so done, and I’m the only one who can see it apparently.”

“So if she won’t accept it, you’re still technically together, though? She’s still in the house?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over his beard.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess? But also, No? The only way I could get the fuck out of that house in time to make it on the plane, was by agreeing to a ‘break’. But it’s not a break. I’m done, she knows I’m done. Told her she could still live in the house for a bit until she found her own place, but I told her, point blank, we needed to separate. No contact. You can see how that is going for her.”

“Does she know that you are…you know, seeing other people?” he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice.

“Am I supposed to care? We aren’t together!” you argue.

“But you kind of are Jacob!” he spits, “Look, I’m not trying to like, take her side here or whatever, but if she is under the impression you two are only on a break, I highly doubt she would be okay with you seeing other people. You’ll be labeled a cheater and god knows what else if she catches wind.”

“This is the messiest shit I have ever been a part of. I swear to god…” you groan, rubbing your hand over your face. “I seriously never thought I would find myself going through something like this.”

His brows pinch together in confusion, “So why didn’t you just say straight up, I want to separate, please move out of my home?”

“I mean, I kind of did, I think. It’s so much more complicated when you’ve been together as long as we have. We’ve had the exact same argument hundreds of times, that’s no exaggeration. She lives with me, man… I can’t just expect her to move out overnight, ya know? Which is why I agreed to the break. To give her time to…Get her shit together, I guess. But she knows I’m out. She has to know.”

“But she is still calling and texting you daily?” he asks.

“All fucking day everyday. I never reply, and she still continues. As if– as if nothing ever happened. Like I said, she is just not getting it,” you explain. “Every time I would come stay at your place, she would just… come up with some reason, or some excuse to get me to come home for a few nights. We would just bandaid the problem, until it just exploded again and I’d end up back at your house or at Sam’s. But I had to be careful at Sam’s because Lyla is her best fuckin’ friend. You’d think she would have caught the drift after so many nights of me crashing there that things weren’t good. I don’t know, I hate this shit, I have suffered long enough. I want out. And I fear that when we get home, I might have to take more drastic measures. And I don’t want that shit, either.”

“So things are a lot worse than you initially led on…” he states, shaking his head as he sips from his glass.

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit’s embarrassing, man. It’s rocky as hell and I don’t know what to do. I obviously still care for her as a person, but I just can’t do this with her anymore. I thought this time and space away from each other would help me get my head right and find a way to sort this shit out, but it seems like it’s only gotten worse and even more complicated since even a month ago, before we ever even left,” you continue.

“And now there’s Y/N…” he grimaces, truly starting to understand your predicament. “I mean, it’s really only been, what, two days?”

You let out a sigh and shake your head, “Yeah, yeah. But I can honestly say that I have felt more in the last two days for Y/N than I have felt for Isla in the last year.”

“Do you think maybe… She’s…just a distraction from your real feelings? Like a space filler type of thing while you figure out shit with Isla?” he asks, broaching the subject very gently. “To be fair, I don’t blame you at all, she’s really gorgeous and a lovely girl from the little I’ve talked to her.”

“I know it looks that way, trust me. I do. But, no… It’s something else. I know it's only been two days, but there is something there, and I have to explore it,” you admit. “Like I said, I feel things I haven’t felt in so long. Not just physical things, either. And yeah, I know she works for us, and shit, but I– It was about two minutes into that plane ride that I knew it didn’t matter. I had to get to know her.”

“Answer me this, do you still love Isla?” he asks, leaning his elbows onto the table as he gives you that horribly painful twin stare that you both can only give to one another. The kind that pulls the truth from you no matter how badly you might not want to admit it.

“I mean, I love her as a person, but no, I haven’t been in love with her in some time,” you confess.

“In your mind is there any chance of reconciliation?”

Your mind flashes through a hundred scenes of screaming fights, thrown objects, tears and accusations, “No. Not anymore,” you pause, rubbing your lips. “A week ago if you asked me that, I might have said maybe. It would be so easy to fall back into the good routine we had, everything would be good again for a little while at least, but it would change and we would be back to where we are now. Endless fuckin’ cycle. I can’t do that my whole life, Josh. I don’t deserve that. I was so excited about this leg of tour, just because she wasn’t coming. I could be alone and not go to bed mad and arguing every night. Do you know how fucked that is? That is not how I should feel about the person I am supposedly in love with. I should want her here, and I just don’t.”

He nods his head in agreement, sucking his teeth with a hiss.

“Two days with Y/N has proven to me just how unhappy I am in that relationship with Isla. How much I’m just…not in love with her anymore. It only confirms my decision,” you admit.

“So she’s calling and stuff to try and keep you strung along… So that you’ll come home and pick right back up on this nasty cycle the two of you are in…” he questions.

“Basically. Which is why I refuse to engage with it. She can text all she wants, I’m not answering her,” you snap. “Things aren’t black and white for her, they are very gray and for me they are stark white. I don’t know how to make it more clear.”

He drops his head and looks up at you as he leans on his elbows again, “Look, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I won’t say anything to anyone about last night, or whatever is going on with you and Y/N. I want you to be happy, and I can tell you haven’t been in a long time. I’m just really sorry I was such an ass. I wish you would have talked to me, you know, like we used to.”

“I know, I know. It’s my own pride that stopped me. I just, I feel like I'm on the precipice of being happy again, I just have to keep following it, even if it looks really bad from the outside,” you pause, “Also, you guys have to stop picking on her, she is innocent in all of this. She already thinks you guys don’t like her.”

“Oh, that's just not true, we all like her a lot, you have to tell her we don’t mean it,” he laughs, tilting his head to the side as he tosses back the rest of his mimosa. “Wait, does she know about Isla?”

“No, absolutely not,” you answer a little too quickly.

“Are you… planning on telling her?”

“Honestly, I haven’t really thought that far ahead, I mean, I know I need to. I wasn’t really planning on Isla blowing my phone up day and night. Guess I should have known better, huh?” you laugh, offering him a small smile.

“You need to tell her, Jake. Don’t fuck it up before you even get things started,” he offers.

“Don’t you know that’s my specialty?” you ask, sipping your spicy bloody mary. “I mean, last night is a whole other problem. When you saw us out there I had every intention of leaving that bar with her and taking her back to the hotel. It was all I could think about. But then you were out there with my phone and the shit with Isla. Fuck…I panicked. I just sent her back to the hotel. Left her out to dry like a fucking prick. Haven’t spoken to her since. She probably wants nothing to do with me at this point.”

“No, no I doubt that. She’s probably a little hurt, maybe a little confused, but I think she will come around. I saw the way she was looking at you last night,” he smiles. “But Jake, seriously. You have to tell her about Isla.”

“God, I know it just, why would I even be thinking about Isla when I’m with her? I swear it’s like none of it exists when we are with each other. Everything is easy.”

“Sounds like you found yourself someone special,” he smiles.

“I think you’re right.”

—

HER POV

The morning had been spent walking up and down the streets of Amsterdam, getting lost and finding your way again over and over as you navigated the map app on Danny’s phone. To your surprise, Jake and Josh hadn’t joined you. Just you, Sam, Danny, Lyla and Mia. It felt a little strange at first, and you felt the fifth-wheel anxiety hit you hard as you trailed behind them, the two couples happy and holding hands as you all explored. But luckily, at the last second, Dean joined you on the excursion, insisting that five of you needed an escort.

You’d taken the time to speak to Dean and get to know him a little; he’s a big burly man with cheeks that stay red and a beard and mustache that hide his mouth. He’s middle aged, and a man of few words, but you were determined to break through his exterior just a little bit, seeing as how he is one of your coworkers.

Now, as you all are heading back to the hotel with your arms full of various shopping bags and leftover food cart goodies, the conversation you’d worked so hard to start up with Dean is flowing freely. The two of you converse about the job, about travel, about where each of you are from and how you got hooked up with these crazy four. He’s fairly easy to talk to, and you find yourself very calm in his presence.

“I heard about what went down at the restaurant the other night, Ms. Y/N. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he admits as you watch Lyla and Mia pull the guys into a tiny boutique.

“Oh, no need to apologize,” you respond, a little surprised, “It was no big deal, really. I made a stupid mistake by going out alone that late, I learned my lesson. Just glad Jake was able to come help me out.”

“Still, it’s one of my responsibilities to make sure everyone is safe. Mr. Jacob made it very clear that you’re on that list, too.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and pushes a few buttons before speaking again. “I’m gonna get your number right now, so you never find yourself in a situation like that again.” You nod as you agree, knowing that you should have had his number saved a long time ago. You switch phones with him as you each enter your respective numbers, and he smiles as he locks his, pushing it back into the pocket of his coat. It hits you that Jake must have had a conversation with him.

“We’ve got more security coming, I’m sure you’ve heard. They should be here within the next few days. This is usually a one man job, but… I guess as the band gets more and more popular, these kinds of things just need to naturally grow along with them,” he explains, keeping his head on a swivel as he eyes each of them inside the store. “Turns into a team effort.”

You nod, pushing your windblown hair behind your ear before shoving your freezing hand back in your pocket. “I did hear about that. Bet it brings everyone peace of mind having more hands on deck, especially you,” you offer.

“Mmhm,” he replies, “Most definitely. I’ve met these guys before, think everybody will like them. Real straightforward outfit. I’m their head of security, but with the way this group operates, they’re probably gonna be calling most of the shots, if not all of them.” He sucks his teeth, and you can’t tell if he’s irked or maybe, a little bit relieved to have the help.

“You gonna be alright with that?” you press, hoping you’re not stepping on his toes.

He shrugs one shoulder, and you can see his eyes darting around behind his sunglasses. “I’m only one guy, Ms. Y/N.” His response is blunt, so you decide to leave it at that.

You take a second to browse the boutique, meeting up again with Lyla and Mia and gushing over sweaters and dresses that none of you could ever afford, and for the first time in two days, you’d gone more than half an hour without thinking about Jake. As soon as the memory of him and what happened last night flows back into your brain, you almost double over with a strange anxiety. You pull out your phone again, checking to see if he has texted at all, or added anything to the playlist, but you’re met with nothing. Nothing.

“Let’s go get a drink or something!” Mia finally suggests to the group as you congregate in front of the store on the sidewalk, and everyone agrees. “Danny baby, pull up somewhere to go.”

“Let’s just take off walking again, we passed like fifty pubs on the way here,” he argues, bursting through the group and walking down the sidewalk again. The tension feels like it has dissipated for the most part; you have to admit that at first you were still a little worried that things might be a little strange between all of you. But as soon as you all got a couple of drinks in you, the anxiety melts away, and you find yourself laughing along and fitting right in with them. The girls are really cool, and Danny and Sam together keep the conversation going with ease.

An hour or so later, you’re unlocking your hotel door and stripping the layers of clothing off as you now have gotten a little sweaty from the heat mixed with the alcohol. The sun had popped out a little, only adding to your need for a giant bottle of water, and to relax across your bed. As you scroll social media and flick through TV channels in languages you can’t understand, you find your mind drifting back to Jake again. At this point, you know he isn’t going to text. He isn’t going to call, he isn’t going to add another song. If he was going to, he would have by now. You swallow down the realization, flipping to your back to push a pillow over your face. You think about calling Ruth, but at the same time, you hardly even feel like talking about it.

Just as you're about to scream into the void, you hear a knock at your door. Who in the world? You stand up and adjust your clothing and hair, expecting Corri or Paul to be delivering you some information in person. You unlatch the deadbolt and swing the door open, finding none other than Jake leaning with one hand on your door frame, and the other gripping a single deep burgundy flower.

“Hey…” he mumbles, biting his lip.

“Hey, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” you fumble over your words, not only because you hadn’t spoken all day, but because he looked so overwhelmingly delicious standing there effortlessly dripping sex in your doorway that you almost catch yourself drooling. Loose, dark slacks, a black button up revealing his chest, his hair freshly washed and still damp around the roots… His skin is still glowing from the heat of his shower, and you can smell his body wash mixed in with that damn cologne he apparently carries with him everywhere. Your eyes flick to the flower hanging loosely from his fingertips before meeting his eyes again.

“I know, I should have called first, ‘m sorry…” he stumbles, pulling his hand from his pocket and swiping it across his nose.

“No no, it’s fine, um… did you need… you wanna come inside?” you weren’t quite sure what to offer at this point; he wouldn’t have shown up if he didn’t want to talk.

He stands up straight now, smoothing his hands over his shirt and then placing them both in his pockets. “No, actually, I came by to see if you would want to go on a walk with me,” he asks, a shyness in his tone that feels new to you. “And to bring you this.”

He extends his hand, offering you the dark red flower, multi petaled and fragrant. “Saw it earlier at a flower stand and I…I don’t know, I thought of you. Thought you should have it.”

You accept it from his fingers, bringing it to your nose to take in its earthy smell, “It’s beautiful, what is it?”

“It’s a Dahlia, I believe. The vendor said it was a Black Dahlia, but it looks dark red to me. I don’t know, I just thought it was pretty. Thought of you.” he smiles nervously. You stare at him as you twist the flower under your nose and think about his question.

“So, a walk?” you reiterate, finding the idea both exhausting and appealing, seeing as how you had just gotten back from an extremely lengthy one with everyone else. “I really should stay in tonight, I… dunno…”

“Please?” he asks, squinting his eyes. “Just a short one, we don’t have to go far. I just– I saw something cool today, and I thought you might like to see it, too. Wanna show you…”

You huff a little as you lean your head on the edge of the open door. His eyes are pleading, and you can tell there’s more to his little plan than simply showing you something.

Maybe he wants to talk. Maybe he wants to explain things… sort it all out…

“Okay. We can go. But, I have to get dressed first,” you say, already dreading putting all those layers back on, but not feeling so bad about it because now you’ll be with him. You feel a little reluctant, the pissed-off feeling you’d had all day still lying heavily present in your mind. But, he’s making an effort, at least…

“Take your time. I’m just a floor up, 507,” he starts to back away, the tiniest satisfied grin forming on his face. His eyes travel up and down your body so fast you almost miss it. “Just come knock when you’re ready.”

You close the door as he rounds the corner to the elevator, and you can’t help but feel that rush of nerves fly up your body again. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he came to your door. With a flower. God, what a gentleman. You place the flower on the dresser, your heart pounding at the sweet gesture. You rush into the bathroom to freshen everything up and spruce your tangled hair, brushing some powder across your face and adding a little more mascara. You re-apply your favorite perfume to your wrists and neck, taking a little extra time to make sure you looked presentable in the full-length mirror on the wall.

When you feel as if your appearance is as good as it's gonna get, you sit on your bed, wanting to make Jake wait for you just a little bit longer. You go ahead and pull up a facetime call with Ruth, waiting for the tone to ring out.

The screen opens with Ruth holding up one finger, mouthing for you to hang on as she finishes out what looks to be a very annoying phone call with a client. She spins in her chair as she rolls her eyes, letting her head look at the ceiling as she uses her formal, professional voice to end the call.

“...You have an excellent day, ma’am. Mhm. Thank you, Buh-bye,” she presses a button on her phone and rips her headset off, fumbling for her airpods as she picks up her phone. “Oh my GOD today has been insane and I hate everything,” she complains as you watch the screen fill up with her face, and you hear the sound of her acrylic nails tapping all over her screen. You patiently wait, watching her loudly chew her gum, knowing that she has to clear away her notifications before she can even begin to have an uninterrupted conversation with you. “Okay I’m ready what the fuck has happened?!”

You laugh, giving her the rundown of everything that happened since you last spoke, her facial expressions letting you know she is hanging on your every word. “...And now, he just showed up at my fucking door, and asked me on a date, I guess? After basically dry humping me in the bathroom then sending me home without another word,” you finish, whispering your words as if he could hear you. “I dunno, Ruth. Should I even go?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Yes you should go. Give him a chance to explain, at least. He wouldn’t have shown up to your door if he didn’t really want you to come, ya know?” she says, immediately noticing her word choice, and slyly smiling as she bounced her eyebrows.

“Shut the fuck up. Ugh, yeah, you’re right. Does this outfit look okay?” you stand back and flip the camera around showing her yourself in the mirror.

“Slayyyyyyyy that jacket is hot, where on earth did you even get it?!” she rolls her eyes.

“From you. For my birthday. When you found out I was going to a colder climate,” you laugh. “Okay, I'm gonna go, I guess. I’ll text you later.”

“Live updates, please. I want to know the way this man ticks,” she teases.

“Shut up. Bye.” You end the call and grab your purse, making sure your room key is in your bag. You also make sure to grab the jacket Jake sent you home in last night, not able to bear another second staring at it draped across the back of the chair.

—

“Thought you might want this back,” you say when Jake opens the door, taking the coat from your outstretched hand.

He smirks as he takes it, tossing it behind him to land on some unknown surface. “Looks better on you, but it’s one of only three jackets I brought with me.” You both laugh a little as you make your way down the hall and to the elevator. The whole ride down is silent, with both of you standing at opposite sides, more or less feeling no shame in drinking the other in. His arms and ankles are crossed as the elevator descends, and you can feel his eyes boring into you.

“You look really nice today,” he offers as you exit the lobby and head back out into the freezing cold air.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, feeling the blush creep to your cheeks. “So do you…” you wanted to gush about how perfectly his hair is sitting around his face, how his shirt and jacket are hanging across his shoulders, how poised he just always seems to be without even trying… but you don’t. You hope to god you don’t run into any of his brothers, or anyone that you work with; coming up with an explanation why the two of you are out alone together again is something you truly don’t feel like dealing with right now. “So where are we going?”

“It’s called The Jordaan. It’s a really old neighborhood, with a canal going through the center. Bunch of little shops and stuff. Did you guys walk this way this morning?” you notice the lilt in his voice.

You shake your head. “No, we went the opposite way,” you answer. It’s quiet for just a minute more as you pass by the crowds and other people on the streets. “Why didn’t you and Josh come along?”

He takes a quick breath. “Eh, we didn’t really receive an invite, honestly,” he laughs, stroking his fingers over his mustache. “Had to be Lyla or Mia’s idea to go, if I had to guess.” He was right, but you still felt bad. “But it was okay, me and Josh went to eat and got to… talk a little without the interruption of the other two. Kinda rare these days,” he smiles, and his knuckles brush across yours just barely. The light touch sends your bloodstream to a raging fire, and you have to stifle down the pull to grab his hand altogether.

The sun is peeking through the heavy cloud cover of the evening, and you find yourself staring at the way Jake’s pulled his sunglasses to sit on top of his head, letting the gleam of the sunlight bounce into his mocha colored irises. He looks you in the eye each and every time he speaks, and commands your complete attention away from everything else around you. You’re pulled into him, letting your bodies barely touch and move together as you walk along. This attraction feels different than the heated, blurry, intense pull you had to one another last night. This feels innocent, even though you both know that it’s anything but.

You turn a corner as you come along to the long line of homes and buildings, multicolored and old in their exteriors but, still holding just the right amount of charm to be an attraction. You catch yourself looking above to see the craftsmanship of them. “Wow…” you exclaim quietly as you peer up at the finely detailed architecture, staring in awe at the shape they are still in. You pull your phone from your pocket and start to take photos, zooming in on the details and making a mental note to send them straight to Ruth later.

You walk up onto a little footbridge lined with parked bikes and people stopped to take photos. Suddenly Jake is behind you, barely resting his chin on your shoulder. “Gimme your phone, let me take your picture,” he murmurs in your ear.

“Oh no, that’s okay…” Before the words can even escape your lips, he’s snatched your phone and started backing up, glancing behind him and back to your phone every few seconds.

“You’re really good at taking my phone away and doing whatever you want with it, you know!” you yell at him in aggravation.

He motions his free hand for you to scoot sideways, and then again for you to stop where you are. He snaps a few, turning the phone on its side to get every angle he can. You stand a bit awkwardly, hating that people are having to stop when they notice they are walking in line of the photo. Finally he finishes and rushes back over to you. “They look good! See?” he says, handing your phone back and swiping through them with you. “Now you’ll have record.”

You walk past a few secondhand shops and stores, and suddenly, something in one of the windows catches your eye. “Oh my god, look at that!” you squeal, pointing to a glimmering red dress sitting perfectly on a mannequin. It isn’t like any dress you’d seen before; it looks vintage, bright cherry red velvet with sewn-in sequins weaved throughout. It’s tight, but not too tight, and short and lacking fabric in all the right places.

“Damn, you should go try it on!” Jake exclaims, obviously agreeing with your surprise at how pretty it is.

“Nah, I shouldn’t…” you say, walking away from the window.

“No, you should, actually. That dress is hot, Y/N,” he says, elbowing you in the ribs. “And I think you’d make it a hundred times hotter.”

You scoff. “Be quiet, no I would not.”

“Prove me wrong, then,” he challenges with a smirk, opening the door to the shop, and holding his hand out to invite you inside.

You step inside, and are immediately greeted by a man dressed in a formal tuxedo. He notices that you are not local during his greeting, and switches to rough English.

“Eyeballing the red number, are you madam? Give me one second, I’ll grab it off the mannequin for you,” you and Jake lock eyes as the man flits away, straight for the window. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation and gives you a grin so adorable you almost melt into putty right there in the store.

“Here you are ma’am, please, be careful, very old dress,” he explains, handing you the dress on a hanger and opening a curtain for you to go behind.

“Go ahead,” Jake mouths, pushing you into the small dressing room.

You stand almost naked in front of the mirror as you slip the soft, tight fabric over your thighs, your stomach, and finally over your shoulders. Jake was right, it fits you perfectly. The velvet material snatches your waist and bust, and cuts right above your knee. Its sequins shimmer in the overhead light, but aren’t so overwhelming that it looks showy. It’s something you could dress up, or dress down. You reach behind you and pull the zipper up only halfway. Of course.

You take a deep breath and pull the curtain back, finding Jake to have taken a seat on a plush maroon ottoman. His jaw drops as you walk toward him, and yet again, you feel the heat rise in your face. You continue walking toward him, turning at the last second with your back to him, pulling your hair to the side. “Finish doing me up?” you say, immediately realizing that could be taken in a way you didn’t really mean. But also kind of mean, if you’re being honest.

You hear him swallow and he stands, and feel his warm hand slowly grip the zipper and pull it up, his other hand resting gently on the back of your hip, this thumb barely squeezing at the muscle. He takes his time, moving the zipper at the slowest pace imaginable. “Everything alright back there?” you whisper over your shoulder, hearing your own voice tremble.

You hear the air push from his nose as he leans in a little closer. “Just taking my time… might be the only time I get to touch you this way…”

Your eyelids flutter closed at his words. You lick your lips, trying to calm your second heartbeat. “What makes you think this will be the only time?”

He finishes the zip, spinning you to turn and face him. He shrugs one shoulder. “Just don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he growls. “Take that as a compliment…if you wear that out in public, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the hordes of guys that would be following you around.”

You scoff at him, and the absolute absurdity of his statement. He has no idea how pretty he is, does he?

“Shh. That’s a lie,” you say as you turn back and motion for him to unzip you. He does, this time with a little more haste. You make your way back into the dressing room and switch back into your clothing, hanging the beautiful specimen back on the hanger the man had provided you with.

“What? You’re not getting it?!” Jake stands as you make your way back toward the employee.

“No, Jake! I can’t buy that! It’s too–”

“Perfect? Because you looked… I–I can’t even explain… You have to get it, Y/N,” he argues.

You hand the dress back to the man in the suit. “No. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to wear something like that…” you go on, internally screaming at how badly you really would like to have it.

“Let me get it for you, then,” Jake says. “It’s not even that expensive…”

“NO!” you squeal. “I mean, no thank you. Please, Jake. It’s completely fine,” you say as you begin to walk toward the exit. You simply could not let him buy this for you. No. Huh-uh. Absolutely the hell not.

He reluctantly follows you out of the store, still playfully going on and on about how you just made a huge mistake. You turn and face him, your face only inches from his. You grab both of his hands in yours, snickering a little at the surprised look on his face. “Jake, I appreciate the compliments, but I’d really like to get on with our date, now.”

JAKE POV

Her words send a shockwave through your system. “Date? So it’s a date now?” you ask, your hands cupped in hers as he looks you in the eyes.

She turns and begins walking again, and you have to physically tell yourself to move your legs and follow along. “You came to my door, asked me to go on a walk because you wanted to show me a certain specific special thing… now we’re exploring and talking and trying on dresses, I’d qualify this as a date,” she turns and gives you a teasing look of intrigue. “Just missing the food part, but I think it would still count.”

A smile comes to your lips as you realize she’s right. “You hungry?” you ask, finally catching up with her.

“No, I’m just kidding. Let’s go down to the riverside,” she points a little ways away, seeing that there is a sidewalk that runs alongside the water.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you trudge along, the two of you taking in the scenery and the water beside you. The air is still blowing cold, but neither of you seem to mind. “So if we’re gonna qualify this as a date, maybe we should get to know each other a little better,” you suggest, earning a scoff from her.

“Seems a little backwards seeing as how we kinda already–”

“I know, I know,” you laugh. “Um, let’s see. Did you play any sports in school?” you ask.

“I played volleyball all four years, golfed with my dad on the weekends sometimes when he was around… Other than that, not really,” she explains.

“Shit, don’t tell Danny you like golf,” you go on. “He’ll capture you in a week-long conversation and then ask you to go play a round in every country we visit,” you laugh.

“Ummm, what’s your favorite holiday? And you can’t pick Christmas…” she says, pushing her pointer finger into your shoulder.

“Hmm, so, I think it’s a tie between the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, because in July we’re always out of the country somewhere really beautiful, or we’re all at home blowing shit up together. I’m always really happy that time of year. And then Thanksgiving, because I will eat the fuck out of mashed potatoes any chance I get,” you say.

She laughs again, the sounds of her voice making your insides warm. “Your answer was better than mine!”

“Let’s see… What's your best friend’s name?” Noticing that she hasn’t really mentioned anyone.

“My best friend’s name is Ruth, we’ve been friends since elementary school. She’s… a complete idiot,” she laughs. “We still talk pretty much daily about anything and everything,” she explains. “Don’t have any secrets.”

“Oh so, she’s… getting the rundown of your whole European adventure in real time, isn't she?” you ask, wondering if she had been giving her a play by play of the whirlwind last few days you'd shared together.

She purses her lips and squints her eyes as her hand brushes past yours. “Guess you could say that…”

“Damn!” you laugh, feeling embarrassed. “Don’t tell me you included our bar bathroom escapade…”

Suddenly she’s tripping over her words. “I mean... No! I told her a little but like, not details or anything ya know, but she…I–”

“So she knows we almost hooked up but thankfully stopped just in time that my brother didn’t catch things getting too out of hand…” you say confidently, wanting to see the blush rush her cheeks again.

She stops, standing stiff in her place. “Okay, Jake. Caught me. Sue me, shit.”

You continue walking, pulling her along by the hand. “I’m kidding, I don’t care. I hope to meet her one day.”

She looks at you from the side of her eye, “I hope you do, too. Okay, who’s your best friend?”

“You really want me to answer that?” You’re surprised she can’t already tell. “I’ve got three built right in. All three pains in my ass but I love ‘em.”

“How sweet, Jake. Man, you do have a heart under there, somewhere!” she teases.

“Of course I do baby, I’m actually a sweetheart, didn’t you know?” you respond in a very piratical voice. “Alright, favorite music genre. This is the big one, answer carefully…”

“Ahhh, well…” she looks to the ground, truly contemplating her answer. “You already know the Alt-J stuff you added was way out of my normal choice, I actually listen to um, a lot of harder stuff, I guess you could say. Some metal, hard rock, also older country, some psych stuff. It runs the whole gambit,” she laughs, seeming like she was shy to admit it all.

“Wow,” you say. “So like, almost the exact opposite of what we’re into.”

“Kind of, I mean it probably overlaps… I love the stuff you’ve added to the list. And I’m sure there’s a few classic dad rock songs you like, don’t lie…” she smiles.

“Ehhh,” you argue, “Maybe a few…” you feel a sudden slight disappointment in the fact that the two of you probably will not be able to talk music much. But, that’s okay…

“Me and my dad used to go to rock shows a lot when I was a kid. I’ve seen all the country greats a few times a piece. Just something about that sound, you know? Reminds me of home, it’s very nostalgic… I’m sorry, I’m rambling…” she says, brushing the hair from her face as you find yourself enraptured in her words.

“No, no… it’s okay, ramble on…”

Light bulb.

You sneakily pull your phone from your pocket, adding that very song to the playlist, hoping she won't notice right off the bat, but hoping she will understand soon that you would listen to her ramble all day long. As she continues to talk, you can’t help but notice all the ways that she is so different from Isla. Like night and day. She listens to you when you speak, she doesn’t ever come at you with condescending words unless she’s being playful, she is sure of herself, and confident…and gives you that feeling down deep in your gut that tells you she’s something special. Though you’ve only known her a few days, it’s already obvious that she offers every single thing that Isla doesn’t, never has, and most likely never will. Instead of the uneasy, walking on eggshells feeling that you have everytime you’re with Isla, you get the confident, self-assured and joyful feeling in Y/N’s presence. And something is telling you to hold onto it.

Speaking of Isla… you really need to tell Y/N about her. It’s only right. It isn’t fair to her that she doesn’t have a clue, you wouldn’t have wanted to be left in the dark if the roles were reversed. You swallow, opening your mouth to start the conversation without having a clue where to even begin. But your thoughts are interrupted by Y/N’s sweet voice bringing you back down to earth again.

“I know you bargained for a short walk, but what if we went up there to that little pub and see what they have to offer?” she asks, smiling a toothy grin.

Maybe the time isn’t now…

“Lead the way, love.”

—

HER POV

Warm. Everything is just so warm. Your body, your face, his smile. Warm. The room is a dull hum of noise around you, your world growing still as he sits in front of you. You watch him in wonder as he talks about music and his passions, your face propped up on your fist. You know you must look positively smitten, and to be honest you kind of are. The two of you are giggling back and forth, even though nothing is really that funny. But that was the beauty of it. You can tell you are blinking slowly and try to reign it in as the nearly half a liter of beer swirls through your bloodstream. You can’t help but smile at him while he talks, his eyes locked on yours as a smile stretches across his own face.

You wonder how he is even able to hold a conversation right now, your brain reduced to mush as you continue to sip on your beer. He’s happy, you can tell, a dimple has appeared in his cheek and hasn’t left in nearly an hour. You can’t stop looking at it, at him. Everything about him. The twinkle lights over head have cast a perfect yellow glow on his tan skin, just as the sun starts to dip down below the river the two of you walked here from.

“You still with me, beautiful?” he asks, his knuckles brushing against yours.

“I’m here, but barely.” you laugh, “Why aren’t you feeling the alcohol yet?” you tease, taking a rather large gulp of your beer. You know he definitely has a higher tolerance than you do, but you can tell he is a little more smiley than usual. You place the large glass tankard back on the table as he stares at you, his eyes wide and sparkling.

“What?” you ask, feeling a bit bashful in your drunken state.

“You’re just…so– you’re just really pretty and it makes me feel, I don’t know, shy I guess,” he answers truthfully, biting his lips together nervously.

You feel your chest burst into flames, the heat radiating up your face to your already flushed cheeks.

“I like it when you blush,” he breathes, which of course makes you blush harder. “Like it best when it’s because of me.”

You feel all of your nervousness and anxiety melting away as he looks at you, and suddenly with the help of the beer, you feel brave enough to ask the question that has been on your mind all day.

“Jake?”

He nods his head ever so slightly, letting his fingertips drift across your knuckles.

“Why didn’t you answer? My song, how come you didn’t say anything?” you ask, swallowing down your last bit of nervousness.

He drops his head a little, grabbing your hand in his, letting his thumb skate across your skin. “I searched and searched for a song that I could respond with last night. One that would articulate what I wanted to say, but I just…I couldn’t find one. I felt like absolute shit after you left, Y/N. Really, I did. I fell asleep with that damn song on replay until my alarm went off this morning. It got in my head, and that’s when I decided I wanted to go on this walk today. Make it up to you.”

You stare at him for just a second, letting a smile slowly creep to your lips. He notices and you watch him as he visibly relaxes. He was nervous, too.

His eyes are locked on yours, both of you saying a thousand things with zero words. You let his words sink in, storing away each one until your heart feels a little bit lighter.

“Well, you better think of a good one tonight,” you tease, rubbing your thumb against his.

His phone buzzes on the table top, his eyes flashing down to it, then to you in panic.

“It’s fine,” you nod, gesturing for him to grab it. “I don’t mind, really.”

He picks it up and clears his throat, the loss of his hand from yours stings a little but you know he will do it again.

“From Josh,” he starts reading the message out loud, “Where are you? I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.”

He smiles and laughs as his thumbs type back a response.

“Oh, another one,” he pauses, “We’re meeting up for dinner, just the guys, in an hour.”

His face drops a little, his eyes looking across the table to you. He locks his phone and sets it back on the table, his hand seeking yours out again.

“We should probably get going if you’re gonna make it back in time,” you offer, taking another sip of your beer.

He lets out a painful sigh, “I don’t really want to. I want to stay out…with you. I see them all the time.”

“No, no, no, you’re in Amsterdam with your brothers. They want to see you. Don’t change your plans around for me,” you insist.

He looks conflicted, you can tell he really does want to stay here with you, but he also knows he needs to meet up with them.

“Well, what about you? What will you do?” he asks, tracing his index finger around your hand.

You smile and shake your head, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll probably just go back to my room and do whatever it was I was going to do before you knocked on the door.”

He smiles and nods, licking his lips before speaking again, “If you’re sure, this is supposed to be me making it up to you for leaving you last night, now I seem to be doing it again.”

“Wanna know a secret?”

He raises his eyebrows in question, ready to hear your answer.

“I forgave you for that about two minutes into our walk,” you smile, squeezing his hand in yours.

—

He walks with you back to the hotel, his hand never leaving yours for a second. His grip is firm and warm, everything you ever dreamed of. You talk about the shops and the sights, and he tries again to convince you to buy that dress, bartering that he was going to have to go back and buy it himself if you refused.

As you step up to the hotel door you pause, turning and looking at him in the glow of the streetlights. “You don’t have to walk me all the way up, I think I can find it.” you tease.

“Alright, well, um, can I text you?” he asks, his tone reverting back to that of a nervous fifteen year old boy.

You feel the butterflies taking flight in your stomach, flapping their wings so hard you feel like you might take off with them. “Yeah, you can text me whenever you want to.”

A huge smile spreads across his face, “Yeah, alright, cool. I’ll um, I’ll text you then.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you answer, watching him stifle back his smile as he steps back a bit, bringing your hand to his lips. He places a soft and gentle kiss to the top of your hand, his cold lips barely grazing your skin, and sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Won’t be long,” he smiles, stepping away and turning to head back down the street.

—

JAKE POV

You follow the walk route to the pin that Josh had dropped, finding yourself at a tiny pub down a back alleyway of a street. The place is crowded and warm, ambient lights with the damp smell of cigars lingering in the air. You mosy through the crowd, hoping that no one recognizes you and stops you for a drunken conversation or autograph.

Luckily it doesn’t happen, and you find Danny, Sam, and Josh tucked away at a high-top table in the corner. “There he is! Took you long enough!” Danny yells over the loud crowd, the first one of them to spot you.

The other two turn to face you, pulling your stool out for you to take. “Your beer is probably warm, now…sorry,” Sam says, pointing to yet another giant mug of beer, just the same as the one you’d just finished off.

“Fuck, thanks…” you say, tiptoeing to hop up onto the high stool. You simply can’t help the shit-eating grin that’s plastered across your face, even with all the maximum effort you have left in you. You take a large sip, finding the beer to still be fairly cold.

“Where have you been already today? You look flushed and far too jovial…” Josh presses, rubbing his hands together with his elbows resting on the table.

“Cold outside,” you say, shooting him a look.

The bullshitting and argumentative discussions commence as everyone obviously begins to feel their alcohol, and you take the distracted time out to text Y/N, letting her know you made it safely.

You

9:18PM: I’m here, but already wishing I never left

You attach a quick photo of your giant beer, and include the eye-rolling emoji.

Y/N

9:20PM: omg 😂 good luck choking another one down

You

9:21PM: Ye have little faith 🍺

A minute later you receive a photo of her room service sprawled out across the bed in front of her, chicken fingers and fries and some type of dipping sauce. You smirk at how cute she probably looks in whatever outfit she chose to get comfy in, and wonder what she looks like. You notice the TV in the background, and recognize the movie that she has playing.

You

9:24PM: Looks tasty

9:24PM: Damn, is that Wedding Crashers?

Y/N

9:25PM: Yes, I fucking love this movie

You run your hand over your face.

You

9:26PM: That sucks, I quite literally can’t stand that movie

Y/N:

9:26PM: 😱😱😱😱😱😱

9:26PM: You’re insane, this is one of my favorite movies of all time! Why do you hate it!

You

9:27PM: Dunno, not a sucker for cheap comedy I suppose

You’re interrupted by Sam’s snapping fingers in your face. “Hellooooo, Jake, you with us? Tell Isla to leave you the fuck alone, it’s guys’ night!”

You feel your eyes widen at his comment and glance at Josh, who is mirroring your exact expression behind his folded hands.

“Uh, sorry, sorry yeah.” You put your phone down on the table and try your best to be present with them, getting caught up in your normal absurd conversation. Your phone continues to light up and buzz on the table.

“You gonna get that?” Josh asks slowly and quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. You ignore him, finishing off the last bit of your beer that went down exceptionally quicker than you thought it would. Everyone is sufficiently intoxicated, and you have to admit, you’re having a really great time letting loose. The drinks are flowing, and the air is high-spirited all the way around. Danny is taking funny videos of Sam and Josh as they try their hand at some type of trick with a coin and a bottle cap, so you take the second to check your phone again. But what you see brings your serotonin level down just a notch.

Isla

10:12PM: Hey, what’s up?

10:27PM: Why aren’t you answering me babe :(

10:29PM: I miss youuuuu, you never called back last night

10:33PM: Saw Danny’s close friends story, glad to see you having fun ignoring my texts! 👋🏼

10:37PM: Can you accept my location request

10:42PM: I can see your phone in front of you Jake

You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet oh…my…god, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“What’s up?” Josh asks, and you turn your phone for him to see. His eyes instantly widen as he reads.

“This…is the shit I’ve dealt with for the last three years. I can’t—” you cut yourself off, feeling your jaw clenching with aggravation.

Josh settles back in his chair. “Fuck, I had no idea…”

“What, what is it?” Sam and Danny basically simultaneously ask, seeing the disdain falling over the both of you at the same time.

“Nothin’, just a sad video,” Josh lies.

You decide to let Isla’s antics roll off your shoulders; you’re having too good of a night to let her whining bring you down. Things with Y/N are starting to heat up, and you find your tipsy self teetering on the edge of risk. You pull her texts up again, finding that she had responded a while ago.

Y/N

9:30PM: You’re crazy, this movie is fuckin hilarious

You decide to change up the game a bit, adding a song that reflects exactly how you’re feeling right now. You scroll through your library and land on it, bringing up the option to add it to your shared playlist. It’s perfect, ‘In the Mood For You’ by The Record Company.

She responds with a text a minute later, a string of five or six laughing emojis. You’re then met with a song addition on her end, ‘Are You Sure?’ by Willie Nelson.

Holy shit holy shit. You feel your stomach get warm and your head starts to swim at the thought of where this could go, where you want it to go. You take a deep breath as the excitement builds in your system, and you can physically feel your body getting warm. You want to scream. Your eyes begin to cross a little as your thumbs hover over the screen, flicking around as you decide what to do.

The next thing you know, Sam is setting another beer in front of your face, this one thankfully much, much smaller than the other one you had just finished off. Mother fucker...Gonna be very drunk.

You decide to skip out on a text, keeping this little game the two of you have going. You pull up the song search, adding ‘No One Else’ by Weezer. Perfect.

Seconds later, you receive a text.

Y/N

10:56PM: I’ll think about it…….

You feel your cheeks grow pink.

Just then another comes through from Isla.

Isla

10:57PM: Ignoring me isn’t going to fix anything, Jacob.

You scoff, shaking your head. You turn the phone to Josh again.

“God, block her fucking number. I’m so serious,” his voice raises a little, laced with a protective tone.

You ignore it, flipping back over to your texts with Y/N, suddenly feeling emboldened.

You

10:59PM: Think about what, exactly?

You lick your lips as you set the phone down, glancing around to see no one paying attention to you all up in your phone again. A minute later, you receive a photo. You click the message and watch as the attachment comes to life.

It’s a selfie of Y/N sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a barely-there black silk pajama set, with the object of the photo obviously the empty side of the bed behind her.

Y/N

11:01PM: You, here.

Son of a fucking bitch, she is gonna be the death of you. You pull your phone up so no one can see the picture, and you take a second to stare at her soft skin in the silk material, her hair a little messy but lying perfectly. She’s smiling just a little, and the dim light is bouncing off her features in all the right areas.

You

11:03PM: Absolutely stunning

11:03PM: Are YOU sure?

Your heart is positively racing, watching as her text bubble pops up.

Y/N

11:04PM: Only if you want to…

As the breath hitches in your throat as you’ve quite literally forgotten how to breathe, you take a second more, starting in on the beer Sam had provided. You lock your phone, trying to make up your mind of how to answer. What to do, what to do…

You finally decide to reply with a bold text.

You

11:06PM: I think I can make that happen…😉

11:06PM: We shouldn’t be much longer

You get dragged back into conversation with the guys, and fifteen or so minutes later, everyone is gearing up to leave. You glance down at your phone a few minutes later, seeing that she hasn’t responded. Weird.

Everyone stands to leave, and the alcohol hits you in the face. Yeah, pretty fairly intoxicated. You exit the building, feeling someone standing behind, close by. You turn to see Dean bringing up the rear of the group. “Whoa, where did you come from you scary motherfucker?” you tease, earning a big, warm smile from him.

“Been sitting at the bar all evening, Mr. Jake,” he responds, pointing for you to catch up with the rest of them.

You rest a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re really good at your job, Dean. I never even knew you were there, should have come and had a drink with us.” You feel your words slurring a bit. Just then, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket incessantly.

“I wet my whistle with a shot of Jameson as soon as we got there, water the rest of the night,” he replies without looking at you. You laugh and step to the side a bit, pulling your phone out to see Isla calling. Fucking son of a bitch. You slide to answer it.

“What, Isla? Fuck!” your tone is a bit more harsh than you had expected, but warranted nonetheless.

Then, all you can hear on the other line is a rush of screams and yells, her voice loud and her words cramming as she lets you know how she feels. You pull the phone away from your ear, holding it there until you find a chance to speak again.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, can you–”

Her screams continue, and you realize exactly how this is going to go. How it’s gone hundreds of times before. She’s not gonna let you speak. And honestly, you’re too intoxicated to talk, anyway. You set it to speakerphone as Josh falls back to walk with you. You shake your head as you allow your twin to listen to her incessant rambling. “You hear this shit?” you mumble. The two of you listen for a second more before you realize you can’t do it anymore.

“Isla, I’m hanging the phone up. Call me when you can have a mature conversation. Bye.” You don’t even wait for her to retaliate before pressing the big red button. In a huff, you bring up your text thread to see if Y/N has responded. Like the gods of divine intervention decided to reign down their bad luck upon you, you find that you had in fact sent those last two risky texts, to Isla.

“FUCK!” you yell, stopping in your tracks, hitting your palm to your forehead. “Fuck fuck fuck!” How could you have been so stupid?! Of course she had a reason to call and yell at you…

Your fingers move to Y/N’s thread, and you see that you were the one who had left her on read. You’re in the lobby of the hotel now, and everyone is dispersing to head to the elevator or down the halls to their respective rooms. You snap away for a second to tell them goodnight, before deciding to take the stairs up to your room. You needed a second, and to work off some of your drunkenness.

You finally pop into your room, feeling completely idiotic for accidentally sending the right text to the wrong number. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping it will bring you back to earth a little bit, but finding it to have only made your splotchy face and tinted cheeks worse. You brush your teeth and take a piss, finally settling on the edge of your bed to think.

Fuck it, you finally decide, bringing up your texts with Y/N once more.

You

11:47PM: I think I can make that happen…

Surprisingly, she responds within the minute.

Y/N

11:47PM: Hey. Thought you had found someone else to sneak away to the bathroom…

Your nerves flush up all over again. We’re still in the clear.

You

11:48PM: Don’t be crazy fledgling. I’m finding you in 5 minutes.

HER POV

Five minutes? Five minutes! You stare at the screen for a few seconds before your brain starts to work again, giving you a mile long to-do list before he knocks on the door.

“What!? What! What does it say?! Hello! Why do you look panicked!?” Ruth asks from the other end of the phone.

“Oh my god, he’s coming to my room. Right now, he’s on his way right this second, holy shit I have to– I have to clean up! I need to brush my teeth, brush my hair? Shit, I can’t be wearing this! Oh my god, shit I do not have enough time!” you screech, tearing across the hotel room to clean up the best that you can.

“Focus on yourself first! He doesn’t care about your messy room! Put on some deodorant for the love of god! Did you shave your legs today?! Wait, did you end up bringing that little black sleep set thing we found?” she asks, trying to help you prioritize.

“Yes! I’m wearing it stupid! Can you not see me?!” you shout, the clocking continuing to tick by.

“Fuck off, it’s blurry! Okay just go brush your teeth, brush your hair, deodorant, then let's work on the room. Hurry up!”

You run into the bathroom, applying deodorant as quickly as possible and checking your legs for stubble. “I shaved this morning, but I think it’s fine.”

“Did you shave…everything?!” she asks, just as panicked as you are.

“Yeah, thank god!” you answer, wetting your toothbrush.

“Okay, game plan, keep brushing, just listen. He’s into you, you’re into him. He’s been flirting with you all night. He wants you babe, and if it were me? Well, I’d do it. I know what you’re gonna say, ‘Ruthie, I can’t give it up on the first date’, blah blah blah, I don’t care, fuck the police. He’s hot, you’re hot, you’re in Europe, and if you don’t sex that man tonight, you might not get the chance to again.” she lectures, giving you a stern look.

You spit your toothpaste into the sink, wiping your mouth and grabbing for your hair brush. You run it quickly through your hair as she continues. “God, I have got to know what this man is like in the bedroom. I am so living through you right now. I expect every detail first thing in the morning. Not noon, not three, morning.”

You grab your perfume from the bathroom counter and hold it up to the camera, “Should I, or too much?”

“Yes, you should, obviously! But don’t overdo it!” she yelps back. You spray the perfume onto your wrists, careful not to spray too much.

“Alright, I feel better, but do you think I should change? Honestly, I feel so…”

“What? Hot, sexy? Drop dead gorgeous? Didn’t have a problem with it when you sent that picture earlier, what's different now?” she asks.

“Well, nothing I guess, I just… He will see me in person. You can see my nipples!” you admit.

“I think he’s gonna see a lot more than your nipples tonight babe, that’s just the appetizer.” she laughs, crunching the ice from her drink.

“Oh my god you are so gross, okay, fine. I just need to clean up the room and little and–”

A knock at the door renders you both silent. You mouth the words ‘oh my god’, as she laughs silently.

“I’ll call you later,” you whisper, quickly ending the call and tossing your phone onto the dresser. You take a deep breath and smooth your hands over the black satin tank top, pushing your boobs up, but letting out a defeated sigh when they drop back into place. She better be right about this.

You blow out a calming breath as you make your way towards the door, twisting the handle and pulling the door open. Leaning against your door frame you find Jake, cheeks flushed and somehow looking even better than he did this afternoon. He’s in the same clothes, and his hair is windblown, but there is something different about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you file it away for later.

You purse your lips in a smirk, “You said five minutes.”

He smiles and nods, “I did, but I had to make a pit stop.”

“What for?” you ask, a playful tone to your voice.

You watch his eyes flick down to take in your appearance, his chest growing as he sucks in a deep breath, “Oh, you know…had to get something,” he pauses, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Did you make up your mind?”

You bite your lips together as you open the door a little wider, “Mmm, I thought about it…”

He steps forward, his foot on the threshold, “And?”

You instantly reach for his shirt, pulling him into the room and crashing your lips into his. He immediately takes control, leading you backwards and kicking the door shut with his foot. His hands have found your waist, sliding beneath the silky fabric of your top and gripping into your skin. He backs you into a wall, letting his warm lips drag across your jaw as his hands continue to explore the soft skin of your stomach. It’s not long before his lips are back on yours, the taste of alcohol still lingering on his tongue.

His knee slides between your legs, parting them just enough to be able to press himself closer to you. Your arms lace around his neck, your hands tangling into his soft hair, as his hips press into yours. The sound of your lips on his is wet and desperate, the two of you devouring each other where you stand. His tongue slides into your mouth in search of yours, the two of you quickly picking up where you last left off.

You can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket as it presses against your leg, an incessant buzz that drags your attention away from his lips.

“You wanna get that?” you ask, whispering against his lips.

“No,” he growls, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Probably the groupchat, I’m tired of them interrupting.”

He pulls the two of you from against the wall, walking you backwards towards the bed as his lips pepper kisses up and down your jaw. He tosses you down towards the bed, the fluffy white sheets pooling around your body. His eyes are hazy as he looks down at you, his cheeks still red from what you thought was the cold, but now know is the alcohol flowing through his system. His chest is heaving as he stares down at you, taking in every single inch of your body. You can feel the primal need radiating from him, and you remind yourself to thank Ruth for not letting your change into something else.

You can hear that his phone is still buzzing, and with a huff of aggravation he pulls it from his pocket and taps on the screen a few times before throwing it onto the nightstand. He drops to his hands, hovering over you as his shirt hangs from his body. You keep your eyes locked on his as you unbutton the buttons, letting your hands run up his stomach and over his chest.

His lips drop back down to yours, this kiss a little slower and a little more intentional, you can feel that he wants you, and you hope he can tell that you want him just the same. He hums against your lips, the evidence of his need starting to show through in his voice. You let your hands push the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders and he assists by tossing it to the floor. His necklaces hang between the two of you, the pendants cold as they rest against your chest.

His hand comes up to swipe at the thin strap of your tank top, pulling it delicately over your shoulder while letting his eyes meet yours. You nod your head just enough to give him permission, letting him repeat the action with the other side.

He brings his palm to rest on the side of your neck, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin before he drags his palm down your body, pushing the soft black fabric down your chest.

“This what you wanted?” he hums, dragging his fingertips over your sternum. “When you sent me that little picture? Wanted to get me all worked up thinking about you in this? Thinking about you, out of this?”

Your nipples harden just at the sound of his voice, deep and rich, a gentle slur from the alcohol. He is pure sex as you look up from beneath him.

“Might’ve been…” you answer, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Don’t do that,” he says, pulling your lip with his thumb. “Own it. Take what you want.”

A smirk is planted on his lips, his hair hanging around his face as he looks down at you. You decide to do exactly what he says, reaching down to the hem of your top and pulling it up and over your shoulders. His eyes drop down to your chest, now completely exposed to him, the lust almost visible in his dark eyes.

“Shit…” he breathes, his tongue wetting his lips.

He slots his knee between your legs, crawling forward a little bit more and dropping down to his elbows over top of you. His lips connect with your chest, sucking a long wet kiss into the roundness of the skin. You squirm beneath him, the feeling of his lips on your body more than you can handle in the moment. He drags his lips down your body, stopping as he meets the hem of your shorts.

“Smell so fucking good…You’re so soft, everywhere… Have half a mind to have you like this,” he pants, pressing his lips to your skin again.

“Come back,” you plead, needing to feel his lips on yours.

He moves quickly, grabbing your face with his hand and pressing his lips to yours. You reach between the two of you, your hand unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning the button on his pants. He groans as your hand slips into the waistband of his boxers, gently grazing the stubbly trimmed hair at his base. His eyes flick open to meet yours, almost as if he is surprised you’re doing what he told you to do. You stare at him, waiting for him to tell you to stop, but he doesn’t. You have the answer you need.

You press further, reaching for him, but surprisingly finding him still mostly soft. His eyes widen a little, and his head drops just a touch. You can tell he knows, and it’s caught him a little off guard.

You decide to take matters into your own hands, smiling back at him, “Roll over.”

He looks up, a small grin on his lips as he rolls to his back, landing in the empty spot you photographed earlier. You move to place yourself between his legs, reaching for the top of his pants and pulling them and his boxers down over his legs. He kicks them off and you toss them to the floor, taking in the sight of him completely naked in front of you. His chest is heaving as he looks at you, a grin on his shiny pink lips as he watches you slide your hands up his thighs.

“I know I already told you this, but you’re so fucking pretty I can’t seem to think straight.”

You can feel your cheeks grow hot, the way he’s looking at you and the words falling from his mouth have your heart pumping harder than it has in years.

“And god when you blush like that, fuck…”

You crawl forward a bit more, positioning yourself over him to straddle his waist. You lower yourself to a sitting position, letting him guide your hips to rest your body weight where he wants it. His hands grip into your hips, sliding under the silky fabric still covering your lower half. His thumbs rub circles into your hip bones, your hips rolling on their own accord against his. A hum leaves his chest as his eyes flutter closed, clearly enjoying his view and the feeling of you beneath his hands.

You reach for his hand, grabbing his wrist and guiding his palm to rest over your chest, letting his fingers grip into the soft fullness beneath it. He palms at your breast as you continue to rock your hips over his. His mouth opens just a bit as he focuses on you, slowly bringing his other hand to rest over your other breast. His grip is firm and warm, not too rough. A hum of pleasure leaves his lips every few seconds as he drinks in the moment, but still yet he is considerably soft beneath you.

You lean forward into his hands, letting your lips brush against his neck, your tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe up the column of his neck. His grip tightens and his hips buck upward into yours. You’ve got him where you want him now.

You pull away from him, moving backwards on the bed until you are hovering right above his dick. Your eyes flick to his, dark and boiling over with want as you lower your face closer to him. You grab him in your hand, feeling that he is still not truly hard enough to do anything with, but you still had a few more ideas yet.

“Can I?” you breathe, whispering the words against his soft pink tip. You bat your eyes at him, “Please?”

You watch his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart rate sky high as he watches you. “Been dreaming about it.”

You let your tongue glide over his tip, warm against your mouth as your eyes stay locked on his. You wrap your fist around his base and let your mouth sink down over him, running your tongue up the underside of his shaft. You can’t help but wonder why he isn’t rock hard at this point, his body giving you every single cue that he wants you, apart from this one.

His hand swipes the hair away from your face as you take him, feeling him growing just the slightest bit harder as his tip grazes the back of your mouth. You pull off of him just enough to speak, letting your wet lips brush his tip. “That okay?”

“Yes, fuck yes, I just–”

You grip your hand into his thigh as you shush him, “Shhh, I know, I’m not done.”

You take him down again, bobbing your head back and forth at a steady pace as his breathing starts to pick up. His skin is clammy under your hands and his chest is heaving as he watches you take him as far as you can.

Your brain starts to wander as you taste him, his natural musky smell translating to the taste of his skin. Maybe he drank too much? Or maybe you’re just bad at this. He should be hard by now. Maybe he doesn’t really want you like you thought.

A groan leaves his lips and his hips buck up, forcing him further down your throat. “Fuck…”

Okay, that's definitely not it. He has been falling all over you for days, it has to be something else.

His hand grips into your hair as his hips buck upwards again. “Feel so fuckin’ good baby, shit. Perfect little mouth, knew it would be.”

You let your eyes flick up to his, staring at him as his tongue rests between his lips. He’s trying, you can tell, but for some reason, it’s just not working. His brow furrows in anger, and you watch as his demeanor shifts, frustration taking him over.

You pull off him, his dick harder than when you started, but still fairly soft. You don’t know how hard he normally is, but it has to be more than this. Right?

“Jake, we don’t have t–”

He shakes his head, “Mmm, you know what? Come up here beautiful, come lay down for me.”

You do as he says, part of you sad to think that maybe you weren’t doing it for him, but you push the thoughts aside, swapping places with him as he adjusts the pillow beneath your head. He bends to kiss you, pulling away for just a second before pressing his lips to yours again much quicker.

“So fucking pretty, all of you. But especially that mouth,” he smirks.

He hooks his fingers into your shorts, pulling them and your panties off in one swift movement. You are bare before him, his eyes widening as he takes you in, finally getting a reaction from his dick. He fists it up and down a few times as he looks at you, “Can I touch you, baby?”

You nod quickly, letting him spread your legs apart with his free hand. A growl leaves his chest as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, “So gorgeous, shit…”

His thumb swipes up through your wetness, circling your clit a few times causing you to squirm beneath him.

“Jake…” you gasp.

His eyes meet yours, “Yeah? You like that? You’re so beyond wet, sweetheart.”

Your hips twist and turn beneath his touch, every angle proving to be more stimulating than the last. You whine, a string of curses and muffled versions of his name falling from your lips.

“You…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “Are everything I thought you would be. More, even.”

“Jake, please, I– I need–”

He pulls away from you quickly, his hand still fisting his cock as he reaches for his wallet on the floor. He pulls a condom from the pocket inside, tearing the foil packet open as he kneels back onto the bed.

“Let me!” you urge, stopping his wrist, “I mean, please, can I do it?”

His eyes flick up to yours in surprise, “Yeah baby, you can do it. You can do whatever you want, swear to god.”

You grab the latex between your fingers, pinching the tip and rolling it over his cock. It's hard enough now that putting the condom on is fairly easy, but you’re positive he was even harder than this in the bathroom last night. You roll it to his base, letting your hand drift back up and over his chest before circling it around his neck. His hands grip your waist as his lips meet yours again, his tongue circling with yours as he moves you back towards the pillows, gently lowering your body to the bed. “Want you so bad, Y/N.”

“So have me,” you breathe, barely letting your lips leave his.

You welcome him between your legs, feeling his hand reach down to fist his base, gliding himself through your wetness. In only a matter of a minute his dick is softer than it was, and both of you know it, but neither of you are willing to acknowledge it.

His phone starts to buzz on the nightstand, both of you looking towards it. He doesn’t pay it any mind, letting it buzz on the wooden table until it stops.

“Look at me, baby, don’t mind that,” he demands.

You feel him press his tip to your entrance, his eyes fixed on yours. He furrows his brow as he presses his hips forward, but you feel nothing. Your eyes flick down between the two of you, finding that he can’t seem to get hard and stay hard enough to get it in. You feel a pang of hurt run through your chest, almost like rejection, but somehow a little worse.

“Jake, are you not hard en–”

“Just give me a second, I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he growls, his attention turning to the still buzzing phone on the nightstand.

“I mean, I can give you head again if you think–”

“No, Y/N, I just– I just need a second, I’ll be fine,” he says. You can hear the anger in his voice, not at you, but at himself.

“Is it me?” you ask, running your fingers up his arm that is next to your head.

“Fuck no. You are everything I want, wet as fuck and gorgeous, no, it’s not you. I want you, I really fucking want you,” he says, stroking himself a few more times. “Alright…”

He repositions himself at your entrance, and this time you can feel him, he’s harder now, enough to slide into you, but still it’s only just enough to slip inside.

Even half hard he is bigger than the last guy you were with, the stretch as he presses into you making that abundantly clear.

“Oh Jesus Christ, you are so tight,” he pants, his dick hardening a little at the tight fit.

You slide your hands around his waist, pulling him down a little further as he starts to move his hips, “Oh goddamn…”

His phone buzzes twice on the nightstand as he starts to pump into you at a steady pace, but you ignore it, letting the overwhelming feeling of him moving inside of you take precedence in your brain.

He groans through closed lips, his brow furrowed in concentration as he slides in and out of you. He rolls his hips as he thrusts into you, a whine leaving your lips as your back arches.

“Motherfuck, you are–” he stops, regaining his composure, “Tightest fuckin’ pussy.”

Your hands grip into his sides as he picks up speed, his hips slamming into yours as both of you start to lose yourselves in the moment. Finally things felt normal, things felt good, way too good. You wanted this, you needed this, and fuck if he wasn’t checking every box you’d ever had.

He cups your cheek in his hand, dusting his thumb over your swollen lips just as you part them to suck it in. You watch his eyes roll back in his head as he starts to pant, and you can tell he is dangerously close to his finish.

You start to speak, ready to change positions but as you open your lips to release his finger, his phone rings, buzzing quickly across the table as the sound plays through the speakers.

“God fucking damnit!” he growls, “What the fuck!”

“Take it Jake, it’s fine, just– answer and they’ll leave you alone.” you urge, looking to the black phone skittering across the table.

“No, fuck no.” he snaps, his hips emphasizing his point. “I’m busy,”

The buzzing stops, and he looks back to you, letting his hand drift down to your chest. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, letting his lips meet yours. His kiss is wet, and desperate, his hips starting to falter as they move in messy strokes above you.

You can tell he needs to cum, his body racing closer and closer with every half hard stroke of his dick. You can also tell he is fighting it, his face is red, and his hairline sweaty. You know it will be seconds, if that, until he is tumbling into his release.

His eyes flick to yours in panic, an almost apologetic look on his face as he breathes, “Baby, I’m, fuck—”

As if right on cue, his phone starts to buzz, the ringtone blaring through the speakers as his hips stutter, slamming into you again as he looks at his phone on the table. His head snaps back to you, sucking in a deep breath of panic as his hips stop, his cock twitching inside you as he fills the condom with a guttural moan.

The fucked out look that takes over his face is like nothing you’ve ever seen. Reminiscent of a Renaissance painting, the features of his face twist into such a blissful expression that he almost looks like he’s in pain. He’s beautiful, there is absolutely no doubt about that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he just came, way, way too soon.

You are in shock as you lay beneath his panting body, feeling him grow soft inside you once again. He pushes up to his hands nearly instantly, his face riddled with remorse as he realizes what exactly just happened. “Y/N–”

His phone buzzes again, for what has to be the sixtieth time in the last five minutes, a snap of anger washing through you. “Are you going to fucking get that?”

He mumbles a curse under his breath as he pulls out of you, the condom full as he looks at it in shame. He covers himself with his hand as he snatches the phone off of the nightstand and makes his way to the bathroom. You can feel the embarrassment swirling through the air as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on.

You grab the sheet at your feet and pull it up over your naked, unsatisfied body, trying to wrap your head around what exactly just happened. You try to catch your breath, the sound of your breathing filling the room but quickly drowned out by Jake’s phone ringing. This time though, he answers.

“Hello?!” he shouts, his anger apparent. “Yeah I’ve seen him fucking calling, I have been busy goddamnit!”

You hear the sink turn off and the toilet flush, followed by the sound of his footsteps walking back into the room. “Yes, I will call him, Jesus Christ, don’t ever blow my shit up like that again,” he snaps, ending the call. He pauses as he walks, a hand towel in his grip as he taps his phone screen.

You hear another call ringing out, but this time he's the one doing the calling. He walks over to you with the phone on speaker phone, a look of sadness on his face as he slowly approaches the edge of the bed. He sits next to you and reaches for your hand just as the person answers.

“Hey, man, been trying to call you.” the man's voice says, a tone of urgency present.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I was caught up for a second. What’s up, what’s going on?” Jake answers, rubbing his hand along your arm.

He turns to look at you mouthing ‘guitar tech’ as he hands you the damp towel. You make quick work of it, wiping yourself off but knowing you’ll be taking a shower as soon as possible. You throw it across the room as he snickers, waiting for Johnny to answer.

“Listen man, I’m at the venue, trucks just arrived and we are doing load out. One of the stage left Marshall cabinets split in transit. Wiring harness is fucked. Amp is…the amp is not looking good man.”

You see Jake stiffen, “What?”

“Huge gash in the backside, must have fallen or something, I tried to fuck with the wiring as best as I could, it’s not getting any signal right now, man.”

“Holy fuck,” he groans, standing quickly from the bed and gripping into his hair. “No signal? Did you try a direct line in?”

You cut your eyes wondering how he managed to sober up so quickly in the last three minutes.

“Yeah, even DI there’s no signal, just static. Powers’ on, but she’s DOA. Gonna have Mark take a look at it too, but I don’t have high hopes,” he continues.

“Is there anything we can do? How the fuck are we supposed to get a replacement amp and cabinet by tomorrow?” Jake asks, his voice laced with panic.

“We can make some calls, I know a guy with some leads. What are the chances of you coming down here to take a look at it? Maybe I’m completely missing something, man. Hoping it's a quick fix. Need your signature for the insurance waiver, too.”

“Can it wait until morning?” he asks, a pained look on his face.

“Probably shouldn’t, especially if we are looking for a replacement locally.”

He turns to look at you, and you can tell he is conflicted. You bite your lips together and nod your head. This is his job after all.

He runs a hand over his face, letting out a sigh, “Yeah, yeah, I um– I can be there in a bit. I just need to wrap something up here, and I’ll be there. See if you can get in touch with Hamstead, I’m sure they have a loaner we could use for tomorrow at the very least.”

“Will do man, hey sorry about this, I don’t know what happened, maybe it wasn't strapped down or–”

Jake is quick to cut him off, “It’s fine, not your fault. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yep, see you then,” he says, ending the call.

He tosses his phone on the nightstand before dropping his head into his hands. “This night has been…”

He turns to look at you, letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what the fuck it’s been, fuck, I just…”

You can tell he is flustered, he can hardly form a sentence. “Listen, I get it. It’s fine, just go do what you need to do. It’s okay, really.”

He nods as he stands up from the bed, walking around the front to start grabbing for his clothes. He doesn’t say much as he dresses, and he will hardly look at you. You don’t really know why, but you can imagine he is feeling a little bad about himself and his performance at the moment. You still haven't let yourself process what exactly happened with the two of you just now, but you will, soon.

He re-buttons his shirt, pulling his hair up into a hair tie as he lets out a sigh, “Look, I’m sorry about this. I really am, this is the absolute very last thing I want to do right now, especially after… that. But I have to, and I don’t want you to think that I want to because–”

“Jake. I get it. Just go, it’s fine,” you say calmly, hoping he will believe you.

He grabs his phone and his wallet and shoves them into his pants pocket, kneeling on the bed towards you. He leans in to kiss you, but his lips don’t land on yours, instead missing your mouth completely. A new rush of secondhand embarrassment washes through you, and right now you think him leaving is probably the best thing he could do.

He curses himself as he stands up shaking his head in defeat as he swallows back his embarrassment. He walks towards the door with a hand in his pocket, turning to you just before stepping out, “I’ll uh…I’ll text you, I guess, I don’t know, fuck. Have a good night, Y/N.”

The door slams behind him and suddenly the room is silent. No heavy breathing, no pitchy moans, and no ringing phones. Just pure silence.

You stare at the wall for a full five minutes, the muted TV flashing colors against your skin. You can’t conjure a thought. Not a single one. Nothing other than what the fuck was that?

You want to call Ruth. You want to call her and tell her everything, but you also don’t even know what you would say. Something like ‘Hey Ruth, just had the worst two minutes of sex of my life? Oh did I mention he was barely hard? And I couldn’t get him hard? And that his phone rang the entire time? And that he came in two minutes? And I didn’t finish at all? And then he had to leave as soon as he finished? And now I’m sitting alone and naked in my hotel room?’ Yeah, you needed to sit on this one for a minute. Your eyes catch sight of the flower laying on the dresser, now looking a little bit limp and lifeless but still beautiful no less. You feel a pang run through your chest, tearing your eyes away from it so as not to taint that moment earlier with this one.

You rip the sheets from your body and make your way to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as it will go before stepping inside. You let the steaming hot water clear your mind and ease your tense muscles, washing away the scent of his cologne that is lingering on your skin.

You wrack your brain for answers, though you can hardly come up with anything that makes sense. There’s just no fucking way he is actually terrible in bed. We had so much chemistry, the electricity between us was nearly electrocuting you. He felt so good last night. We were so in sync last night. This had to be a fluke, right? You’ve seen him with his guitar on stage, where was that?!

You lather your skin in your body wash, rinsing away the remaining evidence that this night ever happened. After the best afternoon with him, why was he so off tonight? He barely seemed like himself. Maybe he really did have too much to drink.

You tried to put yourself in his shoes. If the roles were reversed and it was your phone blowing up like that, you probably would have been a little distant too. But that didn’t explain why he couldn’t stay hard. That was a mystery to you, and you really hoped to god it was the beers and not you. You know he was so much harder last night, you know he was. You felt it. So what happened between last night and tonight?

Something. You knew that much.

You turn off the water and wrap yourself in a towel, letting your mind wander with possibilities, trying to convince yourself that what he showed you tonight was not who he really was. You sat back down on the bed you just shared with him, thinking back to that few seconds where things were good. And it was good, it felt good, he felt good. There was no denying those few seconds. But the rest of it, well, that was still up for debate.

You grab your phone and tap the screen, the display reading 1:02AM. There are no texts from Jake, though you didn’t really know what you expected him to say.

From the little you know about him, when he left here tonight the confidence he naturally exudes was gone, not even in the same building. You knew he would reach out, but only when he was ready and knew what to say. But until then…

You toss your phone on the bed next to you, quickly changing into a clean pair of pajamas and curling back up into the bed. You lay there staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how you are going to handle things tomorrow. You would be with him the entire day, and you didn’t want to make him feel worse than he likely already did.

You go back and forth with yourself until you land on something sturdy: You won’t say anything, you won’t do anything. You’ll act completely normal. The same as you have for the last few days. You decide to tear this page from the book and move forward. This never happened.

Deep down you know there was something holding him back from being fully present with you tonight, but what that is you’ve yet to discover.

—

JAKE POV

The early morning finds you facedown on your bed, still fully clothed, one boot kicked off into the floor, the other still completely on your foot. The sun is far from being up, and you’re thankful that you still have a few hours before its rays beat in through your window. The bustle of the awakening city is loud on the streets below you, and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to stay in this exact position for the rest of the day. For the rest of your life, actually. Maybe, if you bury yourself under these blankets and pillows, everyone will forget about you. Isla will forget about you. Y/N will forget about you, about everything, about last night. It will be like it never even happened. It will be like the most amazing buildup to what could have been a night of pure electricity didn’t take an absolute nose dive into one of the most embarrassing things to have ever happened to you. You’d take tripping on stage a million times over this. Pure. Humiliation.

Yeah, right here, in this bed. Under the pillows. They can’t find you here.

What the fuck even happened?! Whiskey dick was an understatement. It didn’t even begin to explain what you…experienced. Unable to perform for the most beautiful new thing that has happened to you. Everything was perfect, she was perfect… her confidence was enamoring, her head was off the charts good, and fuck, for the few seconds you had things actually going, it was pure ecstasy. She was soaked for you. Her sounds, her face… fuck. It all came flooding back to your brain, even the way she smelled still stuck in your mind. She wanted you, just as badly as you wanted her. Just the thought of it had you standing at attention all over again, at full force this time, though. And you’d let her down.

You sit up and roll yourself over. “Where the fuck were you last night, huh? Let me the fuck down!” you audibly yell at what was happening in your still-belted jeans. You force your face back into the comforter, realizing now that a horrific hangover is on the horizon. Your head is busting in two already, not like you already didn’t feel like shit on a boot.

Staying here, under the pillows until sound check. Right here. Not moving. Hiding.

You know that’s not realistic, though. You contemplate texting her, but what the fuck do you even say? You couldn’t even satisfy her, and ended up satisfying yourself, way too fucking soon. What had you lasted, two minutes? Three max? Like a fucking 16 year old kid. God, what a fucking tool. She probably thinks you’re a horrible lay. You know you’re better than that.

You groan hard into the sheets below you, feeling the metallic taste of a hangover in your mouth. You need a gallon each of water, orange juice, and black coffee, stat. And probably like, nine pieces of the butteriest toast you can find. And probably a shower, yes, a shower. And a straightjacket, for how absolutely insane you feel.

Damnit, the amp. Luckily, the rental was in the works of being en route last night, so you feel just a little bit better about that, at least. It won’t be your baby, but it will sound okay.

You roll and find your almost-dead phone underneath your chest, blinking your eyes as the screen brightens. Nothing. Not even Isla. Good. No one wants you. You can stay here, hidden in your burrow, until you absolutely can’t anymore.

You’ve gotta say something, anything to her, to start this process that you want to stay millions of miles away from. But the first step to healing is admission, so you go ahead and take it.

You

5:31AM: I’m sorry.

You watch as the message is delivered to her, seeing the string of foreplay texts and her photo still sitting in the chat. She’s so gorgeous, how could you have fucked up this badly? Your first chance to show her how you feel and you fumble this hard?

Though there were many factors playing into it, at the very deepest darkest part of your mind, you know why. You know exactly why. Guilt isn’t an emotion you let yourself feel very often, and this morning, you find yourself grasped in the wrath of it. The double-edged sword of your current situation with two separate women is proving to be more intertwined than you’d anticipated, or even foresaw. What you want is clear, though. And you’re determined to get a second chance, no matter how rocky and uncomfortable the road to that chance may be.

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