#god i can't believe after months of wondering i just spontaneously remembered the name of slow fade

[vinylhazza]

JERSEY BOY (E.D)

Fou Amoreux

jersey boy masterlist

part 1. here

… … … 

her mouth hasn’t shut up about him since he kissed it. the idea that he may kiss it again is constantly stuck in her brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about him even before any kiss they shared. Adélaïde seems to feel the same about her “Gray” as she likes to call him, the brightest smile coming to her face with the very sound of his name leaving her lips. She fell for the younger twin just as hard as Chloé fell for Ethan. 

and if one day you wake up and find that you’re missin’ me 

three months ago is when he hopped on that plain back to LA, back to his busy life with his busy schedule. three months of facetime calls and mushy text messages. three months of missing him to no end. three months of silent prayers sent at night, up to the heavens hoping they’ll answer her prayer and bring her jersey boy back.

she still goes to the ferris wheel. she never rides it, simply sits on the bench and watches the wheel spin around and around, remembering the first time his hazel eyes landed on her and the fire that it sent blazing through nerve in her body. she watches lovers hop onto the ride, hand in hand, starting their journey like she once had. 

and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be 

she comes to the ferris wheel near every other day, just to see if maybe he had been the sneaky boy she fell in love with and came back to her without warning. maybe another Louis Vuitton event? maybe another event?...maybe just because he missed her? 

she asks Adélaïde to join her each time, but she declines, instead opting to travel back to that very same bench where Grayson’s lips met hers for the very first time and sent her spiraling into a puddle of longing for his touch every moment. the way his eyes looked at hers that night, the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower reflecting off of his dilated pupils had been something she’d only seen in movies.

when they left three months ago...they had cried for days, wrapped up in blankets in Chloé’s living room, gushing about their adventures and trying to forget their heartbreak for a small fraction of time by watching the Notebook - which only made it worse naturally. 

she almost expected him to not call or text her and treat her as a spontaneous love affair he’d had in Paris, never to be spoken of again. she expected him to throw away her number she scribbled down on the white hotel napkin after she whispered her words of devotion to him. the smile that blessed the world when he looked down and saw her number was breathtaking. he hadn’t needed it while they were frolicking and getting themselves into an abundance of trouble, because he always knew where to find her. right where he first saw her. 

it was hard at first with different time zones, but he would always make sure to text her what he was doing, how is day was, anything he could come up with, just to ensure she didn't forget about him. but she could never. and he could never forget about her. they were both far too deep for that. what she didn't know...was that he and his brother had every intention of coming back and sweeping them right back off of their feet.

thinkin’ maybe you’d come back here to the place that we’d meet 

the twins had already bought their tickets, already booked the hotel reservations. they had decided before hand in a deep brotherly talk that they weren’t going to tell the girls. they were going to hand it to the universe, and if it’s meant to be: Ethan will see his sweet Chloé at the ferris wheel and Grayson will see Adélaïde on that little bench by the bushes. fate had never done them wrong before. 

she was far too embarrassed to ever tell him she often goes back to the place they met, she was far too embarrassed to admit that she just wanted to feel that fire again, just wanted him back again...just wanted him. and that was the closest she could get, it was the very beginning of their little love story, one they couldn’t have known would be lifelong. 

they had told Lisa about Chloé and Adélaïde one day on a trip back to Jersey after a stressful weak of relentless press and internet snoopiness. but of course that was after she’d called them out on hiding something. mother knows best.

she knew the way they smiled was a little brighter. she knew the walk in their step was happier. she knew their texts were more thought out, like they were typing a novel instead of a one word answer. she knew they stayed up later than they ever had talking rushed and quite on their phones. she knew they booked “random” tickets to Paris right in her living room. she knew. she knew her boys fell in love.

so she wished them extra good luck before they went home, knowing they would be leaving in two days on a quest to return to their girls - and hugged them a little big tighter, whispering that they’ll be there. she promises the girls will be there. she’d never seen her boys talk about girls they way that they had on the couch, drinking shyly from their mugs. not even Grayson who was dead convinced he’d fallen in love every time he got into a relationship. she had a way of bringing it out in them.

it was never like this. 

there was a hole in their world, an emptiness in the twins life since they stepped foot in front of that damn ferris wheel. something changed. that change is what makes them sit down in a mess of nerves on a flight from LA to Paris. 

and you’ll see me waiting for you, on the corner of the street 

so here Ethan sits, here he waits, hoping that when the sun sinks below the horizon, Chloé will be back in his arms once again. he hopes she still comes here. he hopes that maybe even if she never does, something in her will tell her just to come here because he’s waiting for her. and he needs her. and he never wants to let her go again. 

Grayson and Ethan parted ways almost an hour and a half ago. they were hopeful, but told one another not to be too upset if they don’t show, that it’s just them taking a risk and if this city gives them that drop in the ocean luck one more time - they know it's a sign that they are the real deal. 

so Grayson sits on the bench by the bushes and watches the comin and going of tourists staring dreamily up at the Eiffel Tower, just basking in the pure art and essence of the city that breathes devotion and love. they wait for Adélaïde and Chloé to get that feeling deep down in their stomachs: intuition. 

so i’m not movin, i’m not movin 

and that they had. on this day, for some reason while the pair drink their herbal tea and talk about nonsense while applying way too much of their facemasks...they get their feeling in their gut that they need to be somewhere. once this feeling comes it stays, and it weighs on their mind until they can’t stand it anymore, coming to the agreement that they needed to go to their “spots”. 

the short car ride to the city is silent, air completely flooded with nerves and anxiety. they feel that same magic in their bones that they felt the day they met those charming twins that stole their hearts and never gave them back. but they didn’t want them back. 

when the car is parked on a side street and they gleam at each other with watery eyes and fleeting hearts, they step out to give one another a long sentimental hug - hoping and praying they aren’t wrong. they hope their wishes on the shooting stars came true. 

both Chloé and Adélaïde send a text to their respective twin, a short breezy message that they hope gets an answer within a few moments.

what’s up?

maybe then their assumptions can be confirmed. they wait for a minute to get an answer - and of course Ethan and Grayson get the message, but choose not to answer, not wanting to ruin the universes plan. the girls heave a sigh of defeat, but don’t give up hope. not until they know for sure. 

Chloé heads for the ferris wheel, sending a wave to Adélaïde who rushes off to the Eiffel Tower with a giddy grin. 

goin’ back to the corner where I first saw you 

all four hum a tune as they wait, as they walk, as they pray. a habit for them all. it’s a song they haven’t heard in so long, but for some reason it seems very accurate in this moment. mysterious ways of the world. 

the sun is sinking, and sinking, and sinking, casting a purple and pink glow over every part of the beautiful city - cool breeze brushing over Ethan’s face as he decides to stand, knowing he’s far too anxious to sit because who sits when they wait for- 

teary eyes, those beautiful teary eyes. the purple making his Chloé’s skin appear golden but plum all the same, wind fluttering the end of her blush colored flowy tank top as they stare at one another, frozen. she’s only a few steps away, too afraid she’s hallucinating to walk any closer. 

while the ferris wheel keeps on spinning, they keep on staring. her hands are at her side. one hand is in his pocket, the other holding a bouquet. he got flowers for her?

she’s taking in the sight she’s loved since that sunny day...dark wisps of hair, styled just right, silver chain around his neck, white Louis Vuitton t-shirt, black pants. stunning. just as breathtaking as the last time she’d seen him three months ago.

Grayson and Adélaïde share the same stare down just a few blocks away from them.

he waits on the bench still as a statue for his beautiful girl to rush over and caress his face with disbelieving eyes. lovers reunited again. he intends to ask her the same question, one he knows in his heart she won’t refuse.

Ethan takes his time walking over to a frozen Chloé, gaining the courage to say the sentence he’s been rehearsing in his head, to Grayson, to the random lady in the flower shop, and to his mother, to the flight attendant, anyone he could find. he hopes to God he doesn’t screw it up. he’s not messing up fates second chance. 

“you’re here,” is the only thing she can say through her hysterical crying, not believing he is actually standing here, actually running a hand through her hair, actually holding her favorite kind of flowers (peach roses)...she can’t believe he actually came back for her. she’d wished and hoped and prayed - never seeing it work before so why would it now?

“shh...I’m here baby,” he grins widely at her, hugging her to his chest, hearts thumping loudly in both of their ears. high off of the feeling of each others skin against their own once again. sun sinking lower on this beautiful July evening, he finally continues speaking, “I gotta tell you something.” 

she nods against his shirt, eyes closed, breathing him in, sinking in his arms like putty. safe place. that’s what this is, her safe place.

fuck he really couldn’t be more nervous than he was when Chloé leans back, taking his flowers and setting them on the bench. he takes her soft fragile face in both of his hands, looking into her eyes deeply, knowing how ridiculous they must look to all of the bustling busy people of the city...but he couldn’t care less. 

“tu es la femme de mes reves,” it’s a soft whispered confession, as soft as hers had been. perfect. meaningful. she gasps at how easy it was for him to say, just like he’d been destined to. like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.

it’s just what she needed to hear before she’s locking their lips together in an earthshattering kiss. lips dancing, tongues teasing, passionately whispering both French and English love confessions. right in the middle of Paris they fall in love all over again.

he has his French girl once more, and Grayson has his. and now that they’ve got them, they are never losing them again. 

when they pull away they are laughing, not even believing their luck. 

“I actually uh...came here to tell you something else too,” he chuckles, wiping stray tears from under her eyes. he’s pretty choked up himself. he knows when a fan posts a picture it will blow up and spread like wildfire to every social media platform their is, and he knows his mom will see it, and he knows she would be cheering. so he goes on to finish what he started. 

“I was immersed in your life when we came here, and in turn fell in love with you...why don’ t you come and see what my world has to offer hmm?” it’s worth a shot. 

“come to LA you mean?” she’d only been to the states once when she was eleven. it was a family trip to New York - her mom had always been obsessed. 

“yeah I mean...I want you. and you want me. and I think if we actually give this a shot it will work, we could be really happy together. I mean I already am happy with you, but I want you in my arms more often than every couple of months,”  he plants a soft peck of a kiss on her pouted lips, eyelashes fluttering against her heated cheekbones. yeah their worlds would change with any decision they make, but they've already been changed since the day they met. and neither of them want to ever feel that empty again. if she agrees to go to LA and see what her life could be, she would thank herself later. she knows by that same fuzzy feeling she gets in her toes when something amazing is about to happen. 

it’s not like she’s moving there right now, simply testing the waters and making her own decision on where life could take her and if she wants to take the safe path, or follow the path less traveled. she’s just a small town French girl, how much happiness could she get? this doesn’t happen to girls like her.

“give it a try for me?” he just keeps on rubbing her cheeks, the light of the ferris wheel gleaming in her wide eyes staring back at him. he’s hers. she knows it in her bones and with her whole body that whether she’s here or there - he’s hers. everything else can follow later. why not take the leap? make the jump?

she only needs a moment more to think before she’s pulling at his neck for another kiss, making a mental note to thank herself years later for making another reckless decision to follow this jersey boy and his twin back to their home in LA. yeah it’s not great to make rash decisions...but when has it gone wrong for them yet? 

“yes, let’s do it. I want to know what made you who you are,” and she means it, she wants to know what makes him tick. she wants to know how he is so polite. how he handles all the bullshit that’s thrown at him. how he thrives. she wants to know how he’s so bright. so full of sunlight and hope at all times. she wants to know how her man came to be. she doesn't give a fuck if she has to go to Egypt to find out, she’ll follow him. 

“I was hoping you’d say that because Grayson is asking Adélaïde and it would be kind of weird if you said no and she said yes just saying,” he laughs, breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees Grayson and Adelaide walking towards them on the sidewalk with matching grins, Grayson throwing a thumbs up in his direction. she turns to see the gesture and Adélaïde mouth “oh my God” at her, dreamily smiling at Grayson’s side profile. 

Chloé doesn’t give herself the time to be nervous, she doesn’t give herself the chance to think about what she’s going to pack, or the excited screaming fest she’ll surely have with Adélaïde later, she doesn’t give herself a chance to be nervous about the plain, or telling her mother even if she’s moved out on her own, she doesn't think about what she’s going to tell her job, she doesn't think about anything but those beautiful brown eyes looking at her soft and delicate. she doesn't think about anything but her jersey boy that came back for her. so she rests a finger on his lips, hushing him from trying to convince her or make himself nervous. 

she plans to live in the moment like they had before, make the most of their time in Paris before he sweeps her off to start their lives and change her world for the better forever. she plans to take him back to that hotel room and finish what they started. she plans to rest her lips on every surface of his body simply because she can. she plans to keep his heart right here with her, where it belongs - whether it’s in LA or France. as long as they have each other who the fuck cares? she can hear her mother’s voice in her head, the saying she’s told her since she was just a little girl; tenter sa chance.

she looks up at him with a sly smirk, ghosting her lips against his, licking at his bottom lip lighting only to feel him grin.

“tu pourrais te taire et m’embrasser?” 

… … … 

part 3? 

[kittensjonsa]

For @jonsa-week 's Day 1:

Greed ~ The Father (Justice) ~ Fave book quote (Jon, A Storm of Swords - pg 617)

Summary: Revenge was all he wanted and it didn’t matter how he got it. But Jon knew he had bitten off more than he can chew the moment he laid his eyes on Sansa Stark - daughter of the well loved and respected man in all of Westeros and recent widower turned priest, Ned Stark. 

Rated G, 2k+ words, may turn smutty. Angsty, a snippet of Jonsa, dark Jon and to be continued (maybe I don’t know yet..)

In The Name of The Father

Justice. It was all he wanted. The plans he had didn't have any room for any incidences. Nothing at all. Just get in, get it done and get out. He was prepared, or at least he thought so.

“Something troubling you, son?”

Jon jumped slightly at the call. Turning around slowly as calm and confident footsteps approached him, Jon managed a small smile of greeting. A small creak told him the priest had just taken a seat in the pew just behind his.

“Well, isn't everyone who comes here?”

A small grin and a chuckle escaped the sombre priest. “True. Aren't we all? Well if there's anything you need, confess or anything, I'll be right here.”

Confess. A heavy word worth its weight in guilt and remorse. He had a confession, truth be told but tonight was not the night. Oh the things he could tell, but he shouldn't. Not to Father Ned Stark.

“I'm sorry, Father.. but I'm afraid.. I'm not Catholic. I just came here to take a breather. It's very.. peaceful here.”

It wasn't prayer nor intercession he was after. Nor a minute of peaceful solitude. He had enough of those growing up alone.

Forgiveness. That was on his mind, the moment he stepped into the church. He feared he would vanish and spontaneously combust, on such sacred premises, for the vile things he had done but he guessed going to hell didn't work that way. Jon had a feeling he had one foot in it already.

“How could you? You animal!” Sansa's cries were acid, burning right through him.

“I fell in love with you! To think I gave you all of me, my heart was yours! A-and you.. you just stomped on it? How dare you even come here!”

“Sansa, you're not listening to me.. please just listen.”

Sansa shook her head and rubbed away at the tears that were flowing freely. Oh, how it hurts. She gave herself to him. All of her; mind, body and soul. She would do anything for him. Anything to make him happy. He was her best friend, her soul mate. But how could her feelings be so wrong?

Sansa screamed in anger as Jon stepped closer. She was done. The lies, oh God, the lies!

“No! Don't touch me! We are done! Don't ever come near me ever again! You.. are dead to me.”

No words had ever punched him in the gut like Sansa’s..Jon could only watch as Sansa ran away from him, driving off and leaving him alone by the river. The night was unbearably cold all of a sudden. Their favourite spot and where they kissed for the first time. He shouldn't care nor remember these things, but he did. Good lord, he did.

The stab that pierced through his heart was one he didn't expect. Perhaps he did love her too. .

But.. Mother. And Arthur.

He was greedy. Greedy for things to be set right. Greedy for vengeance. For vindication. But he had no right to break her heart. And for what it's worth, his too.

His happiness meant nothing if he didn't have any peace. One that would come in the aftermath of finally knowing who had taken everything away from him and getting payback. It was all that mattered. Wasn't it?

Maybe prayer was what he needed, subconsciously as what good left in him was desperately trying to claw its way out. But he didn't believe in God. What God would allow such things; what happened to his mother and Arthur, and more importantly to him, making him this way causing hurt and grief to someone he actually loved?

Pray then. Pray to your new Gods, and I'll pray to my old ones.

And they are Revenge, Betrayal and Blackmail.

Jon shut his eyes, remorseful for thinking such thoughts in such a place. But how hypocritical, it seemed to him, considering what he had done. And he had done enough. It stung him still, remembering how her warm tears dampened the palm of his hands. How her heartbreaking pleas shook him to his very core. Yes, he had done enough.

Jon could hear the priest's smile. A warm, genuine and kind smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Well, not to worry we welcome everyone here.”

Sinners are we and sinners we shall die. None redeemed. At least not me, Jon thought.

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

His eyes shifted to the floor and held his head low before standing up to leave Jon alone. He had been a priest long enough to know when he was not needed. And it seemed to him this dishevelled young man, with dark eyes and unruly curls probably cherished his moment of solitude before he walked in.

“Nice to meet you then. I shall leave you in your peace. I'm Father Ned and I hope if you feel like you ever need a place to breathe, you'll come here.”

“Thank you Father Ned. I'll take you up on that offer.”

And perhaps.. more.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

“What? What do you mean you can't tell me? What is it?”

Sam clicked the mouse and whirled his chair around to face Jon. He hoped he had better news to tell him.

“You've got to promise me you're not going anything stupid. You can't. Promise me, Jon.”

“All right. I promise. So go on then... Oh for fuck's sake, Sam! Out with it!”

Sam turned and tapped on the computer screen.

“That man you've been looking for all this while? The one you think had something to do with your mother's death? That's him right there. The private investigator sent me this.”

Jon grunted and glared at Sam before setting his gaze on the screen.

“So that's him. I've got to look for him then.”

“And do what Jon? Ask him questions, interrogate him? I know what's going through your mind and I think it's best if you don't.. do anything at all.”

Jon looked at the name again. And the stealth pictures that came with it. He needed to decide now. Closure, that's it. Though it puzzled him why Sam was so concerned. He knew how much he needed this. Sam, of all people.

“And why shouldn't I?”

“You're mad, angry, pissed off. You've been like this ever since you started this whole investigation thing. Dude, listen to me, just don't do it.”

“And isn't that the exact reason why I should? It's called closure, Sam. Besides, who the hell is h-”

“He's mother fucking Ned Stark, that's why!” Sam objected.

Ned Stark. I'll remember that name for as long as I live.

“So, who's he?” Jon asked, though he had heard of him before.

“You're kidding right? A Westerosi legend. The lawyer who brought the Boltons to their knees and best friend of the late President Robert Baratheon. How do you not know all this?”

Jon stared at the pictures once more and shrugged. Probably a good thing he didn't. Makes it all the more easier. He was too busy trying to survive the past twenty years or so, doing his best on the cold hard streets than to mind about politics or gossip.

“But.. it looks like he isn't one anymore. Or retired. I mean, look the photos. He's a priest, Sam.”

“Dude give that guy a break. He just lost his wife and his two sons. He's found God and maybe that's how it's supposed to be. I mean, come the fuck on, Snow!”

And I lost my mother.

Jon didn't like the tone in Sam's plea. Why should one man's redemption be more important than his poor mother's? A life snatched away from him much too soon. The years spent in foster homes, in the orphanage and trying to seek some form of solace and God forbid it, even love - was a painful sorrow no one would ever understand.

“Stop fucking telling me about this man! His life is no more important than what my mother could have had! You don't fucking tell me how that's like, Tarly. No one can and best you don't say anything about this anymore.”

“No, Jon I didn't mean that!  You know that. Come on, Jon! Jon!” Sam's words fell on deaf ears as Jon grabbed his coat and left. Nobody tells me what the fuck to do. Not Sam, not even God. Whoever the fuck they are, Jon screamed in his head.

Days went by without as much as a call from Sam, Jon knew he was smart enough to leave him be but still he wished they could talk. A text or two dinged but Jon chose to ignore them. He had more important things on his mind. Rubbing his tired eyes, Jon decided to call it a night from staring at the computer.

The research and probing had gotten a little too mundane, the more he learned about Ned Stark, the more he uncovered - which was really how Ned Stark was practically Captain Westeros, a well loved man, an upright citizen with morals of steel. There was not an ounce of dirt on him except one tabloid article years ago that depicted him leaving the scene of an infamous night club with the late former President Baratheon. But that was only because the former late President was a bad boy with bad habits, it wasn't really about Ned Stark per se.

How are you connected to my mother's death? Jon wondered. Something's gotta give, no one can be that good.

Jon needed to do something different, he needed more. He had set out to find the truth and right now, he'd do just about anything for it. Anything.

The Stark family radiated pure happiness and perfection, from the web portrait alone, one that rudely yelled out at him.

Such a pretty family.

It made him sick to his stomach, to think that that could have been a portrait of him and his mother and Arthur Dayne. His own family where he was loved and protected. Arthur wasn't family but he was the closest father figure he had in someone and the only confidante his mother trusted. Arthur probably loved his mother too, Jon was certain. They were happy and Jon's life was perfect. Just like the picture of the Starks.

Till a note found in his mother's cold dead hands with a scribbled 'Eddard Stark' destroyed everything he held dear.

And there he was, Father Ned Stark.

Ned Stark, a name that made a six year old Jon an orphan that day and since then he made a vow. Devoting the rest of his life to avenge his beloved mother. Even if it meant hurting someone along the way. He was more than willing and growing up fending for himself went on to equip him with the skills he needed. Jon had years in preparation for this.

They've got to pay, Mama. Someone has to.

“Sansa! Sans! There's someone here to see you,” Jeyne called out from the bottom of the stairs.

Sansa almost jumped and dropped the pencil in her hand. Good thing she wasn't writing anything important or else she'd have to rewrite the notes.

That's weird. Who could it be? Sansa checked her watch again and grunted at the time. It was going to be the third time she was late this week.

“She'll be right down. What was your name again? Jay, was it?”

Jon nodded with a smile. “Yes, it is. I'm actually here for the caretaker position? I believe it was posted in the jobs section in the papers.”

Jeyne eyed him warily. She didn't recall putting an advertisement out for anything lately. If Sansa did, she'd definitely inform her. Yet not even a mention of it. Jeyne didn't quite like the idea of strangers coming up to the Stark's private residence looking for jobs. Regardless of how dark and handsome they turn out to be. But then again, perhaps she might be taking her job as Sansa's personal assistant a little too seriously to care this much.

I'm sure it's nothing, just a guy looking for a job.

“I see. Sansa did mention once that they needed a caretaker here to help with house and the dogs. Though that might have been a few weeks ago and the applications are closed. But maybe she hadn't found one yet. So.. you're okay with dogs though right?”

Jon shrugged. “Dogs? Sure, I love dogs. I have one of my own. Ghost, his name is. Big large white dog. He's a good boy.”

Jeyne nodded approvingly. “Well, all right then. I have to go and leave you in Sansa's good hands. I was just here to collect some paperwork. Nice to meet you, Jay. Oh, and good luck!”

Jon waved a polite goodbye as he closed the door and resumed waiting by the stairs. Beads of sweat were pooling on his forehead. Jon inhaled deeply. So close. He was so close and everything was going according to plan. Jon knew he was at the right place and at the right time and he was mightily pleased with himself.

That is, until - he saw her. Sansa Stark.

“Jay? Hi, sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Sansa. Nice to meet you.”

Nice indeed.

Fuck.