#the good doctor: heartfelt

[scifidancer]

Stargate actors spotted in the series THE GOOD DOCTOR / season 1:

1. Michelle Morgan (*Fran*) in the 14th episode "She".

2. Joris Jarsky (*Herick*) in the 15th episode "Heartfelt"

3. Ryan Robbins (*Ladon Radim*) in the 16th episode "Pain"

4. Patrick Sabongui (*Kanaan*) in the 17th episode "Smile"

5. Teryl Rothery (*Janet Fraiser*) in almost all of these episodes. She's an anaesthetist and appears when it comes to a surgery.

[emerson-grimes-apologist]

CC Friends, Enemies, Lovers: Round 2

[rragnaroks]

you know what makes me very happy? the amount of hugs on doctor who

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #22: The Custody Battle Turned Romance

A freshly resurrected Jason is found by Single Dad Danny raising a de-aged Dan and Dani who goes "surely one more kid can't hurt?" and takes him in. Danny helps him deal with his catatonia, trauma amnesia, and other side effects of being undead without the need for a Lazarus Pit.

He takes the kid to a therapist Jazz recommended and supports him thoughout his recovery. They did some bloodwork and found out pretty early on he was The Jason Todd-Wayne but then he decided not to reach out and let Jason decided what he wanted once he was recovered.

Danny, Ellie and Jordan love and treat him like family in a way he's never quite had before even with Bruce. They’re just so open and honest about their feelings and never make him feel out of place. So when Danny ask if he’d like to reconnect with the Waynes or stay with the them, Jason chooses to stay with them.

The world has moved on around them, and so has the Batfam. Jason knows about Tim (and talked through his feelings in therapy). He knows about the foundation Bruce created in his memory and the way he very publicly grieved. He witnessed the news over Nightwing nearly beating the Joker to death. He knows enough to decided it’s better to let the dead remain dead. Instead, he becomes Jason Nightingale, eldest adopted son of a mechanic in the Narrows. The family welcomes him with open arms officially accepting him as a brother and son.

Danny supports Jason to finish his high school and college education and Jason decides to be a doctor as an homage to Thomas Wayne and aspires open a free clinic like Leslie Thompkins. They get his death certificate revoked under circumstances of resurrection (which is a thing that actually exists in public documents due to the resurrections that tend to happen in the DC universe) and legally adopt him so that he can go back to school. However, Batman monitors public records to a degree and this gets flagged in the system bc it’s Jason’s death certificate.

Suspicious, but optimistic Bruce informs the rest of the family what he has found out and ask them to come as back up for when he goes to find Jason. He’s investigated and is sure that the family who helped rehabilitate Jason is clean and nice people but he wants his son back. They others also wanna see Jason but are worried if this is a good idea since Jason hasn’t reach out himself and there is paperwork for an adoption in the system. But Bruce decides to track them down anyway.

Bruce shows up as the Nightingale’s door and asks to see Jason. Danny, sympathetic, agrees on the condition Jason wants to see him. Jason is hesitant, but decided it would be good way for both of them to get closure and agrees. Bruce and Jason have a tearful reunion and a long heartfelt conversation at the end of which Bruce says “Let’s go home son”. To which Jason has to awkwardly break it to him, but he has no intention of leaving the Nightingale’s and returning to the Manor. He lets him know that he’s open to meeting the rest of the family at least once more but that Danny is his dad now and Ellie and Jordan are his little siblings.

Bruce is devastated.

He lets the rest of the family know and they all make their visits while Bruce wallows in despair. Normally he wouldn let it go, but he just can’t stand to lose Jason another time. So he decides to take Danny to court in the hopes of getting visitation rights if not split custody.

It’s one of the weirdest cases to hit the Gotham courts: two dads who were never together in any capacity but aren’t antagonistic of each other, are trying to come to a custody agreement over their adopted resurrected child in family court.

Over the course of the court case Bruce sees what a good dad Danny is and bonds with his two “bio” kids. Meanwhile Danny gets to meet Dick, Tim, and Cass (Bruce’s legal kids as of rn) and gets to talk to them about their experiences with Bruce and how much they want to form/reform relationships with Jason. They do form a healthy respect for each other, and accept each other’s places in Jason’s life.

Court case ends up working out in favor of Danny. It’s split custody but he gets custody of Jason majority of the time (as per Jason’s own wishes) and Bruce and the Wayne's still have partial custody and open contact with the Nightingales.

Over the years kids all start to see each other as siblings and both Bruce and Danny as their dads. By the time Damian shows up Bruce and Danny have been functionally co-parenting each others kids for years. They provide support to each other’s kids that the other parent may not be well equipped to, but helping each other improve.

When Damian does arrive his superiority complex is quickly curbed and Bruce puts him into counseling on Danny and Jason’s recommendation. It takes a while, but Damien slowly finally opens up and gets to act like a real kid. Ellie and Jordan, who are around the same age (maybe a bit younger?), love having him over to roughhouse and play princesses/knights/dragons (but with politics and consequences). Sometimes they’ll go out and trick people into thinking they’re triplets.

It’s actually Damien who first suggests parent-trapping Bruce and Danny so that they can be one big family. He obviously gets Dan and Ellie to agree first. Then the three of them bag Tim and Cass. The five of them approach Dick next. Jason is actually the hardest to convince but the manage to get his approval. Thus, these guys try to set up the Oblivious Danny and the Emotionally Constipated Bruce.

And for Flavor, just when it looks like they’re about to get together, one of their past love interests comes into the mix, re-entering their parents’ live just to stir the pot. (Which ex is up to your imagination: Sam, Talia, Val, Selina, Tucker, Wes, Minhkhoa, Harvey)

[tojipie]

nurse geto my sweet <3

content: fluff, established relationship, can be read as fem or gn reader, angst, hurt/comfort

nurse geto whose shoulders stretch out the starchy blue material of his scrubs. whose shaggy hair cascades out of the front of his bun and over his forehead after a long shift.

whose happy trail peeks over his waistband just the slightest bit whenever you catch him stretching. smiling for his patients even though his permanent eyebags that stretch back to medical school offset his cheery demeanor.

nurse geto who has cute little charms fastened in the holes of the crocs he wears to work, little logos of his favorite bands. a “g” for himself, right next to your matching initial.

who keeps his wedding ring off due to sanitation restrictions, but always on his person so he can wear it as soon as his shift is over. who spends each and every lunch break with you, shit-talking the doctors and their pompous attitudes.

suguru loves the little ones. the sweet babies coming in for their annual checkups, the newborns in need of warm sink baths, and the tiny cherubs scared to get their first-ever flu shot.

the kids love him just as much, running to wrap their little bodies around his leg when it’s time to go, babbling out a “bye-bye mister” as their moms lead them by the hand out of the exam room.

suguru so badly wants to be a father. wants to spend the rest of his life protecting the sweet souls that come into his care. you don’t quite understand until the day he comes to you after one of his sweet little patients calls him “papa,” locking the both of you in a spare linen closet and sobbing into your neck for a good hour.

suguru is a kind man, an even better healthcare worker. but he gets attached too easily.

you tell him it’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong with having love for the little ones during their time at the hospital. you’ve had your fair share of heartfelt moments with the babies too, longing for them to stay just a little bit longer after their last checkup for the year.

he can’t help how big his heart is or how deeply he wishes to share it with a family of his own, how happy he looks every time a freshly born angel wraps their wrinkly hand around his finger.

geto suguru was born to be an amazing father, and you can’t wait to give that to him someday.

[rileyslibrary]

may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc

doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰

thankyouu🥺✨

I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫

———————————————————————

Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.

His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.

The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.

The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.

While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.

Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.

You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.

You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.

Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”

“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”

His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.

“Why the glitter?” he asks.

“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.

“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.

“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.

“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”

“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”

He lets out a sarcastic scoff.

“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.

He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”

He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.

They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.

Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.

You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.

He is livid.

“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.

“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”

“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”

“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”

“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”

Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.

Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.

“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.

“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.

You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”

“And I had only one sheet of paper.”

“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.

“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”

They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.

“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”

“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.

“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”

———————————————————————

A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!

[captaincvans]

Love Letter (Wonwoo x Reader)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/N finds herself feeling like her gift for Wonwoo's birthday was far from good enough when she saw what Carats and other members got him.

Warnings: Mention of IV drips, fainting, and hospitals.

Word Count: 3330+

Author’s Note: Just a small piece of Wonwoo fic that was floating in my head for a while. I finally had the time to finish it. Comments/reblogs feeds a writer's soul! Enjoy~

She watched from the corner of the couch at the rambunctious boys, her heart warming at the thought that Wonwoo has such precious friendships in his life. He finally picked up her gift, having gone through most of them and seeing as how hers was the first one set on the table. Seungkwan passed him the big box first, and she was excited to see his reaction. She worked over time for the last few months in order to be able to afford the gift, but the effort was worth it, in her opinion. 

The boys hollered at the sight of the shiny Apple box, and Mingyu shouted. “Wait- wait- which one of you forgot that Carats already gave him a personalized Airpods Max?” Most of the boys shook her head, but she didn’t have it in her to tell them. Nobody put their names on the gifts so no one could tell who the gift was from. Her heart sank as Seungcheol took the box and set it aside, still thinking it was from one of the boys. In doing so, she watched her smaller gift fall on the carpet, underneath the copious amount of wrapping paper and tissue paper on the floor. 

“Don’t use that one- use the one you got from our precious fans,” he said, laughing. She admired their loyalty to their fans, but found her heart still sinking when Wonwoo nodded. She worked hard for the gift, and seeing it get tossed aside felt like her efforts were also being tossed aside. She knew Wonwoo still appreciated the gift as he was never the type to take what he’s given for granted, but a part of her wished she had given him his gift privately instead. Y/N noticed Mingyu pulling out his phone, telling the boys that he was going to start a live on Instagram. She took this time to slink back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Her relationship with Wonwoo was known to the fans, but she still wanted to respect the responsibility that comes with his job. If she were to do anything wrong, it would reflect poorly on him, so in order to avoid that she tried to live as quietly as she could. 

Y/N heard her boyfriend’s speech to their fans, thanking them for their support. She cleared up the mess of having to host 13 boys in the kitchen, and made her way back to the living room once she heard they were done their livestream. 

“Y/N, we’re going to go out for drinks, wanna come?” Seungkwan asked, motioning for her to join their group. He gave her a side hug before pulling her to sit beside Wonwoo, Dokyeom standing to make space for her. 

She looked at the mess in the living room, and shook her head. “I think I’ll just stay and clean up. You guys have fun!” 

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asked quietly beside her, not wanting to pressure her. 

“Yea. Go have fun with the boys.” She gave a short peck to his cheek, rolling her eyes at the hollering going on around her. As they all headed out, they each gave her a short hug, thanking her for hosting them. Y/N picked up her gift from the floor, looking at the designer items the boys had gifted her boyfriend. She knew that he wasn’t materialistic, and would’ve loved anything they had given him, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was lacking in her ability to spoil him. She had worked a lot of overtime hours in the last few months, having to go to the doctors for IV drops a couple of times because she was so exhausted. Luckily, Wonwoo was also busy with promotions, but it made her feel even emptier when everything was said and done. She sighed, placing the small box back on the couch and cleaning up the living room. The smaller box had contained a heartfelt card, an old MP3 player with a customized playlist she had created to represent her love for him, along with a Spotify code as she knew he would want it on his phone as well. While she was going around cleaning, she hadn’t realized the box slipping between the cushion of the couch. 

The next few days were busy as she decided to continue working overtime since Wonwoo was busy anyways. She felt like their relationship was barely hanging on the last few months because of his busy schedule, and the fact that she was working more than ever before in order to be able to afford his gift and hosting the get-together with his team. Woozi and Seungcheol had offered to help her pay for the party, but she didn’t feel right about it. She wanted to spoil them, and she didn’t want them to think that she was taking advantage of their finances like that. 

Wonwoo came home late at night after recording some b-side tracks for their repackaged album. He couldn’t even bother making it to his bedroom so he decided to crash on the couch. Once his body landed on the usually soft cushion, he immediately noticed a firm item in between the pillows. He dug around, finding a small box he remembered seeing at his birthday party a week ago. He opened the box, seeing the letter slipped out. 

To my WON and only,  Happy Birthday!! Please excuse my crappy handwriting, but I wanted to write down how much I love you and how much I love us. Two years ago we met each other, and my life would never be the same since. I am so thankful for another year to be by your side and I want you to know that no matter what I want to always be with you. My heart is so full of love, and yet I can’t express them with words so I hope you will feel all my love in the songs I’ve put in this mixtape.  Always yours ❤️

Just as he was about to play her playlist, his phone buzzed. It was Woozi apologizing and asking him to come back to the studio. He sighed tiredly, pressing the palm of his hands against his eyes. It was times like this that he missed Y/N’s touch, and how she’s always been able to relieve his stress with just a simple hug. He missed her so much. He opened the last message from her. It was her telling him about finishing work and going to the mall, and showing him what she had bought. It was the little, mundane things that Wonwoo appreciated in their relationship. Since they found it hard to meet up sometimes, she made it a point to send little updates about her day, and he would do the same. As he was reading through her messages, and the commentary on her video haul that she sent him, he noticed the time she had sent the message of leaving work. His eyebrows furrowed as she usually leaves work around 6 to 6:30, but the timestamp had read her messaging him closer to 8pm. He scrolled back through their messages, easily finding her little messages after work and they were all late. It wasn’t as if her morning messages came later either, they were all at the same early 6am as they had always been. His thoughts were interrupted, when Woozi sent another message asking if he was coming. Wonwoo confirmed that he was, and made his way back to the studio while thinking about what would keep his girlfriend late at work. She hadn’t mentioned any big projects or anything that could keep her longer, but perhaps she just forgot to tell him. He sent her a few text to ease his mind, maybe it wasn’t as a big deal as he had in his mind. 

Goodnight, baby I just got home from the studio, but Woozi asked me to come back to record more. I’m so tired and I miss you so much I noticed that you’ve been getting off work later than usual? Is everything alright? 

He pocketed the MP3 player, and went back to the studio where he crashed for a few hours after recording. It was a little before noon when Wonwoo woke up, opening his eyes to an uneasy-looking Dino, and he suddenly he was on alert. 

“Hyung-”

“Dino? What’s wrong?” 

“We charged your phone when you were sleeping because it was dead, and when we turned it on it wouldn't stop buzzing.”

Wonwoo felt his heart plummeting and beating miles per hour, he nodded in thanks and quickly took his phone from Dino’s outstretched hand. He realized a few more members were there, and they had halted the recording. It was easy to see why they were panicking, usually if it was an emergency amongst the members, there would be at least a few more members who would know, but this seemed like a personal matter. He unlocked his phone, seeing 10+ phone calls, and 30+ messages from Eunji- Y/N’s best friend. He skimmed through messages, bile rising from his throat when he saw the words 

‘Fainted… hospital… overworked…’ 

He got up quickly, catching the eye of all his members. 

“What? What is it?” Seungcheol asked worriedly. 

“Y/N’s in the hospital,” he said before rushing out. 

“Wonwoo!” Seungcheol called. “You’re in no state to drive. I’ll drive you.” 

Wonwoo nodded in appreciation, knowing that it was faster to get a ride from his members than wait for his manager. The ride to the hospital was tense, and Wonwoo was able to call Eunji back. 

“Eunji- how is she?” he asked once he heard her pick up. 

“She’s fine now,” she said with a small sigh. “They gave her some fluids, and they’re just looking over her now. Where were you, Wonwoo?”

“I’m so sorry. I was recording all night, and fell asleep.” He stopped when she spoke again. 

“Right. I guess it can’t be helped.” Wonwoo always appreciated Y/N and Eunji’s ability to not linger on things beyond their control, seeming always focused on fixing the problem. “Did you like her gift?”

“Gift?” 

“Yea- your birthday was last week, right?” When he didn’t respond she continued. “Y/N told me a few months ago that she was planning a birthday party for you and your team. She wanted to spoil you guys, and tried going all out- even buying you the Airpods Max. I’m guessing that’s why she’s here.” 

“What?” Wonwoo was still trying to process everything, and the anxiety of Y/N being in the hospital wasn’t helping him see the bigger picture. He needed Eunji to spell it out for him. 

“She worked overtime for the last few months to be able to afford your gift and the party. I mean she wasn’t broke by any means, but throwing a party for 13 guys can get pretty expensive. I think some of your members offered to split the cost, but she was worried that they would see her as someone too focused on money.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened at her revelation of what she went through that day. He remembered the comment Mingyu made about the Airpods, and how he had carelessly tossed it aside. He felt so guilty for not even considering the effort she put in that day. In a way the idol life had spoiled him as staff members were usually the one preparing their birthday events. He didn’t know how much they cost but he could imagine it was more than Y/N would’ve spent on herself. He wasn’t blind to the amount of effort she put in, rivaling the decorations that a team of staff would prepare for their birthday streams. 

“I didn’t know,” Wonwoo said quietly. “She never told me.”

“That’s our stubborn Y/N. She probably didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. Knowing her, she was probably overworking both at work and trying to make the party happen that she stopped taking care of herself. I would’ve thought she would stop doing overtime after the party though.” 

“I’m at the hospital now.” He turned to his leader. “Cheol-”

“Go. Text us if you need anything. We can come by-” he paused. “If she wants us there.” He felt guilty about that day, thinking about how hurt she might have been. 

“Thanks.” Wonwoo got to the room Eunji texted him, taking a deep breath before slowly opening the door. Eunji was sitting beside the empty bed, scrolling through her phone. “Where is she?” he asked, suddenly on alert again. 

“They took her for some more testing,” she told him, motioning for him to sit at the chair across from her. 

He shook his head, looking around the room, his need to see her making him restless. 

“I’m glad you’re here now. I know you don’t like to push her to talk, but she’s more like you than you think, Wonwoo.” Before she could say more, Y/N was wheelchaired in with her nurse. Her eyes widened when she saw Wonwoo, and she was about to reach for him when the nurse had gently helped her back on the bed. 

“Your tests are all done,” he informed her. “The doctor will be in shortly to discharge you.” 

“I have to take my leave now,” Eunji said as the nurse left them alone. “But call me if you need anything, alright?” She turned to both of them before picking up her bag, offering a supportive smile before taking her leave. 

“Y/N…” Wonwoo started, his voice cracking with how emotional he was feeling. “What happened?” Despite Eunji telling him the story, he wanted to hear it from her mouth. 

“I worked a little too hard, and fainted- kinda hit my head a bit so that’s why the doctors are doing all these test,” she answered him in a light tone. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Hmm.” He took the chair Eunji was sitting on, and brought it closer to her bed. “Why were you working so hard? I saw you’ve been working overtime.” 

Her eyes immediately shifted to her lap. “You’ve been busy so I wanted to keep my mind off missing you.” 

He knew she was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. “It has nothing to do with this?” he asked, pulling out the MP3 player from his pocket. 

Y/N gasped, thinking she had brought it home with her instead of leaving it at Wonwoo’s couch. 

“I read your letter. You got me the Airpods and made me a playlist- even putting it on this MP3 player you knew I would like. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know Carats had already gotten you one…” she trailed off. “And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or make anyone feel bad.” 

He was about to put a hand on her head, but stopped when he remembered she hit her head. Instead, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I love it. I love you. You could’ve given me a plastic bag, and I would’ve loved it.” 

She chuckled at his words, shaking her head. “I was thinking…”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we could give the Airpods to your father? That way you can use the one Carats gave you, and father will be happy with the new Airpods?”

Wonwoo melted at her thoughtfulness, reminding him one of the many reasons he loves her. She made it a point to welcome his family with such open arms, including his team. “You don’t want it for yourself?” he asked, knowing she had always wanted similar headphones. 

She shook her head. “I think father would appreciate it more.”

“Alright. You can give it to him next time we visit.” He took her hand, placing it against his lips as he gazed at her face. “I don’t want you to be working overtime to buy me anything anymore, okay?”

“That’s not fair,” she argued, taking her hand back. “You-”

“I don’t care about money or materialistic things. I care about you- please? Can we do the handmade gifts from now on or something?”

She thought about it for a bit, pondering on  his suggestion. “You’ll only give me handmade things too?”

He nodded. 

“Deal,” she agreed, breaking into a grin. “You realize that’s gonna be harder for you, right?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head. “There’s nothing hard about spoiling the person I love the most.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” she said between laughter. 

His phone buzzed, and he checked it was Seungcheol who texted him. “Seungcheol just texted. The members were really worried.” 

“About me?”

“Mm.” He responded that she was alright now. “They wanted to know if you would like to see them?” 

“She nodded. “Today? Okay- maybe we can go bring food to them if they’re practicing?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “We’re not doing anything. You’re coming home with me, and they’ll visit us there, okay?” 

“I’m sure they don’t want to miss their practice.” 

He shook his head, stopping her. “Y/N, my team is my family.”

She nodded, not knowing where he was going with this. 

“And you’re now family so they’re your family too.” 

Before she could say anything, the doctor knocked on the door with a clipboard. He gave her the clear to go home, and Wonwoo called a taxi for them to take to his home. As they settled in to his home, Y/N gave Wonwoo the go-ahead to have the members over to visit. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Mingyu said, his face full of anguish. Seungcheol stood beside him, head lowered as if expecting to be scolded. 

She shook her head, putting a hand on each of the boys’ arms. “Don’t worry- you guys have nothing to apologize for.” 

“We didn’t mean to-”

“I know, I know.” She gave them both a hug. “It’s nothing, really.” 

Wonwoo gently pulled her to his side, leading her to sit down on the couch as if the few seconds of standing would be too tiresome for her. She sat in the center of the thirteen boys, feeling like she was finally a part of their little family they created for themselves. When the door rang for the food to arrive, Y/N was the first to get up, but before she could even move, Wonwoo had already gotten up and made sure she stayed put while the other members jumped up to get the door. In the end, Seungcheol and Mingyu had gotten the food, and set it on the table. 

“Thank you for the food, Woo,” Soonyoung said, the other members following in sharing the gratitude. 

He waved it off, knowing it wasn’t the first nor the last time he would treat his members. Being older than most of them, he felt a sense of responsibility in making sure they were treated well, and felt like he would be taking advantage of them if he didn’t cover their expenses from time to time. 

He took the bowl that was meant for Y/N, unpacking it and adding her preferred toppings. “Thanks, Woo,” Y/N repeated, taking the outstretched plate from his hands. He leaned over to get a side dish to put on her plate, and Y/N took the opportunity to give him a quick peck on his cheek. 

“Ehh! You guys are too sickeningly cute,” Seungkwan said, giving them a side eye. 

“Don’t be rude! I think they’re cute.” Dokyum scolded. 

Wonwoo prepared her food first, giving her the bowl before getting his own bowl. Minghao was on her right, and took some of the side dish in front of him, and placed it on her bowl. 

“Thanks Hao,” she smiled. This time she wasn’t watching the 13 boys from the corner of the couch, feeling like an outsider, but instead she finally felt like a part of their found family.

[straykeedz]

i should be getting ready to go to bed since i have classes early in the morning, and i definitely shouldn’t be thinking about

dad!changbin

who would be utterly in love with his child from the second he finds out you’re expecting a mini version of you and him. he’d cry when you announce him you’re pregnant, handing him a small box containing two positive tests and an ultrasound;

and no, i’m not talking about teary eyes and pouty lips, i’m talking proper sobbing as he envelops you in a heartfelt hug and cries tears of pure happiness and joy because his dream is finally coming true - a family with you;

he would be next to you 25/8, never leaving your side, making sure you’re feeling alright and that everything’s okay with you and the baby. he’d have his hands on your belly all the time, and when he’s not touching it, he’s kissing it, whispering sweet words to the baby growing inside of you, a baby he can’t wait to meet;

he’d talk to the baby all the time, i’m sure of it. telling it about his day, or the new song he’s producing these days - a very special song about a very special someone he hasn’t met yet, but whom he already loves with his whole heart.

he’d keep the very first ultrasound inside his wallet, and when he’s taking a break from rehearsal or recording sessions or dance practices he’d pull it out to look at it, smiling like an idiot;

he’d treat you like a queen. he already does, of course, being the gentleman he is - but if you’re pregnant with a child? you’re not lifting a finger inside the house. he’s doing everything: the cleaning, the cooking, the dusting, everything. and don’t you even think about protesting or trying to do the house chores anyways, are you kidding?;

and he cries so, so much when he hears the heartbeat of your baby for the first time…;

don’t even get me started on him feeling the baby kick for the first time! he’d get so excited and would desperately try to make your baby kick again and again and again and again until - “binnie, sweetie, it’s two am. please leave the baby alone so we can get some rest.” but would definitely try again in the morning;

at first - he wouldn’t want to find out if you’re expecting a boy or a girl, he doesn’t really care. all that matters to him is that the baby is healthy - that the both of you are healthy, that’s the most important thing to him;

but when the doctor accidentally reveals that you’re expecting a girl… here come the waterworks. he would’ve cried either way, let’s be real, but a little girl? a mini version of you?;

he’d start thinking of the perfect name as soon as you find out the sex. hell, he’d start buying toys and plushies and clothes for your baby girl - you’d have to threaten him to block his credit card after he comes home with two huge bags full of stuff for the baby;

and let’s be real he’d definitely bring home a giant dwaekki plushie so that your little girl could fall asleep next to it cuddling it once she’s born;

they’d be the best nine months of his life, for real. but when you’re in labor and about to deliver the baby? that’s when his anxiety and his insecurities would kick in - what if he won’t be a good father? he doesn’t know how to be one after all, so what if he messes up? what if he can’t be enough for the both of you?;

but all of his worries would instantly vanish when his eyes would meet those of his baby girl. she has his eyes, big and playful, staring right into his soul as he feels something he’s never felt before, a love that fills all of his heart and soul, a love that makes him complete;

you’d have to hug him and pat his back and dry his tears for literal hours after your baby girl says her first word - “appa”;

he’d be your baby girl’s best friend and partner in crime, i’m sure of that. you’d come back home and find the living room turned upside down, toys scattered all over the floor and a blanket fort built with the cushions of your couch, but you can’t mad when you notice the loves of your life asleep on the fluffy carpet, both dressed up as princesses, with little crowns and tutus and everything, as a disney cartoon plays in the background?;

and when your little girl suddenly shows interest in playing basketball? changbin would literally run to the store and buy a mini hoop the next day and play with her. and definitely give you the side-eye and pout at you when you’d make a silly comment about how “now this is a hoop that matches your height”, but he’d let it slide, because if there’s someone who can make fun of him it’s you - he knows you don’t mean it anyway;

he’d let his baby girl paint his nails any color she wants, or let her braid and style his hair - more like pull it until tears fall from his eyes, but how could he get mad at her once he notices her satisfied expression once she’s done putting unicorn bobby pins in his hair?;

and he’d try his best to learn how to braid your daughter’s hair, but no matter how effort he puts into it, he’ll never be as good as you. a messy braid is the result of an experiment which involved three broken hair ties (don’t ask) and a youtube tutorial - and for a second there he’s scared she’s going to burst into tears once she sees the final look. instead, she smiles at him, and then hugs him as tight as she can, saying that he’s “the best appa”. and changbin is the one who bursts into tears;

he’s “the best appa” also when he buys your daughter the dinosaur plushie she wanted so bad;

and his heart would break when he’d pick up his baby at kindergarten the one day and sees her cry, teardrops running down her beautiful, puffy cheeks. all because of a little boy who made fun of her for having a dinosaur toy instead of a doll. and changbin would explain to her that “there’s nothing wrong with liking dinosaurs more than dolls”, and would giggle when her daughter would calmly explain that “but i like playing with dolls too, appa”. so, at the next tea party, changbin would be sitting between the t-rex plushie and a barbie;

one day, he’d be helping you carrying the groceries inside when he’d notice a blue box peeking from inside the bag. you’d try to hide it as quickly as possible once you start sorting the groceries out, but you’re not quick enough. “is this what i think it is?” he’d ask. and you’d sigh, handing him the small carton box. a pregnancy test. “is- are you- are we?” his brain would short-circuit. you’d tell him that you don’t know, you aren’t 100% sure, but your period’s late;

and he’d ask you to take it immediately, heart hammering inside his chest. part of him is incredibly thrilled, another part of him is terribly scared. but happiness is the feeling that prevails in his heart;

three minutes later, two lines show up on the white plastic stick, but he doesn’t cry. not yet. what he does, is run to the closest convenience store and buy four more tests. all positive;

only then, he’d cry. so hard that his daughter would come up to him, concerned, pull him by the t-shirt and ask him “what’s wrong, appa? are you sad?” and he’d kneel down before your daughter, drying his own tears as he shakes his head and tells her that “no, appa’s not sad. appa’s happy, because you’re going to be a big sister.”;

crying as well, you’d also kneel down next to them, and changbin would pull the two of you in a tight - but not too tight - hug, then kiss you and your daughter on top of your heads as he repeats that “i love you so much.” over and over and over and over again.

yeah, i think i’ll go outside and touch some grass after this 🥹

-> don’t forget to reblog if you like my works; “it’s good for motivation” my man chris bang once said. ♡

[veren-cos]

Asking out the Bachelors (SDV)

x disabled!reader

You presented him with a bouquet. But before he could speak, you interupt. "Now before you say anything!" He looks at you confused. "I want you to know before you make any big decisions that I am disabled. I get around fine enough, I mean, I can handle my farm and all. But some days it's rough. And I won't be able to. I might not have the energy for anything. I really- Really -like you, but I don't want to be hurt down the line because you can't deal with this." You put your heart on the line and awaited his response.

All Bachelor's below the cut

Harvey

• Gives you a big ol' hug

• Probably cries a little because he is so happy that you asked him out

• Hopes you don't notice

• You definitely do, but don't say anything because-how cute is he!

• The two of you just stay there for a second, because it's not like you can really move when you are trapped in a hug

• "Dear, having a disability is no big thing. So you need a little extra support sometimes. I am your man!"

• Literally will go to the ends of the Earth to help you when things are acting up

• When you go into more detail about it, he knows a lot already! (Duh he is a doctor)

• But he will do a lot more research about the specifics once you leave.

• He stays in that hug for a really long time before realizing that he never actually accepted your bouquet and becomes a bit of a flustered mess

• You think he is adorable

Sam

• As much as he likes to think he is sooooo cool, he is so happy that he just gives you a double thumbs up and a dopey grin

• He says, "Farmer you don't know how happy this makes me!"

• Invites you into his house to talk about things more, and plucks around his guitar while doing so.

• He doesn't know crap about disabilities, besides adhd and a few more common ones.

• But he is willing to learn!

• The two of you actually have a really long heartfelt conversation about it.

• Lots of hugs.

• Like he cannot get over the fact that you are dating now.

• Maybe a makeout session if the mood feels right?

Sebastian

• Kinda just stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time

• You have no idea what he is thinking, and frankly neither does he.

• His brain is frying at the fact that you like him back.

• And then he is also panicking at the fact that you think he won't like you because of something you can't change!

• Grabs your hands once he snaps out of it, startles both of you

• "Yes!" He somewhat shouts, "yes! Yoba, I swear. I care for you and nothing about you will change that."

• Proceeds to just hold your hands and blush because OHMYGOSHMYCRUSHLIKESMEANDIJUSTTOLDTHEMILIKETHEMAND-

• Later when you talk about your disability more, he recognizes the name from late night internet browsing, and will do whatever he can for you when things get bad.

• Like Sam, there is a lot of communication about how he can help because he isn't well informed

Alex

• Literally picks you up???

• Idk he is weird (it's okay we still love him)

• Like holds you bridal style and gives you a big smooch on your cheek

• He doesn't care you have a disability

• Will do his best to learn how to help!!!

• Absolutely will take care of your farm and animals if need be

• When he sets you down he gives you an actual kiss

• Shows up at your farm the next day after talking to Harvey

• He wanted to learn a bit more about helping people with disabilities, now having two important people in his life that have them! (You and George)

• The two of you talk about everything

• Overall he'd be really good about it once he got going

Shane

If he was sober at the moment

• "We all have our problems, and yours is nothing."

• "I'm shocked you want to go out with me, but remember, this was your idea!"

• Aka, he tried to act all tough but when you look at his face, he is just a softy

• He has a slight blush on his face

• He is so happy you trusted him enough to tell him your personal business

• Won't be perfect by any means at helping when things get hard, but he tries

If he was drunk at the moment

• "I'm not dealing with that."

• And then he walks away.

• Regrets it so much when he sobers up but the damage was done

• If you felt that he deserved another chance it wouldn't be for a long time

• If you get together later, every time things flare up he just feels so guilty.

Elliott

(Apologies in advance for possibly being out of character. He is the one I know the least about-)

• Similar to Alex ngl (kinda?)

• He smiles at you, places his hand at the nape of your neck, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek

• Let's his head rest on your forehead for a few moments before accepting your bouquet

• Gives you a gentle kiss

• Will learn all of the things to know about your disability

• Makes sure you check in with Harvey about it whenever things get bad

• Will make you soup :) he knows it won't 'fix' anything, but he doesn't know when else to do when people aren't feeling good

• It's cute

• Will gives you cuddles after he accepts the bouquet, and makes sure to talk to you about what you need.

• He tells you, "nothing can change the way I feel about you. You are the light of my life." (Or some fancy poetry that idk how to write)

This is the first thing I've written that I've posted, so please lmk if I made a typo or something!!! And let me know if you want me to elaborate on any prompt. Or give me a prompt! I will be posting more, I just have to edit them.

Also I mostly write x reader, which I am down to make weirdly specific. Mostly fluff or hurt/comfort, but I am down for almost anything so if you have any fic you want written, lmk!!! I might not get to it for a while because, life, but we'll see! Hope you had fun reading, sorry for the long outro-

(Thank you to my friend for proofreading if you see this)

(Edited Alex's, thanks for pointing out George is disabled!)

[chronicdisasterwrites]

these morons of jujutsu high

pairing: gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieiri and fem!reader

genre + warnings: - this is NOT a poly fic. they’re all just vvv good friends. nanami and haibara were mentioned. mentions of blood, death and general jujutsu kaisen TW stuff. smoking, the word “goddamned” is mentioned. gojo being an idiot lmfao.

overall FLUFF !!

word count: 1219

authors note: so this is just a cute, heartfelt piece about the jjk troublemakers including and reader. i was thinking of making this the intro of a potential series but ✨ let’s see ✨

enjoyyyy <3

Is this really my life?

A question that always lingers in your mind.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer was no walk in the park. Death was a regular occurrence in your line of work. Deaths you anticipated, deaths you caused, deaths of friends, and even deaths of curses. None of them are ever easy to deal with. Nothing about this goddamned job is easy.

The smell of blood is as common to you as the smell of antiseptics is to a doctor. The sound of a curse evaporating into nothingness is ingrained in your brain as the sound of a child's first laughter is ingrained in the minds of their parents. Your hands are used to the touch of the cold steel of your weapons as a guitarist is used to the wood of their guitar.

This is your life. Your weapons are your instruments and the world is your stage. The only difference is, you have the blood of the crowd on your hands every. single. day. The blood of curses, the blood of humans, the blood of your comrades, and the blood of your own body.

How could it be that this life; so full of hurt, pain, despair, regret, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and depression, can also have so much happiness, love, excitement, companionship, adventure, humor, and serenity? That’s life, you suppose. But how can a life like yours have so much love alongside such hatred?

Your friends are the reason, you suppose.

These morons of Jujutsu High.

They feel the same emotions as deeply as you do. They have all felt loss, betrayal, grief, and death as much as you have.

Gojo Satoru had basically been raised as a trophy or a high-value product kept in perfect condition for the world to gawk at with wide eyes and ulterior motives. With the weight of the responsibility of being ‘Strongest’ hanging over his shoulders and daggers and spears pointed at him from every direction, he never had the chance to be a mere child. Which is what he was. Just a child. From birth to the present day, he has had eyes on him with the neon sign labeled ‘Strongest Sorcerer Ever’ blinking over his head. Always on his guard, being wary of who to trust. Not a moment to be a child. Not a moment to be a teenager and certainly not a moment to be an independent adult, free to choose who to love or what to do in life. He only has one thing to do. One obligation he has had since birth. Be the strongest. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one.

It's a pretty lonely role for one person to bear.

Geto Suguru has kind eyes, a simple smile, and an extremely feared cursed technique; but what that smile and easygoing personality covers is his heart burdened with the horrors he has had to face in his life. He too, was born with the responsibility of using his cursed technique to help people. Born with the ability to absorb curses and later use them as he so desires. Living every day just killing and absorbing something that tastes like a rag covered in vomit and shit. Having to force your oesophagus to open up and force your mind to think of something more delicious whilst absorbing the thing you killed a few minutes ago is all second nature to Geto Suguru. Doesn’t mean it ever gets easier. But the smile comes easily to him and his voice stays soft and stable as his words soothe even those who hate him.

Because Geto Suguru wants to help those who are weak, and he would swallow all the curses necessary in order to do so.

Shoko Ieiri is the epitome of genius. Since she was a child she knew fully how to use the reversed curse technique; the ability to heal oneself and others, a technique even the strongest and most experienced jujutsu sorcerers have trouble mastering. Being so valuable means she has to stay in a lot, or go to missions alone a lot. She doesn’t get to choose missions, doesn’t get to accompany her friends to even ‘potentially’ dangerous locations. Being so valuable, she is the first person every jujutsu sorcerer goes to for healing and rejuvenation. Which also means she has to see a lot of her comrades lie on the steel bed, lifeless and cold and limp. She is the one who has to patch them up and she is the one who has to cut them open. Dealing with death and the aftermath is her job.

That's a lot of death for two eyes to see and two hands to explore.

Meeting them, knowing them, and growing to love them is the most rewarding experience your roller coaster of a life has had to offer by far. Checking out every single cafe Japan has to offer, milking Satoru of all his wealth by going out to eat and Satoru eating the most (ironically), pissing off Yaga-Sensei, celebrating birthdays, arguing and then making up with actions instead of verbal apologies, being the loudest group in every train station, smoke breaks with Shoko and Suguru while hiding away from Satoru, spending sleepless nights under the stars with Satoru, teasing Nanami and Haibara for acting like a 50-year-old married couple, fighting curses and always having each other’s backs. This was your family. However dysfunctional and however small.

So now, sitting in the classroom watching Suguru and Satoru bicker about who knows what this time, with Shoko sitting next to you fiddling around with Satoru’s sunglasses making faces and terrible impressions, bathed in the golden rays flooding the room through the windows as the sun goes down, you ponder the question; is this really your life?

You hear your name being called and the train of thought comes to a halt, as you look up to find honey-gold eyes staring back at you.

“What’re you thinking about so hard?” Suguru asks with his soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“She’s obviously thinking about how right I am and how wrong you are, Suguru,” Satoru interjects with his usual cocky smile and teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, she definitely thinks a seal can beat a hippo in a fight to the death,” Shoko quips with unimpressed eyes and an obviously sarcastic smile.

Satoru slaps his hand on the desk so loudly that the sound reverberates throughout the entire floor you’re on, “HAH! Thank you Shoko, exactly what I’m saying. Of course I’m right.”

He wears an accomplished smile as the sarcasm completely flies over his stupid head.

“Gojo… I was joking. You’re obviously wrong.”

You can almost hear something crack in his head. The sound of disappointment.

“HEY just think about it okay? So a seal-“

As a new chapter of bickering begins between Shoko and Satoru, Suguru nudges your shoulder with a quirk of his eyebrows, silently repeating his previous question.

You look at him, look back at Satoru and Shoko and shake your head with a content smile and a huff of laughter, “Just thinking about life, I guess.”

With a hum and a smile Suguru relaxes on your other side as you both turn your attention to the ongoing argument unravelling before you.

Yeah. This really is my life.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Unspoken Bonds | 1 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader

Warning: NSFW; SMUT; PIV sex; fingering; oral sex, rough sex; multiple orgasms; spanking; established relationship; anything else I failed to mention.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , -

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The sterile atmosphere of the operating room enveloped you as you stood beside the surgical table, ready for the high-stakes procedure. 

The room hummed with anticipation as you prepared for the challenging surgery on the pregnant patient with a tumor near her baby.

Nurses passed instruments with practiced precision, and the anesthesiologist monitored both the mother and baby's vital signs.

As the first incision was made, your voice cut through the silence. "Scalpel," you calmly requested, your steady hand extending for the tool. The room buzzed with efficiency as the surgery unfolded, a ballet of expertise choreographed by the young surgeon.

Hours passed, and tension gripped the room. Your focused expression betrayed no sign of fatigue as you navigated the complexities of the delicate operation. Amidst the beeping monitors and hushed whispers, the team communicated seamlessly.

Finally, after seven intense hours, the moment arrived – the successful removal of the tumor. 

You sighed in relief, a subtle smile breaking through your composed demeanor. "Sutures," you instructed, bringing the surgery to its triumphant conclusion.

In the recovery room, the patient stirred awake. You approached her bedside, a warmth in her eyes. "You did great. The tumor has been successfully removed, and both you and your baby are safe," you reassured the patient.

The grateful mother's eyes welled with tears as she held her newborn for the first time. "Thank you, Dr. Y/N," she whispered.

You nodded with humility. "It's my job. Just doing what I love," you replied.

In the hospital lounge, hushed whispers followed your departure from the operating room. Colleagues gathered, their voices lowered as they dissected your success with admiration and skepticism.

"Did you see how smoothly she handled that surgery?" one doctor remarked, grudging respect evident in his tone.

A nurse, however, chimed in with a skeptical undertone. "I heard she doesn't collaborate much. Always on her own.”

The conversation continued, weaving through a tapestry of gossip and half-truths. In the corner, the hospital director's grandson, Kyle Anderson, nursing his jealousy, added his commentary. "She's not as good as they say. Grandfather's just protecting her because she's alone."

Others nodded, some exchanging knowing glances. The lone wolf reputation clung to Dr. Y/N, the whispers amplifying your isolation. 

The hospital director, Jonathan Anderson, aware of the murmurs, supported the talented surgeon.

In the quiet solitude of the changing room, you peeled off your surgical attire, the lingering scent of antiseptic filling the air. As you reached for your coat, Dr. Mitchell, a colleague, approached with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Y/N! That was quite the surgery today. We should go for a drink to celebrate, what do you say?" he suggested, a genuine attempt to bridge the gap.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with a message: "Can we meet?"

A momentary softening in your expression hinted at a hidden world beyond the hospital walls.

You politely declined the offer and explained, "I've got other appointments tonight." 

Quickly typing a reply to her heartfelt message, "9 p.m. Usual place. Wait for me." 

Mitchell, accepting your response. He saw you smiling. He thought the person who texted you must be close to you.

What kind of person can make a lone wolf like you smile like that? 

Your leg strides to the parking lot, then enter your sports car. 

You rushed to the hotel, eager and nervous. With a quick swipe, the door opened, revealing a softly lit room. There he was, Bucky Barnes.

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. Bucky is lying on the bed reading a book. 

As you approached, he greeted you with a smile of confidence and playfulness.

Bucky's playful charm effortlessly swept away the hospital stress and gossip that plagued your mind.

He nuzzled your cheek, “I guess your surgery went well?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. He gently takes off your clothes. 

You hummed. Enjoying the kisses from him that made you relax.

In a minute, all your clothes are on the floor. Bucky gently carried you to the bed. 

Tonight, you just want to be close to him. Being with him makes you forget everything at the hospital. 

“Uh, huh…!”

The air in the spacious room grew heavy with impassioned cries. 

With his firm, large hands, the man firmly gripped your breasts, eliciting a heated gasp that escaped your parted lips. His eyes glistened with anticipation, flickering like a candle flame in a breeze as you trembled and clung to the man’s shoulders.

Lowering his head, Bucky sensually licked your swollen nipple with his warm, velvety tongue.

The room was filled with lewd noises as the man suckled on your breasts, causing your arousal to intensify.

The sensation of his thumb’s firm tip pressing against your clitoris overwhelmed you with pleasure. 

Then Bucky squeezed your legs into an M-shape and buried his head in your  pussy to give your oral sex.

He opens his mouth and tastes your pussy; he uses his flexible tongue. You shuddered in excitement after feeling his mouth and tongue on your pussy, you were too sensitive, and your body was shaking in excitement.

Then you felt his cock enter your hole. He slowly inserted himself inside you. At that completed union, both of you let out low gasps. “Mmm…”

Finally, he filled you up. You've been waiting for this. 

As soon as Bucky entered you deeply, he lofted your hips and began to thrust.

You felt as if this intense and comfortable pleasure invaded your entire body and limbs. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist to make it easier for him to move in and out. 

Your seductive actions made his eyes darker. His penis thrusting more fiercely inside of you. 

Bucky frowned slightly and let out a low gasp, "So tight."

When Bucky is ramming his big cock into your pussy, he also spanks your ass.

He spanked your ass cheeks using the palm of his hands. Bucky found out you like to be spanked because he felt your pussy become so tight that clamping his cock so tight. 

You were fucked roughly; in this position, both of you are very tightly connected, his strength is very strong, and his cock can penetrate deeper inside you.

You felt so satisfied that you cried.

You cried in delight.

This is what you want. Get fucked that made you forget everything. 

When Bucky was about to ejaculate, he pushed his cock inside your tight cunt and ejaculated all his semen into the condom. 

After he shot all his semen and calmed down from his orgasm, he came out satisfied.

You orgasmed three times and felt that you were one step away from heaven. 

You reached your hands to him and said “Hold me.”

Bucky chuckled and happily gave what you asked. Only Bucky could see you being cute and vulnerable at the same time. 

Both of you finally took a break and slept for a while. Then Bucky felt a little movement beside him and saw you sitting on the bed, reading the book he had looked at earlier.

The book was for a big doctor's exam. You were nice enough to share notes and give advice to help Bucky understand the medical stuff.

The relationship between you two is a bit complicated. Simply put, you're like the best doctor, teacher, and supportive figure – a bit like a sugar mommy – all rolled into one for Bucky. 

How did you two meet? 

For Bucky, you're the answer he's been looking for. 

Flashback Start

Bucky met you while working as a hostess at the exclusive club, Elysium Haven, which is only accessible to selected customers with expensive annual fees. 

The hostess salary, however, paid well for Bucky, who juggled multiple jobs to cover his college tuition and his sister's surgery.

One day, the manager tasked him with accompanying a new guest recommended by their VVIP patron. Upon entering the private room, Bucky was surprised to see you. 

The female customers he encountered typically wore dresses, but you were different – donning scrubs and Crocs shoes, indicating that you were a surgeon. 

This detail didn't escape Bucky's notice, especially since he was studying to become one.

Bucky introduced himself, and you simply nodded, appearing quiet.

The older man, whom Bucky knew as the VVIP Dr. Jonathan, laughed. "This girl, if I hadn't dragged her out of the hospital, she would have set a record for working a month without leaving. If she complained, it would reflect badly on the hospital. That's why I brought her here. Hahaha."

Bucky was amazed to hear that. He glanced at you, but you didn't say anything, choosing to sip your wine.

Jonathan sighed heavily, looking at you, who remained silent. He felt a sense of pity towards you. If you weren't born as an orphan without influential family ties, perhaps you wouldn't be bullied at the hospital that he owned. 

What made it worse was that his grandson, Kyle, was the one tormenting you. Other young doctors followed Kyle's orders and always left the challenging surgeries for you to handle.

Hoping that you would fail, the hospital aimed to put all the blame on you. However, their actions became a double-edged sword. Due to the numerous surgeries you had to undertake, you emerged as the best surgeon the hospital had ever seen.

Jonathan looked at Bucky and said, “I'll leave her to you,” before exiting the room.

Once Jonathan left, Bucky waited and approached you, asking, “Can you perform a surgery for my sister?”

Your eyebrows raised at the unexpected request.

Bucky went on to explain his sister's case. Doctors had declared her sickness impossible to be treated through surgery.

"Impossible?" That was the word you liked to hear in this line of work. You questioned him, “Do you have her medical records?”

As a diligent medical student, Bucky always had his sister's files. Every day, he spent hours in the library, searching for answers. He grabbed his phone and showed you the file.

You carefully examined the records – photos, X-rays, blood tests – and remained silent for a long time.

Bucky anticipated that you would echo the sentiments of other doctors, deeming the surgery impossible. 

However, to his delight, he heard, “The reason why other doctors said they can't do it is that they don't have the equipment and brain like me. It's difficult, and it will take 9 hours.”

Your confidence surprised Bucky; little did he know you were a surgery enthusiast, always seeking challenging cases to stimulate your brain.

Suddenly, Bucky felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him when you asked, “But how are you going to compensate me? My skills are expensive.”

What Bucky responded with caught you off guard, “I will pay with my body.”

You chuckled, unable to believe you had encountered someone as peculiar as him. Issuing an order, you said, “Stripped.”

Bucky knew he had sold his body and soul at that moment. Standing up, he slowly removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-toned body and six-pack.

As he was about to unbuckle his belt, you intervened with a firm “Enough.”

Bucky stopped, thinking you didn't like what you saw. He blamed himself for not working out for a month.

You didn't say anything. Instead, you gulped down the wine in one go, letting out a satisfied moan, “Ahh…” 

You wiped your lips with your hand. Bucky couldn't help but see your actions through his eyes, making you appear like a vampire.

You stood up and headed out from the private room. However, before leaving, you said, “Bring your sister to Metropolitan General Hospital tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

You gave him a final look, “Remember what you just said.”

After you were gone, Bucky knelt on the floor, feeling the burden lifted from his shoulders.

He knew he had just sold his body, but the price he had to pay was to have his sister healthy again.

You fulfilled your promise, and Bucky brought his sister. You immediately booked surgery within the same week. His sister underwent the surgery and regained her health, now able to run again.

As he anticipated paying the price, you didn't seem interested and never mentioned it. However, he later learned that you had only slept with him to vent your frustrations. You sought his company whenever you were stressed, angry, or frustrated.

Then, to his surprise, you again gave him an allowance higher than any salary from his part-time job. Some people might roll their eyes if they discovered the story between him and you.

But for Bucky, you were an angel who saved him.

Flashback End

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist and sighed.

You asked, “What's wrong?”

Bucky said, “The man who could be your husband is a lucky guy.”

You flicked his forehead, making Bucky scream, ‘ouch,’ then gave you puppy eyes. You chuckled, blew on his forehead, and gently kissed it.

You looked at the ceiling and said, “If I had the courage to talk to another man. I would consider myself lucky to be with you since you're out of my league.”

Bucky's heart almost jumped; it was his first hearing of your confession.

Truth be told, he had started to develop feelings for you, especially after you saved his sister. 

He never mentioned it, knowing you were way out of his league. That's why he studied hard to become a doctor, hoping to have the chance to stand beside you.

‘Ring’

A phone rang, and Bucky knew it was your phone.

You never missed a call; as usual, it was an emergency requiring you at the hospital.

You said to the phone, “Give me 30 minutes.”

Bucky knew nothing could hold you back.

You kissed his lips and said, “Thank you for today; go back to sleep. And good luck for today's exam.”

Bucky smiled and said, “Thanks, and be careful.”

After you took a quick shower and left, Bucky found a message on his phone – a significant amount of money had been deposited into his bank account. It was from you.

Bucky sighed heavily, grappling with the overwhelming generosity you consistently showed him. 

In his eyes, you were far too good for him, and the weight of your kindness settled on his shoulders as he contemplated the depth of your unwavering support.

Bucky never thought this calm day could turn into a thunderstorm. 

When the thunder comes.

Six months later, he found himself staring at you, pale and motionless. Now, your life depended on the rhythmic beeping of the machine beside you.

His once steadfast and vibrant presence now lay fragile and vulnerable. Bucky clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him. He swore to himself that he would find the person responsible for putting you into a coma.

Author Note :

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[bookshelfdreams]

ofmd wasn't "profitable" enough but I didn't even get the feeling hbo wanted to make money off of it. They didn't promote it when s1 dropped, and the promo for s2 was erratic at best. They don't sell merch. Or physical copies. There's no bts documentaries other than what actors (shoutout to Samba ilu) make themselves in their spare time.

It took more than a full year for me to be able to watch s1 legally! I still can't access s2 legally anywhere! It's not that ofmd is unprofitable, it's that hbo refuses to profit off of it, because - well, because profiting off of it would mean investing work and money into it.

And like. Of course, when you compare it to the juggernauts hbo holds rights to, like GoT, ofmd is small fishes. But.

How on earth do these clowns think cult classics happen?

A Game of Thrones was first published in 1996 and didn't make it on the NYT beststeller list until 2011. The first edition of the first Harry Potter book was 500 pieces. And yeah, TV shows are different, but if you look at today's media landscape, would things like Star Trek, or Buffy, or Doctor Who stand the slightest chance? These things take time, is my point. A piece of media doesn't become a massively profitable, beloved classic over night. It takes time and effort to build that kind of franchise.

And the thing is! Nobody who makes these decisions even likes stories. I'm convinced that whoever is in charge at hbo, at amazon prime, even at disney, thinks storytelling is dumb and for idiots. They think it's enough to just slap the name of something people love on whatever garbage they spit out, for it to be profitable. They think it's the brand that sells: Look this has "Lord of the Rings" on it! Look, this one has "Game of Thrones", you like Game of Thrones don't you? Watch my show, boy.

But this isn't how this works. It's not the name that sells (unless, I suppose, you're the MCU, and even there one gets the impression the trick is finally stopping to work), especially not when the product is bad. People aren't idiots.

But it's not about making something good. It's not about making a meaningful piece of art, or telling an engaging story. ofmd served its purpose; it drew in all the subscribers it ever would, so there's no point in letting it go on. Even in the s2 that we did get, this is evident: the penny pinching is palpable, it's clear that the studio didn't want to spend any more money than absolutely necessary on it, and then cut the budget by 40%.

It's not about art. It never has been.

And it's not even about profit, because to be profitable eventually, stories have to be allowed to thrive first. You tell a good story first, and success happens later, often much, much later.

And ofmd was incredibly, astonishingly successful. It was the most in-demand series for weeks after the s1 finale. But even that wasn't enough, it's never enough, ofmd could have made record-setting profits and it still would have been cancelled, because -

Well, I don't know. Because we live in a bad time for art. Because Orwell was right, and stories have become commodities, like shoelaces. Because. Well. It's not about telling a story, is it?

What's the point of a story? What's the point of making something for the joy of making it? What's the point of a piece of art, existing, if it cannot be transferred into numbers for the stockholders?

idk how to end this. I hope David Jenkins finishes the story he wanted to tell, even if just for himself. I hope, against all odds, that weird, fun, heartfelt, beautiful little stories like ofmd continue to happen.

But goddammit.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Epilogue

Warnings: SMUT!! and also BAD WRITING!! TYPOS AS WELL PROBABLY!! BUT MAINLY THE SMUT!!!

Word Count: 21.5K (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 159 pages single space of reading.)

A/N: Here it is. The finale of my heartfelt daydream, laid bare for you all to see. I hope you've enjoyed the ride: the road ends here.

GIF: @gavidaily (i've been waiting since part 1 to use this mf gif)

Previously on Just Pretend

"Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises."

~

"You're late. It's 6:45." "Good morning to you too, Gavira."

~

Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else.

~

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."

"I don't hate you. I think."

~

Gavi stopped thinking. He acted on impulse only. He tugged the wrist that was in his hand, pulling you in. Your head met with his hard chest, and you felt one arm circle your shoulder. You remained like this for a long moment: up against Gavi, his arm pressing you into his chest, his shirt soaking up the wetness on your cheeks.

"'m sorry. I won't let him talk to you that way anymore."

~

"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.

"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

~

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

~

"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."

~

"My heart, doctora. When I give it to you, please keep it. Forever."

~

Now...

"Miss y/l/n, due to the... historic lack of women in the club, we do not have internal policies regarding relationships between players and employees. We just use the ones that La Liga as a whole have put in place. Those are quite forgiving, in my opinion. You can enter a romantic workplace relationship as long as it is appropriately disclosed, and you cannot be terminated as a result of that relationship ending. I saw the photo of you being pulled onto the field during the final of the Supercopa. Do you mean to tell me it was not with romantic intent?"

You had never experienced more severe whiplash in your life. First, you had been reprimanded for being too close to Pablo, for showing what Xavi classified as 'favoritism', as it hurt the team dynamic. Then you had been ridiculed by staff and players for allegedly sleeping with Pablo, and had been told you could be fire for doing so even if it was a bold faced lie. And now, months later, you were being told that it was not only okay for you to be in a relationship with Pablo, but you literally couldn't lose your job if you did? Someone in the family must have been praying for you. Or for Pablo. Was Pedri religious?

"Dr. Gonzalez, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Gavi and I are just friends. Not even - we're just coworkers that get along well! There was no romance happening anywhere on the field."

And it was true. Well, sort of. You couldn't speak for Gavi's intention, but you would bet that he hadn't meant to do anything that could be perceived as romantic. Not only was he incredibly shy when it came to anything to do with his private life, but moreover, you had started to toy with the idea that maybe you were wrong about Pablo. Maybe you had misread the signs. Maybe Pedri's stylist, who you now also so lovingly referred to as naranja, had only fed into your delusions instead of delivering the hard truth to you.

"He's in love with you, stupid."

That's exactly what she had said to you when you answered the question 'so are you close to Pedri?', stating that the things Pablo did for you were far from the actions of a friend. And she was right. Friends didn't need to be physically touching in order to have a peaceful night of sleep. Friends don't feel the need to always be near the other, unable to focus if one wasn't near. Friends certainly didn't imagine each other in compromising situations: shirtless, panting, trying so hard to control his throbbing- no. Friends certainly didn't imagine such scenes. Most of all, friends didn't find themselves in these intimate moments, the air thick with anticipation, where lips were centimeters from meeting, and seconds away from saying something that would change the dynamic forever. Well, at least that's what you thought. Maybe Naranja would be your friend long enough to see if these were truly just normal hallmarks of friendship (although Pedri might be a tad upset if the two of you started sleeping together). You're glad she offered her cellphone number to you.

But this was not the only opinion that was presented to you. You had been sitting on your couch one night, a rare evening when Gavi had promised to accompany Ansu to one hangout or another, his absence felt greatly. It had been weeks since you had a moment that wasn't filled by Pablo's voice, his laughter, his breathing as you completed an assignment while he scrolled through TikTok. There was an eerie silence to the house now, and you needed something to take your thoughts off of your maladaptive daydreams of Pablo laying on your couch, looking up at you through long lashes with a tender gaze. It was almost as if you could run your hands through his messed up brown locks, watching his eyes close as you massaged his scalp, feeling him lean more into your touch.That's all you wanted. Not even for Pablo to come to you with a grand confession of love, but just to be with him with no boundaries, no fear, no awkwardness. Just love and safety and the freedom to exist as you were. Together.

But there was no idle chatter or TikTok sounds to fill the silence, and so you had to do so yourself. You made yourself a delectable cup of tea, favorite mug warming your palm as you tried to balance your plate of snacks in the other. The camp nutritionists had been testing recipes all week, and had sent you home with some of the best food you had ever had, including a tupperware of cookies that could give those little Nestle birds a run for their money. Comfortable on the couch in that same black hoodie with the embroidered '6', you qued, rather ironically, He's Just Not That Into You (a great romcom, but not for people doubting if they're deserving of being loved). Your phone had lit up with a familiar name that you hadn't seen in months now.

"Angelika! How are you? How was fashion week? I saw the collection on Instagram. It looked stunning!"

Since her announcement about moving to Paris, you hadn't heard a peep from your 'best friend'. A mutual friend you ran into at the market had told you her move had been delayed until after the collection had shown at fashion week since the creative director had surprisingly quit, so everything was on ice until he was replaced. You had seen her collection on Diet Prada, not questioning why you hadn't seen the posts that she had made celebrating her work.

"Oh it was fabulous, and Alessandro just got replaced so Paris must be coming soon. I would have invited you, but I only got 6 invitations, and you're always so busy. Didn't want to have an empty seat."

She knew she had made a mistake when she saw your face on the screen drop. You had been the main supporter of Ang's career since you met her, and yet she didn't even bother sending you an invitation or seeing if you might be able to attend.

"Anyway, how have you been? What's new with you?"

You spoke briefly about school and work, before taking a deep breath and opening up the gnarly can of worms that was you and Gavi's current situation. You had no other people with enough context or who you felt comfortable enough with to reveal all your thoughts on the matter. All your hopes and dreams that he would sweep you off your feet. All your insecurities and fears that you had created something unhealthy, something that would dissolve into worse than nothing. No matter how you spun it, it was nice to have a friend, even if you had to ignore that you were walking a mile to see an inch in return.

Angelika listened rather silently to the entire series of events, asking one or two clarifying questions, but for the most part allowing you to monologue. When you finished speaking, you sighed rather dreamily and fell back into your couch, pulling your (Gavi's) hoodie closer around you. Sometime you forgot how much he had bulked up, until you were drowning in the shirts he had donated to you. Maybe there was something there. Now that Dr. G had confessed he thought you two were already in a relationship, the only missing piece was Pablo. You had tried to hint to him that, if he felt even the slightest affection towards you, he should go for it. Make the shot. The goal was empty - hell, the goalie would even guide the ball in for him. Had you been too subtle with your affections? Or had he purposefully ignored the brush of your lips on his throat in order to preserve your pride?

“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit delusional?”

Angelika’s statement was like a splash of ice water on your warm and fuzzy form. You looked at the FaceTime call like the woman on the screen in front of you had grown horns from her head.

“I’m … what?”

“Delusional. I mean it seems like you’re reading too much into his actions. So he what? Used you as his driver and let you keep a hoodie he got from the staff for free? Nothing super special.”

“But… but it wasn’t just that. He-“ She hadn’t even let you finish your sentence, not so subtly rolling her eyes, like she was so utterly bored with your story.

“Yeah, yeah, he punched your ex boyfriend who cheated on you. But I mean, cmon, you like, refused to fuck him. This is the second guy to cheat on you. Maybe it’s you, ha. And Gavi is literally just a raging teenager who has been looking to hit someone. I don’t think you should fly into your princess fantasies because he he finally lost his shit. And now you’re sleeping next to him every night and he’s waiting for you to give him some pussy. Better melt up quick, ice princess, before he gets tired of waiting.”

There it was again. The nausea. The head pounding. The vision blurring and room spinning. The sinking feeling that you were being betrayed by someone you had let in again. If you squinted your eyes a little, she might have even slightly resembled Martin.

“You… think he’s only being nice to me so that I’ll sleep with him?” You asked, voice soft and slow to hide the shake desperately wanting to emerge.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like there’s much else there. Now you look upset, but don’t be. I’m just telling you the truth so you don’t get hurt.”

“No, you’re just being a bitch.”

Your response seemed to have caught the both of you off guard. Your face had gone red with frustration, hands trembling with rage that you were desperately trying to quell. What a funny thing, rage. Feminine rage to be exact. The rage of men is common place in society - sort of like bullets. Everyone has heard a gunshot or seen what a bullet can do, in their personal life or on a screen. Male rage and fury is a normal part of life that everyone expects and respects. People bite their tongues hard enough to draw blood before they dare lash out at a man, fearful of sharp words and blunt fists. But feminine rage wasn’t a real threat. Oh no, it was more of a concept. A black and red Pinterest aesthetic in red and black, with pinups and devil horns and swirling script. It was only a danger to the self; a threat of implosion with no shrapnel to hit anyone else. A star dying, a mind shattering, as entertainment to those around. There was never an expectation for her to lash out and defend herself against those who poked at her until she bled. But should a cornered lioness cower in fear rather than attacking?

“What… what the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, what the hell is wrong with you, Angelika? All I’ve done since the day I met you is try and be there for you. All I’ve done is support you through everything - relationships, family drama, you’re entire fucking career! You had professors tell you that you would be a generic designer for H&M, and I was there for you. I was the only person with you at three in the fucking morning telling you that you could do better, that you could be amazing. I was a pincushion, a mannequin, a personal chauffeur to the fabric store. And I didn’t ever do these things because I wanted something in return. I genuinely cared about you and just wanted to see my closest friend succeed! But you couldn’t even pretend to care about this obviously one-sided relationship. All I ever was to you was a person to use when you needed and thrown away when you didn’t. I was preparing for my dream interview, my biggest career goal since I was a fucking child, and not only did you ‘forget’ to give me one word of encouragement, you asked me to be your fucking ride home! And you know what? I made my peace with it. I came to terms with the fact that you thought I was incompetent at my job because everyone seems to think I’m a physio ditz. But for you to call me the nickname people called me in college to objectify me, and then say all I’m worthy of is sex?!”

Angelika was now teary eyed and red in the face. She was shaking her head, unable to respond, acting like the spitting image of a deer caught in the headlights. She was now stumbling over her words, unable to string a complete sentence together.

“That’s … thats not true I didn’t say that.”

“No, that’s exactly what you just said. Don’t be a liar on top of being a shit person. You just said it was my fault I got cheated on by my last two partners. And now I’ve still decided to give you the benefit of the doubt after you straight up admitted to me that you didn’t think of me as one of the top six people in your happy moments. I’ve poured my heart out to you and you don’t even have the decency to lie! You either said that to purposefully hurt me, or you never cared enough to listen when I spoke. Either way, you’re just the last in a long line of people who I have let walk all over me.”

Your expression was steeled and icy. You hadn’t even raised your voice once during the entire exchange, remaining calm and level headed despite the deep cuts you had made in Angelika’s self-confidence. Your lips were downturned and brows knitted together, looking at her with all the loathing she had caused you to feel for yourself. It was hard to be alone, but it was better than being surrounded with people who convinced you that you would never be enough if you didn’t fit their mold. The girl on the other side of the FaceTime call was clearly experiencing every stage of grief all at once, unsure how to respond. She had gotten through the denial, and was knee-deep in the anger. But anger did not spark eloquence, sparking the simple response of,

“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”

And you could swear you saw genuine fear in her eyes as a bright, beaming smile spread across your face. Maybe you had never seen love, but you had seen friendship. You had seen that there were people ready to carry your entire world on their shoulders. And no matter how slowly, you were working to believe that you could be loved, even by yourself. The rage had evaporated and recrystallized as content. So you smiled sickeningly sweetly at Angelika, and gave her a heartfelt response.

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

Pressing the bright red button to end the call was one of the most satisfying things you had ever done in your life. The headache and nausea and ‘I want to die’ feeling that you usually had after a confrontation was nowhere to be found. Quite the opposite, actually. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your entire chest felt like it had more room for air. Was this what every day was like for people without anxiety? How glorious. Pressing play on Gennifer Goodwyne’s best work, you made a mental note to speak to a therapist the following morning. This felt amazing. You were genuinely smiling at… what exactly? The loss of a friend? No, no - liberation from someone’s foot on your neck. What new and exciting things could you do with this new found freedom, this fresh lease on life? Naturally, you did your favorite activity: picking up the phone and texting Gavi.

Gone were the days of Pablo wracking his brain for any excuse to email, text, or call you. It was almost funny how much he had to talk himself up, looking at his reflection and reiterating how much of a 'cool, suave guy' he was before typing out a very intelligent and eloquent 'hi'. Watching a series that he had no interest in initially just to have something to talk to you about that wasn't one of his leg muscles (no interest initially - now he was patiently waiting 4-6 weeks for his neon sign in the shape of the House Stark sigil). Now it was you who couldn't leave Gavi alone, using your messages to him as a pseudo journal, spewing your entire stream of consciousness into little blue bubbles.

[You]: PABLO

[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID

Locking your phone and resting it on your chest, you refocused on the chick flick illuminating the darkness of your living room, the device vibrating against you less than 30 seconds later. As much as you would like to pretend it was surprising to receive a response so quickly, this was the normal routine the two of you had created. One needed merely call out, and the other would come running.

[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small

[Pablito]: bcs pedri doesnt have a lot of space fr bodies in his car

There it was again: the giggling, the lip bite, the stupid half smile that made you look less like Cindy Crawford and more like the Grinch after Christmas was destroyed. But it was the natural way your body reacted to Pablo - like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boyband member in a brightly-colored magazine. Lord, how were you supposed to be normal around him? Oh how wonderful it would be to have even one inkling that Pablo reacted this way when he heard from you. But in your head, he was still Pablo Gavi with capital letters, who was standing ever so coolly with a beer in hand as he laughed with his other hot rich young athlete friends. You could never picture him as he truly was, shy and puppy-like, beer not even touched as he held his phone in one hand and twirling his hoodie string in the other. He bit down on his lip as well, eyebrows together as he waited for a response. Despite the relationship that had grown for the last six months, he still held his breath slightly when he saw the three little 'typing' dots float on his screen.

[Doctora]: i don't think i can convey the full force over text

[Doctora]: i can come over and explain it to you in person tho

"Guys, I think I need to leave." Pablo said abruptly, looking up at the group of boys, causing a record-scratch moment that abruptly ended the conversation. The heated conversation over whether the Drake curse was real had screeched to a halt, and now all four of the young Barca players were staring in disbelief.

"You haven't even been here for an hour. Where the hell could you need to be right now?" It was Alejandro who spoke up, the only one of the four who was not acutely aware of the fact that Gavi was borderline prepared to give up his entire career for you. He only had a mild inkling.

"Um... one of my friends is coming to my house and I'm going to meet them.''

"Who? We know all your friends. Who is coming over?" Ale asked, draping an arm over fellow La Masia baby Ansu, who smirked at the Sevillano as well.

"Yes, Pablito. Who is it? Ilias?" Ansu asked, obviously enjoying the bright red that seeped into Gavi's face.

"Or maybe Alvaro?" Ale seemed to be enjoying this too much, smiling brightly as Pedri tried to sip his beer without suffocating due to laughter.

"If it's one of the boys, then maybe we should come with you! Beers from the convenience store are cheaper anyways."

Pablo was sweating bullets. How could he say that he wanted to run home to hear what might possibly be the most mundane story about keeping houseplants alive?

"No, no it's... someone from back home. You guys wouldn't know her-HIM! You wouldn't know him." That may have been the worst save Pablo had ever made in his life, including the time his friends made his 5'0 self play keeper in a pick up match. Pedri finally lost the battle and spit out his beer, laughing loudly with the rest of the boys.

"Bro, why can't you just admit your massive crush on the doctor already. It's honestly getting a little tiring at this point. You've been in love with her for like three months now-" Ansu started, moving towards Gavi and clapping him on the shoulder before being interrupted by Pedri, who corrected,

"More like six months actually."

"Ah! There is no way!" Now Pablo was being ping-ponged between his two school friends, trying to keep himself from imploding from embarrassment.

"Why haven't you told her yet? Seriously now." Ale asked, pulling up a chair for himself and Pablo, the group sitting back down, conversation topic having changed into something juicier.

"You forget that he like stopped hating her and then she directly got a boyfriend, right?" Pedri said, signalling for another round of stellas to be brought over to the table.

"I don't think we should order another round. I was going to-" Pablo started, trying to nervously get up. Would he be able to find a taxi? Or should he just order an Uber? Neither possibility was explored as Pedri stuck his arm out and pushed him back into his seat, where he was now firmly locked in.

"Spill your guts. The quicker you talk, the quicker you can tell her to come over. I'll drive you home."

"Should you really be driving if you're going to be drinking?" Pablo asked cautiously as the four beers were placed on the table.

"oh, no, I'm done for the night. Two are for Ale and Ansu, and the other two are for you. For, ya know, confidence."

[Pablito]: u wnna met me at my hosue in an hours

The six minute pause between the 'Read' notification and the response from Pablo had worried you slightly. It was just enough time for the anxiety to seep into your bones. Did he find your desire to see him overwhelming and (God-forbid) clingy? Was he showing the message to Pedri & Co., laughing at your desperation? The misspelling made you even more worried. The spiral of thoughts was taking a sharp turn in the downwards direction. Was he even looking at his phone while typing? You didn't want to be a burden to him during one of the rare nights he could enjoy himself.

[Doctora]: are you sure? i don't have to come over if you're busy

"See now she doesn't want to come." Pablo said, now two beers deep with one more to go so that Pedri would let him leave.

"You're so stupid, Pablo. She wants you to want her to come over." Ansu said frustratedly. Pablo was trying to say as quickly as possible in between gulps what was stopping him from confessing his feelings to you. It had gone along the lines of,

"Well, first I thought I hated her, then I realized I was attracted to her as soon as she got an awful boyfriend, then we became like friends, I guess? Then I just kind of never wanted to ever be away from her. I had a hard time picturing a future that she wasn't a part of. Like, it started to make me have this weird aching feeling in my chest. And now I want to tell her all of this but she like, sees me as a friend and has had a shit time with her male friends and I don't want to permanently traumatize someone I love."

There was definitely more beer spit into the air and on the floor than there was in anyone's mouth.

"What did you just say?!" His too schoolmates echoed loudly, while Pedri just stared at him in a shocked state.

Pablo's brain was swimming in beer bubbles, unable to connect any dots and make intelligent, let alone sit and explain the process and intricacies of figuring out that he was, in fact, in love with you. So he ignored the question, asking rather for advice as to how he could get you to come over to his house.

"I don't think she needs that much convincing, seeing as you guys literally sleep beside each other for the majority of the week."

"Pedri, please. Enough details. You're just going to sit here and casually tell us the doctor has been in Pablito's bed repeatedly and he has yet to ask her on a date? I might collapse if I hear another shocking piece of information." Ale exclaimed, one hand over his heart as he leaned over, Ansu above him in what appeared to be genuine distress for his cardiac health.

"Pablo," Pedri started, sitting up in his seat and placing his elbows on his shoulders, obviously meaning business. "Now it's time to exercise that one petite little romantic muscle in your body."

"Isn't every muscle in his body petite?" Ansu braced himself for the punch in the arm that he received, but it was softer than previous attacks. Maybe the alcohol was really hitting him.

"Does it bother you that she asked to come over?"

"No!" Pablo responded quicker than his teammates thought possible. "I always want her to come over. She doesn't even need to ask. I would give her a key to the place if she wanted. Hell, I would sign the house over in her name. Do you think I could ask her to move in with me as friends?" His foggy brain registered the laughter, but didn't quite understand it. He would love for you to be in his house, walking through the door with you every evening, eating on the couch, fighting over the comforter and cuddling in the cold.

"See now that's... kind of a lot for a girl who doesn't know you have feelings for her. Which is a whole separate issue of oblivion that we can address later. Let's edit it down. Hand me your phone."

[Pablito]: never too busy for you. see you in an hour ;)

You stared at the wink on your screen with wide eyes. Had Pablo's phone been hacked? He had sent emojis before, but usually when he was making a cheesy joke or mocking someone else. This was ... well you actually couldn't say. Calling this behavior 'weird' would really make everything you two did, like cuddling and sleeping over and trauma-dumping, seem 'weird' as well. The only time he had ever been so outwardly flirty with you was when...

[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?

[Doctora]: I'm coming over to kick ur ass

"I think I got you in trouble." Pedri said, sheepishly handing back the device. Pablo groaned, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more strongly, head spinning and stomach churning at the thought of getting scolded by you. But something in him also burned at the idea of you getting worried about him when you weren't being paid for it.

"Alright boys, let's head out so Romeo can get back to the castle on time." Pedri ushered the three tipsy boys to the car, Ansu and Ale hunched over and giggling in the back, and Pablo slumped with a cheek pressed up against the passenger window.

"Wait! I just thought of something really important!" Ale practically yelled, leaning against the car in front of his place, Ansu waiting by the door to be let in for their own sleepover and gossip session (which may become a breakfast and gossip session given their current state).

"If the doctor tries to kiss him, will Pablo have to get on his tiptoes?"

The uproar of laughter was so loud it could be categorized as a public disturbance. Ale stood, mind foggy but genuine, watching Pedri clutch both the steering wheel and his ribs. Ansu was worse for wear, falling to his knees and gripping the sidewalk for dear life, all while Pablo gripped his head in pain and embarrassment.

"Ale, please, please open the door. I'm going to piss myself laughing from the mental image. Please, Ale."

"I'm actually taller than she is, just for everyone's information." The rebuttal was coupled with crossed arms and a pout.

"With or without shoes?" Ale's follow-up question set off another round of rambunctious laughter. Pablo was now properly tipsy and overly sensitive, and was ready to go home. Ale finally let go of the coop, preventing Ansu's public urination, and Pedri could finally make his way to Pablo's place. The green vehicle pulled into the driveway, and you followed just minutes later.

"Pedri, I'm worried."

The Canarian stared at the boy beside him. That's still what Pablo was. At his young age, he was bearing the back-breaking pressure of being the best right out of the gate, and soul-crushing weight of being in love. It was more than Pedri knew himself and many of his friends able to withstand. And though he understood the sentiment clearly, he asked anyways.

"What're you worried about?"

Pablo was many thing when he had a few drinks. He was noticeably louder, more vibrant and talkative. His usual shy self loosened up, and he was much more vulnerable. He did whatever he felt like: danced, flirted with women, made bets - anything he could imagine that would make him feel alive before the liquid courage wore off and he was back to silencing the bickering voices in his head.

"I'm worried that I'm going to say something stupid and scare her off."

"Ignore what people say online, hermano. You're not actually that scary." The giggle in return allowed Pedri to breathe a little easier. He tried to push away the twinge of guilt that reminded him he had been the one to pressure Pablo to drink, and he had been the one shoving this relationship forward at a faster pace than the participants may have liked.

"No I mean... even if the 1 in a million occurs and she gives me a chance, what if I come on too strong and kill it instantly? Can you come with me?" The request and the puppy-dog look both worked to catch Pedri off guard.

"Come with you to hang out with your girl?"

"You don't have to sit with us. You can fire up the PS5 and do whatever you want. But I won't tell her I want to grow old with her like the couple in The Notebook if you're in the house."

"You want to live out the plot of The Notebook with the doctora?"

"How did you know that?" Pablo asked with wide eyes, fully convinced that the older had read his mind.

"You just told me! How much alcohol did you actually have?" Pedri was now concerned. Could he not count? Pablo had only had three beers. He didn't remember him being such a lightweight, but it probably would explain a lot.

"Ugh, see! Pedri please, I need you. Just come with me!"

Before Pedri could protest again, a small knock was heard on Pablo's window, causing both the Barca boys to jump slightly.

"Ugh, fine. But only because your gameshock controller has never been thrown into a wall."

As the two stepped out of the car, your nose was instantly assaulted with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Pablo looked at you with a red face and slightly unfocused eyes.

"Doctora! Hey!" As he moved in to give you a hug, you stepped back from him, covering your nose with the sleeve of your (Gavi's) hoodie. You looked harshly at the boys, glare flipping between the two boys.

"I can't believe you asked me to come here while you're wasted. And you! What the hell do you think you're doing driving drunk?" You yelled, and Pedri ran forward to prevent the neighbors from hearing your misconception.

"I'm not drunk! I had one beer and waited more than an hour before driving. Pablo had three beers. We smell like shit because a waitress spilled a tray full of shots at the table. Let's continue arguing inside."

You looked at them skeptically, trying to find a smidge of deceit in either of their faces. Pablo approached you and draped an arm around your shoulder. Pressed up against you, it seemed like the smell of liquor dissipated, replaced by the last traces of his cologne and his own signature scent. Leaning down slightly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your nervous system.

"Come on, Doctora. You know I'd never lie to you. Come inside now. I need to get in the shower."

Speechless and wide-eyed, you were helpless to do anything but nod your head and be lead back inside the house that you had come to know so well.

~

"I'm going to get in the shower. I think it will help me sober up a bit. And help me stop smelling like Kettle One."

"Oh."

"Don't seem so disappointed, Doctora. I'll only be gone for five minutes. You can wait for me on the balcony; you won't even miss me. Or if you really can't be without me for a single moment, I have a very large shower."

You had stared at Gavi in shock for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to process how he was being so... unadulterated with you. It reminded you of that very first night in the club, when he had stared you up and down and commended Angel on his ability to pick girls.

"Wait you have a balcony?"

That's what lead to your current situation: sitting with your knees pressed to your chest, breathing in the early April Catalan air, and staring at the beautiful view from the window. The street was illuminated in a soft yellow glow, people roaming with hands held and laughs exchanged. The moon was full, shining its beauty down onto the street, painting everything a soft silver color that contrasted with the hazes of gold. It was one of those moments you wish you could trap between plates of glass and visit at a moment's notice. One of those moments that reminded you how far you had come. That dream, that life you had worked, cried, and prayed for - you were in it right now.

The glass door slid open behind you, ending the trance as Pablo stepped out with more blankets over one arm and two mugs in hand. You took them from him, hands warmed as he draped a blue and red blanket (his favorite, unbeknownst to you) around your shoulders. He wrapped himself in a pale yellow one and took his seat next to you, legs also by his chest as he retrieved his steaming mug. Taking a sip, the thick liquid coated your tongue, sweet and rich and reminiscent of childhood.

"So you can't even boil an egg correctly, but you know how to make perfect Chocolate Caliente while tipsy? How does that make any sense?"

Turning to you, he took a pause. The wind gently pushed your hair back, allowing the moonlight to fully illuminate your eyes, and his already hazy mind struggled not to just let himself drown in them. He was beginning to sober up, but it was nowhere near how he wanted to be in your presence.

"It was my favorite breakfast as a kid. My dad used to take Aurora and I to have them for breakfast on the weekends. When I came to Barcelona, I didn't really have anyone to take care of me like that anymore, so I learned to make it myself." Pablo hadn't meant for this to be a sad story, but apparently his tone came across as such, demonstrated by your scooching over to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. No matter the cause, he accepted the invitation to lean against you, sharing your body warmth.

"Must've been hard for you, moving here alone." Your voice was far off, as if spoken to a different person and in a different time. Flashes played in your mind of teary goodbyes and security gates, only one of your parents caring enough to drive you to the airport.

"You know what it's like," Pablo responded. "You did the same thing." He wanted to life his head and look at you, but you move first, resting your temple against his, slotting perfectly together like a teacup that had found its saucer.

"Yeah but I was 18. You were what? 11?" Your voice is still heavy with a burden that Pablo can't understand. His parents had gone with him when he first moved - and you knew that. They had only gone back to Sevilla when Gavi, shy and petite little thing that he was (and remains) told them he was fine to stay in the dorm. He had made friends quick and been praised for his football skills quicker. His parents were only two hours away, and visited semi-frequently. Life at La Masia had been Disney Channel-esque. So why did you speak about it with the same somber tone as old war stories?

"I hate that you say 'I was 18' like it was a thousand years ago, Doctora."

Pablo could feel your cheeks form a wide smile, and wrapped an arm loosely around your waist as you leaned deeper into his orbit. Of all the times the two of you had been cuddly, this was quickly becoming his favorite. Because he wasn't holding you like a secret, in the dark of night when all you wanted to do was pass out. He could see you, here in his arms of your own free will, not running away, but rather leaning in. He got to sweep the hair from your eyes, and if he focused hard enough, the dull beat of your helping the tension dissipate from his bones.

It was moments like these when Pablo knew that he was wholly and completely in love. His heart didn't race around you anymore. It wa quite the opposite now: only when he was around you could his heart beat like it was intended. It felt full. Otherwise he was walking around with this tugging in his chest, begging him to drop everything and run to wherever you were. And once he arrived, he would tear the beating organ from his chest for you upon request. It was your property, anyways.

"But I was 18 like a century ago. I'm old and withered now Pablo. What you're doing now is taking care of the elderly."

His laugh in response made him fall forward, burying his head in your lap as you blushed profusely, laughter light and breathy as to not draw attention (or get him to move). His face pressed against one of your thighs, giggling a bit too hard at a very generic joke without a singular care in the world. He leans back slightly and places a kiss to your thigh, so quick and delicate you almost missed it.

"I'll always take care of you, Doctora. As long as you let me."

You couldn't bring yourself to speak at that moment, opting to instead bring a hand up to play with his hair. Gently, you wove your fingers through the locks, softly scratching at his head like the sleepy puppy he resembled in that moment.

Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.

"Remember the first time we met?"

"Vividly." The response came quickly and honestly from you, and you were banking on Pablo's slightly incapacitated state to prevent him mocking you. But it was one of those moments seared into your memory. The lights, the sweat, the deep urge to pull Pablo against you and kiss him until that perfect pout disappeared.

"You didn't think I was 18 then. It was a hard blow to my ego. I didn't want a pretty girl to think of me as a child. But now, I'm glad we met when we did."

Soft music floated in the air towards the balcony, the performers a few streets over finishing off the night with something soft and romantic to tug on the heartstrings of passing couples in hope of separating them from some Euros. Gavi lifted his head, body following shortly as he stood. He held out a hand to help you to your feet as well. "Come and dance with me." Rising, Pablo never released your hand from his, pulling you in as close as possible, keeping you pressed to him with one arm. He began swaying and you followed his lead, now your turn to rest your head on his shoulder and simply enjoy the euphoria of being in his arms. His breath was next to your ear, raising the flesh on your neck with every exhale, before finally saying,

"Because in the future when we're real senior citizens, I get to tell people I've known you my entire adult life."

You faltered slightly, stopping Gavi in his tracks as he met your eyes. God, those eyes. If only you knew the power they had over a certain Sevillano.

"You think I'll still be around when you're an old man?" You asked, trying to stay light and airy and nonchalant as your heart hammered against the confines of your ribcage.

"Of course, Doctora. Where else would you be other than beside me?"

This was it. This was the moment. You were dancing on his balcony in his hoodie as he told you that he never wanted you to leave his side. This was the time to agree, to jump and have those strong arms catch you as you said those three words that could show you the gates of heaven or the depths of hell. You traced shaking fingers down one of his biceps, eyes meeting as with ragged breath you began.

"Pablo..."

The response was the sound of the glass door being shoved open, causing the two of you to jump a foot apart. Pedri stood there, cheeks flushed like when Xavi played him all 120 minutes.

"Pablito!! You had a case of beer in the fridge to reward me for being the DD!" This man was on another planet, bringing you back down to earth.

"You should get him to bed. I need to get going anyways."

"No!" The protest was louder than anticipated, startling both you and Pedri, who had gotten bored of playing sober FIFA and may have over-indulged when Pablo's balcony date with you entered its second hour.

"I mean, I'll get him to bed. You haven't told me your story yet. I would hate for you to leave without finishing the reason why you came. Wait for me on the couch, I'll be five minutes."

There was a pause, almost a reluctance from you to break the strong eye contact. He knew that there was something else you wanted to say. There was always something left unsaid between the two of you. He watched your form disappear down the stairs as he guided Pedri to his room (he didn't want his soon-arriving sister to sleep on dirty sheets). "You have the worst timing imaginable, hermano." Pablo muttered out, blood boiling at how the evening had gone from 200 back down to zero in a matter of seconds. When did he even put a case of beer in the fridge? Neither of you were drinkers. His fridge was always stocked with every delight and craving you had mentioned in passing.

"You told me to make sure you didn't say anything stupid." Pedri responded, making Gavi squint at him in suspicion. He must have not as been as out of it as he let on.

"Yeah but I think she- nevermind. Go to sleep."

"Calm down Pablito. It's not like I interrupted your first kiss."

Forcing himself to take a deep, self-soothing breath, Pablo turned from his inebriated friend and shut the door.

Making your way to the living room, you once again filled your senses with the boyish football decor of the living room. Checking to make sure he wasn't coming down the stairs, you sped over to the front door. The pictures on the wall remained as they were previously: childhood, family, football. Your heart sank slightly at the thought of your Christmas present sitting ripped and crumpled at the bottom of his club-issued backpack. You turned back into the living room, making your way to the couch.

Flopping on the soft material, you kicked your feet up on the table, glancing over to look at his obnoxiously large Barca book. And there, sitting on top of it, was a simple black frame, slightly dented in one corner like it had been dropped. The frame held the two of you, angry and standoffish and forever frozen in that moment before the floodgates had been irreversibly opened. He had framed it. Pablo Gavi, the busiest boy in football right now, had decided you were worth the frame and the position front and center on his favorite book.

"So, what was so groundbreaking you needed to see my reaction in person?" His question snapped you out of your trance, and you sprung up from your place on the sofa, needing to get the photo out of your field of vision for your own sanity. Making a B-line to the fridge, the cold was inviting to your flushed face. Fruit, bread, cheese, cold cuts - no Spanish boys here. Just the comfort of food.

"Do you want a sandwich?"

~

"There's no way you said that to her! Who are you and what have you done with the Doctora I know?" Despite his reprimand, the beautiful boy before you joined in the fits of giggles that had taken over you. Having deprived yourself of a decent meal for the last week due to work (they had finally handed over all of Antonio's medical notes and they were in shambles), you fixed yourself and Pablo the most impressive sandwich you had ever conjured in your adult life. After filling his arms with every possible accompaniment, he plopped himself beside you on the couch, crossing his legs so his knee rested against yours. Before he got comfortable, he jumped up, stating he had forgotten something.

"I got these for you." The jar he placed on the table was filled with green liquid, and as you leaned in closer to inspect the label, your eyes lit up.

"You... bought me a jar of pickles?"

"Yeah. Remember one time you said you liked them so I got these. They look like the same jar." That's when you let yourself burst into tears.

The hour following had been you and Pablo in various states: his arm around you as you cried into his shoulder about how shit the people in your life had been, then hunched over plates stuffing your faces and joking around, and finally the current one of eating pickles and chips and whatever else was on the table as you recounted your demonic phone call.

"I did but like I've wanted to say it to her for months now! You don't understand, Pablo, because you're friends with the amazing, caring, thoughtful being that is me." More giggles as he shoved a pillow into you, smile so bright it could light up the entire first floor. He was never afraid to be like this around you: silly and playful and just comfortable.

"La la Doctora, ladies shouldn't use such foul language." It was your turn to shove his shoulder, probably causing you more damage than him due to the rock-solid muscle.

"Thanks papa, appreciate the advice. But like seriously, she asked me to drive her to Madrid one weekend - as in like Madrid five hours away - to go to a specific store. You know what she bought there? Buttons. 10 hours of my life and a hell of a lot of gas so she could get buttons! And it's not like I expected anything in return-"

"No of course not. It's just when you do nice things for people and are kind to them, you want them to act the same. Treat others how you want to be treated." Pablo bit his tongue there, scared he would sound immature or stupid. You were several years his senior in age and education, and the last thing he wanted was for you to water-down your feelings because you thought he wouldn't understand.

"Right?! See, you get it! And I just, ugh, I feel kinda bad because like she didn't really do anything directly. Like yeah her show and stuff but there wasn't really a moment or like a fallout." You moved towards Pablo, leaning on his shoulder as the moment took a more serious turn.

"But that's the whole point isn't it? That she didn't do anything, she was just kind of there and reaping all the benefits of friendship with no effort. And-"

"Doctora, can I interrupt you for a minute?" You felt Pablo's shoulder dip slightly, and disappointed as you were, took the sign to lift your head.

"Sorry I didn't mean to take over your personal sp-"

"Ay shut up about my personal space. I'd handcuff you to me if I had the chance." He quickly looked away from you, processing his comment after he had said it. Nice one Gavito - real friendly. He moved some of the cushions to the end of the couch by the arm rest, kicking off the more decorative ones and leaning down. Honey eyes looked at you between thick lashes, and patted the narrow sliver of space beside him. Rolling his eyes at the confused raising of your brow, he verbalized his request.

"Come lay next to me while you rant."

Oh. Oh. Had he ever asked you outright to cuddle with him? The first time, you had been the instigator. You had taken that leap off the bridge - no, the cliff - and yet there he had been, warm and welcoming, catching you with grace. Ever since then, there had really been no words. Talking about his desires and feelings didn't come naturally to Pablo, and so he steered clear of them all together. It was always something unspoken: he would be at your apartment and just follow you down the hall when you declared it to be bedtime. Or when you had spent too much time at the Gavira house watching reruns of the same telenovela, and Gavi just switched the TV off and guided you up the stairs. No matter the location it was always the same. Him on the right side, you on the left, but both magnetically drawn to the center and one another. You slotted into his side, head on his heart, and stabilized by his embrace. Sometimes he wore a shirt - most times he didn't. He hugged you a little closer whenever you were in his clothing, trying to dispense his scent onto it anew and make sure you would think of him whenever there was a breeze. But there were never words. Only feelings and longing gazes and that same settled silence.

"You want me to?"

"Why would I ask if I didn't want you to? Last time you fell asleep on my shoulder you almost broke your neck. Now if you fall asleep you will only be semi-sore in the morning. I mean you don't have to if you-"

"No. I mean yes. I mean no I don't not want to do that."

"Is your Spanish getting worse or did that make no sense?"

You sighed in defeat, laying beside Pablo on the couch, sinking into the fabric and into him. One of his arms was acting as your pillow, and his hand made its way upwards to softly play with your hair, an instant soother. Body turning inwards toward him, your arms were up and palms gently pressed to his chest.

"Am I too close?" You asked, Pablo's previous comment about wanting to be physically attached to you seemed to have evaporated from your mind. His second arm fell around your waist, pulling you closer in. Your thigh was now pressed between his legs, and you both seemed to hold your breath for a moment. The alarms went off in his brain while his eyes held yours. He just stared at you. That's all he ever really wanted to do nowadays. He unfroze and shook his head before prompting you to continue your story.

"Oh, right - where was I?"

"She never put any effort into the relationship."

"Oh, right." You sat up to grab one of the blankets, draping the warmth on the tangled mess of limbs, and laying back down. It was not lost on you that Pablo, despite all the jokes, had listened intently to every word you had said. Nothing Pablo did, from the way he shifted his misaligned hips to his soft breathing to the way his fingers traced shapes in your side, was ever lost on you.

"So..." and on continued your rant for about an hour. It was a different kind of catharsis to speak about your pain and receive empathy in response. To be told that the feelings poisoning your spirit were ones that had been planted and could be weeded out. It was a relief that also brought about a tiredness, where once your emotions were freed, your eyelids grew substantially heavier. But the fingers remained soothing against your hair, twisting and smoothing the locks. He pushed a few stray pieces from your face, smiling at the sleepy state on your face.

"Excited for this last month of the season?" The short international break had allowed for the season to be neatly wrapped up by the first week of May, with the Champions League final and awards ceremonies following directly after.

"Mhm," you hummed back, eyes now fully closed and cheek pressed against Pablo's warm skin. "But it's not really a month for me. It's more like a week left of the season. Copa Del Rey in three days, then you score a screamer in the net at home to win La Liga three days later. Once the season is decided, I'm back at school for practical exams." The vibration in his chest reverberated throughout your entire being, and your semi-sleeping form nuzzled deeper into Pablo, which neither of you thought possible. Fingers tightened around the semi-exposed skin of your waist, and he felt a sensation akin to weilding fire at will. Knowing full well the flames could engulf him in a torturous inferno, but oh how beautiful to hold and let dance at the tips of his fingers.

"So we have two more matches with you?"

"Three if you choke again and let the other borderline relegation team score three goals." He tugged lightly at your hair as a reprimand, your smile spreading against his neck.

"I wasn't even on the field for the full 90 minutes last game. Don't worry, we're bringing home both trophies this week. And you're getting that screamer of a goal. Make sure to record it so I can gloat forever." A gentle nod and a hum, but the sleep was slowly seeping into your senses.

"So after that, what? What's next?"

"Well you already know that Xavi offered me a permanent position for when I graduate next year. So I'm at the club on automatic placement renewal. He he I was the first one in my class to get it."

"Of course you were, Doctora. You're the best there is." Warm cheeks yet again. Pablo must think you're a natural furnace, not realizing that his sticky sweet compliments were always triggering the "Heart Overheating" alarms in your mind.

"You think too highly of me. I'll see you when you come back for preseason medicals and training. They might let me run it this year. Oh, and at the Bondor. I'll be there, too."

"At the what?"

"The Bondor." You repeated, unaware of how much you were mumbling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Slow down for me, Doctora. One word at a time. Where will I see you?"

"Ballon. D'or." You repeated for the third time as slowly as possible. It was too hard to stay awake now, and let yourself slip fully into the depth of relaxation, tangled in a web of warm Pablo, basking in this moment where you could just rest contently.

Pablo on the other hand was now on high alert. There had been a lot of commotion in the club when the nominations were announced. Pedri had pulled up the livestream on the projector, the entire squad waiting with baited breath for the categories of interest. There mutters all around about how the whole ceremony was a scam and had royally screwed over Robert, but who was going to turn down the honor? You had seen the stampede (led of course by Luca, who was always at the head of any effort to get out of doing his job) and followed quickly, afraid someone else had passed out. The players had been pushing themselves to stay miles above Madrid in the league, and it was taking a real toll. You looked up at the ceiling as you speed-walked, praying that everyone (especially Dembele) was okay. You would really like a calm week.

"Now, the nominees for the Kopa Trophy, awarded to the best player under 21 years of age..."

Ansu caught your eye as you entered and waived you over, instructing you to sit with him and the other young Barca boys. Gavi had been given a seat in the middle, the throne of the meeting room, as the murmurs circulated once again. You hadn't been aware that Pablo was a contender for this award - not surprised, but your schedule didn't allow you to keep on on Twitter as you once had. You wrung your fingers, heart hammering as the presenter spoke with that slow TV drawl that made everyone want to commit arson.

"Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Bukayo Saka, Eduardo Camavinga, Gavi-"

You were sure there were other nominees, but the shouts of joy and thunderous claps on Gavi's shoulders prevented any more information from entering your ears. The coaching staff and older players commended him on the achievement, and you had to wait until the room was essentially cleared to stick out your hand and offer a congratulatory message.

"Are we doing handshakes now?" He asked, eyes flitting between you and Pedri's gossip circle occupying the far corner.

"It feels more professional. This is a professional achievement after all."

""I haven't achieved anything yet." He said shaking your hand firmly and lingering much longer than was appropriate for the workplace (and 'friends').

"What are you talking about? You've been nominated! That's huge in itself given that a lot of your teammates also qualify for that award."

"Yeah but Pedri snatched it last year. They won't hand it over to the same club two years in a row."

"Doesn't Messi have like 27 Ballon D'ors in a row?"

"Please don't use Leo as an example. I am just a regular human being." As the two of you made your way into the hall, out of the line of sight of Pedri's tea spilling team, the laughter and teasing died down. You turned to Pablo, bringing one hand to rest on his arm, smoothing the fabric of his training jacket with your fingers as you looked up at him.

"You're a brilliant player, Pablo. One of the best this club has ever seen. You are incredible and have the brightest future ahead of you, and I just hope I get to be a part of it. That award it yours - I can feel it. But even if it isn't, don't sell yourself short. You amaze me every day."

This was the best news since his promotion to the first team. He had been pushing the Paris trip to the far recesses of his brain, a bout of nausea and anxiety striking him every time he conjured the thought of walking down that carpet or speaking on stage. But now you were going to be there. You would see him in the finest suit D&G would lend him, hair perfectly gelled down (he would need a trim). And he let himself ever so briefly entertain the fantasy of you watching him win. Of the announcer calling out his name, the crowd rising to their feet in deafening applause as he accepted the trophy from Pedri. He would look out into the crowd and see you there, sending a wink your way before thanking everyone who helped him achieve this, especially the medical staff. He drifted off to sleep replaying this scenario in his head, a trophy in one arm and the girl of his dreams in the other.

Pedri woke up with a minor headache in the morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows directly into his eyes. He would be buying Pablo some blackout curtains for Christmas. Descending from his place, he walked across it: a real sight to behold. You and Gavi were tangled together on the couch, legs an absolute mess with the blanket pooled around them. Your head was on his chest, face nuzzled upward into his neck. Your hands were fisting his shirt, as if afraid someone would rip him from your clutches. Pablo wasn't much better. He had his arms wrapped around you, one on the back of your head and one around your waist. He had managed to pull you on top of him in the night, his back flat on the sofa and your weight pooled on his chest and bringing him tranquility. His lips rested against your forehead, his face perfectly positioned with yours. He held you tight against him, and your unconscious form rose and fell with each of his deep and even breaths. Despite his best efforts, Pedri couldn't stop himself from snapping a picture of the moment. Thank God his ringer was always off. He did have enough self restraint to prevent him from sharing the photo with his group chat with Ansu, Ale, Eric, and surprisingly Robert (he just likes to be included). The name had changed numerous times in the last several months, and was now simply called "friendship" my ass for obvious reasons. He knew this would be a picture Pablo and you would look back on fondly when one was finally courageous enough to just let go. But until then, it sat safely in his hidden folder, and he tiptoed out the door, sparing one last look at the pair of you, sleeping more deeply than well-fed toddlers. The tension in Pablo's face was gone. Pedri hoped it would stay that way.

~

"And we are just minutes from kicking off what could be the league-winning match for Barcelona here in Spotify Camp Nou! Set to be an exciting game against Atletico Madrid, and the crowd is absolutely on fire."

"Just as well, Peter. I mean Barcelona have the ability to make this an incredible three trophy season right here today. They're coming off a massive win against Sevilla in the Copa Del Rey final, at home for what could be the league winner, and the performances we're going to see today are going to be full energy full power now that the Ballon D'Or nominee list has been announced."

"That's right we have Robert Lewandowski shortlisted for the titular award after two incredible seasons at Bayern Munich. We also have Pedri potentially passing the 'Golden Boy' torch onto his fellow midfielder Gavi, who has had an absolutely stellar season."

"Who can forget about that performance in the Supercopa, Peter. Three goal contributions in a Classico no less, the likes of which we haven't seen since Leo Messi stepped up to the plate, and we all know how that played out. He's really been putting in amazing performances week after week, and the most surprising thing is the level of health Barca have been able to maintain. For a team riddled with injuries all of last season, it is a miracle turnaround. Kick off right here after the break."

The tunnel was always busy right before kick off, but today it was quadruple-fold. You weren't sure if Barca was just extra confident in a victory today, but the media passes had tripled, and everyone was eager to get candids of the young blaugrana boys. You were pushing through people's shoulders, 'excuse-me' shifting very quickly into 'get out of the way' as you made your way to the players line up to adjust resistance tape and back braces. You were in the official physio uniform today, Nike jacket hugging your skin and tucked neatly into your trousers. The entire staff had been gifted with a new pair of cleats with the date on one side and a number of their choice on the other.

"I'm assuming 6 for you?" You had been caught off guard by the assumption from the brand rep.

"Why would you assume that? Have other players been telling you things about me?" You must have looked genuinely afraid and shocked, as the rep raised his hands in innocence, face going pale.

"No no no. I have absolutely no idea who you are. You have a 6 on your hoodie, so I thought you would want something to match."

It was discreet, a small black number on the back of your heel, and yet it was the only thing that Gavi could see as you worked to adjust Frenkie's shoulder. Did all of you have numbers? Were they in order, yours just happening to fall in the 6th position? Were there even 6 people on the physio team? His eyes stayed on your shoes until they were in front of his. He looked up to meet you raised brow.

"Why are you staring? Your shoes are nicer than mine."

Turning around, he let you test his hip alignment as he allowed himself to speak away the nerves buzzing throughout his system.

"Think we're going to win?"

"I always think you're going to win. I'm just waiting for that incredible goal you promised last week."

"What, the three goal contributions in the Supercopa weren't enough for you? You have high standards, Doctora."

"Of course. That was back in January. It's April now, Pablo. I want you to make my last game good." As you released him from your grip, he turned to face you, putting both hands on your shoulders. A few players turned their heads, but only for a cursory glance.

"If I score today, you let me pick you up as a celebration."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Who's going to stop me?"

"One of your fangirls might dive onto the field and tackle me."

"I have faith in you, Doctora. You seem like a fast runner."

"Always nice to have your unwavering support. Deal. Better be a good goal."

"A screamer."

You moved onto Pedri, who was next in the numerical line up, and his eyebrows did all the talking for him. You muttered a quick 'good luck' before continuing your duties in the remaining minutes before they walked out for the match.

"What a friendly little deal you've made, hermano." He leaned over and said, but the players began walking before Pablo could respond. Post -anthem, you took your place on the sidelines, jittery from the electric energy ricocheting around the stadium. No Joao for Gavi to shove around, but Griezmann was going to be a problem. The first half was rough and fast-paced, but remained scoreless. As the players came off for half time, you were instructed to help out the ones with high muscle tension. Passing Pablo, you placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear, quick and soft: "Looks like I'm staying seated all game."

Pablo turned just in time to watch you scamper off, a smirk on his lips. Pablo loved a challenge, and it was all the better to have it come from you. He had a couple opportunities during the first half, but he was scared of getting fouled too early on. Now was the time were he was able to push, with the anxiety from the beginning of the game shaken off. He tuned back into Xavi's pep talk and instructions for the second half, lips still upturned.

The media was always puffing up players, but it was true that Pedri was a magician with the ball. There was something captivating about the way he calmly danced between players, maneuvering skillfully. A pass to Araujo, then back to him. The roar of the crowd was dulled by the thrum of your heart and the snapping as you bit at your nails in anticipation. The boys had been pressing hard, and a score seemed eminent. Pedri lifted his head, looking for his striker. Lewa was locked up on the right. It seemed the moment to move back, alleviate the press and recalculate. But then a flash of blue and red streaked across his vision and his foot reacted faster than his brain. Minute 85, a scoreless game, and a ball crossed high and fast towards the menace that was Gavi. His foot connected in the far left corner of the box and there it went, screaming past the goalie's fingertips before nestling in the top corner of the net.

An explosion. You were the slowest person to react, slack jawed as the other physios shoved and shook you in celebration. Hands coming to his chest, he gripped the crest like it was a crown jewel, looking right as you as he brought it to his lips, kissing it with a force and passion that had flowed in him since he was 11 years old. He ran towards you, teammates following swiftly, and suddenly there were arms around your thighs as he lifted you. He bounced you in the air as his teammates clapped him on the shoulders, congratulating him and showering him with the well-deserved praise. You looked down, hands rested on Pablo's shoulders. His gaze was locked with yours. you wanted to tease him or commend him but there were no words. He released you, pointing at ou before taking his position.

They lifted the trophy shortly after, the players looking like children as they danced and sang in a circle. The players all took their turns squeezing the living daylights out of you.

"Doctora!" It was Dembele who called out to you, waving you over. Under the watchful eyes of his coaches, Gavi was more careful not to get too close to you (even though he had just Lion-King lifted you during the game).

"Come take a picture with all your patients and their trophy!" The request was made with laughs all around as you stood behind the trophy, Ousmane on one arm and Pedri on the other. Balde and Ansu got into the photo as well, arms all around each other.

"Gavi! Get in here! You're the one with the most clinic hours." Ousmane called out to him as well. He blushed as he walked (waddled) over, stopping to pick up the trophy and dropping it into your hands.

"This is your achievement too, Doctora. You should be proud." Pedri shoved him in beside you, claiming it helped 'balance the photo'. The flash went off twice. Once with Pablo paying attention to the camera, smiling brightly having just won MOTM in their league decider. The second was almost identical, but his head was turned to you. The smile was softer, the eyes kinder. He looked at you like the ultimate prize. As he said his goodbyes to you, promising not to miss you too much in the month you would be seperated, he realized one thing: he was going to need more frames.

~

@gaviraconcubine: ok i thot it was stupid but maybe gavi is actually w his physio???? just look at them

1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies

@blaugranaboy: if you FEMALES knew anything, you would know barca has had shit physios and is always getting injured. since she came on staff they staying healthy. i would pick her ass up to

@barbiebalde: @blaugranaboy *too. Sexist AND bad english? pick a struggle

@88rizzing: ok but theres also pics of her out with pedri at a prada store so idk anymore???????

@gavitaylorsversion: her instagram is private :( can someone drop clearer pictures of her

You had been through some difficult situations in the last ten months, but these practical exams were the biggest challenge you had faced in your existence. 8am to 8pm lectures for two weeks, followed by a week straight of performing concussion protocols, lifting stiff boards, and demonstrating a whopping 6 different types of sutures had finally come to an end. It was May 5th, the final day of your exams, and three days before your flight to Paris for the ceremony. Your phone had been discarded for practically the entirety of the month, logged out of all social media and having your focus set to only let through emergency calls (and, of course, texts from Pablo). They had been less frequent given his understanding of your schedule.

[Pablito]: i know you have stitches today. Good luck <3

[Pablito]: Kounde asked about you today. He hasn't realized you've been missing the last two weeks. He really isn't on this planet

[Pablito]: the finale of our show came on last night. I recorded it so we can watch it together after your exams.

And now the most recent one had come through:

[Pablito]: Congrats on surviving the epic battle of your practical exams. I sent you dinner. Have a great night!

The doorbell rang in some scary accurate timing, and you graciously accepted the package from the delivery driver. Sitting on your couch to watch any comedic show that would help you decompress. The bag was huge, and seemingly filled to the brim with containers. Pasta, pizza, two types of bread, fried chicken, and three slices of cake (chocolate, cheesecake, and tres leches). There was also a bottle of sugar-free soda, for balance apparently. As you picked up your phone to ask Pablo if you were meant to feed the whole building, another text popped up on your screen.

[Santa Naranja]: Hi! I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the stylist who worked with Pedro for his Prada shoot? I got this number from him. You should yell at him for giving out your number so easily.

[Santa Naranja]: Anyways, I just got the list for the Ballon D'Or ceremony and I saw your name on there. How exciting! My company is styling Barca for the event, and I wanted to reach out personally to see what you would be interested in wearing.

[Santa Naranja]: Because I'm assuming you don't want to be in a suit? But I could be wrong.

You replied instantly, telling her how grateful you were for contacting you. You had been planning on wearing one of your old wedding-guest dresses, not having the time to go pick up something else. The two of you arranged to meet tomorrow at her studio, and you went back to your original mission: snapping a picture and sending it to Gavi.

He opened the message instantly, feeling all warm and fuzzy staring at the food spread on your lap and his old shirt hanging off your shoulders. You hair was up, face bare, and he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss you on the forehead.

[Doctora]: thanks for the food, pablito <3 see u in paris

"Ouch!" He yelled out, taken out of his daydream by a needle shoved into his wrist. "Pedri! Tell your friend to be gentle."

"First of all, we're not friends-"

"We're not?" Pedri asked the stylist, the smoke practically rising from her ears. She glared at him, looking extra menacing with the pins between her teeth.

"No. We're not. You're only allowed to be here if you're silent, remember? And second of all we are tailoring your suit sleeves. You're going to get stabbed if you keep moving your arms! Now hold still. She's still going to be there in 15 minutes for you to gush over."

"How did you know who I was talking to?" Pablo asked, genuine shock and curiosity across his features.

"Oh please, for the love of God, don't tell me you think you're being subtle?!"

~

"Hi! Come in come in! I didn't even realize it was raining."

Santa Naranja was, as you had recently discovered, not just Pedri's stylist. She wasn't even a Prada stylist. She was now a senior assistant stylist for Style Di Fortuna, a global firm that worked to style celebrities for different events. Since Herno and D&G started dressing the club, management had received official notice regarding their event attire.

"You should have seen the letter they sent. It was like a scolding from the school principal. 'Players must be formally and professionally styled during all official events as to avoid conflict in brand image and the tarnishing of the brand's respectability. Can you imagine dressing so poorly that you could ruin the reputation of an entire brand? Although I shouldn't expect any less. Pedro's jorts could bring about doomsday."

It was the other girls in the office that had given her the nickname 'Santa' for her saint-like patience in dealing with Pedri for... reasons. She was a completely different person when his cheshire cat smile and bushy brows were not in the room. She was calm and fun and humorous. She scurried around the workshop, pouring you a cup of cinnamon tea loaded with sugar, before running back into a warehouse closet and throwing about twenty garment bags over her arms.

"Did you have anything in mind for your look? I know that the club must have given you some basic guidelines, but what about your personal style?"

"Oh yeah, they came with the invitation. Long skirt, no slit, no trains, no plunging necklines, no open backs, no beading or gems, no appliques, and no bright colors."

The poor stylist stopped in her tracks, returning virtually every dress she had in her hands.

"Okay, let's go to the nun section of the closet. What colors would you like? Keep them boring and muted." You giggled at the remark, rattling off a list of colors. She either hummed in agreement or gave a slight pause, allowing you time to retract the wrong choice. Green, red, and white were all off the table, seeing as the wags had already claimed them.

"What's Gavi's favorite color?" She teased, shoving a garment bag at you and ushering you behind the separator to change.

"Haha, very funny. I'm not going as his date."

"You can add the 'unfortunately' to the end of that. I won't judge you."

"Sure. It's unfortunate I'm not Pablo's date in the same way it's unfortunate that you're not Pedri's."

"Please don't speak such wicked thoughts about me and Pedro into the universe."

After cycling through about 15 dresses, the weight of the event and the pressure of traveling in two days was beginning to weigh on you, a tightness settling into your chest and disrupting your breathing.

"I'm going to look so stupid at this event. Nothing looks good." You huffed as you resisted the urge to face plant into the million euro pile of fabric on the floor. Your companion huffed as well, racking her brain for any guidance on how to dress you without making you look like a churchly sister or a plastic bag.

"Okay. Do you know anything about fashion?" She asked. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a kindergarten teacher asking a poor 6-year old if they knew how to tie their shoes.

"I try and keep up."

"If you could pick any look from the last like 10 years on the runway that you would wear to this event, what would it be?"

"I can't afford-"

"Not telling you to buy it. Just imagine. If you could wish a dress into your hands right now, what would it be?"

You sat and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since you separated yourself from the imposed masculine nature of your job. Your hair stayed up, your nails stayed short, your face always painted naturally (you had gotten dress-coded for winged eyeliner once). It had been years if not a complete decade since you allowed your thoughts to be pink and flowery. You had put girlhood on pause, allowed it to hibernate for the harsh winter war of professional success. But now it was spring, and the blossoms emerged once again. You weren't a physio going for a meeting. You were a princess preparing for her magical night in Paris, your fairy standing before you. This was one of those moments where you just had to take a pause. You had worked to hard to make it here. Now that you were here, enjoy it.

"Well, Viktor and Rolf had the most gorgeous tulle dresses ad fashion week. They were all strapless and tight at the top, and they had these beautiful full skirts and velvet ribbons. If I was a wag or a footballer accepting my own award, I would wear that." You said, still allowing the rose color of your imagination to tint your reality. You entertained the thought briefly that this is the first time Pablo would see you properly dolled up, and it made you want to squeal and kick your feet like a girl waiting for prom.

"Oh my God you're so smart!" She yelled, running back into the dark passage of the closet. She returned a moment later with a black fabric bag, gold filigree embossed onto the material. She hung and began to unzip, unveiling the most beautiful dress you had ever seen in your life. It was a pale nude, almost the color of beach sand, with a fitted corset top that came down to the top of the hip bone. It then flares slightly into a layered tulle skirt, the color solid except for one band of pale blue that wrapped around the skirt, the waist accentuated with a velvet bow in the same dusty blue. You reached out one shaking hand to smooth down the fabric, almost afraid it would disintegrate in your touch. (dress inspo for those interested)

"Bouguessa just sent us this. It's more subtle than the Viktor and Rolf ones, it goes with gold and silver jewelry, won't draw too much attention, and follows that ridiculous novel of rules." She said, hands on her hips behind you.

"I can't wear this." You said, trembling at the very thought of spilling a drop of... well anything really on this dress.

"You can and you will. We had it shorted for some actress wearing it in Cannes later this month, so wear nice shoes. Nothing too tall though - Pablo is 5'7 after all." You turned to her, and the face she had expected to smile back at her held eyes welling with tears. You pulled her against you, too fast for her to process, and let the tears stream down your cheeks.

"I have never had anyone be so kind to me. I can't thank you enough."

"I'm just letting you borrow a dress," she said, arms wrapping around you as well. "Do you not have friends?"

"Let's not open that can of worms."

~

"Hi, Dr. Gonzalez. You wanted to see me?" Your head peaked in ever so slightly to catch his hand waving you over. Despite knowing on a deep psychological level that he respected you as a professional, he still scared the bejeezus out of you.

"Yes. I forgot to give you your passes for tonight's flight. You'll be able to use this to get directly into the lounge and then on the jet we have chartered this evening."

"The... what?"

"How were planning on getting to Paris exactly, Miss y/n?" He took off his small glasses, a gesture to emphasize how stupid you were being at the present.

"I was going to take the train in tomorrow?" You responded extremely unsure of yourself.

"Take the train in the morning of the ceremony? Oh this generation. No foresight. You'll meet the team in the lounge at exactly 8pm this evening."

"So what I'm hearing is... I'm going on the private jet with Xavi and the squad?"

"Yes."

"And my accomodation..?"

"You will have a room in the hotel on the same floor as the rest of the team. Any other logistical questions? Do I need to explain what the Ballon D'Or is?"

"No, no, of course not. Thank you so much Dr. Gonzalez. I'll be sure to represent Barca well as an organization that loves women!" You got up hastily from your chair, exiting the office with Dr. Gonzalez yelling behind you.

"We didn't send you because you're a woman! Don't say that to any reporters!"

The Barcelona airport was, in your opinion, nothing special. That was until the woman at the check-in desk saw your badge and personally guided you past security and into a private Air France lounge. The room was decked out in plush sofas and chaise lounges, soft spa music bouncing between the walls. Enough food to feed the entire terminal had been laid out on stone and marble platters, and three girls in matching dark blue uniforms strolled around the room, waiting to be flagged down for assistance. This was nice. Maybe gold digging was really the best choice. It's a miracle that not everyone on the quad had Ferran-sized heads if this was the treatment they were used to.

"Ay look who finally made it." The voice greeting you belonged to Xavi, who was the first to stand up and embrace you. You greeted the rest of the group and introduced yourself to both Xavi and Robert's wives, thinking it more appropriate to sit with the other women on the trip. You chatted with them until it was time to board, at which point you could no longer exercise self control. You walked up to Pablo, tapping him on the shoulder.

He couldn't suppress his smile when he saw you, and Anna whispered to her husband how you had not introduced yourself as Gavi's girlfriend.

"Well, they're not together. She's a physio at the club."

"He looks at her like he's in love."

"Yeah. Everyone has noticed except the two of them."

Fighting the urge to stuff you into his hoodie so you could never disappear for a month again, Pablo opted to instead put one arm around you, embracing you in a tight side hug. You two walked onto the plane together, effectively abandoning Pedri, while catching up on everything that had gone on since your last meeting. He sat beside you on one of the couches, spinning around to lay with his legs on top of you, which were swiftly pushed off. The two of you now sat side by side, eating from a bag of sour gummies.

"I missed you." He said softly as you watched Barcelona grow smaller and smaller beneath you. You turned back to him resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. A lot more than I thought I would." There was no more talk after that. No mention of feelings or trophies or anything really. Just sour bears and that telenovela finale he promised to watch with you.

The clock in the hotel lobby read 11:44pm as you fought with Pablo to try and carry your own bag in. Well, fought is a vague term - you tugged on his bicep while he dragged you and your suitcase inside.

"We're only here for two days - what on Earth could you have brought?" He asked, letting out an exaggerated huff as he set it down on its wheels.

"Makeup is heavy, my dress is heavy, my shoes are heavy - society's beauty standards are just weighing me down at every turn." He smiled back at you, your fingers itching to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the tip of his nose and tell him that he had a smile that could bring cities to their knees.

"Pedri! Gavi!"

You turned around to the source of the voice, watching Pedri embrace a very tall and very familiar Spaniard. As he made his way over to Gavi, he gave you a once over that indicated his brain was still trying to figure out who you were. As his hand connected with Gavi's, it was like the electricity had switched back on.

"Oh, hey! You came and interviewed at Chelsea. Convince her to stay then, hermanito?" he clapped Gavi on the back of the neck.

"No, I didn't have to say anything. She spent an afternoon with you guys and came running back to the better club." You smiled shyly, feeling a little awkward at your once potential club interacting with the one you had chosen to stay at. You stepped to the side, noticing Perdi deep in conversation with someone else. Tan, tall, and beautiful, he turned to you, smiling wide and approaching.

"Ah hello again." You were in a hug before you knew it. You reciprocated, wishing one of the boys would take a photo so you could send it to ever girl in your high school.

"Joao! Great to see you again. How have you been?" He pulled away, hands still on your upper arms as he ranted to you about his difficult second half of the season had been. Pablo sat back, loosely listening to the exchange between Pedri and Kepa, with most of his energy focused on seething at the sight in front of him. Joao had talked to you for what? An hour? Why did he feel so comfortable touching you like this? His tongue found purchase in his cheek, his arms crossed over his chest. Xavi tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the key cards for your three, giving him a perfect excuse to break up your conversation.

"Here you go, Doctora. This one's yours. Doing well Joao?" There was an obvious hint of animosity in his voice that was evident to the both of you. Nevertheless, Joao released you to shake Gavi's hand.

"I saw you on TV the other day getting picked up by this one. Twitter went crazy speculating about you two dating. You guys.. aren't dating, right?" Joao directed the question to you, now fully turned away from Gavi, whose body temperature had exceeded 100 degrees.

"No, no. We're..." your eyes flashes to him, "just friends".

"I guess anyone would be grateful to have someone like you caring for their wellbeing. A shame that you didn't come over to us for this season. But I may get the privilege if I can get Xavi to place a bid on me." Pablo let out a laugh that was too loud and enthusiastic to be polite. If Joao had been offended, he didn't let it on.

"Oh, Mason is here, too! We're going out with him and his friend Jude for drinks here at the hotel bar. You should come with us! You can come too, Gavi- oh wait, are you even old enough to drink?" The question was punctuated with a smirk, an obvious rebuttal to Gavi's humor at him joining the club.

"I'm flattered but I need to get some rest for tom- wait Jude as in Bellingham?" You asked, eyes wide.

"Of course. Know any other Jude's being nominated?" You heard Gavi breathing loud and heavy beside you, taking this as your cue to call it a night. Before you left, Joao grabbed your wrist, taking a look at your card.

"Floor three. Same as us. Maybe we'll see you around." He hugged you once more as a good night, then headed over to Mason, who waved at the group of you with Jude beside him. You made your way to the elevator with Gavi and felt embarrassed. You hadn't even done anything but be polite, but in some way you felt like you had committed a sin in talking so freely with Joao. Engrossed in thought, your face met Gavi's back as he suddenly stopped in front of a door.

"This is my room. I'll see you tomorrow." You stopped him in his tracks, one hand preventing him from crossing the threshold.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked, voice soft and even, trying to disguise the hurt.

"I- no, of course not, Doctora. Just nervous. Didn't think I'd be seeing my competition tonight." You pulled him into a hug, hands around his waist and your head on his chest with his above it. He let out a shaky breath, and all his fears with them. Joao had invited you out and yet you were still here, in his arms and in front of his door.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Before the 'big show'?" He asked, keeping you against his chest, just for a moment longer.

"Staff aren't allowed on the carpet so I'll see you inside the theater."

"Don't sit next to Joao tomorrow." He said with a slight pout, and you wanted to just pull him down and kiss him so hard he lost consciousness from the lack of air.

"I don't think they'll let me sit next to the players. Not important enough."

"You're going to be one of the most important people in that room. And just, don't sit next to him."

"I won't Pablo."

"Promise?" He said, sticking out his pinky. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your finger around his, bringing your conjoined hands upwards. You twisted them so that your thumb was facing him and vice versa. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the skin of his hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed audibly.

"What are you.. what was that?"

"You have to kiss it to seal the promise."

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, looking at you once more for any objection, before closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles.

"You have soft lips." You said looking between his lips and his hooded eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm two rooms over. Good night, Pablo. Good luck."

He watched you walk down the hall and enter your room, only returning to his when the door clicked shut. He pressed his back to the wood, allowing it to cool the sweat pooling under his hoodie. He was so thankful that he wasn't sharing a room with Pedri, because the feeling of your lips on his skin, soft and plump, had made him so incredibly hard.

~

"We are here live from the red carpet of the annual Ballon D'or ceremony, and the stars of the football world have come out in full force. On the carpet now Xavi Hernandez and his wife Núria, as well as Ballon D'Or contender Robert Lewandowski and his wife, champion in her own right, Anna. These are the veterans of football, and they should be shortly accompanied by the young trailblazers leading the New Era of Barcelona football."

It was three minutes until Gavi was supposed to step onto the carpet, and he was panicking. His breathing was shallow, his collar felt like it was suffocating him, and he was sweating bullets under his suit.

"Pedri, I can't do this." He said, genuine fear swimming in his eyes as he looked to his friend for comfort.

"Yes you can, hermano. All you have to do is walk and smile. Maybe answer some questions. You can absolutely do all of those things."

"What if I make an ass of myself?" He said, hiding behind Pedri as their handler signalled 30 seconds until they walked.

"You are here being told you are one of the best under 21 players in the world, and then you get to walk into the theater and see the best person in the world."

"I do really want to see her in a dress."

"I was talking about Leo Messi." Pedri deadpanned, and Gavi was shoved on the carpet genuinely laughing, a million bulbs flashing to capture his joy. He was here. He was 18 years old and on his way to shake hands with greatness. He was walking the carpet with his best friend in the world in a five thousand euro suit. He thought to his younger self, eleven years old and hiding behind his mother on his first day at La Masia. All the dreams he had were now the blueprint for his reality. Barca first team player? Check. Goal scorer? Check. Trophy winner? Check. Beautiful girl to share every euphoric moment with? Pending.

He took a few steps forward, waiting for Pedri to be photographed before he walked down to the end of the carpet, taking a group photo and heading to the microphones.

"Gavi! You look wonderful this evening. Are you excited for your first ceremony?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's something that I always dreamed about and now that my dream is a reality, I am just trying to enjoy every moment."

"Well you have had an absolutely stellar season playing with the reigning Kopa winner here, Pedri. Is it something you're thankful for, to play with him and to play with Barca?"

He looked over at Pedri, whose eyebrows were wiggling causing his serious demeanor to break.

"I'm absolutely so pleased to work with this guy here. He's just incredible on the field and we work well together. Barca is my lifelong club, and I am grateful to play there, to have them take care of me and keep me healthy." The reporter gave a thumbs up, and the boy stepped to the side to allow Pedri to finish his interview, wanted to have company as he entered the theater.

"Taking care of you and keeping you healthy, hm? Why didn't you just say her full name?"

The theater was glorious, all gold ornaments and plush red velvet, giving it a timeless and glamorous look. He craned his neck, looking around for those familiar eyes and inviting smile that had made his life so much worse and simultaneously so much better.

"Pablo." The voice came from behind him, and when he turned around, the world moved in slow motion. Your dress, pale nude and powder blue, made you look like a Greek deity. You could give the entire Spanish royal family a run for their money with the way the bodice seemed to mold against you, flaring out into a beautiful cascade of material. It ended at the bottom of your ankles, your feet hugged by blue heels, an anklet handing off that Gavi couldn't quite make out. Your jewelry glinted in the lights, the necklaces sitting between your collar bones drawing in the eye to the expanse of your chest and neck, and he had to try so, so hard to tear his eyes from this. He focused on all these details because looking at your face made him go slack-jawed.

Your hair was cascading freely, front pieces twirled away to show off the beauty of your feature. Your makeup was simple - glowing skin with rosy cheeks, black liner framing and highlighting your eyes, and glossy pink lips. Pablo knew nothing about makeup, but he knew for certain that if he got his hands on you, he would destroy whatever you had painted on your lips to make them shine. You batted your long lashes, and smiled shyly as Pedri let out a low whistle.

"Wow, who knew you were hiding all of this? Were you looking for husband tonight? This is the way to get it." He offered a hand, spinning you around so he (or rather Gavi) could get a full look, the blue bow in your hair flowing beautifully.

"You're too sweet, Pedri. I just didn't want to embarrass the club."

"Embarrass?!" They both exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

"You're on track to upstage us. They pay you enough to afford Prada?" Pedri asked again, pointing to your shoes.

"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."

A friend of Pedri's came up to whisk him away to another group, leaving you standing with Pablo.

"So, what do you think, Pablo? Too much?" You were nervous, resisting the urge to clench your dress in your fists and scurry off. You smoothed your clammy palms down the fabric as well.

"Doctora, you know I'm not super smart like you. I don't even know the words I want to tell you right now. So I'll use one I know: you look breathtaking." He practically whispered out the last word, causing your head to snap up, eyes meeting. "I think you might be the prettiest girl in the room right now." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing back his nerves and pride. You were absolutely stunning, and no friendship or professionalism would stop him from letting you know.

"Thank you, Pablo. You have no idea how much that means coming from you." You moved forward, adjusting his bowtie as an usher came to guide him to his seat. You moved to the back with other team staff members, waving to him as he walked off. You were independent and a girlboss and all that, but it felt good to have him think you were pretty.

~

"And the winner is... Gavi."

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clapping so loud it was deafening. Pedri smiled from ear to ear, watching as his friend came up to the stage to take his place as Europe's shining star, their Golden Boy. Gavi had been frozen in his seat for a second before Robert pushed him up, clapping him on the back and congradulating him. As he placed his hands around the trophy, his peripheral vision registered the people moving from their seats, standing and clapping for his success. Pedri was smug in his congratulations, reminding Pablo he never had a doubt he would be handing off this trophy to him. And as Pablo took his place at the podium, the gold statue adorning his side, he saw you. In the third to last row of the theater, you stood, by yourself in a row full of staff, clapping excitedly for his achievement. Your smile was bright, teeth on full display to convey the level of genuine joy you felt in that moment. You almost looked happier than Gavi himself. And as the applause died down and people retook their seats, he watched you sit back down, hands crossed over your chest in pride and admiration. He looked straight at you, a point of comfort in the large crowd, and only then did he allow the unbridled joy of being the very best to fill him.

"Thank you. I am so proud to have achieved this, to have won such a prestigious award in my first full season with Barca's first team. Thank you to my family for standing by me in the good times and the bad, and for believing in me. Thank you to the club, who gave me every opportunity to play and show my skill this season. A huge thanks to my coach and teammates for helping me succeed. And finally, I want to recognize and thank the Barca staff, especially the physio team, for all their hard work this season. I wouldn't be here without their dedication. Once again, thank you very much for the honor. Visca Barca."

All he wanted was to run off the stage into your arms, to ignore the questions about his season and his success, but there would be time later. You, on the other hand, were trying to recover from the shell shock of Pablo recognizing you specifically during his acceptance speech. Your phone buzzed in your lap at a mile a minute, text messages flooding in from friends and family telling you they had watched Gavi's praise of you on TV. You sat in that same shocked state until the ceremony ended.

~

Why on Earth did so many people want to talk to Gavi? Sure, he had just won one of the most important awards in football, but they had already played his highlight reel. What else could they want to know that wasn't on YouTube? He still smiled politely, congratulating Luka and Robert on their awards before he was able to catch a spare moment alone at a far table, Pedri pulling up to his side shortly after, also fatigued from small talk. His trophy was in hand, a little less shiny now that every person who greeted him had asked to hold it, the luster dulled by grease and fingerprints. The two stood in a comfortable silence, exchanging remarks about the room or the guests at the function every once in a while.

"Pablo! There you are!"

He looked up at the sound of your voice, but not nearly fast enough as you came barreling into him, arms thrown around his neck and embracing him so tight he thought he might pass out (not that he was complaining).

"I'm so, so proud of you." You whispered in his ear, squeezing a little tighter before releasing him, smoothing the soft material of his blazer to release the wrinkles you caused with your attack.

"I'm so glad all your hard work had amounted to this, and I hope I'm around to see how amazing you'll be in the future." You said, emotion making your voice crack slightly. There was something about Pablo that convinced you, deep in your soul, that you were two halves meant to come together. He was young, passionate, ambitious - a reflection of yourself. And to watch him succeed? To see him soar to heights previously thought impossible? It was something you wouldn't trade for the world.

Gavi's heartstrings were so tight they were ready to snap. He had prayed to hear so many different things from you, but never realized that this recognition, this pride expressed so freely, would be the most meaningful. This was it. This was the moment. Suit on, trophy in hand, this was the moment to express how much needed you in his life in a different way. How much he needed to keep making you proud.

"Y/N! There you are."

Joao's built arm was wrapped around you, smelling slightly of whiskey and Dior Fahrenheit. The anger vein in Gavi's forehead began to make a reappearance.

"Mason had to see you and introduce you to some of the boys." Mason greeted you as well, and called over his 'friend Jude' to be introduced. Jude Bellingham was an absolute sculpture, holding a glass of God knows what in such an effortless manner, his tie also abandoned in favor of leaving his first two buttons popped.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jude. I've heard about you from this one - thinks you're a medical Godsend." He ended with a wink. Pedri could feel the heat radiating from Gavi's side, and apparently so could Jude, who looked up and offered a wave.

"Congrats, mate. Brilliant speech." He said, raising a glass to help bridge the language barrier. You turned your head, quickly translating the sentiment.

"Oh, you're with them? The super special physio that's gotten praised in his speech? I should've known I was in the presence of greatness." You laughed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

"I'm really nothing special."

"Oh, well, that can't be true. I'll see for myself when I'm in SPain next year." A wink. Pedri grasped Pablo's arm to prevent blows. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some of the boys and the staff from City."

You quickly turned around, finding Gavi and Pedri whispering to one another.

"Pablo! He wants to introduce me to some people. I'll come find you!"

Thirty minutes later, Pablo was at a table with his trophy and a scowl, moping on what should be a happy night. After his second turn around the room, Pedri joined him, hoping to alleviate the burden.

"Hermano, are you-"

"Why would she just go with him? Like, I understand not being able to turn someone away when they're in your face, but to go with him?! Why would she do that?" He asked, sounding more and more small and child-like as he continued.

"She was just networking, hermano. Trying to meet people and make connections."

"Connections. Look what her connections have got her. Other guys coming up to her, trying to flirt in the most obvious ways possible. None of them know her like I do. None of them will ever - can ever - care about her in the way that I do. She needs to realize that no one will ever want to treat her right the way that I long to."

"Maybe you need to realize that it's not always the best guy that will get the girl, but the boldest one."

"What?"

"How many opportunities have you had, hm? To tell her you wanted her, to profess your love, to kiss her in her car or under street lamps or in front of the whole world? But you just stay sitting on the sidelines waiting for her to come to you. You know what's happening during that time? A Joao or a Jude or a Martin is taking the risk of telling her she's amazing, and she's going to accept. She's going to accept love that's less than yours because someone else was willing to give it to her, proudly and confidently. And you'll be sitting next to me, twenty years from now when we're both retired, talking about how the love of your life slipped between your fingers. She's here, right now, and you are still waiting. Either take the shot or let someone else shoot."

A fear shot through Pablo that he had never felt before. The idea of you, right now, falling in love with someone else made the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch you be with a man who thought you were anything less than the entire universe. It was him. Pablo Gavi was the one meant to have you, to hold you, to protect you from every evil and show you every joy. You were his soulmate, and he would move heaven and earth for his lover who was written for him in the stars.

He stood, scurrying to where Jude and the others had congregated. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen y/n?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and free from the terror threatening to consume him. He couldn't see your form anywhere in the ballroom.

"Oh," Kepa was the one to reply as the official Spanish speaker, "she went up to her room a few minutes ago. I think Joao took her up."

Pablo nodded before speed walking towards the door, breaking into a full sprint towards the elevators. Please. Please no. Please not Joao. Please not anyone. The ding when the elevator reached the third floor made his blood ripple, and he speed walked to your door, muttering under his breath.

"Please don't be in love with someone else."

He reached the door of your room, paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he would implode and self-destruct if he didn't do something.

He lifted his fist, took a breath, and knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, you opened the door, still in the perfect shape he saw you before, but now barefoot on the plush carpet of the hotel.

"Pablo?"

He peered over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Please, tell me he's not in there."

"Who, Pablo?"

"Anyone. Please tell me that there is no one in there now waiting on you. Please tell me," he pleaded softly, moving toward you and placing his hands on your shoulder, moving one down to rest right above where your heart beat. "Please tell me there is no one else in here. I have never begged in my life, Doctora, but I'm here now to beg you: tell me who is the one you're reserving a place in your heart for. Because I know, more than I know anything else in this world, that my soul is yours. Everything I could possibly give, I am asking you to take it without a second thought. And I have pretended, for months now, that I don't need you like the very air I'm breathing. But the more I pretend, the more clear it becomes: I have never loved anything as strongly as I love you. It is overwhelming and all consuming the way every heartbeat and breath is just for you. So just tell me how long I will have to wait. Days, months, years - tell me how long it will be until I get to love you, wholly and completely. Until I get to love you as you deserve. Because there is no other choice. There is no moving on. Every angel in heaven knows that I would struggle in vain until my last dying breath trying to get over you."

There were no words. Hell, there was no air. There was only Pablo, breathless and shaking before you, his fragile heart in your hands. Your hands moved to cup his face, and the urge to cry didn't consume you. You pulled him in, lips finally connecting with his, and the electricity that jolted through you could have lit up all of Paris. His lips were slow to react, and as you pulled away he followed, reluctant to stop kissing you in fear he would never start again.

"You, Pablo. My heart is yours. I'm yours. I always have been."

This time it was Pablo who pulled you in, his arms around your waist lifting you into him. He basked in the plump flesh of your lips, the way it felt to hold you in his arms, a million times better than he could have imagined. It was as if your hearts were racing in sync, thumping the same beat that reverberated around the little bubble the two of you were in. You shifted hands from his face to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You had craved this, to be so close and connected with Pablo. The kiss was slow, passionate, the kiss to say 'I have waited for you for so long' and the one in return to say 'I'm here to stay'.

Pedri had gone upstairs to look for Pablo, scared he had committed manslaughter, and found the two of you there, kissing in the hallway, arms enveloping each other and lips locked in a soft and tender embrace. He placed Pablo's trophy (his whole reason for finding him on the ground, turning to leave before stopping and performing his duties as a friend: taking a picture. Maybe he should buy Gavi a whole pack of frames.

You finally pulled away, face flushed and lips pinkish and swollen from the liplock. You kept your arms around Pablo, turning your face to hide in his shoulder. You spotted the golden statue on the floor and smiled as you moved to pick it up, stopped by his strong and unfaltering embrace.

"Your award, Pablo."

"You're my real prize of this evening."

"Ugh how corny." You laughed, finally freeing yourself to go and pick it up. You carried it before turning from Pablo to unlock your room door, timidly standing in the entryway.

"Do... you want to come inside?" You asked, cradling his trophy in your arms.

"Do you want me to come inside?" He asked, heart threatening to break his sternum. He had never thought of going so far so fast.

"I mean if you don't want to-"

"No I want to, preciosa. God I want- but I don't want to make you feel like you have to."

"You're not. I want you Pablo. All of you." You opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Dale, campeon."

~

You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.

"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.

"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.

"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.

"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.

"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.

"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.

"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.

"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.

"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.

"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.

"Pablo it's too good."

"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."

He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.

"Open up, pretty girl."

"Pablo, want you. Want you please."

"I'm right here, baby. All yours."

You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.

"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."

He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.

"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.

"Pablo. I..."

"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.

"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Please don't leave me after we have sex."

He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.

"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.

"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.

"Pablo," you whined.

He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.

"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.

"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.

"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.

"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."

You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.

"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.

"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.

"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.

"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.

"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"

You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.

"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."

"I love you more, Pablo."

"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."

He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.

[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano

~

The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.

"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."

His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.

"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."

There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.

"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."

"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.

"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."

"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."

"I hope you never stop."

~

A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.

*~*Taglist*~*

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[drdemonprince]

When other people say that they do not have enough time to get something done, they (often, if they're quite healthy) mean they are taking into account the time it takes to do the laundry and arrange new pieces of furniture and cook dinner and meet up with friends to see a movie and run to the post office or the hair dresser and take the dog for walks and do the dishes and paint their nails and drive to the store and go to their cousin's wedding and go to the barbecue their friend is throwing on the weekend

they don't winnow their life down to just spending time at the computer, working from when they wake up until they cannot focus their eyes anymore, granola bars, coffee, and bottles of water all around them because of course they did not take time to have lunch or breakfast, only dragging themselves away from work when they are truly too exhausted to do any of it anymore, and then lacking the energy to do much of anything that remains of life but to eat a tiny bit more, sponge themselves off, and go to sleep.

i just saw a video of a fursuiter on their bed, legs kicked back, head propped on their hands, delightedly announcing that after many years of hard work they had finally finished their Master's degree. And some part of me, some sick withered part, thought really? you had time to do a Master's degree while also getting a fursuit done? and going to conventions, presumably? you had time in the day to research fursuit makers, have a sona designed and drawn by someone else (or to draw it yourself), to contact a maker to make a duck tape dummy of yourself, and to have a friend over to help you make it and to cut it off of you, to send it in the mail to the maker, to then get it and make videos? you had time to set up this beautiful bedroom that i see in your video, with a soft pink sham on the bed and LED lights behind your bookshelf and lamps and all kinds of stuffed toys? you had a life? you were out playing, and dancing, and pursuing your hobbies, and you did a master's degree?

because when i was working on my doctorate, there was nothing. three layers of foam on the floor with a fitted sheet over it. a folding card table from aldi that had cost $40 that my grandparents got me. no food in the fridge. no time to even get the internet installed, just stolen wi-fi when my laptop could pick it up. i woke up, got dressed, and slunk into the office. i sat alone in the dark working until my hunger made me furious and i could not write another word. and then i walked to the grocery store, got something to subsist on, went home, ate, kickboxing video, went to sleep. every day. with almost nothing breaking the routine.

and ive gotten better, so much better, but my brain still kind of works that way. i feel like i have to quit my job and stop being a writer if i want to have hobbies. to paint my bedroom. to marinate a meat for longer than fifteen minutes. to get a driver's license again. to take a trip. but i dont want to be like that any more. how do people know when to stop? i feel like i have to give everything my absolute all until there is nothing left or else i have done nothing. i feel that i would have to treat a hobby like a job to get it done. I feel that anything that takes more than two minutes is a huge waste of time i must feel guilty for. i am working on all these things. jesus i have been working on them for years at this point. but because i have been so successful at telling people to do less, i get pulled in. interview. workshop invitation. email. urgent in the subject line. call from my agent. meeting request from my boss. new book idea, better sell it now while my sales figures still look good. recording studio session. deadline. writing. can you talk about this. can you talk about that. tag. email. book idea. deadline. long heartfelt email. still so often i have to take my own damn advice.

and this is why i am getting a fursuit made!! and going to cons! and going to leather and latex events! and making socials that are separate for these things!! i am going to let myself be silly and soft and do frivolous things. i am so sick of what i do to myself, all the pursuit of seeming like a strong mature adult.

[many-shades-of-violence]

dear doctor

✢ content: NSFW, Medical Kink, Doctor-Patient Roleplay, Dom-Sub Dynamics, Glove Kink, improper use of Devil Fruit, Electrostimulation

✢ pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x f! Reader

✢ characters: Law, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, Uni

✢ word count: 7.500

Life on the Polar Tang was delightful to say the least.

With a wonderful crew, a comfortable bed, delicious food, your very own Polar Bear on board, and last but not least, the company of your lover and partner, Trafalgar D. Law, you shouldn't have had much reason to complain. Well, perhaps, except for the fact that you were being pursued by the World Government due to your listed bounty. But apart from that, life was pretty good, especially when compared to the time before you joined the Heart Pirates. And slowly, but surely, you had even found yourself falling in love with none other than your own captain.

At the start of your relationship, Law had warned you that he was preoccupied with his duties, studies, and crew. He made it clear that these responsibilities were just as important as you, and that he would strive to care for them equally. Of course, you understood what you were getting into with a warning like that. Law's focused and determined demeanor was one of the many things that had captivated you, after all. And despite his initial warning, whenever he had to cancel your plans for sudden matters at hand, he always made it up to you in some way.

However, despite all of this, you currently found yourself pondering the state of your relationship. Law was avoiding your touch as if it were made of seastone, and this had been going on for a rough week. It wasn't unusual for you two to go without intimacy over some periods of time, but Law wouldn't even share a proper kiss or allow himself to be held while sleeping, and you knew how important latter was to him, considering the numerous nightmares he had to endure.

At first, you had tried to suppress your hurt over his distant demeanor. However, after enduring a dragging week, you finally reached your breaking point in front of Ikkaku. The poor girl had jokingly inquired about life in paradise, likely intending to check up on you, as you had formed a tight bond with the female crew member, but before you knew it, tears had welled up at the corners of your eyes, streaming down your cheeks within seconds.

Fortunately, Ikkaku responded with genuine sisterly concern, guiding you to a quieter section of the sub-marine where you could be alone. With a gentle hand stroking your back, she hushed you softly as you poured out your frustration from the past few days through tears.

"Shh, it's okay, y/n," Ikkaku whispered, offering you a heartfelt smile in an attempt to console you.

Tears still welling in your eyes, you looked up at her and spoke with a trembling voice, "I just don't know anymore, ´Kaku. He doesn't even talk to me. It's not like we even fought or anything."

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow at your words and let out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh, as much as I respect him, Captain can be so cryptic sometimes," she admitted, rubbing her neck uncomfortably. She then continued, "You sure there's no way you unintentionally upset him?"

Shaking your head, you looked down at the ground, attempting to control the flow of your emotions. Ikkaku seemed to understand your struggle and promptly produced a handkerchief, offering it to you. "Here, you poor thing. Take this."

"Thanks," you mumbled, using the handkerchief to dry your tears and blow your nose, working to steady your breathing. Meanwhile, Ikkaku appeared to be considering various possibilities for your captain's odd behavior. "Maybe we should approach this from a different angle. When did all of this start? Any idea? Take your time if you need."

You nodded in agreement with Ikkaku's suggestion, taking a moment to reflect on the past days and the onset of Law's sudden change in behavior. As you thought back, you shuddered as memories surfaced—countless instances when you had attempted to connect with your raven-haired lover. Each time, he had either brushed you off with something else on his busy mind or directly stated that he wasn't interested in your advances. The sting of hot tears threatened your eyes once more, your lower lip quivering in the face of this defeat, when suddenly, a vivid scene flashed through your mind.

You were immersed in a book as the door to your shared room swung open, announcing the return of none other than your boyfriend. Your gaze lifted from the page you were reading, attempting to remember where you had left off. A smile crept onto your face as you beheld Law's appearance – his dark, tousled hair still damp and droplets of water adorning his skin. He was dressed only in his blue jeans with black spots, the fabric fitting snugly low on his hips. A white cotton towel draped lazily over his right shoulder, partially concealing a fraction of the numerous black tattoos that adorned his tanned, well-defined torso.

A sensation of arousal began to stir within you as he entered the room. The weighty iron door closed behind Law automatically as he ran his fingers through his short hair, his inked fingers deftly arranging the strands. His sharp, yellow eyes met yours, a knowing smirk gracing his weary features. "Like what you see?" he purred, his voice deep and textured.

With an eager nod, you agreed, though you couldn't help but feel a touch embarrassed at being caught gazing at him so intently. "Don´t have to ask twice," you responded. Law casually tossed the towel aside, then crawled onto the bed you both shared. He briefly glanced at the book in your hands before placing it face down, ensuring you could resume reading it later. He sealed this act with a kiss on your temple, his skilled hands tracing the contours of your body.

"Wanna get a feel?" Law's voice rumbled, planting another kiss near your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as he exhaled warm air against your skin. You couldn't help but emit a soft, pleased sound at the feeling of his goatee brushing against you, relishing the delicate scratchiness it provided. Gradually, you shifted your position, now sandwiched between Law's body and the bed. Your gaze met his as you lightly traced one of the many inked lines on his chest. Your voice adopted a sultry tone as you parted your lips, ready to playfully tease your lover. "Right at your disposal, doctor."

For a brief moment, Law didn't react at all. His gaze seemed fixed on what you could only assume was nothingness. Then, with a sudden movement, he excused himself, pressing his hand to his forehead and muttering about being much more tired from the surgery than he had anticipated. He sought refuge under the thick blanket of the bed. While his reaction was a bit surprising, you didn't dwell on it too much. Sudden waves of exhaustion were nothing out of the ordinary when it came to your hardworking boyfriend.

However, as you replayed the scene in your mind, dissecting it frame by frame, a realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. This had to be the exact moment when Law's odd behavior had begun, starting with his turning away from you in a manner that made it impossible for you to snuggle up to him, as was your usual sleeping arrangement.

A surge of understanding flooded over you, and you swiftly turned your head towards Ikkaku, who was now vigorously gesturing in your direction. Yet, her frantic movements weren't directed at you. You turned your head, recognizing a familiar figure – a slender man wearing a Penguin hat.

"Get lost, Penguin!" Ikkaku exclaimed to him, her tone assertive. The young man scratched his cheek sheepishly, clearly caught off guard. "S-Sorry, I heard some sobs, so we—"

Ikkaku cut him off abruptly, her tone curt, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about this. y/n's dealing with some grown-up issues, and it looks like we need some grown-up solutions." She gestured for him to leave immediately, but her eyes widened as if another thought struck her. "Wait, did you say 'we'?"

Penguin nodded, his embarrassment evident. Just then, another familiar face appeared around the corner – none other than the other half of the renowned Heart Pirate duo, Shachi. He greeted you casually, "Sup!" It seemed as if Ikkaku was on the verge of giving up on the whole situation. She brought a hand to her forehead and let out a loud sigh, muttering to herself, "May the gods save me from whatever idiocy is going to come out of this."

In that moment, Penguin knelt in front of you, gently taking the handkerchief from your hand and using it to dab away the traces of tears and mucus you had missed. "There, there, y/n. No need to cry. It's just good old Shachi and Penguin."

Meanwhile, Shachi shot Ikkaku a disapproving look, planting his hands on his hips and gesturing first towards her and then towards you. "A bit of respect for your seniors wouldn't hurt, you know. Anyway, what's going on with them?"

"We're practically the same age, Shachi. And need I remind you of the captain's words? We're all equals, including Bepo," Ikkaku retorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. However, she quickly realized that bringing up the problem at hand might not have been the best choice, as a surprised squeal from Penguin shifted her attention back to you, still teary-eyed.

"Hey, everything's okay, y/n. Whatever's on your mind, we'll find a way to sort it out," Penguin assured you, doing his best to soothe your distress by gently patting away the lingering traces of moisture around your eyes. As you and Penguin tried to calm yourselves, embarrassed by the presence of not only Ikkaku but also two of your boyfriend's closest childhood friends, Penguin unexpectedly placed his hat on your head. The warm fabric cocooned your head snugly.

Eventually, your tears subsided, leaving only occasional silent hiccups in their wake. During this time, Ikkaku reluctantly filled Penguin and Shachi in on your situation, offering them insight into your current state, even if she seemed a bit unwilling to share at first.

Shachi let out a defeated sigh and scratched the back of his head, looking down at you over his tinted glasses. "So, any clue why he's been acting so distant? Captain must have one damn good reason to be giving you the cold shoulder like that, because to put if quite frankly, he got a lot of free time right now." His scarlet red eyes met yours, and you offered a weak nod, sensing his keen interest. "I'm not entirely certain, but I think it all started last week when he returned from his shower...." you mumbled, avoiding his gaze and blushing slightly.

"Oh my god, spare us the details if it happened during your intimate moments. I can live without that kind of insight into Captain," Ikkaku protested, shaking her head vigorously and crossing her arms defensively.

Shachi chuckled at Ikkaku's reaction, revealing his sharp teeth as he retorted, "You know how the saying goes, Ikkaku, the devil's in the details."

You felt a twinge of embarrassment, wishing you hadn't let your guard down so much around the crew. The thought of Law finding out that you had discussed your relationship issues with them made you cringe. But considering your lack of options, you knew you had to proceed.

Penguin's gentle voice brought you back to reality, his blue eyes locking onto yours. "Pay no mind to those two scatterbrains. You don't have to tell us if you're uncomfortable, but if you accidentally stepped on his toes somehow, we might be able to help you sort it out if you open up about it. Shachi and I have plenty of experience with that, believe me." He offered you an encouraging pat on the shoulder, while Shachi and Ikkaku now turned to face Penguin together, hissing in protest, "We're not scatterbrains!"

With a sigh, you gathered your thoughts and began explaining the situation that you believed marked the beginning of this strained dynamic. Just as you finished describing how Law had suddenly turned away, Penguin and Shachi exchanged a knowing glance before focusing back on you. Shachi grinned and chuckled. "Hey, y/n, you don't have to answer, but did you happen to do anything unusual?" You replied in a hoarse voice, "What do you mean?"

Penguin continued Shachi's line of thought. "Like, you know, anything new. Like a pet-name or something?" Both of them watched you intently, and you gave a wide-eyed look, feeling embarrassed as you nodded slightly. Ikkaku let out a dying sound, almost covering her ears with her hands. "Oh my god, do I really want to hear this?"

Shachi's snickering continued as he flashed his teeth, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "No need to explain. If my hunch is right, poor y/n stumbled into the biggest blunder imaginable." Just as Shachi finished his statement, Penguin's neck snapped in your direction, his eyes widening as realization dawned on him. He couldn't help but blurt out the revelation to Ikkaku anyway, his voice too loud for comfort. "Did you call him 'doctor'?!" You winced at the volume of his words, wishing you could disappear into thin air at that moment. Slowly, you nodded, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Ikkaku seemed torn between wanting to join you in your vanishing act and wanting to console you. She spoke up, trying to offer reassurance. "Well, it's not a big deal, right? I mean, it's literally his profession, so it's not like it's something out of the ordinary."

Shachi rolled his eyes at her words. "That's precisely the issue." Ikkaku looked at him, confusion etched on her face. "What do you mean?"

Letting out another sigh, Shachi brought his hand to his forehead and began to explain while gesturing. "Captain might be a pirate, but he still holds onto his professional ethics as a doctor. Not that I think he´s not into this. We all know he´s a perv. But knowing him, he probably struggled with the moral aspect anyhow." Penguin nodded in shared agreement, then laid a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I´m fully with you at your endeavor though. Nothing out of the window on a ship full of medical professionals."

Shachi, looking somewhat shocked, threw his hands up theatrically his mouth wide open. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Taking in all the information, you let out a sigh, a wave of sadness washing over you. You were aware that Law had strong emotional barriers, but if Shachi and Penguin were right, you hadn't realized that he couldn't even communicate his preferences to you openly, even when it was related to his ethical standards. You shivered slightly but composed yourself, gaining the attention of those around you.

"So, what's the plan?" Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, curious about your next steps. For a brief moment, you looked down, clenching your fists before responding. "I suppose I need to talk to Law. I already feel bad for burdening you guys with all of this."

As you looked back up at them, you were met with surprised expressions on Ikkaku's, Shachi's, and Penguin's faces. Color drained from their features, and they all seemed to be staring right behind you. Confused, you turned to see what had captured their attention, and a cold chill ran down your spine as you heard no other than Law's sulky voice.

"Do you now?" His voice rang out, catching you off guard. Ikkaku cried out in surprise, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Shachi quickly joined in with a question, "Captain, what brings you here?!"

You didn´t have to turn around to know that Law was frowning at them. “I could ask you the same to all of you. One moment I´m in my study, the next moment I get informed from Uni that four members of the crew are from their posts without notice.”

You swallowed hard, realizing the predicament you had unintentionally dragged the others into. Not wanting to implicate them further, you turned toward your captain, locking eyes with his stern gaze as you prepared to respond. However, when your gazes met, you found yourself unable to form any words. Each syllable seemed to stick in your dry throat, likely from the aftermath of your recent crying spell.

It didn't take much for Law to piece together the situation. The tear stains on your face, the handkerchief in Penguin's hand, the concerned expressions on Ikkaku and Shachi's faces, and most telling of all, Penguin's hat still resting on your head like a dorn in his eye – it all added up to a clear picture. With a deep sigh and a quick rub of his temple, Law motioned behind him. "Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku. Get back on your positions. Now."

As you felt your crewmates start to scramble behind you, you sensed Law's strong hand on your head, gently yet determinedly removing Penguin's hat from your head and returning it to its owner without a second glance. Just as the other three began to move away, Ikkaku sent you a worried look, Shachi and Penguin giving you reassuring thumbs-up gestures from a distance.

Once they had left, Law stood still for a moment, his full attention on you. You silently reached out to him with your gaze, a question forming in your eyes. "What about me?"

He gave you a brisk look before he turned around. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you. You wanted to talk, right y/n-ya? Then follow me." With a gulp, you gathered your resolve, trailing after Law through the dimly lit corridors of the Polar Tang. The tension hung heavily in the air as you walked, uncertain about what was to follow.

The two of you came to a standstill only a few minutes later. Lost in your thoughts about the impending conversation, your mind already racing with imagined scenarios, you suddenly realized that Law hadn't led you to your shared living quarters but instead to the submarines' operation room. Irritation welled up within you, and you shot him a pointed look as he pushed open the sturdy iron door and held it open for you.

"What? You need a personal invitation?" he remarked with a smug smile, raising one of his dark eyebrows. His behavior only fueled your frustration, aggravating how he could act as though the past week hadn't even occurred.

With a hint of sarcasm, you retorted, "Nah, I just didn't think I had a doctor's appointment today," before slipping past him and entering the dimly lit operating room, the frown on Laws faces evident. You were well aware that your snappy response wouldn't do any favors for the situation, especially if Shachi´s guess was right, but the way he was nonchalantly messing with you despite the recent tension ignited a raging fire within you.

As your eyes gradually adjusted to the dim lighting, you mustered the room you stood in. The space was bathed in a subdued, bluish light that emanates from overhead fixtures, casting an almost ethereal glow over the space. The walls are paneled in dark metal, giving the room an industrial feel, while shelves and cabinets are neatly arranged along one side, storing medical supplies, instruments, and equipment.

In the center of the room stood a sturdy, adjustable operating table with clean, white sheets draped over it. Overhead, a collection of lamps that could be adjusted to provide focused illumination on the table, created a well-lit and sterile environment for medical procedures. A sleek console nearby housed monitors and displays that provided vital information during the many surgeries your crew performed, one of them being the anesthetic machine you knew Penguin operated most of the times.

Near the table, there was a sink with multiple faucets and a variety of soap and disinfectant dispensers, underscoring the emphasis on maintaining a sterile environment. Cabinets around the sink stored gloves, masks, and other protective gear. A small workstation with a computer and medical records was positioned against the opposite wall, enabling the crew to access crucial information during procedures.

The room wasn´t overly spacious but was carefully organized to ensure efficient movement.

Just when you had finished your quick inspection, you heard the hefty iron door shut behind you, sealing you both inside. Standing close to the operating table, you turned towards Law, finally taking his form in for the first time this today.

His tall figure was framed by the subdued bluish light, casting angular shadows that only accentuate his sharp features. His raven-black hair fell messily over his forehead, the strands catching the faint glow from the overhead fixtures. On a closer look, his eyes seemed even more tired than usual. He's dressed in familiar attire, a black shirt with the Heart Pirates Logo embroidered on it, as well as his signature spotted jeans and hat.

Law's attention focused on you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watches your reactions and body language. His intense gaze held a mixture of concern, and perhaps a hint of regret. Despite the apparent nonchalance he displayed earlier, you could now see the underlying vulnerability that he couldn't quite manage to conceal now all alone with you, the lines on his forehead and the subtle tension in his jaw especially prominent.

You cross your arms in front of you, creating a protective barrier against the eerie atmosphere that seems to hang in the air. The dim lighting accentuates the tension between you and Law, amplifying the weight of the conversation that's about to unfold. Taking a deep breath, you finally break the silence, your voice steady despite the unease you feel.

"So, care to explain why we gotta talk here of all places?" you inquire, your tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Your gaze locks onto Law's, searching for any hints in his expression that might reveal his intentions. His usually unreadable eyes hold a mixture of emotions, and you can't help but wonder what he's truly thinking.

Law's response is measured, his voice carrying a touch of that characteristic calm that has both comforted and confounded you in the past. "It's neutral ground. This is our best chance from distractions and prying eyes. I don´t want even more of the crew to get involved in this.” he gives you a stern look, hinting at the situation he just dissolved.

You look guilty to the ground, nodding in understanding about his reasoning even if you weren´t entirely convinced since the roof deck would also have done the job. It felt more so that the operation room's sterile environment and its connection to Law's profession as a doctor seemed to be the room where he felt emotionally most stable for a conversation like this.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, but we could've talked about a potential break-up in our room or somewhere less... formal," you whisper, your voice carrying a touch of vulnerability as your gaze slowly returns to Law's. Tearful frustration lingers in your eyes, a reflection of the emotional turmoil that has been churning within you over the past week.

At the mention of the word "break-up," Law's eyes widened in genuine surprise. His usually composed expression briefly faltered, replaced by a mixture of shock and regret that's almost palpable. His golden eyes held yours, as he spoke quickly, a touch of urgency in his voice. "Are you crazy? I'm not planning to break up with you."

You hold his gaze, unsure how to react properly to his intense response. Your emotions swirl within you, a mixture of relief, confusion, and lingering frustration. Overwhelmed by it all, you decide to follow the crew's motto and follow your heart's lead.

"Then why avoid me like the plague? You could've just said you're not into the whole doctor-roleplay thing due to your ethics" you huff, your words tinged with a mixture of irritation and longing.

As you unfold your arms, it's a silent acknowledgment that you're willing to engage in this conversation, even if it means doing so in a place that feels slightly uncomfortable. The operation room's equipment continues its low hum, a steady backdrop to the charged atmosphere that envelops you both.

Law seems to wrestle with his words for a moment, his gaze flickering away from you briefly before returning, his expression a mix of resignation and determination.

He takes a step closer, bridging the emotional gap between you as a sigh escapes him, tinged with an air of resignation. "I'd be lying greatly if I said I'm not into this, y/n-ya, and that's precisely the problem," he confesses. You gaze at him, your eyes widening slightly at his unexpected admission.

"Hell, I'd willingly comply with any desire you express in that regard," he continues, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and frustration. "Whether it's indulging in role play or dissecting you all over this damn place. But my concern lies in the consequences. If my professionalism wavers, then what? I've already been labeled a freak by the world, and I couldn't care less about that but what about my crew? And most importantly, what about you?" His voice softens, as if he's revealing a truth that has been weighing heavily on him.

Law words linger in the air, the gravity of his dilemma palpable. The ambient sounds of the room seem to fade as you both stand there, engrossed in this intimate conversation.

"When you were on our bed, looking so alluring and ready for me," he continues, his voice almost a whisper now, "I found myself grappling with that very question. And truth be told, I still haven't found a satisfactory answer."

His eyes bore into yours, as if he's trying to convey his sincerity through his gaze alone.

You listened, your heart pounding as he lays bare a part of his emotions that he rarely exposes. It's both comforting and utterly terrorizing to witness Law like this. However, in reality you wanted to lay this part of him even barer to your eyes. Collecting your answer to follow your agenda, you replied to him, a slight smile on your lips.

"But thats kinda the charm, right? After all, who could juggle this risk better than the genius Surgeon of Death?" you ask, your voice softer as well, as you take one of his hands into yours, grazing slowly over his finger tattoos reading “DEATH”.

Law takes a moment, his gaze briefly drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. His cheeks are slightly tinged, a reaction to the praise you've just offered. "Well, duh, this would be horrible without my ROOM. Even I'm not that sick," he quips, a hint of his usual playful sarcasm in his voice. His tone turns more serious as he continues, "You gotta understand, this is all about endurance and trust, y/n-ya. If you don't like-."

You shush him with a simple gesture, bringing Law's fingers to your lips and placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles. "I trust you, Law. With my life. Please know that I would never say this lightly." you reassure him, your voice carrying the sincerity of your emotions. Your gaze meets his, and for a brief moment, the intensity of your connection is palpable.

Law's eyes reflect a mixture of emotions, a pained expression surfacing as he realizes the depth of the trust you're offering him, despite the turmoil he had inadvertently caused in the past week. "God, how did I deserve you," he murmurs, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice. In a sudden surge of emotion, he closes the remaining distance between you, his pink lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss.

You respond eagerly, the heated kiss igniting a passionate dance between your mouths. Your tongue pricks gently at his lips, coaxing his own to meet yours in an intimate tango. Law's response is immediate, his lips parting to allow your tongues to intertwine in a dance of shared desire. The room's atmosphere seems to intensify, as if the charged energy between you is affecting the very air you breathe.

The kiss deepens, a reflection of the emotions that have been building between you over the past week. In this moment, the operation room's clinical surroundings fade into the background, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken promises that hang between your heated touches and the mingling of your breaths. Only after your break off the kiss to catch some air, do you realize, that Law has elevated you onto the steel table behind you, the cold sensation making your spine chill.

"Are you okay with continuing here?" Law murmurs against your skin, gently nipping at your neck. It's clear that he's very enamored with the smell and feel of being so close to you again. "Sure. Just surprise me, doctor," you giggle, running your fingers through his thin hair. Law glances up at you, his face blushing slightly before he straightens up and scratches the back of his neck. "God damn, it's going to take some getting used to hearing that from you in a setting like this."

You grin at him, giving him a playful wink. "I'm not complaining. You look adorable when you're embarrassed."

"I'll show you adorable," he grumbles to himself, turning towards the table and the station nearby. You watch with interest, trying to see what Law is taking from the wardrobe. His broad frame intentionally blocks your view, making it impossible to see what he's doing. After a few moments of trying to distract yourself by kicking your feet back and forth in the air, you hear a loud snap of rubber coming from where Law was standing.

Your head snaps to him, realizing that he's covered his hands with a pair of medical gloves. He slowly makes his way back to your side, sitting on a rolling steel chair in front of you, a smirk on his lips. "Let's start all of this light, alright? So tell me, why are you here today?"

You already wanted to answer his first question when you realized that Law had already slipped into a role. For a brief moment, you were amazed at how effortless it seemed for him to play his part, but on the other hand, it shouldn't surprise you, considering his expertise. "Well-um..." you struggled to think of a reason, feeling that simply pointing at your cunt would be too quick as a starting point.

Luckily, Law quickly caught on, raising an eyebrow in amusement at your loss for words. "Any recent health problems? Need a check-up?" you contemplated your options before Law started to grin mischievously. "Too horny to think?" "Law!" you exclaimed, pouting.

"Sorry, what was that? I don't know any Law," he countered, crossing his arms in front of his chest playfully and smirking. "Sorry, Doctor," you chuckled. "Doctor-?" he asked once more, clearly wanting to hear something more specific. You sighed, already questioning whether this was a good idea, because it seemed that Law was way deeper into this than you had guessed. "Doctor Trafalgar," you sighed before continuing.

"Say, do you tease all your patients like this? Because if so, I have questions," you remarked, exaggerating a playful sense of exasperation in your tone. You couldn't help but smile as you spoke, the earlier tension of the conversation fading into a more lighthearted atmosphere.

Law responded with a nonchalant shrug and a widening grin. "Only the ones that catch my interest," he replied, his voice carrying a teasing undertone. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he gazed at you, his golden eyes filled with mischief.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "So, I'm just another interesting case for you, huh?" you retorted, playing along with the banter.

His fingers idly tapped against a nearby counter as he maintained eye contact, his playful demeanor undeterred. "Oh, you're much more than just a case, y/n-ya," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "You've managed to intrigue no other but the Surgeon of Death himself."

You raised an eyebrow in mock suspicion, a smile tugging at your lips. "And what exactly has intrigued the Surgeon of Death so much?"

Law leaned in closer, his gaze never wavering from yours. "Why don't we find that out together? For starters, you could get rid of all that fabric. Makes it terribly hard for me to conduct a proper screening of my dearest patient."

Oh.

You gulped, amazed at how well Law was maintaining his character. Encouraged by this, you tried to take it a step further. "Well, I guess you're gonna have to help me with that, Doc. You see, I've got this terrible headache."

Law grins cheekily at that, his hands gliding slowly over your top. "And why should a mild migraine interfere with your ability to undress?"

"Well, you see…" you start to explain, but Law cuts you off as he drags his fingers slowly along your sides, towards the hem of your shirt. "Seems to me like you want my help for another reason," he says with a smug grin. "But how could I deny you that, when you´ve been so good up until now?"

He softly places a kiss on your neck before helping you pull off your top, leaving you only in your bra. His tan tattooed hands quickly roam over your clothed breasts, as his lips continue to trail along your neck. "Might as well check for some lumps while we're at it," Law mumbles into your skin, his teeth lightly grazing your sensitive spots. He unhooks your bra to gain better access to your breasts.

Once the lacy material comes off, his slender fingers massage the outermost layer of your breasts, gradually moving in circles. You can't help but stifle a moan, even though the fabric of his gloves is still between his smooth skin and yours, creating a unique sensation. As his fingers reach your nipples, he grazes over them, causing them to tighten. "I-I don't know if that's really necessary for the diagnosis, Doctor," you huff, searching for Law's mouth with your own.

"Oh, but I've heard it does wonders for a patient's well-being," he grins into the kiss, seeking your approval. As you nod, Law quickly reprimands you with a firm squeeze of your thigh. "Mind your manners. You have to answer your doctor properly, or I won't be able to diagnose you correctly." You squeal at his action, a quick "Yes" escaping your lips.

"Yes…?" he tries again, teasingly biting your lip with his teeth.

"Yes, Doctor Trafalgar" you moan, desperate for more stimulation. "That's right."

Slowly, Law glides down your body, his hands cupping every curve of your torso as he continues his exploration.

As Law reaches your breasts, his mouth cups around one mound of your nipple, sucking sweetly on the pink, hard bud. Another moan escapes you, and Law continues to massage your other breast with utmost care, while his other hand lightly traces circles over your thigh. As he switches sides, tending to your other nipple with his tongue, he switches the side of your thigh as well.

With so much happening at the same time, you can't help but squeeze your legs together. The heat that starts to accumulate in your lower body becomes too much to handle without proper relief. The cold steel table underneath you provides support, but you crave something more. Luckily, just as you're about to say something, Law pulls away from you, a small connecting line of saliva still linking your nipple to his mouth.

Quickly wiping it away, he gives you a quick peck on the lips, mumbling, "All clear. Found no anomalies." You sigh into the kiss, and your hands slowly wrap around his neck, gently cradling it with your nails.

"Well, that's good to know," you respond. Law responds with a low rumble in his tattooed chest before slowly pulling away, leading the two of you through the room. However, with your nude breasts right in front of him, nipples perky and glossy from his earlier attention, it's hard for him to deny his building arousal.

He slowly approaches you once again, one of his gloved hands trailing down your right side before coming to rest atop your plush thighs, and his other hand cupping your chin gently. Your lips are close to touching, and he whispers with ragged breath, "Are there any other things we should check? Maybe around here? I haven't had the pleasure of performing your pelvic exams yet.", he muses, slowly dragging his hand that rested on your thigh over your abdomen, his fingers drawing small circles on it.

"Yeah, good idea," you breathe out, your breath hitching as you squirm under Law's hot touch. His skilled fingers swiftly free you from your pants, leaving you only in a pair of panties

"These will also need to go," Law hums, snapping the band of the lacy fabric, earning a quiet moan from you. You complain that it's unfair for only you to be nude. Law grins into the kiss he plants on your neck, before adding, "Now, now. It wouldn't be very professional of me to strip in front of my dear patient, right y/n-ya?" He quirks an eyebrow, giving you a teasing smirk as his hands slowly start to cup the mound of your clothed vagina, his fingers sliding tauntingly slow over the small hill.

"Fine, then let me do it, Dr. Heartbreaker," you huff, slowly opening up his shirt, revealing the tan tattooed artwork of black curved ink that covered his chest. You gradually trace over Law's chest, your fingers rippling slowly over each of his abdominal pecs, following the small black happy trail.

Just as you reach the hem of his pants, Law grasps your panties, sliding them to the side. His fingers delve carefully between your swollen folds, gathering the slickness with a naughty grin on his lips. "Seems like you definitely don't have a lubrication issue," he remarks.

"Law!" you huff, your fingers gripping on the cold steel under you, searching for more pressure from his gloved fingertips. Law is all too happy to satisfy your craving, his two gloved fingers diving deep into you just after chuckling to himself. "Sorry, sorry," he mutters.

The feeling of the firm rubber initially makes you cringe for a second, but you quickly adapt to the foreign sensation. You even relax a bit, enjoying the chilled texture it provides. With a stifled moan, you push yourself against him, desperate for stimulation. You're relieved to notice that Law has gripped your hips with his other hand to stabilize you on the table. His fingers start slowly but surely moving in and out of you.

The squelching sound of the rubber gloves and the juices of your cunt only spurred you on more, when Law hit that very special spot inside you. “Fuck, right there.” You moaned, arms slung around Laws neck, trying to hold the angle that gave you the so much needed stimulation, the heat in your core rising and rising until it was close to snapping. Law seemed to realize exactly how close you were to cumming, because just when you tensed up, close to spilling over he retreated his gloved fingers, the most self-sufficient smile on his sharp features.

“God, no, you´re so mean!” you quiver, legs shaky from the sudden break of contact, your orgasm ruined to no avail. “And you´re so very desperate.” He retorts with a sly grin, freeing himself of the gloves and disposing them on the small tray next to the table, before he´s back at your side, slowly opening up the button of his pants, peeling them down to reveal his clothed bock by a pair of dark spotted boxers. “But I know exactly the thing you need as a cure for that.”

You look down at him, eyeing the tent in Laws tight skinny jeans. You grin weakily, seeing the state he was in, slowly dragging your hand over him. “Do you now? Seems to me, like it´s more for your own treatment, Doctor.” Law groaned at the sudden contact of your hand on his clothed cock, sucking some air through gritted teeth as you dragged out the pet-name, before giving him a firm squeeze.

“Our treatment.” Law retorts, a groan escaping him as you pull his boxers down with much vigor, his tan cock springing free. You lick your lips at the sight. You´d always appreciated the stark contrast between Laws tan skin and the pink tip of his cock, but in combination with the trail of precum dripping down from it towards one of his most prevalent blue veins, you could feel your core throbbing with need to feel him as deep inside you, as he could possibly enter you.

Slowly you cradled his length, giving it a few taunting pumps, thumb swiping experimentally over his leaking cockhead. “And what does that treatment involve exactly?” you look up to him through long lashes, licking over your lips to moisten them.

Law replies with ragged breath. “You´ll just find out in about a second. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Your quick to oblige, settling yourself on the cold steel under you with your elbows, all spread out for your lover to see. He gazes at your form for a brief second, absolutely love drunk before the feeling of your knowing smirk gets to heavy. He quickly grabs a condom from the small tray on his right side, pulling it over his length, before he aligns himself quickly with your entrance. His hands wrap carefully around your hips to keep you in place, before calling your name.

“y/n-ya.”

You look up to him, surprised when he leans in for a loving kiss on your lips, slowly sliding inside you as he whispers, "I love you."

You moan at the pleasurable sensation that comes with Law's intrusion, his throbbing member filling you perfectly. As your walls adjust to being stretched since the last time you were intimate, you respond to your lover's declaration, tangling your hands in his black locks as you search for Law's lips.

"I love you too, Law," you mewl, feeling the doctor's erection stretching you. Law's breath hitches as you tighten around him. "God... you're so wet."

 "Just keep going," you moan, rocking your hips against his. A deep groan escapes Law as he slowly pulls out before forcefully thrusting his hips back into yours. "Fuck, Law!" you gasp wantonly, your captain groaning in response, holding you in place as he pounds your wetness with increasing intensity. "You're so desperate, y/n-ya, it's way too cute," Law huffs with a grin, partially withdrawing before hooking one of your legs around his hip.

"You're the one fucking me over your own OP table," you retort, crying out in pleasure when Law suddenly hits your sweet spot, a grin spreading across his face at your reaction. "And you're enjoying it," Law's dark voice resounds near your ears as he leans closer, angling himself to penetrate deeper into your soaked core.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, you cry out, digging your nails into your lover's tattooed back. Burying your head in his neck, you inhale Law's scent, the musky aroma mixed with alcohol making you dizzy. "You like it when your doctor fucks you like this, sweetheart? All spread out and at my mercy?" Law groans through clenched teeth, nearing climax.

"God, I love it!" you reply, the intense heat building up in your core suffocating you with each passing second. "And do you trust me, y/n-ya?"

You nod eagerly, capturing your lover in another passionate kiss before he presses his thumb against your throbbing clit, sending electric jolts through your body.

"Counter Shock."

For a brief moment, everything turns white as your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly. Before you can comprehend what just happened, you realize that your mouth is wide open, Law's name slipping from your lips like a mantra, and your sweet juices flowing over his cock while your walls tighten around him, milking him until the last drop.

With a groan, the handsome surgeon climaxes inside you, a low moan of your name escaping his cracked lips as your sweaty bodies stick together on the operating table. Trying to catch your breath, you look up at Law, who is also trying to calm himself.

"What in the devil's fruit name was that?!" you ask. Law gives you a tired but mischievous grin.

"That was Counter Shock. I just discovered it recently. It's a Haki-infused electrical power." Law's eyes glint with mischief. You can only gasp at the revelation that your lover just brought you to orgasm through electrostimulation before playfully hitting him on the shoulder. "You're such a sick man, Trafalgar!"

"Coming strong from Miss Med-Kink." he said with a playful smirk, referring to the recent intimate moment they shared. With a nonchalant demeanor, he pulled out and efficiently put his trousers back on. Law promptly handed you a towel, gently wiping you down and planting a tender kiss on your temple.

Assisting you in getting back on your feet, you slowly dressed yourself while helping Law sanitize the room. As you stood just outside the heavy iron door, the scent of alcohol lingered instead of the previous scent of passion. Law glanced back at you before speaking.

"Oh, and y/n-ya," he called out to you.

You turned to face your captain. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat before continuing. "This time, everything we just experienced remains strictly confidential. Understood?"

You flashed a mischievous grin, giving him a wink before resuming your position, leaving Law blushing behind.

"Of course, dear doctor."

[hihereami]

It DESTROYS ME that season 10 of doctor who is so overlooked as it is --  i feel like its the season where we can see the writing grow, its the season of BILL MOTHERFUCKING POTTS, the funkiest and loveliest lesbian in the universe, the season of the 12th Doctor in his most grandpa, his most compassionate and hopeful, the season of ‘‘without hope without witness without reward’‘, the season that marks Missy’s depth as it never was before, the season where we get gems - absolute gems like Oxygen (what a terrifying episode, good god) and The Pyramid at the end of the world/The Lie of The land (is it goofy at times? yes! is it the time where Bill’s imaginative nature and conviction saves the day? Also yes! Do I wish we knew more about Bill’s mom before those episodes? Also yes!!!!). S10 gave us the context of a domestic Doctor, a doctor after losing his wife, a doctor who stayed in the same place for one Darillium night -- twenty four years with his beloved.

And the sendoff, the sendoff, the peak of Missy’s arc, the Doctor at his lowest, having failed Bill, begging his oldest friend to stand with him, just this once. Bill Potts and the trauma of being abandoned for years -- the tragedy that her friends tried, but their seconds was days for her. The tragedy of becoming a cyberman and the absolute deus ex machina that I will never complain about -- her puddle lesbian lost love coming back, extending her immortality. Bury your gays, who?????

Season 10 is a delight and I really reccomend you give it a chance -- 12s run in and on itself is a delight. It has its misses but it’s so so heartfelt. It is, after all, a tired and run down and cynical Doctor relearning why he loves humanity, becoming his most human, learning to stay still and enjoy it.