#idk why i am suddenly very emotional about it

[soldier-poet-king]

I do not like being Perceived or Referred to As Gender but I just now realized that I DO love being a sister. Not a daughter. Not a granddaughter. Not a woman or a girl or anything. Hate that shit. Skin crawls. Death death death for a thousand years.

But a sister? I could do that

[castletemprwine]

what gets me is how fall out boy is always always remembering and paying tribute to their roots. how they're always making references to past songs and videos and have been doing that for the entirety of their career. how those references never feel self inflating but instead are always injected with this air of gratefulness and reverence. for their fans and for each other and for the music that brings them all together. they've always been hyperaware of their place in the industry and so they never take any of it for granted and. it's like every night on stage is a thank you and a promise. like, it's been the four of them for twenty years. they've ended all their shows with the same song for twenty years. and it's like, never trust a band that wouldn't bleed for you. it's like, fall out boy forever and ever and ever

[jimines]

.

[adventuringblind]

Hello darling🫶🏼 I hope everything is okay🥹 I love the way you write, it’s sooo feel so real!

I have a request Lando x fem!reader, were she is Italian and she’s working for another team. So they live this relationship for so long distant, and she can’t go at every race as a McLaren supporter, but , and that’s situation make the things between them very difficult. So at some point, when everything looks like an end, he decide to ask her to live with him in Monaco.

Idk I feel this a little bit angst but happy in the end.🥺🥺

Thanks for all of your works, are amazing😍

Monaco Bound

Lando Norris x Ferrari Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Lando is lonely, and Refer thinks he doesn't want her around. Turns out Lando just doesn't know how to ask. Featuring Max being blunt and the Ferrari boys trying to be emotional support.

Warnings: miscommunication, Lando is anxious, reader is so confused

Notes: Just so you are all aware, I am getting to requests! I've been working on the series more, as well as my works on AO3. Sorry it's taking so long, everyone!

Masterlist

Everyone says long distance is difficult. And when your partner needs physical contact and quality time, they really aren't joking.

Her and Lando had been making long-distance work for the last year and a half. Her living in Italy for work and Lando living in Monaco. Sure, they see each other in at races, but working for different teams really doesn't help anything.

Hope came in the form of teleworking. Finally, they'd managed to make it so she could do work from home, working remotely from the factory.

Did she tell Lando? Yes. Was she hoping to move to Monaco with him? Also, yes. But she also didn't want to just straight up ask him. That could make him uncomfortable, and then it would be awkward. Instead, she leaves it alone. Patiently waiting for Lando to maybe ask her.

On the other side of things, Lando could not decide whether his girlfriend simply isn't into him anymore, he had done something wrong, or she's just shy. He wants her to come live with him. To the point where he has broken down over in when he's alone in bed at night.

The next race weekend, he caught her talking with Charles and Carlos. Knawing insecurities creeping their way up his throat. He avoided all three for the rest of the day.

No phone calls were answered. No texts responded to. Always going to opposite direction. Was he being petty? Possibly, but he needed to think this through.

That night, he's shocked when Max comes knocking at his door. Lando opens the door and greets his friend cheerfully. Max though, looks solem.

"Wanna talk about why your girlfriend is acting like she's killed you?"

Lando's face dropped. "What?"

Max shoves past him and takes a seat in one of the chairs at the small table. "Carlos and Charles are worried also. They tried consoling her, but she's hysterical mate. Thinks you don't love her or something."

Again, Lando's face drops. She thinks he doesn't love her? She believes she did something wrong? He's misread this situation entirely.

"I- I thought that - that she was falling out of love." He admits. His face turns away from Max to the floor.

"She was raving to Carlos and Charles that she's finally able to work from home and wants to live in Monaco with you, but you hadn't asked."

"Why didn't she ask to live with me?"

"Maybe she didn't want to seem rude?"

And suddenly Lando is running out the door. Sprinting to his car to get to the hotel he knows she's staying at. With the room number she'd given late last night when she arrived.

It's a blur, really, the trip from point A to point B. He doesn't come back to reality until he's staring at her door. He can hear the muffled sobs on the other side.

He knocks. She opens. They collapse into each other.

"I thought you didn't want to come live with me."

"You idiot. Of course I want to live with you! I love you!"

"I'm your idiot."

Does she move to Monaco? Yes. Is Lando like a koala bear clinging to her every second of the day? Absolutely.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

~

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

~

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

~

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

~

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

~

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

~

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

[ryxiez]

5:09 am

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Genera ➛ comfort

Pairing ➛ idol!felix x gn!reader

Word Count ➛ 750

Warnings ➛ lots of sweet nicknames

AN: this is my first time stamp thing, idk if I need to do anything special for it but oh well

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Taglist: @uno7

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The sun hadn’t even made its way above the ground before you feel your bed and the sheets tussle around. Slow and quiet movements stir your peaceful rest as the arms that held you close finally pulled away.

You mumbled incoherent words in protest to the warmth leaving your side only for a groggy voice to hush you in return.

"It's okay my love, just go back to sleep..."

And so you did. Following instructions, your eyes closed once again, but something was different. The comfort the figure provided was gone.

All of a sudden a wave of sadness hit you hard. A frown adorned your face as you rolled out of bed and rubbed your sleepy eyes.

Slowly stumbling into the living room you found your missing piece. Felix was there throwing a coat over his shoulders and making his was to the front door, presumably to grab his shoes then go on his merry way.

"Baby?" Your voice called out, slightly horse from just waking up.

His head shot in your direction suddenly before his eyes softened along with the rest of his body.

"Where are you going?" You asked as you could feel tears start to well in your eyes.

You didn't know why you were getting emotional over something so trivial. You knew your boyfriend was a busy man, but something about not waking up next to him properly made you feel upset. It was always your favorite part of the day, but right now your mind was too foggy to think straight.

"I'm sorry sweetie, work called me in again, something about a special meeting. But I thought I told you to go back to bed?" He said, walking your way, obviously teasing.

"You know that... I can't sleep without you very well." You reminded him as you tried to not stumble over your words.

His arms enveloped you into a tight hug, one hand cradling your head and the other wrapped around your waist. His thumb rubbing small circles into your hip.

"I know, honey. I'm very sorry... but how about this..." He offered before you pulled your head away to look him in the eyes. "I'll take a vacation day this Friday... then I will take you anywhere you want."

You smiled back sadly, "But what if I just want to stay home." You replied, your head finding it's way back between his neck and shoulder.

"Then we'll stay home. We can have a super lazy day surrounded by tons of blankets and pillows. I'll even cook you your favorite foods or bake you some desserts. I know you love whatever I make. How does that sound?"

You nodded before he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "Come on, let's get you back in bed. You need your beauty sleep, baby."

You mumbled an okay as you let him lead you back to your shared bedroom. Climbing under the covers once again, he helped tuck you in, a tiny smile present on his face.

You let out a deep sigh after he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead.

"Goodnight honey, I promise to be back by this afternoon, hopefully in time for dinner." He said as he gently caressed your cheek, which you nuzzled into more.

"You promise, promise?" You asked, watery eyes looking up at him.

"I even pinky promise," he held out his pinky, "please don't be upset sweetie, I love you so much, I hate seeing you sad."

"Can't you stay a little longer? It will make me happy then." You pleaded after wrapping your pinky around his own, locking in the promise.

Felix went silent, his face unreadable as he thought about how to respond. To add the cherry on top, you stuck out your bottom lip, pouting. You knew he could never resist you. However, he knew as well.

"Fine! But only for 5 minutes, I don't want to be late... again." He agreed with a playful sigh.

Your pout turned into a bright smile as you scooted over a little to make room for your boyfriend. He then threw his coat off to the side.

Once he was laying down, you trapped him in your arms while your face buried into his chest. You held him tight, making it impossible for Felix to leave your grasp again.

"Oh my god, what am I going to do with you?"

[kxxkiecxre]

・❥・SHOOT! || JEON JUNGKOOK ・❥・

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader.

Series: like a moth to a flame.

Summary: there’s never really a guide book on how to keep two important people in your life happy at the same time. Is there?

Warnings: sad, break ups, disloyalty, cancer diagnosis, idk? Just not a very happy chapter tbh. Stick with me though! Short chapter!

PREVIOUSLY… NEXT…

“I just don’t think the best way to tell her is by throwing her surprise party like she’s finding out the gender of her unborn child.” You sighed, going back to suck on the straw of your empty milkshake.

Jungkook swapped his Oreo milkshake for your empty kinder bueno one. He’s noticed when you’re super stressed or anxious you generally snack away on sugar mindlessly. Not that it’s a bad thing or something, he just finds it endearing.

“Maybe we can just not tell her…” you suggest, gulping down the Oreo milkshake like it’s your mission.

“So she can later bury us alive when she finds out?” He cringes.

Yeji would never. She’s too kind hearted to ever hurt anybody in any type of way and if her emotions do take a toll on her, she’s never the one to not apologise about it if she was in the wrong. Yeji is too smart. Too compassionate and sincere. It’d be silly to think she’d ever dehumanise you for dating her brother.

“Do you think she’ll be disgusted with me for dating her stinky brother?”

“How am I ‘stinky’” he pouts.

“Babe, you leave all your clothes everywhere, whether they’re fresh or not. I keep finding your socks all over my apartment, not to mention you like to just change outfits within seconds. Like I iron your decided outfit and make sure it looks perfect and then you’re all like ‘mmm no, the whites too muted” you rolled your eyes groaning.

His mouth opened in surprise. Doe eyes looking scandalised, “that’s only because you also change your outfit ideas last second! ‘Oh the glitter reflects different in this dress than on my shoes.”

It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. The fight between Jungkook and Yeji was starting to escalate and you didn’t exactly know how to stop it or help. So you stood in the corner, balling up and trying your hardest not to crumble because you knew. You knew now more than ever. If she doesn’t agree to this, if she finds it weird or odd or whatever. There’s no way you can keep this going. Even if you love him more than yourself. Yeji is your best friend and even if technically you don’t need her blessing to date Jungkook, it’s morally wrong. You’ve sworn to her since childhood that you’d never date her brother.

“Why am I not allowed to be with someone that makes me happy!” Jungkook yelled.

“Because,” she would yell back an octave higher and suddenly it felt like you were a small kid and your parents were arguing all over again “because she is my person. She’s the one I befriended before you. Because she’s the only thing I have aside from you. I can’t let this happen. If you break up and I have to choose sides it’ll be the end for me. I won’t have you, I won’t have her. I won’t have anyone. Jungkook please,” she practically sobbed

“I’ve never said this before because I always hated it, but kook. Please. I have given you everything I had through out our life. I protected you. I loved you. I was there for you when our parents weren’t there for us. I gave you a piece of myself day by day, night by night because you are the only thing I had in life because I love you. I’m younger and I have surrounded my life around you. You were my hero, not dad, not mom, you. You were the man I loved first, ever. You were the man I wrote about in class. The man I imagined had a cape when I was growing up and was my hero,” you stood in the corner, crying silently, head down not able to even glance at yeji.

“Jungkook please.”

It was silent. All the tension, all the life sucking energy was hung in the hair as if it was a hair strand away from breaking into absolute chaos. You’ve realised then, that both of them stared at you. Jungkook had some sort of hope in his eyes, but he looked like he was two seconds away from throwing up too. Yeji was a sobbing mess. And it finally sank in. Nothing would ever go back to anything it ever was before. Ever. Not with yeji, not with Jungkook.

You licked your drying lips and bit onto the lower one, fiddling with the keys in your hands, looking at your feet before you realised it was hopelessly. You’d end up hurting either one of them in the end. The only thing you could do was remove yourself completely. Away from yeji and away from Jungkook. They’re more likely to forgive each other and yeji would definitely find friends. It was a losing fight for you any choice you made and if you knew you could at least give them a shot to fix their relationship, you’d hurt yourself just to keep both of them happy. They’d mend their hurt.

From the beginning this was destined for failure. From the petty fight with Jungkook to the sex to finally falling in love with him. It was all just building up to this. The fights that put a strain on your friendship with yeji, the sneaking around, the dishonesty. There was no going back at this point. You couldn’t fix it anymore. You were being selfish the minute you reciprocated the kiss with Jungkook that very night. It was all just going to go down the drain and you knew it was. That’s the thing. Yet you did because you couldn’t help how amazing it felt. To love Jungkook, to have him with you. Exactly, where it brings you now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I can’t do this.”

You left the apartment in a rush, wiping your tears and hoping this pain would subside. Hoping you’d ever forgive yourself. The way both their faces dropped, the hurt and despair in Jungkooks eyes. Yejis eyes widening and jaw dropping as if someone just stabbed her in the guts. It had you so nausea you were seconds away from throwing up. The second the elevator opened you dashed outside, not so gracefully throwing up beside the door. Not that there’s any graceful way of throwing up.

Walking through the rain had all the memories rushing through you. From the first fight, where you couldn’t even look Jungkook in the eye, to the sex, to the moment you finally felt the love for him, to the fight when you were away to now. It was painful. This walk happened more than you’d ever liked for it to happen. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to choose. You just couldn’t. Because you loved Yeji, from growing up with her and matching outfits to school with little pigtails and matching clips, to starting high school together and walking in with your hands clasped together like two toddlers. To entering college. From heart breaks to success.

But you also loved Jungkook. He was always in the background of whatever you and Yeji did, he was always there to support and lift you when you fell down. He’s always loved you in no way any other man could ever. You knew that. Even when you didn’t pay attention to him. Even when you’d tease and ignore him. He always loved you. He was always there to protect you. It was breaking your heart bit by bit. You knew he was the man you saw a future with. The man you saw buying your first house with and having his kids. He was your universe. Your future. But you couldn’t do this to Yeji.

What is the point of being with him if you’d put a strain between yourself and yeji? If you took away his sister from him. She swore she’d never, ever speak to him again if you did continue dating each other and that was enough to prove to you that you never wanted to hurt any of them the way you knew it would if you decided in the moment that you chose Jungkook. Because even if you fought for both of them, it would have never been the same. At least now, you could still remain at least friendly with both of them without hurting them any further, or more painfully.

You didn’t want to be cruel. And maybe you were by the way you left. But you wouldn’t ever forgive yourself if you sabotaged their relationship for yours. So you decided to screw yourself up.

Sometimes, that just the way life is.

You finally agreed to have coffee with Jungkook. Just a simple coffee and nothing more. Even though it’s been two months, the tension is still high with Yeji. She hasn’t spoken much to Jungkook aside from the odd little conversation. Jungkook would come over plenty of times, to check up on her, and each time he’d come over, she’d be curled up on the couch, with the same dull expression in her face.

“you were the one who screwed this up Jungkook. The second you decided to fuck my best friend.” She’d always remind him.

It was the bitter truth, though. Because he is the reason why Yeji doesn’t smile as often anymore, or isn’t her bubbly self anymore. She always alone, aside from when Jungkook comes to her place and stays with her for a few nights, she has no one else. She always had you and that was enough for her. He’s screwed it up though. Big time. He fell in love with someone who was meant to be off limits. Someone his sister loved even more.

You sit across him with an odd expression. He has always been able to at least guess what you were thinking, today however, he can’t. Your eyes looked stoic. Empty. You showed no form of emotion on your face. You just sat with your legs crossed over the other and your hands mimicked your legs, loosely hanging of the edges. You were dressed smart, white dress pants and a white jacket with gold little buttons, a white button up underneath and white pumps. You were practically like a statue in front of him, a gorgeous one though.

Even in the state that you were, pale, dark circles under your eyes and void of any kind of emotion, you still managed to be the most beautiful woman in the room.

He swallow rather uncomfortably, his Adam’s apple bopping with the action. He looked nervous, his leg kept bouncing and his eyes were were everywhere but you. He’d look at you for a split second and then focus his gaze elsewhere. It wasn’t fun watching struggle like this.

He didn’t look bad. His skin was tanned and glowing, he must of gotten a haircut recently, perhaps an undercut? He was dressed like the usual him, baggy clothes. Comfortable. He still managed to look mesmerising and you were kicking yourself for even thinking like that, for letting your heart skip a beat any time you’d catch his gaze. For letting your skin form goosebumps every time you’d get a whiff of his scent reminding you of where you felt the safest. Most of all hating yourself because you came here to ask about Yeji. Not simp over the man that never leaves your head. The one singular man that has your heart breaking every day even more.

It was sick. What love can do to someone. It can test every single nerve in one’s body, it can fuck with your brain and make you into a robot rather than a human. It was nauseating what love can do to a human body. Sure it feels nice in the moment, but once that breaking point comes, your body crashes. It hates the pain, despises the feeling of your chest crushing and squeezing your heart like it was a poor man who owed money to the mafia. Like it was the victim of the school bullies, kicked and beaten for what? For a few moments of happiness?

Yet if you had the option to click a magic button and let yourself relive the happy moments, you would. You’d abuse it. Because the euphoric feeling was addicting. It felt better than sex, it felt better than a cup of hot chocolate during a winter storm, better than any sort of reward. It was essentially like crack. It’d slowly take every ounce of the best of you, and turn everything you once adored into pain.

“How are you?” His voice was small, like a scared child testing the waters.

You blinked, your expressionless face never broke character.

“I’m okay,” you replied in a more confident voice, “how are you?”

Jungkook looked down at the table, picking at the skin around his nails. His hand brushed around the nape of his neck, awkwardly.

“I’m,” his tongue poked his cheek, “I’m trying my best.”

“How’s yej-“

“I’m worried about yeji”

Your eyebrows shot up. Everything around you seemed to freeze in place and finally, the heart you have been protecting so much from breaking any further shattered all over again. You kept calm despite the fact that tears sprung to your eyes almost immediately. It was single handedly the worst thing he could have told you. It was something you thought you prepared yourself for, but nothing can ever prepare you for the pain of your loved ones suffering.

“She doesn’t have anyone other than me. Even then she doesn’t talk to me aside asking me what I’d like to eat or drink. She has no friends. She hasn’t smiled ever since that day, she’s lost a lot of weight too. I don’t know.. I don’t know how to help her Y/N.” His voice began breaking and your heart was ready to make its way out your throat and runaway on tiny little legs screaming for a break.

“Please help her.”

You closed your eyes, looking away from him.

“Okay.”

The look in her eyes had you terrified. She looked as if she was just one step away from breaking or perhaps shooting you. She stood across the room from you with the angriest and sharpest look you have ever seen on her. She was like a lioness ready to pounce to protect her cubs and it scared you to death.

More than anything, she looked so fragile. So poorly. As if she was sick and it was making you anxious. Even weeks before the fight, she started looking sickly. She was a lot more tired than before, and coughing almost all the time. It made you wonder, if maybe she was, sick?

“Yeji?” You asked gently, “can I talk to you please?”

There was a beat of silence, “now? After you left me when I need you most? Now?” She yelled.

You bit onto your inner cheek, hanging your head in shame, “I still care about you. I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I regret ever leaving you. But I need you to talk to me.”

She began crying and it had you rushing to her, practically breaking your ankles as your grabbed her delicate body to yours, hugging her as tightly as you could. As if you could just put her in your heart and keep her forever safe. She gripped onto your jacket, sobbing into your shoulder as you ran your hand through her head. Hugging her closer to your body.

Her entire body was shaking as you held her, your heart was aching as you sat on the couch. Jungkook stood at the kitchen island, biting his lips as he watched the two of you. Hating himself for doing all this to both of you because he was so selfish about you.

“Don’t freak out please,” she began, licking her chapped lips, “I have cancer,”

Jungkook stilled, his body raised in goosebumps everything he’s ever loved, everything he’s ever protected her from, all of the worrying about her, the one thing no one can protect another from, happened. And it was like someone pulled the rug beneath his legs. He could barely breathe.

“I- I had cancer?,” she questioned, “I, um, I had surgery, a small one, to remove the tumour, it was the mole on my back, they removed it successfully. I just need a few rounds of chemo to make sure the cells are all gone and have my bloods done every couple weeks to check my marks.”

“Yeji…” your bottom lip trembled, “why didn’t you tell me before?.”

She sighed, sniffling, picking at the pillow between both of you, “because,” she shrugged, “you weren’t here much. You were away for Jungkook’s fight, and the surgery date was set on the day. I thought I could tell you when you’d come back. But then all that happened.”

“That doesn’t matter, Yeji. You are the most important to me. I would’ve dropped everything for you.”

“That’s exactly why,” she smiled sadly, “I didn’t want to stop anyone’s life for me. After all I’m fine. It wasn’t anything serious.”

You held her hand, kissing it as you leaned her into your chest. Holding her, “you’re so strong yeji. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Jungkook sat on the other side of his sister, leaning onto her and holding her just as tightly as you held her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Guys I’m okay I promise.”

No matter what she’d tell you. You’d forever blame yourself for leaving her lonely during all this. The fact she had to be alone during the hardest days of her life was unfair. You were truly a bad friend and you wish you could go back and look at the signs. They were all there. Yet you didn’t even pay enough attention to realise it.

“I still can’t believe you touched my brother.” She fake gagged, making you chuckle.

“He’s not all that anyway.”

A/N: sorry?

MASTERLIST

any copying of my work is strictly prohibited. E.G : recreational work, translation or copying.

[yanyanderes]

i promise i’ll answer asks soon, i just can get reverse isekai au out of my mind i have to make a few more posts about it.

thinking of reverse isekai au (y/n) somehow stumbling into the yan rottmnt world, but without the turtles knowing.

like, they were just fighting the big bad evil guy with their team, and then suddenly, they’re warped to this random world. my thoughts is that they died during the final battle, but don’t remember their death.

depending on the type of world they live in (medieval times, super high-tech, etc.) they kinda struggle maneuvering around new york, and end up stumbling on april.

the thing is, april doesn’t watch their show/play their game, so she doesn’t recognize them. she just sees this oddly dressed individual (possibly with weapons and magic, might not even be human depending on what you envision (y/n) to be) and is immediately suspicious, but like… they don’t seem that dangerous?

like, the first thing they do is walk up to her and be like, “hey, i have no idea where i am, what any of this technology is, how i got here, or how to get back! can you help me? :D”

they get to chatting, (y/n) describes their world, maybe they help april out with something with their otherworldly powers, and despite their odd meeting they quickly bond, and april offers to let them stay at her place for a while.

time passes, yandere april starts happening, kinda tries to hide (y/n)’s existance, but it’s the turtles so of course they’ll find out eventually. probably donnie suddenly bursting into her apartment to vent his frustrations about his favorite fictional character died.

and then he just… sees (y/n), like… right there. very much not dead. and this isn’t just a cosplay, no. they’ve got all the perfect proportions, the voice, the powers, the real weapons, and he goes feral man, like-

grabbing april by the shoulders, freaking out, feeling all sorts of emotions like- how did she do it??? how did she revive (y/n) and actually bring them to this world??? she’s amazing for doing it, but also why didn’t she tell him sooner??

and april’s all confused, cuz remember, she doesn’t know (y/n) is from a show/video game/movie and she’s just like what. do you mean, we just ran into each other at the park. what do you mean they died.

idk man it just sounds funny.

[woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh]

Christine Canigula was socially ostracized & developed a complex to protect herself: an essay

(suddenly i NEED to infodump about Christine actually so here)

Something I only noticed on rewatch: the way Christine will say something silly and then just kind of gingerly wait to see if Jeremy reacts well to it before continuing, almost like she's asking permission?? (e.g. the gap after the first stanza of "Play Rehearsal"). And it's only after he riffs off her bowling alley bit that she feels comfortable talking about her personal feelings with him (right before "Guy that I'd Kinda be Into"). The same happens with their "weird noise" exchange immediately before "It's pretty killer to sit and chat with you." I know theater relies on being succinct, and that 'bonding over shared quirks' and 'feelings talk' are both just crucial parts of relationship development... but I don't think it's a coincidence that it always goes in that order!

It's like Jeremy has to pass these *trials of weirdness* before she feels safe opening up to him and it drives me BONKERS so I wrote a whole 1000 word thing about it under the cut and this got too massive and I'm sorry. Also some autistic Jeremy meta at the end if that sweetens the pot hehehe

Table of contents:

Why she was ostracized

How she was ostracized

How that might inform her pattern of relationship development with Jeremy and Jake

How gender caused Jeremy's experiences to differ from hers, and how that affects their current relationships with "popularity" and peer acceptance.

1. Why she was ostracized

I am just so certain that Christine has been bullied or at least majorly outcast for a lot of her life. She's very obviously neurodivergent and because of that she can have these obnoxiously deep and repetitive interests, she can't judge if a piece of information will be genuinely interesting to someone, and she doesn't take social cues very well.

She frequently interrupts people when they're talking (an ADHD symptom btw), even when they're literally talking to her about the thing she wants to hear!

(C: "Do you find that? Because I totally find that!" J: "Uh, yeah, I-" C: "-And no matter how hard I try....")

(J: "I know the last thing I deserve is another shot, but-" C:"Jeremy, just... say what's on your mind.") (girl I'm sorry but that's what he was doing..... I have a whole other thoughtpiece on how this particularly fucks with Jeremy while they're dating but thats another thing...)

She doesn't seem confident in her interpretations of people's emotions and she'll ask/talk about them point blank (both theirs and her own) in a way a lot of people would find rude

("Uh, you seem really nervous...") ("Popular people are fucked up! *mutual laughter* …I mean, you're one of them!") ("I am flattered, this is new / still I'm not sure what I should do" <- as a response to getting asked out, that's pretty bold! Plus the entire part where she laughs at Jake's "rich boy routine") (also compare and contrast to Jeremy's "I don't know what I'm supposed to say right now." idk. are your allistic stage dorks in the room with us right now motherfuckers)

I'd go on about her hyperfixations/special interests too but I think Play Rehearsal pretty much sums it up lol

2. How she was ostracized

All this to say that I am CERTAIN she spent a lot of her schooling having "nice girls" patiently let her sit with them at lunch for weeks at a time until they finally get sick of her rambling and faux pas. Only when they leave does Christine realize that they didn't actually care about anything she said... And this happens over and over and over. (I know this seems hella specific but I swear it's an actual phenomenon... at least I'm pretty sure? sdjflksjf)

But anyway, it's clear that by the time they're juniors, Christine has kind of (and I do only mean kind of) figured out what behaviour other people respond poorly to. And from evidence I stated in the intro, I think she's become really careful about which people she lets herself get attached to. She doesn't want this to ever happen again - which means if she's going to hang out with someone, she has to know that they actually care about her, that they know she will sometimes be obnoxious or blunt, and they'll still be okay with that forever.

3. Applying this to her canon relationships

You can extend this to Jake, someone who sees her in her element in drama rehearsal (the thing everyone finds annoying about her because she won't shut up about it) and STILL likes her. I think it's a totally valid reading that her bluntness with him later ("Upgrade") is just because she misreads him / doesn't quite get the social standard that she should be white lying instead. But I think you could also read her as testing the waters. If she's really going to commit to dating this guy, she's gotta know he's okay with her being herself. And the fact that this guy (and I think it's significant that he is a boy, for reasons I'll explain in the end note) genuinely seems to like her is a whole new level of peer validation ("I am flattered, this is new") -- so of course she's gonna fall at least a little! It doesn't hurt that he's "tired of being the person that everyone thinks that I am..." just like her!

Her history with being pity-liked makes Chloe's "advice," that Jake's just toying with her and is going to move on soon, even scarier, because that's genuinely happened to her (on a platonic level) so many times before.

Jeremy is also a good candidate from the beginning because he's weird he's a weirdo he doesn't fit in and he doesn't wanna fit in you ever see him without this stupid cardigan on? that's weird! And she keeps warming up to him not only because they're getting to know each other but because he gets progressively more willing to not only tolerate (as Jake does) but *participate* in her weirdness!

First, she does something weird and he tolerates it ("Play Rehearsal"); the next time she's weird, he participates! (bowling ball before GTIKBI). Then finally finally finally he initiates the weirdness and lets her join in! ("weird noises" exchange before GTIKBI reprise).

And notably, it is THIS moment that canonically signifies that they've hit the apex of their canon relationship development. If there was an achievement called "Befriend Christine," it would have popped up right then and there!!!

IN CONCLUSION: YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM T_T

4: Christine vs. Jeremy: Gender differences & how that ultimately impacts their social goals

I also think all of this would have happened to Jeremy too if he'd been a girl. But because, generally, young boys feel less social obligation than girls to take pity on the autistic kid (and because boys tend to be more quickly recognized as autistic) he just ends up completely alone for most of his school life (Michael nonwithstanding - and yeah there's an important distinction between your childhood friend putting up with you and knowing that, woah, I guess literally nobody else ever will).

Meanwhile, Christine has had people "put up" with her, and she's SICK OF IT!

That's part of why their complexes are so different, because Christine is trying to check everyone she meets to make sure they'll be okay with her weirdness before she gets attached, Jeremy is trying to eliminate his weirdness altogether because he's never even experienced his peers listening out of *pity* so how the hell can he expect someone to ever listen to him out of *interest?*

Jeremy has never had someone pretend to like him before, so he completely lacks Christine's fear of befriending someone who secretly hates you. He doesn't realize how bad it'll hurt him if he destroys his real self for popularity, if he befriends people who would have bullied his real self. He doesn't know what disingenuous friendship feels like, so like a very young Christine he's still actively trying to get there because he thinks it's the only kind of validation he'll ever get.

Do you see what im saying? Do you see it???? AUAUGUGUUGGH

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! If you have thoughts or even rebuttals please share i am so desperate to discuss the blorbos

[httpskuzuu]

Cello

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

I am spanish and I have no idea of english, I translated this by google so I am sorry if there are mistakes, idk

it's the first time I write for him so it's probably that fyodor is quite out of character, sorry for that too.

tw: kidnapping, yandere, manipulation¿, mentions of god, I think, stockholm syndrome, fyodor is a general tw.

I have been a whole month kidnapped by Fyodor.

The first three weeks there I was in a dark and empty basement, typical of a horror movie. I don't remember much from when I was in the basement, my brain decided that the best thing for me would be to forget everything I experienced there, I only remember very specific things. I remember that he didn't talk to me until the first week, and that I stopped crying on the fifth day. Since I stopped crying the emotions disappeared, there was fear, of course, but at a lower intensity than at the beginning.

After my stay in the basement he decided to take me upstairs, he gave me a room to myself and from then on all our interactions were cold and distant, almost null most of the time.

Today I decided to go back to writing, a hobby I had before I was kidnapped. It was relaxing and made me feel a little better, it made that emotional block that I had been carrying with me since the fifth day here disappear for a few seconds.

Everything was going well until I heard his cello being played, that made me not be able to continue writing. I don't know why I couldn't continue, maybe the simple fact of knowing that Fyodor was just a door away from me made me disconcerted. Now, for some reason, I am about to open that door that separated us.

I opened the door cautiously. The room is moderately large, with Fyodor in the middle, seated and holding the cello between his legs. His slender hands play the chords of a song, unknown to me, with such elegance, he has an amazing composure as his fingers lightly press the strings of the cello. His face is expressionless and cold, but suddenly he looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

The silence is suddenly deafening, with the atmosphere too tense to be true. Fyodor stops playing his cello and looks directly at me.

"I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" I break the silence in when it becomes too much for me. It's been a while since he's spoken, not in full sentences, at least.

His gaze is different, I can't describe it accurately. I've never been able to describe Fyodor accurately.

"No, I was simply thinking about the meaning of your actions." Was it curiosity I'm noticing in his tone? I really don't know, I'm not that good at reading people.

Fyodor put his cello aside and approaches me calmly. He's much taller than me, much to my disgrace. I can smell his cologne on him, it's heady and expensive, I wouldn't mind smelling it any longer.

He smiled slightly, a fake smile, his eyes didn't move from his cold expression.

"There's not much to think about it." Even I didn't know why I walked in. "I guess I wanted to hear you play your cello closer, it sounds beautiful."

I noticed a small change in his expression, now he was really smiling, not only his mouth but also his eyes formed a smile. He keeps his hands folded behind his back as he looks at me intently. I feel nervous about his whole body language, and more so about the fact that he hides his hands, he can perfectly kill me with them in just seconds and I wouldn't see it coming.

"You were looking at me, weren't you? And yet you didn't join me. It's strange that you want to look at me."

The mere thought of approaching him and hearing him play gave me chills. I just shrugged, hoping that would be answer enough for him.

"Will you keep playing?"

"Of course, would you like to join me this time?" Fyodor's smile softened as he said those words, and I, surprisingly, returned the same smile.

"Sure."

I followed him to the center of the room, he sat in his chair and I sat on the floor beneath him. He feeling of inferiority didn't take long to come from being in this position, and more so with his gaze fixed on me, making me feel like I was prey.

I listen attentively to Fyodor's melody, while playing with my hair from time to time to try to calm the nerves of being under Fyodor. My gaze is riveted on him, I feel like a believer watching his God. From the perspective below, Fyodor's features stood out much more, making everything even more enigmatic.

Fyodor stopped playing and looked at me with those violet eyes, pale and piercing, calculating yet peaceful. "What is it, маленькая мышь?" he looked like he could almost read my mind. "What's in that pretty head of yours?" He almost seemed to want to annoy me by the way I looked at him, and more so when he kept a playful smile on his lips.

"Nothing important…" I felt too helpless against Fyodor, against the closest thing to a god in this world. I'm on the ground in front of the Russian, completely vulnerable and helpless, I'm easy prey for him.

"Lying to your God?" his hand came to rest on my hair and began to slowly stroke it. The first affectionate touch I had had in this whole month, it was inevitable to enjoy it and it was inevitable to close my eyes so I could feel it better.

"I'm sorry…" I know very well that Fyodor could kill me simply by activating his ability right now, but for some reason I simply couldn't feel fear about it. I simply stopped bothering and let myself go.

"You belong to me, моя любовь." His hand went down to my cheek and I just leaned against it. "I will never let you go, мой дорогой." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me, but I nodded anyway.

"I know, I won't try to leave." And I'm not lying, I don't have it in my plans to try, I know well what Fyodor is capable of.

"You have no choice." I opened my eyes slowly to see his figure looming over me, he had a sadistic smile on his face, and leaned closer. His eyes moved to my lips. "If you try to leave, you will be punished."

I don't like that word, punish, it makes me feel like a helpless child. That was a bitter thought, to think of Fyodor as a father angry at his son for disobeying, to think of Fyodor as a God angry at his worshipper for not having faith.

I nodded again as I snuggled even more against his hand. Comfortable enough to forget those thoughts, comfortable enough to forget the situation I was in.

[megistusdiary]

I’m not sure if you’ve written for Xiao yet… but I’m always curious of how people interpret his.. libido to say the least, considering he’s an adeptus and doesn’t feel emotion the same way humans do.

Maybe a shy Xiao were he’s not really sure HOW to ask reader to sleep with him so he tries to give “subtle” hint but they really aren’t as subtle as he thinks.

BTW I love your writing ahhhh

(Can I claim an emoji.. idk how that works tbh I never leave asks so if I can… could I be like, 🥀 anon?? Thanks!!! 💜)

hi there! of course you can be 🥀 anon, welcome to my page :D i'm also very happy you like my writing ♡♡♡ tysm for reading

also i have actually only written two pieces for xiao which are as follows:

1) jealous dom xiao

2) consensual somno with dom xiao

i like to think that xiao doesn't know much about sex except that when done between a male and female, you can create another human sometimes

he doesn't really understand the love-making part of intercourse, so i have an idea of who he would try to ask lol

honestly this has a lot of plot. i have been writing so much these past few days, phew! when i have the time, i am a writing machine haha

warnings: switch!xiao and switch!fem anatomy/pronouns reader

nervous xiao, handjob (xiao receiving), lots of touching/making out lol, first-time sex for both of you :) , lube, fingering/penetration (reader receiving), soft ♡, kissing, baizhu is here but just as a side character because i ♡ him

the leather-bound book sat heavy on your desk in xiao's memory, unable to remove itself from his thoughts.

slightly worn around the edges and held closely to your face while you read it, lips thoroughly bitten. you seemed to think you were so sly when you hid that book behind you whenever he mentioned it.

so it was unusual that he had found it on your desk, for once unguarded by your form. xiao innocently opened the unlabeled cover to see what you had been reading so intently this week.

barely a few sentences in to the page, he immediately realized this was some type of erotic book. he was unfamiliar with some of these terms, purely from a lack of knowledge of human intimacies.

when he finally reached the end of the page, he snapped out of his trance, slamming the book shut with so much force it scattered the pages of your report to the floor.

never had the yaksha been more thoroughly embarrassed, cheeks stained red as he clutched his head.

he knew humans were odd, but he had never seen such a crude book. he never pegged you for the type to be interested in such things. how could one want to read about the act of producing a child?

odd.

perhaps that's how xiao ended up seeking out a personal consultation with the popular pharmacist from bubu pharmacy.

as uncomfortable as it was, the doctor was happy to make his acquaintance, keeping an even-toned expression when he welcomed the yaksha in after hours.

"i understand these concepts might be unfamiliar to you, though i mean no disrespect. these types of things are different from public displays of affection, and they aren't so easily written in literature."

xiao begged to differ based upon that book you left out so haphazardly on your desk for anyone to see.

he allowed the doctor to explain things in the most scientific way possible, trying to remain calm and collected until the yaksha suddenly held up a hand to stop him.

"i...appreciate your effort, but i already understand the act of procreation. i just don't..comprehend why humans seem to enjoy it so much."

baizhu paused, determining the best way to answer the question before he finally understood why xiao really wanted to see him. "i see. you're asking about why lovers like it so much." baizhu barely stifled a chuckle. "to be honest, it's been a while since i have done that myself, but it isn't so much about the act itself."

"how so?"

"it's about being vulnerable with someone. allowing them to see all of you while you see all of them. it's hard to let ourselves be open with everyone, especially if we have a particularly traumatic past. it can lead to becoming guarded." xiao frowned at this. "but, when you're with someone special, a normally uncomfortable situation becomes tender. intercourse becomes love-making." baizhu scratched the back of his neck, wondering if any of this was even sticking. "ah, i'm sorry if-"

xiao abruptly stood, silencing the doctor. "no need to apologize. i understand now. thank you for your time, doctor."

"oh, before you go-" baizhu stood up slower than xiao, reaching behind the counter to collect a small brown bag. "it might not be my place, but i always see mr. zhongli from the wangsheng funeral parlor here collecting peculiarly strong medicine for someone in liyue. it might be presumptuous of me, but, here." he held the bag out towards xiao. "it'll save mr. zhongli a trip here."

xiao gingerly took the bag, holding it in one palm before practically vanishing before baizhu's eyes. the pharmacist smiled to himself, shaking his head before locking up the pharmacy doors and heading home.

it had been a few days since then, and after continuous thinking, he finally decided it was the right time to ask you to do this with him.

you seemed to thoroughly enjoy that book, so surely, it would be even better to experience the real thing, no?

although, xiao had no idea how to bring this to your attention without sounding crude. why was he so nervous about something so simple? he was a yaksha. why were trivial human matters frightening to him?

when you finally came home that evening, you were surprised to see xiao waiting for you, standing in the doorway at attention, watching you almost drop your bag.

"oh, xiao-" you held a hand over your heart, laughing to yourself. "you scared me a little there."

you walked past him, opting to unpack your bag as xiao focused his steel gaze upon your form. "i don't know if you're hungry or not, but i brought your favorite." you turned, holding the container of almond tofu with a big grin.

you expected to see the usual hint of a smile on his own lips, though he seemed to remain neutral as you frowned slightly. "hey, is something wrong?" you started to feel concerned, worried you had upset the yaksha.

xiao clenched his fists as he huffed. "it's nothing. i appreciate the gesture."

you deflated a bit, causing xiao to feel that slight burn in his chest. guilt, he assumed. "alright, sure. i'll leave it here for you." you set the container back on the counter, rubbing your eyes as you put the rest of your things away.

xiao could take it no longer, wishing desperately to get this idea out of his head. "i read your book." he softly blurted out as you slowly turned towards him on your heels.

"what book-"

"the book."

"oh..." you fell silent, face feeling hot as you coughed. "well, i am, uh, sorry for traumatizing you with that, so...yeah." you averted your eyes, screaming at yourself inside your head. how could you forget to put that book back under your pillow? xiao was definitely going to disappear forever now. well done.

"do you want to try...that."

your eyes practically popped out from your skull, covering your mouth. "try what now?"

"intercourse. with- me."

xiao's face was as red as a tomato as you stared at him shocked. "i knew this was a foolish idea, i apologize for offending you. this is an insult to-"

"no!" you yelled out, moving your hands to his shoulders. "no, no, no you're misunderstanding!" you shook your head. "xiao, do you really mean it? you'd try it? with me?"

xiao nodded once, surprised by your overdramatic reaction. was it really as good as baizhu explained it to be?

he also wondered if his karmic debt would weigh too heavily on you for a moment before you gasped, shaking his shoulders with your excited gestures.

"oh, xiao, i...i wanted to ask you for a really long time. i just- i thought you'd never want to. and i never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable." you explained as xiao finally understood.

so you did want to create a child with him? to be honest, he wasn't quite sure if it was even possible, though he had heard stories of half adeptus children in liyue, namely that very popular lawyer woman.

"i'm willing to try." xiao nodded. he allowed you to excitedly lead him to the bedroom, stumbling over your own feet as you pulled him to the bed.

"there's really no need to be nervous." you told him sweetly, cradling his face between your palms as he willed himself to relax.

you were correct, and he hated to admit that a human was more wise than him.

you slowly leaned forward. "is this okay?" you questioned, noses nearly touching as he nodded, staying still and allowing you to approach him. you carefully pressed your lips to his, rubbing your thumbs across his cheekbones as you smiled into his mouth.

xiao's eyes fluttered shut as he allowed you to guide him, keeping his hands at his sides, awkwardly clutching at the blankets. you gently pulled away, feeling him lean forward to chase your lips before catching himself and opening his eyes.

you reached towards his hands now, holding them gently and placing them on your waist as you climbed into his lap. "there, that's better." you commented, kissing him deeper, swiping your tongue across the seam of his lips.

shockingly, xiao seemed to understand this gesture, parting his lips and allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth. he seemed to find this sensation odd, gripping your hips a little tighter when you shifted against him.

he felt warm when you moved over his hips, pressing your weight down onto him as he groaned, feeling the strange sensations.

you smirked, grinding down against him as he leaned away, panting with spit-slicked lips as you held onto his shoulders tighter. "does that feel good?" you asked as his eyes closed once more, eyebrows furrowing. you giggled a little before stopping, hips growing tired before you suddenly let out a soft moan when xiao started moving your hips for you.

it was easy to forget his inhuman strength when he looked so soft. his grip was tight as he moved you at his leisure, inexperienced yet curious.

"have you- done this before?" you asked him, feeling warmth building in your core as xiao shook his head.

"never." he answered before pulling you against him once more, trembling a bit. "have you?" from the way you spoke and read it so freely, he was shocked to see you shyly shake your head.

"no...i was waiting for the right person." you admitted sheepishly. "i wanted it to be special." you smiled up at him, kissing his cheek.

xiao realized you were talking about him, making it feel like he had crystalflies in his stomach.

"here, i want to try something." you moved off his lap, opting to tug at the waistband of his pants. "we both take off some clothes so it isn't as awkward, okay?"

xiao was perplexed when he watched you shyly pull of your jacket. "i assumed it was normal to strip during this act. is it not natural?"

"huh?"

"being nude. why would you be uncomfortable with the idea?"

you paused, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of an excuse. in that time, xiao took it upon himself to fully strip. "i have no shame in this form. i took it many years ago in honor of my savior. it is something of pride and loyalty. your form is to be respected." xiao reminded you as your eyes widened.

"well...okay." you took a deep breath, removing the rest of your clothing to match xiao as he carefully folded the fabric, placing it on the chair near the bed. "come here." you gestured as he moved towards you. "lean against the headboard."

xiao did as you commanded, feeling your gaze burn against his skin when you trailed your eyes down his body. you stopped just above his groin, feeling embarrassed as you leaned forward.

"oh! i almost forgot, i actually had something, well uh...just in case." you laughed nervously, reaching over to your nightstand, pulling out a small bottle of liquid.

"what is that?"

"it's supposed to make it easier by making your skin more slippery." you explained, uncapping the bottle to pour some on your fingers. "it'll feel much better with this. or so i've heard."

"from who?"

"...sources."

you ignored xiao's huff, carefully tracing a finger along his shaft as his hips jumped. "sensitive." you smiled, feeling his thighs go tense as you swirled your finger around the tip, playing with the slit as his cock slowly grew harder, leaning up against his stomach.

you moved your hand around him, carefully stroking in a gentle motion as he let out a groan from the slick sounds of your hand on his skin. "it...feels good, but strange-" xiao's hands clenched on the sheets as you moved your hand up and down, using the other hand to play with his heavy balls as he gasped.

as expected, he didn't last long, reaching his first orgasm quickly, coming all over your hand and his stomach, feeling sticky on your fingers as you gently eased him through his orgasm. he relaxed against the headboard, watching as you smiled to yourself.

the expression slowly faded when you realized he was still hard...?

"what- xiao, that's...weird? that's not supposed to happen."

xiao looked perplexed. "i thought humans are capable of enduring multiple orgasms."

"i mean, yeah, with breaks- they don't just keep going-" xiao cut you off by pulling you towards him, pressing your body to his.

"what do i do to return this favor?"

"well, i guess the equivalent would be fingering me? i'm not really sure about that though because-!" xiao reached his hand down to press against your wet cunt, feeling your hips jump against his touch. "xiao, hold on, i'm sensitive-"

he pressed his free hand against your fingers, collecting the leftover lube to press against your cunt, rolling his fingers over the skin messily. "xiao, there's a specific way to do it." your cheeks burned. "i'll show you." with one hand, you gripped his shoulder, the other reaching down to wrap around his wrist, feeling around for your clit until you positioned his finger pads just right.

"oh- there." you sighed, moving his fingers in circles as you moved your hips to match the motion.

"is this...adequate?"

"very," you laughed breathlessly. "but, i need you to do something else for me too."

"anything."

"before we try to put your...you know in me, i need to be, how should i say this, stretched out? they say it really hurts the first time...and i guess i'm just a little nervous because-"

"i promise i won't let anything hurt you." you were taken aback by xiao's sudden oath, looking deep into your eyes as your lips parted. "tell me what i need to do."

you carefully moved his hand down towards your hole, allowing him to feel for himself. "here?" he asked.

"yeah, just press in but be gentle, please." you whimpered as he dipped the tip of his index finger in, gently pushing as you shifted uncomfortably. "feels weird."

xiao stayed silent, eyebrows furrowed by the strange texture around his finger. it was tight, yet soft, wet, and warm as you sucked the digit in. he stuck another next to it, feeling you grip his shoulder tightly, hand falling from his wrist as you dug your nails into his bicep. "archons-"

he continued to push the digits in and out, sometimes moving his fingers a bit. he recalled baizhu explaining some of this. he called it 'fingering' or something along the lines. a fitting name indeed.

eventually you stopped him, gesturing for him to remove his fingers as he frowned. "is something wrong?"

"no, no, i just- i think i'm ready." you took a deep breath as he nodded.

he positioned his tip at your entrance, watching you worry your lip between your teeth as you felt it slowly enter you, tensing your body as he hissed.

"don't do that-" he groaned, grabbing your hips. "relax your muscles, it's too...tight."

you tried to relax, eyes tearing up slightly. it was not as excruciating as you expected, though the stretch did burn, and once you finally got through the hard part, xiao paused.

he allowed you to lean on him, taking shallow breaths as he smoothed a hand down your back. baizhu told him to be patient. he explained you would need time to adjust, that it could be painful taking something in your body this way.

xiao was glad he listened, finally feeling your heartbeat slow as he gently soothed you, albeit stiffly.

"are you okay?" he asked, feeling you nod against his shoulder. he carefully moved his hips experimentally, feeling you clutch your arms around his neck for stability, still pressed to his chest as he hummed, picking up the pace gradually.

you allowed him to buck into you at different angles, feeling him shiver as you kissed at his neck, humming into his skin.

"ah-" you suddenly arched when he hit your g-spot unexpectedly, eyes closing as xiao looked concerned. "that was- good, that was a good spot and-"

he pressed into it again, maintaining the angle of his hips as you trembled. "no, no, i'm gonna come if you keep doing that, xiao." you panicked, though he paid no mind, hearing going static as he continued to fuck up into you. "xiao-" you whined as he held you close to him.

he felt your soft breaths on his skin, hair tickling his neck as you suddenly jolted. "oh- i'm close, i'm really close, xiao, xiao-" you moaned lowly, desperately holding back.

"why are you afraid to experience orgasm?" xiao asked, breaking you from your stupor.

"huh?"

"why?"

"you...i need to keep up with you, xiao. if i- fuck, if i come now...you won't get to and i-"

"i don't mind." xiao admitted, focusing on the feeling of you squeezing around him. "i wanted to know what this was like. i didn't understand why humans were so fond of such things."

he reached down with a hand, sliding it down your stomach to press into your clit as you gasped. how did he remember where-

right. yaksha.

he had you trembling against him, orgasm washing over you as you went slack, leaning onto him and crying out his name as he shuddered, leaning back as you continued to squeeze him oh so tightly.

you felt blissed out as you slowly regained your senses, vision coming back to you as you smiled up at him.

your body still felt tingly, limbs numb as he slowly slid out of you. xiao could tell you were out of it, eyes hazy as he leaned down to kiss your head tenderly.

perhaps human intimacies weren't all completely useless.

[squishyteri]

*Deep disappointed sigh*

I was thinking that I'll be sitting here at this time, writing about finishing another amazing drama, but instead I'm sitting here, absolutely baffled and beyond dissapointment and confusion.

What the hell just happened? That what what I've asked right after finishing the final episode of DFF. And the worst part is that I will actually never know what had happened.

Honestly, the drama started getting worse in episode 10. That was a whole mess (I've written entire post about it, read HERE ). Episode 11 was good in a terms of what it gave us, but it was at very wrong place. It was truly bad choice for the pre-finale ep, that was supposed to build up the tension for the final ordeal, so this Tee backstory felt anti-climatic.

And today, the finale came and it felt like I clicked on the wrong show. Am I really watching DFF? I asked in disbelief. I just couldn't believe what I saw.

I try to go one by one.

Starting with Fluke. That was actually the part I liked. He was the bywatcher. He just watched. So it was really good choice to let him stab his eyes out. But I hated that he didn't even know about it, since he died (most likely) while still being high on absinth. I HATE the choice of having him die. Him living blind, not being able to be a doctor would be such a great punishment for him.

Top ... Well, first of all, how are you still alive, buddy? But given the amount of people (1) that took way too long to die, I guess people in DFF universe are just slower at dying from very obvisouly fatal wounds. Him killing himself and taking Fluke with him was okay, I guess? I mean we know NOTHING about Top, so how could I know what is in character and what not?

Tee and White. Oh boy. I knew right away that us getting the emotional backstory of Tee is not a gift, it would come in an exchange of an inevitable traumatic experience. But this was not what I expected at ALL. If everything else was perfect, this would fit well. I feel like it's a good scene and great punishment for Tee to live with. ... If we KNEW what happened to Tee... but I'll get to that later.

(also like... White's character is so ... idk, he's just a random, innocent dude, who is there only for the purpose of dying ... not the mention he was really annoying to me at the beginning, like what was that about?)

Now here it comes. Jin. I ... I can't say much, because I think even Tumblr would ban me if I went into detail. Let's just say I did not expected Jin to be horny on main. I still don't understand how Jin was the one who posted the video (we had some evidence it might have been someone else), but if he did or thinks he did, it only makes sense his fear would be related to it. But even so, I think his fear should've been more about him not protecting Non. We know that Jin liked Non and wanted to protect him. So why is his biggest fear everyone knowing he's horny on main? We know from Copper himself that Jin should've been percieved as a good character, but him fearing that what he did to Non happens to him is sort of selfish and absolutely not something I thought about Jin. But let's be honest, bad writing was screwing Jin over since like ep 6 (and it was doing it even harder than Phee) (sorry for this one, I'm leaving the room now).

Now Phee. His fear is obvious and he's the only one getting out of the hallucinations and saving the day. (probably) I didn't understand his momentarily need to save New??? Like buddy, you are in this mess because of him??? But him getting the antidote, saving Jin and then coming back for Tee: amazing, hot, I loved it. Only sad that was like 2 minutes of this tragedy.

New. Oh, New. He was a guy broken beyond repair and I knew he will go. I mostly hoped he would end his life himself after realizing what he did and what happened to Non, but he was too lost for that. But I'm okay with his ending.

FINALLY the holy grail of dissapointment. The ending itself. It suddenly cutting to "2 Years Later" got me thinking That's it??? It didn't even have the shock point, because I was confused the entire time. I was thinking why on earth would you end it like that? Why are PheeJin having happy ending (not that I didn't want it, but not like this, not like this, mate) and why is Tee having the bad ending (really, why?) and like what happened? What did police say? Why we skipped two years ... and suddenly BOOM, they smacked me across my face with that "oh, how did we get out then and why is Non over there?" ending. Like WHAT?

HELLO?

REALLY?

Like you really made me sit through 11 episodes, making my judgement and assumptions about every single character, wanting their ending to be whatever I felt they deserve and instead of giving me the shock, happiness, sadness of what you cooked for them you GIVE ME NOTHING?! OF ALL POSSIBLE CHOICES, YOU GIVE ME NOTHING?!

Is this like write your own ending thing or-? WHY WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME HANGING.

Not to mention there are lot of things unexplained.

Was Jin the one who really posted the video? There were lot of contradictions to it.

How on earth did New manage to prepare everything and hurt Por? We just heard it from Phee, who couldn't have possibly known. And some things like weren't adding up, even if we have the hallucinations thing.

What happened to Keng? Like, is he dead? But we never saw the body. Really, what's with him?

Who are the survivors? We might assume Phee, Jin and Tee, but are they? Are they all dead? What happened to them? This was literally why we all were here and we don't even get that answer?

That ending was soooooo anticlimatic and out of place. This kind of ending can work, but in a slasher movie where we don't care about characters that much and we are there just for the blood and murders (A Nightmare on Elm Street does this wonderfully, for example) but not in a drama, where we spent HOURS learning backstories of each character (except Top, like who is he?) and want to know what is their destiny.

It's like if the ending of Harry Potter was Harry and Voldemort about to fight, then cut to the 19 Years Later scene, but Harry sees Voldemort on the platform and then cut to broken Hogwarts and then end credits. Like, nah, that doesn't work.

I don't want to make my or yours suffering any longer that needed, so I will end this here. I'm very sad, very disappointed and very confused. I feel like I was robbed. This drama was so good, but the writing team just gave up somewhere around episode 9. It's like when I think of good plot for a fic, but don't come up with the ending and have to write just whatever to not leave it open.

Yep, thank you for reading this. The best part about this drama was without the doubt being able to share my thoughts and theorize with everyone. Thank you guys for it.

Special thanks goes to my beloved friends @tbhimnoteasyonmyself @ayansbff @jeffsatursgender and @toonstuna, who were watching each episode along with me and today (and not just today, for like past month and half) were very nice, kind and patient to listen to me ranting about everything for hours (as they were all ranting themselves). Love you all, guys, really <3

Thank you everyone who has been through this with me. Hopefully next time we will meet again at something less disappointing.

Baya!

[n7punk]

i know i've kind of talked around this stuff for... fuck, three years now? but idk, now it's getting closer to "resolving," i kind of want to talk about it. journal, get it off my chest, idk

i haven't really been specific about my health issues much because 1) privacy and 2) very complicated feelings on it, but feelings are becoming less complicated, so... yeah. privacy is still really important to me, but i have too many feelings about this to keep feeling like i'm silencing myself for some hypothetical... i dont even know what

tbf, if it had turned out to be anything else, i probably wouldn't be comfortable even making a vent post about it now. but it turned out to be. annoyingly simple. i've also got other stuff, physical disabilities and such i've been more candid about but still want to keep the specifics of private, but this is... very different.

long story short, during the pandemic i started experiencing Symptoms. i'm honestly not sure if/how much i have talked about what was wrong with me, because i don't remember... entire years, much at all. i know ive described it as my brain being on fire, but it's more like it instantly melted down and i was left with the aftermath for hours/days/weeks at a time. it really fucked with me emotionally to be fighting through that on top of the direct effects of the Symptoms. and, well, the problem was my brain (probably) so that tracks.

it turns out it was migraines. migraines that shared many symptoms with seizures, brain tumors, or pressure on the brain stem, but yeah. "just" "migraines." and, actually, we don't know that! but migraine medication is helping, so it's probably that and this is where i am, finally waking up these last few months (this summer of updates could Not have happened if it weren't for my new medication) and feeling both very frustrated with what i lost and relieved to not always have to deal with suddenly being unable to understand a sentence anymore.

it's not like. fixed. my brain is still going to burn sometimes. It seems to come in waves, like two bad weeks and then two good ones. we're not done trying to treat it now we know some stuff it's responsive to, but its not like it used to be, wildfires raging all day and my head wavering on my shoulders as i struggled just to read messages from my friends. i literally had an emote i would use to communicate when i couldn't communicate that everybody who knows me understands. i haven't even twitched since starting my new meds! well, like, uncontrollably. trust me, that's progress. i literally had to get a bigger bed so i could be safe in the middle of it when the fits were especially bad and i got twitchy.

uh so that was more story than i planned. really i just wanted to finally talk about what i've been experiencing (at least for the first time that i remember). honestly writing was the only thing that kept me sane while i was trapped inside my own malfunctioning brain. i don't know why it was one of the easiest things for me, when i couldn't even understand a full two sentences being said to me i could still - usually - write (again: i literally couldn't talk for like three of the days when i was writing and updating catcher daily), but i'm so grateful for it. and everybody who told me my stories helped you, or that you looked forward to them, or even just that you enjoyed them: you helped me right back, because you told me there was one thing i could still do, from a capability standpoint to having the ability to make any impact on the world when i was trapped at home. so thank you.

okay i'm done now. just. had to get that out

[petrichorium]

i am not vic but ohhhmhyyogofr your post about gojo and his greatest fear of getting you (us???) pregnant is making rounds in my head. if u would like to share more of your thoughts please know i will be SEATED!!!!

I will not lie the thing I have written is more about his mother and how he projects her onto you wrt his fears abt getting you pregnant so it’s v much a gun Ive cocked and aimed at vic specifically LMFAOOOO

But there’s many angles to his refusal to have kids imo so I’ll ramble abt a few of them. If this is going to hurt ur feelings DO NOT open the read-more it’s not a happy take on motherhood

he does not believe he’d be a good father point-blank. I think his dad was p much nonexistent in his life—in fact I can’t decide if I think he even knows who his dad is/was—and in general he keeps too much of an emotional distance between himself and everyone else for him to be comfortable with the idea of being responsible for raising a whole child. His role as a teacher is not paternal to me, in contrast to chars like Aizawa or Qifrey who are paternal in their roles. JJK is very explicit in its depiction of sorcerers as people who do not have long lifespans, and the majority do not make it past high school. The teaching role in that sense is less a father figure and more someone raising cattle for slaughter. He can’t afford to become too attached to his kids; the vast majority are going to become Haibaras or, if they’re strong enough, Getous. It’s a hard life. He firmly believes he’d treat his own kid the same way. You are the exception, and sometimes he still has to distance himself from you—a kid doesn’t deserve that from its own father.

he is RADICALLY oppositional to everything that has to do with the old conservative way. This includes providing his clan more breeding stock—because frankly, that’s what his children would be. There’s no chance of him passing his powers down (only one person can have Limitless at one time, a power that isn’t even that enormous without the Six Eyes and he’s the first person in 600 yrs to have them both) and he’s also aware that either he or his kids will die first, and if it’s him there’d be nothing to stop his clan from just taking them away to use them to breed another one of him. Idk how any decent person would be comfortable having kids knowing that or assassination would be their fate, but hey I’m kinda an anti-natalist so I’m pretty biased LMFAOOOOOO

BUT FINALLY. THE PART WE RLLY CARE ABOUT (and the most important part to him—again those first two points are why he’s always been terrified of having kids but this one shows up when he realizes he wants you for the rest of his life) if there’s anything worse than being gojo in a situation where he’s had a kid, it’s the poor soul he impregnated. Because like. He’s GOJO he’s untouchable but you, no matter who you are but esp if you’re not a particularly strong sorcerer/a non-sorcerer straight-up, are absolutely touchable. Like the odds of you being outright assassinated (during the pregnancy by other clans or after the pregnancy by his OWN as a power grab) are so high that the chance alone would be enough to make him get snipped. But having his children would erase you. You’re no longer you the moment it happens; suddenly you’re the mother of gojo satoru’s children, and you bear the burden of everything that entails.

You’ll be blamed when his kids are powerless even though everyone knew it would happen. You’ll have them stolen from you the moment you let your guard down. You’ll be ridiculed and shamed and dehumanized until you’re a shell of who your used to be. And it won’t matter that unlike his father he’ll stay by your side, because ultimately he’s the one who did this to you. It won’t matter if you do everything right, their lives will still end in tragedy. It won’t matter if you truly genuinely wholeheartedly always wanted children and always loved them… you’ll end up resenting them. And him. And yourself, for your resentment. And if you’re like his mother………. you won’t be able to take it. Nobody would be able to take it.

He cannot allow it to happen

[emberglowfox]

hi can you please tell me about those two brainfused characters from the art that used "In Two" lyrics? Your ocs seem v interesting i am Intrigued

omg hiiii thank you

yes so the two characters in the in two drawing are arthur and zarian, the protagonists of my oc story, steelheart! arthur is a human, while zarian is a (conscious, autonomous) futuristic robot called a DRACO, specifically a v1 model.

i touched on it vaguely in this post, but more specifically the deal with DRACOs is this: they're supposed to be mind-controlled jet-motorcycles (that happen to look like dragons, because why not). they interface with the brain of their pilot via an implant attached to the spinal cord, which also serves as a storage compartment that the DRACO can de-materialize into for transport and charging/refueling (how? idk. sci fi future tech hand waving.) the implants look vaguely like this:

the main takeaway of this is that the DRACOs are 1) permanently connected to their pilot and 2) have like. direct access to the pilot's brain

now these things were not made with the whole 'the robots end up being self-aware and conscious' thing in mind, so being connected to an Awake one is... VERY weird. while DRACOs and pilots can't read each other's thoughts, exactly, they can communicate mentally, either by 'speaking' (like. thinking very clearly and distinctly, kind of) or just pushing abstract thoughts and emotions at each other. they're also very in tune with each other, like vaguely aware of where the other is at all times like you would be a limb, unconsciously mirroring each other, etc. aware DRACOs also 'borrow' senses that they don't have from their pilot (as in feel what the pilot feels), such as taste/smell, or sight and hearing when they're de-materialized.

so... not brainfused in the sense that two beings are now ones, but more like two beings semi-sharing a brain and even a body at times.

arthur and zarian get linked (as in, arthur gets the spinal implant) COMPLETELY by accident and have to contend with all this rather abruptly. as you can imagine, suddenly sharing your brain with a stranger (especially one who you thought was/is trying to kill you, and/or maybe possess you, because giant evil vampire robot) doesn't go over great.

but it works out, and they end up weird clingy besties! they're kind of like an opposites-attract situation where they bring out their own traits in the other. zarian is very snarky and a bit defensive, which brings out arthur's more sarcastic side and encourages him to stand up for himself. arthur, meanwhile, is a bit more emotional and playful, and helps zarian learn how to have fun and connect with others.

they're losers and they're my favorite guys ever. it's great

[stilljuststardust]

have you shifted yet? & what does shifting feel like I always felt like if I were to shift it would feel like a dream idk why. some people say it’s like being in real life

also is there a thing as a short shift? I’d like to do that just a short script & I shift in no time

Hi love! Please feel free to ask any other questions about shifting and how it works or message me about it.

Have I shifted?

Yes. I have had short/mini shifts in the past but soon after I decided I would permashift so the next time I shift no one will know. Permashifting is when you shift and decide to stay there.

What does shifting feel like?

The shifting part feels like nothing. It feels like nothing. Symptoms are a thing but they aren't necessary to shift. You just are there.

The reality itself is not going to feel like a dream. It is a real reality, not just similar to real life it is real life. Desired realities are real realities so for alot of people shifting is very emotional.

You wake up and you are suddenly aware of an entire life you've lived, people you care about, intense memories, etc.

Short shifts??

You can shift back whenever you want. You can shift back after an hour, a month, a year, you can stay indefinitely if you want.

Shifting back is not typically planned ahead of time most of the time people just decide to shift back when they are ready to.

The script part is really confusing me because I am not sure if you either

A: think that a shorter script = shifting sooner

Or B: think that having a shorter script means you shift back faster

Neither are true. Shifting is instant, it doesn't matter if you script 1 thing or 80. How "long" it takes people to shift isn't dependent on anything other than the individual. Your DR is a real reality you stay there as long as you want to stay there.

There isn't any inherent wait time to shifting. You don't have to wait at all.

Scripts are not actually "scripts" like as in "movie script" they're just called that. It's more akin to an address, it is a descriptor of where you would like to go. The destination already exists.

It doesn't matter if you script 1 thing or 80, they are functionally the same to shift to. You don't have to do anything different.

You don't even need a script if you don't want one.