#Dubai Sky View | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

insidekatmind · 4 months ago

Text

An important proposal~Jude Bellingham

Wearning: +18, smut.

The Dubai sun is shining brightly, and you feel the warm breeze caressing your skin as you walk along the resort’s private beach. Finally, after a year together, this is your first vacation just the two of you. It was his idea to choose Dubai, away from the paparazzi and fans, and now, seeing him relaxing on a lounger, you know he made the perfect choice.

You’re wearing your favorite bikini, the one he loves. It’s a little daring, you know, but it’s exactly what you wanted: to capture his full attention. You notice his gaze on you from afar. He’s staring at you without even trying to hide it, sunglasses pulled low on his nose as a sly smile forms on his lips.

“You look amazing,” he says when you get closer, his voice deep and warm as always.

You stop in front of him, hands on your hips, and look up at him with a sly smile. “Just a show? I thought I was so much more.”

He stands up from the lounger, moving closer. He gently takes your hand, his touch firm and reassuring. “You’re so much more,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he scans you. “But honestly, in that bikini… you’re testing my ability to keep my cool.”

You laugh, feeling incredibly comfortable with him. “I thought we were here to relax, not test each other.”

“Being with you is relaxing,” he replies, looking down at your lips. “But you constantly remind me why you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

Your heart races as he pulls you closer, his hands gently resting on your hips. “Maybe we should take a bath,” you suggest, trying to divert attention, even though deep down you enjoy being the center of his world.

“Yes, but only if you promise that we’ll lie on the sand together and watch the sunset afterwards,” he says, his tone a mix of sweetness and desire.

The two of you spend the afternoon in the clear water, laughing and playing like two teenagers in love. Every now and then you notice his eyes returning to you, and you feel beautiful under his gaze.

As the sun begins to set, he surprises you by leading you to a gazebo set up on the beach. The table is decorated with candles and rose petals, and the view of the sea at sunset makes everything even more magical.

"I can't believe you planned all this," you say, sitting down and looking up at him with gratitude.

"I wanted this vacation to be perfect," he replies, taking your hand on the table. "This is our first time alone, away from everything. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

You feel overwhelmed with emotion, but manage to reply, "It doesn't matter where we are, Jude. As long as we're together, it's perfect to me."

You exchange a smile that says it all, and as the sky turns orange and pink, you feel like in that moment nothing could be more perfect than the two of you.

He leans over the table slightly, his gaze softening as he takes you in. the flickering candlelight dances across his features, emphasizing the gentleness in his eyes.

"you know, there's something I've been wanting to ask you," he says quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"what love?" you ask softly.

Jude takes a deep breath, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on the back of your hand. there's a flicker of nerves in his eyes, but his touch remains steady. "it's... a big question," he begins, his gaze meeting yours. "something that's been on my mind for a while now."

You look at him waiting for him to speak. His nerves are more prominent now, but he tries to keep his voice steady. his fingers continue to hold onto yours, almost like an anchor to his nervous tension."you know I love you, right?" he asks, a note of tenderness in his voice. "how much do you mean to me?"

You no longer look at him. Jude smiles slightly at your affirmative response, but there's still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. he takes another deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "i've been thinking about our future," he says, his voice quieter now. "about us. and i...i want to ask you something."

"What love?" you asked softly as you looked at him lovingly.

Jude looks at you intently, nerves still fluttering in his eyes. he's quiet for a moment, as if steeling himself for your answer.

"i...i was thinking... about getting married," he finally says, the words tumbling out like a flood. "i know it's soon, but...i can't imagine my life without you. i want us to build a future together. i want to spend the rest of my life with you."

You smiled sweetly and moved closer to him, straddling him while caressing his bare chest 'marriage?' you smiled sweetly. "Mr. Bellingham, I like the sound of that."

As you straddle him, he instinctively puts his hands on your hips, holding you close. a look of relief washes over his features at your words, and his eyes soften visibly.

"you mean it?" he asks softly, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and excitement. "you'd...you'd actually marry me?"

You give him a kiss on the jaw. "Yes love, I will marry you" you say excitedly.His arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you even closer as he savors your words and your closeness. a mixture of happiness and relief washes over him, and he buries his face against your neck for a moment, inhaling deeply."you just made me the happiest man alive," he murmurs into your skin. "we're really doing this, aren't we?"

You hum in response and kiss him as you position yourself better astride him not caring that you're on a beach. Jude moans softly against your lips, his hands gripping at your hips slightly, holding you in place. He's acutely aware of your position, but the thrill of it only adds to the heat blossoming between you. Jude deepens the kiss, his tongue tasting you with a combination of sweetness and growing desire.

You grind against him while kissing him and pulling his hair, Jude groans louder, his body responding almost involuntarily to your movements. His hands on your hips start to guide your movements, holding you tighter against him as you pull his hair. The intimacy of the moment is heightened by the fact that you both are on the beach, your bodies shielded only by the soft light of the lanterns. "you're driving me crazy," he mumbles between kisses, his voice hoarse with desire

You gently detach yourself from his lips without ever moving away "I love you Jude" you say and go back to kissing him continuing to move your hips on him his eyes flutter closed at your words, a look of raw emotion passing across his face. when you return to kissing him, he responds hungrily, his tongue tangling with yours.

You can feel the effect your movements are having on him as he grips you tighter, his body responding eagerly to your every touch."i love you too," Jude whispers against your lips, his words filled with a mixture of love and desire. "more than you can possibly imagine."

You smile and ride him on his beach bed the contact between your private parts covered with your costumes makes you moan .

Jude leans back on the beach bed, his hands still resting on your hips as you move against him. the friction between you is maddening, even through the thin layers of fabric. His body is taut with want, and your every movement elicits a deep moan from him. "you have no idea what you're doing to me," he groans, his eyes darkened with desire and lust.

Jude reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you down so your face is right above his. he looks at you, his eyes burning with need and love."i need you," he whispers, his voice rough with want. "now."

You pull down his swimsuit and you move your swimsuit bottoms a little as you position yourself on top of him "so big" you murmur trying not to moan loudly.

Jude gasps softly as you move over him, your words sending a jolt of pleasure and need through his body. his hands grip you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold on to control."you always know how to drive me crazy," he mutters huskily, his eyes fixated on you. "now you're just teasing me."

you let him enter you and lean on his muscular arms. Jude guides himself into you, holding you against him with a deep, guttural moan. his arms wrap around you, his muscles bunching as he tries to keep his own balance under your touch.

"oh god," he groans, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "you feel so good,you're always so tight babydoll".

Jude buries his face against your neck, his lips trailing kisses down your skin as he slowly starts to move, holding you close against him. The feeling of you enveloping him is almost maddening, and he struggles to hold on to his control."i could never get enough of you," he murmurs into your ear, his voice soft and rough. "everytime it's like the first time."

You moan and try to move your hips faster but jude stops them gently. "no love i want to make love to you, i don't want it to be just a simple fuck" he says softly kissing your neck.

Your moan is cut short as he gently restrains your hips, his words sending a mix of surprise and desire through you. You can feel the earnestness in his words as he nuzzles your neck, his kisses soft and tender against your skin."i want it to be special," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "just us. nothing else.

Jude keeps his movements steady and slow, savoring every moment, every touch. there's a gentle, sensuous rhythm to his movements that makes you shiver with pleasure. Jude holds you close, his eyes locked on yours, the depth of his love and desire for you clearly visible."you're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "and you're all mine."

"All yours Jude, I love you. I'm so lucky to be your wife" you moaned softly as Jude guided your movements gently .

He moans in response to your words, the truth and passion in them sending a wave of heat through him. his hand moves to your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slows his movements even further, drawing out the moment."and i'm the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife," Jude murmurs, his eyes glimmering with tenderness and love. "nothing could ever compare to this moment, with you in my arms, like this."

You smile and kiss him softly as your bodies continue to move forgetting that you are on a beach. Jude kisses you back softly, his lips lingering on yours for a moment. the sound of the waves and the soft breeze around you adds to the intimacy of the moment, making it feel like the whole world has faded away, leaving just you and him in this perfect moment."i'd stay like this forever if i could," he whispers against your lips, his body still moving gently with yours.

His hands roam over your body, touching you gently, his fingertips tracing patterns on your skin. the desire between you is tangible, but underneath it all, there's a tenderness and a deep, soul-bonding love."i'm never going to get enough of you," Jude says, his voice little more than a ragged whisper. "you're everything to me."

You moan softly as you feel him increase the speed of his movements a little. "Jude is so beautiful" He responds to your moan by moving a little faster, the desire building between you. he looks at you with a mixture of love and lust, his eyes dark with need.

"so are you," Jude pants softly, his voice thick with emotion. "you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on. and you're all mine now."

Your heart warms hearing those words and you blush "i've always been yours jude". He smiles gently and caress your blushing cheek. Your words send a wave of love through him, and he can't help but lean in to kiss you again. the moment is electric, filled with the intense connection between you both.

"i know," Jude whispers softly, his voice gentle and caring. "and you always will be. because there's never been anyone for me but you. and there's never going to be."

He kisses you back just as sweetly, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you both reach the peak together. he gently caresses your back, his own body still shuddering with the intensity of the moment.

"i love you so much," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft and filled with tenderness. "nothing will ever change that."

A/n: Appreciation for the post Jude made. He so beautiful!

300 notes · View notes

f1fan1644 · 4 months ago

Text

Back To Us

Pairing; Lando Norris x Model!Reader

Summary: After years of love and heartbreak, Lando and Y/N find their way back to each other, rekindling a bond they thought was lost. Their reunion unfolds quietly—until a triumphant race reveals their love to the world.

Pictures; Pinterest

Lando leaned back in his seat, staring blankly at the racing simulator in front of him. The hum of the paddock seemed distant, drowned out by the weight pressing on his chest. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing. No, not something—someone.

Y/N’s face lingered in his mind more often than he cared to admit. It had been months since they’d made the decision to part ways, but the ache of her absence hadn’t dulled. At first, he thought it would. He told himself the distance, the silence, the nights spent apart were just what they needed.

“Everything okay?” Max Fewtrell’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping Lando back to reality.

“Yeah,” Lando lied, though the tightness in his throat betrayed him. “Just tired.”

Max gave him a knowing look but didn’t push. Everyone around Lando could see that he hadn’t been himself lately. Not since Y/N had stopped appearing in the garage as more than just a McLaren partner.

Lando busied himself with training, race prep, and media duties, but no amount of distraction seemed to fill the void. He thought back to their last conversation, sitting across from each other on the worn leather couch in their shared London apartment.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/N had whispered, her voice trembling.

He remembered the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her oversized sweater, the one he had bought her years ago. She wasn’t angry, just… sad. Defeated.

“Don’t say that,” he had pleaded, leaning forward. “We can fix this.”

“We’ve been trying, Lando. For months. And we just… can’t.”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Deep down, he knew she was right. The long flights, the late-night arguments over missed calls, the endless demands of their respective careers—it had all become too much.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he had said softly, his voice cracking.

“You’re not losing me,” she had replied, reaching out to take his hand. “But we’re losing us. And that’s what hurts the most.”

Even now, Lando could still feel the echo of her touch, the warmth of her palm against his.

The first time he saw her after the breakup was at the Monaco Grand Prix, only weeks later. She was there for a McLaren event, looking effortlessly stunning in a tailored jumpsuit and sleek heels. For a moment, Lando had forgotten how to breathe.

“Hey,” she had greeted him with a tentative smile, her eyes betraying

her nervousness.

“Hey,” he had replied, his voice rougher than he intended.

They exchanged polite conversation, pretending nothing had changed. But the way her eyes lingered on him when she thought he wasn’t looking told him everything he needed to know.

That night, as he lay in bed, he scrolled through her Instagram, lingering on the photos she had posted from the paddock. She still wore the same lanyard with his car number, still smiled like she belonged there. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like she was his.

Y/n_l/n just posted!

liked by AlexandraMalenaSaint, user3568 and 8902 others

'Race day! 🧡'

@Mclaren

View comments.

New Year’s Eve came and went in a blur. Lando had accepted an invitation to a Dubai party with a group of friends, hoping the change of scenery would distract him. Magui Corceiro was there, lively and charming, and for a fleeting moment, Lando thought her laugh might drown out the ache in his chest.

But then midnight struck, and as fireworks lit up the sky, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. Was she watching the fireworks from London? Was she thinking of him, too?

He didn’t reach out. Neither did she.

Y/n_l/n just posted! landonorris just posted!

Liked by 5678 others Liked by 9073 others

'NYE in London.

Happy new year!' ‘Happy new year from Dubai!

View comments. View comments

Weeks later, he was invited to a dinner in London, organized by a mutual friend. Lando wasn’t in the mood for socializing, but he went anyway, hoping the company might lift his spirits.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chilly February air outside. Lando was nursing a glass of wine when he heard her voice.

“Hi,” Y/N said softly, stopping just inside the doorway.

Lando looked up, his heart skipping a beat. She looked just as he remembered—beautiful, poised, and slightly nervous.

“Hi,” he managed to reply, standing up awkwardly.

Their mutual friend, blissfully unaware of the tension between them, waved her over to the table. Lando watched as she took the seat across from him, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked away.

The evening passed in a haze of small talk and forced laughter. Lando barely touched his food, his attention glued to Y/N. He noticed the way she brushed her hair behind her ear when she was uncomfortable, the way her lips pressed together when she was trying not to cry.

After dinner, their friends slowly began to trickle out, leaving the two of them alone at the table. For a while, neither spoke.

“How have you been?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Busy,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. “Work’s been… hectic.”

“Yeah, same,” he said, though he didn’t mean it.

The conversation faltered, but neither of them made a move to leave.

“Why are we doing this?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending like we don’t miss each other.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Miss me?”

Her eyes finally met his, glistening with unshed tears. “Every day.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, without thinking, Lando reached across the table and took her hand.

“Come home with me,” he said softly.

She hesitated, her breath hitching. But the look in his eyes—the raw, unguarded vulnerability—made her decision for her.

That night, as they sat together on Lando’s couch, the barriers between them crumbled. They talked for hours, revisiting the pain of their breakup, the loneliness they had both felt, and the undeniable pull that had brought them back together.

“I hated the holidays without you,” Y/N admitted, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Me too,” Lando said, wrapping an arm around her. “It didn’t feel right. Nothing does.”

They agreed to take things slow, to rebuild what they had lost without the pressure of the past.

Y/n_l/n just posted! landonorris just posted!

Liked by 5678 others Liked by 9073 others

'Elegance in every sip🍷' 'Good food, better vibes’

View comments. View comments.

For the next few months, they kept their reunion private. Y/N continued attending races, blending seamlessly into the paddock. But those who paid close attention began to notice subtle changes—the way Lando’s eyes lit up when he saw her, the soft smiles they exchanged when they thought no one was looking.

“Are you two…?” Max asked one day, his eyebrows raised.

Lando grinned but didn’t answer.

By the time the final race of the season rolled around in Dubai, the rumours had reached a fever pitch. Fans dissected every glance, every Instagram story, every tiny clue. But neither Lando nor Y/N confirmed anything.

The race itself was electric. Lando drove like a man possessed, battling through the pack to claim his first-ever Grand Prix win. The crowd erupted as he crossed the finish line, the roar of cheers echoing through the night.

When he climbed out of his car, he didn’t head for the podium or his team. Instead, he ran straight to the McLaren garage, his helmet and balaclava discarded along the way.

Y/N was standing there, headphones on, her eyes glued to the screen. She didn’t notice him until he was right in front of her.

F1 just posted!

Liked by user12, yukifan23 and 5379 others

'Model Y/n L/n seen in the McLaren garage watching Lando Norris'

'Are they back together? let us know your thought.'

view comments.

“Lando, what—”

Before she could finish, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, right there in front of everyone.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, then exploded into chaos. Cameras flashed, fans screamed, and the internet went into meltdown mode.

When Lando finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Took us long enough, didn’t it?” he said.

Y/N laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yeah. It did.”

F1 just posted!

liked by Alex_fan, max_fan12 and 5,678 others

'Formula 1 Driver Lando Norris and Model Y/n L/n seen kissing and being affectionate after the Abu Dhabi Grand prix, after Lando Norris won the grand prix'

@landonorris @Y/n_l/n

Later that night, as they celebrated with the team, Lando and y/n posted a photo of them together on Instagram with the caption: “Back where we belong.”

Y/n_l/n posted a story! landonorris posted a story!

Back Where we belong. Back Where we belong.

It was a moment ten years in the making, and this time, neither of them was letting go.

NEW STORY

ANYWAYS LMK WHAT YOU WANT NEXT

REQUEST ARE OPEN NOW!

NEXT STORY MIGHT BE A CHARLES STORY ;)

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

BYEEEEE 💋

#fluff #yn x lando #lando x reader #ln4 #lando imagine

133 notes · View notes

iamquiantrelle · 9 days ago

Text

AZURE REUNIONS •────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: william saliba x black oc (spring has sprung series)

# tags: @formulafortyfour @kennaskorner @jessnotwiththemess @oceanfanatic06 @eriks-girl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @everlyjay @kj77 @muglermami @sailurmewn @goldenngt @cranberryjulce

# summary: The Greek islands are a dream—crystal-clear waters, endless skies, and nights that stretch into forever. Wilo expected a wild boys’ trip, but he never expected her. A face from his past, a connection that never quite faded, and now, fate has placed them on the same sun-drenched shores once again. The moment he sees her, he knows—this isn’t coincidence, this is a second chance. As waves crash and blue horizons stretch before them, Wilo is determined to make things right, to prove that some loves are meant to find their way back home.

The Greek sun beat down mercilessly as William Saliba—Wilo to his friends—adjusted his sunglasses and stretched his long limbs across the lounger. Mykonos spread out before him like a postcard come to life: whitewashed buildings cascading down to a sea so blue it seemed otherworldly. Three days into what his Arsenal teammates had dubbed "the freedom tour"—a week-long celebration of the season's end—and Wilo was finally beginning to unwind.

The azure waters stretched endlessly toward the horizon, matching the cloudless sky above until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. He'd needed this—the break from routine, from pressure, from the constant scrutiny that came with being one of the Premier League's most formidable defenders. Here, he could just be Wilo, not the football star whose every move was analyzed and dissected.

"Bro, you want another?" Gabriel Martinelli called from the villa's outdoor bar, holding up a bottle.

Wilo waved his hand lazily. "Non, I'm good. Too early for more drinks."

His English had improved over his years in London, but he still spoke with a thick French accent, words sometimes coming out in the wrong order. His teammates teased him relentlessly about it, but he didn't mind. Language had never been his strength. On the pitch, he spoke a different language entirely—one of physicality, positioning, and tactical intelligence that required no words.

"Suit yourself!" Martinelli laughed, pouring himself another and returning to a heated game of cards with Ben White and Bukayo Saka.

Wilo closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, feeling the warmth seep into his muscles. The season had been brutal—fifty-plus matches of constant pressure, the weight of expectation crushing down on every performance. They'd come close. So close. But close wasn't enough, not when Manchester City seemed unstoppable. Next season, he promised himself. Next season would be different.

"I'm going for walk," he announced to no one in particular, rising from the lounger. "Need to stretch legs."

"Don't get lost," Saka called without looking up from his cards. "Remember what happened in Dubai!"

Wilo rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone and a towel. The Dubai incident was never going to die—one wrong turn and suddenly he was five miles from the team hotel without transportation, his phone dead. Arteta had nearly sent a search party.

"I know where I go this time," he assured them, sliding his feet into sandals and heading down the stone pathway that led from their hillside villa toward the beach.

The descent to the shore was steep, but the views made it worthwhile. Infinity pools melded visually with the sea beyond, creating an optical illusion of endless blue. Bougainvillea spilled over white walls in vibrant splashes of fuchsia, and the scent of saltwater mingled with sunscreen and grilled seafood from beachside tavernas.

When he reached the sand, he removed his sandals, enjoying the heat beneath his feet. The beach was busy but not crowded—their villa manager had recommended this particular stretch specifically because it wasn't overrun with tourists. Just wealthy enough to be exclusive, but not so popular that privacy was impossible.

He walked along the shoreline, letting the water occasionally lap at his ankles, nodding politely at other vacationers. A group of young women giggled as he passed, and he smiled politely but kept moving. He was used to the attention—his height, his build, his face that had graced enough football magazines to be recognizable even to casual fans. But he hadn't come to Greece for that kind of distraction.

He'd come to reset, to find his center again after the season's disappointments. To prepare mentally for the challenges ahead. At twenty-three, he was entering his prime years, when defenders typically came into their own. The football world expected greatness from him, and he expected it from himself.

Wilo paused to take a photo of the horizon, thinking it might make a good Instagram post later. As he lowered his phone, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye further down the beach.

A woman standing ankle-deep in the water, her back to him, looking out at the horizon. There was something about her posture, the way she held herself, the curve of her neck as she tilted her head slightly upward toward the sun. Something hauntingly familiar that made his breath catch.

It couldn't be.

But as she turned, pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, the profile that came into view confirmed what his instincts had already recognized.

Nadia.

Five years since he'd last seen her. Five years since Paris, since promises that couldn't be kept, since futures that diverged too sharply to reconcile.

Without conscious decision, his feet carried him toward her, his heart hammering against his ribs. She hadn't noticed him yet, her attention on a small shell she'd retrieved from the water, turning it over in her hands with characteristic curiosity.

"Nadia?" His voice came out rougher than intended.

She turned, confusion giving way to shock as recognition dawned. Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening.

"Wilo?" Her voice hadn't changed—that same melodic quality that had once made him look forward to even the most mundane phone conversations. "Is that really you?"

"C'est moi," he said, and then caught himself. "It's me. I can't believe... what are you doing here?"

"I'm here with friends," she gestured vaguely up the beach where a group lounged under umbrellas. "Girls' trip. What about you?"

"Same. But with the boys," he pointed toward the hillside. "We have villa up there."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, five years of distance and unsaid words hanging between them. She looked different—her hair was shorter, falling just past her shoulders now instead of down her back. Her face was more defined, having lost the last traces of girlhood. But her eyes were the same—that particular shade of amber that had always reminded him of honey in sunlight.

"You look good," he said finally, inadequately. "Very good."

A small smile played at her lips. "You too. I see English Premier League agrees with you."

"You follow?" he asked, surprised. She'd never been particularly interested in football during their time together, tolerating rather than embracing his passion.

"It's hard not to hear about Arsenal's French wall," she said with a shrug. "You're all over social media these days."

Another silence, less awkward but weighted with history.

"How long you stay?" he asked.

"Five more days."

"Me too."

The coincidence—or was it fate?—hung between them. Same island, same week, after five years of complete separation. The statistical improbability of it made his head spin.

"Would you..." he began, then hesitated. "Maybe we could catch up? Dinner?"

She seemed to consider it, tilting her head slightly in that way he remembered so well. Evaluating, analyzing. Nadia had always been the thoughtful one, the planner to his impulsivity.

"I don't know, Wilo," she said finally. "Last time we saw each other didn't exactly end well."

The understatement made him wince. Their final argument had been spectacular, the kind neighbors still talked about years later. Both of them too stubborn, too convinced of their own paths, too unwilling to compromise.

"That was long time ago," he said. "We were kids. Just dinner, Nadia. For old times."

She looked at him, really looked at him, as if trying to read intentions he wasn't even sure of himself. All he knew was that seeing her again had awakened something he'd thought long buried, and the idea of her walking away without at least one conversation felt unbearable.

"Just dinner," she repeated, not quite a question.

"Just dinner," he confirmed. "I promise no big drama. Just catch up."

A wave rolled in, washing over their feet, as if the universe itself was pushing them together. She glanced down at it, then back up at him.

"Okay," she said finally. "Dinner. But I choose the place."

Relief flooded through him. "Deal. You choose. When?"

"Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. There's a place in town called Nautilus. Do you have something to write with?"

He quickly pulled out his phone, typing the name into his notes app. "Nautilus. Eight. I be there."

"I'll be there," she corrected automatically, a ghost of their old dynamic when she'd help him with his French-accented English.

He grinned, the familiar exchange warming him more than the Greek sun. "I'll be there," he repeated carefully.

She nodded, satisfied. "I should get back to my friends."

"Me too," he said, though he had no real desire to return to the villa just yet.

As she turned to go, she paused. "It's strange seeing you again, Wilo."

"Good strange or bad strange?" he asked.

That small smile again, the one that revealed nothing. "Just strange," she said. "See you tomorrow."

He watched her walk away, her sundress billowing slightly in the sea breeze, unable to tear his eyes away until she rejoined her friends in the distance.

Only then did he realize he was grinning like an idiot, standing alone at the edge of the Aegean Sea, feeling like he'd been given a gift he didn't deserve.

"Nautilus," he repeated to himself. "Eight o'clock."

He had twenty-four hours to figure out what he was going to say to the woman who'd once known him better than anyone—and who'd once broken his heart so thoroughly he'd sworn never to let it happen again.

____________________________________________

"Hold up, hold up, hold up," Saka exclaimed, nearly spitting out his drink. "You're telling us you ran into Nadia? THE Nadia? Here? In Greece?"

Wilo nodded, sprawled on one of the villa's outdoor sofas as the sunset painted the whitewashed walls in shades of pink and gold. He hadn't intended to tell his teammates about the encounter, but the moment he'd returned to the villa, practically floating, they'd known something was up.

"Of all the beaches in all the world," Ben White said with a dramatic accent, "she walks onto yours. That's some movie-level coincidence, mate."

"Maybe not coincidence," Wilo said thoughtfully, rolling his glass between his palms. "Maybe is... what you call it? Destiny."

The group erupted in good-natured laughter and exaggerated groans.

"Here we go," Martinelli teased. "Wilo the romantic is back!"

But Wilo wasn't bothered by their ribbing. None of them had known him back then, during his time with Nadia in Paris. They hadn't seen how completely she'd occupied his world, how thoroughly their futures had seemed intertwined before reality—in the form of his transfer to England and her art school acceptance in New York—had torn them apart.

"So what's the plan?" Saka asked, leaning forward with genuine interest. "You said you're meeting her for dinner tomorrow?"

"Yeah, at place called Nautilus."

"Oh, that's fancy," White whistled. "What are you going to wear?"

The question hit Wilo like a physical blow. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "I... don't know. I didn't pack for this."

"Don't worry," Martinelli clapped him on the shoulder. "We've got you. Operation Win-Back-Nadia commences now."

"No, no, no," Wilo protested, sitting up straight. "Is not about winning her back. Just dinner. Just catch up."

The knowing glances his teammates exchanged told him they weren't buying it for a second. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure he believed it either.

_____________________________________________

The Nautilus was exactly the kind of place Nadia would choose—elegant without being pretentious, set on a cliff overlooking the sea with strings of lights creating a canopy above the outdoor terrace. Wilo arrived ten minutes early, dressed in the linen shirt and tailored pants Saka had insisted were "perfect, trust me." His hair was freshly cut, his goatee meticulously trimmed, and if his heartbeat was slightly erratic, well, that could be blamed on the steep walk up from the taxi drop-off.

"Table for Bardin?" he asked the hostess, using Nadia's last name.

He was led to a corner table with an unobstructed view of the moonlit sea. The perfect spot. Of course she'd requested the perfect spot. Some things never changed.

He ordered a sparkling water and tried not to check his watch every thirty seconds. At exactly eight o'clock, he saw her enter, pausing to speak to the hostess. She wore a simple blue dress that somehow managed to match the exact shade of the Aegean at midday, her curly hair swept up to reveal the elegant line of her neck.

Wilo stood as she approached, suddenly feeling seventeen again—nervous, awkward, hopelessly enamored.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Salut—I mean, hello," he corrected himself, pulling out her chair.

She smiled at his slip, settling into her seat. "Still switching between languages, I see."

"Some habits hard to break," he admitted, returning to his own chair. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you. You clean up nicely yourself."

A waiter appeared with menus, and they both seized the opportunity to gather their thoughts behind the pretense of studying the offerings.

"The sea bass is supposed to be amazing here," she offered after a moment.

"You still don't eat meat?" he asked, remembering her pescatarian preferences.

She looked surprised that he remembered. "No, I don't."

"Some things don't change," he said softly.

Her eyes met his over the menu. "And some things do."

The tension in those words was palpable, a gentle warning that this wasn't going to be a simple nostalgic trip down memory lane. Wilo nodded, accepting the subtle boundary she'd drawn.

They ordered—sea bass for her, lamb for him, and a bottle of local white wine to share—and then there was nothing left to hide behind.

"So," he began, "New York was good to you?"

"It was," she nodded. "The art program was everything I hoped for. I'm working as a curator now at a gallery in SoHo."

"Curator," he repeated, trying the word carefully. "That's impressive."

"What about you? Besides the obvious football success."

He shrugged. "Football take most of my time. I buy some properties in London. Learning about investment. Nothing exciting like art."

"I saw that amazing goal-line clearance against Liverpool last season," she said, surprising him again. "The one where you did that... sliding thing at the last possible second."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Sliding thing? You mean tackle?"

"Whatever it's called," she waved dismissively, but her eyes were smiling. "It was remarkable."

"You really do follow the games," he said, genuinely touched.

She took a sip of her wine, considering her next words carefully. "I didn't at first. It was too... difficult. But eventually, curiosity won out. You've done well for yourself, Wilo. I'm happy for you."

"Thank you." He hesitated, then decided to just ask directly. "Are you seeing anyone?"

She raised an eyebrow at his directness. "Getting right to it, aren't we?"

"Sorry, I—"

"No," she interrupted his apology. "No, I'm not seeing anyone currently. I was engaged about a year ago, but we broke it off."

The revelation hit harder than he expected. The thought of her almost marrying someone else created a hollow feeling in his chest. "I'm sorry to hear."

"Don't be. It was the right decision." She tilted her head, studying him. "What about you? The famous footballer must have women lining up."

He laughed dryly. "Not right ones. Had some relationships, nothing serious." He didn't add that he'd measured every woman he'd dated against an impossible standard—her.

Their appetizers arrived, giving him a moment to regroup. As they ate, the conversation shifted to safer topics—mutual friends from Paris, memories of places they'd visited together, updates on family members.

By the time the main courses arrived, the initial tension had eased somewhat, replaced by the comfortable rhythm they'd once shared so naturally. She still laughed at his occasional language mix-ups, and he still found himself mesmerized by the way she used her hands when describing something she was passionate about.

"Remember that time in Marseille?" he asked as they were finishing their meals. "When we got lost trying to find that restaurant your friend recommended?"

Her face lit up with the memory. "And it started pouring rain! We were soaked by the time we found it."

"But the bouillabaisse was worth it," he added, grinning.

"It really was," she agreed, her expression softening with nostalgia.

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below and the gentle clinking of glasses from nearby tables.

"Why did you agree to dinner, Nadia?" he asked finally, the question that had been burning in his mind since their beach encounter.

She considered him for a long moment. "Curiosity, I suppose. And perhaps a sense that we left things... unfinished."

"Unfinished," he repeated, turning the word over in his mind. "That's good way to say it."

"How would you describe it?" she asked.

He leaned back, searching for the right words in his second language. "Like book where last chapters got ripped out. Story not complete."

Something flickered in her eyes—recognition, perhaps, or a shared regret. "That's poetic, coming from you."

"I have my moments," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "Not often, but sometimes."

The waiter appeared to clear their plates and offer dessert menus. They both declined but ordered coffees.

"Walk after?" Wilo suggested. "Beach is beautiful at night."

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she'd refuse. But then she nodded. "I'd like that."

He paid the bill despite her protests—some old-fashioned gallantry he'd never quite shaken—and they made their way down the winding path that led from the restaurant toward the moonlit shore.

The night was warm, the air heavy with the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the sand, where Nadia slipped off her sandals, prompting Wilo to do the same.

"I've missed this," she said quietly, looking out at the silvery path the moon cast across the water.

"Greece?" he asked, though he knew that wasn't what she meant.

She smiled knowingly at his deliberate misunderstanding. "No. This feeling. The ease we always had together, even when we were arguing."

"We did argue a lot," he admitted, remembering their passionate debates.

"Because we both cared so much. About everything. Our futures, our beliefs, each other." She looked up at him, her expression serious in the moonlight. "That was never our problem."

"What was our problem then?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

She sighed, looking back out at the sea. "Timing. Circumstance. Youth. Take your pick."

"Not love," he said firmly. "Love was never problem."

"No," she agreed softly. "Love wasn't the problem."

The admission hung between them, weighty with possibility.

"Nadia," he began, gathering his courage. "I need to tell you something."

She turned to face him fully, sand shifting beneath her bare feet. "What is it?"

"I never stopped..." The words caught in his throat, suddenly too enormous to voice aloud. He tried again. "When I see you on beach yesterday, my heart... it recognize you before my eyes did. Like it remember you, even after all these years."

Her expression was unreadable, moonlight casting half her face in shadow. "Wilo—"

"Let me finish, please," he said gently. "I'm not good with words, you know this. But I need say this. Seeing you again... it make me realize what I been missing. Not just you, but how I feel when I with you. Like best version of myself."

She crossed her arms, not defensively but as if holding herself together. "That's not fair, Wilo. We can't just pick up where we left off. Too much has happened. We're different people now."

"I know, I know," he hastened to add. "I not asking for that. I just... I want chance to know this Nadia." He gestured to her. "The curator from New York. The woman you become."

"And then what?" she challenged, her voice gentle but firm. "You live in London. I live in New York. We're still an ocean apart, just like before."

"Things different now," he insisted. "I have more control of my life. More... flexibility."

"Do you?" she asked skeptically. "The Premier League doesn't exactly have a light schedule, Wilo. And my career is important to me—you know that."

"I know," he nodded, remembering how that very conflict had torn them apart before. Her ambition had matched his own, but in a different direction, a different continent. "But maybe we older now, wiser. Maybe we find way that work for both."

She didn't respond immediately, and he didn't push. The waves lapped gently at the shore, filling the silence with their rhythmic whisper.

"We have three more days here," she said finally. "Let's not rush into anything. Let's just... see where these days take us. No promises, no expectations."

It wasn't everything he wanted, but it was a beginning. An open door rather than a closed one.

"I can do that," he agreed, relief washing through him.

She smiled then, a genuine smile that reached her eyes, and on impulse, he reached for her hand. To his surprise, she let him take it, their fingers intertwining naturally as if no time had passed at all.

"So, what's on agenda for tomorrow?" he asked, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

"I'm going on a boat tour with my friends in the morning," she said. "But I'm free in the afternoon."

"Maybe we explore town? I hear there is good ice cream place."

The corners of her mouth twitched upward. "Still all about the ice cream, I see."

"Some things never change," he echoed her earlier words with a grin.

They walked a bit further down the beach, hand in hand, talking about small things—her favorite exhibitions at the gallery, his adventures in learning to cook British food, the book she was currently reading, the TV show he'd been binge-watching on team flights.

When they finally made their way back to where their paths would diverge—her to her hotel, him to his villa—there was a moment of uncertainty, of possibility.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, her voice soft in the night air.

"Thank you for saying yes," he replied.

She reached up, hesitated, then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Goodnight, Wilo."

"Goodnight, Nadia," he murmured, watching as she turned and walked away, her blue dress shimmering under the streetlights.

He stood there long after she'd disappeared from view, his cheek still warm from her kiss, his heart full of a cautious hope he hadn't felt in years.

______________________________________________

The next three days passed in a blur of shared moments—exploring the winding streets of Mykonos town together, swimming in secluded coves she somehow knew about, watching the sunset from a cliff-side perch, laughing over drinks with their respective friends who had, inevitably, joined forces by the third day.

Wilo found himself falling all over again—not for the memory of who she had been, but for the woman she had become. More confident, more grounded, with a quiet wisdom that came from the years they'd spent apart. She challenged him still, questioned his perspectives, pushed him to think deeper about the world beyond football.

And somewhere along the way, he thought—hoped—that perhaps she was falling a little bit too. There were moments when he'd catch her watching him with an expression that mirrored his own wonderment, moments when her laughter would linger a beat too long, moments when the space between them seemed charged with unspoken possibility.

But she maintained that careful distance, never quite crossing the line from friendship back into romance. The kiss on the cheek that first night remained their only physical contact beyond the occasional brush of hands or shoulders.

On their final night, the inevitable conversation could no longer be avoided. They sat on the beach where they'd first reunited, a full circle that felt both fitting and painful.

"So," she said, drawing patterns in the sand with her finger. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he echoed, dreading the word. "You go back to New York. I go back to London."

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. "It's been a wonderful few days, Wilo. Like a dream."

"Doesn't have to end," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "We could make this work, Nadia. I know we could."

Now she did look up, her expression gentle but resolute. "Long distance destroyed us once before."

"We were kids then," he argued. "I'm established now. Could visit during breaks in season. You have what, two weeks holiday? Could spend in London."

"And that would be enough?" she asked. "A handful of weeks scattered throughout the year?"

He wanted to say yes, to promise that it would be, but honesty compelled him to admit, "I don't know. But better than nothing. Better than another five years without you."

She was quiet for a long moment, and in the silence, he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind, weighing possibilities against practicalities, desires against realities.

"I need time, Wilo," she said finally. "This week has been... unexpected. Wonderful, but unexpected. I can't just jump back into something so complicated without thinking it through."

He wanted to argue, to persuade, to make his case more forcefully. But he understood her hesitation. It mirrored his own fears, buried beneath his hope and longing.

"How much time?" he asked instead.

She smiled at his directness. "I don't know. That's not how this works."

"Then what? We go separate ways tomorrow and maybe someday you call? Maybe someday I get text? That's not enough for me, Nadia."

His intensity didn't seem to surprise her. If anything, her expression softened further. "What if... what if we agree to talk? Regular calls, like actual adults. Get to know each other again properly, without the holiday bubble."

It wasn't everything, but it was something concrete. A connection that would extend beyond these azure shores.

"I can do that," he agreed. "But I visit too. And you visit. When possible."

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "We can try. No promises beyond that. Just... trying."

For now, it was enough. It had to be.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked suddenly, the question escaping before he could reconsider.

Her eyes widened slightly, but instead of answering, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Her lips met his, soft and tentative at first, then with growing certainty. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss, pouring into it all the words his limited English couldn't express.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, she rested her forehead against his. "I forgot how that felt," she whispered.

"I never forget," he replied softly. "Not even once."

She pulled back slightly, searching his face in the moonlight. The vulnerability in his expression must have told her everything she needed to know, because she kissed him again, more firmly this time, her fingers threading through his short curls.

For a moment, the years apart dissolved, and they were just Wilo and Nadia again, two people who had once planned their lives around each other. But reality couldn't be held at bay forever.

"It's getting late," she said eventually, reluctantly. "I should go back. Early flight tomorrow."

His heart sank, but he nodded. "I walk you to hotel."

They stood, brushing sand from their clothes, and began the journey back in comfortable silence, his arm around her shoulders, her head occasionally leaning against him. The night air was cooler now, a gentle reminder that all perfect moments eventually end.

Outside her hotel, they faced each other one last time on Greek soil.

"So," he said, suddenly awkward again. "We talk soon? When you land in New York?"

"When I land," she confirmed. "And Wilo?"

"Yes?"

She smiled, a mix of emotions playing across her features. "Thank you for not giving up. For seeing me on that beach and coming over."

"I see you anywhere," he said simply. "Any beach, any city, any country. I always see you, Nadia."

She blinked rapidly, her eyes suspiciously bright. "That's the problem, isn't it? We see each other too clearly. Always have."

Before he could respond, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him once more, a feather-light touch that felt somehow more significant than their deeper kisses earlier.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight," he echoed, watching as she disappeared into the hotel lobby.

The villa was quiet when he returned, his teammates already turned in for the night, preparing for their own departures the next day. Wilo moved through the darkened rooms toward the terrace, needing the open air to process the evening's events.

He sat on the edge of a lounger, looking out at the same view that had greeted him when he'd first arrived—the endless blue of the Aegean, now turned silver under the night sky. So much had changed in just a few days. He had arrived with no expectations beyond rest and friendship; he was leaving with his heart once again entangled with Nadia's.

Was he setting himself up for another heartbreak? Possibly. Probably, even. Long-distance relationships rarely survived the Premier League season, let alone the ocean between London and New York.

But as he sat there under the Greek stars, Wilo couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment. Whatever happened next—whether they found a way to bridge the distance or eventually accepted that timing and circumstance were still against them—these days had been a gift. A chance to close a chapter that had been left painfully open, or perhaps to begin writing a new one altogether.

His phone buzzed with a text message: Made it back to my room. Sleep well, Wilo. Talk tomorrow.

He smiled at the screen, typing back: Bonne nuit, Nadia. Safe travels.

______________________________________________

The London air felt impossibly heavy after the lightness of Greece, the gray skies a stark contrast to the endless blue he'd left behind. Wilo moved through his apartment with a strange sense of disconnection, as if part of him had remained on that beach with Nadia.

Three days had passed since their return. Three days of training, of settling back into his routine, of checking his phone too often for messages. They had talked when she'd landed in New York, a brief conversation filled with jet-lagged yawns on her part and nervous laughter on his. They had texted intermittently since then—casual messages about unpacking, about returning to work, about the weather in their respective cities.

But it wasn't the same. Already, the magic of their Greek reunion was fading, reality asserting itself in the form of time zones and daily obligations. Five hours' difference meant her mornings were his afternoons, her evenings his late nights. Finding time to connect beyond quick texts was proving challenging.

Wilo tried not to let doubt creep in, tried to focus on the promises they'd made under the Mediterranean stars. But as training intensified in preparation for the new season, as his schedule filled with commitments, he found himself wondering if they were simply repeating their past mistakes.

"You look like someone stole your favorite boots," Saka commented during a water break, dropping down beside Wilo on the training ground bench.

Wilo shrugged, not wanting to discuss his romantic troubles at work. But Saka had been there in Greece, had witnessed the reconnection, had even spent an evening with Nadia and her friends.

"Things complicated with Nadia," he admitted finally.

"Already? It's been what, four days?"

"Distance," Wilo said simply. "Always the problem."

Saka considered this, taking a long drink from his water bottle. "You know what your issue is, mate? You're overthinking it."

Wilo laughed dryly. "That not usually my problem."

"With football, no. With her? Definitely. I saw you two together. That's not something you walk away from because of some miles."

"Ocean," Wilo corrected. "Not miles. Ocean."

"Same difference," Saka dismissed with a wave. "Look, what's Arsenal's motto?"

"Victoria Concordia Crescit," Wilo recited automatically.

"Yeah, and what's it mean?"

"Victory through harmony."

"Exactly. You want victory in this? Find your harmony. Stop trying to solve everything at once."

Wilo mulled over Saka's surprisingly philosophical advice as they returned to drills. Find harmony. Perhaps he was approaching this all wrong, trying to solve years of separation in days of reconnection.

That evening, instead of their usual text exchange, he called her. It was early evening in New York, and he caught her just as she was leaving the gallery.

"Wilo?" she answered, surprise evident in her voice. "Everything okay?"

"Everything fine," he assured her. "Just want to hear your voice. That okay?"

Her laugh sent warmth spreading through him despite the thousands of miles between them. "Of course it's okay. I'm just walking home. Tell me about your day."

So he did. He told her about training, about Saka's advice, about the rain that had started falling as he drove home. And she told him about a new exhibition she was preparing, about the sandwich shop near her gallery that reminded her of one they used to visit in Paris, about the sunset she could see from her apartment window.

Small things. Ordinary things. But as they talked, the distance seemed to shrink, the connection strengthening with each shared moment.

"I miss you," he said when they finally ran out of daily minutiae to discuss.

"I miss you too," she admitted, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "This is strange, isn't it? Feeling so connected to someone so far away."

"Good strange or bad strange?" he echoed their beach conversation.

"Just strange," she replied, completing the callback. "But I like it."

____________________________________________

Weeks passed, turning into months. Summer faded into autumn, autumn into winter. The Premier League season was in full swing, Arsenal once again challenging for the title, and Wilo found himself at the center of it all, his partnership with Gabriel at the heart of the league's stingiest defense.

Through it all, Nadia remained a constant presence, if not physically then in daily calls, video chats, and messages. They established a rhythm—morning texts from him, evening calls from her. Weekend video chats when their schedules aligned. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs.

In November, after an international break, he flew to New York for three precious days. She showed him her world—her tiny but art-filled apartment, her gallery in SoHo, her favorite coffee shop where the baristas knew her order by heart. They walked through Central Park as the last autumn leaves fell around them, ate at restaurants where no one recognized him, and spent hours talking in her apartment, making up for months of virtual connection with real, tangible presence.

When he left, the goodbye was painful but different from their Greek farewell. This time, they knew when they would see each other again—Christmas in London, where she'd meet his family again, see his new world.

Christmas came and went, a whirlwind of family gatherings, football matches (which she attended, cheering louder than anyone when he made a crucial block against Chelsea), and quiet moments in his London apartment. For two weeks, they lived a version of what their life together might be—cooking breakfast, watching movies, arguing good-naturedly about his lack of art on his walls.

January brought another separation, but February offered a week together in Paris during Fashion Week, where she had business and he had a Champions League match against PSG. They stole moments between her meetings and his training, revisiting old haunts, creating new memories to layer over the painful ones from their youth.

It wasn't easy. There were arguments about missed calls, frustrations about time zones, tearful late-night conversations about whether they were being realistic. There were days when the distance felt insurmountable, when the future seemed impossibly complicated.

But there were also moments of perfect clarity—like when she sent him a photo of her watching his match on her laptop at 4 am New York time, or when he arranged for her favorite Parisian chocolates to be delivered on her birthday, or when they fell asleep on video calls, neither wanting to be the first to hang up.

In April, as the season reached its crucial final stretch, Wilo found himself unusually distracted during training. Arsenal were two points clear at the top with four matches remaining. Every game was essentially a cup final now. He couldn't afford distractions.

"Everything alright, William?" Arteta asked after a particularly poor session where Wilo had been beaten by Martinelli multiple times.

"Yes, coach. Just... personal things."

Arteta studied him with that penetrating gaze that seemed to read players' thoughts. "The New York situation?"

Wilo shouldn't have been surprised that his manager knew. Nothing escaped Arteta's attention. "Yes."

"Want my advice?"

"Please."

"Some things are more important than football." Arteta placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not many. But some. Don't let those slip away because of timing."

That night, Wilo called Nadia earlier than usual, catching her on her lunch break.

"Hey," she answered, the sounds of New York traffic in the background. "Isn't it late there?"

"Not too late," he said, though it was nearly midnight. "I need ask you something."

"Okay?" She sounded concerned. "Everything alright?"

"Arsenal offer me new contract," he said, the words coming quickly before he lost his nerve. "Five years. Very good terms."

"Wilo, that's wonderful!" Her genuine excitement warmed him. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you. But before I sign, I need know something."

"What's that?"

He took a deep breath. "Would you consider move to London? Not now, not tomorrow. But... sometime? If things continue good between us?"

The silence that followed seemed to stretch forever, the phone line humming with possibility and fear.

"That's a big question," she said finally, her voice careful.

"I know. And I not expecting answer now. Just... need to know if it possible. If this—us—has future beyond calls and visits."

More silence, then: "What about my career? My gallery?"

"London has many galleries," he ventured. "But I understand if—"

"No," she interrupted. "Let me think. Actually think about this." Another pause. "I've been offered a position consulting for the Tate Modern's new contemporary wing. I turned it down two months ago because... well, because of distance. From you."

It was his turn to be silent, processing this revelation. "You never told me."

"Because I wasn't ready to have this conversation," she said honestly. "I wasn't sure if what we had was... sustainable."

"And now?"

He could almost hear her thinking, weighing options, calculating variables. The curator's mind at work.

"I could call them," she said slowly. "See if the position is still available. Or something similar."

Hope bloomed in his chest, powerful and terrifying. "You would consider?"

"I'm not making any promises," she cautioned. "But yes. I would consider it. For us."

Those two words—"for us"—echoed in his mind, more valuable than any contract, any victory, any trophy.

"I love you," he said, the words he'd been holding back for months, for years. "Never stopped."

Another pause, shorter this time. "I love you too, Wilo. That was never our problem, remember?"

_________________________________________

The final match of the season at the Emirates Stadium was electric, 60,000 fans creating a wall of sound as Arsenal faced Manchester City in what amounted to a title-deciding clash. A win would secure Arsenal's first Premier League title in two decades. Anything less, and City would lift the trophy yet again.

Wilo stood in the tunnel, adrenaline coursing through his veins, focusing his mind on the tactical briefing Arteta had just delivered. Ninety minutes to make history. Ninety minutes to prove they had overcome the psychological barrier that had held them back for so long.

As they lined up to walk onto the pitch, he glanced up at the stands where he knew she was sitting. Nadia had flown in the previous night, a surprise he hadn't expected until after the season's conclusion. "I wouldn't miss this," she'd said when she appeared at his door, jet-lagged but smiling. "Not for anything."

The match was brutal, a chess match between two tactical masterminds in Arteta and Guardiola. City dominated possession, Arsenal absorbed pressure and countered with precision. At halftime, it remained scoreless, both teams having hit the woodwork but failed to break through.

In the 67th minute, everything changed. A City corner, headed clear by Gabriel, falling to Saka who launched a counterattack. Ødegaard to Martinelli, Martinelli cutting inside, finding Havertz in space, Havertz's shot deflecting off Dias and looping toward goal...

The Emirates erupted as the ball nestled in the net. 1-0 to the Arsenal.

But twenty minutes was an eternity against City. They poured forward, wave after relentless wave of blue shirts. Saves from Raya, last-ditch tackles from Timber, a goal-line clearance from Gabriel. And in the 89th minute, a moment that would be replayed for decades to come.

Haaland, through on goal, rounding Raya, shooting toward the empty net. Certain equalizer. Certain heartbreak.

Except for Wilo, sprinting from nowhere, stretching every sinew, somehow getting his foot to the ball and sending it spinning away from danger.

The roar that followed was deafening, a primal explosion of relief and joy. Two minutes of regular time. Five minutes of added time. An eternity of defending. And then, finally, mercifully, the whistle.

Arsenal were champions.

The celebrations were a blur—teammates engulfing him, fans storming the pitch, medals, the trophy, champagne, songs, tears. Throughout it all, Wilo kept searching the chaos for one face, the face that had been his constant through the season's highs and lows.

He found her eventually, waiting patiently at the edge of the madness, her eyes shining with pride and something deeper, something that mirrored the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

"You did it," she said simply when he reached her, her voice almost lost in the cacophony around them.

"We did it," he corrected, pulling her into an embrace, not caring who saw, who photographed, who would speculate. None of it mattered in this moment of pure, unfiltered joy.

When he finally released her, he kept one arm around her shoulders, unwilling to let go completely. "I have something tell you."

"That was the greatest save I've ever seen in my life?" she offered with a teasing smile.

He laughed, euphoria making everything brighter, more vivid. "Besides that."

"What then, champion?"

"I sign the contract yesterday," he said. "Five more years at Arsenal."

Her smile dimmed slightly, uncertainty creeping in. "That's wonderful, but—"

"And," he interrupted, "I buy house. In Hampstead. Big house."

Now she looked genuinely confused. "Wilo, that's—"

"With space for art studio," he continued doggedly. "And extra bedroom that could be office. For curator."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, along with something that looked suspiciously like tears. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Only if you want," he said quickly. "Only if job at Tate work out. Only if you ready. I can wait. I wait five years already. Can wait more if needed."

She shook her head, not in refusal but in amazement. "You bought a house with an art studio on the chance I might say yes?"

"I buy house I like," he clarified with a smile. "Art studio just... bonus feature."

Around them, the celebrations continued, players and fans intermingled in shared ecstasy, but they might as well have been alone for all the attention Wilo paid to the chaos.

"The position at the Tate is still open," she said after a moment. "I have an interview next week while I'm here."

Hope surged through him. "You serious?"

"When you asked me before, I reached out to them," she explained. "I wasn't going to tell you until after the season, until after the interview. I didn't want to distract you."

He laughed at the irony. "Too late for that."

"So I've noticed," she smiled, reaching up to brush a streak of champagne from his cheek. "That save was pretty impressive, by the way."

"Had good motivation," he said, gaze intent on hers. "Something worth fighting for."

She studied him for a long moment, the stadium lights reflecting in her eyes. "You know this doesn't guarantee anything, right? I might not get the job. We might find living together impossible. There are still a thousand ways this could go wrong."

"True," he acknowledged. "Life has no guarantees. Except maybe City winning trophies," he added with a grin. "But not today."

"Not today," she agreed, glancing around at the jubilant scene.

"So," he ventured, trying to keep his voice casual despite the hammering of his heart. "You think about it? Living together? Trying for real?"

Nadia took a deep breath, her expression serious despite the celebrations surrounding them. "I need to be clear about something, Wilo. If I do this—if I move here, take this job, live with you—I'm not doing it just for you. I'm doing it for me too. For what I want."

"And what that is?" he asked, holding his breath.

Her serious expression melted into a smile that stole what little breath he had left. "A life with the man I love. A chance to see if what started on a beach in Greece is actually the beginning of something that could last forever."

It wasn't a yes. Not exactly. But it was enough—more than enough. It was possibility, hope, a door cracked open to a future he'd once thought lost.

"I can work with that," he said, pulling her close again as his teammates began another chorus of champions songs nearby.

"I haven't said yes yet," she reminded him, but there was no conviction in her protest.

"You haven't said no either," he pointed out. "And I'm very patient man."

She laughed, the sound momentarily cutting through the stadium's noise. "Since when?"

"Since I learn some things worth waiting for," he said, suddenly serious. "Some people too."

Around them, the celebration continued to swirl, a perfect storm of joy and release. Somewhere, his teammates were looking for him, fans were chanting his name after that goal-line clearance, media were waiting for interviews.

But for now, in this moment, there was only Nadia—the woman he'd lost and found and might lose and find again. The future was uncertain, full of obstacles and possibilities in equal measure. But as he stood on the pitch where he'd just achieved his greatest professional triumph, Wilo realized that the personal triumph might be even greater—the simple fact that she was here, considering a life with him, willing to try despite all the reasons not to.

"So," he asked, "what happens next?"

She smiled that enigmatic smile he'd first seen on a Mykonos beach, the one that revealed nothing and everything all at once. "I don't know, Wilo. But I'm looking forward to finding out."

It wasn't the definitive answer he'd hoped for, but as he looked into her eyes, Wilo realized it was the perfect one—honest, open, full of the same cautious hope he felt. Not a guarantee, but a promise to try. And after everything they'd been through, after all the years apart and the months of bridging the distance, trying was all he could ask for.

For now, it was enough. They were enough.

Under the lights of the Emirates, surrounded by the echoes of victory, he leaned down and kissed her—not as a conclusion, but as a beginning.

#quainwritings #wilo saliba x black oc #william saliba x black female reader #william saliba x black reader #william saliba fan fic #william saliba fic #william saliba fanfic #william saliba x reader #big wilo #wilo saliba #william saliba x black oc #william saliba #spring has sprung mini series

104 notes · View notes

ecoharbor · 11 months ago

Text

📍Dubai, UAE 🇦🇪

87 notes · View notes

kathlare · 4 months ago

Text

is it new years yet?

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: As the clock counts down to midnight on New Year’s Eve in Dubai, Lando and Amelie share a night filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and heartfelt confessions.

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

December 31st, 2024 - Dubai, United Arab Emirates

liked by landonorris, elysiadayman, and others

ameliedayman: i'm getting bored, so can we skip ahead?

View all 38,802 comments

landonorris: skip ahead to me taking that dress off, yeah? → ameliedayman: @landonorris LANDO JESUS CHRIST → landonorris: @ameliedayman what 😇 → minniemills: @ameliedayman girl he didn’t even try to be subtle → jadenhossler: @landonorris bro WE ARE RIGHT HERE

madisonbeer: girl. GIRL. you ate. no crumbs. → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer i tried to bring some ✨drama✨ to the desert 😌

elysiadayman: how do we have the same DNA i don’t understand → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman my villain origin story was just stronger 😌

lanmelforever: lando is 100% down BAD and i respect him for that → notlando: @lanmelforever as he SHOULD be

formulalover: THE CAPTION?? THE DRESS?? yeah she’s mother.

soft4lanmelie: he took that pic. i know it in my bones. → gridgirlxoxo: @soft4amelie he was probably on the floor like a national geographic cameraman

notamclarenstan: i’m not a hater but like… how do you go on vacay and NOT post the bf??? → lanmelie.truther: @notamclarenstan girl, look at her. she’s the main character, always

gridgossip: how do you make the entire city of dubai look like your runway omg → sainzthetics: @gridgossip she’s the final boss of the wags, admit it

georgerussell63: if this is your NYE look i fear for the rest of 2025 → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 resolution: get hotter. so. you’ve been warned.

4wheeldripped: HOW is Lando even functioning standing next to this

hatewatchqueen: why is she everywhere lately omg → twinkdefenseunit: @hatewatchqueen bc your faves are boring and she’s not ❤️ → lanielandfan: @hatewatchqueen literally open a window babe you’re pressed

simsdriverfan: no bc imagine this walking into a party with YOUR man?? lights out

alex_albon: tell Lando i’m praying for him → ameliedayman: @alex_albon he’s in god’s hands now 🫡

-------------

The Burj Khalifa glimmered against the dark velvet of the Dubai night, fireworks already sparking faintly in the distance as midnight approached. The sprawling rooftop where the party was being held pulsed with music and energy, the crowd swaying under the starlit sky. Lando had his arm around Amelie, pulling her against his side as if she might disappear at any moment. They were both tipsy—no, let’s face it—wasted. Amelie’s laughter bubbled over the music, a sound that had Lando grinning stupidly every time he heard it.

—Lan,— she giggled, twisting slightly to look up at him. Her dress shimmered under the twinkling fairy lights, a sleek gold number that hugged her body perfectly. —If you keep holding me like that, I’m going to think you’re scared I’ll leave.—

Lando’s fingers tightened on her waist, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. —I’m not scared, love. I just can’t help myself. You’re too fucking beautiful tonight. And every bastard here knows it.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed, the heat rising beneath her golden skin. —You’re ridiculous.—

—And you love it,— he shot back with a smirk, his free hand sliding down to rest on her hip.

She swatted at his chest, but her fingers lingered, curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. —I do,— she admitted, her voice softer now. —But you’re being clingy.—

—I’m not clingy,— he retorted, though his grip on her said otherwise. —I’m possessive. There’s a difference.—

She raised an eyebrow at him. —Lan, you’ve been kissing me every five minutes.—

—Not enough, if you ask me.— And with that, he dipped his head and kissed her again, his lips capturing hers in a way that made her knees buckle. Amelie could taste the faint hint of tequila on him, but it didn’t matter. Lando kissed her like he’d been waiting all night, like the countdown didn’t matter, and the world outside their bubble didn’t exist.

When they broke apart, Amelie was breathless, her fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck. —You’re insufferable.—

—And yet, here you are,— he teased, leaning his forehead against hers. His voice dropped, a little slurred but sincere. —How did I get so bloody lucky with you, Ames?—

She smiled, brushing a hand over his cheek. —Maybe because you’re charming. When you’re not being a pain in the ass.—

—Charming, huh?— He grinned, the boyish dimple in his cheek deepening. —I’ll take it.—

The music shifted, a countdown beginning to ripple through the crowd. Ten seconds to midnight. Lando tugged her closer, his hands sliding around her waist, fingers splaying across the small of her back.

—Ready for the best kiss of your life, Ames?— he asked, his voice thick with amusement and promise.

Amelie tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. —Bold of you to assume, Lan.—

—Oh, I’m assuming.— He ducked his head, his lips brushing against hers as the crowd roared, —Three, two, one... Happy New Year!—

Fireworks exploded overhead, the sky lighting up in bursts of gold and red and blue. But Amelie didn’t see them. She felt them instead, in the way Lando kissed her like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted. His hands roamed her back, pulling her against him as if he couldn’t get enough.

Somewhere in the crowd, phones were raised, capturing the moment, but neither of them cared. They were too lost in each other.

When they finally broke apart, Amelie rested her forehead against his, laughing softly. —You’re such a showoff.—

—Didn’t hear you complaining,— he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. His voice dropped, a little husky. —God, Ames, you’re perfect.—

Her heart twisted at the rawness in his tone. —You’re drunk.—

—Not drunk enough to not mean it,— he countered. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, his gaze locking with hers. —I love you.—

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but somehow, in this moment, it felt different. More real.

—I love you too,— she whispered.

—Say it again,— he demanded, his grin turning playful.

Amelie laughed, looping her arms around his neck. —I love you, you idiot.—

—God, I’m never letting you go,— he muttered, kissing her again.

As the fireworks died down, they stayed wrapped in each other, swaying slightly to the music. Lando’s hands were restless, sliding up and down her back as he murmured teasing, slightly inappropriate comments against her ear.

—You’re killing me in this dress, Ames. Do you even realize how good you look?—

—Stop it,— she scolded, though the smile on her face betrayed her.

—I mean it. You’re a fucking goddess.—

—And you’re a lightweight,— she teased, tapping his nose.

—Maybe. But I’m your lightweight,— he quipped, earning another laugh.

They knew people were watching, recording, maybe even speculating, but for once, they didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them talk. They were happy, and that was all that mattered.

As the night stretched on, Amelie couldn’t help but reflect on how far they’d come. From friends to something more, to heartbreak and back again. It hadn’t been easy, but standing here with Lando, his arms around her and his lips finding hers every chance he got, she knew it had been worth it.

—Happy New Year, Lan,— she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

—Happy New Year, Ames,— he replied, his voice soft but sure. —This year’s going to be ours. I can feel it.—

And for the first time in a long time, she believed him.

-------------

liked by landoismybaby, kiki.f1, and others

f1gossipgrid: Lando and Amelie via @tombale46’s Instagram story — blurry but it looks like the Dubai NYE party had a very familiar guest list 👀✨ First spotted of 2025 for our fave paddock duo? We’ll take it.

View all 9,891 comments

maxie_willdrive: blurry? yes. iconic? also yes. → lanmieluver88: @maxie_willdrive they could be 3 pixels and i'd still cry over them 😭 → lanmieluvbot: @maxie_willdrive blurry pics > no pics

oscarpiastrno1: damn even in potato quality they’re serving → ameliescurlz: @oscarpiastrino1 the ✨aura✨ is unmatched

lanmelieupdates: my toxic trait is thinking this was posted just for us

sainzsimp04: still can’t believe they’re real sometimes → kiki.f1: @sainzsimp04 it’s giving movie couple who make it to the end credits 😭

softieforlan: why is lando grabbing her like she’s gonna evaporate 😭 → chaosqu4drant: @softieforlan he knows what the Dubai boys are like 😭 protect your girl king → ameliesthighgap: @softieforlan no bc if MY man didn’t hold me like that?? I’d leave

oscarpiasty: these blurry pics got more chemistry than half the grid → maxieloverrrr: @oscarpiasty be serious rn 💀

lanmeliesgf: lando was FOR REAL whispering sweet nothings while fireworks went off 😭😭😭

stoppostingpls: they drunk in dubai again huh 💀 → chaoticlan: @stoppostingpls not again bro 😭 they can’t behave for 2 seconds

antiwagslol: can we not glorify this relationship? she’s just a singer. stay in your lane. → lanmeliesworld: @antiwagslol crying bc she’s literally more famous than half the grid 😭

tiredofthegrid: lando out here acting like he won the championship just by getting the girl 😭 → ameliesangles: @tiredofthegrid he DID. this was his driver of the day moment tbh →safeforlan: @tiredofthegrid bro he bagged her TWICE. icon behavior.

quadrantfangz: this is why he drives fast—so no one else can catch her 💅

landoismybaby: my man is in love™ and tipsy and it’s SO fun for me personally → lanmillennial: @landoismybaby i’m actually emotional can they adopt me

-------------

They barely made it back to the hotel room.

Somehow, between Lando drunkenly trying to unlock the wrong door three times and Amelie tripping over her heels while laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, they stumbled their way into the suite, giggling like teenagers who had just stolen a bottle of vodka from their parents.

—You’re the worst lockpicker I’ve ever seen,— Amelie said, collapsing backward onto the plush bed in a glittering mess of gold fabric and tangled curls.

Lando dropped the keycard onto the side table like it had personally offended him. —That lock was dodgy. I swear it moved.—

He kicked off his shoes and half-crawled, half-flopped onto the bed beside her, groaning dramatically as he landed. —I deserve a medal for getting us here in one piece. Heroic effort, really.—

Amelie turned her head toward him, her lashes fluttering as she smiled, tipsy and soft. —You almost faceplanted in the elevator.—

—Almost being the key word. I stayed upright. That’s balance, baby.— He tried to wink but ended up blinking both eyes like a confused owl.

She laughed, high and breathless, rolling onto her side to nuzzle into his chest. Her hand slid lazily beneath his shirt, fingers cool on his warm skin. —You smell like tequila and fireworks,— she murmured.

—You smell like trouble,— he murmured back, eyes closing as he pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple. His hand wandered, fumbling clumsily with the zipper on the back of her dress. —Wanna get this off you. Not even in a sexy way, just... it looks uncomfortable.—

Amelie snorted. —You trying to seduce me or perform a public service?—

—Both, obviously,— he grinned, finally managing to unzip the gold dress halfway before his hand sort of gave up and fell limply onto her hip. —God, you’re so soft. Are you made of clouds or am I just smashed?—

She was laughing so hard now she had to bury her face in the crook of his neck, her shoulders shaking. —Lan, I swear to God, we are too drunk.—

—No such thing,— he said automatically, before correcting himself. —Okay, maybe a tiny bit drunk.—

He shifted onto his side to face her, their noses brushing. Her dress had slipped slightly off one shoulder, exposing the smooth line of her collarbone. His fingers traced it in awe, but with zero coordination. Instead of a smooth touch, it was more like a toddler trying to gently pet a cat.

Amelie wriggled, shrieking with laughter. —That tickled!— She shoved at his chest, but he caught her wrist and pulled her closer, lips finding the side of her jaw in a mess of kisses that were more teeth than finesse.

—God, Ames, you’re so hot... why are you so hot? It’s illegal,— he muttered, trying to kiss down her neck and promptly missing entirely, his lips smushing into her hair instead.

She wheezed. —You just kissed my scalp.—

—Still sexy,— he argued.

They kissed then, messy and uncoordinated, their teeth knocking together twice before they gave up and just started laughing again, faces buried against each other.

—Okay, okay,— Amelie gasped, breathless, tears streaming from how hard she was laughing. —We’re not having sex right now. We’ll break a nose. Or a hip.—

—Speak for yourself, I’m in peak physical condition,— Lando slurred, attempting a flex that ended with him accidentally elbowing himself in the ribs.

She wheezed and fell back onto the bed. —Oh my god, we’re idiots.—

Lando flopped beside her again, both of them still partially clothed, breathless and tangled together in a puddle of warmth and gold sequins. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was just beginning to bleed soft pinks and oranges, the earliest signs of sunrise painting the horizon.

Amelie blinked up at the ceiling, her chest still rising and falling with post-giggle exhaustion. Lando's arm was thrown haphazardly across her stomach, his hand resting just above her belly button, thumb drawing sleepy little half-circles on her skin.

—The sun’s coming up,— she murmured, voice husky from laughter and alcohol.

Lando turned his head, squinting at the warm glow beginning to seep into the room. —Rude of it, honestly. I was just getting comfortable.—

Amelie smirked, then reached down to tug the zipper of her dress the rest of the way, wriggling out of it while still lying on her back. Lando made a sound that might’ve been a groan of admiration or just his brain short-circuiting again.

—Okay, calm down, Casanova,— she said, flinging the dress off the side of the bed. It landed with a soft whisper somewhere near the minibar. She reached for one of the fluffy hotel robes and sloppily shrugged it on, the sash dragging behind her like a drunken cape.

Lando reached out lazily, fingers pawing at her sleeve. —Where are you going?—

Amelie paused, looking over at him with a playful grin. —I'm taking a bath. Are you coming with me?—

Lando blinked slowly, still trying to process the question as his brain took a moment to catch up with his alcohol-soaked body. He sat up, his messy curls flopping around as he squinted at her.

—A bath?— he asked, his voice thick with sleep and tequila. —But we just... you know, I mean...— His gaze dropped to the bed between them, a lazy grin spreading across his face. —I’m not sure I can be trusted around water right now, Ames.—

Amelie laughed softly, her head lolling back against the pillow as she gave him a wicked smile. —Well, maybe it’ll help you sober up. Besides, I’m not entirely drunk. Just... mostly. And a bath sounds nice and relaxing, right?—

Lando looked like he was about to argue, but the idea of a warm bath, the soft light of the morning creeping in through the windows, and Amelie in that robe was far too tempting. Plus, he couldn't deny the fact that he was starting to feel like his brain was slowly returning to normal.

He grinned, finally pushing himself up from the bed with a lazy stretch. —Alright, alright. You win. But I swear to God, if I slip and drown, it's on you.—

Amelie chuckled, watching him slowly get to his feet, clearly still trying to shake off the last of the tequila haze. She gestured toward the bathroom, where the marble tub sat in the center of the room, large enough to fit the both of them comfortably. —You’re a professional driver, Lan. If anyone’s going to not drown, it’s you.—

Lando rolled his eyes dramatically, but the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips made it clear he wasn’t mad about it. —Let’s just hope the bath doesn’t decide to race me. I’m sure it’s got a few tricks up its sleeve.—

With that, they made their way into the bathroom, their steps slow and a little wobbly as they navigated the space. Lando lazily twisted the faucet, letting the water run hot, steam rising and filling the air with the smell of warm luxury. The soft light from the room cast gentle shadows on their faces, highlighting their post-party disheveledness.

Amelie stood there, watching him fumble with the taps for a moment before she suddenly reached over, pulling him into a loose hug from behind from behind, her arms wrapping around his waist as she rested her cheek against the bare skin of his back.

—You’re kind of cute like this,— she mumbled, her voice muffled against him. —Confused. Half-naked. Steaming up a bathtub like it’s rocket science.—

Lando snorted, tossing a look over his shoulder. —I’m drunk, not dead. I still have feelings.—

—Aw, feelings?— she teased, lips curving into a grin against his skin. —That tequila’s really bringing out your sensitive side.—

He turned in her arms, lazily dragging her robe sash with him as he looped it around his fingers. —You bring out my sensitive side, Ames. The tequila just gives it a microphone.—

She laughed, eyes crinkling, and leaned up to press a slow, clumsy kiss to the corner of his mouth. It missed entirely, landing somewhere on his jaw instead.

—We are not doing very well with aim tonight,— she whispered.

—Speak for yourself,— he said, trying to kiss her properly, only for their noses to bump again. He pulled back and blinked at her, serious for a second. —Okay, real talk. If I try to seduce you again and fall face-first into this tub, promise you’ll still date me.—

Amelie giggled, tugging the robe tighter around herself. —It’d probably be the most on-brand way for you to get a concussion. But yeah, I’ll still date you. Even if you have a dramatic bathtub-related downfall.—

They both laughed again, then sobered a little as Lando stepped into the rising steam and dipped his hand in the water.

—Damn, this actually feels amazing,— he said. —Like, borderline life-changing.—

—Told you,— she murmured, stepping in behind him. She let the robe drop to the floor in a whisper of white terrycloth before climbing into the tub opposite him.

The warmth instantly enveloped her, sinking into her skin and bones. She let out a sigh that sounded like her entire soul was exhaling.

Lando slid in too, groaning dramatically. —Holy shit, yes. This is better than sex.—

Amelie raised a brow, smirking at him across the water. —You really want to go on record with that? Bold move.—

—Okay, maybe not better, but like... it's in the top five.— He sank further until only his head was poking above the waterline. —Bath. Tacos. Sex. More tacos. F1 podium.—

She laughed, sliding her foot along his leg beneath the water. —Tacos beat me?—

He pretended to think. —Tacos don’t laugh when I get a cramp.—

—Once! That happened one time!— she splashed water at him, and he yelped, raising his arms to shield himself.

—This is abuse,— he whined, but he was smiling, soft and sleepy. Their laughter faded into a lull, the kind of silence that felt full rather than empty.

They sat there, letting the warmth soak through them, both still hazy with alcohol and love and the surreal stillness of morning. The city outside began to stir—faint car horns, the shifting light, the occasional echo of early birds.

Lando reached across the water, blindly fumbling until he found her hand. He laced their fingers together, wet skin slipping slightly, and sighed contentedly.

—You know,— he murmured, eyes on the ceiling, —this wasn’t how I thought the night would end. But I kind of love it more this way.—

Amelie turned her head toward him, smiling faintly. —Yeah?—

—Yeah. The sex can wait. But this? You. Me. A bath we probably don’t deserve. That laugh of yours still stuck in my head.— He glanced at her, his gaze suddenly clear despite the remnants of alcohol. —This is the stuff I’ll remember.—

She felt her chest tighten in that way it always did when he said things like that—simple, sincere, and completely unfiltered.

—I’ll remember it too,— she whispered. Then, teasing: —Even if you did kiss my scalp and call it sexy.—

Lando groaned. —We agreed not to bring that up again.—

—We did not.—

They both dissolved into quiet giggles, their hands still linked, their legs tangled under the water, and the Dubai sunrise painting them in liquid gold.

Eventually, Amelie rested her head on the edge of the tub, eyes fluttering closed. —Wake me up if I drown.—

—Only if you wake me up first,— Lando replied, already sliding lower into the water beside her.

And just like that, they let themselves drift—tipsy, tangled, and wrapped in steam and love—while the world outside continued to turn.

89 notes · View notes

motliez · 3 months ago

Text

Instagram: @Motliez

18 notes · View notes

noonical · 1 year ago

Text

𓍯 ִֶָ VANILLA BABY ...

↪ jungwon may not fully understand it, but jay is ready to gift him the world wrapped up in a bow.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ now playing: that's my name - akcent

pairing: park jongseong x yang jungwon cw: kissing, jealousy, whipped jay and enamoured jungwon, a (possibly) cheesy usage of nicknames like "kitty" I'm sorry 😭 but overall nothing really just two silly guys in love

"Baby, have we been to Dubai?"

Jungwon looks up from where he was sitting on their shared bed, in the process of folding their freshly washed and dried clothes. He wears a confused expression as he raises a brow at his boyfriend.

"You have, not me though", he says. Something in him tells Jay is not asking that for nothing and he has a inkling where the conversation is going.

Jay smiles and walks up to sit in front of him on one knee and somehow, that move gets Jungwon blushing in the cheeks. "Well, now we're going there together", he announces with sparkling eyes that hold all the love and affection he has for the younger. Jungwon splutters.

"What?! But what about your work? And what about mine?" Jay fondly chuckles at his comically widened eyes and takes Jungwon's hands in his to softly rub them, making the latter drop the clothes he has been folding. "I didn't forget about your work, love. That's why I planned my meetings to be held in Dubai after two weeks, which is when you said you'll have your ten day vacation, isn't that right?" Jungwon simply nodded, still a bit stunned at the revelation.

They've been a couple for a year and have been to two countries already, but it seems like he's still not fully used to spontaneous trips abroad. Falling in love with a man whose social status differed from his by a large scale was not something that Jungwon thought will happen at all. He was still happy, of course, and wouldn't trade his relationship with his dear Jay-hyung for anything, but he still had a hard time accepting being spoiled.

Jay must have noticed his long pause, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Jungwon-ah, if you don't want it, please just tell me so, it's okay. I'll postpone my meetings and we'll be here for your vacation, you just have to say what you want. Your wishes come before anything else", the older stood up to sit next to Jungwon and gently put his arms around the latter's waist.

Jungwon looked at his boyfriend, heart practically aching from how he was being treated - like he meant the whole world and life to this lovely man. He sniffed and wrapped his arms around the older's neck, blinking his eyes repeatedly to not bawl like a child. "Hyung, you're unbelievable...", he murmured. "Of course I'll go with you, I'm sorry if you thought I won't. It's still kind of new for me... but just know that I'll go anywhere as long as it's with you", he turned his head up to kiss Jay on the corner of his mouth, hands softly brushing along the sharp jawline as he admired the most handsome face he has ever seen. Jay grinned, face so full of glee and pure love that Jungwon couldn't resist kissing him again, this time putting his lips on his boyfriend's.

Jungwon couldn't stop his stunned gasps and "whoa's" as they were on their way to their hotel. Jay decided to book their stay in "Address Sky View", which, of course, intimidated Jungwon with its rate and overall price (even though Jay never let Jungwon pay despite the latter's resistance) at first, but quickly figured it won't be too bad. After all, he loved being pampered by his boyfriend, despite his partial guilt.

"How's Dubai?" Jay whispered lowly, lips brushing Jungwon's reddening ear. The younger was glad the partition was up in the car, otherwise the poor driver would've witnessed their shameless antics. He softly pushed the older on the chest at the bold flirting. "I've always looked at it through the screen but now... I can't believe I'm here, and it's all thanks to you", he smiled gently and pecked his boyfriend on the cheek before putting his head on the sturdy shoulder.

"I can't help but to want the best for you, Wonie, and I want you to know that I do things because I love you, not by obligation or anything else", Jay said and leaned down to kiss the younger on his temple, arm wrapped protectively around the shorter frame. "I know, hyung. I love you too... I don't know how I got so lucky with you", murmured Jungwon, his voice a silky sound surrounded by the gentle whirring of the car.

They safely arrived half an hour later, both drowsy from a late night flight. The couple decided to eat and then sleep since they didn't feel like doing anything aside from resting at the moment. As Jungwon put his head on the fluffy and rumpled pillow, and Jay made sure to properly tuck the younger in bed, he couldn't help but feel like this will last forever. With that thought, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of only the sweetest dreams.

Their first proper day in Dubai started with Jungwon waking up early and just lying down and admiring his man's divine face (which is an absolutely normal thing between them), then, after Jay had risen from sleep, they headed to get breakfast.

"How's the food, kitty?" Jay asked as he carefully wiped a tiny crumb off the younger's face, which, in turn, caused Jungwon, who was still very shy about PDA, to turn pink in the cheeks. He coughed and smiled, his endearing dimples popping out. "I like it! Very delicious and different from what we have in Korea, but in a good way", he hummed as he put down his spoon to pick up his glass filled with orange juice. Jay nodded and put some heart-shaped waffles from his plate to Jungwon's, murmuring "eat more".

After the breakfast, they thought they'd enjoy swimming in an indoors pool since it was already piping hot outside, and so here they were. Jay was completely topless, clad only in swimming trunks, while Jungwon opted for a full body swimsuit, being a person whose preference lies in non revealing clothes. The younger decided to read a book he brought for a little before diving into the water while his boyfriend jumped into the pool as soon as they arrived there.

As Jungwon sat and squirmed in his lounge chair to find a comfortable position, he was suddenly approached by a tall man. He tore his eyes off his book to look up at the stranger in surprise, and that's when he noticed the man's Asian features.

"Hey, sorry if I'm bothering, but I've heard you and your friend talking in Korean and guessed you two are my fellow countrymen", the man said with a friendly smile, and Jungwon's eyes widened. "Oh?! That's right, we're Korean! Wow, that's so cool, I wouldn't have guessed I would see a fellow Korean here.. Uh, what's your name..?" Jungwon said, filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting people from the same place as him and Jay-hyung.

"My name's Hwang Yeonseok, what about you?"

"Yang Jungwon! Nice to meet you", He smiled, eyes bright and shiny as he shook hands with Yeonseok, the man returning the excitement. Jungwon didn't notice how he started chatting with a newfound acquaintance, completely forgetting about his book, the pool and... his boyfriend.

Speaking of the said "boyfriend", Jay didn't notice them immediately, head and body under the surface for a little while until he came out eventually, eyes squeezed and hands rubbing his own face until his vision became clear again. And that's when he took saw them: his boyfriend with another man, both of them talking to each other so animatedly. Now, Jay is not a jealous and possessive man by nature - his Jungwonnie has many guy friends that he's totally not concerned about because, well, that's just weird to feel territorial over your partner when they do nothing for you to be worried about.

This time, however, something was different. Jay was not an oblivious fool and that's why he immediately took notice of the way the stranger was looking at his Jungwon, approaching the younger with a clear (at least to Jay) intent. And that's also why he swam closer to them, when he heard the man say: "By the way, you have a great body, Jungwon. It's not too buff but not too frail either", with an unknown glint in his eyes, and Jay decided to end whatever that was going on. He cleared his throat and Jungwon's head snapped in his direction, heart eyes immediately taking over his embarrassed and shy ones from the man's compliment.

"Jay hyung! Look, this is Hwang Yeonseok, he's also Korean and came here to rest just like us! And Yeonseok-ssi, this is Jay hyung, he's-"

"I'm his boyfriend", smiled Jay, trying his best to look friendly and not bare his teeth in a grimace as he emerged from the water and walked up right next to Jungwon. The latter must have noticed the tension as he took Jay's hand into his and nodded. "Yes, he's my boyfriend", he said in a breathless tone as Yeonseok opened his mouth in surprise. "O-oh, nice to meet you, Jay-ssi. Well, it looks like I have somewhere to be. It was really nice talking to you, Jungwon, see you later. You too, Jay-ssi", the man had smiled and quickly went away, leaving the two alone. Jungwon couldn't hold his giddy expression as he giggled and hugged the older.

"What's gotten into you, hyung? Ah, were you jealous? Was Jjongssaeng jealous of a complete stranger?" He playfully cooed as Jay rolled his eyes. "Yah! He literally complimented your body, isn't that just weird? You also left me in the water by myself, just to talk with another man!" Jay hissed, very obviously playing along since a smile adorned his face. Jungwon threw his head back and nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck afterwards, squeezing his eyes shut in a complete bliss.

"I was just excited to meet a new friend. You're the only man I'll ever find attractive, so don't worry okay? I love you too much to even think about how others look, hyung", he smiled and tiptoed to kiss his hyung's chiseled jawline. Jay grinned, satisfied with his answer and leaned down to kiss the younger's nose, eyes full of adoration.

"Love you too, Jungwonie, so so much."

AN: OKAYYY here goes my first ever published work 😭😭😭 jaywon makes me feel so weak, and English is not my first and not even my second language so forgive me if there are grammatical mistakes 😅 hope someone enjoys it, much love 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 OI ALSO: the title is not really related to the chapter at all, it was stuck in my head so yeah 😅

#dividers by plutism #jaywon #park jongseong #yang jungwon #jay x jungwon #enhypen ships #enhypen #enhypen bxb #🖇️ — noonical #mlm

54 notes · View notes