#skilled physiotherapy

[van-skmugen]

Adventures ~ Fairytale

(Children's stories style)

[emblazons]

see what no one tells you about (possibly) moving to the largest city in the southern part of your state is that people will be charging 3x as much for lower quality shit than what you can get 60 miles away…while also being 3x more fake about it

[fireolin]

Thank you physiotherapists for existing.

[barelytolerabled]

Healing Speed and Soul

daniel ricciardo x fem!physiologistReader

summary: The McLaren team sought the expertise of a skilled physiotherapist, you, to tend to the physical well-being of their drivers. Little did they know, you would soon become more than just a healer, evolving into a vital source of emotional support for the drivers, especially Daniel Ricciardo.

Warnings: body shaming, ed

WC: 2k944

——————————————————————————

On your first day at McLaren, you nervously stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the team's headquarters. Team principal Zack Brown warmly welcomed you, introducing you to the dedicated mechanics, engineers, and other essential members of the McLaren family.

As you walked through the high-tech facility, you felt a mix of excitement and anticipation. The air was filled with the hum of activity.

Zack eventually led you to the heart of the team the garage. There, you found yourself face to face with the dynamic duo of McLaren, Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo. Lando, with his infectious enthusiasm, greeted you with a friendly smile, while Daniel, known for his trademark grin, extended a warm handshake.

"Hey there! Welcome to the team," Lando exclaimed, his energy contagious.

Daniel, with a twinkle in his eye, added, "Great to have you on board. We've heard you work wonders, hope you're ready for the challenge!"

You, feeling the warmth of their welcome, couldn't help but reciprocate the positive energy. Little did you know that beyond the world of physiotherapy, you were about to embark on a journey that would intertwine your life with the adrenaline-fueled existence of the McLaren drivers.

A few days into your tenure at McLaren, the intense rhythm of Formula One life began to settle around you. As the physiotherapist, you observed the drivers, Lando and Daniel, pushing themselves to the limits during practice sessions and briefings.

Recognizing the importance of maintaining their peak physical condition, you decided it was time for a comprehensive medical checkup. You approached Lando and Daniel with a plan to ensure their bodies were in optimal shape for the upcoming races.

"Lando, Daniel, I'd like to conduct a thorough medical checkup to ensure you're both physically prepared for the challenges ahead. It's crucial to address any potential issues before they escalate," you explained.

Lando, always eager to improve, nodded in agreement, "Sure thing, doc. Anything to stay at the top of our game!"

Daniel, with a playful grin, added, "I trust you've got the magic touch. Let's do it."

The medical examinations unfolded in the state-of-the-art McLaren facilities, with you meticulously assessing their fitness, flexibility, and overall health. As you worked, conversations flowed, revealing not only physical aspects but also providing insights into the drivers' mindset and emotional well-being.

In those moments, you realized the delicate balance between physical prowess and emotional resilience required in their life. Little did you know that your role would extend beyond the realm of physiotherapy, becoming a crucial pillar of support for Lando and Daniel as they faced the relentless challenges of the racing season.

In the quiet confines of your small office, it became evident during Daniel's medical checkup that he was neglecting his nutritional needs. You, observing the signs of under-eating, decided to address the issue directly.

"Daniel, I've noticed you might be skimping on meals. Nutrition is a crucial part of staying at your peak, especially in this demanding sport," you gently pointed out.

Daniel, usually vibrant, seemed quieter than usual. After a moment of contemplation, he simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Sighing, you grabbed your coat. "Come on, Ricciardo. We're going to fix this. I'm taking you for a proper meal, no excuses."

Leading the way, you and Daniel left the confines of the McLaren headquarters, embarking on a journey to ensure the Australian driver's well, being extended beyond the racetrack. Little did you know that this impromptu outing would mark the beginning of a unique bond, intertwining your role as a physiotherapist with a deeper connection to the personal lives of the McLaren driver.

Navigating the streets in the fading daylight, you led Daniel to your apartment. The confusion on his face was evident as he questioned, "Your place? Why are we here?"

Turning to him with a determined look, you explained, "Daniel, it's not just about making you eat; it's about making sure you eat right. I'll be cooking for you. Trust me, it's time for some proper nourishment."

Once inside your cozy apartment, you set about preparing a wholesome meal, the aroma wafting through the air. Daniel, still a bit perplexed, watched as you skillfully moved around the kitchen.

"You're really going all out. I appreciate it," Daniel admitted, a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

As you sat down to eat, you shared a smile. "Sometimes, a good meal can make all the difference, especially when the pressures of racing start taking a toll. Consider it part of my job to keep you fueled and ready for the season ahead."

As you shared the meal in your apartment, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Suddenly, breaking the quietude, you looked at Daniel and asked, "Who?"

Daniel, with a mouthful of food, raised an eyebrow, "Who what?"

Softly, you persisted, "Who made you think you shouldn't eat? There's something deeper here, Daniel. I can see it."

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Daniel hesitated for a moment. A mix of surprise and vulnerability flickered in his eyes before he finally spoke, "Well, it's just... the constant pressure, expectations, you know? Sometimes, it feels like I don't deserve a break, even for a decent meal."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the weight of the expectations that came with Formula One. "It's crucial to remember that taking care of yourself isn't a sign of weakness. If anything, it's a strength. You're not alone in this, Daniel. We're a team, on and off the track."

You, sensing there was more to Daniel's struggle, looked at him with a discerning gaze. "Are you sure you're telling me everything about that? Because Norris doesn't seem to have this issue."

Daniel hesitated for a few moments, glancing away before finally admitting, "Well, some people think I should be careful with food, that my weight isn't the best for racing. But yeah, little norris isn’t a problem like me for them."

A dry chuckle escaped your lips. "What a load of nonsense. Your performance on the track speaks for itself. You don't need to conform to anyone's unrealistic standards. It's about being healthy and fit, not fitting into someone else's idea of what a racer should look like."

Clearing the plates from the table, you took a decisive stance. "From now on, I'll bring you lunch, Daniel."

Daniel, trying to be polite, protested, "No, no, you don't have to do that, really."

You turned to him with a determined look, "Daniel, my role is to take care of you. Of course, I'm doing it, and you have no choice."

Concern crept into Daniel's expression, "But Zack makes me follow a strict regime. He can't know."

A disbelieving shake of the head, you retorted, "Zack agreed to this nonsense? Well, then it'll be our secret. Meet me in my office at lunch tomorrow. We'll eat together."

As the weeks passed, you continued your routine of preparing and bringing lunches for Daniel, meeting him in your office during race weekends. The aroma of home-cooked meals became a familiar presence, and whispers of camaraderie between you and Daniel began to circulate.

People couldn't help but notice the positive changes in Daniel, he seemed healthier, more energized, and perhaps even a bit happier. The bond that had formed between you and him extended beyond professional duties, creating a ripple effect in the team dynamics.

Colleagues started to see the genuine care and support you provided, not just in terms of physical well-being but also as a source of emotional strength for Daniel.

In the bustling atmosphere of the McLaren team lunch area, Daniel found himself with no choice but to join his teammates while eating the lunch you had prepared for him. Sitting across from Lando Norris, one of the team members jokingly teased, "Didn't know you knew how to cook, Daniel."

Daniel, taking a bite, replied honestly, "I'm not the one making it."

The teasing took an unexpected turn when the team member quipped, "What, you got a wife at home or something making you these?"

Daniel chuckled dryly, playing along, "Something like that, actually, yeah."

The laughter subsided when Lando, with a curious expression, raised an eyebrow, "And you think I could ask your 'wife' for one too? I've got a appointment with her this afternoon, pain in my back you know."

Daniel's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and realization dawning on him. "How do you know who's making me those lunchboxes?"

Lando leaned in, a knowing smile on his face. "She has the exact same lunchbox, mate. But don't worry, your and your "wifey" secret is safe with me. I'm aware of how tough the team can be on you."

Arriving home late, you were taken aback to find Daniel in your apartment, busy preparing dinner. "Daniel, what are you doing?" you asked, a mix of surprise and gratitude.

He gently helped you off with your shoes and coat, replying with a smile, "You've been doing so much for me, so I wanted to return the favor. Not promising a meal as good as yours, though." He chuckled and guided you to the dining table, ensuring you were comfortably seated.

"Daniel, it's actually my job to take care of you," you reminded him.

He sighed, placing your plates on the table, and took a seat in front of you. "And as your friend, it's my job too. Let's forget work, mmh?"

You smiled at him, grateful for the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, Daniel. This means a lot."

Mid-dinner, Daniel suddenly got up, exclaiming, "I almost forgot." He returned to the table with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Daniel, we work tomorrow," you reminded him.

He playfully interrupted, "Ah ah ah, what did I say? We forget work tonight, okay?"

You sighed, smiling, "Anything you want, Daniel."

With that, you clicked your glasses. The shared laughter and genuine connection over dinner marked a brief escape from the intense world you navigated together.

Relaxing on the couch after dinner, you and Daniel found yourselves immersed in easy conversation about anything and everything. As the night unfolded, Daniel slyly mentioned, "You know, I may have indirectly told the guys it was my 'wife' who prepared my lunchbox."

You raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. "Oh, is that so, Daniel? Well, get ready. I'll start leaving lovey notes on those lunchboxes of yours. Always dreamt of being a good wife to my husband."

They both burst into laughter, the shared humor lightening the atmosphere. In that moment, amidst the jokes and banter, you and Daniel found solace in each other's company.

Days later, on a day when you couldn't eat with Daniel, you slipped a small note into his lunchbox. It read: "Fuel for the race, but don't forget to savor the moments off the track too. You've got this! - Your wifey."

When Daniel opened his lunchbox and discovered the note, a wide grin spread across his face. During the team's lunch break, Lando noticed Daniel's amused expression and couldn't resist asking, "What's got you all smiles, mate?"

Daniel, holding up the note, chuckled, "Looks like I've got a secret admirer, leaving lovey notes in my lunchbox."

Lando leaned in, feigning surprise. "Oh, a secret admirer, huh? Got any idea who it might be?"

Daniel playfully rolled his eyes, "Come on, Lando, you know exactly who it is. She's making sure I eat well and stay in high spirits."

Lando, joining in the light-hearted banter, teased, "Well, aren't you lucky to have your 'wife' looking out for you? I hope she leaves some notes for me too."

Daniel, with a smirk, responded to Lando's teasing, "Keep dreaming, mate. It's my 'wife' making them laugh." The banter continued, and laughter echoed through the lunch area.

However, as Daniel glanced at your note and the warmth it brought, a subtle longing lingered. A part of him wished the playful joke about a secret admirer and a lunch-making 'wife' could transcend the realm of humor. Little did he realize that within the confines of the jokes, a deeper connection was slowly taking root, sparking emotions that stretched beyond the boundaries of mere camaraderie.

The 'wifey' joke continued to weave itself into the fabric of Daniel and your dynamic. Whenever Daniel passed by your office, he'd playfully inquire, "How's wifey doing?" Lando, ever the instigator, joined in, making insinuations that left the two of them chuckling.

Before crucial races, their banter took a unique turn. Daniel, often discussing strategy with Lando, would hear remarks like, "If I win, your wife better make me that famous lunchbox for me too." The playful commentary even spilled into interviews, with Lando winking at Daniel when asked about their favorite meals.

In one interview, when the interviewer queried about the drivers' preferred dishes, Lando slyly responded, "Well, it depends on who's making it, right, mate?" He wiggled his brows at Daniel, leaving the audience in stitches.

During a casual night in with your friends at your place, you packed two lunchboxes of the same meal you had prepared. Observing your actions, one friend raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Two? Planning to feed a small army or something?"

You chuckled shyly, "It's just for one of my patients."

Another friend, noticing the little notes signed 'wifey,' couldn't resist poking fun. "And those little notes signed 'wifey' are also for your patient?"

Laughing, you playfully scolded, "Hey! Put that down!" The room erupted in laughter, the friends enjoying the playful banter. Your lunchbox antics had become a source of amusement not just within the Mclaren garage but also among your close circle of friends.

——————————————————————————

Searching for Daniel in the garage, you found him with Lando. "Wifey," they both cooed simultaneously, earning a punch in the shoulder from Daniel to Lando. "Not you," Daniel clarified, prompting laughter.

"Be gentle, Daniel," you teased, handing him his lunchbox with a little note as usual. "Need to be taking care of an engineer during lunch, sorry." You side-hugged Daniel before turning to Lando, "Pole position, right, little Norris?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lando replied with a smirk.

You chuckled and handed him a lunchbox, saying, "Well earned. Keep going like that, Lando. I'm proud of you." Lando happily hugged you, expressing his gratitude. He then turned to Daniel with a mischievous grin, "Guess I also got a wife now, loser."

"Hell no, you don't, little mosquito," you laughed, playfully shutting down Lando's claim. With a quick exchange, you got back to work, leaving the two drivers with smiles on their faces.

——————————————————————————

The usual lunch hour arrived, but Daniel didn't show up at your office. Growing worried, you decided to search for him in the garage. Passing by Zack's office, you overheard Zack's cold reprimand, focusing on Daniel's weight.

Unable to bear it, you entered the office with determination. "It's my fault," Daniel began, looking at you with concern. "No, no, it's not her fault," he continued, addressing Zack, "You're right, Zack. I haven't been careful recently, and I'll change that."

You, however, halted Daniel with a stern gaze. "No, you won't."

Turning to Zack, you asserted, "Zack, as Daniel's physiologist, I took the liberty to ensure he's properly nourished because apparently he hasn't been before my arrival here. His well-being is my responsibility, and I won't let him compromise that for any unrealistic standards."

Zack's anger flared as he confronted you, "You knew about his strict regime, and you went against my orders!"

"Yeah, I did! I did, and if I had to, I'll do it again," you asserted, standing your ground.

Zack, visibly angered, sat up. "You know what you'll do? Pack your things, you're fired."

Daniel, attempting to mediate, approached Zack, "Zack, it's not her fault. She didn't mean to—"

Stopping Daniel with a raised hand, you interjected, "Stop, Daniel. I don't want to work for someone like him anymore anyway."

With those words, you turned away and headed to your office to pack your things. The air in the room hung heavy with tension, marking the end of your tenure at McLaren.

While you were packing, your focus interrupted by the sound of the door, you instinctively responded, "My office is closed, sorry."

"It's me," Daniel's voice cut through, and you turned around to see him standing there.

"Oh," you uttered, and without a word, Daniel opened his arms. You hurriedly approached, burying your head in his chest. "I'm so sorry wifey," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, Daniel," you mumbled into his embrace, finding solace in the midst of the tumultuous situation.

“What am I supposed to do without you at the garage now?" Daniel thought out loud, his worry palpable.

You chuckled sadly, "You could always still come to mine for lunch."

He couldn't believe it. Pushing you away a bit, Daniel questioned, "You just lost your job because of me, but you continue. Who are you?"

"Honestly? Just a girl who grew too close to her patient," you admitted.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Daniel looked at you with wide eyes as if connecting the dots. "You're too important for me to let people treat you like shit, especially when it's putting your health in danger," you explained.

His eyes widened, and it seemed like realization struck him. "Do you mean that—"

"Yeah, I love you, Daniel," you confessed.

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and doubt crept into your mind. Yet, before you could dwell on it, Daniel stopped your doubts. "Then it's good you got fired, else I couldn't have been able to do this."

He grabbed your face and kissed you. "Would your dreams be fulfilled with me as your husband?"

[mapiforpresident]

A Tender Homecoming

Alexia Putellas x reader

warnings: none

It was another busy day for you behind the screen of your computer finishing up a meeting and editing photos that needed to be finished the same day. As a sports photographer, you had a knack for freezing moments of triumph and camaraderie. Your incredible photography skills led you to land a job with the Barcelona women's team two seasons ago.

This was how you meet your now girlfriend of a year and a half, Alexia Putellas. Alexia was running really late to her first photoshoot of the day for the new kit when she had literally run into you, the new photographer, and had made you drop your brand new and very expensive camera. Alexia feeling really bad made sure to buy you a brand new one, and with the convincing of Mapi, eventually asked you out to "make-up for it."

Present time, Alexia was enduring a grueling day of physiotherapy appointments. A year and a half into your relationship, you understood the toll Alexia's injury had taken on her spirit. Despite Alexia's relentless determination, the frustration of not being cleared to play weighed heavily on her.

Throughout the day, Alexia found solace in the thought of returning home to you, craving the comfort of your embrace and the simple warmth of being together. The prospect of curling up on the couch, with your orange cat Simba nestled between you, was the just about the only thing she was looking forward to.

However, when Alexia finally arrived home, her anticipation was met with an unexpected sight. You were engrossed in your office, a serious expression furrowing your brow as you engaged in what seemed to be an important call. Disappointment gnawed at Alexia's heart, but she forced a smile, knowing how dedicated you were to your work.

"I'll just be a while longer, amor," you assured her, your voice softened with regret as she caught Alexia's eye.

With a nod, Alexia retreated to the living room, where exhaustion finally caught up with her. She sank onto the couch, Simba immediately curling up beside her, his purrs a soothing melody in the quiet apartment. Despite her fatigue, Alexia couldn't shake the pang of loneliness that settled over her.

Hours passed, the afternoon sunlight giving way to the soft glow of twilight, and still, you remained occupied in your office. It wasn't until the faint rumble of hunger caught your attention that you emerged, your gaze tender as you took in the sight of Alexia asleep on the couch.

Gently, you leaned down and brushed a stray lock of hair from Alexia's face, your touch feather-light as you leaned down even further to press a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, cariño," you murmured, your voice a gentle caress against Alexia's skin.

Startled awake, Alexia blinked up at you, a sleepy smile gracing her lips. "amor... did you finish all your work" she asked, her voice tinged with both relief and longing.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in Alexia's eyes, your own resolve crumbling in the face of your partner's unspoken needs. "I'm sorry that it took so long, mi amor, but yes, I'm finally done. Let me make it up to you," you whispered, her arms enveloping Alexia in a warm embrace.

Together, you laid in the comforting embrace of each other's arms, the anticipation of Alexia's favorite takeout easing the tension that lingered in the air. And as you watched the random show Alexia had been mindlessly watching before she feel asleep, you held onto Alexia a little tighter, knowing that in each other's arms, you would always find solace and sanctuary.

[photmath]

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: After the Storm

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: anxiety, self-doubt, miscommunication, cursing

Note: Aurie reminding us that even the most strongest and independent people have their moments of doubt and still need reassurance too.

Aurie isn’t in bed next to Kylian when he rolls over and feels for her. Maple is curled at his feet, snoozing with her tail covering her eyes. The sun shines brightly into the room, filling every crevice of the bed that he knows it’s way too early for Aurie to be gone. He listens quietly for the quiet patter of her footsteps, trying to figure out where she wandered throughout the house as she’s not in the restroom.

Scoffing, he rises and dresses himself with his boxers and a pair of shorts. They slept late last night, Kylian staying back to help Aurie break down the decorations of the nursing home, and then laying in a tangle of limbs in her bed. Once it hit two in the morning, they finally slept, after having spent the night together tracing and memorizing every sliver of skin they shared.

Kylian pats Maple’s head, causing her to open her eyes and purr, stretching out towards him. A small smile finds his face as he exits her room and searches for Aurie. Already he knows something is uneasy. The rest of the house reeks of cleaning supplies, drenched dirt, and there’s a low hum of music coming from her library. Thudding down the stairs, he turns towards the library and sees her dusting the bookshelf, a large stack of books on the small table, a second away from collapsing onto the ground.

“Aurie,” he mutters, noticing her in a short pair of night shorts and a loose shirt.

She spins around to face him, her cheeks flushed. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, walking closer to her. “No.”

“Sorry,” she smiles softly at him and then bends down to clean the bottom shelf. She grabs a book and haphazardly places a book on the ever-growing stack, it wobbles, and Kylian steps towards it, holding it.

“Aurie.”

“What’s up?”

“Come on, what are you doing?” He rubs his face, splitting the stack so that it doesn’t fall over on top of her.

“Cleaning.”

“It’s not even seven in the morning yet, Aurie,” he sighs.

Aurie purses her lips, disliking the way he utters her name. She knew he was tired, and she would’ve been too if it weren’t for her mind thinking of a hundred thoughts per second. She didn’t get much sleep last night, constantly thinking about Kylian and his move to Madrid. It was infuriating to be consumed by a man who lived so differently than her, yet made her question what she wants. The same man who seemed to have torn down her walls so easily before but now they were back up.

Before Kylian, she was sure of herself and her career. She had bounced through different departments—pediatrics, geriatrics, nursing homes, out-patient care, physiotherapy for a club—and was sure that the simple life of working at nursing home was it for her, that she wasn’t strong enough mentally to handle any other group, but now she wasn’t sure.

Besides Kylian, she thought of Maria and Estrella’s words, how she does have the time to still figure everything out. Still has time to see where she fits, whether that is in the nursing home or somewhere else. She had the power and skill.

And then Aurie scrambled to the last thought: that Kylian still had yet to ask her if she would even be willing to go to Madrid with him. What if he didn’t? What if he understood what the nursing home, the house and pets, and how much Camille and Simone meant to her, that the thought of splitting them up would never come across his mind, so he wouldn’t even think to ask Aurie—

“Aurie,” Kylian whispers, slipping his hand behind her waist and pulling her closer to him. He grabs a hold of the dusting cloth, prying it out of her hand and setting it down near the edge of the books. “C’mere.”

His warm skin burns her cheeks and neck as his strong arms engulf her. He smells of heat and her bed sheets, the sleep marks still evident in his shoulders. Aurie hugs his waist, clasping her hands where they meet, sighing deeply. She can feel her own body relax and mold into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

He kisses her temple, pulling back. His finger traces around her ear. “What are you thinking? Let me in.”

It’s three simple words that Aurie wishes were as simple as saying them. But her tongue knots, her throat closes as she stares at his eyes. They’re soft, but there’s an emotion in them that makes her heart lurch, an ache that travels underneath her breastbone and through her ribs, paralyzing her in that spot. Aurie can plainly see the tension around his eyes and jaw.

“I can’t,” she croaks, slipping out of his grip. Kylian sighs, reeling his arms back slowly, offering her a faint smile but she knows it’s merely out of politeness rather than genuine. “I’m sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to run away and I’m not, but—I need some time to think.”

“Okay,” he says softly, stepping away from her. The air stills between the two of them, a silence so sudden and profound that even Bleu stutters to a stop, his wagging tail going stiff.

Kylian glances at Bleu, walking out of the library, petting his head before going upstairs. He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe in some way this is her punishment towards him after the past week, but Aurie isn’t that cruel.

His phone buzzes from his pocket as he reaches the top of the stairs, he reads the message from Raphael.

Hey, I found Stefan. I have his mother’s contact information, should I send it?

-

“Hey,” she says, sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder. Escaping to the ballroom to clean the rest of the remnants of last night, she called Martin, needing to talk to him.

“Aurie,” Martin beams. “What do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Aurie snorts, tossing the last bits of trash into the bin. “Hardly pleasure. Erm, got to ask, are you staying at PSG?”

“Absolutely not,” Martin says curtly. “Management is in shambles. I cannot in good faith stay there and try to micro-manage all their injuries while simultaneously listening to a new staff try and implement their different plans. No one can agree on anything.”

She purses her lips. “That bad?”

“Very, had I not been dealing with this, I would’ve fallen up on more of those in-person visits of Kylian like I said I would, but I knew you could handle him.”

Aurie nods, “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, at the moment, back to orthopedics, in-patient and out-patient. Rather do that for the next couple of months at least. And you, Aurie? Has taking care of Kylian changed your mind about going back on the field?”

She laughs, sitting down in a seat. “No. Not at all—”

“You aren’t bad, you know? It can be intense and quick-paced, but you have it in you. You always have.”

“I know, I just rather not always be on edge all the time. It’s too much.”

“Mm-hmm,” Martin hums.

“Working with Kylian has made me realize that maybe I can do something else as well. Maybe just volunteer at the nursing home instead of working primarily there.”

“Ah. I saw that you two got very close…” There’s a light-hearted tone in his voice, perhaps teasingly.

“I know,” Aurie cringes, remembering who she’s talking to.

“I mean, technically—”

“Martin, we do not need to have this conversation.”

“Okay okay,” he chuckles. “All I’m saying is that you two got close and now he’s leaving. Is this why you are asking me?”

“Yeah…I don’t know if I want to get back into the hospital setting but maybe.”

“You can always work with me.”

“Martin.”

“Well, maybe not if you are planning on being with Kylian. Look, I don’t have much time on me right now, Aurie, but wherever you end up, you will excel. I’m not sure when and why you ever started doubting your abilities. You are capable of a lot of talented and remarkable things. I would have never selected or trusted you with Kylian had I had any doubt about your ability,” Martin pauses. “Truthfully, I think you should try the in-patient setting again. I know peds scared you, but you didn’t get to see the way those kids and parents walked out of the room when you were there. Maybe even geriatrics. You have given so many people hope, Aurie. You’ll be okay, alright?”

Aurie chokes back a sob. Listening to Martin’s praise reminded her of who she was when she was seventeen and taking his class, immediately getting his attention when she was the only one to pin the diagnosis on a patient of his. What she thought was an example ended up being the diagnosis of a patient he was currently caring for. It was a rare diagnosis, yet, Aurie seemed to know it within ten minutes, asking him all the right questions to arrive at her conclusion. Since then, her skill was highlighted in all of their exams and practical studies.

When she first walked into his class, she would’ve never imagined it leading to where she is now. At seventeen, she wasn’t fearful. She never hesitated, head-on with certainty, yet it all changed five years ago during her mother’s accident.

“Aurie?”

“Yeah,” she musters, sniffling, “okay, yeah, thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can always call me.”

“I will.”

“And oh hey! I can take over Kylian’s rehab from here. His medical in Madrid revealed that his calf is 95% healed,” he enunciated. “They were impressed with it and want him doing more agility exercises and getting his fitness up. I’ll send you a plan that they shared with me.”

-

Like a madman on the street, Aurie drove five over the speed limit because there were no nearby cars. It was barely anything over the speed limit, but it felt so damn powerful and exhilarating to steer into her driveway, feeling every jostle and jolt of her car, slamming on the brakes as she stopped in front of her house. Turning it off, she quickly hops out and ruffles Bleu’s fur before bolting through the front door.

Kylian stands there, sweat glistening off his toned biceps through his sleeveless tank. One of his cheeks is bulged as he carries the canister of strawberries.

Aurie’s mouth falls open. “You’re eating my strawberries again?”

A lopsided grin breaks out on Kylian’s face as Aurie nears him, snatching the canister of a few wet strawberries. He bristles, “Hey!”

“Come here.” She grabs his wrist in her other hand and he turns his palm over so that their hands can intertwine. She leads him to the living room and sees that the couch is drawn out into the bed, a blanket loosely drawn over it. She sits down and pats the spot next to her to sit down. “Okay I need to say it now before I start crying, but this is all so stupid.”

His eyebrows crease as his head tilts. “Hmm?”

“I know I haven’t been handling this right and have been very…emotional…but it’s silly because you haven’t even asked me yet.”

Kylian’s hand tightens around hers. He shakes his head, “You haven’t been too emotional. Asked you about what? Madrid?”

Aurie purses her lips, slightly embarrassed. “Not just Madrid, but where we go after this. What this—” Aurie raises their hands together, “—really means? Or what…is this just a summer fling?”

Kylian shakes his head immediately, not being able to hold his laugh as he says, “No, Aurèle, you are not a summer fling.” He lets go of her hand and slots it on her cheek. “You are not a summer fling. I love you. I’m in love with you. Selfishly so, that I would force you onto a plane and move you to Madrid with me if I could, but not only is that illegal…and unfair. You love it here, and I want you to come with me, really, I do, but that is only if you want to come.”

Aurie can feel the tears brimming around her eyes and a tear slipping down that Kylian doesn’t hesitate to wipe away. The small smile he gives her is full of adoration and love. His eyes are a stark difference from the ones she saw this morning.

But he didn’t leave. She left the house this morning, and he had three hours to leave but instead he worked out, spoke with Raphael, ate her strawberries, and waited for her to come back home.

He chuckles, a laugh that is suppressed but he attempts to hide it. “You are going to break my heart if you say no, but that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your answer right now. I do, however, want you at my presentation. I know you may be reluctant and hate the media’s light, but they think you are my manager, so it won’t be odd that you are there. It’s okay if Madrid is too big for you, hell it might even be too big for me, but I don’t want this to end, Aurie.”

Despite the surge of courage Martin’s call gave her and remembering Maria and Estrella’s words from last night, she feels like she needs to debate just one more time about moving to Madrid—and the only way to do that is to get her career in order. She needed to cross her t’s and dot her i’s before she left.

The idea of being at Kylian’s presentation terrifies her. Her window was a blatant reminder of what happened during the first and last time she was under the cameras of the public with Kylian. But, the hope in Kylian’s eyes causes her to utter the words before she can stop herself. “I’ll be at your presentation.”

“Really?” His mouth falls open in a gleeful smile like a child being promised ice cream on their way home.

Aurie rubs his hand with her thumb, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Kylian kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger. “Thank you.” He faintly tugs her with his hand and captures her lips, sealing the promise with a kiss. When he retreats, Aurie feels a surge of heat travel through her body.

“I don’t want this to end either, Kylian,” she whispers. “I need to figure out my job, what happens to this house, my animals—if I do end up moving to Madrid permanently.”

“You need me to convince you?” Kylian proposes with a smirk.

Aurie laughs, hitting his chest with her hand. “No. I just don’t want to leave with many things unfinished.”

“You can always come back.”

“I know, but if I come back and there are problems…I’ll want to stay and fix them.”

“Okay.” He smiles, leaning against the couch, and pulling her into his chest. His arms swallow her whole as he kisses her forehead. “Thank you. For not running away and talking about this. You don’t have to decide everything right now, Aurie, although I know you were probably lying awake thinking about this the entire time, hmm?”

She nods sheepishly, chuckling as she draws little shapes on his clothed chest. “I wanted to wake you up in the night and tell you to just rip off the bandaid, let me know if you want me in Madrid or not.”

His chest vibrates. “You really thought you were a summer fling?”

“No,” she scowls, sitting up to face him. His hand traces the edge of her jaw as he smiles, it’s such a hazy smile behind hooded eyes that if he were anyone else she would’ve asked him if he were drunk. “My mind went there as I thought of the words, trying to describe a short-term girlfriend.”

Kylian snorts, shaking his head languidly. “I don’t know what else I need to do to prove to you how much I love you and would wait for you. I know we moved fast, but I’m sure of it, there is no one else I would rather have beside me than you.”

Aurie simpers, pecking his nose. His words felt like an arrow shooting right into her heart, striking with all its might, imprinting into her, and if she were to pull it out, it would leave a gaping hole that would never be filled. They gave her reassurance, that her worries weren’t for nothing, and that of course Kylian would be patient, would be willing, and wouldn’t rush her to uproot her entire life.

He knew when he walked into her house that falling in love with her would be damn near impossible, but he also wasn’t going to force this girl, who brought the smile to all of her residents and her niece, out of the town. Sure, he would get on his knees and beg for it, but it was Aurie’s decision at the end of the day. And she had a lump of baggage to sort through.

“You don’t have to do anything else. I know you do.” Aurie nestles her head back into the space between his arm and shoulder, her nose scrunching. “You’re kinda stinky, but I love you.”

He pulls her closer, tightening his arms around her so that she can’t wiggle out. “That’s a bit rude, chérie.”

-

Within the next two days, Aurie reluctantly straightens out her résumé and sends it to one hospital in Madrid, one that she has volunteered for back when she had the stint with the Spanish national team. Martin also enjoyed this particular hospital, so she knew if he had nothing but good things to say about it, then it was good.

She sent it in the middle of the night as Kylian laid with an arm strewn over her lap, snoring softly. She debated on sending it for thirty minutes, switching over the tabs repeatedly, until finally, thirty minutes later, she sent it while muttering a small, “Fuck it.” She shut her laptop and scooted it towards the end of her bed. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into Kylian’s body and sleep came swiftly.

In the morning, Aurie stirs awake before Kylian. Her legs are intertwined in his, sandwiched tightly around his muscled thighs. When she untangles from him, she kisses his cheek demurely, making his eyebrows twitch and turn toward the pillow. She kisses him again, running her hands over the planes of chest.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

“I’m going to head to the nursing home,” she says, because really, she did have an actual shift today. Kylian’s lips curl into a smile, his eyes still groggy as he rubs them, not interpreting any of her words. Aurie chuckles, kissing his forehead. “Okay I’m leaving, Kylian.”

“No,” he rasps, grabbing a hold of her propped wrist and pulling her back down.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“Shhh,” he hums, pulling her back down to his warm frame. “Or take me with you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“They love me,” he smiles, pecking her cheek. “And they love you.”

Aurie smiles, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. They do love Kylian, and while no one would really care that he was there, it was still…odd? But she also didn’t care to ponder about it, he could volunteer to help some of the residents if he wanted to while she made her rounds, either way, she needed to start getting ready.

“If you want to come, you have about thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?” His eyes pop open.

She shrugs, “Yes.”

“Jesus, Aurie, how do you get ready so quickly and are so calm for something that starts in thirty minutes?”

“It is my first day back, officially, so…I don’t know,” she says nonchalantly like it explains everything. “I’ll eat there, so don’t have to worry about that. Just quickly shower, and then throw on some scrubs, and then I’m out the door.”

Kylian stares at her as if she suddenly grew antlers from the side of her head. But as much as he would’ve loved to join her, he knew he needed to start his new exercise regimens that he received from the physios at Real Madrid.

He kisses her lips chastely and releases her so that she can get ready. He watches her ruffle up Maple’s sleeping form, rile up Bleu and then grab a set of clothes before trotting towards the restroom. He snorts at the sight, his heart thumping in his eardrums.

He falls back to sleep for what he imagines is five minutes, but in reality it’s been 25 minutes. He wakes up with Aurie kissing his forehead, his chin pinched in her fingertips.

“I’ll see you in a bit, don’t forget dinner with your parents!” And then she rushes out of the bedroom door with the animals in tow.

-

Kylian is restless when the time of the reservation for the dinner comes, pacing back and forth down the hallway as Aurie stands in the kitchen, casually writing down a list of groceries she needs.

“Ky,” she mutters mindlessly, knowing that he is fretting about something, but doesn’t indulge him because the worry is most likely nothing.

He fusses with the tie on his neck, pulling it off entirely and tossing it onto the couch. He doesn’t need a tie, he realizes, it’s just his family. He undoes the top of the buttons and walks down again, spinning around and then stopping abruptly in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

Aurie perks up at him, leaning against the counter with one hip. Setting the pen down on the notepad, her brows raise, “Have you ever been to a grocery store?”

He sighs, and walks—no, strides—towards her. His hands land on her cheeks, cradling her head before he leans in and kisses her lips. The small stubble he was growing is gone, cleanly shaven that she feels his smooth chin against hers.

“You are beautiful,” he says when he pulls away, exhaling with a ragged breath. He glances down at the white blouse she wears, and then at her black pencil skirt.

She chuckles, her cheeks warm up like the first time he’s ever looked at her for more than two seconds. “So, have you?”

He shakes his head. “It’s been years, possibly six, no seven—eight?”

She laughs, her hands fixing the top of his white button-up. “I hate that you haven’t experienced a grocery store in so long. There’s nothing like the crushing disappointment when you realize they ran out of the ice cream you’ve been craving for days, and then a screaming child is behind you begging their mom for candy.”

Kylian smiles, shaking his head at her rambles, too distracted with the way her necklace is shining underneath the kitchen’s light fixtures. He chuckles as he kisses her jaw.

“Oh! And then of course you always forget something on your list. No matter how many times you think you’ve got everything, nope! And it’s the most important item, too.”

His hands snake behind her waist as he pulls her closer to him, pulling her body closer into him. Her neck is exposed so he pecks it, tickling Aurie in the process.

“What are you fussing about?” Aurie asks.

He sighs, resting his head against her shoulder. “I’m just nervous. Worried that the media will find us.���

Aurie smiles softly, hugging his shoulder blades. “They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

“Then,” Aurie shrugs. “Oh well.”

“You won’t be mad?”

“No, I’m more focused on meeting your family than the media.” And it’s the truth for Aurie. The media is at the bottom of her worries for tonight. She also frets about Camille and Raphael making it on time. If she’s going to move to Madrid, she’ll need to get used to cameras.

When Kylian peels away, Aurie massages the worry lines on Kylian’s face, chuckling at the way his lips pucker out.

“They’re going to love you,” he whispers.

“I know you say that, but you know, I still don’t want to do anything embarrassing.”

Kylian grins. “Like what?”

“Fall on my face?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You’ll be surprised what happens when I’m under pressure.”

“Can promise there’s no water bottles,” he smirks, referencing the time she recounted her spraying the Marseille player with water.

She gasps. “Hey!”

His lips split into a laugh as he grabs a hold of her face and kisses her. “I’m kidding! But let’s go, Mac and Paul are here.”

Making their way to the car, Kylian holds open the door and Brice sits in the backseat, who waves with a welcoming smile. “Aurie, hello.”

“Hi.”

Paul turns his head from the passenger seat. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to flood the car again.”

“Oh, my god,” Aurie groans as she sits down, a chuckling Kylian behind her, slithering his hand onto her thigh.

“You know, Brice,” Kylian says, glancing at him. “Aurie called you cute when she first saw you.”

Aurie’s cheeks redden, palming her face. She isn’t sure how she suddenly became the butt of the joke, but she wasn’t going to let them run away with it. “Was I supposed to call him ugly?” The boys snicker, and Aurie taps Paul’s shoulder. “And I didn’t see you attempting to cool him down.”

Paul laughs, throwing his head back, his beaded locs slam against the headrest. It’s the first time Paul shows any personality in front of Aurie, even Mac cracks a small smile from the driver seat. Kylian’s security detail that he kept in place around her house were cordial, never talked to her, not that she minded. She would see them playing with Bleu occasionally but that was about all they gave through their tough exterior. Just three men whose names she mixed up.

“I heard that you took Kylian driving,” Paul says, angling his body towards Aurie. Kylian intertwines his hand with Aurie’s, leaning his head on the headrest, simpering.

Aurie narrows her eyes. “Mmm, yes he was scared the entire time.”

Kylian gasps. “For a good reason!”

Paul snickers as he intigates, “Come on, Kylian, you’re going to Madrid without a license.”

Kylian’s jaw drops, glancing between Aurie and Paul and hearing a stifled laugh from behind him. How are they suddenly teaming up against him now? “Alright now.”

Aurie laughs at his antics. She sticks out her hand towards Paul who shakes it, silently acknowledging their success to get underneath Kylian’s skin. Paul turns around while Aurie, noticing Kylian’s small pout, kisses the back of his hand.

-

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone leaps off the bench and runs towards Aurie. Camille and Raphael are right behind her, hand in hand. There are hardly any cars in the parking lot of the restaurant. The incandescent lights that line the restaurant cast a glow on Simone’s pale blue dress.

Kylian doesn’t hold Aurie’s hand, worried of paparazzi lurking nearby, though so far it seems calm. They chose a restaurant in Aurie’s town, knowing that the quietness of it wouldn’t draw much attention and renting it out for the night would be easier on such short notice. His entire family was already inside, having arrived about ten minutes ago.

“Hi, Keelan,” Simone greets once Aurie picks her up. She gives Kylian a small wave from the crook of Aurie’s shoulder. Kylian chuckles, waving back to her and then introducing her to Brice.

Camille and Raphael stand up once they meet at the bench. Aurie settles Simone back onto the floor and Kylian fixes the side of Aurie’s blouse. She turns around, thanking him with a smile and his knees go weak. She slots her arm around his back like it’s second nature.

Brice gets the front door and they make their way inside, the hostess leading them towards their table. The lights are drawn down, the only lighting coming from hanging bulbs, a kind of elegance that you would find in the city. It was a wonder she had no idea about this place, it was stunning.

There was some greenery hanging throughout the ceiling, being able to see hints of what it would look like in the daytime. Kylian nudges Aurie to keep walking as she gets distracted, his hand finding her lower back.

“It’s pretty in here,” she whispers. “Seems expensive.”

Kylian snorts. “Hardly. It’s just a pretty restaurant.”

She knows it isn’t expensive, but the ambience is rich. They chose a very good place, one in which she would visit again.

Kylian perks up when he sees his family. His parents, Fayza and Wilfried, are seated on one end, Ethan sandwiched between his niece and nephew—Lana and Isayah—and then Melissa beside Lana. Intertwining his hand with Aurie’s, he pulls her past the hostess and Brice. Aurie laughs, tightly holding onto him.

His nephew and niece greet him first excitedly, getting up from their seats and immediately jumping at his side. Kylian hugs them and then one by one he introduces Aurie and her family to his own. They each draw her in for a hug; Lana and Isayah immediately friending Simone and kicking Ethan out of his seat so that they can sit together.

Afterwards, Kylian pulls out Aurie’s chair and she sits in between Camille and him, Simone across from her, already engaged in an animated conversation with Lana.

It’s Fayza who catches Aurie’s eyes throughout the beginning part of dinner, she glances at her, staring at her and Kylian carefully. Kylian speaks enthusiastically amongst his family, wanting to hear what they’ve been up to more in detail since he’s been gone, and then highlights some of what Aurie has done for his recovery. There’s no way someone could miss how happy Kylian is at that moment. Fayza’s quiet, presumably soaking in the conversation like the rest of them, but Aurie feels like she’s silently assessing her.

Aurie stifles a smile, earning a snort from Camille who then jabs her side with her elbow. Aurie leans in towards her sister and whispers, “Don’t start.”

“That’s about the fakest smile I have ever seen in my life.”

“I feel like this is a test,” Aurie whispers, catching Raphael’s ear who chuckles quietly.

“You are doing fine, really,” Camille assures.

Raphael nods. “Stop doing that smile though…seems odd. You have a naturally resting smile, so just do that.”

Aurie’s face warms when Kylian’s hand slides underneath the table and clasps his hand with her own. Aurie forces a smile that quickly fades, her awareness of every muscle on her face sharper than ever.

A waiter distracts them as they place the order of their meals, a variety of pasta dishes. Kylian smiles bashfully as he strokes her hand with his thumb. “Stop worrying, mi amor.”

“Mi amor?” Aurie raises her eyebrow.

“Practicing.”

Aurie chuckles, feeling some of the tension ease off her shoulders with Kylian’s brief interaction. His squinting eyes and glowing face, he looked so handsome underneath this kind of light—and his happiness is contagious.

The kindness Kylian’s family shows the staff doesn’t go unnoticed by Aurie or her sister. Their manners are all profound, even the youngest of them, and Aurie watches them as they point to the menu of what they’d like. Simone sneaks glances at Aurie across the table, giggling when she does a silly face and then hides her face with the menu.

“She’s made friends,” Camille laughs.

“And look at you, you were worried she wouldn’t make friends in school when she starts next year.”

Camille shakes her head. “Because she can be too blunt.”

“She’s a kid, you know how they are. We certainly were like that.”

Raphael nods, blowing a raspberry. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey,” Camille interjects. “You didn’t have to tag along.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well you should’ve made other friends instead of always following me around.”

“You are all I need,” Raphael winks at her and Aurie snorts, a bubbly but loud noise that grabs the attention of the rest of the table.

“Did you just snort?” Ethan chimes, amusement in his eyes.

Aurie embarrassingly drinks a sip of her wine as the rest laugh, before setting it down. “It comes out sometimes.”

“All the time,” Kylian notes, raising his finger.

“You aren’t that funny.”

The table immediately bursts into a laugh—including Fayza—not that Aurie was taking note of it. She slaps her hand over her mouth to cover her own laugh and looks back at Kylian, quickly muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Melissa interrupts. “That was good.” She raises her glass for Aurie to clink with hers. Kylian is slightly flustered as they clink glasses, smiling fondly.

He leans in to kiss Aurie’s cheek and whispers softly, just for her to hear, “I love you.” Aurie's smile widens and Kylian’s breath catches, brushing her cheek with his thumb before intertwining his fingers with hers again.

Conversation flows swiftly, Aurie grows increasingly at ease, even when the discussion shifts to focus on her. Kylian, never once breaking his gaze from her, becomes more certain that Aurie is the one for him. She speaks with such ease, striking the perfect balance between professionalism and passion, without coming across as inauthentic. Impressionably, she doesn’t back down when Wilfried asks in-detail about her career choices. Kylian knows he can interject but Aurie doesn’t need him to.

Aurie should have known that Fayza was going to be the least of her problems, because the interrogation that Wilfried was putting her under, even Camille grabbed her other hand underneath the table.

“Why did you leave PSG?”

“To be frank, I became too emotionally invested in working as a physio,” she replies candidly. Thank god for the many sips of wine that she had. She’s sweating under his gaze. “Too many season-ending injuries. It felt like I was putting in a long time with these athletes just for them to get tackled and reinjure themselves. It was beginning to take a toll on me.”

“So then you went to the nursing home?”

“Not necessarily in that order,” she says meekly. “I worked in a hospital prior and then settled at the nursing home next door. I am specialized in pediatric and geriatric care, orthopedics as well.”

“Ah, impressive,” Fayza responds, eyeing Wilfried. With that glance from Fayza, Wilfried tips his glass towards Aurie, and she’s never been so thankful for the conversation to subside there, immediately sipping on the glass in a silent toast, and then exhaling a deep breath quietly.

Camille squeezes Aurie’s hand and then retreats it. She gives Aurie a thumbs up before the attention returns to Kylian. His eyes are more glossy than Aurie remembers them, perhaps it’s a mixture of the lighting or the wine, but it’s endearing.

-

“I’ll be right back,” Kylian excuses himself, following his mother to the terrace. She made a subtle sign earlier for him to follow her, and he’s barely gaining the confidence to get up and follow her. He kisses Aurie’s head before finding his mother outside. The cool air hits him when he opens the terrace door, the wind blowing the door open more forcibly than he anticipates.

Fayza chuckles, a lit cigarette in between her lips. “Are you drunk?”

“Non,” Kylian mutters, closing the door.

“Wine drunk has always looked so interesting on you. Can’t hold your liquor at all.”

Kylian smiles softly, relishing the wind rippling against his shirt. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was for both him and Aurie just now.

“I knew I would like her when you first told me about her,” she starts. “But I think I enjoy her even more now. She’s very smart too.”

“Incredibly.” He sits down in one of the seats.

“What are you worried about then?”

“That she won’t want to leave,” he mutters, glancing away at her careful gaze. “I mean you saw her with her family, they adore her… They’re already tight-knit and deeply protective of each other, just trying to get close with them was tough.”

Kylian sighs, resting his head against his propped fist. Seeing little Simone teasing Aurie from across the table and stealing glances between them throughout the chatter, his chest ached thinking about them being separated by a country-line.

Fayza puts out the lit cigarette in the ashtray and sits down in front of her son. “They are, I can tell. You aren’t going to separate them, Kylian. She’s moved before, without them.”

“I know, but—”

“Seeing the way she is now, she will have no problem traveling for the people she cares about,” Fayza interrupts, and Kylian knows she’s right. “I’ve never seen you so infatuated with someone like this, it’s pure. If it’s true love, the two of you will have no problem adapting to your new life.”

Kylian smiles, nodding alongside her words. He lets her grab his hands and she cradles them protectively.

“Besides, she is very beautiful, strong too. I didn’t think you’d fall in love so quickly with her, but after seeing how she is, I understand,” Fayza chuckles.

They could agree on that as well. Aurie was certainly the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, inside and out. Her heart captured him and locked him inside, and he didn’t want to escape.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Kylian grins, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Fayza squeezes his cheeks, making him laugh.

When the two of them make their way back inside, Kylian heads to the men’s room while Fayza saunters back to the table quietly, sitting in Kylian’s spot. Before he can even stop her, Raphael whistles at him and motions him down the hallway.

“Have you contacted Stefan’s mother yet?”

Kylian shakes his head. “Was waiting on a couple of things.”

“Like what?”

“Whether or not Aurie would be at my presentation and my official announcement to the team.”

“When is that?”

“Tomorrow…”

“And your presentation?”

“Not until a few weeks,” Kylian scratches his neck. “You and Camille and Simi are invited by the way”

Raphael smiles briefly, “Thanks man. I’m sure Simi will enjoy that.”

Meanwhile, Aurie and Fayza disappear onto the terrace. Simone, growing restless and sleepy, rests her head against Camille’s shoulder.

Aurie frets with her skirt once she steps outside, unsure whether to sit or admire the small garden, she does the latter.

Fayza smiles warmly when she stands next to Aurie. “This place is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Aurie pinches several flower petals between her fingers.

“Kylian told me about your reluctance to the media,” Fayza continues. “I know the rock being thrown in your window gave you quite a scare, that must’ve been terrifying.”

“Oh,” Aurie says, glancing down. She lets out a forced laugh, “Erm, yeah, a bit. But it’s fixed now, and I feel safe knowing it was all resolved.”

Fayza laughs. “Aurie, you have nothing to worry about. I completely adore you.”

Aurie grins, leaning against the garden’s railing. “Sorry, I am just a little tipsy. I apologize, genuinely, but I’m nervous.” Aurie lets out a shaky exhale, one that she had been holding since Fayza sat down next to her.

“No worries at all, you and my son both seem to be that way—tipsy.” Aurie laughs alongside Fayza. “Anyway, I know being in the spotlight of the media seems daunting and downright scary, but you won’t always have to be in the spotlight. We’re very private and if you don’t want to be in the limelight all the time, that’s perfectly fine. You’ll never be forced to explain yourself.”

Aurie nods, digesting her words. Slowly, they calm her nerves.

“Unfortunately, it will always be a factor, Aurie,” she continues. “But it’s about how you let it affect you. How you react to it or choose to embrace it. You can stay away from social media, set everything to private, or even delete your accounts altogether, but don’t let it hinder you from being with someone you love, okay?”

“Yes, that’s very wise. Thank you for those words,” Aurie says breathlessly. This all but intrigued her and comforted in one go.

Fayza laughs. “You said you were currently looking at jobs?”

“Oh, yes!” Aurie excites. “Well, I only applied to one at a hospital. It’s for geriatrics, the older population. It’s a smaller hospital, and I expect to hear a call back, but—” Aurie shrugs, “—kind of nervous for the first time. I debated applying for a long time the other night and really the idea of starting over in a hospital nauseates me.”

“You’ll be great there. I can tell you bring the kind of energy that lights up the entire room. You showed it tonight.”

“Thank you.” Heat creeps against Aurie’s cheeks. “I appreciate your words, immensely. I needed the extra boost in confidence…been an uncharacteristically few days feeling down.”

Fayza empathizes and holds her arms wide, beckoning for Aurie to hug her. Aurie doesn’t hesitate, chuckling nervously when she wraps her arms around Fayza. Her head rests against her shoulder, feeling small but reassured that everything would be okay.

She blinks away the tears, not wanting to ruin Fayza’s blouse, but her words did mean a lot to her. Hearing them from someone who had yet to meet her in person gave her a newfound confidence—a better judgment than anyone who knew her because Fayza immediately saw Aurie through any walls she attempted to put up.

“You are very lovable, it’s no wonder he fell in love with you so fast.”

Aurie laughs as a tear slips, wiping it away quickly.

-

As they hug and say their goodbyes, Melissa strikes up a conversation with Camille, the kiddies run alongside the sidewalk after their energy was revived with ice cream for dessert. Kylian’s hand tightly grips Aurie’s, not letting her go as he speaks to his family,

Ethan seems bashful in front of Aurie, and she can’t tell why, but she doesn’t pick on him despite it being on the tip of her tongue.

“I’ll see you at the presentation?” Ethan asks, glancing down.

“You will, it was nice meeting you,” Aurie says.

“You too,” he nods, before Kylian engulfs him into a hug.

“See you later,” Kylian utters towards his brother.

Finally, Aurie untangles their hands and waves at Ethan once more before strolling over to Camille and Raphael. They've moved closer to Paul and Mac, who are standing outside the car, playfully teasing the kids. As Aurie passes Melissa, she gets a warm hug, and Melissa then gathers her children from Paul. Aurie chuckles as she watches Simone leap up to give Paul a high-five.

Camille and Raphael embrace Aurie before she bends down and says bye to Simone. Simone wraps her tiny arms around Aurie’s neck before hopping away with a giddy smile.

On the way back to Aurie’s house, Kylian leans his head on her shoulder the entire time and mumbles incoherently, speaking just to speak. Not that Aurie minds, she’s checking her email, waiting to see if there was any update regarding her job position. She waits some agonizing seconds for the app to refresh before finally, there is an email regarding the position. She skims through the introduction and finds the paragraph she’s been waiting for.

Upon reviewing your application, we believe your exceptional skills and experience are better suited for our out-patient geriatrics role, while possibly aiding some of the new in-patient physiotherapists. Your expertise in both in-patient and out-patient rehabilitation and your compassion—

Aurie’s eyes went wide, her application was accepted!

By the time they make it inside, they can’t keep their hands off of each other, not even bothering to make it up the stairs, just settling down on the couch in the living room. Their discarded clothing lines the path from the front door to the couch. She tells Kylian the news when their chests are still silently heaving.

“Ky,” she says, sitting up. She slips on Kylian’s white dress shirt, which distracts him.

“Hmm?”

“I applied to a hospital about two days ago in Madrid,” she murmurs sheepishly, feeling shy under his gaze. He cradles her head against his shoulder, peering down at her.

His brown eyes widened. “Really? That’s amazing—”

“I got it.”

“What?!” He tries to reign in his excitement, but he can’t because if the position was offered, it meant she’s a step closer to moving to Madrid with him. That she was going to choose him. It also meant that she was over her hump of doubting herself. He kisses her forehead with a firm kiss.

“I got the position.”

“Well of course you’d get it,” he beams, pulling her impossibly tighter into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

She silently curses all the doubts that have plagued her over the past few days and weeks. Despite her insecurities, this hospital recognized her exceptional skills and experience at just 25, deeming her capable of teaching the new physiotherapists. Whatever spell she had been under, she hoped it was gone for good.

Although she completed possibly the biggest task she needed to figure out, she still wanted to speak with her mother before she left. She didn’t even want to think about what she would say when she was moving, but Aurie vowed to not let it affect her. She was able to move past many of the things her mother told her, and one more thing wouldn’t hurt.

Aurie squeezes Kylian’s torso tighter, snuggling into him until she finds a comfortable position to sleep. His protective arms wrap around her like a secure cocoon, and she’s never felt so relaxed as she does now.

-----

Note: Almost to the end. :')

Taglist: @karotland​​ @mrs-bellingham​ @kylianswifey​ @kymb-10​ @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog​ @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

[fawcetttweets]

Physiotherapy sucks. Gonna quit and join the circus. Sure it’ll probably make all my issues 200% worse, and I have terrible balance so those big shoes and tight wires will be difficult for me, but at least I’ll get a cool red nose that honks whenever I fall on my face! But I doubt they’d take ‘making fake tweets’ as a skill worth showing off to thousands :(. I gotta put Billy in a Situation to make me feel better about this. Maybe ill make him join the circus to fulfil my acrobatic dreams.

[punkeccentricenigma]

headcanons with the rise boys and a reader who is in med school! Graduated high school early and is training to be a doctor! Romantic or platonic, your pick

Rise!Boys with Reader who is in Med School

Relationship status: platonic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Mention of slicing the frog, Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: Just so you know, I am not familiar with medicine at the college level, only what I had in high school biology, so I tried to write these headcanons as neutrally as possible. And all in all, even if I learn anything now, it is only in the field of physiotherapy because my friend is going to such studies this year, so sorry if it's not what you wanted, but still, enjoy!

Leonardo

◇I won't lie, I'm sure this guy admires you.

◇Not everyone gets a chance to get into such a school!

◇But knowing his personality, he'll probably tease you a lot, calling you a 'nerd.'

◇It usually doesn't cross the line, BUT if Leonardo goes too far with his teasing, especially when you're tired after classes, you often threaten to perform a dissection on him like a frog.

◇And when he arrogantly waved it off at first, you and Donnie pulled a prank on him with that theme.

◇Everything was recorded as he lay pinned to the table, and you stood over him with a scalpel.

◇Leo thinks you're very diligent, hardworking, and disciplined, which also means mentally exhausted.

◇Such a school demands a lot, so expect that during study sessions in your cozy home, that idiotic turtle will come and drag you to the hidden city to relax.

◇I'm sure he'll try to make you laugh often using elaborate medical jokes he found on the internet.

◇Sometimes he also feels a bit jealous. He has some basic knowledge when he has to patch himself or his brothers up, but deep down, he would also like to go to such a medical school to enhance his skills. But you see the whole situation.

◇But don't worry! In your free time, you'll give him a bit of education with the knowledge you've acquired so far.

◇Even if he tries to hide it, he's a bit overwhelmed by the vast amount of knowledge and skills you possess.

◇But despite that, he's proud of you for taking on the challenge and fulfilling your dreams! Or at least you're on the right path to doing so.

Raphael

◇The proudest big bro! You got into that school?? Amazing!

◇Your number one supporter!

◇Raphael truly appreciates your intelligence, hard work, and determination. He never imagined himself getting into a medical school, not only because of the whole situation but also because his knowledge absolutely doesn't go in the same direction as yours. But that his friend managed it? Nice!

◇He admires your selfless need to help other people. He's keeping his green fingers crossed for you to achieve that dream medical title!

◇I'm sure he suggested some ‘experiments’ on himself for you to practice a topic from lectures. In the end, you hit him on the head for such an absurd idea. You didn't intend to do that! That's Donatello's role! Besides, mixed human DNA with turtle DNA would probably mess with your mind more than help.

◇Although their biology sometimes interested you.

◇When he notices you're tired and stressed from all the medical material, he'll gladly take you to their living room, and under a warm blanket, you'll have a Lou Jitsu movie marathon (where you'll eventually fall asleep, lmao) or play a bandana takeover with his brothers, all tricks allowed for your amusement!

◇Hey, don't complain about his support. Many times, you've helped him when he was stressed about being the leader before Leo or after the Kraang invasion. That's all he can do!

◇Sometimes he was confused and a bit unhappy when you started explaining various medical terms or tools to him. Raph is simple; give him a lighter version of all that.

◇Sometimes he wasn't happy that you declined meetings because of studying or lectures. Hey! He also needs attention sometimes D:

Donatello

◇Donnie is really proud of you, even if he doesn't express it in words every day.

◇But as a reward for your hard work, he'll fine-tune the devices you use for practice or build something helpful.

◇He appreciates your genuine interest in understanding difficult concepts and your ability for critical thinking. You don't even know how much he needed someone like you in his life, looking at his family.

◇Despite your enthusiasm and intelligence, he thinks you might overly stress about grades and perfectionism, which in the long run can lead to stress and burnout. So, he often forces you to take a break in his lab, sipping mint-flavored coffee.

◇It's also his small revenge for taking him away from his work on new inventions when he hasn't slept for two days in a row, lmao.

◇But if it's not spending time with him, the guy will go through all your material at the moment to make cheat sheets with the most important information.

◇You pose an intellectual challenge for him and keep him on his toes, but he always enjoys discussing and exploring different perspectives on a topic with you, even though he leans more towards technological knowledge than biological.

◇However, despite his intelligence, Donnie in those moments can be a bit 'know-it-all' and doesn't always consider the opinions or feelings of other people, or even the actual facts.

Michelangelo

◇You won't convince me he wouldn't be initially confused; I mean, he's the least interested in medical topics.

◇But as soon as you start explaining, he'll immediately admit that he's impressed and that he's really proud of you!

◇He'll always mention how much he appreciates your determination to achieve your dreams!

◇Personally, I have a headcanon that Mikey wants to become one of the most recognizable artists, so he roughly knows how frustrating it is when something doesn't work out.

◇In a way, I think Mikey sees you as his role model, so feel proud to be compared to Lou Jitsu :D

◇Mikey sometimes worries a lot about your mental health after lectures. So, expect many long conversations about self-care.

◇Being the youngest of the brothers, he got a lot of attention, so he'll often be jealous of how much time you spend at school and with human friends rather than with him. He knows it's immature behavior, but he can't help it!

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ shameless (e) - tbaw. ⋙ alternative foreplay to the smut scene in this chapter.

why was it deleted. i added more to the conversation between reader and eren about the whole floch thing and the transition between that and the sex didn't flow as well, so i got rid of this. what changed. nothing really ft. fem!reader, eren. cw. unedited, fem!reader, explicit language, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, cuts off before the good part. 2,000 words.

Please remember that this scene was deleted for a reason and that nothing that happens here occurs in the actual story posted on AO3. This is just fun bonus content for people who are interested in reading more.

context. Reader is sitting on Eren's lap in the hotel room after scolding him for saying gross things with Floch about another girl.

Eren breaks away from the kiss, trailing his mouth along your jaw until his lips are brushing against your ear. “Do you want me to help you forget about work?” you hum in response, curling your hands into fists against his bare shoulders. “Do you want a massage?” he asks, voice low in your ear. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, ok,” you say, “But no sex — I’m still mad at you.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says — and he means it. 

He lifts you up off of his lap and onto the bed beside him. “Lay down on your stomach,” he says, nodding toward the bed.

You tug the neckline of your shirt (his shirt) against your collarbones, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Do you want me to take this off?”

Yes, fuck.

Even though Eren agreed to give you an innocent massage, his cock twitches in his pants when he realizes the two of you are alone in his hotel room. Fuck, he’s so horny for you, it’s embarrassing.

He nods in response, looking down at the bed in shame as you pull the shirt up and over your head, tossing it down onto the ground before laying on your stomach on the bed.

“I’ll get some lotion,” he says, quickly standing up and heading to the bathroom. Sure, he needs lotion, but he’s also running off because he just got a semi from seeing your bare back.

He is so fucking pathetic.

When he comes back out to the main room, you’re still laying on your stomach with your arms folded under your head. You aren’t wearing a bra and the waistband of your shorts hangs low on your hips.

Eren bites his lip to hold back a groan as he settles on the bed beside you, his weight causing the mattress to dip and you to slide closer toward him. He pumps a few squirts of lotion onto his palm before rubbing his hands together, warming the lotion up before he touches your back.

“How do you like it?” he asks, trying hard not to sound as horny as he is when his hands start rubbing up and down your back.

“Hard," you say quietly, muffled by your arms. 

He presses his hands a little harder into the muscles of your back, kneading and sliding against the firm skin as he searches for tight spots to be worked out.

Eren has a little bit of knowledge about how to give massages thanks to a girl he hooked up with a few times back in university — a physiotherapy student. She showed him some of the basics on how to use his body weight to add more pressure, to keep it gentle over bones, and to read the person’s reactions to know where to spend more attention.

It has proven to be a very useful skill in helping Eren get laid more than once, so he’s not surprised that his dick has a Pavlovian response to giving massages, but he tries to hide his raging boner as he kneads through the tense muscles in your back.

He notices that you’re the tensest around your neck and shoulders, which makes sense because you’re hunched over your laptop all day at work — but he also notices that you moan and arch your back a little when he runs his hands down your waist and when he kneads little circles with his thumbs into your lower back.

“Does that feel good?” Eren asks, voice thick with lust as your hips buck up into his hands.

“Yeah, really good,” you respond breathlessly.

Eren swallows thickly as he nudges down the waistband of your shorts, thumbs dipping lower and pressing harder into your lower back as you groan beneath him. Your skin feels like it’s on fire under his touch and he’s rock hard in his pants, but he can see the way your body is melting into the mattress from his massage, so he desperately tries to pull himself together until —

“Can you take them off?” you ask, hips lifting up off the bed.

“Your shorts?” Eren blurts. He feels like he's a teenager again and seeing a girl naked for the first time.

You move a hand from your face down to your hips, tugging your shorts and your underwear lower down your hips. “Yeah, they’re uncomfy.”

Eren does as you ask, grabbing the waistband of your bottoms and pulling them completely off of you. He tosses them off the side of the bed and tries not to grope your ass. Instead, he keeps his hands busy by pumping a few more squirts of lotion onto them and rubbing his palms together.

He tries to focus his attention on your back, he really does, but every time he runs his palms down to your lower back, he finds himself dipping lower and lower until he’s kneading at your ass with both hands. Eren grips you hard, stroking his thumb up and down over the meat of your ass as he pulls you open to look at your small, puckered hole.

“Is this ok?” he asks, voice tight.

“Yeah, keep going,” you say quietly, shifting around on the bed.

So he does. He tries to keep his movements firm, kneading out the tense muscles of your ass, but he can’t deny the small amount of excitement he gets each time he spreads you open.

Eren scoots down a little on the bed so he can work on your thighs, taking a moment to palm himself through his shorts for a bit of relief as he looks at how beautiful you are, laid out for him like this. After a few quick jerks of his cock through his shorts, he returns his hands to the bottle of lotion to pump more onto his hands.

He places his hands on either side of your right thigh, just above the knee. Pressing hard with his palms and the pads of his fingers, he drags his hands up your thigh until they meet the bottom of your ass. You moan and squirm in pleasure, spreading your thighs a little bit as Eren’s hands slide back down to above your knee.

Eren repeats the motion, watching as your body visibly relaxes from his touch. He thinks it’s funny the way your muscles are softening under his hands when his are doing the complete opposite. When your thigh feels loose and relaxed under his grip, he moves over to your left leg, repeating the process as you make small gasping moans into your arms. 

He notices this time that when his hands move up your legs that there’s a glistening wetness at the apex of your thighs. The sight makes him audibly groan as he pushes his weight harder into your thigh.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back, “Sorry.”

“Keep going,” you urge, spreading yourself open a little more for him.

Eren moves a hand to each of your thighs and slides them up to your ass, his thumbs dragging across your inner thigh and brushing just at the crease of your upper thigh. His palms find your ass again, spreading you open with his thumbs and watching your pussy open for him like a blooming flower.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing harder. “Sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing?” you groan, hips lifting off the mattress slightly to give him more access.

“I don’t know,” he admits, thumbs brushing dangerously close to your slick entrance. “I just want to give you a nice massage.”

“This is nice,” you assure, looking back at him from over your shoulder. “Do you want me to roll over?”

You’re teasing him now, he realizes when your eyes glint back at him. How long were you laying beneath him, getting worked up from his hands on your body, pretending like you weren’t?

Two can play that game.

“Yeah, turn over.”

You flip over onto your back but drape your arms up and over your head to hide your face. Eren takes a moment to appreciate your naked body as he coats his hands in more lotion.

“Anywhere, in particular, you want me to focus on?” he asks, challenging.

“My thighs are pretty tight.”

Eren pushes his shorts off of his hips, discarding them off the side of the bed with your clothes and allowing his cock to fly up against his stomach. Hard, heavy, and leaking precum, he gives himself a few firm strokes, cupping his balls and squeezing them gently, before reaching forward to massage your thighs again.

He starts with the right thigh, repeating the motions from before on the front of your leg. Each time his hand moves to the top of your leg, he lets his fingers brush against the folds of your pussy and you gasp at the sensation.

He moves to the next leg and repeats the process, watching as you squirm and blush beneath him. Your breathing is heavier now, each breath causing your breasts to rise and fall on your chest. Your thighs and pussy are flushed in arousal and when Eren’s motions pull you open, he watches you drip down onto the mattress beneath you.

“Massages work best if there’s some stretching involved, too,” Eren says, grabbing your thigh to throw it up over his shoulder.

At this, you remove your arms from your face to look up at Eren with a flushed, fucked-out expression. You let your arms fall back on the pillows at your side as he looms above you with your ankle hooked on his shoulder.

“Just relax,” he coos, hands pressing against the mattress on either side of your head as he leans his body forward. He presses your thigh up against your chest slowly — so fucking slowly — and he can feel the drag of his cock between your legs as he moves — back and forth, back and forth.

Eren notices that your eyes are still a little red and swollen from crying earlier about work and it breaks his heart. You seem fine now that you're looking at him with that dazed look, but he leans forward enough to softly press his lips against your forehead before pulling back.

He leans back all the way, settling your leg back down onto the bed before pulling your other leg up on his shoulder. He repeats his movements from before, leaning his body slowly over yours as he pushes your thigh against your chest.

This time, when he rocks his hips, the head of his cock catches on your entrance. You whimper at the feeling, hips rolling in hopes of catching him in just the right way until he slides inside of you — but Eren pulls back.

“How do your thighs feel?” he asks, and when you open your eyes you see him looming above you with lust-darkened eyes.

You’re enjoying his teasing, but your mind is so clouded with arousal that you just say: “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, bringing one hand down to your other leg, spreading your thighs open wider as he keeps rocking his hips against you. “I thought you said, no sex?” he asks.

“Fuck me,” you repeat, just a breathless whine.

“I just want to give you a nice massage,” he coos, leaning forward until the tips of his hair brush against your face.

You successfully manage to angle your hips in a way that has Eren’s cock sliding inside of you, and both of you moan out in pleasure from the feeling. You’re so wet from his massage and his teasing that he slides in easily against your tight, wet walls, despite the way your body squeezes around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, succumbing to the feeling of you wrapped around him and pushing his hips until he’s balls-deep inside of you. “You’re so wet.”You can only whimper in response, so drunk off the feeling of him inside of you and the need for more. All you can do is clench around his cock as your hips shift urgently against him, desperate to be fucked.

[slityclayloam]

Sometimes I like looking up dyspraxia on google or tumblr as it makes me feel better seeing others like me, but like everytime I am violently reminded just how much it seeps into my everyday life.

Like I have decent movement, I can't remember the last time I fell over and I rarely bump into things. I can now wear turtle neck jumpers without feeling like I'm being strangled. I can type fast on my laptop and rarely have to look at the keys. I can drive, parallel park and reverse park. I can even now catch stuff thrown at me like 9/10 times! All of this is because I've been working on those skills for 19 years, both by myself and through speech and physiotherapy between the ages of 5 and 9.

But then I still have major issues organising my life, I have problems going to appointments and responding to emails. My main emotion everyday is to feel unemotional and when I do feel a real, strong emotion I have a hard time showing it, often apperaing neutral or like I don't care. I still don't fully get some social concepts. My memory can be really dodgy. My handwriting is quick and spidery as it hurts my hand to write slowly and neatly and I can't use anything but cheap gel pens as anything else will smudge. I still drop food on myself or the table daily. I'm still nervous carrying mugs of tea or coffee around, in fact I actually refuse point blank to carry trays of food in cafes, as I worry so much about dropping them and I find the weight and instability difficult to handle. I get tired easily and find it hard to stand in the kitchen and cook for more than half an hour before I just end up in pain, I can't use can openers and I have a hard time chopping food. I really like doing craft stuff with my hands but I find it so hard to continue with that craft stuff as it always comes out looking horrible and I just don't have the patience to continue.

It is hard living in a constant uphill battle, with everyone around you getting on with their lives and being so "hyper" organised. But I've managed to grow so much over the years and I hope that one day soon I can move some more of the things on my "I can't do or struggle to do right now" list, and move them into my "success" or "I can just in my own way" list.

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT.6 | Virgil van Dijk

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

A/N: the moment we’ve all been waiting for! this is a long one, enjoy :)

C/W: mention of abusive relationship, blood.

WC: 5.012

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?

"The swelling has been going down thankfully. You're very lucky it's a minor injury. I've discussed your injury with both Dr. Woods and Dr. Davis, and we think you'll be back in a few weeks, though we'll have to keep monitoring it regularly. Especially since you're being included in the national team lineup." I say, filling in some important documents about Ibo's injury.

"Thank you doctor. I really hope I will be fine for the national matches." He says, French accent shining through. I give him a crooked smile, turning my full attention towards him.

"You know I can't promise you anything except that I'll help you to my upmost ability, as your physiotherapist." I state. He nods his head, acknowledging what I tell him. I give him some more instructions about how to make sure his injury doesn't get worse. He walks out of my office a while later, feeling more confident in healing faster.

I glance at my planner, checking off the appointments I had completed. Realizing I had a fifteen-minute break. I grab my phone out of my handbag, checking my messages.

I had sent my friends a couple of cute pictures I took last night, asking which one to post.

I had done my make up and dressed up out of boredom. Wanting to go back to posting on my Instagram regularly, keeping my friends and family up to date since I now lived in a different city again.

I add some other pictures to it, making it photo dump and adding a caption. I press post, scrolling through my timeline before checking the time. Next appointment: meeting with physiotherapy team.

I shove my phone in my back pocket, grabbing some documents we need before walking along the hallways to the gym, Dr. Davis would definitely be there.

I feel my stomach grumble, lunchtime was soon and I couldn't wait to eat honestly.

I walk in greeting some players who are working out hard. The faint smell of sweat and deodorant hits my nose. I scrunch my nose, trying to focus on my own perfume. I could never get used to the smell of men exercising, no matter how long I worked in this industry.

Suddenly, a ball rolls up to my feet. I turn my head to the right seeing Trent and Dom. My left hand fidgeting with the documents in my arm.

"You guys are playing two touch in the gym?"

I raise my brows at them, taking the ball and rolling it under my foot. "That's what I said. This is gym time!" I glance at a slightly frustrated Mo, chuckling at him before turning back to the other guys. "You guys sound like my parents when I was younger. Stop being an arse and kick the ball back!" Trent yells in his Scouser accent.

I gasp at him, grabbing my chest offended. "Hey, I'm only twenty-five, he's the old one!" I point to Mo as he gives me a surprised look. The other players in the gym looking up due to the slight commotion. "I am not old- I'm thirty-one!" He exclaims. I try hold back a laugh, glancing at the other players who have slight grins on their face, overhearing our banter.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, turning my head to see a slightly sweaty Virgil. A sweaty but powdery-musk smell enters my nostrils. His curly baby hairs sticking to his forehead, his signature waves slightly frizzy. He leans forward, his face close to mine.

"If he's old what am I then?" My eyes widen, feeling his minty breath fanning my face. I stare up at him for a second before I hear my name being called by Dr. Davis, who's looking at us from the entrance of the gym. "Well- I've got a meeting, you'll have to ask Trent!" I give him a sheepish smile, scooping up the ball with my foot and kicking it back to Dominik, surprising myself at the fact that I hadn't lost the football skills I had learnt in primary school.

"Train hard everyone! I'll be there James!" I yell before jogging away hearing some chuckles behind me as leave the gym.

"Since we're done discussing everything, y/n how has it been working here so far." I look up from the stack of documents, smiling at the two senior physio's.

"It's been two weeks but it feels way longer honestly, in a good way of course. Staff and player are nice and the workplace is very positive." I state. They look at me with bright smiles, looking very relieved. We chat some more before Dr. Woods dismisses me for lunch.

I bid them goodbye and walk back to my office. Putting away the documents and walking into the canteen. I fill my plate with some tasty food, remembering not eat too much since Virgil was inviting me over for dinner later.

I sit next to Clara, chatting, well more like gossiping about literally everyone.

"She cheated on him?!" I yell a little out of shock as she tells me the latest celebrity dating drama.

I take a sip of my water, swallowing before asking her more about it. Some players asking if they can sit our table. I absentmindedly nod at them, not paying attention as I'm too invested in Clara's story.

"Who cheated?" I hear a confused Curtis say. We glance at him briefly realizing multiple players at had been sitting at our table. You'd think they'd be invested in their own banter, but they quite literally had been eavesdropping our conversation.

"Why's everyone looking at us?"

I murmur to Clara, embarrassed smile on my face.

"Because you are very loud." I look at Robbo, mumbling a quick sorry before Clara and me turn back to our own conversation again, this time with way less volume.

I shove the last bites of veggies in my mouth listening to the details of her juicy story.

"Show me a picture of the guy." I say, very curious. She taps on her phone handing me it. I look at the phone screen, my mouth falling open. "She cheated on him with this?" I exclaim, totally baffled. My hand covering my mouth in disbelief.

I feel a presence behind me, turning to see Curtis look at the screen. I quirk my eyebrow at him.

"What? You girls are so loud I want to know the gossip show me!" I roll my eyes at him playfully before I show him the picture.

"Oh- was she blind or?" I laugh at his comment before I hear the guys at the table complain about wanting to see the pictures too.

I sigh before showing them the phone, hearing a couple words of disbelief. "Maybe he has a nice personality?" I hear Harvey say.

This becomes the only topic of our conversation at our table, dragging on for the next fifteen minutes. And they say women gossip more than men.

"No, it's crazier since her partner- well ex is hot."

I hear Clara say. I nod at her comment. "She's not wrong."

My eyes wander around the table as the guys seem to be more invested into the drama than us now. I chuckle at their banter, my lips curling up into a smile, dimples on display. My eyes lock with Virgil's who's sitting at the end of the table. He smiles back, and a warm feeling seeps into my chest, a faint blush covering my cheeks.

A knock on my door takes me out of my concentrated trance. I watch as the door swing open, revealing Virgil. I check the time, training must've ended early?

"What's up?" I raise a brow, fidgeting with my pen before standing up from my seat. He smirks at me and walks around to sit on the treatment table, looking very comfortable. "Something wrong?"

I walk up to him, almost standing in between his thighs due to his frame. "Nothing wrong." He says. I notice a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes.

"Why are you here then hm?" I fold my arms up to my chest, lifting my head slightly to look him in the eyes. He laughs at me before mirroring my stance. "I came here to confirm tonight, you'll be at my place at 7 right?"

"Yeah, you thought I forgot? In one day?"

He huffs, before shaking his head. "No, just confirming." He smirks, and I can’t help but wonder why he's being, so- weird?

"And I was wondering- do you have any allergies?" I raise my brows. "Why are you cooking? I instead of a fancy private chef?" I scoff, a hint of teasing in my tone.

His expression turns offended, scoffing back. "Yes, I will be cooking, you don't think I'm capable of making a nice dinner?" He retorts.

I raise my hands in defense, holding back a laugh. "Okay Mister Chef, don't get too riled up. I'll look forward to it." I study his face for a reaction, the corners of my lips tugging upwards.

"I'll show you, just be on time." He says, giving me a cocky smile. I feel my heart pound faster in my chest, that smile was to literally go feral for, I had to admit. "I'll be there just send me the address."

I put on my halter-neck dress, struggling to reach the back as I check the time. Fuck, twenty minutes until I have to leave. I fight against the flexibility of my arms some more before huffing and giving up, thanking myself for befriending my neighbor.

I walk out of my apartment, going up to Sofia's door and knocking on it. The door opens and I greet her before turning around, giving her the message. She chuckles before reaching down to zip up my dress. I turn back facing her again and give her a hug as a ‘thank you’. She whistles at me, her arms folded. "Damn girl, which lucky guy is seeing all of this tonight." I laugh at her, trying to convince her it's nothing like that, though see doesn't seem very convinced. "I doubt that, but let me know how it goes?" I nod at her before leaving back to my apartment. "Don't drink too much!" She yells after me. "I won't!"

I stand in front of my mirror, hands smoothing down my dress before I pack my handbag. I grab my lip liner, meticulously lining my lips and applying a pretty gloss on top. I breathe in and exhale slowly, my hands clammy for some crazy reason. Am I nervous? I shake my head at my distress, not believing I was nervous for something so simple. It's just dinner.

My phone buzzes on my coffee table, I grab it walking out of my apartment after being fully ready. My Notification Center being flooded by my Instagram post being liked, I smile at myself before checking the most important message. Virgil had sent his address finally.

After a half hour drive of me fighting with the directions and the navigation system, I finally arrive at his home, a nice big gate around it. Though, his house wasn't anything I expected, it was defined huge but not modern like I thought his house would be.

I reach for my phone, ready to call him but I'm stopped by the gates opening. I sigh before driving up onto his huge driveway, catching a glimpse of the other cars he owned. I hadn't seen them before at the training center.

I gather my bag, jumping out of my car and fixing my dress, walking around to his front door. The door opens, a nicely dressed Virgil smiles back at me.

Oh fuck, he looks insanely good. He's wearing a off-white polo shirt, the sleeves a little snug on his biceps, paired nicely with some black pants. His hair in his signature hairstyles and it looks like he had cleaned up his facial hair a bit.

"Hey!" I greet, stepping into his home. I glance around, noticing the touches of marble and wood decorate his home. "You look beautiful." He hums, leaning down and pulling me into a warm hug, a hand softly running down my arm. I try to stop my brain from short-circuiting, focusing instead of allowing my mind to wander.

"I really thought you weren't coming after I said I'd be cooking." His voice vibrates in my ear. The musky smell of his cologne engulfing my senses.

I pull back. "Do you think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to taste your cooking? I need to know if the 'worlds best defender' can cook a nice meal as well, no? Besides, you hurt my nose. I need some compensation for that!" He laughs at me, before leading me further into his home, keeping a hand on my back, in between my shoulder blades.

He guides me into the main room. I glance around noticing the kitchen, living room and dinning room are all on one floor, connected.

"Your house is so pretty." I breathe out, glancing at him. "Did you have it designed?" He hums, nodding. "I did but I worked with them to make it my own." He says.

He leads me to the dining table, it wasn't a huge one, the dark walnut wood giving it a cozy touch. A pretty chandelier dangling from the ceiling, casting a warm light into the room.

The table is filled with plates, wine glasses and cutlery. Most importantly the decent amount of food. He pulls back my chair to allow me to sit. I turn back to look at him. Maybe, chivalry wasn't dead. He walks around the table to sit down across from me.

I gasp, my eyes widening. "So, you made all of this?" I motion to the table with my hands, making a circle motion with my fingers.

"Of course I did, did you think I was bluffing?"

I eye him up suspiciously, raising a brow. "Well- no, but not this." I say. "You shouldn't have, training was very intensive today and you must be tired." My expression falters into a concerned one. He really did all of this, for me?

"No, it's okay. I wanted to really show you how sorry I was. Besides, I like doing things for the ones I care about." I freeze at his words, staring at him with wide eyes, he cares?

He clears his throat, before asking I want a glass of water. I nod, as he starts pouring water into a glass and handing it to me. I reach over, grabbing it and lifting the cold glass it up to my lips. My pink lip gloss leaving a stain on the edge of the glass.

"So, chef are you going to explain what you've cooked tonight?" I say, a smile tugging on my lips.

"Of course, just a second." He stands up, walking over to the glass sliding-doors leading to the backyard. He slides them open and a nice breeze blows in to the house immediately. He walks outside into the backyard, I tilt my head curiously.

Then he appears again, a big plate in his hand and a smoky smell reaching my nostrils. Steak- he'd grilled steak on his barbecue?

I follow his every move with my eyes, he walks up to me placing a piece of steak on my and his plate. He walks back to me, grabbing the plate from in front of me and cutting it. My heart practically melt at the action, my face flushing.

"Smells amazing, thank you." I say, looking up at him. My eyes following the movements of his hands. He places the plate with cut steak in front of me again, giving me a smile. "My pleasure." He says, his voice silky as ever.

He sits down again, motioning for me to start eating. "I'm not a course-meal person myself, so I just put out everything at once. I hope you're okay with that?" He makes eyes contact with me, a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh- it's fine I promise. I'm not a fan of that either." I say, shaking my head slightly. He looks at me pleased, before starting to explain every dish he had prepped.

We dig in before the food gets cold. I taste the steak, humming at the taste. It melting on my tongue. "This is insanely good. How'd you learn to cook like this? Your mom?"

He nods, a reminiscing look on his face. "That and I worked at a restaurant when I was younger. Washed the dishes, but could overhear the chefs talking about how to prepare the food all the time."

"I guess, I could actually call you chef?" He chuckles at me before suggesting I taste the spaghetti, coated in a creamy tomato sauce.

"This is really good, oh my god." I gasp at the taste, this had to be the best spaghetti I have ever eaten and I have probably eaten spaghetti in every country I had visited.

He grabs the decanter filled with red wine, I imagine him meticulously decanting it and smile to myself. "Wait- I'm driving home remember? I can't drink." I say. "You can drink it's fine. I'll drive you home, you can relax. You're my guest."

I smile at his words, watching him move carefully. I could definitely get used to being wined and dined like this again.

I notice the almost empty bottle next to it. He walks over to me to fill my wineglass. I eye the familiar label, trying to figure out where I had had it before. I didn't know much about wine, but this one was etched into my memory for some reason. He notices my confusion and gives me information about it. I think carefully as he speaks, finally remembering where I had had it before. I mentally slap myself for remembering the shitty memory.

I had it on a date with Theo at a three star Michelin restaurant. He had asked the waiter for their 'very good red wine' in the rudest way possible, embarrassing me in the process. Then he'd bragged about the bottle being worth seven grand the entire dinner. A chill travels down my spine, remembering how he'd lashed out at me later for 'ogling the waiter' in his twisted words.

Wait-? This bottle is worth seven thousand and I'm being served it on a simple dinner? I snap out of my thoughts before looking at the glass of wine in front of me. Looking back at Virgil, trying to not look as shocked as I am right now.

"Something wrong? You don't like it-" I interrupt him. "No, I just remembered we're I've had this wine before, that's it."

He raises a brow. "Where have you had it?" I give him an awkward smile, before dismissing it. "Not the best memory, but this will probably make me forget it." I chuckle at him.

We continue to eat in a comfortable silence for a while before he breaks it. "I know you've told us about yourself, but tell me more. I want to learn more about you." He says, small smile on his face.

"What do you want to know?" I say. "Tell me more about your upbringing, how you grew up."

I take a sip of the wine, it's taste coating my mouth. I explain my childhood to him, as he occasionally chimes in to tell a story he relates to. I smile at myself, feeling very comfortable.

"To be fully honest, I don't have the best relationship with my parents. Mainly, because growing up they'd always been more busy with their business, so they were physically and emotionally pretty absent. Though, I don't know if I could complain- I mean their determination for work made it possible for me to grow up comfortably. Even though it meant I had to raise myself sometimes."

He nods, acknowledging my feelings telling me about his relationship with his father and how it had shaped him as a person. "I guess, we aren't so different after all hm?"

We finish dinner and I can't help but glance into his backyard, noticing my curiosity, he offers to take a walk in his backyard. I nod eagerly as we walk along the neatly designed pool tiles. "Do you swim a lot when it's sunny?" I ask him. "I do, but I love swimming when it's colder. The jacuzzi is the best when it's cold." I roll my eyes at him playfully. "Must be nice." I mock as he laughs at me.

The sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. I shiver as a cold breeze blows past me, making my teeth clatter slightly. Virgil notices as he interrupts himself, looking at me concerned. "Are you cold?” A shy smile forms on my lips, nodding at him. He walks back into his house, quickly walking back out with a white sweater in his arms.

He walks up to me, carefully pulling the sweater over my head. I imagine to not smudge my make up. I shiver at the touch of his hands on my arms, holding back a surprised gasp. His hand goes up to fix my hair, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Thank you." He smirks at me, an unknown look in his eyes as he glances down at me.

"Do you want to go back inside?" I nod at Virgil, walking back into his house alongside him. He tells me sit at the kitchen island as he cleans up the table, forcing me stop helping him with cleaning. "I said you're my guest, please go sit down and have some more wine."

This leads to me sipping on the seven thousand pound wine like it's orange juice, sitting onto the bar stool and leaning against the marble island, my elbows propped up on it. I watch him rinse off the dishes and cutlery before placing them into the dishwasher. I don't know if it's the wine or not but looking at his back, cleaning the kitchen with gloves on made him look so- husband material, it feels almost too domestic. Though, it definitely made him look so hot, that was for sure the effect of the wine. Sober me would never, right?

I let out a soft giggle, my face was probably insanely flushed. He turns back to look at me, chuckling to himself as he washed his hands. Walking up to me and holding onto my shoulders to stabilize me. He looks at me before looking at the nearly empty decanter.

"Are you drunk?" I look up at him, a sheepish smile on my face. "Not yet." I laugh and his chocolate brown eyes gaze into mine. I unconsciously hold my breath, he looked insanely pretty from this proximity. I try get off of the bar stool as he tries to hold me back stabilizing me again, fixing the white sweater. I huff at him. "I'm not drunk, I swear." I whine, hearing a deep chuckle leave his throat. His big hand engulfs mine as he holds onto to it, my soft skin grazing against his slightly calloused palms. He places a cold glass of water in my hand.

He starts gathering the wineglass and nearly empty decanter in front of me and puts them away. I press my lips onto the edge of the glass, sipping onto the water as I follow his movement from behind it. A sudden familiar tune makes me jerk my head around, looking for the origin of the sound. I catch the glowing screen of my phone, left at the dinner table. I get off the bar stool, half-full glass still in my hand as I make my way towards it.

I pick it up, taking notice of the anonymous number calling me. I glance up at Virgil, seeing that he's still busy with cleaning up and look back at my phone again. Who would be calling my phone at eight thirty in the evening? My finger hovers over the green circle, eventually pressing it quickly, lifting the phone up to my ear, my left hand fidgeting with the glass.

"Hello?" I mutter, holding my breath awaiting an answer back. I catch Virgil turning around, eyeing me confused, but his face relaxes when he realizes I'm on the phone.

I furrow my eyebrows, my face twisting into confusion as no one speaks back, the only sound being of someone's breathing in my ear. I start pulling the phone away from my ear, but I freeze at the sound of someone's voice breaking the silence.

"Now you're picking up the phone? you fucking bitch!" The person shouts, a sinister tone lacing his voice. Theo.

I gasp, jolting at the voice. My hand jerks, letting the glass of water slip through my hands. The loud sound of the glass splitting into millions of pieces deafening my ears. Water splashes up, pieces of glass cut through my skin, a painful stinging feeling on my face. My eyes widen in shock, disassociating for a second before I'm pulled out of it by Virgil's hands on my waist, gently carrying me away from the glass.

I blink multiple times, trying to focus at what just happened. My hand falls to my side, the screen being seen by Virgil as he takes it out of my hand, hanging up on the caller.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" He mutters, looking very worried. He grips onto my shoulders, shaking me slightly. I avert my eyes to him, eyes still wide in shock.

Tears cloud my vision, gathering at the corner of my eyes before rolling down my cheeks. I feel his thumb caressing them away, his other hand traveling to my nape and pulling me into his chest. I shake in his hold, his arm wrapping around my shoulder as he caresses my hair.

I feel his shirt become wet as my tears fall.

"It's okay, you're safe." He mutters into my ear softly, his frame enveloping me tightly. My breath hitches, pulling away from him and noticing the blood- and some make up stains on his shirt.

"Blood and the glass- I'm so sorry-" he shushes me, wiping away the tears falling down. "It's fine. You're the one bleeding, again." I look up at him with glossy eyes, he was right. I kept getting myself in these bloody embarrassing situations, with him.

He glances down my body, noticing some cuts on my legs as well. His arm travels down to the back of my knees, stabilizing his hold on my back before carrying me bridal style onto his big sofa.

He puts me down in the corner of the sofa gently, the soft fabric pressing comfortably against my skin. He walks away and comes back with a first-aid kit, treating the small cuts carefully.

"Who was that calling you hm?" His gaze pierces into my eyes. I avert his gaze, focusing on him treating my cuts instead. "Do you know the caller?" He presses on, treating the last cut on my face, a silent curse ringing through my mind.

"y/n- tell me." His fingers pinch my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. I let out a silent huff before pulling my legs up to my chest, he grabs the blanket on the edge of the couch, draping it over my naked legs.

I open my mouth to speak, my eyes wandering around the house, fidgeting with the blanket. Was I really about to trauma dump on my patient?

"I- it's personal I can't-" he interrupts a stern look on his face. "y/n." I sigh, a lump forming in my throat, I try swallowing it down.

"My ex- it was my ex boyfriend." I breathe out, scanning his face for a change of expressions. He furrows his brows, looking at me skeptically.

"There's more to it. Am I right?" He says softly, caressing the palm of my hand.

I swallow again, trying to croak out the words I had been keeping to myself this entire time. "Tell me." He encourages.

"We dated for five years, met him when working for Ajax, moved with me to Barcelona later. His mother is a big sponsor in the football industry. I broke up with him after he started becoming- more and more- umh abusive and controlling. That's why I got a job at this club and moved here." My voice cracks towards the end of my sentence.

A soft hum leaves his lips, a tender look in his eyes. "I'm sorry." "It's not your fault obviously, I just got shocked by hearing his voice. I'm sorry for the glass and your shirt-." I narrow my eyes at the mess next to the dining table, fragments of glass and water everywhere.

"It's okay. It's fine, as long as you're fine." He mumbles and I almost don't catch the end of his sentence.

"Do you want to watch a movie? To take your mind off it hm?" His voice a little deeper as he looks at me waiting for answer. I nod, too exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions I experienced in a short amount of time to reply with words.

He turns on the TV, across us, mounted on the huge wall. The bright light emitting from it making me cringe and squint my eyes. I shift from my position, sinking back into the sofa. He chooses a movie I had never heard of, the soft blaring of the actors calming me down as Virgil sits back as well, our bodies closer now.

A warm, comfortable feeling seeps into my chest, my eyes fluttering shut. My last conscious memory being, my forehead touching something broad and warm, a hand caressing my hair softly.

[days-until-burnout]

Day 12 -

Characters - Pearl & Lizzie & Etho (Joel mention) Words - 1,151 Time - 60 mins Content - Hybrid/Flight AU | hurt/comfort

It had been a while. 

A very long while. 

When she looked out of the windows, she saw nothing but clouds. Covering every inch of earth under her. All white and fluffy, nothing that would break her fall if she… Well, when she jumped. 

A knot stuck on her throat, making it incredibly hard to breathe, which in turn made her panic, and panicking was the last thing she needed when she was too many feet above ground. She clutched at the front of her jumpsuit, felt her thundering heart against the knuckle of her ring finger, the button pressed against her closed palm. It was sweaty suddenly, her palm, a cold rushed down her back then heated up right after. 

Her wings twitched. 

She was scared. 

In the background, white noise to her ears, the radio came online. The conversation went on without her output, coordinates and updates she couldn’t afford to think about. Her whole being vibrated with the helicopter, as one and apart, heavy on her seat. Maybe she wasn’t made for this, for the adrenaline of flying, and maybe she was better off on land where she would never touch the clouds and the sky again. It was safer on land, away from the world she was made to conquer. 

She couldn’t do this. 

“SL-17 stand-by.”

Pearl lowered her hand, clutching onto the seatbelt across her chest, the thing keeping her safe when her wings cowered like her. Her vision was hazy until she found a head of pink, seated on the captain’s seat, handling the vehicle with refined skill. There was a calmness yet authority in her movements, every flicker of switch, every button pressed, every slight tilt of the yoke. Lizzie was the captain, this was her terrain. 

“Lizzie– I can’t– I don’t think I can do this—”

“What? Of course you can, Pearl. You’ve been training for months, almost two years even. You are ready.”

Her throat closed. She felt dizzy. The world was spinning suddenly, and she was unstable on her seat. Her heart was shattering too, piece by piece at the realization that she was letting down their whole crew, everyone who had part-taken in her recovery, in her physiotherapy so she could come back to this. To the skies, to the world where she belonged— All of them,  she was letting all of them down. 

And most importantly, she was failing her pilot, her partner. Lizzie deserved better. She couldn’t do better. 

She couldn’t do this. 

“SL-12 speaking. SL-17, do you copy?” 

Pearl pried her eyes away, looked down at her lap, her white-knuckled fist. 

“SL-17 back online,” Lizzie greeted back, calmly, like there wasn’t something they needed to talk about soon, “update? Please say Joel waited for clearance before jumping.”

A chuckle. Pearl tried to not throw up. 

“Negative. There is nothing stopping Joel from… you know.”

Lizzie laughed, “Yeah. Hey, Etho? Got a minute?”

There was a pause. Pearl closed her eyes, tried to imagine she was on ground. It’d be time soon. To make her decision. Fail everyone who had been cheering for her, or… fly again.

“Sure. I’ll keep around in the air regardless. Joel is going to try fly back in in a while, so you’ve got me here for a while.” Pearl wanted to grab Lizzie’s headset, beg him to fly her down, she couldn’t do this. She wanted to go home and curl up in her bed, never to see sunlight again. There were jobs that would allow that, she could completely flip her sleep schedule, there were options other than this.

“It’s Pearl. She said she can’t.”

“Can’t? Is her wing hurting? Feeling sick?”

“I don’t know. She said she thinks she can’t do this. What should I do, Etho?”

A pause. Pearl wanted to cry. All this time wasted. She almost wished her wing had never healed. Would it have been better, then, to lose something she loved? Because she loved this, flying. Being in the sky. Would she give all this up? She couldn’t decide. Couldn’t say it. 

“I will fly down too, then. Meet you on ground.”

“Wait!”

Another pause. She wanted to force herself, move her body. She wanted to so badly. But there was a block in her mind, in her actions, something that stopped her from doing it, doing this. 

“It’s alright, Pearl,” Etho said on the other side, a softennes in his voice she didn’t deserve, “we can talk on ground. Just hang in there. Joel and I will meet you two shortly; SL-12 out.”

It happened too quickly. The call ended, and in a blink, they were on ground. She wanted to apologize to Lizzie, wanted to cry at the pity looks others gave her, wanted to go home and forget about her failure. Her wings clung tightly to her back, almost wishing to not be. She hated the feeling. Hated hating a part of herself like that. Her mind was a mess. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready.

When she looked at Lizzie, her pilot, her companion, her partner, the tears didn’t wait, spilling out soon after. She walked over, wrapped her arms around her, whispered reassurances she wanted to believe. It was okay. Everything was fine. They would try again tomorrow. 

Pearl hugged Lizzie tight, falling to pieces in her arms. Her words, her apologies were hiccups. All broken in sobs, her soul tearing apart at the seems. 

“You are okay,” Lizzie said softly, running her fingers through her hair, soothing. “No one is mad at you. We couldn’t possibly be. It’s hard, isn’t it? Going back up there after so long. I know, Pearl, I know, it’s okay. We will try again tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after, and we will keep trying until you can. I know you can, we know you can. It’s only a matter of time. And we have time to wait.”

There were footsteps. Lizzie let go with lingering touches, a hand caressing her face, a thumb wiping the tears. Then another set of arms wrapped around her, tightly. She cried on Etho’s shoulder, Lizzie’s hand finding its way to her shoulder. She wished she could do more, be better. They deserved better, more than this. She was a failure, how could she not be? She failed them. Failed everyone. Failed herself. 

‘You need to rest.’

‘Do I have to? I’m fine, you know. It’s just my wing.’

A headshake. A smile. 

‘Hey, doctor’s orders. Don’t look at me.’

She sighs. ‘When do you think I’ll be ready?’

‘Hm? To fly? I guess when your wing heals.’

‘I can’t wait. I miss it. Being up there. I can’t wait.’

They laugh. They lay down. Stare at the clear sky. She raises her hand to the sky, closes her fist on the sun. 

“Let’s go home,” Etho whispered into her hair. She could only nod. 

_____

so this was supposed to be a tom cruise moment, but uh, well, i wrote too slowly and got too distracted with the doubt and ran out of time. replaces your happy go luck action scene with sad i guess 😭 anyways, this will for sure have a continuation because my girl pearl will fly again goddamnit. for now, we ignore the lore because there is no lore, absolutely not :] also, well, this was supposed to be pearl/lizzie but i ran out of time 🧍‍♂️ justice for my girls damn

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (7/8) umbrella edition: Tatiana

TW: childbirth, blood, mentions of chronic illness

October 1, 1989. Moscow, Russia. 18 seconds before noon. (Also please forgive me for misgendering Viktor since this is chronologically meant to be before he transitioned)

Tatiana Barinova was a 14-year-old girl with a knack for mathematics. She was standing in front of the gates of the Moscow State Pedagogical Institute, waiting impatiently for her best friend, Katya, to arrive. It was a cool autumn day, and the air smelled of leaves and wet concrete. Tatiana shifted from foot to foot, tugging at her oversized sweater. She didn't like being late, but her parents' old car had broken down again, and she had to take the bus.

For context, Tatiana had severe Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA), which caused her joints to swell and made it difficult for her to move. At first she was administered joint injections every week, but she experienced negative side effects, so her doctors switched her to a aquatic physiotherapy program. It was a long and arduous process, but it was the only way for her to keep her condition under control.

As Tatiana got on her swimwear, she could see her friend approaching. Katya, who was only two minutes late, was already out of breath. "Sorry, Tanya," she gasped, "I had to run the rest of the way." She held out her hand to help her friend up. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk with you?"

Tatiana accepted her friend's help and winced slightly as she stood up. "No, no, I'll be fine," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Let's just hurry up and get to class."

As they walked side by side, Tatiana couldn't help but steal glances at Antony, a boy in their class who she had a crush on. He was tall, with messy brown hair and a crooked smile that lit up his entire face. He was talking to some of their other classmates, and every time he laughed, Tatiana felt a warmth spread through her chest. She wished she could muster the courage to talk to him, but her shyness always got the better of her.

"So, Tanya," Katya said, breaking into her thoughts. "What's new with you?"

"Oh, you know," Tatiana replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just the usual. Math, physio, trying not to get lost in the halls. How about you?"

Katya rolled her eyes. "You know I meant something exciting, Tanya. Come on, you're always so quiet about your feelings. Spill it."

Tatiana hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I was thinking of applying for a summer program in Leningrad," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "They have this amazing music school there, and I've always wanted to become a violinist."

Katya clapped her hands together in excitement. "That's fantastic, Tanya! I knew you could do it. You've always been so talented with the violin. I bet you'd get in too."

Tatiana's cheeks flushed with excitement as she and Katya continued their walk to class. The prospect of attending a summer program in Leningrad was exhilarating, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of determination welling up inside her. She knew that getting into the music school there would be no easy feat, but she was willing to work hard to make her dream a reality.

Once everyone was in the pool, their swim teacher, Miss Olga, instructed them to pair up and practice their synchronized swimming skills. Katya and Tatiana found themselves partnered up, and after a few moments of awkwardness, they began to follow Miss Olga's instructions. As they moved through the water together, their bodies forming graceful shapes and patterns, Tatiana couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and joy. For a brief moment, her discomfort with her arthritis disappeared, replaced by the sheer exhilaration of being able to move like this.

She glanced over at Antony, who was swimming with a girl named Svetlana. They seemed to be having a good time too, laughing and joking as they performed their routine. Tatiana wished she could be as confident and outgoing as Svetlana, but she knew that her shyness often held her back.

"Hey, Tatiana," Antony said, swimming closer to her as they waited for the teacher to give them a new instruction. His voice was deep and smooth, making her heart flutter. "You know, you're really good at that violin. I've always wanted to learn how to play."

"Oh, thank you," she replied, her cheeks flushing. "And you should! It's never too late to start. You'd be really good at it."

Antony grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "Well, maybe I'll ask you to teach me someday. I hear you're pretty good at it too."

"Oh, I'm not that great," Tatiana demurred, blushing again. "But it would be nice to have someone to practice with."

Antony grinned and splashed her playfully. "Well, I'm sure I can find something we can practice together after class. Maybe something less...wet," he teased.

As they continued their routine, Tatiana couldn't help but feel a connection with Antony. He was charming and attentive, and she found herself losing track of time when they were together. It was a welcome distraction from her usual worries about her arthritis and the pressure to succeed academically.

She jumped in the pool, the cool water enveloping her body and sending a shiver down her spine. The pool was deep, and the water lapped gently against the sides, creating a soothing rhythm. The sun beat down on her skin, warming her up, and she felt her muscles relax as she began to swim. As she glided through the water, her strokes fluid and graceful, she couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom. For a brief moment, she forgot about her arthritis, her worries, and her responsibilities.

But then, the twelfth bell tolled, and something shifted inside her. As she broke the surface of the water, her breath caught in her throat. She was no longer surrounded by blood. The water around her was crystal clear, and the only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the fact that she was...heavier. Very heavy. She tried to move her arms, but they felt numb and awkward, as if they weren't connected to her body properly. Her belly protruded outwards, swollen and round.

"Tatiana!" called out Antony, his voice alarmed. "Are you okay?"

Tatiana tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound came out. Her heart raced as she felt another contraction begin, her belly tightening uncomfortably. She reached down between her legs and felt something warm and wet, the water around her pooling around her feet. Fear gripped her as she realized that her water had broken.

Soon, the whole class was encircling her, their faces filled with a mix of awe and concern. Some of the women had already called for help, and the pool manager was rushing over with a phone in one hand and a towel in the other. As the contractions became more intense, Antony moved closer to her, his hands steadying her as she leaned against the edge of the pool. Her legs glistening from the water, she let out a sharp cry, her body tensing as the pain coursed through her.

The baby was immediately wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. Her mother, still basking in the glow of her miraculous birth, looked down at her child with awe and wonder. The room was filled with a sense of serenity and peace, as if time itself had paused to witness this momentous occasion.

The pool manager, having already called for medical assistance, busied herself with making sure everyone was comfortable and attended to. She glanced over at the new parents and smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with tears of joy. "Congratulations," she said, her voice filled with genuine emotion. "You've just brought a beautiful soul into this world."

A girl was sent to the nearest GUM to pick up garments for the baby. She arrived with a bag full of soft, fluffy clothes, carefully chosen by the new parents. The baby, now clean and warm, was dressed in a pink and white onesie with a delicate lace trim, and a blue hat to match. As the GUM girl handed over the bundle, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the mother, still basking in the glow of her miraculous birth.

(The colors of the baby's clothes is also foreshadowing of his eventual transgender identity.)

As Tatiana caressed her child’s hand, she looked around the room, her eyes filling with awe and wonder. The women who had gathered around them were like a coven of ancient priestesses, their faces etched with the wisdom of countless births and the strength of countless loves. She felt a newfound sense of belonging in this circle of life, a connection to something greater than herself.

"Miss Olga, there’s some old mushroom faced man here," announced the front desk girl. "He says it's important." Miss Olga sighed, already feeling irritated by the interruption. She motioned for the man to enter her office. As he stepped inside, she couldn't help but notice his dapper appearance: the expertly tailored suit, the crisp white shirt, and the perfectly knotted tie. It was almost as if he'd stepped out of a 1950s movie poster.

"Good morning, Miss Olga," the man said with a warm smile, extending his hand. "My name is Reginald. I was hoping we could discuss something in private." Miss Olga hesitated for a moment, her curiosity piqued. She took his hand and led him to a comfortable chair in the corner of the room.

"Now, what is it that you wish to discuss?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

"Well, Miss Olga, I'm here on behalf of an old friend of mine. You see, he's rather...old-fashioned. He believes in traditional values, and he's always dreamt of having a family. He's even prepared to adopt, if necessary. But he's always been rather fond of the idea of having a biological child, and I believe that your Tatiana's newborn daughter might just be the answer to his prayers."

(Likely story)

Reginald paused, choosing his words carefully. He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze steady and earnest. "Now, I understand that this is a delicate matter, and I'm not here to pressure you or the mother in any way. But I thought it was worth a shot to at least discuss the possibility. My friend is more than willing to provide a loving home and all the financial support necessary for the child's upbringing."

Miss Olga listened intently, her expression thoughtful. She knew that the adoption process in Moscow was notoriously strict, and she wondered if Reginald's friend truly understood the challenges they might face. Still, she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope in her chest. Perhaps this could be a solution for Tatiana and her newborn daughter.

“You have six babies with you already," Miss Olga pointed out. "All of whom are languishing in a hot car while you're here. I'm not sure what you expect me to do with another child."

Tatiana's heart skipped a beat as she overheard Reginald's proposition. A sense of dread filled her, and she felt her grip on the baby tighten. She looked around the room, searching for any sign of support or understanding. But the other women were busy tending to the other infants, lost in their own worlds of love and loss.

Miss Olga, the swim instructor, was the only one who seemed to register Tatiana's discomfort. "I'm afraid you misunderstand," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "This is not a marketplace, Mr. Reginald. These children are not commodities. They are precious lives, entrusted to our care until they can find their forever families."

Tatiana's heart was racing as she listened to Miss Olga speak. She knew that the woman was right; these children were precious lives, not mere commodities. But she also couldn't deny the desperation she felt, the fear that her baby would never have a home or a family. She glanced down at her daughter, still wrapped in the blanket, and her resolve began to waver.

She entered the room, meeting Reginald's stare with a mixture of defiance and despair. Tatiana was hardly more than a girl herself, her body still bearing the weight of pregnancy despite the newborn nestled against her chest. The other women in the room, all older and more experienced, exchanged knowing glances as they tended to the six other infants scattered about the floor. But it was the look on Reginald's face that unsettled her the most.

"I understand your situation, my dear," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Times are hard, and I can't even begin to imagine the desperation you must feel. But I assure you, I am not here to take advantage of you."

Tatiana looked at him skeptically, her eyes darting back and forth between him and her precious daughter. She wanted to believe him, but the desperation was like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to think clearly.

"If you were to give me the chance to raise your baby girl, I could promise you that she would grow up in a loving home, with all the opportunities in the world. (You forgot to mention the part of ostracizing him from his siblings and calling him “ordinary", but oh well!) I would give her the best education, introduce her to the finest arts and literature, and make sure that she knows just how special and loved she is. I would be there for her every step of the way, guiding her through life's triumphs and tribulations."

Tatiana's heart ached as she listened to Reginald's words. He seemed sincere, but how could she be sure? He was a stranger, an old man who currently had seven children languishing in a hot car. Still, the thought of her daughter growing up in a loving home, with all the opportunities Tatiana could only dream of, was almost too much to bear. She glanced down at her daughter, still wrapped in the blanket, and felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

"I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I want the best for her. I want her to have a good life."

Reginald nodded, understanding the depth of her emotions. He reached out and gently took the blanket-wrapped bundle from her arms, cradling the tiny form against his chest. "I understand that, Tatiana. And I promise you, if you were to entrust your daughter to me, I would make sure that she has everything she needs to live a wonderful life. She would grow up knowing that she is loved, and that her future is bright."

Tatiana's heart ached as she watched Reginald hold her daughter, but something in his words, in the way he looked at her child, filled her with a sense of peace. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her trembling hands. "Okay... okay," she whispered. "I... I trust you."

The weight on her chest seemed to lift a fraction as she watched Reginald nod, his expression softening. "Thank you, Tatiana," he said quietly. "I promise you, I will never bring harm to your daughter. I will love her and cherish her as if she were my own." (Yeah, I'm sure the other six kids in the car will feel just as cherished.)

"But you must not contact her," Reginald said, his voice gentle but firm as he met her gaze. "It would not be safe for either of you. The world is a dangerous place, Tatiana, and people like you and I... well, we can't always protect those we love from its harsh realities."

Tatiana bit her lip, the conflicting emotions warring within her. On one hand, she desperately wanted to keep her daughter safe and close, but on the other, she knew that Reginald was right. She couldn't keep her in hiding forever.

"I... I understand," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll find a way to live with that knowledge. Just... please, take care of her. Make sure she has a good life."

Tatiana forced herself to let go of her daughter, relinquishing her last physical connection to the child she had carried for nine months. As she watched Reginald place the blanket-wrapped bundle into the TRUNK of the car, she fought back the urge to stop him, to take her baby back and run away. But she knew that it was too late for that. The world outside was too dangerous for them both.

(Though the fact that the other six kids got to sit up front in the car and Viktor was stuffed in the glove compartment probably didn't help with the whole "cherished" thing.)

[czarnoxiestwo]

Let me display an array of negative emotions in public for a sec

I feel like I haven't been this low in ages. I'm seriously considering changing my career to something less interesting but maybe a little more stable. I almost wrote 'less fulfilling' instead of 'less interesting' here but the point is - it's more stressful than fulfilling at this point.

Impostor syndrome is a quiet constant for me but it seriously seems like I'm far behind other people I know who started tattooing around the same time as I did. It's like I'm walking in circles, not actually acquiring any new skills, at least not in a sensible timeframe. And being stressed about not being as competent as I should be while having to pretend like I am is not the best learning environment which completes this circle. I work with people who are both younger than me and technically more competent than me which is discouraging in the sad, tired and resigned kind of way. (I should point out that I did the right thing at the very beginning - but you can still go through apprenticeship that doesn't point you in the right direction or provide any actual practical advice, not to mention solid skills). What's more, I feel like it hurt my general artistic abilities, not giving me enough room (energy and mental capacity) to grow through experimentation, exercise that my 'waste' my time or creating more time-consuming projects. I taught myself how not to rely on inspiration (which is actually a very useful skill) but I usually use it to create things at the merely passable level that a perfectly average client finds acceptable and will graciously agree to use instead of some random picture stolen from Pinterest. I love doing art, I want to do art - I don't know if tattooing is the kind of art I should be doing or if the art should be my main source of income in general.

My client base (as little as it was) pretty much crumbled away with only some people coming back from time to time but even then I see they don't have much money to spend (nor I expect them to). I don't know if I'm too awkward around strangers (I'm can be pretty awkward) for clients to actually want to work with me on a purely vibe based level or people just aren't interested in what I have to offer art-wise. I'd say my skills have something to do with that but I know (of) tattooers with absolutely abysmal works still managing to be fully booked. Being a queer person in a not that big of a city also means I have to be selective about who I'm willing to work with because my safety may depend on it. I know the self-promotion is an important part of being any kind of professional artist in this capitalist hell but to be frank, I fucking suck at it. I loathe fake-fun fake-energetic artistic content. I hate content-content, to be honest. At the same time I don't hate social media as a concept, I'm more of a shitposter type of guy though and I don't know if I'm brave enough to let it spill into my public facing profiles - both because of my safety as mentioned above but also because it my scare potential clients even more. In consequence my financial stability kind of doesn't exist at this moment.

I'm burned out but I don't do enough to be burned out. I need a break but I cannot afford to have a break. This job takes its toll on a body too. I need a regular physiotherapy for my arm, and fuckes my eyes even more than they're fucked by themselves (a lot). Sometimes I wonder how for how long I'll be able to continue this career before my body says no.

I'm just constantly stressed and worried, and I'm not sure what to do.

[kenziemeadowscottage]

My Witchcraft Journey

When I was first learning about witchcraft at the age of 10 I thought that Wicca and having a coven was everything!

I unfortunately had no real guidance or mentors so I had dropped studying until I was 18. Even then I was on and off studying it and wasn’t taught a lot of basic practices because I didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t until I was in my early 20’s did it finally click and I tried to learn about spirituality more as I realised that Wicca wasn’t the right path for me.

I still believed that I needed a mentor to guide me and then life kept getting in my way so once again, I dropped my study. At 24 I managed to finally get more serious about my studies. I started learning shadow work and doing prompts, I was reading more, and I managed to heal my inner child through this! 💕

When I was almost 25 I had both of my hips and knees collapse on me. This was what the universe had been warning me would happen when I kept pulling The Tower, The Hanged Man, and pretty much every other card card which means “stop and rest!”. 🌙

A couple of months later my partner got me a new tarot deck for our 5th anniversary. I had been wanting a new deck because I could never connect with the deck I had completely. Through this I was able to fully immerse myself into my studies and into healing. 🌸

I had stopped caring about finding a mentor, about having a group to work with, and just focused on myself and my path. I was healing because I wanted to become my authentic self. It was then I realised that the solitary path was right for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love doing group meditation nights and working with others! I just don’t need that all of the time and I appreciate the times I do get to be in a group setting. I have made some amazing friends who are also spiritually inclined, and I managed to inspire my partner to finally start his own path into Occultism! 🥰

I find that the solitary path isn’t that lonely for me. I love having my own practice that’s special to me, and I love sharing my stories and experiences with those who understand witchcraft!

Fast forward to 2024 and my hips and knees are starting to get better through physiotherapy, I’ve become a lot more confident in my practice, and I’ve started to become a person that I love being. 🥰

A year and a half later and here I am! Things have gotten a little easier but of course, I still slip up sometimes. I’ve been studying my path consistently, I can see the improvement with my skills and confidence, and I was able to start this blog!

I still struggle sometimes but I keep trying and keep restarting when I realise I slipped up. ✨

That’s what healing through witchcraft is for me. It’s about being kind to yourself, having small low effort daily rituals to help you through the hard days, and bringing more love and happiness into your life.