#so little time so little energy. I have work tomorrow goodnight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinytennisskirt · 5 months ago

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Cottage Culture

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader, Art, and Patrick have been best friends since fourth grade. Older now, the three of them spend some time at reader’s cottage and it’s a few nights of buildup, a few nights of drinking, a few nights of misplaced tension until it all unfolds in Art’s favour.

Warnings: they all flirt with each other casually (it’s part of their dynamic), casual touch, mentions of sex, mentions of physical arousal, suggestions of masturbation, smoking, drinking, lots of fluff but also a lot of suggestive material… slowburn. unedited from my notes app.

They say trios never last, but yours managed to for years. You, Art, and Patrick had been close since grade four on and were still as strong as ever. Finally, after a month of planning, the three of you pulled up to your (now deceased) grandparent’s cottage that your parents maintained. It was mid-July and the heat was at its peak with hot days and warm nights with cool wind. The plan was to spend some time up here kayaking, swimming, playing pool, paddle boarding and fishing.

You each hauled a good amount of stuff from the car and began unpacking it. Everyone was tired from the drive, there were a few words spoken but hardly any altogether which was rare for the three of you, but once things were away there was less to worry about the next day and the three of you crashed on the couch.

Patrick sighed heavily as he sat down feet on the floor, arm draping over the armrest like a rag doll. “I’m out of my mind tired,” he yawned. “Since when does driving five hours count as a lullaby?”

“I think it might have been having so much fresh air with the open windows,” you said, sitting next to Patrick, body slightly turned. Patrick shoved your head and you only grinned, leaning back against him. Art followed suit, falling over the other arm rest, his head landing perfectly in your lap. He shut his eyes. You placed your hand right on his forehead and he smiled.

“He’s dead,” Patrick said. Art opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Patrick.

“Not dead, but dead tired,” he said. “I think it was the fresh air.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been so tired after driving up here and I know we all slept well last night.” You said, resting your hand on Art’s shoulder. He placed his hand overtop yours. “But at least we know we’ll be fine tomorrow. No way I’m not falling asleep in the next twenty minutes.” You sighed. “If I can get off this couch.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Art groaned.

“Too much,” Patrick groaned just the same. You all shared a small chuckle, too tired to laugh. “Plus I can’t get up until you two do, I’m stuck here.”

“I’m never moving,” Art groaned. You smiled at his closed eyes, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

“That means I can’t move. Sorry Patty.” You shrugged. Patrick just groaned and covered his eyes and with a mighty push he unwedged himself from the couch arm and you tipped a little without someone to lean on.

“What? I’m strong,” Patrick said, flexing a little. You and open-eyed Art both grimaced at him, fighting a shared smile. “But that took the rest of my energy. I call dibs on the bedroom by the kitchen.” He said, walking away, you followed him with your head turning.

“Goodnight, Patrick!” Art called.

“Goodnight, Art!”

“Goodnight, Patrick!” You called back.

“Goodnight Y/N!” He yelled as he shut the door. There was a lot of yelling involved when these two were around. You sighed, tipping slowly so your head could rest on the arm rest opposite the one Art’s legs were draped over. You looked at him, his eyes shut again, his head still happily in your lap.

It was just you and him. They say a trio never works because there’s always a duo, but for the three of you, every duo had its purpose. From an outsiders perspective, Patrick and Art as a duo were best friends, pals, tennis freaks who shared their passion and worked together. Fire and Ice.

You and Patrick were something else. Some people would say something like you and Patrick had a love-hate relationship but it was all love and all hate all of the time. Little quips and jabs at each other, debating things all of the time.

And from an outsiders perspective there was no way Art wasn’t completely in love with you. There just wasn’t a chance that he wasn’t. Nobody ever looked at you and Art and thought first that you were only friends. You didn’t act like friends much. You were usually touching in some form but it was like that with Patrick too, but admittedly not as much.

You stayed still a while and you were pretty sure that Art had fallen asleep on your lap. “Art,” you whispered. Nothing. He was asleep. You wondered if you ever looked so peaceful when you slept. You felt terrible leaving him there but you were nifty in replacing your thighs for a pillow, not even making him stir in the slightest. You grabbed him a blanket, covered him up and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.” You whispered, heading to your room. You flopped down on the pillow and it was lights out.

Falling asleep at nine thirty had the perks of helping you wake up early. You woke up quietly, still in the clothes from the day before so you changed into your jean shorts and a big t-shirt, brushed your hair and did a little bit of makeup- cottage style because you didn’t need much out here.

The boys liked to sleep in, so you knew they’d be up a little after you, given the time they all fell asleep. You got up and walked past Art, still fast asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. You quietly started on breakfast, chopping peppers, cutting pre-sliced ham, cracking eggs into a pan. He was far enough away that it wasn’t too loud and he stirred on his own. You heard him get up and turned to face him.

He cracked his neck as he stood up and walked wordlessly over to you cooking your omelets. He yawned before he spoke, stretching his arms up into the air, a peek of the v in his waist and happy trail just barely showing. He dropped his arms to his side. “Good morning,” he said, yawning again. He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, trailing it over to your other shoulder as he opened the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Good morning,” you replied as he grabbed two cups and poured the juice into both. He slid one over to where you were cooking. “Thank youuuu.” You smiled. He kissed your shoulder and slid past again.

Patrick opened the door of his bedroom, “I smell food.” He said. It wasn’t like him to say good morning anyway. His eyes panned to the stove, then you.” Oh hey housewife.” Patrick said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the cup of orange juice Art had poured you. Art took a seat at the table just behind where you were cooking.

“Hey househusband,” you said, giving Patrick your spatula, swapping it out for the juice and taking a seat next to Art. “Oh you don’t like cooking? Too bad.” You said.

Patrick fake-sneered at you before smiling and finishing up the eggs. You looked at Art and clinked your cups of orange juice together. Art cleared his throat, “I think we should play scrabble and head down for a swim after breakfast. Thoughts?”

“What about snakes and ladders instead?” You pitched, Art’s eyes widened and he grinned a yes.

“Sounds good,” Patrick agreed. “Though you know I’ll kick both of your asses. I’m really good at snakes and ladders.”

Art chuckled, “You can’t be good at snakes and ladders, buddy. It’s a dice game.”

“What can I say?” Patrick said, swinging the spatula around. “I’m good with dice.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at Patrick. He stuck out his tongue right back at you and you turned, tongue still out to Art, who tried to nab it, but was too slow.

Breakfast was good, the morning into afternoon plans set. Patrick, of course, came last in snakes and ladders. You all went and changed into your swimsuits when things had digested. You brought a book and a towel down to the little beach of the cottage but you knew you wouldn’t be reading it. You took pride in being faster than the boys because you did get to sit in your coverup for about five minutes, just you and the water and the roar of boats on the lake. Your grandparents owned a boat but you’d take it out later, probably.

The boys didn’t just come down to the beach, they came rolling. Patrick shoved Art right into the shallows, splashing you and your coverup. Time to yourself was over, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an ass!” Art called from a few feet in. Shirt off, blonde curls soaked down. He slicked his hair back. “I’ll get you back for that, I swear to god.”

“From there?” Patrick laughed from the boat dock. “You’re going to get me from down there?”

“No, but I will,” you said, shoving Patrick into the water from behind. He fell from the dock and right into the shallows, splashing Art. You and Art couldn’t contain your laughter watching Patrick blow water from his nose.

“It burns,” he said, chuckling and wiping water from his eyes. You and Art kept laughing like you were mad. You, planning on jumping in, dropping your coverup on the dry deck and you kept laughing, but neither of the boys did. You didn’t notice, though.

They, however, noticed you. Being friends for so long, they knew what you looked like, but they were still boys. You in a bikini was a treasure neither of them could pass up on for themselves. If anyone asked yeah they’d deny it, but they both thought you were quite hot from time to time…. Art, more so.

Patrick nudged Art twice in the arm as they both, open-mouthed watched you walk to the end of the dock into the deeper area. Neither of them took their eyes off you, Patrick grabbing Art’s arm for some form of support like ‘you’re seeing this too’ for the new bikini moment.

Art was seeing it for sure. The bikini. You. He was seeing you for sure… You turned at the end of the dock and both boys had to pretend like they weren’t staring. “Are you coming?” You called. Both boys snapped into it and started swimming as you jumped in, splashing them both.

You surfaced and it turned into a full blown splash fight, all of you treading and swimming around trying to avoid each other swimming underwater. You went a little more shallow where you could all touch and it was worse then, gaining the ability to dodge better, stand and fall.

Wordlessly, Art and Patrick called a truce and both turned on you, Art holding you like a shield as Patrick used all the force of his arms to splash you. Art let go a little early so you wouldn’t feel how he was feeling about so much of your skin against his. He couldn’t help it- it was you

“Okay! Okay, please! Truce!” You yelled above the sound of churned water, spitting lake water from your mouth. You held your hands in front of you and wiped the water from your face, moving your wet hair from your face. Patrick obliged, his arms were tired. You started laughing, finally able to breathe, standing up in the water, your bikini in full view again, you in full view. “Oh my god, you’re ruthless.” You sighed, hands on your hips.

“Only what’s deserved for that stunt on the dock,” Patrick retorted, stepping forward and tapping you under your chin. He was in your face, you stuck your tongue out and got his nose. Patrick lunged for you but you leapt back into the water to escape, back toward Art who was quietly hyper-fixated on how your the sides of your bathing suit were only tied in a bow…

You swam around behind Art and wrapped your arms around his neck, wet skin on wet skin. “You have to save me,” you giggled in his ear and he was glad you were behind him instead of in front. Instead, Art just tilted himself backwards, dunking you under the water.

After an hour of swimming, you were all sitting in the wooden lawn chairs near the beach, surrounding the fire pit. Patrick and Art were engaged in some conversation about their last tennis game and you got to lay in the sun, eyes shut, body stretched out.

Patrick kept his voice low, “You see the bows on the side?”

Art’s eyes widened, “Yes! Yes I saw them.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you ever forget what she looks like?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I usually see her the same way I did when we were in grade four, but sometimes I wonder about it and you have to admit, she-“

“Looks great. Yeah.” Art agreed, glancing over at you sunbathing.

“How many boners do you have left, goddamn,” Patrick teased Art, shoving him a little from his chair. Art just laughed.

Come dinner, you changed out of your bathing suits and into comfier clothes. You sat around the fire and roasted hot dogs. Patrick ate an entire pack shamelessly and you and Art each had two. You debated zombie apocalypse survival tactics and you and Patrick were getting a bit heated and you both ended up standing up. Art just watched, leaned back in his chair. You were passionate.

You huffed when Patrick won the debate, not listening to your side of reason and you decided it was better to just sit on Art’s lap. He didn’t expect it, but it was somewhat normal. You had your legs sideways over the chair and you in your shorts was sitting on him. Naturally, one hand of his went against your back and the other rested on top of your thighs. He was praying to god you couldn’t feel the seventh boner of the day. “Realistically, don’t you think the apocalypse would die down? They’re rotting people, they’d probably decompose anyways. Your theory sucks.” You said, finalizing the argument.

Art nodded, shrugging. “I think she’s right.” He nodded.

“You’re dick-riding,” Patrick told Art. “Tell me it wouldn’t be cool to have a bunker anyway.”

“It would be cool to have a bunker,” Art reasoned with you, looking up at you from under you.

“It would be cool, but necessary? Probably not.” You said. “Plus it’s not about being cool, it’s about being alive.”

Patrick shook his head, “I think being cool and alive are both important.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. The crickets chirped and the sun set and you stayed out there until the mosquitos became too much. Patrick put the fire out and you all headed up for another few board games and rounds of crazy 8’s until you were yawning.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” You passed by Art, kissing him on the top of the head and by Patrick, roughing up his hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Art said, following you with his eyes as you slipped into the far bedroom. Patrick echoed the goodnight. Art put his head in his hands immediately. “She’s insane.”

“I was going to say-“ Patrick said, voice down. “That lap move was crazy. You in your swim trunks too, man that has to be hard.” He chuckled at the double entendre. “I would be too.”

“It was so bad,” Art groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just pretending she felt nothing.”

Patrick grinned and slapped him on the back, “I would too, buddy. I would too. Good luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Art said. Patrick stood up and turned a few of the lights out. “You heading to bed?”

Patrick grinned, his dimple crawling up his face. “Ehh… something like that.” He winked and said goodnight, shutting the door to his room. Art wondered if he should do the same, considering. He chose against and just went to bed… hard again.

You woke up first again. The morning was chilly and the clouds covered the morning sun. You had packed a sweater but it was thin and you still shivered in it as you made up the pancake batter. You swore Patrick slept in just to be off of cooking duty…

You shivered over the stove, but Art’s big Stanford sweater was draped over the back of the couch. God, you were so glad. You pulled off the thin one and put on the big sweater with your comfortable leggings. It was much better. Your hair was still messed and wavy from the lake water, but you’d managed to clip it up again before pouring the batter into the pan. Like clockwork, Art was up.

He did a double take when he saw what you were wearing. He didn’t mind, but he had to admit he liked that you were wearing it. It smelled like him, you noted. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hair a mess of blonde curls, perfect bedhead. You hated how boys could just wake up gorgeous, it wasn’t fair. “How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Like a baby,” you replied. “You?”

“I don’t even think I rolled over once,” he said, smiling. He started to set three plates on the table along with the cutlery. “My sweater?” He teased, tugging at it as he went by.

You grinned, “Yes I stole it, but it’s freezing this morning. I needed it.”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he shrugged. “Looks better on you than me.”

You played the pancakes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Keep it if you want, honestly. Lend it to me now and again, but you can have it.”

Patrick opened the door to his room, yawning. “This is why you’re my favourite,” you spoke up, eyeing him in his doorframe, loud enough so Patrick could hear. Art laughed watching Patrick’s expression change.

“I thought I was your favourite,” Patrick said, arms up in the air in mock-disbelief. “You just go around telling every guy that?”

You tossed Patrick a pancake like a frisbee which he caught. “Nice try. It’s only Art.”

“Is it?” Art said, grabbing the syrup. He looked you in the eyes, pretending to judge. “I’m okay with Patrick and I being sisterwives. We’ve been sisterwives before.”

“Y/N and I are the only sisterwives here,” Patrick said, mouth full of pancake. “Both married to you apparently. So are we day drinking today or what?” He sat at the table.

You laughed, extending your legs so your calfs rested on Art’s lap like a human footrest. You and Art chuckled, “I think that’s something for tomorrow.” Art said. “I want to take the boat out.”

“And you don’t want hard lemonade on a boat?” Patrick gasped, leaning in and putting both hands on the table. “Boring!”

“Okay, maybe,” you nodded. “But we have to have one night dedicated to being drunk that’s why I brought what I did.” You grinned. “Gotta save the supply.”

“Good plan,” Art agreed.

A day spent on the boat was fun. It was a lot of laughter and card games and maybe a hard lemonade or two. You wore a one-piece this time that had shorts built in so it was a little easier for Art and Patrick. Patrick wasn’t afraid of any seaweed and jumped right into a patch and Art found it cute how you could barely look down at the water in the seaweed patch. Seaweed grossed you out.

You and Art sat thigh to thigh almost the whole time aside from when you’d gotten up to twirl a bit to the music on the boat’s radio. He watched you in your bucket hat and sunglasses sway and spin and you were so gorgeous…

Sunset burned red in the sky and you headed back, having spent the whole day either in the shade or the sun on the boat. You were tired, more tired than either of the boys, you leaned against Art in the driver’s bench of the boat as he steered the boat back to the dock. He was acutely aware of your eyelashes as when you blinked with your face smushed against his arm he could just feel it. It was sweet. Patrick anchored the boat and Art scooped you up no problem from where you sat.

“I’m not that tired,” you complained, but you secretly liked it. Patrick smacked you in the foot that was raised in the air from the way Art had you. “Hey, stop it!” You called. Patrick stole you right out of Art’s arms and your tiredness faded for a moment as you fought him- Patrick nearly fell in the water. “God you’re such a freak!” You called out as Patrick hopped up the steps to the cottage. “Art, help!” You called out.

Art just grinned and followed. Patrick did set you down and you went and showered the day off in the shitty little cottage bathroom. You came back out after your shower in just your shorts and Art’s sweater. He could tell you didn’t have a bra on. It was cute.

He took his turn to shower, leaving Patrick with the cold water shamelessly. He complained, but it was funny. You and Art laid on the couch, this time your head rested on his leg. Art gently traced the brighter bits in your hair, just the pieces that shined a little extra while wet, with a gentle finger. You were tired. Art pulled your hair back from out of your face, “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” All your dancing and swimming and boating and sun just about wiped you out. This time, Patrick in the shower, nothing stopped Art from picking you up and taking you to the room you’d claimed. He awkwardly but surprisingly was able to move the blankets back with his foot and he set you down gently on the sheets, making sure your pillow was under your head. You were hardly awake, the way you were so completely and utterly exhausted. He moved your hair from your face just once more and pulled the blanket over you, but as he got up from the edge of your bed you stopped him.

“Just one more minute,” you said. It didn’t make much sense, one more minute of what? But how could he say no?

He left when you were fully asleep and intended on going to bed himself but Patrick challenged him to a game of cards and he obliged. Patrick grabbed Art’s knee. “You’re looking at her way too much, man.”

“Uh huh and you don’t? I see you stare just as much as I do,” Art smirked, playing his good cards. “She’s pretty, it’s hard to see past that.”

“A little too pretty. I wish I brought a porno just so I can remember that she’s not actually all that.” He didn’t mean it in a mean way, he meant it as in you weren’t the only girl in the world. He said it, but it was part of the loving insults he liked to throw out.

“Mmm,” Art nodded. “We should head into town tomorrow for some cigarettes.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, squeezing Art’s knee and grinning wide. “I need that and a few shots at the local bar and the sight of a woman. ’m sure Y/N would like a few hours to sunbathe.”

Art grinned too, “Yeah, I think so.”

And the next day rolled around just the same. The boys explained their plan and you were more than on board with a few hours to yourself. They headed out and you went down to the beach to sit under your umbrella and read.

Patrick grabbed Art’s leg in the car as they pulled up to the local bar. “I don’t even care who I see, I just need to remind myself there are other women in the world.” Patrick jogged in and Art decided to wander to the nearby convenience to pick up some cigarettes. He grabbed those and some red liquorice, knowing it’s one of your favourites. He also grabbed some more matches and a lighter just in case, paying for it all and walking back to the car. Patrick stood outside it, looking a little sulked.

“Not a single woman in there. I give up. Had two shots though,” he grinned. Art held up the cigarettes and Patrick brightened right up. They shared one and got back in the car for the trip back.

You went swimming again, so you showered in your bikini and were walking around in it when the boys came back. Your coverup draped and tied around your waist. You had a plum in one hand, your book in the other and you were visible at the side of the house where the boys had parked the car. The two of them were coming out of the car when they both laid eyes on you at the same time, both instinctively putting their arms out to stop each other in their tracks. Patrick’s arm across Art’s chest and Art’s arm across Patrick’s.

Their arms dropped simutaneously. “Fuck.” Patrick said.

Art nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

You didn’t notice them until they walked in, Art holding the new lighter, cigarettes and some red liquorice. You grinned. “That was fast. You were gone, what? Two hours?”

Both boys were a little dazed. You put your book down, wiping your lower lip of the juice from the plum, but it was on your chin, dropped onto your chest. They both just watched you, mouthes a little open. You looked down, confused. Immediately both boys went separate ways.

You shrugged, tossing the pit of your plum out the window and into the garden.

Dinner was nice, by the fire again. You’d broken out the hard lemonades again and vodka and orange soda. Unfortunately for Art and Patrick, you’d stayed in your bikini and skirt-like cover up. It was hard to not be.

Patrick shook his head, “At what age did you guys start finding girls attractive?” He questioned, raising his can in question.

“Twelve,” you replied faster than Art did. Art and Patrick raised their eyebrows.

“Uh… Twelve, yeah,” Art agreed, taking a sip of his drink, eyes on you. You just smiled.

You finished your drink, “I think that’s around when Patrick taught you that neat little lesson.” You teased, reaching over and rubbing Art’s shoulder.

His head fell into his empty hand, “Please, no. Not that.” He groaned, but he was smiling.

“Teach a man to fish,” Patrick said, trailing off and cracking you another can, exchanging it for your empty one. “You can never say I’m good for nothing on that one, Art.”

“Okay, well who was doing it first?” Art questioned Patrick, tossing a stick he’d been fidgeting with.

“Me, I just knew from an early age,” he grinned. “I’m curious though, when did that happen for you?” He asked you, shifting a little in his seat and grinning directly at Art, who shifted just the same.

You bit your lip thinking, “I think around thirteen, maybe. The shower head.” You grinned. Art hid his face. “I was a little bit creative.”

“Does that even count?” Patrick said. “If you’re not putting in the work yourself.”

“I think so,” you replied. “That followed soon enough after.”

Art adjusted himself again. Patrick was watching him squirm, teasing indirectly. He knew the effect this conversation would have on him. You brought it up anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

“First kiss at sixteen,” you sighed. “Was not fun.”

Art turned to you, “I thought it was fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Bella James. Then I kissed a guy for the first time about a few months later.”

“I forgot about that,” Patrick said, huge smirk on his face. “I still have that photo of you and Bella somewhere in my room.”

“Shut up, you do not,” you gasped, grabbing the arm of the lawn chair. “Art-“

“He’s seen it,” Patrick nodded.

“It’s true.” Art cringed. “Hot, though.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah,” Art smiled over at you. You rolled your eyes at both of them, standing up. “Where are you going?”

You shook your head, “To get my watermelon vodka.” You stated. “I need something stronger.”

Both boys watched you go up the steps to the cottage, shamelessly. The second you were inside, Patrick moved from his chair over to Art. “That was too good.”

“It was not,” Art groaned. “She’s too much.”

“It’s not just me, then,” Patrick said, leaning into Art, crouched next to him in the chair. “I should have picked up a magazine when we were out earlier.”

You returned down the steps and Patrick returned to his chair. You’d changed back into Art’s sweater and a skort. You had a shot on your way down the steps and sat right back in Art’s lap like the day before.

Patrick laughed out loud and clapped but Art death stared him into silence. You three drank until it was hard not to laugh at simple things and Patrick and you got back into another debate about which flavour of sour patch kid is best. Art sided with you because nothing beat the blue one.

You were standing up, thank god Art could fix where his dick was in his boxers while you yelled at Patrick over the orange sour patch kids. Art just leaned onto his hand, watching you, watching Patrick. It was the stupidest thing.

Patrick got in your face as per usual and you stared right back. His intimidation would never work on you. “Orange tastes like ass,” Patrick said, voice lowered now.

“And you’d know, bottom-feeder,” you chuckled with a smirk, getting closer to Patrick’s face. Art grinned. You were so perfect.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking down at you with the heat of the debate in his expression. “At least I actually get ass and don’t just have one.”

You laughed, “That’s supposed to offend me? That’s a compliment, Patrick. A good attempt, though.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nobody said it was nice.”

“Art will testify,” you said, nodding back at Art. His eyes widened. “Tell Patrick it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Art obliged.

You turned back to Patrick, “See?”

“You made him say it,” Patrick shrugged, tapping the side of his own nose. “If he meant it he’d say it for himself.”

“I hear what you say about me behind closed doors, Patrick, and I think you do think it’s nice.” You taunted him. Patrick’s smirk only grew bigger and he tapped you under the chin again. Art sat up. Heard them? That wasn’t good…

Patrick, half-lidded, looked at you like a meal. Art, who was adjusted well enough, got a handle on your hips and pulled you back away from him and back onto his lap. You thought nothing of it, just getting comfortable back on Art’s lap like it was the simplest thing on earth. Your arm around him you played with the curls at the back of his head. The debate was over, it had gone a little too far.

Patrick, hard, sat back in his chair and mumbled, “I still think orange is the worst out of all of them.”

“Dead wrong,” you mumbled as well.

Art huffed, his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing up and down your skin. You looked him in the eyes, a bit of a pout to your lips. Art wondered if you’d heard what he had said about you, wishing maybe he’d phrased things better, wondering if they bothered you. He stared back, looking at how the flickering flames danced across your face.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much.” Rare words from Patrick, but it was a debate you both lost this time and maybe it was a little discouraging. Patrick was a big drinker so of course he stumbled up those steps. “See you guys tomorrow.” He said.

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Goodnight,” you spoke, attention back on Art. You and Patrick were a few drinks deeper than Art, it’s why the debate was a little much. You looked back at Art, your hand still playing with his curls, twirling them, pushing his hair behind his ear. One of his hands rested on the back of your arm, thumb still rubbing over your soft skin and the other hand resting on your knee, doing the very same. “You’re quiet.” You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair gently.

“You’re drunk,” Art replied with a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“Mhm, what about?” You asked, eyes still locked on his. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bright and matching his small, sweet smile.

He looked at you, over you, softly. “Just you.” He replied.

“What about me?” You prodded, hand still gently twirling his curls.

“You’re pretty,” Art told you. You grinned and pressed one hand over half of your face shyly. “And I think I like you a lot more than I knew... Or would admit.” He admit slowly, but he grinned.

You grinned right back, but you shook your head a little, “I hate that I’ll forget this. You have to tell me again tomorrow so I remember.”

He laughed, “I will, I will.” He didn't want to- he didn't know if he could. And he looked at your perfect lips in the orange glow. He could have kissed you, but he would have hated for you to forget it. Your lips pulled with that same smile and Art patted your leg twice. For now, I think we should get you some water.”

“Do you really think my ass is nice?” You asked him, climbing off of his lap. “Just since we’re on the topic, I mean.” Art nodded and it seemed to be the right answer. He put out the fire and helped you upstairs. After a glass of water, you thanked him at the door of your bedroom. “Goodnight, Art.” You said. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went perfectly around your torso and he squeezed you tight. You kissed his cheek to say a final goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Art told you. He went to bed after that.

Art and Patrick had a moment alone the next day. They knew you were out of earshot for sure this time, watching you down by the beach, pulling out the kayaks.

“I’d have her babies,” Patrick said, looking at you. “Please tell me something good happened after I came up here and passed out.”

Art couldn’t tell Patrick what he’d said last night. “Mmm no. We only talked a minute and came back up here. You guys need to chill out on the debate stuff, that’s all I know.”

“Oh you wish you were in on all that. She’s in my face, Art, you saw it. It’s so easy to rile her up, you should try it.”

Art shrugged, “Maybe, yeah, but come on, she said she heard what you said about her behind closed doors. We can’t be objectifying her just because she’s the only girl around.” He said.

Patrick twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, I thought she liked it.”

“Maybe, but I mean… can’t be too safe.” Art shrugged again. “I just don’t want her uncomfortable. Not with us.”

“She couldn’t be, come on. It’s us. She’s used to it by now I’m sure.”

“Just ease up,” Art said. “Make sure she’s far out of earshot otherwise.” They were both men, they knew how they acted when a woman was hot, but Art was a little too worried.

The day passed and it was good. More swimming, more eating. Patrick ate four burgers, buns and all like it was nothing. You had an afternoon nap on the couch, Art falling asleep with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your legs. Patrick chuckled to himself as he passed it- it was a sight for sure.

Dinner was simple, then it was over. Art wondered if you remembered what he’d said. He guessed not, taking your drunken word that you hadn’t remembered. You were in the kitchen talking to Patrick about your watermelon vodka and he was leaned against the marble, face close to yours. Maybe it bothered Art how close he was to you. It wasn’t anything new, Patrick liked to lean into whoever he was talking to.

Art had to remind himself you hadn’t said anything to him last night after he said what he said. He usually watched you and Patrick talk because it was funny, but this time something in Art’s chest tightened.

Maybe it was the fact you were the only girl around, he thought. It wasn’t though. Art has liked you for years upon years without admitting it to anyone, hardly to himself. You were just best friends, that’s how things were. Yeah, he thought about kissing you. Yeah, he wondered what you’d look like under him. But he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t the fact you were the only girl but rather the fact you were the only girl. If that made any sense.

Art walked over, standing beside you. You instinctively put your arm around his waist and leaned against him like a pole and it brought some ease to Art’s moment of jealousy as he draped his arm around your shoulder. Patrick and Art locked eyes and with a furrow of his brow, Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So are we drinking again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, handing him the bottle. “Art?”

“Sure, yeah,” Art nodded, looking at you. He liked the way your hand rested on the opposite side of him, around his torso. “Let’s not start debates tonight though, mkay?”

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “What was last night’s?”

“Sour patch kids,” Patrick said, opening the vodka and taking a swig. He passed the bottle to Art, who did the same. “That’s so good, what.”

Art nodded, “That is good.” He passed you the bottle, but you only had a sip. You weren’t looking to not remember the night again. Plus waking up in the morning was hard enough. “Not drinking?”

“Not much,” you nodded.

“That’s okay,” Art nodded back.

The night went forward and the boys were getting drunk and you only the slightest bit tipsy. Part of you knew that both of them drunk meant babysitting so they didn’t try and reach for the boat keys and die.

You sat on the coach the drunk boys had dragged outside and only the back porch of the cottage- you stopped them from bringing it down the stairs. Patrick sat next to you pulling you in and messing up your hair. “Hey- come on,” you laughed. It was impossible to mess up a boy’s hair, especially when it was curly. “That’s not fair.”

“Alls fair in love and war,” Patrick replied.

You laughed harder, “Where did you hear that?” It was so weird to hear from Patrick’s mouth. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird?” Patrick said, letting you go but keeping you close. His hand fell to your thigh. “If anyone here is weird it’s you.”

“Uh huh?” You smiled. “Me? Not you who decides to bring a couch outside? Not you who ate an entire pack of hot dogs after saying you weren’t hungry?” You smiled and twisted into sitting on your knees, facing him.

Art came back from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, opening them to see you and Patrick the way you were. He was drunk, more so than the night before and that was a bit much. Patrick did the thing he’d done forever, tapping you under your chin, but your faces were so close…

“You have so many freckles,” you observed. “You can hardly see them if you don’t look.”

“You’re really ugly up close,” Patrick retorted and you hit him upside the head playfully. Art stood by the screen doorway. “Okay, I’m sorry! You’re really pretty!”

“Oh you think I’m pretty?” You questioned as if it was something to challenge. Patrick, half-lidded tapped under your chin again. Art felt sick. If there was something to be jealous about it’s that you would probably remember Patrick calling you pretty, not Art.

“Maybe,” Patrick leaned closer and he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t, not yet. Art swallowed hard. Your faces were inches from each other’s. Even through the alcohol Art felt the twinges in his chest and stomach.

“Patrick,” you started, slowly backing away. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe to that too,” he shrugged. You backed away more. Art couldn’t do it, he opened the door and stepped out back onto the porch. You turned your head and grinned at his reproach. Art didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the vodka and took what looked like a painful two gulps.

“Oh-“ you started, but Art wiped his lip and sat back down on the couch next to you and you rearranged the way you sat immediately to be closer to Art. Art didn’t even look at Patrick, instead, he just pulled you onto his lap. This time, it wasn’t of your own volition. You didn’t think anything of it. Patrick just used the extra space on the couch for his feet.

The conversation was fine. Civil with a lot of laughter, Art could get into it but the extra vodka he’d had was being pumped around his bloodstream without a doubt. Instead of his hand resting on your upper knee, it rested on your thigh and his thumb grazed back and forth like it did the night before. He was lucky to have a moment to adjust himself because even with the amount of alcohol he’d had, his body still held enough attraction. You were smiling, so beautiful, Art thought.

Patrick knew he’d fucked up but the alcohol helped to make him not worry about it too much. You pat Art on the cheek, “You and Patrick have kissed, right?” You asked out of the blue. The two looked at each other.

“Uh- hm- yeah,” Art said, clearing his throat, looking at Patrick.

You smiled, finishing a can of point five alcohol. “Okay so I have a question. Would you guys call each other a good kisser?”

Art and Patrick shared another look and you just giggled. They both didn’t know what to say- Patrick shrugged and Art opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Both boys went through a few stages in a matter of seconds and Patrick let out a strangled sort of, “Yes?”

“Yes?” You gasped, turning to look at Art.

“Sure?” Art shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really… remember. It was two years ago.” He slightly slurred.

Patrick agreed. “It was a while back.” You giggled again, Patrick shrugged. “I mean, you’ve kissed Art for fun, you’d know if he is or not.”

You gasped a little, “Oh that’s right! The spin the bottle in senior year, I totally forgot about that!” You turned back to Patrick, “It was only a peck, though. Just a quick kiss.”

Art hadn’t forgotten it. Today he was thinking that would be the only time he got to kiss you. He stared at your lips now, their colour perfect, so soft, he was a little dazed. You and Patrick talked about how you only joked about being sisterwives, but it was more true than you remembered. Art just stared, his hands moving over your hips and wrapping around your waist, looking up at you. God, you were so perfect and he was very drunk.

He felt oddly at ease with how you’d been with Patrick earlier. You’d refused him, backing away when he got closer and Art could be happy with that. You didn’t mind Art’s hands around your waist. At first it was positioned like a hug around the waist but now it was just hands, his grip. The curve of your waist was so perfect, you were so perfectly structured. His finger slid across the hem of your shirt and touched a sliver of your skin and you were so soft, too soft. Art, sweet, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he felt, fixed your shirt so that he couldn’t feel your skin anymore. You bent from where you sat and kissed the top of his head.

There was a shared cigarette amongst friends and you got up from Art’s lap and trailed your hand across his cheek as you went inside to get your sweater on. His sweater. It was the first moment Art and Patrick were alone since the morning.

“You like her,” Patrick said, taking a drag off the near-end of the cigarette and handing it over to Art. Art, dazed, drunk, nic-buzzed, just nodded. “Thought so.”

Art inhaled, exhaling the smoke and passing it back, “Might just.” He said, a bit slurred, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m so fucked, hm?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Patrick chuckled, leaning forward and ruffling Art’s hair. Art flushed a bit, turning just the slightest bit pink. It was a sort of unspoken apology for getting so close to you, is what that action meant.

“This sucks,” Art mumbled. He admit it, somewhat, out in the open for the first time. Art closed his eyes and the world spun around him and he flopped backward on the couch. Your hands are what woke him- he’d passed right out, so tired.

You pat him on the cheek, “Hey, let’s get you some water and to bed.” You said. Patrick helped Art to his feet and he leaned against him walking into the house. “That was a lot of vodka.” You said, giving him water. You held it with him just in case he dropped it. You made him drink the whole cup.

“Mmmhhm,” Art smiled. You were so pretty, so sweet, so caring. “You know you’re a remarkably beautiful woman.” He said, slurring. He said it very matter-of-factly. You chuckled at his choice of words.

“Thank you, lovely,” you smiled, helping him to bed.

“Goodnight drunk Art,” He heard Patrick like an echo. Patrick left the room. He didn’t say goodnight back. He was focused on the lovely part.

Art took his shirt off, throwing it across the room and immediately fell limp on his pillow again, you’d stayed. You put your hand on his chest and he grabbed it. The last thing he remembered was saying, “I’m so fucked.” Before it was suddenly morning.

Art groaned and rolled out of bed, not even caring that he rolled onto the carpet on the floor. He just picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, leaving the bedroom. No headache, just super groggy.

He opened the bedroom door and you and Patrick were sitting opposite sides of the coffee table, different couches. It had been moved back at some point. Art was a little relieved to see how far apart you were. He remembered most of last night, to his dismay. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, getting up. “How are you feeling?”

Art was so glad he had hit or miss hangovers. “Gross, but fine.” He replied. You walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot, making it exactly how he liked it. You put it in his hands, “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Of course,” you smiled back. You both went to sit on the couch and the conversation about the day included plans of swimming and going back out on the boat once Art was feeling better.

The day was good, warm. The same as any. Art felt better about noon. You were on the boat yelling lyrics to an Avril Lavigne song and Patrick was unabashedly singing along. Art felt so much better, clapping when you shoved Patrick right off the boat at the chorus. You raised your hands above your head triumphantly and jumped a few times.

Art, of course, helped Patrick get back onto the boat, only to get pulled into the water. You couldn’t stop laughing but it was only a matter of time before both boys manage to wrangle you into the water with them, Patrick throwing seaweed at you as you screamed. You clung onto Art in the water as if he was a stable point. Your eyes met, eyelashes wet and you fought your smile as best you could.

Dinner was hot dogs again by the fire and it was followed by s’mores. All day you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of the way Art had held your waist last night. You knew he was out of it, he called you ‘remarkably beautiful’, but in every moment you had to yourself you were trying to relive the feeling, almost like the ghost of his hands were still there. You thought about when his hand slipped under the bottom of your shirt and touched your bare skin…

Patrick snapped in your face. “Earth to Y/N. I’m beat, I’m heading up to bed early tonight if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You said. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Night guys!” Patrick went upstairs and turned the lights out. That left you and Art down by the fire alone.

You stood up, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Another night in Art’s sweater and your shorts. “You coming?” You asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

You shrugged, “With me.” And you smiled just a little, walking down the dock. The moon reflecting off the lake was the brightest light around. It was warm, yellow, nearly. Warm July moonlight, chopping itself up in the gentle waves. Art followed you, why wouldn’t he? “I don’t think I want to go back to the city after this.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the dock. Art sat next to you.

“Me neither,” he chuckled, moving some hair from your face. “Patrick might go stir crazy, though, so if you planned on keeping us with you, don’t.”

You grinned, letting him tuck the hair behind your ear in the soft wind. He stayed focused on every move of your features, the way your eyelashes moved when you looked up, then down, then back at him. “You think you’d miss tennis?”

“I probably would eventually,” he said. “But this week, no. I don’t miss it. It’s good to be away from training and practicing and all the pressure and just be with friends.”

You nodded, “I understand. It’s been good to get away from things. Reminds me of when we would spend the summers in the forest, before tennis, before work, before school. All that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think Patrick misses that a lot. He lives in the past a lot, thinking about when things were ‘better’. I mean he doesn’t do much aside from tennis at all so I get it, but he’s very hung up on it. Misses it.”

“You don’t miss it?”

He met your eyes, “I do miss it. But like in a fond way, not in the way where I wish I was still there.” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy thinking about how I looked when we were running around those forests.”

“Braces and buzzcut,” you smiled. “I remember.”

“You shouldn’t,” Art laughed. “How could I forget about the three tank tops you layered on top of each other?”

“Fashion statement versus buzzcut…” you hummed, teasing, leaning your head into his shoulder and rocking back. “I miss it.”

He looked at you with everything he thought about you resting on his tongue. You, here, moonlit in the night, so perfect. He smiled, only the simplest, most fond things filled his mind. You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew. “What’s on your mind?” You asked.

Art took a moment to answer. He was too sober to tell you, you were too sober to tell. It was you, just as it was the other night. You on his mind- his best friend, one of his closest friends, keeper of his boyish secrets, one of two people in this world who could read his mind. He wondered if you could read his mind right now as his heart beat hard in his chest over the question. You could, but he kept wondering.

You took his sweater off and underneath was only your bikini top. You stood up from where you sat and rid yourself of your shorts as well. Art was confused until you jumped into the water. Gracefully, easily. It was dark aside from the moon and nearby fire and for a second or two you were gone, but you resurfaced, hair wet. “You coming?” You asked again, the other question postponed. Art smiled and took off his shirt, already in his trunks, and jumped in after you.

You were in the middle, so you were both just up to your waists. You cupped water in your hands and poured it right over his head. You were so cute… he slicked his hair back and grinned his crooked grin. It was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Mhm?” Art said, wiping water from his eyes. “That’s how it is?”

“Mhm,” you replied. It was only a matter of seconds before he grabbed you and took the both of you underwater. You came up laughing and wiping your eyes. “Really?”!you said, lunging forward at him in the water- the intention was to do the same to him, but you really just wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped, dead in your tracks.

The pause was only seconds, a full action became a full stop, his eyes met yours, and not even a second later, your lips met. You kissed him, he kissed you, mutually, with the same force. Your hands moving from around his neck to his jaw and his hands on your waist. You’d kissed before but it was nothing like this, it couldn’t have been. This kiss was years in the making, subconsciously wished for, teased, thought about late night, thought about in quiet moments… and not just by Art.

His hands slid over your wet skin, over your back as your fingertips met the roots of his wet hair. He pulled you closer, his hands at the crook of your waist. From an outsiders perspective it was always supposed to end this way- and from an outsiders perspective, some would say it wasn’t just a kiss without any way to explain exactly just what it was, because they weren’t you. And they weren’t Art.

And they couldn’t ever be able to understand just how it felt when it was just you, just Art, alone in the shallows with a kiss that was strong and heavy with the weight of years and compiled collections of casual touches.

He hummed into it and you both smiled with every breath between. It was perfect, it was magic, it was sweet. The air warm, the water cool. God, you were perfect, you were so perfect and it was all Art could think about as your hands moved down and his moved up, taking his turn to cup your face between his hands and kiss you harder than before as your hand slid down his chest, across his bare stomach. You giggled at the way he kissed you harder and it made him smile but neither of you stopped for a moment, neither of you missed a beat. He pushed your wet hair behind your ear when you eventually pulled away, keeping his face close, just hovering.

Lips wet, sweet breath, a mutual sigh, that lead to a shared laugh. Art, hands still on either side of your face, kissed you again, just because he could. You kissed him back just the same and he pulled away gently once more. This time you kissed him again, like it was a newfound addiction. He chuckled and pulled you closer once more and the kiss went on a while longer, not hungry, not desperate, just easy. Waited for.

Eventually it did end and you decided to get out of the water, it was with knowing smiles that you collected your clothes and dried off again. You pulled a towel off the clothesline, drying your hair, “I have to admit I’ve wanted that for longer than you know,” you admit, fighting your lips from pulling upward.

Art, with the largest crooked grin on his face, moved closer and grabbed his own towel from earlier. “Really?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. Art was reduced to a boy the way you looked at him, your lips pink from the kissing, semi-wet hair still just blowing in the wind. Gentle. He dried his own hair and threw the towel back on the line. “How long?” He pulled you in by the crook of your waist again, batting away the fact that he as a grown man had butterflies. You just smirked.

“Too long,” you said, slipping out of his grasp and running up the steps. You spent a moment apart to get changed properly and quietly, as to not wake Patrick. He met you on the couch again, unable to stop thinking about you in any capacity. You, fully clothed, comfortable, tired, lack of makeup, hair still damp, were the most beautiful person he had ever seen and he just wanted to stare at you the way he always had, but this time knowing.

He chuckled as you leaned against him without words, draping an arm around you as you settled in against him. No more words were needed, there was not much more to say. You ended up talking until you both somehow fell asleep.

Patrick woke up before you, having gone to bed first and seeing you laying on Art’s chest, both his arms around you, one of your legs draped over his lower half, he knew.

It was the difference in distance that told him- when one of you fell asleep there was always enough respect to have levels. He got himself a cup of orange juice, came back and he knew, chuckling to himself. They say trios don’t last, but it wasn’t the end of it when you and Art got together after that trip. Just meant you and Patrick were even closer sisterwives and he was fine with that. Art was fine with that. You were fine with that.

From an outsider's perspective, they would have said nothing changed.

#art donaldson #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #challengers movie #challengers fluff #tinytennisskirt

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natokkiz · 2 months ago

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OUR PATHS | 09. so much for moral support (wc: 0.5k) cw: mentions of drinking and being drunk

EVEN IF it was all an incentive for staying later in the office today, you were determined to have fun tonight. although you swore you would get yunjin back for instigating, you were ultimately grateful for her and yangyang’s company tonight. being back at work after a week had been overwhelming, but the sight of jaemin across the room made things even more complicated. you tried to keep your mind off of him, focusing on yangyang’s arm around your waist and badly singing with yunjin to the music. yunjin even insisted that you match her energy with the drinks the moment you officially clocked out. but every so often, you couldn’t help but drift your eyes to jaemin and mark on the other side, catching jaemin looking back at you in between his conversations with mark.

after making eye contact with him for what seemed to be the fifth time, he made his way over, pulling you aside just as you tried to blend back into the crowd with your friends. he had finally decided to get over his nerves, listen to what all of his friends had been saying, and just talk to you like he had been planning for over a week. "hey y/n, can we talk?" jaemin whispered in your ear, his tone eager but insistent. his hand brushed the side of your face slightly, and you tried to ignore the way your heart raced from his touch, hoping that it was only the alcohol’s effect on you. “talk?” you replied, slurring the word a little, immediately regretting trying to stay on the same level as yunjin. "about what, jaemin? you had a whole year to talk.” your intoxicated self had tried to make a half truthful, half sarcastic remark but it was taken the wrong way. jaemin’s jaw tensed, and you noticed his eyes flicker with a mix of hurt and frustration. “that’s not really fair… and clearly, you’re drunk, y/n.” he felt discouraged but mainly concerned about you. “let’s just talk later. i can give you a ride back.” before you could respond, yangyang stepped up, his arm moving protectively around your shoulder. “i’ve got it, man. she’s with me tonight.”

“yangyang, it’s okay—” you spoke out trying to diffuse the rising tension, but yangyang jumped in again, “she doesn’t need you playing hero now.” the room felt like it had gone still, despite the bass and dancing practically shaking the room. jaemin’s eyes grew wider, to yunjin’s attention. “guys, let’s just leave it,” yunjin stepped in. you looked directly at jaemin. “i just don’t get it jaemin, why now? why all of a sudden are you pretending like you still care? you don’t get to act like that anymore.” a flash of pain crossed his face, and he muttered back, “i’m not pretending, y/n. goodnight, i’ll see you tomorrow.” the words hung heavily between you, and before either of you could say more, you turned, allowing yangyang and yunjin to walk you outside. jaemin walked back to mark, feeling defeated yet again.

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NOTES | happy halloween!! i promised a double update and here it is! but i fear this is quite spooky 👻 hope this gives y'all a little bit of insight into y/n's flaws too TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies

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#jaemin x reader #jaemin texts #jaemin imagines #jaemin smau #jaemin angst #na jaemin x reader #jaemin imagine #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin #jaemin #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream texts #nct dream x reader #nct dream smau #isa writes ✍️#loml <3 #fic: our paths 🐇

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clarisse0o · 3 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 67

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 6K

Masterlist

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Friday, March 5th; 11:15 PM - On the plane.

"Sweetheart," Lucy whispers to me. "We're about to land."

I groan, sinking into what seems to be her neck, judging by the familiar scent reaching my nose. I’m so comfortable. I don’t want to open my eyes, but I feel like I have to when she alternates between caressing and shaking my thigh. A grumble escapes me, making my girlfriend laugh.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Don't make me take drastic measures."

I can’t help but smile. I missed that nickname.

"I’d like to see you try."

My voice is rough, betraying my six hours of sleep. Lucy runs her hand through my hair, making me hum with satisfaction. Reuniting with her after a week of classes feels so good. I’ve worked so hard that I’m completely drained. I pull back to stretch, and Lucy waits until I’m done to kiss me. I glance to the other side, where Ingrid is still lost in her own world with her headphones on. Either she woke up before me, or she hasn’t moved since takeoff.

"Am I the only one who slept?" I ask.

"Mmhmm," she teases.

I sigh and cuddle back against Lucy. We still have a few minutes left. She kisses the top of my head, making me shiver.

"It feels like ages since I’ve been home."

"A month," Lucy comments.

"It feels longer."

It really does. Ingrid and Mapi had started dating at my place. A little month, and yet so much happiness has been shared since then. I hope it lasts. The plane lands smoothly, and the passengers disembark with a bit of jostling. Shay wasn’t here this time, but I hope to see her on the way back. I liked her. We make our way to the terminal. Hector is picking us up, but I’m not surprised to see Mapi by his side. She rushes into her beloved’s arms, who welcomes her warmly. We take the opportunity to greet my driver, who seems happy to see us again. After picking up our luggage, we head out. I sit up front to give Mapi and Ingrid time to catch up. As for me, I’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the arms of my girlfriend, which I missed so much last night. I sleep much better with her, but I’m not complaining. We have weekends, and not everyone is that lucky.

The ride is short. Mapi's conversations make time fly. Everyone seems full of energy except me, even though I slept. I’m lucky my suitcase is the lightest. I didn’t bring much, following Lucy’s advice. That way, I’ll be able to bring some stuff back to Manchester. Our move is progressing, and it makes me happy. When we arrive at the house, I expect Lucy to greet me, but to my surprise, my mom welcomes us instead.

"Good evening, girls. I hope you had a good trip."

"Hey, Mom. Yeah, it wasn’t too bad."

"Speak for yourself. You slept the whole way," Ingrid mocks, making Mapi laugh.

I glare at her, but Lucy quickly pulls me into her arms to ease my tension.

"Okay, that’s enough."

"Can we go upstairs?" I suggest with a tired sigh.

I’m not in the mood to face everything right now, even though I came to settle many things. Lucy smiles and kisses my forehead.

"Yes, I think we’re all exhausted."

"We’ll chat tomorrow morning over breakfast," my mom agrees.

"You’ll be there?" I ask, surprised.

"I’m on duty for a few hours in the late afternoon tomorrow, but otherwise, I’m free for the weekend. I had some hours to take, so I arranged it because I knew you’d be coming."

"Oh... okay. Do you know if Joan is in my room?"

"I don’t think so. I put him to bed in his own room, and I haven’t heard a peep since. Who knows, maybe he’s changed rooms."

I nod and thank her for the info, though it doesn’t help much. We exchange goodnights before heading upstairs. The girls take their usual room, and Lucy and I go to mine. I don’t turn on the light until I’m sure my brother isn’t there. Surprisingly, he’s really not, but I’m not going to complain. It means I can enjoy Lucy’s company as much as I want.

"I’m going to change," Lucy announces after rummaging through her suitcase.

"Yep. Hurry up."

She winks at me before slipping behind the bathroom door. She acts like she’s at home, and I love it. I quickly change in the dressing room, wearing one of my dad’s old T-shirts. I don’t bother with shorts since the shirt falls almost mid-thigh. Lucy’s seen me in less, and I feel comfortable with her now. It’s not like she’d take advantage of the situation. I’m done by the time she reopens the door. I join her to brush my teeth, admiring her curves highlighted by a tank top and shorts while she finishes the task herself.

"I’m almost done," she says with a mouthful.

"Take your time," I reply with a smile.

She rinses and wipes her mouth, finally giving me space. I quickly brush my teeth and rush to join her in bed, where she’s already lying down. I make sure to turn off all the lights before lying beside her. A satisfied sigh escapes me. I particularly love my bed, especially when I’m sharing it with Lucy.

"For a change, could you hold me tonight?" she asks unexpectedly.

Her request catches me off guard, but I immediately turn toward her and wrap my arms around her.

"You don’t need to ask," I murmur. "Come here."

A few seconds later, I can feel her against me, her breath brushing my chest. My T-shirt had ridden up, but I didn’t mind. Lucy took the opportunity to slip her arms underneath. I wasn’t wearing a bra, but she didn’t push the intimacy.

"I missed you," she whispers.

"I missed you too," I admit. "So much."

I kiss her face repeatedly. She hums little sounds of amusement.

"Good night, my love," I finish, kissing her lips.

"Good night," she mumbles in return. "I love you."

Smiling, I fall asleep without any trouble.

Saturday, March 6th; 9:30 AM - At Ona’s house.

The atmosphere in the house felt strange this morning. When Lucy and I came downstairs, I was surprised to find Marcus in the living room, reading the newspaper, waiting for breakfast. That wasn’t all. Samuel wasn’t in the kitchen today. It was my mom making pancakes, burning her fingers in the process, with Joan. Something had definitely changed.

"Morning," I mumbled.

"Ona!"

"Oh, hey girls. Did you sleep well?"

I hugged my brother as Lucy answered my mom, saying everything was fine.

"Where’s Samuel?" I asked.

"I gave him the weekend off. Marcus and I are here, so we didn’t want to bother him."

"Oh..."

I struggled to hide my disappointment. I would have loved to see him again, just like I miss Lucy so much.

"Can we help with anything?" Lucy offered, noticing my reaction.

"The table isn’t set yet, but don’t worry about it. I’ll do it when I’m done here."

"No, we’ll do it," Lucy insisted. "Will you help me, sweetheart? I don’t know where the silverware is."

I obey without showing my joy. First, I set Joan down after kissing his cheek. Then, I help Lucy find everything and bring it to the dining room.

"She's trying to be nice, so please, don't lose your temper," my girlfriend scolds me when we're alone.

"Something's off. This house has never been this calm and full before," I say, placing the silverware after Lucy set the plates down.

She stops and cups my face, making it impossible for me to look away.

"Stop overthinking."

"You don't know them," I say, raising my voice in a whisper, forcing her to let go. "They’ve never spent a weekend together at home."

"Maybe they talked things out. Didn’t you say things weren’t going well with Joan?"

"Hmm," I respond uncertainly. "Usually, when things seem this way, something bad is about to happen."

She sighs, offering a small smile.

"Nothing will happen today if you just relax. I'm here, okay? And I always will be. Just stop expecting the worst in this house."

I sigh and nod, struggling to believe her, but I’ll trust her for now. Mapi and Ingrid interrupt us at that moment, and then my mother enters with a huge plate of pancakes. The girls look happy and it’s nice to see. We sit down for breakfast. I’m having a hard time enjoying myself, especially since Joan has placed himself between Lucy and me. I notice he seems more cheerful than last week when he stayed with us. Maybe Lucy is right. Conversations start flowing at the table. I don't feel like joining in, too lost in my thoughts, and Lucy notices. When she finishes eating, she lets her hand linger near my neck, a silent reminder of her support, all while sipping her coffee and engaging in the discussion.

"What do you all have planned today?" my mother asks.

"We’re not sure yet. Nothing special," Lucy replies.

"But I can tell you we won't be here tonight," I say calmly.

"Yeah, it’s going to be a party!" Mapi adds.

"Really? You’re going out? Where to?" my mother asks excitedly.

"Ah, that’s a surprise. It’s our couples' anniversary, so we’re celebrating!" Mapi grins.

"Already? Time flies."

I sigh softly. If Lucy weren’t touching me, I would've gotten up long ago to clear my plate. My mother, sitting next to me at the head of the table, smiles at me timidly, but I don't return it. I feel uncomfortable in this picture-perfect family atmosphere.

"I’d like to take a walk along the beach," I say to Lucy. "It’s been a long time since I’ve been."

"We can go, if you want. The weather looks nice outside, and I haven’t been yet," she replies.

"It’s already warmer than Manchester," I remark.

"You’ll have to get used to it," she teases.

I smile, nodding. It’s the right time to share the news. We haven’t told anyone yet, and while it might seem obvious, it’s good to confirm it.

"I’ve decided to move in with Lucy," I announce bluntly.

"Really?" Ingrid exclaims. "Since when?"

"You two are so secretive, it’s unbelievable," Mapi adds, looking more surprised than anything.

My smile widens despite myself. She really knows how to lighten the mood. I glance at Lucy, who keeps supporting me from where she sits.

"We decided last week."

"Well, the house will stay quiet, then," Marcus comments.

"It’s sudden," my mother adds.

"It was a bit of an impulsive decision," Lucy admits.

"We had a bit of a spat over the gallery’s response," I explain.

"Oh, did you finally get an answer?" my mother asks, surprised. "What did they say?"

"They want to send me to Cardiff. I’m applying elsewhere. We prepared my applications this week, and they were sent yesterday, just before we left."

"But it’s a good opportunity," Marcus remarks.

"I know, but I don’t want to be far from Lucy. I have a meeting with Mr. Fields next Monday. We’ll see how it goes," I shrug. "Either way, my decision is made."

"Let’s wait for the meeting first," my girlfriend interjects. "The decision isn't final yet."

I feel like she still hopes I’ll accept the offer… Or maybe she just wants to reassure my mother and Marcus? Either way, if it’s the first, she’ll have to accept it won’t happen because, for me, it’s already clear.

"Well…" my mother says, getting up from the table.

"You’ll stay for lunch, right? I’m making lasagna."

The girls look at me with starry eyes. I roll mine and end up agreeing to please them. Lasagna, of all things—one of my favorite dishes. At least we’d enjoy the morning here. Everyone pitches in to clear the table first. I'm not sure how it happened, but at one point, I found myself alone with my mother in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

"So…" she starts. "Everything’s good with Lucy?"

"Uh, yeah. I think my decision to move in with her says a lot."

"True…"

"And how’s Joan? Is he behaving better?"

I had checked in with her last week to make sure Mapi and Joan had arrived safely. I’d briefly mentioned my concerns, but since it was late in Barcelona, we hadn’t had time to delve deeper into the conversation.

"A little. We’re slowly getting him back on track. Marcus and I have adjusted our schedules so one of us is always around to be with him."

I nod. Lucy was right. That’s already a good step. I didn’t have that privilege. Lucy was the one who took care of me when I got home from school.

"During the day, he’s fine. The main issue is after school. But we can’t always be available; we both have demanding jobs."

"At least he’s seeing you more. What about Sofia and Sam? You’re not planning to let them go, are you?"

"Oh no! They do so much for us that the thought never crossed our minds. Now that we’re around more, we try to give them more time off when it suits them. I think Samuel even went away for the weekend with his boyfriend."

"Okay," I murmur. "That’s good, then."

I turn around when I hear footsteps and feel relieved to see Lucy. Her timing couldn’t have been better. She brings in the last of the dishes. We exchange a smile.

"Need any help here?"

"Oh no, we’re almost done."

"The girls are settled on the couch. Apparently, Joan picked Mulan… The animated one, of course."

I chuckle softly, just imagining Mapi watching a Disney movie. I stop when I realize Lucy is serious.

"Really?"

"Yep. And he’s asking for you, but I bet you guessed that."

I groan, causing my mother to laugh. I hadn’t imagined our morning ending like this, but well, we’re family after all.

"Go ahead. I’ll finish up."

"Thanks."

I put away the last plate before heading off with my girlfriend. She wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"Everything okay?" she asks, kissing my temple.

"Let’s say it is…" I exhale.

"Did she tell you what she wanted to?"

I frown, realizing I’d completely forgotten about that in the middle of everything. She had insisted on sharing some big news.

"No. I forgot all about it. We talked about Joan instead."

"You’ll tell me later," she says as we enter the living room.

The couch has been pulled out into a bed. Our friends are already lying on one side, with my brother in the middle. His face lights up when he sees us.

"Can we start?"

"Yeah, just give us a second," I laugh. "Let us settle in."

I sit next to her and snuggle up to Lucy when she joins me. Maybe this moment won’t be as bad as I thought. My brother starts the movie, but honestly, I don’t pay much attention. I’m too focused on the soothing touch of my girlfriend. It’s so comforting and relaxing.

Saturday, March 6th, 6:30 PM – At Ona’s Place

I’m nervous. I look at myself in the mirror one more time. I think I look beautiful, wearing a dress and heels. I hope Lucy finds me beautiful too. I’m not used to seeing myself like this, even less with Mapi, who’s sitting on my bed looking just as stylish.

"Everything will be fine, you know," she teases. "It’s not like this is your first date."

"I know," I murmur. "Do you have the tickets I asked for?"

"Oh yeah, they’re downstairs," she says, standing up.

"Downstairs? What are they doing down there?"

"Well, did you think I’d risk Ingrid finding them? The last thing I needed was her thinking they were for her, and then I’d have to explain everything."

"Hum..."

I take a deep breath. I’m a little scared. I planned to go to the Barcelona theatre for a show. I had fallen in love with it and wanted Lucy to experience our theatre. This was the perfect opportunity. But of course, dinner had to come first. I chose a casual restaurant. I wanted to impress, but not too much. I wanted it to feel like us. We didn’t need anything grandiose—just a moment to share, like we always love.

"Alright, can we go down? I’m sure the girls are already waiting for us."

"Yeah, I think so."

She laughs, patting my back.

"Come on, stop. You’ve already won her heart. Tonight’s just a romantic evening."

She winks at me, and I smile. She’s right. We just need to enjoy ourselves. That’s the theme of this weekend. The afternoon was already amazing by the beach. I loved seeing it again. I missed the scenery, but I can’t complain about where I am now.

"Let’s go. We don’t want to keep them waiting."

The girls got ready in the guest room that Mapi and Ingrid were staying in. Lucy just grabbed her bag and locked herself in there. Now, I’m eager to see her again. We head downstairs quietly. My anxiety returns as we descend the stairs. I hope we’re the first ones down, but of course, we’re not. Ingrid and Lucy are already there, chatting and even laughing with my mom. She looks stunning, just as I expected. She’s wearing a navy blue dress with an open back. The front is held by a strap around her neck. I stand there for a moment, just admiring her. She’s the first to move, walking toward me in her white heels. She takes my hand to help me down the last few steps and plants a kiss on it.

"You look stunning, my love," she murmurs, pulling me into her arms, making me melt completely.

"You’re not too bad yourself."

She laughs softly. I’m tempted to kiss her, but I remember we’re not alone. Mapi has joined Ingrid, and my mom is watching from the side.

"Shall we go?"

"Yes... Did you manage to get the car keys?"

"Of course. Your mom seems to trust me more than she trusts you."

"That’s undeniable," I say, rolling my eyes, making my girlfriend laugh.

"Have a great evening, girls," my mom says as we head outside.

"Thank you."

Outside, I’m surprised to see not one, but two cars. It makes things easier, but I wasn’t expecting it. There’s Hector’s car and my mom’s.

"Well, I guess this is where we part ways," Ingrid says.

It’s at that moment that I take a good look at her. It’s the first time I’ve seen her looking so different. She’s dressed up for a night out as well.

"Yeah," my girlfriend responds. "Have a great evening on your side. See you later, maybe."

As she speaks, she opens the door to my mom’s Jeep. I get in, feeling a bit uneasy. I don’t have great memories in this car, the few times I’ve been in it. It’s what she used to take me to my detox sessions at the hospital, at least when she could. Lucy takes the driver’s seat, and we’re the first to leave. I’m floating on a little cloud, with her hand resting on my thigh. She hums along to the song on the radio, and after a while, I realize she’s driving without me giving her any directions. Then, I remember—I forgot to get the tickets!

"You know!" I exclaim.

She laughs heartily, squeezing my knee in her palm.

"Sorry, baby. I hope you won’t be mad, but I made a small change to your plans."

"W-what? What do you mean?"

She smiles, glancing at me briefly before turning her eyes back to the road, knowing I prefer that.

"Mapi told Ingrid she was panicking because she lost the tickets for what you had planned, and she didn’t dare tell you."

I widen my eyes. Sure, the theatre was important to me, but I wouldn’t have been mad at Mapi for something out of her control.

"Of course, I found out and contacted Mapi. I offered to take over the planning and make it a last-minute surprise for you. So here we are. I hope you won’t be upset that I made that decision."

I exhale softly. I don’t know if I want to be mad at them or not. I was really looking forward to organizing this evening for once, but at the same time, it’s so sweet. I can’t be mad at her for this. She always wants to make me happy.

"I know you wanted to plan this evening yourself... but I just love surprising you. I can’t help it."

What did I just say? I laugh as she brings my hand to her lips. This woman will drive me crazy. I definitely can’t be mad at her.

"You’re not mad, are you?"

"No... So, what have you planned instead?"

"You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t expect anything wild. It’s just us tonight."

We had the same idea—it’s amazing. I smile, feeling at peace.

"I’m already excited then."

We reach the city center, and I recognize the street we’re on. I think I know where we’re going, but I wait until we’re closer to be sure. She must’ve gotten the idea from Mapi. There’s no other way—she doesn’t know anything about my old life, let alone my habits. She parks the car, and with a squeeze on my thigh, I understand I should stay in my seat. She walks around to open my door and offers me her arm.

"Really?" I tease playfully.

"Only the best for my lady," she replies with a mischievous grin as we start walking.

"But tonight was supposed to be my chance to be the gentlewoman. You missed the boat, what a shame."

She laughs and kisses my cheek.

"This night doesn’t belong to anyone in particular. What I mean is, it’s our night—just the two of us."

"You’re right."

I hold onto her arm and rest my head on her shoulder, smiling as I see the Arkadia sign glowing red in the distance. It’s been a while since I’ve been here.

"You know where we’re going, don’t you?"

I laugh a little, taking my eyes off the sign. She must’ve noticed my gaze. I have a lot of memories here, with Mapi and my high school friends. We used to hang out here a lot when Miller didn’t throw a party. I’m eager to see if the place has changed.

"It was obvious the second you drove by here," I admit.

"I’m becoming predictable—that’s not good."

I giggle again, leaning into her a little more.

"Don’t be silly, baby. It was unexpected, really. I was expecting the theatre, so you know."

"The theatre? That was your plan?"

"Mmhmm," I confirm. "With a nice little dinner before, but yeah."

"I didn’t know you liked that."

"It depends on the show. When my dad came back from missions, he’d take me there every time. I loved going because it was our moment, you know?"

"I see," she smiles. "One day, I’ll take you to the one in Porto."

"Are you crazy? The shows there cost an arm and a leg, and they’re not even the best. But I’d love to visit it. »

- Very well, Princess. We'll visit it when we go to Porto then.

I smile as she opens the door for me to enter the restaurant/bar. The décor hasn’t changed one bit over the years. It’s a totally modern style with a central bar and all the tables surrounding it.

- Oh, I can’t believe it... Ona Batlle! It’s been a while!

- Sterling? I’m surprised. Hey.

I awkwardly accept his embrace, which catches me off guard. He’s an old high school friend. We were never particularly close. He was an athlete, and we were always in the same class. We know each other that way, but also from a few parties we attended together thanks to mutual friends.

- How are you? What have you been up to? he asks, stepping back.

- I’m doing pretty well, I say as I feel a hand slide across my back.

I glance at Lucy and give her a soft smile.

- Let me introduce you. Sterling, an old high school classmate. Sterling, this is my girlfriend, Lucy.

- Well, you must be doing really well, he laughs. Hi.

He extends his hand to Lucy. She takes it for a polite handshake but doesn’t say anything.

- Do you still hear from Mapi? he asks. She still comes by here from time to time, unlike you.

- Oh, yes, yes. We see each other regularly when I’m here. I live in Manchester now. And you, what are you doing here? Do you work here?

- Yeah, on weekends. I’m still in college, so I need a bit of cash.

Lucy clears her throat, catching Sterling’s attention. I hold back a smile. She just can’t help herself.

- I’ve reserved a table for two under the name Woods, she announces.

- Oh yeah, sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. It’s just been a while since we last saw each other. Come on, I’ll show you to your table.

- Could we get one of the round tables in the back? I ask. That’s my favorite spot.

- Yeah, I think that can be arranged.

He takes us exactly where I wanted. I love these spots because the seating wraps around the table in an arc, and there are walls that go all the way up to the ceiling, shielding us from the other tables. The other side has chairs, but what I love most is how cozy it feels, making the space less noisy.

- Here you go, ladies. I’ll leave you with the menus and be back to check on you.

- Thank you.

I slide onto the bench first, quickly followed by my girlfriend. This way, we sit side by side.

- I can see why you like these seats, Lucy murmurs.

- It’s perfect for tonight, don’t you think?

- Exactly, she says, picking up the menu. We can eat and have a drink here, right?

- We don’t have to stay here the whole night.

- No. This is great for tonight. I even saw a pool table over there...

- Yeah, there’s a pool table here, I giggle. Maybe it’s time for you to give me a private lesson, you being the expert. Maybe I can finally beat your friends.

She laughs and nods.

- That would be an idea, because you’re a walking disaster at pool.

- Hey, that’s not my fault, I pout.

- I never said it was, she teases. So, what do you recommend from the menu?

- Everything, I laugh. No, for real, we could order something to share. Like this dish, look. My friends and I used to get this because it was cheap, and we could split the bill.

- Don’t worry about the price. I’m paying tonight.

- No, I always pay! You could let me pay for once!

- No way, she smiles. Since I planned tonight, I’m going all the way.

- You have a secret stash of money or something?

She laughs heartily at my little joke. I actually wonder how much she earns because she never seems to have any complaints, considering what she owns.

- Nonsense. I’m just well-paid, that’s all. And since I’m still in school, I don’t have daily expenses, so I save a lot. Plus, I got paid for the nights and weekends I worked... thanks to you, by the way, she laughs. So, yeah.

- Well, when you put it like that... Do you pay for your meals?

- No, it’s included in my contract, along with my living expenses for staying in the dorm.

- That’s amazing!

- Not really. It’s a private school. It’s either you or your parents, in your case, who pay for the teachers. Plus, there are partnerships, like with the government. There aren’t many schools like Camp Wiegman.

- Did you know the Putellas and Leah and Alessia families ended up there because of a judge? I ask her.

- Yes, I knew thanks to Ingrid.

- Does everyone confide in you?

- Yes. We don’t let students leave until they’ve talked at least once about why they’re there. We want it to have a freeing effect on them, you know? Not everyone has someone to listen to them.

- That was the case for me, I murmur. But you had to push hard before I opened up.

- That’s true, she laughs. You weren’t easy, but I understand why. It depends on the case... Like Alexia, for example. Within two weeks, we knew why she and her sister were there. Ingrid practically let her go right away. She was a good student and didn’t have any internal struggles.

- That doesn’t surprise me. She’s always been happy and studious.

- She was relieved to be there, you could tell.

- Well, the school brought them stability, and she no longer had to worry about her sister taking care of everything on her own.

- That’s true.

A brief silence falls between us. I close the menu after glancing through it quickly. It hasn’t changed, so I already know what I’m going to order.

- Have you decided?

- Yeah. I’m getting what I always get.

- And what’s that?

- A Margarita cocktail. It’s excellent here.

- Well then, I’ll follow your lead.

The evening goes perfectly. We order quickly, and we talk, laugh, and eat... all while staying close to each other. I wouldn’t trade this night for anything in the world. This was our first night out alone, and I regret that we don’t do it more often. I get to hear numerous anecdotes she shares over drinks and our shared plate.

- I’ve always wanted to travel, she tells me.

- Really?

- Yeah. I think the world hides so many secrets. I’ve never had the chance to go to America, for example.

- I’ve been there once, I confess. When I was little, but honestly, I don’t remember much.

- What country did you visit?

- Cuba, I think, one summer. My mom loves warm places. That’s why she chose Barcelona.

- Cuba, she murmurs. It must be a beautiful country.

- I’d love to visit Argentina one day. I hear everything there is gorgeous.

- That’s true, she agrees, nodding. Egypt too. It must be amazing to see a pyramid. Or New Zealand.

- Oh, and Japan too! I add.

- Japan? she raises an eyebrow. I’m not sure you’d like the weather there, she laughs. You’re always complaining about Manchester, and it probably rains even more there.

- Yeah, well, I’d get used to it. It’s not like a week would kill me.

- Noted, she smiles, popping one of the last fries from the plate into her mouth.

- Oh no, I see what you’re up to! You need to stop getting ahead of my surprise ideas.

- I don’t know what you’re talking about, she replies with a mischievous grin.

- Yeah, right! You’re always one step ahead of me!

- You’re exaggerating.

- No, I giggle. Look at tonight. I had everything planned, and you just flipped it all.

- I didn’t flip anything, she laughs. Maybe you had something special planned that I didn’t know about? she teases me.

I blush, remembering what I had intended to do tonight. Maybe now is the time to make my announcement. Lucy notices my state and smiles gently.

- Oh, so you did have something planned? she teases again.

- Stop it, I giggle, lightly pushing her away. Or I’ll cancel what I was going to do.

Oh, threats now?

She laughs but steps back to give me space. I clear my throat and turn slightly on the bench to face her, trying to show her that this is serious. She doesn't take it that way at all. She looks like she's teasing me, with her head resting on her hand and a small smile on her lips. I can't speak anymore. The apprehension of opening up to her leaves me speechless. But she gives me time. So I watch her, especially her beautiful eyes. From the first day, they had haunted me. I could always relive that moment as if it were yesterday. I was frozen, trapped in that disorienting vision. It was silent, for the first time that evening. I take advantage of it to gently touch her beautiful face, tracing its contours. Lucy says nothing. She lets me rediscover her with her eyes closed. I touch everywhere: her eyebrows, her chin, her nose, her lips... I linger on the latter before kissing her as tenderly as possible. We rediscover each other softly before separating again. There's no trace of amusement on her face anymore. She understands that this is serious. So, I begin.

"I love you," I murmur. "I love you so much... You're the person I've always wanted in my life. You really don’t understand what you mean to me. You make me better... you make me happy. If we ever talk about breaking up, it would never come from me. Because I love you so much. Like I've never loved anyone before. Y-you must be my soulmate. I can’t see it any other way..."

The words are strong, but I had to let them out. I’d been holding it in for too long. My eyes fill with tears. Lucy is in the same state as me. It's the first time I've seen her eyes this watery. She says nothing, though, and panic starts to rise in me. Maybe I went too far, talking about soulmates? But that’s what I feel, and she deserves to know. She, who has waited for me all this time. She, who has accepted me with my character, my flaws, and my mood swings. To be honest, I don't even like myself sometimes.

"Lucy, I-"

"Shhh."

Her fingers brush my lips, encouraging me to stay silent. She replaces them with her lips, starting another kiss. Soft at first, then rougher towards the end. We can't hold back anymore. Our emotions speak for us. We kiss, again and again, barely pausing for breath, closing the gap between us as much as possible. The only regret I have is being in a public place. I have this overwhelming urge to tear off her clothes, to discover this body that belongs to me.

"I-I want you," I whisper against her lips in a moment of euphoria.

My comment breaks the powerful connection between us. We’re both out of breath. She smiles at me before resting her forehead against mine. This moment allows us to come down from our high, eyes closed. I blush, realizing what I just said. When I open my eyes, Lucy is already looking at me. Her eyes are dilated, dark with desire. I’m speechless at the sight. She gently runs her fingers across my face.

"I love you, and I’ll make love to you one day... But definitely not on a whim and certainly not under your mother’s roof."

I burst out laughing despite myself. Tears fall from my eyes at the same time. It's adorable that she can still think of my mom in this situation. She smiles and eventually laughs too when she sees that I can't calm down. This unique moment is so us. It’s reserved, full of love, and sprinkled with joy. My laughter slowly fades. We return to the moment where we're gazing into each other's eyes. I feel silly for being so scared. With Lucy, everything was so simple. She made things feel so easy.

"I love you," I whisper again.

« and I love you," she says with a soft smile.

She knew this was a big step for me. She never even questioned my reasons. That’s admirable of her. I plan to explain it all to her one day.

"I feel like I'm starting a new life with you. It’s like I'm reliving my first times all over again. Maybe not for everything, but for most of it. I know it’s strange, but... I don’t even know how to express it."

"There’s nothing strange about that. You’ve erased your past from your mind, and now you’re starting your life over, so it feels like you’re experiencing everything for the first time again."

I nod. She completely understood what I was trying to say. She takes my hands in hers.

"I would've loved to be your first. I completely understand why you’re anxious, but you don't need to be. You won’t mess up this new chance. I fully intend to be the last person you’ll ever know that intimately."

I throw myself awkwardly into her arms, burying my head in her neck. I’ve never needed to explain much for Lucy to understand me. That’s one of the reasons I love her so much. She kisses the top of my head, holding me as tightly as she can, whispering sweet words to reassure me. Meanwhile, I keep repeating that I love her in what feels like uncontrollable sobs, overwhelmed by all the emotions coursing through me.

#woso #woso community #lucy bronze #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi and ingrid

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bleachedhallways · 11 months ago

Text

lullaby & goodnight. ⌇ lrh.

A/N: i have a soft spot for dad!au’s & the idea of luke being a father makes me super soft, so i wanted to indulge in my silly little fantasies.

summary: in which, your daughter is having a hard time falling asleep & luke knows exactly how to center her.

word count: 1,000+ words.

“Ollie, baby, please–”

“No.” The young girl pouts, arms crossed over her chest with her favorite plush toy held in the grip of her tiny fingers. “No, no, no!”

“Ophelia, you need to sleep. How else will you have the energy to hang out with Daddy tomorrow?” A rhetorical question, yet you hope your five-year-old has the understanding and sense to answer it; Ophelia was incredibly smart for her age and seemed to be quite mature, however, she was a child and children will do as they please, no matter how old of a soul they already seem to be.

The tiny blonde shakes her head dramatically before looking away from you. At this point, you’re ready to admit defeat and let her stay up for as long as she wants, or at least, until she tires herself out doing whatever it was that she wanted to do. However, you wanted to sleep and your husband was in your home studio, finishing up a tune that he’d been working on for days, so grabbing him to help with your stubborn daughter was, in your mind, out of the question. You couldn’t leave her unattended, you’d feel like a shitty mother if you did and Ollie was too young to be on her own.

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall asleep?” You inquire, eyebrows knit together in hopes that there was a solution to this scenario. You’re met with large, doe-like eyes, the hue of them a replica of your own. Your daughter’s gaze is innocent, yet a hint of mischief lies in the depths of her irises.

“No, but Daddy can.”

Of course. Ophelia was a Daddy’s girl, through and through. She and Luke shared a bond unlike one you’ve ever encountered and had each other wrapped around their fingers. Whenever you three had family outings, there were moments where you felt like you were third wheeling; it was simply your husband and your daughter’s world and you were just living in it – happily, obviously. You don’t think you’d have it any other way. Sharing life with the two of them was one of the greatest gifts you’d ever received.

“Ol, Daddy’s busy right now.”

Ophelia wasn’t having it. She would not take ‘no’ for an answer, “I can wait for him!”

You blink twice, unsure of what to say to the child in front of you. The sound of a door opening and closing gains your attention, footsteps getting louder as they come down the hall and stop.

Luke pokes his head into the dimly lit bedroom your daughter occupies, a gentle, tired smile on his face. “Ladies,” He greets the both of you, “everything okay in here?” he adds, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Ollie is having a bit of trouble getting to bed.” You reply, your gaze averting from your husband to your little girl, who looks very pleased with herself; she’s about to get exactly what she wanted.

“Oh, yeah? Can I help?” Luke offers, fully entering the room. He sits on the edge of the twin sized bed covered in pale yellow sheets, stuffed animals crammed against the headboard.

Ophelia abandons her plush toy, leaning into her father’s hold as he opens his arms and cuddles her into his chest. A lighthearted chuckle leaves your husband’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you, “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m what she needed.”

“Figures,” You sigh, a grin pulling at your lips. “She’s got you wrapped, Lu.”

“Definitely,” He agrees, before turning his attention back to your daughter. “Alright, miss. How can I help you sleep, hm?”

Silence fills the room as your daughter thinks for a brief moment. She’ll milk Luke for all the time that he’s willing to give her, there’s no doubt about that. Doe eyes look up, blinking innocently to really make sure he’s ready to deliver. “Sing to me, pretty please?”

Luke doesn’t waste any time in giving in to her command. If a lullaby is what she wants? It’s what she’ll get. “I can do that for you. Anything you’re wanting to hear?”

“No- wait, can I get comfy?” She asks, pulling away from her father a bit. Luke nods, shifting from his space on the edge of the bed, which prompts you to also get up in order to allow for your daughter to get comfortable under the sheets. Once she’s settled, you and your husband snuggle in on either side of her, wrapping your arms around the girl you both love most.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Luke hums, oceanic eyes peering down at your daughter. He always looks at her with so much love and so much pride, you swear that every time you see it, your heart swells up with affection.

Ophelia nods, her gaze trained on her father as he begins to sing softly, “Take my hand, now and forever…”

As he continues to sing, his melodic voice filling up the space, you watch as the melody flowing from Luke’s lips sends your daughter into a blissful, serene state. Her eyes get droopy as each second passes, the calm atmosphere and warmth provided by her loving parents causing sleep to overtake her. Soon enough, her head is slumped against the pillows, her face slightly buried in the Pink Floyd shirt your husband donned.

Your eyes meet Luke’s when you’re sure that Ophelia is sound asleep, quietly mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him. If it weren’t for him and his incredible knowledge of what your child needed, you doubt she’d be asleep by now. He smiles, blinking sleepily at you before gingerly leaving the softness your daughter’s bed provides, holding out his hand for you to take in order to leave her room.

With a flip of a switch, the dimly lit room is drowned in darkness, save for the pink hued night light plugged into the wall. Luke closes the door as you both exit, then wraps his arm around you and leads you to your own bedroom, sighing dreamily as the prospect of sleep draws closer with each step you take.

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icarusdescending7 · 4 months ago

Text

Aquamarine - Chapter 5

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

Price did throw you a mini celebration, he felt bad for missing the day. Gaz and Johnny made a crude little cake for you and everyone sat together and had a good evening. Almost everyone, anyway. Ghost seemed pretty distant the whole time, more so than usual. He would only talk when spoken to but was otherwise off in his own world. Eventually, he retired to his room for the night, leaving the rest of you to your own devices. You all ended up drinking a little bit, which was a mixed bag. Johnny was a very loud drunk, Gaz giggly, and Price the sleepy kind. Unfortunately, that left you, the sad kind, to get all sniffly with them and ramble about the things that make you sad. By the end of the night, you were crashed out on top of your bedsheets, sniffling in your sleep.

~~~

“Alright sweetheart, I gotta go. I’ll text you in the morning and we’ll call again tomorrow, okay?” Simon said, his voice slightly muffled from the phone speakers.

“Okay, Si. Tomorrow. Sleep tight.” You said, yawning. You sniffed a little, “I love you. Stay safe, okay? I want to see you again soon.”

“You know I always am, love. I love you too. Goodnight.” He said. You both hesitated to hang up, listening to each other breathe for a moment before he hung up.

‘Good morning. I hope you’re okay.’

‘We still on for a call tonight?’

You texted him at 6 am this morning when you had woken up. Usually, he’d respond in a few hours, but it was almost 5 pm. It concerned you.

‘Simon? You okay?’

‘Si?’

‘Love?’

It had been a few weeks since you last spoke to Simon. This wouldn’t bother you normally, considering how busy he was with work, but this time was different. He hadn’t said anything about being unreachable the last time you called, he hadn’t sent a text alerting you to an emergency… nothing. The anxiety ate away at you, chewed at the back of your mind like a horrible migraine. You stared at your texts to him, the long string of messages from you taking up the screen. No reply.

A few weeks turned into a few months, and you finally got a message. All it read was ‘I’m sorry.’

Wait, what? What? ‘I’m sorry’? What does that mean?

‘Simon? What does that mean?’

‘Please respond. What does that mean?’

Just as quickly as you sent those messages, they were quick to stop delivering.

You woke up in your clothes from the day before, your head hurting from dehydration, cheeks dried with salt. Your phone had gone dead from the countless messages you’d sent Simon, not going to bed until you passed out. You put it on the charger, getting up to shower and change clothes. By the time you got out, your phone was back on but no new notifications came in. You set it down and sighed, looking over at the wall.

A series of pictures lined them, dating back a few years at their oldest and a few months at their newest. You and Simon were the center of each, getting stupid pictures of the two of you at the pier, in the park, at restaurants, parties, and gatherings. All of them made your brow furrow— “What did he mean by sorry?” you asked aloud, staring at the photos. Deciding to send one last text in hopes he received it, you picked up your phone.

‘Seen 3:23 am’

So he did see them. But he didn’t respond. He must have blocked you but regretted it and unblocked you when he knew you’d be asleep.

‘Is this your way of ending things with me?’ You asked, sending the message. It went through and was immediately seen, but no reply came. You dropped your phone, grumbling to yourself.

A few days passed, and you were sitting on your couch staring into space. You didn’t have much energy to do anything but stare. You hadn’t eaten anything but a bag of chips, and you found yourself sipping on a warm glass of water. A knock on the door drew your attention from the nothing you were thinking of. Slowly, you got up, going to the front door and peering through the peephole. The sight beyond made your stomach drop— two soldiers stood beyond with grim looks on their faces. You hesitantly unlocked the door, opening it just enough to ask what they were there for.

“Are you the spouse of Lieutenant Simon Riley?” One of the men asked, turning to try and peer at you through the crack in the door. You sighed, opening the door fully.

“That’s me, yes. Well, his fiancé, technically but…” You trailed off. “Sorry. Is there something I can help you boys with?” You knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. You knew exactly what words were going to come out of his mouth, and you were already bracing for it. Your mind blurred out all the words that he said, except a few.

“…was killed in the line of duty. We’re sorry for your loss.”

You couldn’t keep yourself upright, knees buckling underneath you as the truth hit you like a bag of bricks. One of them rushed to catch you, not letting you hit the floor as you fell. Tears flowed like a broken dam and your shoulders shook. The news wreaked havoc on your mind, sending you into a swirl of agony.

He was gone. He was gone and you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye! He left you alone with only his memory! Didn’t people normally get the honor of getting their spouses tags? Or a uniform? Or even their personal effects? This isn’t right! This isn’t right… Memories flashed through your head, showing you the life you shared with him. The way he smiled, how bright and beautiful it was despite all the devastation he’d seen. The way he laughed, how he snorted at your jokes, how all of it made your heart warm right up even when you were low. The feeling of his hands in yours now becoming a cold memory, knowing you won’t ever get to feel that warmth ever again. You won’t ever get to hear him say “I love you” again. Or sweetheart, or love, or your name.

Was loving him worth the pain of losing him?

~~~

You woke up with a start, shooting upright with your heart racing and your head pounding. You shook as you looked around for your phone, trying to check the time. When you found it, the time read 3:57 am. You had a new text too, from Ghost.

‘Can you have nightmares quieter? People are trying to sleep.’

It was a fresh message, sent mere minutes before you woke up. You took a shaky breath, steading your hands as you crafted a reply.

‘Like you’re any better.’

‘I am. I have padding on my walls for a reason.’

‘Whatever. Means sound shouldn’t come in either, or something like that.’

‘That’s not what that means.’

‘Who cares?’

‘Not you, apparently.’

‘Correct. Anyway. Its too early to go back to bed. Coffee?’

‘Sure.’

You took another breath, a lot more stable this time. You got up to get ready for the day and clean yourself up from your hangover. Eventually, you met Ghost in the kitchen and had a short conversation before Soap came in, who took over the conversation.

#icarusaquamarine #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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wayfayrr · 1 year ago

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haiiiii can i get uhhhh... spiked latte with Peppermint brittle to take away :3 yan! sky fics are not a want they are a NEED- MOSS HELP ME PLEASE---

order up!! hope it's to your tastes <3

well @sketchyspook - I've got your yan sky here for you with him being a manipulative pos for reader while keeping up his soft facade so they can't really question it :D

[Event masterlist]

“I still can’t believe that link, I mean of all people to fall in love with, you chose the person who was playing through your game? You could have been with a literal reincarnation of your goddess. ”

“You know none of the others were real right? I’m the only one who was alive… as far as I’m aware or care.”

“Still, I can’t believe you don’t resent me even a little bit. I made you re-live your quest so many times and I didn’t even know you were alive.”

All I get in return for that is a playful eye roll like I’d told him a dumb joke rather than confessing how awfully I treated him when he was trapped. It’s rather unnerving how calm he is about all of this, but I really shouldn’t push it any more. I don’t think it would be a pleasant mess to clean up if he snapped and did realise everything he’s been through wasn’t right.

“Can’t this wait until the morning love? We’ve both been through a lot today so we should get some rest right?”

He’s still insisting on calling me that? I do like it, my childhood crush speaking to me like I’m his lover, but something about it seems so wrong.

“Sure, right, fine. I’ve got a guest room and some spare pyjamas you can borrow link.”

“Thank you [name].”

The feeling of something being off with his attitude only grows as he gently grabs my hand while I’m showing him where he can stay. He’s too possessive about this, too happy, even for getting out of a hellscape that his game must’ve been for him, it’s unnerving. My guest room is small and simple with a bed, a small desk and a wardrobe, all in all somewhat reminiscent of his old dorm room. But it should be more than enough for him.

“There should be some spare clothes in the cupboard, my friends tend to just leave them here for whenever they visit.”

“And they’ll be fine with me just using them?”

“They don’t need to know, I’ll wash them tomorrow when we go out to get you some of your own. Goodnight link.”

“Sleep well, love.”

He shouldn’t need my help changing, so I’m confident in leaving him in here while I go shower and settle down for the night too.

Having a hot shower works wonders for clearing your head, a good night’s rest should help to put everything regarding link into focus.

“Hey.”

“Huh? I thought you said you liked the other room? What made you want to sneak into mine?”

“I tried to sleep, but being in there on my own? I was scared I would wake up back in skyloft without you.”

Turning him away if this is true would simply be cruel to him, it doesn’t help the feeling from earlier crawling back though. That he’s possessive, unhealthily so, but I have to brush it off. Maybe I’m just overthinking, maybe he’s just getting used to being real still. It could be any reason like that.

“Move over so that I can get in as well then.”

“You- you’re really not going to ask me to leave my dove? I know theirs a reason I fell for your kindness… I’ll never let anyone else come close to having you like this.”

“What was that?”

“I said you’re not going to ask me to leave and go back to the other room alone?”

Okay, there is definitely something deeply wrong with him if what I think I heard is what he really said. He’s not going too like me questioning him though, and I don’t exactly have the energy for it either. Which I think he can tell, his arms are so warm and welcoming though, it’d be torture to peel myself out of them. Drifting off to sleep where he wants me is just the natural result of how comfortable he is.

“See [name], Isn’t it just so nice to be my lover? Wouldn’t you prefer for it to just be me and you like this forever?”

I’m not even awake enough to respond, instead closing my eyes and sighing against him.

“I knew you would… don’t worry my dove, you’ll never leave my side again. No matter what.”

Ending that haunting sentence with a kiss to my neck and a gentle hum, seemingly more content than he’s ever been. Just from holding me in his arms as we both drift into a deep sleep.

#moss✦writes #peppermint✦brittle #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #lu sky #self aware au

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rocketinthesky · 4 months ago

Text

We’re not meant to be, but my heart refuses to listen

Max already found his soulmate, and is in a committed relationship with her. But why is his heart defying fate and pulling him back into George’s orbit?

- A Soulmate AU (GAX)

-fluff, slight angst, happy ending, canon divergent, rated Teen and up

Part II —> (Part I) (OR read on ao3)

Didn’t quite work out, though.

The information whirs around in Max’s mind like an incessant chant, George’s soft whisper still hot against his skin every time he remembers his words.

They’re on break for the summer, and Max doesn’t really get to see George. It would be easy, in theory, to text him if he’s free to hang out. Maybe for a game of paddle. Or lunch. Or a drink. But it’d be equally weird. They’re friendly, not exactly friends.

When race week comes back around, Max finds himself anticipating seeing George more than the actual race. Part of it has to do with the car devolving into a shitbox mid season. Max feels a little resigned. He has already locked in the championship. He doesn’t have the mental energy to expend towards a car that stopped performing.

His eyes immediately latch onto George when the man appears in his Mercedes polo, approaching the spot where he and a few other drivers are standing and idly chatting.

George meets his gaze, holds it. He grins, wide. All teeth, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Nose slightly scrunched up in that cute way of his.

Max smiles, clapping him on the shoulder when he’s finally standing next to him. He gets swept up into a conversation with him—random small talk about whatever really comes to mind. His eyes continuously flicker down to his exposed wrist, the husk of a tree inked on his skin, delicate branches reaching out and bare. He absentmindedly scratches his own wrist.

“Planning to grab dinner at this Italian place later with Lando and Alex. Wanna join, mate?”

The invite takes Max a little by surprise, but the answer leaves him faster than he can even process it.

“Yes.”

George’s responding beam feels like the lifeblood running through Max’s veins.

Dinner goes well.

Contrary to expectations, he doesn't end up fourth-wheeling the three friends. Rather, George seems to be striking up conversation with him more than the other two, and Max can't find it in himself to complain.

They don't drink since they still have their third free practice session tomorrow, but Max still feels a slight staticky buzz under his skin at how close George is next to him, their sides touching. Max has to fight the urge to press closer still. He can't possibly be that greedy.

Max and George head back together, George offering to drive and saving Max the uber fee to the hotel. It helps that they're staying at the same hotel.

There's something about talking to George that makes it difficult to...stop. Max keeps wanting to prolong the conversation, wanting to hear George's voice, a lot rawer and deeper, a little slower and language less refined than when he's talking for the cameras. It's always engaging, interesting, sometimes a little ridiculous with the constant banter.

Max can't help but lament reaching their hotel, signaling that they need to part ways for the night.

When Max reaches his room, he flops onto the bed with a groan. He can still feel the heat of George's palm seared onto his shoulder from when he said 'goodnight'. He turns over his wrist, stares at the rose inked on it. It looks wilted to Max, even though he knows that's physically impossible.

Just then his phone buzzes with a phone call. He sighs when he sees the name, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion settling within him. The guilt eats away at him as he picks up, and greets his girlfriend. The guilt isn't enough to force him to pretend to be happy. He'll just hope she thinks it's because of the race preparation.

He perks up a little, not so much with excitement, rather with his nerves setting alight at her hesitant yet unyielding words.

"We need to talk, Maxy. Not now, obviously. When you're...back. I'm sorry for springing this onto you right now. I just...sorry."

The call disconnects, not giving Max the time to either process her words or come up with any response.

Shit. Max thinks. Shit, shit, shit.

He fucked it up, didn't he?

Max, for all his oblivious demeanor, knows that those words, that tone, can only really mean one thing. What pains him—no, scares him—is that he feels a sickening sense of relief over it.

He wants to throw up.

Grabbing his phone, he opens up Instagram and instinctively finds himself opening up his messages with George. They haven’t sent any messages in weeks. Max doesn’t think they’ve ever had a proper conversation over text, even.

Max

what’s ur room no.

George

508

Max blinks a few times at his phone screen, unable to process reality. The reality of him impulsively asking George about his room number, the reality of George telling him without demanding any sort of explanation.

He gets out of bed embarrassingly quick, barely remembering to grab his room key-card before walking out, making his way towards George’s room.

George opens the door at the second knock. Max’s breath catches in his throat seeing him; George, shirtless, only donning a pair of boxers. He must’ve been ready for bed.

“Did i interrupt your sleep?” Max croaks out, feeling both apologetic and flustered. He tries very hard to keep his eyes focused on George’s face and not let them wander down. He notices George looking over him too, definitely noticing that Max is still wearing the same shirt and khaki shorts from their dinner prior. George, thankfully, doesn’t mention it.

“Nah, mate, you’re good.” George smiles. He back away from the door, opening it wider. “C’mon in, then.”

Max does, a tad dazed from everything that’s been happening. He hangs his head low even when he walks over to the sofa and plops down. The cushion shifts and he feels the air beside him become warmer as George situates himself right next to him.

“Everything alright, Max?”

“Yes,” Max replies, all too quick, mostly out of instinct.

Obviously George doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t push it either. He claps Max’s shoulder and gives it a short squeeze. The fleeting touch is alarmingly grounding.

“Anything to drink?”

Max turns his head enough to flash George a wry grin. “Gin and tonic?”

George barks out a laugh. “Not until the race is over, buddy.”

Max grimaces, sighing in defeat. “Just…plain water then.”

As George walks to the mini-fridge, Max’s eyes follow him of their own accord and he’s rudely reminded of George’s…bareness. Jesus, did the boxers have to be so tight? Max swallows around the shameful lump in his throat, quickly ducking his head just as George turned around to head back to him. George's lack of self-awareness is starting to annoy Max just a little as he accepts the offered water bottle with a murmured thanks.

They stay like that, sitting in silence. George quietly scrolls his phone, still next to Max, the heat of his body emanating off him and sheathing Max in a warmth that has the numbness subsiding a little.

Max idly scratches at his soulmate mark on his wrist, ignoring the tenderness of the spot from his repeated abuse.

“Earth to Max,”

Max registers the palm waving right in front of his eyes with a jolt, blinking away the bleariness of his eyes. He raises his head to find George looking at him, a hint of worry leaking through the friendly smile he’s sporting.

“Huh?”

“I said, you’re welcome to crash here for the night. If you want.”

Max’s face is alight at the mere prospect of spending the night in George’s room, and it must show if the teasing glint in George’s eyes is anything to go by.

“Mate, why would i crash on your couch when i have my own bed just downstairs?”

George chuckles and shrugs. “You can take the bed.”

Max arches a questioning eyebrow. “Why would you take the couch when you have a perfectly comfortable bed to sleep in?”

George laughs loudly this time, nudging Max’s side as he does so. “I’m a gracious host, not a doormat. The bed is big enough for two grown men and then some.”

Max’s heart leaps to his throat. George Russell might just be the death of him.

“You’re serious?”

George shrugs noncommittally, as if he didn’t just offer his colleague and rival racer to sleep beside him in the same bed.

“Your call, Max.”

Max’s treacherous heart has already made its decision.

Max only hesitates for a moment, seeing George already settling under the covers on the left side of the bed, contemplating if taking his shirt and uncomfortable shorts would be too bold and strange. But he’s too exhausted to be hung up over it and decides fuck it before divesting himself of his shirt and shorts till he’s only left in his boxers, just like George. George would have no right to complain since he brought it upon himself, and of course he doesn’t look like he’s even thinking of complaining as he watches Max tentatively getting into bed.

The distance between them is a chasm, further widened as they both curl up on their sides and face each other. George’s chin is tucked under the sheets, mouth hidden beneath them, but from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes Max can tell he’s smiling.

Max suddenly feels like a kid again, having a sleepover with a friend. Sharing a bed, fighting the urge to giggle for absolutely no actual reason other than the lack of burden in their company.

George’s company lifts the weight off Max’s shoulders, just a little, and he finds himself fighting a grin, a little incredulous at this whole situation. It’s George who breaks first, shaking with suppressed laughter, before Max ends up giving in and joining.

It’s a strange sight; two grown men giggling like children, sleeping in the same bed, facing each other. The distance between them feels lesser now, though neither have shifted closer.

“Feels like I’m back to our karting years again.” George says.

He’s resting his head on his hand, wrist exposed. Max’s eyes are wired to look, mirth dimming the slightest bit as he sees that same inked tree for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah.” Max says, wistfully. “Feels a little silly.”

“Silly’s good, sometimes.” George says, quieter now.

Max’s eyes turn to look into his. Everything about George is infinitely softer under the yellowish dim glow of the lamp which is still on. Max’s fingers itch with the urge to rake through George’s bangs. They’ve gotten quite long, the curls almost reaching his brows.

“It is.” Max says, clenching his hands into fists under the sheets to stop himself before he can do such a thing.

“G’night, Max.” George says, twisting his body towards the nightstand to turn off the lamp.

“Night.” Max mutters, burying himself deeper into the comfort of the sheets, letting his eyes fall shut with the darkness now sheathing the room.

He has the best sleep he’s had in a long, long time.

Funny story, this will have one more part aha. Welp :pp i rly am just going with the flow. Let’s see where Gax take me! Originally i thought this would be angstier but as always i’m just not very good at that lol this was pretty fluffy. But wtv Gax deserves happiness! They deserve fluff!!!! Ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed hehe <33

#f1 rpf #fanfic #gax #george russell x max verstappen #formula 1 #formula one #george russell #max verstappen #george x max #russtapen #george/max #george russell/max verstappen #soulmate au #soulmate identifying marks #part 2 #buildarocket fic

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posallys · 6 months ago

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9!!!!! for percabeth ofc

it is definitely not less than 350 words, but that's a win for me given how little I've written of late. <3 send me a prompt!!! ________

9. "When was the last time you slept?"

“When was the last time you slept?”

Percy raises an eyebrow at her, his picture grainy through the shroud of mist in their room.

She taps her fingers against her chin, shrugging at him. A few days, maybe. However long it’s been since they were woken up in the middle of the night to an IM from Grover, a too-quick explanation of a problem Zeus himself needed Percy to solve (at this point, Annabeth is beginning to think that Percy is just the only demigod who’s name he knows), and a sincere apology directed towards both of them, but the look attached to it was aimed more pointedly at Annabeth.

She hoped that her response—or lack thereof—didn’t give it away to him. But it did, of course, and his face falls quickly into an expression of concern.

“Annabeth,” he says, his eyes searching hers.

“Percy,” she says back, trying for something akin to teasing—he doesn’t laugh. She continues, “I’m fine, really.”

It’s not that she hasn’t tried to sleep, but sleep hasn’t been coming to her easily. Quests are few and far between these days, now that they’ve finished school and the two of them have regular, normal jobs and get to act like regular, normal people—sometimes, Annabeth finds herself forgetting about the mythical world altogether, getting lost in the sort of mundanity they’ve found—but that feeling of simplicity never lasts. Just when she feels like it’s going to, without fail, some deity or another pops up requesting a service.

(Annabeth is building up the courage to outright tell them no one of these days, but for now, it’s easier to say a begrudging yes.)

Percy gives her another look, and she thinks that if he looks at her like that for a moment longer she might start crying with frustration.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind with work, and you being halfway across the country being some gods’ bitch doesn’t exactly help,” she gets out.

That earns a small smile from him; the god in question is not lost on either of them.

“I should be home soon,” he says. “Maybe another day or two.”

Annabeth closes her eyes, nodding. She really is tired, but every time she begins to doze, she’s greeted harshly with nightmares of encounters both passed and theoretical.

“Annabeth?” He asks, and she blinks her tired eyes open. Percy purses his lips and reaches a hand out like he’s trying to touch her, but he pulls back before he can break the mist.

“We’re down for the night. I can stay on if you want to try to sleep?” He offers.

It’s not really what she wants—she wants them both to never have to do another quest, wants him in their bed with his arm around her waist and his stomach pressed against her back, wants to feel the steady in and out of his breathing and not have to worry about waking up only to find out that something bad has happened.

But it’s been days, and Annabeth’s sure that if she stays up any longer, her body will give out on her. So she nods at him and moves down to curl up on their bed.

Percy starts telling her about the quest—she can tell he’s leaving some things out for her benefit, but she doesn’t have the energy to scold him for it.

“Thankfully nothing too hard,” she hears when she’s almost asleep. She cracks her eyes open just a touch and sees him looking around at something outside of her view. “I’m going to try to be back by tomorrow.”

She hums in response, and she can hear Percy laugh softly on the other end, and then they’re both silent for a while.

Before she finally settles into sleep, she’s met with Percy’s voice once more.

“Goodnight, Annabeth. I’ll see you soon.”

When she wakes up, it’s to sunlight streaming through the window and several missed alarm notifications on her phone, but there’s an arm around her waist and a nose nudging her neck, and she decides that whatever she was supposed to do today can wait another few hours.

#omg i still (kind of) know how to write #it's rough but it's there!!!#taylor answers #writing prompt #ask tag #taylor tries to write #percabeth drabble

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junkdyke · 1 year ago

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GIRLIESSSSS i had a cute gay ass day!!

So me and my dyke (soon-to-be) roomie went to this queer market to check it out, and my tattoo crush and her gf just happened to be there too! Roomie and my Crush have already met bc when Crush still worked at my studio, Roomie came as a guest and we were the only 2 that could speak spanish and really chat with her <3 so the 4 of us ended up hanging out, i hadn't seen my crush and her gf since we went out of state together so i caught them up on all my girl-drama and work chisme, and talked about more travel plans for all of us to go tattoo together! Lots of spots and dates just got added to our calenders!!

then we went to the dyke event and AS IT TURNS OUT, this gay bar is right down the street from my workplace! I've been right next to it so many times and never knew it was there, so now I know where i'm gonna go with my other lesbo coworkers. Anyway, it was leatherdyke themed and the amount of fucking dykes that showed UPPPP it was actually overwhelming, the outdoor area was PACKED and there were sooo many hot butches jfc

we ended up staying mainly inside, me and my crush's gf danced and were the icebreakers for other girls to come over and fill the dancefloor. There was an older butch who came over to dance too and she looked sooo shy but was just vibing and eventually another girl got her to hop into the dance circle and we were hyping her up ugh she was so fucking cute and it was so fun! I got approached by this really short cutie, we danced, chatted, got to know each other, kissed, she was super sweet. At some point another girl came up and asked me where I got my shorts, so I tried to show her my tag LMAO and her friend, beautiful black girl with locs, leaned into my ear and told me I was gorgeous. I told her I loved her locs and TRULY i wanted to swap info with her but I didn't wanna be rude in front of the girl I was already talking to, so they wished up both goodnight and left BUT YANNOOOOO crossing paths, universe, w/e w/e

Anyway, Crush and her gf left a little earlier, and then Roomie needed to leave and I was her ride so we left along with the girl I met, and then my roomie was like "can we go to the dollar store?" cause she had never been lmfaooo so the 3 of us spent a fucking HOUR just grocery shopping and pointing out snacks and grabbing random stuff. Roomie ended up buying a bunch of stuff for her picnic tomorrow and a GIGANTIC unicorn balloon for her soon-to-be-girlfriend lmfaooo and we kept teasing about how gay it was. The girl I met got me flowers <333 And she offered to drive us to where my car was because she "was just looking for an excuse to spend more time with me", so we did and then I asked if I could give her a goodnight kiss, and it was a very very nice lil makeout, while my friend waited outside with her balloon LOL. SO fun, I felt cute, saw so many hot people, reminded me of what's out there, reminded me to be more confident with approaching people, informed me that lesbians DO leave their house and while we still don't have many designated lesbian bars, we do have a nice array of lesbian events. AMAZING dyke energy <3 <3 <3

#i really needed a night like this #im so glad #mine #personal #wlw #lesbian dating #lesbian #dykeposting

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frogofalltime · 11 months ago

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06.02.2024

as i am no longer taking adhd meds this is not a medication diary anymore but it has been helpful for my mental health to write about my day like this so i will continue it with a new tag :)

i slept very badly; i didn't fall asleep until very late and i kept waking up in the night having weird dreams.

i had to get up at 7:30 which was really hard but i did it. i ate breakfast and got ready and i was two minutes late for my 9am class but it's okay, the most important thing is that i went. i only wrote two lines of notes on the lecture though.

then immediately after that lecture i had a 3-hour long lab class. i did Not have a good time: i was so tired and the lab is so overstimulating even in the best of times, so i was really struggling. i also was very hungry, i think my body is catching up on the food it missed out on last week, so i went out of the lab for a few minutes to eat a snack and tried to mentally recover before i went back to continue working.

as soon as lab was over i had yet another lecture. thankfully this is the class that i have with @etherealspacejelly (seeing robin always cheers me up even if it's the worst day ever). it was just revision of some stuff we learned last year so it wasn't too hard but i was so tired that i just couldn't wait to get out of that room.

finally after 5 hours of back to back classes i finally could take a break. i went to the house where all my friends live to eat my lunch which i had left in the fridge there yesterday, and then i accidentally fell asleep on the sofa for an hour.

when i woke up we had to go to another class and by now i was Not feeling well at all. i had a headache, i was hungry again, i felt overwhelmed, and i just wanted to sleep. i spent most of the class with my head on the desk trying not to have a meltdown.

when that was finally over my friend tried to talk to me but i was unable to speak. i've struggled with this my whole life because i am autistic and i have situational mutism (?) but recently this has been happening every day. i left without saying goodbye and went home and stared at the wall for an hour because i felt like i was going to have a meltdown or cry or throw things around while screaming.

eventually i forced myself to get up and make myself some food and that helped a lot. i ate while reading percy jackson. by the time i had finished eating, i felt much better, though i still couldn't speak to my flatmate when she came in to the kitchen.

i washed my dishes and took a shower (which was very overstimulating, idk why showering has become even harder for me recently, and it was already difficult enough). i considered going to bed but it was only 8pm and i didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night so i decided to do some art instead.

drawing and creative things always improve my mood, but i often don't have the energy to do it, so i'm glad i was able to do that tonight. after that i was feeling hungry again. i was unwilling to eat Again because i already had eaten 3 meals and one snack and eating more than one "treat" food per day is against the Rules. but i know my body wouldn't ask for food if it didn't need it so i made myself some toast with nutella and seeds and i also had some grapes. it was very nice, my favourite kind of food, and i am proud of myself for letting myself eat it.

then i washed my plate and realised i had forgotten to take my antidepressant meds this evening, so i took them when i went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

now i am in bed and i feel a lot better than i did all day. sometimes i guess i need some rest, a lot of food, a creative outlet, and some Autism Time, otherwise i turn into an insane little creeture.

goodnight everyone, i hope tomorrow is better <3

#binya of the day #< that's my new tag for these :)#because medicated binya doesn't make any sense anymore

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littlerainyghoul · 1 year ago

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Aether trying to put a fussy little dew to bed...sounds like fun lol

Do you think you can write a fic about this?

yeah sure! of course!

I love writing regressed dew, and I think him being fussy fits his personality so well! Thank you for the request!

Without futher ado:

1am shenanigans

Summary: It’s 1am, and a tired Aether is trying to put the very energetic regressed fireghoul to bed.

words: 900

Pairings: Regressed Dewdrop, Caregiver Aether, also brief appearance of Cirrus

The fire ghoul spurled around the room, his body wriggling and gleaming with energy as he chased around the laser pointer Cirrus was playing with around the ghoul common room. He had the been chasing the laser for hours before, and the energy of the ghoul came to no end as he bounced around the room.

“Deww! Its time for some shut eye! It’s 1 am dear” Aether's voice rang out in the ghoul common room, laced with nothing but concern for the fire ghoul. He stepped in front of the energetic rascal, his body exuding a presence of gentle calmness.

"But....Aefey! I don't want to go to bed! I'm not tired" Dewdrop whine, disappointment lingering in his eyes, his nose scrunched in disgust at the idea of being put to bed.

“I know, little firefly, but don't you want to wake up and have the energy to play tomorrow?" Aether spoke, as he gestured to Cirrus to put away the laser pointer.

”Aether is right, you know, I think it's time for us to go to bed“ Cirrus spoke, her voice croaky from all the laughter she passed in the past couple of hours.

”Not tired! Cirrus! Please can we play some more?" Dewdrop shot his words, as he pounced in the air and crossed his arms.

“None can do, kid” Cirrus spoke as she yawned “I'm off to have my evening shower, see ya in the morning Aeth! Goodnight little one!“ she cooed the last part to Dewdrop.

”We need to calm you down, firefly" Aether whispered.

“Aeth, five more minutes? I really want to run around! It's so fun!"

"Nope, all the other ghouls went to bed. Now would you be a good boy for me? I'll tuck you in if you behave" Aether spoke, slight irritation lingering in his voice.

Dewdrop's lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, showcasing the classic sign of a pout. The smooth curve of his lips now held a hint of resistance, a silent protest against the unwelcome suggestion of sleep. Even his fiery aura seemed to flicker with a subdued intensity, mirroring the conflicted emotions etched across his expressive face.

“Please Dew?” Aether begged, his usual friendly and warm eyes tinted with exhaustion, and a hint of concern. "Why do you even want to stay up, anyway?"

"Not tired, Aethy" Dewdrop confessed.

Aether looked at Dewdrop, his eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and amusement. "Come on, firefly, bedtime is calling, and even the laser pointer needs its beauty sleep."

Dewdrop's eyes widened at the mention of the laser pointer, torn between the allure of play and the idea that Aether used his emotions like that.

Aether chuckled, "You know, if the laser pointer could talk, it would probably be saying, 'Enough, Dew, I need a break!'" He mimicked a high-pitched, imaginary voice, eliciting a giggle from Cirrus.

Dewdrop, caught off guard by the unexpected humour, let out a small laugh but still looked reluctant. Aether seized the opportunity to continue the banter. "Besides, if you stay up all night, you'll turn into a nocturnal ghoul, and I'm not sure the others are ready for that."

Cirrus, who turned back from entering her room, joined in, "Yeah, Dew, imagine waking up to find yourself surrounded by sleepy ghouls trying to get ready for the day while you're bouncing off the walls."

The thought seemed to amuse Dewdrop, and his resistance waned as he envisioned the comical scenario. "Okay, okay, I guess I don't want to be the only ghoul wide awake when everyone else is snoring," he conceded with a grin.

Aether seized the moment, "That's right, firebug" Now, let's make bedtime a grand adventure. I'll even tell you a story about a mischievous fire ghoul who learned the importance of a good night's sleep."

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Aether led Dewdrop towards his bedroom. It glowed with the warmth of red and gold hues, evoking the essence of dancing flames. Adorned with tapestries and artwork depicting swirling fire motifs, the room's focal point was a bed with crackling ember-patterned sheets and flame-carved headboard. In a cozy corner, a lava lamp added a mesmerizing touch, its molten wax mimicking the fluid movement of lava, casting a dynamic play of light.

Dewdrop climbed into the bed, as Aether threw some blankets on his body, as he tucked in the ghoul.

"Cosy, my love?" Aether cooed softly, as he tuned on the lavalamp.

“Bed time story, please?” Dewdrop asked

"Absolutely, my little Dewcifer" Aether replied with a tender smile, the warm glow of the lava lamp casting a soft radiance across the room.

As Dewdrop nestled into the crackling ember-patterned sheets, Aether began to weave a bedtime story, his voice a soothing melody that harmonized with the gentle flicker of the fiery-themed bedroom. The tale unfolded like the dance of flames, carrying Dewdrop into a world where fire ghouls embarked on enchanting adventures beneath the starlit canopy. The lavalamp's liquid glow echoed the story's rhythm, creating a tranquil ambiance that embraced them both in the comforting warmth of the fire-themed haven.

He softly carressed Dew's cheek, as Dew softly purred while the quintessential ghoul recounted his story. As Aether continued his tale, the bond between them deepened, and the room became a haven where the warmth of the story and the glow of the lava lamp melded into a soothing lullaby, cradling Dewdrop in the arms of sweet dreams.

#regressed ghouls #agere #eepy #ghost band agere #papa emeritus iv #agere fanfiction #littlerainyghoulwrites #safe for work #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #regressed dewdrop #cg aether #dewther

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bangtaninborderland · 2 years ago

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JHS - Twisted Feelings (9)

Summary: After working at an award show for 2 years everything had become normal, idols were no longer exciting to see, performances became dull and every day blended together, that was until an unexpected man asked for your help.

Warning: mentions of threat, blackmail?

A:N: you can find a layout image of YNS apartment at the end! Just for easier reading I’m marking any English in ITALICS, I wasn’t going to update BUT I had a little free time I leave to see yoongi next week so this will probably be the last update until I’m back!

Ch.08| Masterlist | Ch.10

When you got home it was dark, you ate, showered and climbed into bed. You were intent on turning your phone off for the night, wanting to disconnect from the world but the reminder that Hobi had asked you to let him know you got home safe stopped you.

You reached across the bed to grab the device, bridging up his contact chat.

YN: got home safe, thank you.

HS: You don’t have to thank me, did you eat?

YN: Yeah, did you?

HS: I did, had a luxurious pot of ramen.

YN: wow you really live the rich life.

HS: only the best of the best, nothing beats the reduced section in the convenience store. 🍜

YN: I’ll have to try it someday. 🤞🏻

YN: oh no

HS: What’s wrong?

YN: I still have your shirt I was planning to return it today but with all the drama it slipped my mind, I’ll give it back tomorrow I’m so sorry.

HS: Keep it.

YN: I couldn’t do that, it’s far too valuable.

HS: I eat cheap sale section ramen, I don’t have much a care about money nor the value of possessions. I liked the shirt, I brought it, I wore the shirt, you needed the shirt, I gave it to you.

YN: I don’t like taking things from people.

HS: You’re too much like Yoongi Hyung. Don’t think about it too much, if I want the shirt back I’ll ask. For now, take care of it for me. Okay? :)

YN: okay, thank you. :]

HS: Im heading home now, I’ll see you tomorrow if we cross paths after your class with Jungkook. Go easy on him.

YN: I’ll try to! Go safely, Goodnight.

HS: Goodnight. 😇

You shuffled over onto your other side, shoving your phone under your pillow before wrapping the covers around yourself.

Today definitely had been one of the worst for a while, you had this sickening feeling. You’d only been working there a few days and so much had happened already, it made you really think about the things they would go through, the things they had been through the duration of their career thus far. Maybe you could ask Jungkook, he seemed to like you. Maybe Hoseok would tell you but you postponed the idea for now, the worry of upsetting them or seeming overly invested was probably a bad take right now.

You let yourself drift off, your brain reluctantly shutting off the thought of who could be threatening you. The dark boundless space of sleep provides you with some much-needed rest.

Or so you hoped.

Your alarm went off at 6 am, normally you’d groan and ignore it for a few minutes but today you were already awake, tracing patterns in the white walls after a restless night. Nightmares occupy your dreams, a faceless figure attacking you at your childhood home. Fitting for the current situation.

You dressed down today, black slacks and a black shirt to match. Not feeling interested in putting together an award-winning outfit, you were already exhausted there was no need to spend any extra energy on things that didn’t require it.

You were nearly ready when the faint sound of your phone vibrating stopped you, the initials JJK on the screen.

“Hello?” You picked up, resting the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you put your socks on.

“Noona?” Jungkook called, it sounded as if he was whispering. “Are you busy?”

“I’m getting ready to come in now, is everything okay?”

“Don’t come into the company, it’s really busy and there are reporters outside.” He explained you could hear voices in the back although you were unable to make out who.

You considered following his advice but decided against it, work is where you should be. “I should still come in, we are supposed to have a lesson today.”

“We can still have it, I talked to the managers and they agreed it’s okay to have it at vision.”

“What’s that?” You checked through your bag, making sure you had everything necessary to teach.

“It’s somewhere we use a lot, it’s a cafe. The managers know the owners, it’s safe.” It makes sense why you’d never heard of it, cafes weren’t your go-to.

You hummed in response. Sliding your card into your purse. “Send me the address and I’ll get a taxi there.”

“It’s okay.” He laughed. “The manager can pick you up, they said we will go past your address anyway.”

His voice sounded different through the phone, if you hadn’t seen him face to face before you’d never pictured he looked the way he did. His bright eyes and soft expressions not matching the rough voice he had. It was most likely from their recent rehearsals, you’d known other idols to lose their voice especially when rehearsing for a tour. “Sure, just send me a text when you’re downstairs and I’ll come right out.”

“Sounds good, bye Noona.”

“Bye.” You dropped your phone at the sound of the call ending, you wouldn’t have enough time to eat breakfast but admittedly that was your fault. Besides, it’s not like Jungkook would mind you eating at the cafe - well you hoped. You still found yourself feeling unsure at the lines between you all. You were a staff member and technically they were your boss or at least they were more valued, what they wanted was what you give them, that is if you want to keep your job.

You finished up both your hair, skincare and make-up in 25 minutes which definitely was a new kind of personal record, you knew you had unanswered messages from NaRae but she would understand that things in your life had picked up suddenly.

The only call you were waiting on was from Jungkook so when your phone went off you were positive it was him, not even glancing at the name before accepting.

Deep breaths filled the line, almost as if someone had been running for an extended period of time. You pulled it back only to see a no-caller ID message.

“Who is this?” You weren’t one to get scared easily but this was different, you felt too aware even more so when the heavy breathing was the only response given to you. “Hello? I asked who is this?”

The voice was distorted giving you no clues to their identity. “Stay away from them.” You didn’t ask who, you knew what it was about, running over to your windows you looked around.

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary you put the phone back to your ear, perching yourself on the kitchen stool. “I don’t know who you are but this has to stop, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You’re a liar, I don’t know why they would employ you. What if I told them about Jung-woo.” You felt your heart drop at the name you hadn’t heard for years, the incident being one of your most traumatic. “I know all sorts of things about you. I want you to help me find all sorts of things too. When I call you better answer or I’ll make sure everyone knows about you.”

You didn’t have time to respond before the call was over, you didn’t know if you had the ability to. You hadn’t heard that name in years, distant memories from your childhood creating an unsettling storm without you.

You wanted to call Narae, tell her about it, try to figure out who knew and how but you didn’t have time, you watched the familiar black car pull into your building and a text notification light up your screen.

JJK: outside Noona.

YN: coming!

You weren’t sure if you could make it to the car without throwing up, you’d never felt more regret about work. Your sullen face was a deep contrast to the grin Jungkook was wearing, clearly in a good mood.

You greeted both him and the manager as you got into the backseat of the car your seat beside the singers, you noticed your hands shaking as you clipped on the seatbelt but still forced a smile. “How are you today Noona?”

“I’m fine. I thought we could take a simple English test today it’s an online one and it will allow me to see where we should start. Do you know the alphabet?” You tried to seem as professional as possible even with your worried mind.

The younger laughs, nodding. “I know the alphabet I’m not that far behind.”

You laughed with him, yours much more half heated than his. “It’s important for me to know, it’s like someone learning Korean without knowing Hangul. It wouldn’t work.”

“I suppose so, although you could still learn the meaning of words and how to say them through videos.” He countered, his head resting against the window.

“Ah but imagine how much easier it would be if they learned Hangul and then could read and pronounce them without the videos. You won’t be able to watch videos on stage which is why it’s good to understand and be able to speak even basic English.” You explained, folding your fingers against themselves.

“I guess but is there like an easy way that I can become really good at it? I want the hyungs to be surprised.” You found his take endearing, you could see from your position that they were all close. “It must be fun to know English.”

“It’s become very normal to me now, I do prefer doing everything in Korean though.” It was much easier, even if you did have an extensive understanding of the English language.

“Can we talk in English?” He was so excited and it was your job to indulge them in any teacher matter, you smiled at him and nodded. Your brain seemed to filter out once you said hello in English.

You wanted to take notes but the bumpy car ride would have made them a mess so instead you formed a mental diary ready to take note of his current abilities. “What are you doing today?”

“I am taking class for studying English!” You loved his enthusiasm, his accent a clear mix of false American and Korean. “With teacher.” He tacks on.

You giggle at his grand gesture to you. “Good! Now can you tell me your favourite things?”

“I like…” he trailed off looking around for something to point out. “Oh, I like art!” He pointed out the window to a mural that had been painted along the side of a building. “I wish I could get out and take pictures” he mumbled in Korean, a sadness to his tone.

“Why, we can ask to stop?” You continued in English.

He shook his head. “No, busy, lots of people can look.” It was clear English wasn’t the most difficult for him, seeming to have a good grasp of the language, certain letters could be pronounced softer but somehow his choice of tone fit his personality. The exposure to it whilst they spent time overseas definitely had helped give them an advantage when it came to learning. “Unsafe.”

“Maybe you could come back later at night and take some?” You hoped your solution fixed his dulled excitement but it just drew a deep sigh from him.

“I guess.”

“Do you ever feel like you miss things?” You couldn’t stop yourself before the question was out. “Don’t answer that if you feel uncomfortable I’m sorry if that was over the line.”

He rushed to answer. “No no it’s fine, I don’t like to be sad because I’m privileged. I get to experience so many wonderful things and meet so many wonderful people but sometimes I wish I enjoyed the simple things in life, taking a walk on the street, going for a meal, going to see a movie.”

You could understand the wish, it was simple and yet for someone who had so much money and the ability to do so many extraordinary things there were so many simple ones that he just couldn’t have. Things money couldn’t buy. “I can’t relate to it but I do understand. It’s okay to feel sad about things though, sad emotions are okay as much as thankfulness.”

He gave you a nod. “I can see why Hobi Hyung likes you so much. You’re kind. We are here by the way.”

The sudden revelation threw you off, it was nice to be liked. It was a quaint area, there was no foot traffic. You could see why it appealed to the members. “It’s nice here.”

“Let me take the bag.” He held his hand out and you handed it over, thankful to give your shoulder a break from the weight, even if it was for a few minutes books are heavy. “You should try the cake they have here, it is so fresh.”

“They bake it fresh?” Many of the cafes in Seoul despite being trendy and cute usually had a funky taste, it was rare to find a fresh cafe.

“Fresh?” He looked at you for a few seconds before seemingly understanding what you meant. “Yes. It’s the best, I’ll buy us one for the trouble.” He laughs holding the door open.

True to his word - and your refusal - he brought you both cake and a coffee that was 3 sizes too big. The lesson had gone smoothly, Jungkook understood most things and tried hard to understand others. The earlier call dance around the outskirts of your brain, the distorted voice coming back now and again.

You knew you should tell the management but the threat of no name exposing something so private made you hesitant, instead you settled on calling NaRae once you got back home. The manager returned three hours later to pick you both up, dropping you off before taking Jungkook to the company. The younger explained that he had some work to finish.

You ran into the convenience store down the street, grabbing some snacks, gimbap and ramen. Dinner would have to be quick tonight, you’d already called NaRae who said she would come over right away after hearing your worried tone and you didn’t want to keep her waiting.

You arrived home, a knock following just after you’d taken your shoes off. You opened it to find a slightly tired-looking NaRae who offered you a plastic bag before stepping inside. “You look like you went to a funeral, why is your outfit so…sad?”

You ignored her comment brushing it off with an eye roll. “What’s this?” You peeked inside, slowing the door with your foot. “Food?”

“Dumplings.” She smiled, already reaching to grab chopsticks and bowls from the cupboards in your kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you had a great day I thought it would help. Go sit I’ll make it.”

“Oh, yeah thank you.” You handed the bag back over to her and took a seat at the table as she brought over the food, the smell already causing your mouth to water. “They smell so good.”

“So what’s wrong?” She sighed, picking up her own chopsticks.

“Someone called me today, they told me that I should quit.” You started out, wanting to gauge her demeanour before continuing.

She gave you a confused look, you always loved how she has the inability to mask her emotions with a straight face. Her open expression earned you both a few issues in the past. “Is that all? I thought someone had sent you a dead bird or something.”

You swallowed your food, scoffing lightly at her extreme take. “They knew about woosung.”

At the mention of the name, she choked on her food, her eyes widening at you. “How, Woosung? That’s confidential right?”

“No one knows. You haven’t told anyone right?” You question her sheepishly, your eyes trained on her food rather than herself.

Her hand reached across the table, her nails painted a sheer pink with flower decals on them. “I would never tell anyone about that, maybe it’s just a name they went with? Are you sure it’s not an old friend or even a distant family member?”

“Rae you already know the entirety of my family line, besides we both know I’m not the most popular.”

“I guess that’s true.” She sighed, you pinched her hand in response, not missing the undertone of her comment. “Ouch for one and have you told the company for two?”

You shook your head, releasing her hand. “No, I don’t want them to find that out. Do you think I should?”

“No absolutely not, that would damage your reputation. Do not bring this up to the company or the members okay?” Her eyes were wide, almost fearful.

You could understand why though, she knew the Jung-Woo story, anyone who knew the Jung-Woo story was fearful, especially for you.

— AN — (apartment floor plan)

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jsprnt · 1 year ago

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Healing Hearts PT.9 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: Hi loves! Sorry for the late post. I’ve been studying for exams I have this week and the next week and it’s been insanely time consuming. That’s also why I’m choosing to take a two week break from writing, I hope you guys will understand. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back with a banger. For now, enjoy this chapter <3

WC: 4.326

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I let go of the steering wheel as I arrive at the terminal, half slumping over it due to how tired I am. Rubbing my eyes lightly to not smudge my mascara, even though I knew that the moment I sat down in the plane I would be out cold and my make up would be smeared. Thankfully, I could use all my energy on driving carefully and properly.

I groan, cursing the scheduling staff for planning a flight with the team at seven in the morning. The match against LASK would take place tomorrow evening, so why the rush?

I grab my small suitcase filled with all the essentials I would need over the course of the next two days. I throw my handbag over my shoulder, actively trying to avoid the September sun, beaming into my tired eyes while locking my car.

I turn around walking towards the small private plane terminal. The wind had picked up since I left my home, making me feel like my suitcase weighed a million pounds. I place my hand above my eyes, looking down at the floor as I continue walking.

"Lookin' tired doctor."

I turn around abruptly, eyes meeting a cheery Robbo.

"Hm slept way too little." I respond, zero energy in my voice. He walks up next to me, a comforting smile on his face while he pats my shoulder.

"Sleep on the plane. Four hours should be good enough doctor."

"That was exactly my plan." I mumble a small smile cracking on my face, continuing to walk beside him. Pulling my suitcase behind me.

It had been about a week since the guys had come back from international duty. The away game against Wolves last Saturday was an amazing way to start again, with a 3-1 for Liverpool.

I had totally been busy with injuries lately, working on the recoveries and planning that came with them. Ibou could start tomorrows game thankfully. I still had to work with Trent on his injury, but I had full faith in his recovery.

Things between me and Virgil had been- normal. He'd joined the team on the away game, showing support to the guys even when he was suspended.

Thinking about that £100.000 fine he had received had me sweating just at the thought of having to pay. Expensive things and prices weren't that foreign to me, but having to spend that amount on a fine had me shocked. I had teased him about it, telling him he could abstain from buying a new super car that week. He had given me an annoyed look, as he continued to run faster on the treadmill during one of our appointments. I had never laughed at him that hard before.

He had brought up our conversation in his car after the appointment, urging me to not keep problems to myself again. I had waved him off with a smile, telling him I'd be fine. Truly, I hadn't lied. Everything had been going fine so far, no calls and no messages from him. I had just been living my life as normal as possible.

The week without Virgil had been a busy one, me being fully engrossed with work and everything. Both the paperwork and recovery of Trent and Ibou consuming most of my time.

The messages from Virgil were the only thing keeping me sane as I worked from morning to the evening. I couldn't lie, going to bed after reading a sweet goodnight message was something I really missed experiencing. That week had blessed me with the best sleep I'd ever gotten since I had moved to Liverpool.

We walk into the terminal, seeing all the familiar faces making me realize I had to actually socialize, instead of trying to sleep standing upright. We both walk through security quickly, being done within a couple minutes.

"I'm sitting." I mumble quickly to Robbo. I greet the people I walk past curtly, making my way over to the lounge, walking up to the very comfy looking seat.

I plop down, head down as I lean back into the chair. My handbag placed, on my lap. I close my eyes, sighing to my self at the peaceful feeling. Though sadly, that peace is broken by a hand tapping my arm lightly. I open my eyes, ready to yell at the person, but my mood changes as I am greeted by a hand holding out a warm cup of coffee. My eyes trail up the arm of the person, tired eyes meeting with Virgil's.

"Oh it's you." I mumble, squinting slightly due to the sun beaming through the glass panels. "Yes it's me. Disappointed?" He replies, a small smile on his lips.

"Very disappointed." I tease my voice tired, arms folded on my chest as I shake my head at him. He raises a brow, clicking his tongue before pulling the cup of coffee away from me.

"See, I saw you that looked tired and got you some coffee, but since you're disappointed by seeing me-" I chuckle at him, extending my hand to grab the cup of hot brown liquid. "I'm kidding, of course I'm happy to see you." I tease, taking a sip of the coffee. He sighs, looking at me with an annoyed but amused look.

He takes a seat beside me, as I sip on the coffee. The caffeine is either going to keep me up or give me the worse headache known to mankind in the next hour. I slump back in my chair, feet off the ground as I sway them a little.

"Why are you acting like you barely slept?" He asks, leaning closer. I lift my arm, putting it above my eyes in a comforting way. "Cause I barely slept like five hours." I mumble, a soft huff leaving my lips.

"Why? You were off pretty early yesterday."

"You'll either call me an idiot or laugh." I sigh before continuing. "I woke up in the middle of the night after dreaming- well having a nightmare about losing my passport." I explain, arm still placed on my head. "So- I woke up panicking. I immediately started looking for my actual passport and couldn't find it. Which lead me to turn my entire apartment upside down and a panic attack until I realized I had placed it into my handbag." I pull my passport out of my handbag, waving it at him. He doesn't spare a second before he's laughing as loud as he can, way too loud this early in the morning.

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious." I grumble, a little embarrassed at the attention he's drawing. "Stop laughing- you're making my head hurt." I mumble.

He clears his throat before turning to me again. I lift my arm and look at him, seeing the most beautiful smile on his face. My eyes travel down to his tatted arms, getting practically lost in the pretty designs.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he's stopped by the announcement of us being allowed to board. I groan, squeezing my eyes fully shut for a moment before standing up along with Virgil. He pulls his training fleece on, following me out.

The overly tired girl stands up, grabbing her handbag as Virgil walks alongside her. He observes her slumped and tired looking frame, feeling a slight thump in his heart. He didn't like seeing her mood so down.

He reaches out to her and grabs her handbag, her head moving to the side and up to look at what he's doing. His hand now clinging onto her handbag.

"Let me hold it- looks heavy." He mumbles, his hand coming to rest in between her shoulder blades in a comforting manner. She doesn't react, exhausted and slightly slumped forward as she practically lets him guide her towards the plane.

Both are unaware of the gossiping and teasing looks exchanged in between the other Liverpool players.

The cold winds blow past them, making them slow their pace significantly before stepping into the plane and taking their seat, next to each other. She slides into the window seat, head already slumped against the soft cushion of the luxurious seat. He sits down after putting his belongings up, her handbag placed on the small table-like space in between their seats.

They take off a while later, but Virgil taps her shoulder, taking her out of her tired trance.

"Hm? What's wrong?" She asks, turning slightly to face him. "Here, drink this and go to sleep." He says, handing her a bottle of water. She raises a brow, grabbing the bottle and taking a few gulps.

"I don't know if I want to sleep now." She mumbles, standing up to remove her phone from her back pocket. "Why? You still look tired."

"Yeah but-" she begins looking into his brown eyes. "Do we have wet wipes on the plane?" He looks at her confused, wondering why she'd need them. "I'll be back." she says. Walking away as he's looking back at her confused.

She walks back not even a minute later, wet wipes in her hand as she sinks back into her seat. She starts wiping off the make up that was quickly applied that morning.

"You're wiping your make up off to go to sleep?" He asks, looking at her intently. "Yeah, these white seats won't look pretty nor will my face." She jokes, running the wipe along her cheeks. Carefully removing the last of her eye make up before turning to him. "Can you look if all the mascara is gone?" She asks, moving her face close, so he can see.

Virgil stares at her, taking in the beauty of her bare face, realizing he'd never seen her without make up before, this time she was fully bare faced. "The make up? Yes, I think it's all gone." He replies, a breathlessness in his normally deep voice.

She smiles, moving back to sit in her seat comfortably. "Thank you for checking." She discards the used wipes. She can feel her head staring to hurt and places her head back on the soft cushion, a yawn leaving her lips as her eyes become droopy, her exhaustion taking over and pulling her into a slumber. Soft snores making it obvious she was in need of a nap.

The athlete notices the snores, chuckling at the physio sleeping peacefully next him. Staring at her for a moment, tracing her beautiful features with his eyes.

He notices her shiver, and tugs his training fleece off, leaving him in his T-shirt and draping it on her sleeping figure.

He notices his teammates loud banter from across the aisle, hearing them joke loudly brings a smile to his face. He glances back at y/n, noticing her stirring, half awake. He reaches out, placing a hand on her arm and trying to calm her down.

"It's just the guys, go back to sleep hm?" He whispers tenderly, and her eyes close again. He watches her fall back into a slumber, and returns to watching his show he had selected earlier. He'd send a glare to the younger guys when they'd get too rowdy, telling them to calm down just incase they'd wake their physio up. Glancing at her sometimes to check on her.

A quiet "Sorry Virg" sent to him after he would glare. Virgil unaware of the fact that his teammates were gossiping about their way too obvious captain. Making up stories and betting on ways he'd finally confess to their beloved physio.

I open my eyes, squinting at the sunlight beaming through the window, noticing a jacket on my lap. I fix some of my hair and look at Virgil who looks totally invested into the show he's watching. I look at his bare arms and realize he must've placed his jacket on me while I was asleep. Making me feel warm at the thought. I reach over to nudge him, he turns his head immediately, removing his earphones.

"Oh you're awake."

"How long did I sleep?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes. He checks the time on his screen. "About two hours."

"Really? I was out for two hours?" I gasp.

"Yeah, I just let you sleep because you looked so peaceful." He says, staring at my slightly disheveled form. I can feel my face flush, so I decide stand up, grabbing my handbag and telling him I'll freshen up. I walk past him, sighing to myself as I walk down the aisle to the toilet.

I stare at myself in the mirror, thankfully I didn't look that bad, though my eyes were definitely puffy. I wash my face and fix my appearance a little, pulling down the soft white top I'm wearing since it had ridden up a little while asleep.

I walk back into my seat, plopping down and staring at the screen Virgil was watching, he notices, taking out one of his earphones and handing it to me with no words exchanged. I smile at him, accepting it as we continue to watch the show together.

I watch as the guys train, the sun had gone down a while ago in Linz, the sky pitch black with stars twinkling as I look up to admire them. The beauty of the sky in an open field was incomparable to the view of it in the big city, but both were amazing to look at.

I had been to Austria before, not necessarily stayed but visited it during a road trip me and my family went on when I was younger. We had traveled all around Europe for about three weeks. My parents had taken much-needed time off and decided traveling and seeing as many places as possible was the way to go.

I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of a whistle, realizing training had finally ended for the day. I tug my jacket on, chuckling at myself for being cold while all the players were drenched in sweat due to training. I watch as I see some of the players sit down on the chairs on the side of the pitch, and walk over to hand them some water.

"How are you even cold?" I hear Ibou yell, visibly tired. I laugh at him, handing him a bottle.

"Because I didn't go running throughout the entire field like you guys." I retort. "Besides I have low iron." I say, zipping up my jacket, hearing some players laugh. "Low iron yeah?" I hear Virgil say, smirking. "What? Can you let me live?" I say, hands on my hips while looking at him offended.

Our conversation- well bickering is interrupted as I turn my head to look at Dr. Woods, who's calling out to me, talking to me about the condition of some players.

Since Dr. Davis couldn't be here I would have to step in for him. This also meant I could join Dr. Woods on the bench as physiotherapist, making me feel super excited for tomorrows game. Finally, my bench debut would happen!

We arrive back at the fancy hotel, our luggage already brought up to our rooms. I was told I could take Dr. Davis'. So, I had my own private room I didn't have to share with any other female staff member, making me long for the comfortable silence and the big soft bed.

I walk along with some players, listening to them chat amongst each other. I reach into my jacket pocket, grabbing the chocolate snack I had stuffed into it, just in case. I had been craving sweets lately, undoubtedly an early sign of my period. I unwrap it, taking a bite before realizing I'm being watched by someone.

"What? I can't have low iron and a snack?" I ask Virgil. My eyebrows raised defensively as I take another bite, shaking my head at his judging expression. He raises his hands, jokingly surrendering with a smile on his face. "I didn't say a word."

"You've been on the doctors case a lot captain, give it a rest." I hear Robbo say as he puts his arm around my shoulders. I smile at him, as he tries defending me. "I know right he's being so rude." I say, as I start fake crying and Robbo laughings. I glance back at Virgil, seeing his expression drop for a moment, something flickering in his eyes.

"You've been teaming up with my teammates! What is this, no support for your captain at all!" He points to Robbo, but other players around us laugh, knowing they've joined me with teasing him. "Sorry lad, the doctor is the one helping me recover after I get injured. I don't want to be on her bad side." I smirk at him, holding back a laugh as we walk into the hotel.

I tell the guys goodnight as I get off the elevator on the level my room is. Walking into the hotel room, immediately walking over to check the view. The shining city lights making me admire them for a second before jumping into the shower.

I walk back out of the shower, bathrobe on as I plop onto the bed. Picking up my phone from the nightstand, realizing my friends had been ringing it. I press onto the missed call, their faces coming into view as I lift the phone closer to my face.

"Finally, miss sports physio called us back." I hear Monet say. I roll my eyes at her, leaning back and throwing my self fully onto the bed. "I was in the shower." I say, voice tired. "How was the flight?" Priya says. "Fine, I took a nap." I reply, running a hand on my face.

"You guys, she called me at two in the morning! Thinking she lost her passport, panicking for I think an hour, before realizing she put it in her handbag!" Jul shouts complaining about my late night call to her. I hear the others chuckle.

"Stop, it's not funny! I really thought I was fucked this time!" I whine. "You really need to stop overthinking, girl you used to always do that back in uni." Liz replies sternly. I groan at the tone in her voice, a scolding from her was always imminent.

I talk to them some more, before hanging up as I had to go to bed. I yawn, grabbing my suitcase and choosing my sleepwear. Changing as fast as possible and getting ready to finally rest properly.

I cheer as the referee whistles, clapping at the team's performance during the game. Liverpool had won 3-1 and I couldn't be prouder since they were on top of their table. The match was full of exciting moments like, Ryan's first assist for Liverpool and most importantly the final win. Not to mention, my first time being actively working on the pitch during a Liverpool match.

We walk back into the team bus, everyone tired but in a good mood. I pull out my phone, checking my notifications before clicking on the highlights of my childhood football club, who also had a match, the same time as us.

Despite only getting interested into football in my late teenage years, my dad always made it a point to teach me to love his childhood club. It was a generational tradition at this point. Since my dad is part Turkish, and was raised by my Turkish grandfather, he had to support the same Turkish football club: Fenerbahçe. It was one of the things that bonded me and my dad, at least a little.

"What are you watching? Highlights of what game?" I pause the video turning to Virgil. "My childhood club." I reply. "Fenerbahçe? Right you're part Turkish." He remembers, and I nod. "Think Galatasaray is better to be honest." He blurts, and glare at him. He really had to say that he liked my clubs biggest rivals in their league?

"Stop right now, I swear I'll never treat you again." I threaten, offended. "You're a little too fanatic- Okay I'll stop." He surrenders, a smirk on his face. I sigh, and return back to watch the video. "Oh they won, are you happy doctor?" He interrupts, again. "Yeah, my dad is so happy." I laugh, showing him the rare message my dad had sent in our family group chat.

I glance back at him, noticing him staring at me instead of the phone screen. I see him look away quickly, mumbling something about football making everyone happy. I can feel butterflies in my stomach, but I try to shrug it off, returning to finish watching the video. This time paying half the attention with my thoughts somewhere else.

We feel the bus park a while later, and we all walk out and go up to our hotel rooms. I wave everyone off, getting into my room, not feeling very tired, but remembering we had to get up at nine thirty this time, to get back to Liverpool.

I hear my phone ping as I'm watching TV on the couch, snacking on some candy and chocolate I had gotten this morning. I check my phone, seeing that Virgil had texted.

"Are you up y/n?"

I immediately feel butterflies in my stomach. What's with late text?

"Yeah, I'm up." I text, snapping a picture of the snacks on the table. "Craved some candy and a good movie."

He sends a funny sticker, also snapping back a video of him laying in his bed, might I add, shirtless. He pans the camera to show his own empty room, hearing his TV blare in the background. "Ohh so captain gets his own room?" I text, teasing him.

I smile to myself. If anyone else was in this room, they probably think I looked like a giddy teenage girl, texting her crush.

"What room are you in?" He replies, and my heart stops for a second. Why does he want to know that? Does he want to come here? I mentally panic before, getting it together and telling him what number.

"311 why?" I ask.

"You'll see." He replies, and I shoot up from my position. Is he actually coming to my room? At almost ten o'clock? I neglect texting back, running to my bathroom, fixing my hair and putting on some sweatpants underneath my oversized shirt. I take my time, just in time for a knock on the door.

I calmly walk up to the door, placing my head against the door to check through the peephole.

It's hotel staff?

I open the door carefully, sticking my head out of the opening. "Hello miss! Your room service." I stare at him for a second, tilting my head before it clicks. Virgil wasn't coming over to my room.

No, he'd ordered room service for me?

I open the door wider, allowing the man to bring in the food, he leaves shortly after and I close the door behind him.

I grab my phone off the couch, walking up to the food that was ordered for me. Two charcuterie boards; one consisting of all sorts of fruit and the another one full off savory snacks.

This was the sweetest thing someone had done for me in a long time, it making me a little emotional. Tears well up in my eyes at the thought. I couldn't tell if it was my hormonal cycle changing or it was due to the fact that I genuinely was so touched.

My phone pings with Virgil sending messages.

"Did you receive it?" He asks. "I thought this would be better than eating unhealthy snacks."

I feel a single tear drop down my cheek, replying with a picture of my crying face. "Wait, why are you crying? Do you do not like it?" He texts and I feel more tears fall down.

"No, it's so sweet that you thought of doing this." I reply, wiping away the tears on my cheek.

"Come on anyone would think of doing that." He says, and I laugh to myself. He was either way too oblivious or trying to be humble.

"No, seriously. You're so sweet, thank you." I reply, along with a sticker of a cute kitten. He sends a sticker back, before telling me to enjoy the snacks along with the movie.

I suddenly get an idea.

"Do you want to come over? I mean I couldn't finish all this by myself.” I ask, a little nerve wracked, fidgeting with my necklace.

"Are you sure? It's late, and we have to be up early." He replies.

"It's fine come down!" I text back, before dropping my phone on my bed and running to pull on some more appropriate lounge wear, this time knowing he'd come over for sure.

My phone pings a couple minutes later and I open the message. "I'm at your door." I read, before hearing a knock.

"I'm coming." I say, a little quieter too not wake up everyone on my floor. I swing my door open, revealing a very relaxed looking Virgil, in gray sweats and a black T-shirt. The dream combo, I hold back a laugh.

I notice how good his hair looked, his waves done neatly. Did this man just take his durag off or? His hair always looked freshly done, no matter what.

"Hey." He mutters. A pretty smile on his face.

"Hi." I whisper back, returning the smile as my dimples show. I step aside, making way for him to enter my room, and closing the door behind him.

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