#Fun Fact: This Chapter was 9 Pages

[theanonymousmystery]

FRACTURED SHELL | Chapter 1 (Pages 6-10)

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Leif's magic senses are tingling!

~~

More comic let's gooo! So disclaimer: If you're wondering why the art style changed midway through these pages, it's because I've gotten a new drawing tablet~! It has definitely helped to streamline the drawing process though, I will say.

(Also fun fact, pages 7-9 were the first pages I made. Yes, even before the prologue pages, lol)

In other news, I now have a master post for this comic! Hopefully that will make it easier for you guys to find your place when reading ♥

[noroi1000]

F**k your fav pt.9 - Bondage

Smut: Bondage, sex toys, overstimulation

Chapters Main Page

Your boyfriend's fingers rubbed your temple as you lay on his thigh with your eyes closed. Whether you want to sleep or not, it is still a comfortable pillow that you do not despise. You love those warm, completely soft thigh muscles he has.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked while reading a mysterious 'book' on his phone.

"Yeah." you purred with a smile, snuggling closer to him, showing that you were very comfortable and.

You could forget about when your days are to complete the items on the list. But he will never forget.

That's why he has to change something. Or add something. And you don't even know what it is, so that adds a bit of fun to it. You never expect what he will come up with. He might as well put something weird in there and you would only find out it was on the list when he started fucking you in the most unrelenting way...

This is your biggest mistake. You don't take his phone and check that list.

But well, the fact that you are unaware of what he wants to do with you now is his game.

He smirked at your calm, unsuspecting face.

You lay so politely on his thigh, feeling his fingers.

Oh yes, it was the calm before the storm.

He preferred you to relax now. Before what is about to happen.

This is going to be wild. Because even if he likes something like that, you've never tried many things like that.

Bondage... How beautiful it sounded now.

He was thinking about typical BDSM. However, he didn't want things like waxes and other painful things. He didn't want to see you hurt. This was supposed to be fun for you.

And by the way, is this still a test to see what exactly he likes? Or is this just his game?

He likes oral, anal. He likes to fuck your pussy. He likes to tie your hands sometimes. Well, he likes to dominate you.

If you ever agreed to anything more than your wrists tied, he would run for it.

But well, by agreeing to these tests, you agreed to help him. And with all this, you gave your consent to do whatever he wanted.

He ignored his biggest demon in his dick that told him to do unspeakable things to you.

There is no sex in his domain and there is no sex that will only hurt you. These are the rules.

Overstimulation, cum play, choking, dom/sub, bondage. That's all. All the things like pain for you and fun for him are out of the question.

And as he now looked at your body dressed in light clothes, he knew he hadn't made a mistake putting Bondage on the list.

You will look so beautiful naked, with your nipples erect as he takes care of you, your pussy dripping and the red ropes all over your body.

You will look beautiful and defenseless while he plays with your body with his cock.

And this 'book' on his phone is nothing other than bondage positions during this type of sex.

The best way for you to tie yourself up would be to have your legs close to your chest.

This will enable him to have the deep penetration you love so much.

And how does he know this?

Because when he bends you in half to fuck you deep, your eyes start to roll back in his head and water. And you moan louder and squeeze what you're holding onto tighter.

He read that most women hate it when something touches the cervix during sex. Because it's a strange feeling and discomfort, and even sometimes pain.

But he could only giggle through it. Because you had no choice but to get used to it.

There's no way you can avoid this with his cock.

He specifically measured the length and thickness of his cock. Just to show you his results. (Over 10 inches. More than 25cm I guess?)

(He couldn't measure everything precisely because the only ruler he had at home was a 20 cm ruler. The ruler was too short and the dick was too long)

And unfortunately these results are death to your pussy that has to endure this greatness.

And I wonder how your pussy will cope with taking him constantly spread to the deepest part.

When you tried to open your eyes, all you saw was black. Is that why you felt something in your eyes?

Did he just... Did he blindfold you?!

"Let me please..." he stopped and suddenly jumped out from under your head, making you no longer have a pillow under your head.

You don't know why you have such a (perverted) strong boyfriend when he ripped your clothes off in one move, tearing them into shreds and scattering them all around. Showing the wildness of his mind now.

What would he like to see today... Everything you can offer him!

You felt cold air on your body and he disappeared somewhere.

You heard the closet opening.

And when you went to take off the blindfold, you felt him quickly grab your hands and pull them above your head.

"Be a good girl and let me get you into position." You felt him kneel between your legs, draping your knees over his shoulders.

"Satoru –."

"Bondage. Baby. I have to tie you up. I want to tie you up." You heard him chuckle under his breath as he said those words. A quite soft rope wrapped around your wrists. They tied it like that for a while and suddenly he smiled when he saw the carefully tied knot which he had learned to make thanks to videos on the Internet. Special knot. "Don't be scared." he said, rubbing your thigh to get you to relax a little.

Only then did he use the rope that was tied to your wrists to pull your arms forward, wrapping them around your knees and bending you the way you were supposed to be.

"Don't be so tense. It will hurt to hold it in one place if it is tied too tight. So stop being so tense. Relax your body."

You didn't feel completely reassured, but you managed to heed his request.

On your lap he created the same knot as on your wrists, but you could have your thighs open.

(Correction: you had to have your thighs flared because you had no choice.)

He tied your wrists to the rope that was taut between your knees, making your body a crooked cradle.

"I almost forgot."

His hands reached somewhere else.

You heard the bottle open and then click as it closed.

And he spat on your open pussy, and smeared his saliva and something else cold on you.

It wasn't his finger. It had a rounded and quite wide tip....

Whether it is...

"Don't be tense." he repeated again and began to push the purple and pink toy into you with a large drop of lube on the tip.

Writhing at the sudden intrusion, you let out a few gasps.

When the base reached the end, the round, protruding part pressed against your clit.

"Here you are. Honey, you love this butterfly, don't you? This has always been my favorite and yours. "And now I need you to be wet and ready for me before I finish tying you up."

Wait, a butterfly?

That's what he said about that hellish vibrator with...

You let out a surprised moan when another, quite twisted tip of the toy found its way to your ass, pushing the wet ball inside.

This is the hellish vibrator that made your legs shake all damn day! NO! You don't want that now either!

(When he's not home, yes, you can use it. But when he uses it on you, it's different! He's using all the options on this shitty toy!)

"T-Toru!" You moaned to show him that you didn't want that thing inside him right now.

But he had already turned on the vibration, and you felt how it was destroying your unprepared nerves...

"Sorry, baby~. This was supposed to be BDSM~. But I chose the easier version for you ~. But that doesn't change the fact that you'll be like a good girl and take what I give you, right?" His humming voice echoed in your ears as he continued to bind your thighs and arms.

Sometimes he moved his hands under your body, near your ass. Laughing at the wetness that began to drip from the toy.

And you couldn't make any strong sounds. Because there was a little red ball on a strip in your mouth.

"And~..." He paused and then you felt his fingers grab the blindfold on your face. "Tadah!"

With your eyes watering from the stimulation you were feeling, you could see the red ropes connecting all over your body, especially showing off your tits.

"Don't you think it looks beautiful? And it took me so little time! You haven't even come yet!" He laughed.

He started to take off his clothes, but the first thing he did was release his rock hard cock, which looked like it was releasing drops of precum right onto your clit when he saw you, as he stood so close to you.

His red tip seemed to salivate at the sight of you and the knowledge that it was about to find its way into your hot, tight pussy.

As your body was bent, you could see the handle of the toy that was working inside you sticking out of your pussy. And the strong vibrations made wet sounds as they worked on your insides.

"Are you focusing more on the toy than on me?"

You saw and felt his fingers lightly pressing the toy as a punishment for you.

Yep, he was already naked. He searched for your eyes. And you looked more at the toy that made wet drops fall from you.

"I think I have enough punishment for you." He hummed and positioned himself next to you, squeezing a drop of precum onto your clit again.

His thighs pressed against you as he prepared to attack.

And at a breakneck pace, he replaced the toy in your pussy with his cock, moaning loudly in relief.

When you received different stimulation than before, you felt like the stronger and deeper stretching gave you something new.

And his small push forward caused the coil in your stomach to burst and your thighs to tremble as your eyes closed.

When he realized what had just happened, he smiled demonically.

"Keheh! Are you really cumming now?! I should feel honored that you cum just on my cock!”

As he pushed inside through your orgasm, he had no intention of waiting for your body to calm down. By agreeing to something like that, you were agreeing to excessive stimulation and really rough sex.

Your muffled moans were perfect to end the day.

Your trembling thighs rested against his chest as he moved his hips at a fast pace, feeling your pussy just suck him in. As if you wished he would never leave you.

The heavy sound of his ass slapping against your wet buttocks filled the room along with your muffled screams and moans.

Is there anything more beautiful than seeing and listening to you? No, there isn't. He sees in this image the most beautiful thing in the world.

Too hypnotized by the sight of your bouncing tits and the sight of your wet, fucked-out face, he didn't even pay attention to the small movement that was forming under your belly button as he pushed his cock so deep to you.

His movements never seemed to slow down.

He loved this sight and this feeling.

And the fact that you were lying defenseless and tied up underneath him only fueled the fire inside him that told him to fuck you until he exploded.

But at this moment, rather than cumming inside you, he preferred to cover your body in his cum and watch you lie there marked as his. With a fucked up brain as you shiver from the wild ride he gave you.

Maybe you'll want to do it again sometime?

Because he would love to see you lying there tied up while two cocks fuck you.

Maybe Suguru would agree to something like that?

Besides, this was probably the first time he started wondering why you blushed when you heard about him. Of course you like him. Also, why did Suguru agree so quickly?

Could it be that you both like each other?!

He was a little jealous, so his pace became a little more intense. But he also thought that his fantasy of seeing you kneeling in front of two big cocks could actually come true!

He may not have sounded normal when he proposed to his girlfriend that she had a threesome with another guy, but Suguru isn't exactly a normal guy.

He is also someone important to you!

His imagination, and the hellish yet angelic grip of your pussy, sent him over the edge.

He placed his cock on your stomach and squeezed your thighs together, fucking the softness of your skin.

For thick drops of cum to shoot out, covering your belly before he even decided to pour over the rest of your body. Thighs, and of course pussy.

He reached down, pulling the soft gag from your mouth. Letting you breathe deeply.

At this time, he pushed into you to warm his length for a while.

And he decided to say some very brave words.

"Maybe I like bondage and fun like that. If that's too much for you, prepare to be shocked, mochi." he chuckled, watching his cum drip down your stomach and crotch. "From what I know, Suguru sometimes likes to clearly show who is dominant and who is submissive. I can't wait to see this~.

Only to feel your pussy tighten slightly.

A/n: The relationship between Gojo, the reader, and Geto is a little different than it may seem. Gojo decided to invite him not only because he had fantasies about a threesome. As he was thinking about the question at work, he remembered an interesting incident from their future when they were still at school.

[mqverick]

Walking On Air || chapter 9

Take me to bed or lose me forever, was what Carole said to Goose every time they were together, having fun. Maverick never really understood what she meant by it until he started having feelings for you. It was exactly how he felt about you; he needed to just fuck everything and everyone, every obstacle in the way, and take you with him before he could lose you to someone else — which ironically enough, had already happened.

Or so he thought, until the other night.

He had been so fixated on the fact that you were taken so deeply inside of him, that he believed he could never fully have you, that part of your mind would always stay true to Iceman, even if the miracle happened and you broke up with him.

Hearing the drunken words come out of your mouth, so rushed and so painfully angsty, got him hoping you might be getting lost in the same path he’d been since the day you spoke to him for the first time. Drunken words were — in fact — sober thoughts, after all. Not to mention that it was the — what, third? — time he almost got to kiss you. Maverick was not the one to pine after someone, he was used to the exact opposite effect, never having to chase anyone.

He liked having to chase after you, though. He liked to dream up flawless scenarios of you, desperately wanting them to come to life. He liked how much of a dopamine rush he got from those breathless conversations and moments with you. It was hard to resist the urge to keep his feelings buried, opting to play them off as a charismatic, casual flirt — because that was what he’d been used to. That was all he knew.

You liked the way he yearned for you as well. He just made you feel so irresistibly wanted and loved, even if his cockiness never really helped his pure feelings come to light. You were very aware of them though, you were in the same page as him, never mind the fact that for you, it happened as an accident. Sure, a little flirting never hurt anyone — but oh, he was holding your hand (and for some reason you found yourself struggling to breathe steadily.)

In the morning, you woke up wanting to beat yourself to death. You’d been mindless; consuming all that alcohol, getting yourself hammered and ignoring the consequences.

Goose’s words were bloody when he said that Maverick technically had every right to hit on others. Goose’s words teared your heartstrings in pieces and made you conscious of how you’d been accusing everyone else to be a jerk, when in reality, you’d been the only twat in the story.

Maverick probably hated you.

Tom would probably hate you, too.

You tried. Gave it your all — good point to chuckle — to make your relationship with him work, but every time you closed your eyes, your mind betrayed you, unable of getting a certain someone out of the picture. The worst thing was the fact that you didn’t even really care whether Tom would want to cut you off once he found out about the situation you’d been dealing with.

You were frightened of the scenario where Pete stopped caring about you, mostly because it was impossible to imagine. Therefore, you did your best to turn yourself invisible by making up a rushed excuse of being too hungover to properly function at Top Gun, opting to stay home.

Tom respected your decision, wishing you to get well soon as he gave you a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you fell back on the couch with a plop. You felt as if hours had passed when a thud on the door startled you. You fumbled to get up, standing unblinking as you opened the door to see Maverick holding a paper bag with both of his hands as he fiddled the heel of his shoe around the floor while chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Heard Ice say you felt poorly and got you something,” he spoke lowly, reaching his hand out for you to take the item he held. Your lips parted in silent surprise as you hesitantly invited him in. “Look, I know you don’t want to see me, but you might as well say a word, because it’s getting sort of weird.”

“Maverick, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d bring you a little something to eat.”

You honestly despised the man. How did he still care about you after you you’d been unable to seal your mouth shut the night before, yammering about mistreating you (mind the irony), you didn’t know. Still, that did not constitute an obstacle for you to lunge forward and fling yourself into his arms, your head hitting against his chest as you encircled his waist tightly. You moved your head a little, stopping dead in your tracks as your ear picked up the sound of his heartbeat violently increasing.

He still had to reach for you, taken aback by your sudden affection and not being sure how to react. Maverick’s brain short-circuited, until everything finally clicked and he was holding you so close to his body, he thought he was squishing the life out of you — but he never heard you complain.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” you whispered, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You wanted to say more, apologize for being so ridiculously indecisive and not giving him the chance to move on, instead having him wait until you could grow a pair and end things with Tom, but the words died down in your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his palm now cupping the back of your head. He knew you could hear his heartbeat and he also knew it was giving him away.

When you pulled away, your knees buckled and you almost melted into a puddle. His hands had somehow traveled down to your smaller ones, holding them delicately.

Take me to bed or lose me forever.

“It’s a grilled cheese, in case you were wondering, by the way,” Maverick blurted, looking over to the paper bag with the food you’d left on a counter.

“I love it.” I love you.

“I need to get going.”

“No,” you argued, grabbing his hand in yours the moment he reached for the door handle. “Stay here with me. I’m sure Viper’s more than happy that you’re not there to wreck the planes. Goose might be missing you, but he can cry about it to Carole when the day is over.”

Maverick let an amused chuckle escape from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, gently rubbing on the skin with his thumbs.

“You want me to stay with you?” he asked in disbelief. It was adorable how flustered he was.

“I’m not repeating anything, Mitchell.”

With a little smirk and a smudge look on his face, he moved toward you, leaning in closer to your lips, which was a scenario you’d accepted, hadn’t he had a sudden change of heart and went for your forehead instead, pressing a long, warm kiss against it that made you shudder under his touch.

“You want me to stay with you,” he chimed, sounding more as if he was bragging to himself.

You tried to stifle a smile as you placed your ear over his drumming heartbeat, already forgetting you had the whole ‘sick from the booze’ act to keep up, but then again, when had you ever been able to hide what you really felt around Maverick?

“We can’t be here though,” you suddenly mouthed, the image of Tom unlocking the door to you and the man he hated snuggling comfortably up on the couch causing sweat to form on the back of your neck as you pushed Maverick away from you and fixed your fingers through your hair.

“Why not?” You gave him a knowing look that made him sigh. “We can’t hide forever, you know.”

Deciding to ignore his comment, you dragged him outside by the hand, nodding where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Cliff tops,” you silently explained and saw the corners of his lips turn upward as he helped you onto the seat.

It seemed to startle him when you wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your face against the fabric of the leather jacket that covered his back, turning his head ever so slightly to look at you with that charming Maverick smirk of his.

Your heart hammered against your chest as he began driving, hair flying carelessly through the wind, leaning further into him and clutching your intertwined hands firmly against his stomach.

Your brain felt as if it was fogged by the light fragrance he was wearing, head nuzzling on his shoulder now, lips moving dangerously close to his cheek. You let them carefully graze his skin, feeling him shudder — or was it just your mind playing tricks on you?

After having arrived at the tops, Maverick got off his motorcycle, lending you his hand to take as he helped you get off as well, shaky, nervous fingers testing the waters as he gently let them linger around yours, waiting for your hand to pull away. Instead, your knuckles tightened, grasp sinking into his, not daring to look up at him for capturing his reaction.

He sat next to you on the hill, so close that the warmth radiating from his outer thigh gave you goosebumps. You shifted just a little, so that your leg could be touching his, eyes darting down on your lap as you crossed your arms.

“It’s beautiful up here. I like how I can consider it our spot now,” you heard Maverick mutter.

“Our spot?”

His head turned to look at you. “Yeah. Ideally, the first time I would’ve liked to bring you here would be a date, but I can settle for the late sneak-out after your fight with Kazansky.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly met his cherishing gaze. You hadn’t wanted anyone like that in really long time and it felt like something was sucking the soul out of you. “Maverick?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re flying, you might lose power. It’s a fatal risk, but it doesn’t stop you from enlisting in the Navy. Flying at up to 700 mph, the smallest mistake can be deadly, your plane could plunge out of the sky, break apart on impact. The cockpit is too small, so you’ll feel like your losing your breath even though you might not have died just yet — and it’s all terrifying and out of control.”

Maverick stared blankly at you, waiting for you to make a point. “What are you trying to say?”

“This is exactly how I feel whenever you look at me,” you finally mustered the courage to confess, seeing your lip starting to quiver. Unsure of how to properly weave the complexity of your feelings, you opted to let your pinky softly wrap around his.

Maverick stared at you, jaw slightly hung, eyes gleaming. “You feel that way about me?”

His question came out so shaky and gentle that it worsened your situation of trying not to break down right there in front of him. “Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously insufferable, I hate you.”

He cocked his head to the side with the tiniest hint of a smirk. “But you love flying.”

“I love flying,” you confirmed, letting the rest of your fingers wrap around his hand as you brought it over to your lap, holding it firmly enough to believe that what was happening in that moment was not just a figment of your imagination.

“I love flying, too.”

With hope written all over your face, your mouth stretched into a grin, holding back a giggle. God, when had you turned fourteen all over again?

Right when you were about to say something, you felt his lips ghost above your forehead before he was leaning down just a bit and kissing the bridge of your nose as tenderly as he could, making you dizzy and unable to think straight. Kiss me, kiss me before I regret it, before I start thinking again. He stalled against you, foreheads now touching as he realized that you hadn’t moved away from him yet.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“What?”

“It’s what Carole says to Goose. Said. I don’t know if she still tells him that. I never got it, to be honest, but all I know is that I don’t want to lose you, Maverick. Never,” you explained breathily.

“You’re not losing me, not even if you want to,” Maverick chuckled, letting a warm puff hit your already very reddened cheeks. You smiled at him, head now moving forward, so that you could nudge the top of his nose with your own.

“Pete,” you whispered, the words coming out as a ghost tugging at his heart. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, bringing you oh so impossibly close to him that if you squinted hard enough, your lips would be touching. And there it was again; that look he’d been giving you ever since the day you met, lovestruck eyes melting into yours. “Drop looking at me like that, Pete.”

“I can’t,” he spoke, voice weary as if he was on the verge of tears. “You walked in the room the first time Viper came in and the breath was knocked out of my lungs the very same second. So, no, I don’t think I can look at you in a way that’s not giving away how deeply head over heels I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, stunned by his words. “Don’t continue the sentence, Mav. Don’t continue it, because if you do, I’m going to lose every last ounce of self control I have in my body right now and I should warn you, there’s not much remaining.”

Maverick nodded slowly in acceptance before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then deciding to be brave, ducking down just the right direction to kiss the corner of your lips. His palms were still holding onto your cheeks, applying more pressure now as he let his mouth linger, heads connecting. You were about to lose it; all the sanity in your system, all the thoughts of do’s and dont’s. With a slight angle twist, he could be kissing you properly, on the lips, but every cell in your body was sweating to prevent that from happening. It was killing you.

“I love flying so much, Roger. So much that I don’t care if it costs me my life, I’m going to keep pursuing breaking the typical rules and fly on my own. It makes me feel alive,” Maverick confessed.

“You should,” you replied breathlessly. “It’ll get you places, Pete. You can hold your own.”

“Take me to bed,” he whispered, loud enough so that you heard him, a small smirk creeping up against the — now flushed from the kiss — corners of your lips.

“Or lose me forever.”

tags:

@holishol

@honeymvnt

[juruna-yudja]

Is the flash-forward in Ao no Exorcist (chapters 139 & 140) relevant?

Is essentially the direction this post will take and the question it seeks to answer. This WILL contains spoilers for the manga, from chapter 110 to the current last update, chapter 148. You've been warned.

So! One thing I've noticed lately in the direction Aoex is taking is that it seems to be gearing up for a final arc.

Big confrontation against the Big Bad with all the allies gathered in a desperate last stand? The world at stake? Allies actually suffer losses and are subject to mortality?

Check, check, and check.

By all metrics, this looks like a final batttle, final arc material. Except! There are a bunch of things that make me say the manga is far from over. Mostly it's a dual thing. The big one is the flash-forward chapter. The other reason is how the content of those two chapters is linked intrinsically to everything else.

And now another warning. All of this is speculation and theorizing. Take it with a grain of salt, don't get too hyped up. I could be wrong and reading too much into it. So keep that in mind.

That said, in the aforementioned chapters, halfway through chapter 139 and two-thirds of chapter 140, we see the future in a vision. More precisely, Mephisto is given a vision.

The funny thing with Mephisto is that he already broke the fourth wall once, in that one chapter I can't remember for the life of me. This, for me, gives credit to the flash-forward right away. Beyond the fact that its existence is a deliberate choice made by Katou of course.

Besides, since we're on the topics of choice, there are many elements present in those two chapters that tell me all of this was thought of in advance. Because those elements are referenced directly or in a roundabout way in the previous or following chapters. Here's my list:

Shima's dream of becoming an idol:

Chapter 139 page 27

And here is him saying it outright when asked about what they'd do after the battle in their story's present.

Chapter 144 page 9

Rin's powers:

The fun thing Kato Kazue has always done was color code Rin's power for our convenience, especially lately. In the recent fight with Yukio, he makes mention of Rin's appearance and how the way his brother looked then, bright hair and visible demon's core, meant that he was unstable. And later, Rin said that he tamed his demon's side.

Chapter 132 pages 20-21

BOOM. TRANSFORMATION

And as it happens, in the flash-forward there are also transformations and what's special about those is that he doesn't need to sheath and unsheath Kurikara to make them happen.

Chapter 140, pages 9, 16 and 18

But that is before and during the flash-forward. What about closer to the story 'present'?

Here is Yukio reaching out to Rin so his big brother can talk about his problems if he wants to. Because he learned his lesson about bottling up and trying to face everything on his lonesome. Isn't awesome and cooing worthy?

Anyways, Rin gives us access to his inner thoughts and tell us how he offered to make peace with Satan and was harshly rejected. But the whys of this are especially important.

Here he is, on the eve of their final battle, asking himself if this is the right way. Not outright rejecting Satan's words. Still on his journey of acceptance of his heritage.

The stages we've seen so far are; denial, acknowledgement, looking at the whys and hows of his nature by witnessing the past, trying to repress and then tame his demonic self by exerting control. The missing parts for me are understanding and acceptance. There is a space left for it in the 'present' and in the flash-forward, our vision of the future, he seems to have gone through those stages and be able to use his powers at will, finally at peace with himself.

Chapter 143 pages 27-28

The Paladin condition:

Chapter 139 page 21 & chapter 140 page 31

The exact same form of damage that one of the Ba'al's host bodies incurs through rapid cell regeneration/degeneration. Also, because I don't think Arthur's status as the only Lucifer's clone & prospective host to survive was put in here just to give him an existential crisis he refuses to engage with.

Speaking of the Ba'al's hosts though.

Astharoth's incarnation:

Chapter 144 pages 25 & 28

As funny as those panels are, and they are funny, I don't think it was done solely for the bit. If they were, why bother bringing back the guy who can theoretically be accredited with kicking off the whole plot by forcing Rin's first transformation?

Manga likes being self-referential and it's arguably a better idea than crafting a new guy out of whole cloth, but then why bother giving us these little glimpses into the individuals' attitudes, goals, wishes, and dreams of the Ba'al in the eleventh hour?

Katou Kazue has taught us to expect better.

And now that I've mentioned expectations...

Shiemi's uncle:

Chapter 114 pages 8-9 and chapter 131 pages 11-12

So, what's up with this guy? He scares Shiemi on an instinctual level when she's not easily frightened, and with the bloody hand and the way we see him smile in Shiemi's forgotten repressed memories, my personal bet is that he killed someone, she witnessed it and he told her to forget or made her forget. Also, has ambitions to shape her to his will, given the nature and tone of their short conversation.

Something else that's also important with Shiemi's uncle, he's the one who purposefully lied to Arthur about his origins and exudes absolutely creepy (controlling) vibes in general.

Chapter 111 pages 14-17

The Uzai family, attendants of Shemihaza, raised him once he got out of Section 13 Asylum due to Shemihaza's interest in him. That is what he's told at least. But... he's already been lied to about his past.

At the time it is very possible that Hilkiah was following the current Shemihaza's lead and keeping mum on exactly what Section 13 was or how it connected to the True Cross Order.

What matters in this section is the story's present. When presented with an opportunity to tell the truth, Jeremiah reinforced the lie.

Arthur considers him family, calls him brother. They're close enough that he expresses his deepest and most ruinous doubts to Jeremiah, the question that would make him reconsider his entire existence.

The question is, why would Jeremiah lie to Arthur?

I think the reason is that Jeremiah was assigned to stay at Lucifer's side by his uncle (despite Shemihaza's protests) to keep an eye on Lucifer and saw all of this:

Chapter 118 pages 20, 22-23

Chapter 119 pages 15-16

[Not included (I'm fighting with the image limit) but relevant. Before Lucifer zapped them all to cinders there was a first flash of light that mesmerized Arthur. He walked to it, saying, "It shines like something special... I want to be like that too." When the possibility he could die heading toward the light (ironic, I've just realized) is raised, teenage Arthur responds, "It's okay. If I die I can be part of it."]

So what Jeremiah saw is this; a child unharmed among corpses reduced to cinders, despite withstanding the full intensity of a lethal attack from Lucifer itself. The success of Section 13's research, a bargaining chip in the future for when Lucifer comes back.

And the reason I think he lied was to keep that bargaining chip nice and snug for eventual possession by Lucifer. Because demons feast on Exorcists' doubts and struggles. And what's more offputting and likely to put someone off kilter than touching upon their very identity?

Uncharitable? Maybe.

But Arthur is drawn into a fight by the guy who created Satan's host body, baited into getting close enough to be injected with something, and the next (and only) time we see him after that is during the flash-forward where he shows signs of advanced degradation.

This takes us to the final point I wanted to make.

The Looks:

Chapter 139 page 28

They're the law enforcement of the dystopian future which tracks its citizens' location and schedule; that Paku is a victim of and which Rin works against, so what? What's the only other place we see the extras wear berets alongside their uniform?

Chapter 110 pages 5-6

And which other faction wears white among the True Cross Order than the Grigori and more precisely, Shehimiza's faction? No one. Manga is a visual way of doing storytelling and this is why I think the visual coding is important.

Plus, Katou Kazue did go through the pain of giving the True Cross Order's uniforms. Uniforms that very visibly change design in that future we're allowed to glimpse, so to me, it's not a coincidence.

Also, I think, (this part is purely speculation) that in the flash-forward Jeremiah and his faction seized power, and allied with Lucifer, took control of the True Cross Order. Hence why the organization is so repressive and controlling, to the point that Rin (who didn't kill homicidal zombies because he's on the side of humans) actually kills one of their... chief operatives? Someone who represents a legion, presumably, someone important enough to be hunted down.

Previous paragraph aside, none of this was put in there on a whim or at random. In fact, the flash-forward is surprisingly cohesive, plot and characterization-wise (I'll definitely have to do an in-depth analysis of it to do it justice) and I'm of the firm belief that it is a teaser of what's to come.

Personally, and this one is a gut feeling only. I think that the current arc is either: the penultimate arc or the midway point of the manga.

[fledglingdoodles]

Fun fact: This was the specific panel that single-handedly convinced me to start working on this comic again after not touching it since 2021. Champion Chapter 1, Page 9 is up!

[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R Warning: Communication is a THING for these two. They have to talk shit out because Cupcake has some baggage and Buggy is impulsive and worried. He has concerns. Relationships have bumps in the road. A/N: Still dealing with relationship stuff but there's fluff at the end! Also the word document this is stored in is at page 69. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e @fanshavegottensotoxic @honey-deerling

Chapter 14

“Wait, what?” 

“I asked if you’d marry me.” Buggy said, looking down at you as your brain tried to catch up to what just happened in the last ten seconds. You had been waiting for him to do something, finger you, fuck you, anything, but proposing marriage was not what you expected. Did he really want to? Would you want to go through that again? “Listen, it won’t be like your last marriage-”

“Damn right it wouldn’t be!” You shot back as you sat up to stare at him in surprise. “Why would you want to get married?!”

“Because people in love do that, babe!” He told you, hoping his words were comforting for you. “I know you were “married” before but it wasn’t out of love, okay, so this will be an actual marriage where we love each other and take care of each other, y’know?” The fact he used finger quotations in his statement didn’t… help. You were baffled at his logic. It was dumb, you didn’t want to get married again after the last time, but… he was trying. Buggy was trying to make the idea of it appealing to you even if you were horrified he even asked.

“What… do you think goes on in a marriage, Buggy?” You asked him. “Huh? Are you gonna make me clean up after you, cook your meals, pop out some kids for you? Because if you’re expecting it, find another bride! I’m not doing any of that!”

“You can’t cook, why would I ask you to cook for me?” Buggy asked with a frown. “And you already do my laundry. This… this just means we’re official, y’know, if we’re married. And… and kids, no, I don’t know, maybe? Not any time soon, y’know.”

“I-I love you, but why do you want this?” You were trying not to panic, thinking what if he married you, grew tired of you when the fun wore off and he decided he was done with you? Would he dump you off on some island where you were a stranger, or would he just keep you around to fuck whenever the two of you were bored? You couldn’t imagine getting married again, even willingly, because you didn’t want to be put in a terrible situation again.

“Because I love you, Cupcake!” Buggy insisted. “Geez, I just… I just don’t want you to get tired of me and leave if I don’t show you that I’m serious about us!”

“You-You think I’m going to leave you, why?!” 

“Because I love you, babe, and-and people leave, okay? And I don’t want you leaving me!”

You stared at him in shock, trying to wonder how or why he started thinking that. Why did he think you would leave him all of a sudden? You’ve been with the circus nine months now, and half of that time was in a relationship with him. You tried to wrap your mind around why he was thinking this but nothing was coming to you.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you, Buggy?” You tried to keep your voice calm, even  though internally you were freaking out about the idea of marriage, even if it was to Buggy, someone you actually loved. He took care of you, had since you arrived even if your first few interactions didn’t reflect that. Buggy had given you the choice to stay or go, something you hadn’t had before. You had no intention of leaving him.

“Because everyone does.” He stated it so bluntly your heart hurt. Did he think you were just going to up and leave him one of these days?

You covered your face and groaned before dropping them and reaching for him. He let you take his hands in yours as you looked up at him. “Babe, I am not leaving you ever.”

“Yea-”

“Shushshhh.” You tugged him down on top of you as you laid back, wrapping your arms around him as you held him against your body. “I’m not. I promise, Buggy, I’m not leaving you. There’s no reason to propose marriage to me if that’s your reason, okay, because… because if I’m marrying you it’s because we both want to and you really want to, not out of some fear you’re gonna be alone.”

He leaned into your touch, wrapping himself around you as you kissed his temple and stroked his hair gently. “Babe, you rescued me and gave me a choice, so you're stuck with me for a while.”

Buggy lifted his head up just a bit. “We’re moving the tent. I didn’t… want you to think about staying behind.”

“And why would you think that?” You sighed as you tried to pull the blankets over the two of you, adding that extra layer of comfort while you held him. “I told you just a second ago that you’re stuck with me.”

“But then someone better could show up and take you away from me, that’s what I don’t want!”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?” You asked as you stared at him in surprise. “Buggy, babe, I’m not gonna do that. Who the hell do you think would waltz into the circus and convince me to leave with them? No one, okay? No one would have done what you did for me, even if you were a little violent about it.”

He let his head thunk against your shoulder as he clung to you. “I don’t want you thinking you can do better.”

You tried to hide your frustration with his sudden change in behavior, hoping you could mask it for concern. You were concerned, yes, but frustrated as well from him being sultry and ready to fuck you to a whining mess in your arms, thinking you were leaving him if he didn’t propose marriage to you. What went through his mind when he asked that? You never wanted to get married in the first place, you didn’t really have a choice in the matter at the time, but now… someone was asking. Someone you loved and cared about, even if he asked at the weirdest moment.

“Ugh, Buggy…” You shut your eyes and counted to five before taking a deep breath. “I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no right now, okay? Let’s… let’s wait.”

“Wait, why? Why do you want to wait?” He demanded as he looked up at you. “C’mon, I’d be a good husband!”

“I’m not saying you wouldn’t be, I just- we should wait, okay?” You said as you tightened your arms around him, hoping to keep him in place as you chose your next words carefully. You didn’t want him overreacting anymore. “Let’s… wait until we get to the new place, okay, where the tent’s going up, because if you’re gonna ask me to marry you, I’d rather us not being naked with your fingers knuckle deep inside me.”

Buggy considered that option. It would take a few weeks to get to their new spot which would give him time to come up with a way to propose to you that would have you saying yes immediately. He didn't like you being hesitant, not accepting it right away. 

“Really, let's wait. You're stressing yourself out and I don't want you to ask and… regret it.” You continued as you kissed his forehead. “And not regret it as in asking me, but regret in that you didn't set off fireworks or blow up a town to ask. You want it to be flashy, right? So don't ask when you're about to fuck me.” A pause. “Actually I'd be offended if you didn't do something flashy to propose.”

He sighed and let his head drop against your shoulder as he settled in your arms. It was impulsive to ask, it came from fear of losing you, but to know you wanted him to ask again in a flashier way helped soothe the small rejection. You kissed him on the forehead, his cheeks, lips, and finally his nose. He frowned at that last bit but you just stroked his cheek with your fingertips softly, giving him a smile before kissing him again.

“I love you, babe, but have some patience, okay?”

Buggy nodded and sighed softly. “Fine.”

~

It was a flurry of activity with the crew to get everything packed up. You couldn’t believe you spent nine months living with a circus on your home island. Did they normally spend this long in one place? It was a little weird to be leaving without acknowledging your parents but they probably assumed you were dead given what happened to the house. It was bittersweet to be leaving but you were ready. 

You helped pack things up to move onto the ship. It took a few days and it was weird only seeing Buggy at breakfast and bedtime. He was busy getting everyone on task, making sure everything was done on time and in the way he wanted it done. Things they needed right away would be loaded last to make it easier to access at their new location. Richie was settled into his little area of the ship with a fresh bed of straw down for his comfort. 

Your clown was exhausted and irritable. The night before you set sail, you thought he needed to relax and you knew he’d fight you on it, be a total brat, but honestly, you wanted him to have a moment where he wasn’t thinking about all the things left to do. You set his favorite snack out on his vanity before getting the tub ready with hot water in it, hoping he’d be tired enough to listen to what you wanted, which was for him to fucking relax for a few minutes before bed.

When he showed up about 15 minutes later, grumbling to himself as he toed his boots off and tossed his hat onto the bed, you stood up and walked over to him. Buggy looked over at you and sighed.

“What now?”

You swatted his arm and helped him out of his coat. “I got you a snack and filled the tub up. I’m ordering you to eat the snack and sit in the tub for no less than 15 minutes.”

“Babe, I’m exhausted.” Buggy shook his head. “Snack, yes. Bath? Fuck no.”

“Buggy.” You batted his hands away before you started to unbutton his vest. “Fifteen minutes in the tub, that’s all. Please?”

“I really want to go to bed.” He whined softly but you looked up at him, eyes widening as you stuck your lower lip out, chin wobbling as you started to fake cry for him. He groaned again and shook his head. He was too tired to fight. He let you undress him before leading him over to the tub first. He needed to relax in the hot water before enjoying his snack.

“We’ll go to bed after you relax for a few minutes.” You told him as you knelt beside the tub and picked up one of the pieces of chocolate you had cut up. It was a mix of fruit and sweets, nothing too exciting, but you wanted him to have something before bed. You hadn’t been seeing him at dinner which made you think he wasn’t eating or he was only grabbing an apple or something as he ran around. You pushed the piece of chocolate out to his mouth and he took it, giving you a tired wink as he ate it.

“You don’t have to do this. I can feed myself.” 

“Yea, but I want to, so shut up and let me stuff your face with some sugar and fruit.” You retorted as you gave him an apple slice next. 

“Rather stuff my face with something else.” He grinned as you rolled your eyes. “I feel like I’ve been neglecting you, babe. I should take care of you next.”

“No, you need rest.” You told him as he took the apple, but not before nipping at your fingertips. “I don’t need you falling apart because you ran yourself to the ground trying to get everything ready. That’s what Cabaji and others are for, you know, to help your ass out so you’re not having to do all the work.”

“Cupcake, babe, I can rest after I take care of you.” Buggy insisted as he grabbed your wrist as you tried to feed him a piece of mango next. He kissed the top of your hand before taking the fruit, making eye contact with you as he chewed it. It wasn’t as sexy as he thought it was. Once he was done, he brought your hand closer to his mouth, taking each of your fingers into his mouth one at a time, sucking and licking the fruit juices off. If anything you were more amused by his actions than turned on. Having your hand slobbered on by your boyfriend wasn’t the highlight of your day.

“Okay, finish the plate, another ten minutes in the tub, and you can fuck me if you’re up for it.” You told him as you pulled your hand back and dipped it into the water to wash his saliva off. “If you keep putting your hand in my mouth I’m going to think you’re going to need more food.”

“I definitely need something.” He winked at you and you flicked some water at him. 

“Uh huh.” You leaned on the edge of the tub and grinned at him. “You’re such a romantic. Just your words have me swooning, Buggy.” 

“As they should!” He replied as you wiped your hand on your pants before handing him another piece of chocolate. He took it, chewing it as he sank a bit further into the tub as he looked at you. He felt a little silly, self conscious even, that you were taking care of him like this. He was the one who wanted to make sure you were taken care of. “You really don’t have to be doing this.”

“I know.” You smiled as you reached over to drag your finger tip along his jawline, the stubble catching along before you pulled your hand back. “But I want to because I love you, Buggy.” You picked up another apple slice for him and held it out to him. “And you take good care of me and I wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

He took the apple slice and  looked away, hoping you thought his red cheeks were from the heat of the water and not from your words. He chewed it slowly, occasionally glancing over at you, before he swallowed and nodded, muttering, “Thanks, babe.” 

[bleachbleachbleach]

[Bleach 072]

I <3 the version of the Gotei where the official, written into military record, carved into posterity, names for things are things like "Doom Blast" and "Evil Travelers." IT'S SO GOOD. I think it's amusing that the Viz chose to translate "ryoka" but not "seireimon," because both are Bleach-specific vocabulary, but idk, "gate" rolls off the tongue better than "evil travelers." My guess is that it wasn't clear that "ryoka" was a term that was going to get as much play as it ultimately does, and Yoruichi had just spent a page defining and naming the "Seireitei," so calling this wacky skyfall gate the "Seireimon" seemed appropriate.

Fun(?) Fact: 旅禍 (ryoka) is a combination of the kanji for "travel" + "misfortune" and what we'd probably colloquially call in English "the Pandemic" is written コロナ禍 (corona ka), using the same kanji as the "ka" in "ryoka."

But anyway, these guys are all at the gate because as we saw at the beginning of Chapter 71, an alert goes out with instructions to notify "regions 3-7" about the ryoka threat in West Rukongai. But they don't have... jurisdiction? to do anything unless the ryoka actually come inside the gates, so they're just here to Gotei and chill. It's funny that these boundary lines are drawn so strictly in this moment, given that once Yamamoto slaps down those Special Wartime Measures, tracking down the ryoka comes across like a scattered free for all. But maybe everyone who wasn't a captain/VC living out their best cowboy lives really did hew to the original regions/jurisdictions the whole time. But if they did, their grid search of the premises did not go particularly well.

Given how much of the Seireitei appears to already have been broken into the 13 Divisions, I wonder how these regions work. Maybe the Seireitei is additionally sectioned into regions to help mitigate the possibility of each Division cordoning off pieces of the city that become its "turf," minus their actual barracks/offices. Like, it's a concession, where the Gotei is like, "Okay, the Captains can have full autonomy over their units and get to be gang bosses in that way, but we can't be having turf wars in the city, so let's nationalize all of this and make little patrol regions that do not correspond to the layout of the Divisions in the city. So, this afternoon, Regions 3-7, which are on the west end of the Seireitei, will be staffed by Divisions 3 and 9's best and brightest!"

[wolf-and-raven-dreaming]

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[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Remember a Time XI

Series:  (Pt.1), (P.t 2), (P.t 3), (P.t 4), (P.t 5), (P.t 6), (P.t 7), (P.t 8), (P.t 9), (P.t 10) Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader ;) (High school Au ) No Powers Word count: 1904 A/n: Things are starting to get serious. I am trusting the process, everything will fall into place, hopefully. I hope you peeps enjoy the story so far I appreciated you all. Some love to the annon that sent me a message. (U know who you are <3)

Your first year of college was rather uneventful. Well that's what you liked to tell people, but in all honesty it was absolutely horrible. You and Natasha had entered this new chapter of your lives together and on the same page. You couldn't help but feel that by the end of the first semester you guys were reading two completely different books. Natasha was a go-getter she was impeccably amazing at everything she decided to put her mind to. She had chosen a very demanding Law major and on top of that she would give her all to train and practice to be the best. You didn't choose the easiest major, but it was lax compared to Natasha's 3 hours worth of reading each night. Business management was something that you felt somewhat passionate about. Your father had a somewhat large company that he built from the ground up. And you were fond of the idea of picking up the mantle when your time came. But you also had fun, a lot of fun. 

Once your mother found out you would be attending UCLA she made sure that you got everything in order to pledge to her old sorority. You'd never been the type to think that you would try out let alone fit in and thoroughly enjoy being a part of. You only pledged to your mothers old sorority and once the fact that you were a legacy came up you were welcomed with relatively open arms. "How's pledge week going, please tell me you're not being hazed by some weak blonde bimbo." Natasha said as you walked into your apartment. "No... I'm being hazed by a hot blond bimbo." You joked, chuckling at Natasha's disgruntled look. "Not cool.." She huffed "People don't do that anymore, but I think that I really like it there." She smiled. "I'm glad that we’re both finding our place." She said walking towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug and giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. 

That would be one of the last moments you had with her that didn't end up with the both of you fighting. You absolutely hated having arguments with her but the universe just seemed to want to pull you apart. Freshman year was a year of discovery, you learn a lot about yourself and your limits unfortunately sometimes you can get caught up in all that freedom to grow and and honestly lack of adult supervision. You'd become an avid party goer and maybe a tad bit of an alcoholic. Natasha was busy most days, her schedule was packed and you couldn't complain all the contrary you admired her dedication. But the lack of seeing each other was creating friction because when she could see and spend time with you, you were at a party or hungover, or busy yourself trying to catch up with school work. "We can't keep going like this Y/n what's happening to us?" Your tears were muted, you felt her sadness and yours. This was only going one place and you both knew it. 

Natasha was having a hard time. It took a long while for her to adjust to not being near her family, then it took her even longer to adjust to being with you in this new phase of her life. School was stress inducing to say the least of course she had things under control but that didn't mean she didn't stress all the contrary she only had it under control because she stressed. Soccer was as good as it could get. She only really pushed herself so hard because it relieved some of the stress she was feeling. All of her teammates were likable and trust worthy. There was one teammate in particular though that she could really see as a good friend and that would be Maria Hill, team captain. She had taken Natasha under her wing and taught her the ropes. There was something more there and she could feel it. A small wince or a clench of the jaw every time she mentioned you. There was something there and it was driving Natasha crazy. She'd promised Wanda and herself she wouldn't hurt you, and here she was considering it. 

It always came down to Wanda didn't it.

"I-i Natasha, maybe we should..." Your phone rang in your pocket with the last number you'd think would call you. It was Pietro, you were shocked to say the least. "I think that I should take this..." You motioned to the phone in your hand. Natasha nodded, wiping a tear from her eye too busy trying to compose herself to notice who was calling. "Is this Y/n's number? " The voice on the other end sounded unfamiliar. "Yes, I'm sorry but who is this and why are you calling from my friend's phone?" The person on the other end sighed. "Um, Y/n It's me Vision. Listen, you might want to take a seat or something." Your heart rate picked up and your shoulders tensed. Natasha noticed and she herself began to brace. "Pietro he um, he's been in an accident Y/n." Your heart ached, your hand moved to your chest, tears immediately welling in your eyes. "It's not looking good." His voice was heavy with sorrow. "She told me to call you..." Your heart broke at that, Wanda. "I'll get the next flight out, I'll be there as soon as I can. Please keep me updated." You urged. "I will just please come."   

The line dropped and your eyes finally met Natasha's. "Pietro's had a- He's been in an accident." You barely managed to get out. Natasha tried to step forward with her arms reaching for you. You moved back, your mind still reeling with what was about to come out of your mouth before you answered that phone, and the phone call itself. "I need to call Tony, He'll get me there in no time." Natasha's surprise was thinly veiled. "Y/n you're in the middle of the most important part of the semester, finals are around the corner, you can't just up and leave." Your eyes pierced hers. "I can, and I will. My friend could very well be dead right now." Calling him that felt wrong, he was more than a friend, sure things were rocky after Wanda. But you still cared immensely for him. You left her standing there in the tense silence you'd created. You dialed Tony he answered on the first ring. "Finally, my jet's waiting for you and Nat." You winced at her mention. "Just me, I'll be on the plane within the hour." Natasha drove you to the hangar, the drive was silent. It was uncomfortable, but you appreciated her being somewhat reasonable and not bringing up your conversation right now.

"I'll let you know what happens when I land." You said when you'd finally pulled up to the plane. "I think maybe you shouldn't." She said quietly, her eyes on the ground in front of you. You scoffed out a laugh, wiping the tears in your eyes. You nodded. "Noted, Goodbye" You didn't give her a chance to reply boarding the plane as quickly as possible. That flight was the longest four hours of your life. You weren't mad at Natasha you'd seen this coming just not like this. Never like this. It hurt but It would've hurt more if you'd both waited until it was too late. Tony was there when you landed . He gave you a crushing hug, which you returned. "What happened?" You asked, your voice breaking slightly. "Pietro was hit by a drunk driver on his motorcycle." You winced. "He's still in surgery. They're trying to stop all the internal bleeding." You nodded already trying to steady and strengthen yourself. Either way it was going to be hard. "Wanda, how is she?" In any eventuality it would be a lot to deal with. "No one thought this would happen, you never think something like this is coming." You only nodded. The drive there again was incredibly silent. 

Your eyes searched frantically for her, you definitely looked worse for wear no sleep and a prior maybe relationship break up was definitely taking a toll on you. When your eyes landed on her you knew she needed this... you. She looked pale, her eyes were dull, she was a ghost. You didn't look or feel any better but you knew she definitely was feeling it. Vision saw you first and quickly motioned you into the seat next to her.  He didn't bother stopping you for a greeting, he just let you be. Seating next to her was overwhelming to say the least, she still hadn't knocked out of her mind. Only thing you could think of doing was reaching for her hand. When you finally built the courage to, you reached out for her, her head barely turned to acknowledge you, but when she did it was almost an immediate her reaction. It was like the dam had finally broken and her breathing was erratic and her tears were overflowing. You pulled her up with you and into you. You put as much force as you could into the hug until she calmed down. You were just holding her. "It's not a dream..." She said into your chest. 

Your eyes watered. "It's not, but everything is going to be alright. Pietro is strong, he'll pull through." She nodded. "He has to be okay, You're here. He has to be okay." You could only hold her tighter.

Something had changed when you went back to California. Your apartment felt empty, it didn’t feel the same. It was hard to pinpoint at first but then you noticed it. Her things that were always somehow splayed in your apartment were gone. Even the most mundane things that she’d leave there were gone. Her drawer and closet space were empty. That’s when the dread came back. She'd left… 

Christmas was as bleak as it could be, it felt wrong to feel happy. You kept your word and celebrated with your parents. There wasn’t much to do, you and Tony spent a lot of time together during the month you had off of school. Surprisingly you survived and passed the semester. Things were grim, and Tony respected your space and left it alone as much as he could. Which meant that you third wheeled Tony and Pepper for the better part of a month. You avoided any and all contact with the Romanoff’s and they seemed to understand. Well all but one. “I told you not to fuck up.” You sighed. You were currently trying to open your front door. “I didn’t.” It angered you that she was letting this narrative run. You turned to look at her. “I came back, and she was gone.” You were about to continue when you heard the steps coming up behind Yelena. “I told you not to bother her.” Her voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water. 

Yelena was about to argue with her but quickly shut up when she met Natasha’s gaze. You didn’t bother shifting your gaze from your keys. Instead, you choose to turn and finish opening your door. You could hear Yelena talking from behind you. “You’re just going to let her walk away like that?” You closed the door before Natasha could answer, but you still managed to hear what she said. “Yes…”

Tag-List: @when-wolves-howl, @alyciaddict,​​ @username23345,​ @arixxxxxxxxa, @justyourwritter69, @picnicminded, @swiftdazer, @alphawolfchicago1124,​​ @sojo154, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx, @marvelogic, @wandasmistress, @alwaysgoodnight, @chickenlittlsblog

[coal15]

Why Have I Done This To Myself?

I have multiple fic projects going for three radically different shows, and it's giving me whiplash.

9-1-1

Working on 1st Draft: Untitled comedy fluff, Madney have Josh over for a wine and game night. Maddie and Chim get into a shipping war w/Maddie on Team Buddie and Chim on Team Tevan. Josh gets dragged into the argument as a mediator. He is the only adult in the room. He is not pleased. I'm barely a page into this one, but so far it's hilarious (imo).

Working on 1st Draft: I posted a poll for what my next non-smut 9-1-1 fic should be, and Tevan + Best Friend Eddie won. Untitled, it's set 5 years from now and Christopher has just left home to start classes at Oxford University. Buck and Tommy take Eddie on a fun trip out of town to distract him from the fact that his son is so, so far away. I'm about 4 pages in. It's cute and wholesome.

3rd chapter of explicit Buddie/Tommy smut A Weird Kind of Beautiful Buck and Eddie have been in a committed relationship for 10 months. They're at Tommy's place for a movie night when unexpected smut ensues. Love and the importance of absolute trust in romantic relationships is emphasized throughout, but it is basically PWP.

2nd chapter of funny fluff drabble Buck's Gonna Buck. The 1st "chapter" was Buck's POV of him getting everything prepared just right for a romantic dinner date at his place before Tommy shows up. Spoiler alert: he spirals. The 2nd bit is going to be Tommy's POV of him getting ready and heading for Buck's place.

Heartstopper

8th chapter of fluffy romantic Nick and Charlie fic A Series Of Odd Proposals. It begins with them getting engaged in a rather bizarre way, and each chapter is set in a new chapter of their married life. In the chapter I'm currently writing, their daughter Jessica turns 10 and I'm super close to finishing it but it's such a different vibe from my other projects it's tough to dive back in!

Good Omens

11th chapter of All Roads Lead Back. Reunited/romantic/mystery/adventure. Aziraphale discovers the Metatron has somehow exiled the Almighty and seized control of Heaven right under everyone's nose. It's up to him and Crowley to rescue her and set things right, and they have to do it from the inside. Conspiracy and espionage ensue. And fluffy aziracrow cuddles. Also Muriel is a sweet lil bean (and a badass).

And I repeat: WHY HAVE I DONE THIS TO MYSELF?! I HAVE PLOT/SHIPPER WHIPLASH!

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month: the-pale-goddess

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @the-pale-goddess! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: the-pale-goddess Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

I downloaded Choices in an extremely terrifying moment of my life in late 2019. I was seeing the ads everywhere and thought that this game might serve as a fairly decent distraction. Well, I wasn’t wrong skfjksjfk 

I’m not sure which one was actually the first, but it was either the default TRR or Save The Date promoted at that time. 

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

My obsession with Open Heart and Ethan Ramsey tied nicely with the release of the second book in 2020. The lockdown allowed me to explore this fictional world further, so I started looking for more content. I found the legendary Denise, aka @justanotherrookie, while lurking on IG. That’s when my long-forgotten Tumblr account came to my mind, and I logged in with the intention of scrolling through the tags to satisfy my EJR thirst.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Oh, dear…It’s very silly! My skin is extremely pale and I have always been obsessed with music; hence the combo. 

Fun fact: this account is quite old (though still not as old as my tumbroke card; I had like three other accounts before this one), and I was slightly embarrassed to enter a new fandom with my dusty aesthetic blog signed by some ominous name, but decided to go with the flow. Then the-pale-goddess has become my brand, and it was too late for any changes–anyone who has changed their URL knows how problematic blogging is afterward.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

My first fandom post was inspired by the frustrating ending of the softball chapter AND the first hiatus announcement…It didn’t age well. As we all know, Ethan & MC didn’t ‘talk about it.’ What’s more, we had to survive a long OH drought before PB decided to resume the second book. 

Three years later, the very same shitpost is still the most popular Choices post on my silly little blog lol

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

3 years, fanfiction is my pandemic baby! Though I’ve been writing since I was a kid, it was mostly poetry and never in English. But as time passed, I got more occupied with my teenage life and eventually lost motivation to write. That old passion resurfaced several years later, at the beginning of the pandemic. Apart from the obvious need for distraction from the COVID situation, I was frustrated that my English skills were getting rusty, so I decided to dive in. 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

No surprise here: Open Heart (the first book) and Open Heart 😂 I never tried writing about any other Choices book. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

Miami Heat aka my smutty Miami AU. The concept is brilliant, but the execution…Yikes! I often think of rewriting the entire thing because the writing is amateur at best and my inner perfectionist cringes whenever I think of this mini-series.  

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

It all depends on my mood, so here’s a list of my favorites!

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cabin Fever - apparently this 69 plotless smut is iconic for some reason? I don’t really get the hype. It has an insane amount of kudos on ao3, my other fics can’t compare lol 

Burnt - Book 1 mutual pining E&T classic and one of my absolute favorites (we’re talking top 3); it could definitely use a little more love!

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I’ll shock you all and say that I wish I could write fluff for the rest of my life kjgkdgjkdf But since I suck at it, I’d love to be stuck with angst and a dash of smut. 

It’s probably a sad thing to admit, but I feel the most comfortable while writing angst. The realism of pain and the emotions that follow are simply very familiar, and it’s easy for me to conjure up a creative image to match the idea. Besides, there’s so much to explore in the angsty realm: all the flavor, nuance, layers, and symbolism. The possibilities are endless!

Smut doesn’t need an explanation, does it? I live on the thirst street 🤡

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I do. That’s probably why Open Heart got me sucked right in–OH MC felt very real and relatable, I couldn’t help but see bits of myself in her. Though we share many traits and experiences, Tiffany definitely isn’t an extension of me. I poured my heart and soul into this woman, but she has become her own person and I try to avoid self-projecting into her character unless there’s a clear purpose. 

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Recently, I have been struggling with writing in general lol The internet is ruthless!

My biggest issue is that self-loathing perfectionist who doesn’t let me enjoy the process, nothing seems to be good enough for her, and that attitude dims my motivation and hinders creativity.

On a more technical note, I absolutely suck at describing basic movement. I could churn out a long essay on a character’s internal struggle explaining the most complex emotions or a 4K elaborate smut, but when it comes to finding the right words to portray the simplest action, like walking down the stairs or setting the scene for an early morning conversation at the hospital, I feel lost kdhdkhdkdb 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Pretty much all of my WIPs are neglected 🤡 But here are the most important projects I’m hoping to finish at some point in the not-too-distant future: 

Home With You AU

Past, Present, Future

My Way Home Is Through You

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Since fanfic is based on an existing work of fiction, and the core plotlines and characters should be well-known to the readers, I guess it could be a tedious and confusing read for someone who isn’t involved in the fandom. But then I have received comments from people unfamiliar with OH who have stumbled upon my fics and gave them a chance, so maybe I’m wrong lol 

I like to think that I would be okay with sharing my works with someone I know and trust in real life, but let’s be honest: my crippling anxiety would stop me ksjfkjssd However, if I were to pick a fic rec, I’d choose Heaven Upside Down AU because it doesn’t need an extensive OH knowledge. Plus, I’m very proud of this series.

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

While I try to keep my writing style unique and simply mine, there are three lovely ladies who had a huge impact on my writing journey:

@writinghereandthere (aka an actual genius and my writing role model) was the direct source of inspiration behind my fanfic revelation. I fell in love with Ethan and Mariana, Ana’s beautiful prose, her wit, unparalleled talent, and fantastic characterization. Her writing changed the trajectory of my life. Though she left the fandom long ago, her masterlist is a must-read for everyone, trust me! (Ana, if you’re reading this: I miss you more than words can convey. Sorry for the spam I leave in your inbox every now and then skgjksgjk Hope to hear about your original work soon ❤️)

@starrystarrytrouble & @terrm9 - these two literary geniuses have inspired me to follow my own writing path and develop a distinctive style. Their masterpieces offer poetic, raw emotions, encouraging me to allow myself more creative freedom. I’m in constant awe of their unmatched talent and come back to their works whenever I want to feel things ❤️

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

Can I have all of them, please? 

I would pay all my money to watch a TV series based on my canon OH plotline…I’m not kidding, I even made a bunch of Netflix edits because I need it in my life. On the other hand, my precious AUs would look amazing on the big screen! The most scrumptious one still hasn’t left my head though, so you have to trust me–the cinematic potential is truly there kdgjkdgjk 17- Do you write original fiction? 

I have a few ideas, but they’re so complex I’m stuck on the outlining phase. Mayhaps one day?

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I’m a certified music freak and a cinephile. I practice destroying male egos on a daily basis. I love photography, niche sports, playing with my dog, lifting people’s moods, random unhinged facts, and ignoring reality, and I have just entered my skincare expert era. 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

🥰 + ✨ + 💀 

These three emojis perfectly encapsulate who I am as a person, I think: full of love and magic, but also dead inside ksjgksjgks 

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

I’d like to thank our lovely admins for giving me this exciting opportunity to ramble about my tiny corner on this hellsite and showcase my word vomit. My heart is full of gratitude! I may not be as active as I used to be, and real life doesn’t allow me to change that, but our fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and I feel very lucky to be a part of this community. Thank you for still putting up with me and supporting my fictional world ❤️❤️❤️

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: oh boy okay so Angst! profanity! Violence! Mentions of blood! Injury! Abusive-ish behavior!!! MARTIN!!!!!! Ferran! Blackmail!! Just shitty behavior!!!! pls don't read if you're not comfortable!

Word Count: 14.1k (fun fact! If you've read all 7 parts, you've read 87 pages single space!)

A/N: Guys this is one of the chapters I had planned out from the beginning. I really have poured a lot of my own soul into this, so I hope y'all enjoy! I'm actually so ready to read the reactions to this one lol. GIF by @rubendiasatl

You thought you had met the love of your life in college. He appeared to be perfect. He was the captain of the swim team, rumored to get a national championship that year in the 100m freestyle. He was the secretary of Phi Pi Delta, the largest business fraternity in the region, set to work on Wall Street making $200k right after graduation. You two were the perfect couple: Ryan, with his perfect hair and perfect smile, the sexy, sporty Spanish girl on his arm. You were conquering medicine as he ruled the world of finance. Sometimes on your walk to class, you would daydream about what your wedding would look like.

You did everything that was required of you as "Ryan's girl". You were an academic badass, but in a completely different field, so he could have a smart girl that would never be his competition. You worked as a sports manager, showing that "Ryan's girl" was a powerhouse on her own that commanded respect, but turned into a shy little lamb around her man. You worked hard and played harder, going to every PPD event and mixer. You always drank to show people that you weren't a prude, but you were never the girl hunched over the toilet losing her innards. You were good at beer pong, but only when Ryan was your partner. You played 7 minutes in heaven, but were so cold and intimidating that everyone left with blue balls and a muttering of "what a bitch". For 8 months of your senior year, you were "Ryan's girl", and you were the absolute best at playing the part.

It was a tiring job, but one you balanced with all your other actions. You learned how to get him and his friends basketball tickets mere hours before tipoff. You were an expert at covering hickies, but also enhancing them when he wanted to prove to the guys at a rival frat that he wasn’t soft. You killed your complaints and your gag reflex, knees growing used to the rough carpet of the frat house. You never asked for his location, and never made a face when other girls talked about how much they wanted your man. You never bored him with talks of your futures after graduation. You were perfect.

You looked perfect the day you walked into the frat house, hair pulled back in a slick ponytail to show off the piercings in your ear and the tightness of your polo shirt. Your khakis hugged your thighs, Jordan’s pristine as you slipped them off before heading upstairs. The basketball team had offered you a full time position; you could stay for the next several years if you so chose. Everything was perfect. The sky was the perfect shade of blue. The air was the perfect temperature with a perfect breeze. And as you opened the door to your boyfriend’s room, you saw a bare figure on top of him, connected at their cores, with her mouth shaped in a perfect “O”. And one perfect tear ran down your cheek as you silently walked back down the stairs, ignoring the yells about it not being what it looked like, and left Ryan behind forever.

You hadn’t thought about Ryan in years. But his memory came back to you as you pulled up to Martin’s house and found his car parked out in front of his door instead of it’s usual place in the garage. The Benz stared back at you, looking so different from that first date. It had been bright and welcoming and joyous that very first time it rolled up in front of your building. Now it was different, the blue taking on a more hue, feeling ominous and serious. It was the color of midnight - the color of fear. Why was the precious Benz parked out front? Martin wouldn't even let some valets park his car for fear of it getting scratched. His tires were still turned. The Benz was crooked in the driveway.

You walked up to the door, and you thought about Ryan again. You thought about the countless texts he sent you afterwards, telling you how much he loved you and how he would never do it again. And you read every single one, waiting with baited breath for him to say what you needed to hear: that he regretted it. That he had made a terrible mistake when he was out of his mind and he hated every second. But it never came. He wanted you, but he never regretted that moment with her. He never felt remorse about the moment he decided she was more important than you were. It didn't make you sad or angry - just empty. It was like a hold had been carved out, and it was another reminder that it would never be filled. You would never be the first choice. You would never be that girl that was above it all. You would always be a pretty good girl that needed to be supplemented by someone else.

The hole within you had not been filled, but it started to be covered by some good people in your lives. Your friends at your physiology program made you always feel competent and capable in what you were doing in school. Angelika and your other university friends gave you comfort, covering the emptiness with warm feelings. And now, you had the boys at Barca had worked to cover that hole with positive affirmations, reminding you that you were just as much a part of the team and how much you were valued. And there was a bit of the hole that started to close, one centimeter at a time, every time you looked at your phone and saw that Gavi was checking up on you.

You felt that hole fill with butterflies as you wrote out your Christmas card to him. You hadn't wanted it to come across as cheesy or desperate, despite you reassuring yourself that you couldn't be desperate if you were in a relationship. You had begged the media team for any photo of you and Gavi, knowing how much the sentiment would mean to him. One thing you had noticed during your two brief appearances in Pablo's home was his appreciation for the few pictures he had. They were taped to the wall beside the door: photos from his youth at his La Masia matches, his family on vacation, and a polaroid with a few of the Barca boys. A part of you hoped you would make it onto the wall.

But with each knock on Martin's door that went unanswered, the butterflies disintegrated, filling you with smoke and ash and bile, the hole in your very soul aching. As you turned the doorknob, you felt it give way easily - the door was unlocked. He had come home, car parked haphazardly, with the door remaining unlocked. You braced yourself, not exactly sure for what, and entered the house.

You should have seen it coming. You should have known from his demeanor and the way he spoke to you when you were with him versus when you were away. You should have listened to the whispers on the internet and in the locker room. But you ignored it all, believing that people were inherently good and caring. And now your naivety had all culminated and led to this moment: you standing in Martin's entryway, staring at his hideous brown couch, a trail of clothes leading from your feet to the naked girl perched on the dark fabric. The two of you locked eyes, and her mouth dropped agape. She grabbed the closest piece of fabric to cover her bare form, her pale cheeks turning scarlet from embarrassment.

"Bonita, hurry up so I can call my girl-"

Martin's eyes locked with yours, stopping dead in his tracks and freezing as his girl on the couch did. You waited for either of them to speak. With baited breath you waited for the feminine screams of "you have a girlfriend?" and the begs to provide an explanation. But the air was heavy with nothing but guilt and the disappointment of being caught. As your breath grew heavier, the nausea settled into your stomach. You tried to muster a tear, deciding it would be less embarrassing to cry than to throw up on the tile.

"Bonita, it's not what it looks like. If we could just talk-"

"How are you going to use the same pet name for the both of us?" You asked, patience finally snapping. The emotions from the last four months came flooding through, boiling the blood in your veins. You had cut yourself up and torn your very being apart to please this man. The things you wore and said and did and ate and enjoyed were all altered to fit his impossible standard. You were playing a part again. You had sacrificed so much of yourself for one crumb of affection and security, and once again you weren't enough.

"Just calm down an let me explain."

You tried with every fiber of your being to keep the tears at bay - you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt you.

"All I ever did was try and be a good girlfriend. Do you realize that? Through the stupid dinner dates and your rants about football, I tried to be patient and fun and understanding. I never complained, not once, about your lack of support or how everything you did made it clear you didn't like me. I dealt with all of your cold fronts, your unfounded jealous, your below mediocre sex - all of it, because that's what you do when you're in a fucking relationship until someone finally cuts the cord and frees you both. But you didn't have the decency to pretend." You spat the words out at him, no longer caring about if you cried.

"The least you could do was not fuck anyone else in the house that you asked me to move in to."

Everyone on the room had gone silent, from Martin to his mistress. How could he retaliate? Where could he start? The flood gates had been opened, and the realization of how much this man made you hate your life was flowing freely.

"Goodbye Martin." You turned and walked out the door, your keys in hand, ready to go home and lose consciousness. Tomorrow you would wake up and be as you were - single and free of the burden this relationship placed on you.

"Come back here." You heard Martin's voice shout behind you, before a hand reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, ripping your keys from your hands, cutting your palm in the process. As the red fluid pooled in your palm, you looked up at Martin in shock and fear. He looked back at you, then at your outstretched hand still pooling with blood.

"Shit, I'm- I didn't mean to do that. But you can't just drive away until you let me speak. I won't let you."

"As if you're allowed to decide what I can and can't do. Give me back my keys before I call the police."

"You're not calling anyone or doing anything until I speak to you." Martin said, lunging at you and grabbing the sleeve of your shirt. You cried out and struggled against him as he tried to pull you towards the house, hoping to prevent a scene in front of the neighbors. Martin's side piece stood at the door, now fully clothed, watching silently as the two of you struggled by the entryway.

"Get off of me you cheating sack of shit! I don't want to hear anything you have to say, let me go!" His grip loosened as you pulled away, unable to restrain you with both hands for fear you would take your car keys back.

"Bonita, I'm not trying to hurt you, I love you and I-"

"Bullshit! And stop calling me fucking bonita." You tried to reach for your keys again, but Martin's hand came and wrapped tightly around the collar of your shirt.

"No. You don't get to abandon me without hearing what I have to say. All I have ever done is try and look past how difficult you are to love and be around," his grip tightened on your collar, the fabric now bunching to restrict your airway slightly. "And now that I've made one mistake you think you get to just run? You're not going anywhere until I say you can. If you know what's good for you, you'll just listen."

The bile started to rise in your throat as your heart beat faster. For the first time in your life, you really felt like you were in danger. The sting of your palm was hard to ignore now, the blood nestling into the lines on your palm, dots littered across your pant leg. Once you felt Martin's grip loosen lightly, you put all your weight behind you and shoved him as hard as you could, causing him to fall backwards. You bolted for the door, keys forgotten as you ran at a speed you didn't know you were capable of.

The fall did not deter him for long, as you heard your name in Martin's deep, agitated voice carry to your ears on the night air, accompanied by heavy, fast footsteps. You were being chased. Heart racing, your feet slammed against the pavement, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. Your throat started to tighten with anxiety, fight or flight now in full control. You didn't even know where you were going. You took whatever turn felt natural, willing yourself not to turn around.

Martin realized with every step he took that it was too late to turn back. There was now street camera of him chasing you shirtless through the streets of a Barcelona neighborhood. He wasn't even sure why he had done it. By it he meant the chasing - not the sleeping with other women. That part was quite simple. He was 24 now, and it was time he was photographed with the same girl more than once. His club going days had become the topic of every family dinner and every call with his mother.

"Martin, when are you going to stop going to the club every night and actually bring us a nice girl? You're ruining your reputation by taking all these different girls home."

He was nothing if not a boy that wanted to make his mother happy. When he say Angelika in the club that day, he sensed he had been getting close. She was funny and outgoing and actually had a job that didn't involve her sponsoring Bang energy on the internet. But she was still at the club on a Tuesday night, and had flirted her way into the VIP section. Too high maintenance. But then as he left the club, pretty young drunk thing slung over his arm, he got to see you.

Initially, you didn't make a huge impression. Boring looking and kind of loud - not the girl he would usually go for. He was still a little hazy from the club air, sweat and tequila still lingering in his lungs. He had just handed Angelika off to you, before he took a look at the back of your car. A few stickers were there, displaying the name of your universities, and a bright blue one that read 'ask me about ACL tears!'. It sparked his interest - not only that you could afford the car, but that you were obviously decently intelligent to be touting all these universities. It prompted Martin to ask for your number, just as a backup in case finding a "good girl" was harder than he thought.

It was, in fact, much harder than he thought to find a girl to bring home to his mother. All the smart girls tended not to give him the time of day, either taken or too busy. Pretty girl were too expensive and high strung - not what he needed. And those sweet girls that he found at the supermarket and the park? Most of them were ready to live the football WAG life, wanting to go public with him immediately. If there's one thing Martin was sure of, it was that he wasn't ready too commit to just one screw for any period of time. He had a rotation of girls in and out of his bed, shower, car - he couldn't just cut all of them off.

That's exactly what was on his mind when he saw Angelika in line for the club again. She was cute enough to take home that night, but girls usually didn't open up without some conversation. He can't remember how the topic turned to you, but Angelika gushed about how much she adored you.

"But she's just so busy. She's always so focused on work that she doesn't have much time to even process what's going on around her."

Getting you was quite easy after that. He had listened to girls long enough to understand how to keep them happy. It was the lack of instant sex that really hurt his pride. This was not the 1940s - he was not going to wait 3 months, taking a girl out and showering her with love, just to get some pussy. He would just supplement with other women. Ferran was often the person that would help him get girls, as they usually recognized the young Barca bench boy before they realized who Martin was. So they worked as a team: Martin supplying money and alcohol, and Ferran supplying girls.

It was when Gavi started to enter the picture that he, for the first time in his life, felt the angry weeds of jealousy take root in his throat. No matter what he did behind closed doors, you were his, not Gavi's, and it would be a cold day in hell before he let a love-sick teenager take his girl. Now he was chasing you down the street, 10 days before he planned to introduce you to his mother at Christmas, willing all the neighbors to stay away from the windows and ignore the eventual screams they heard from the street.

Your eyes focused, the adrenaline fog leaving your brain as you wildly scanned the street: this was Gavi's neighborhood. Identifying the houses, you made a sharp right turn and ran towards his house at end of the street. You prayed that he was still awake as you got to the door, banging as hard as you could, and yelling out his name.

"Pablo! Let me in! Get the fuck away from me!"

You watched as Martin slowed down, walking towards you cautiously with his hands in the air. He moved his lips to say something, but your heartbeat was in your ears, tears streaming down your face as you kept banging on the door. The slit across your palm seared with pain, and every pang circulated more fear through you. Martin was capable and willing to hurt you.

The door opened, and you caught a glimpse of Gavi's face. That was enough reassurance for your legs to give out from the effort, sobs still shaking your entire being as you fell into his chest. Your palms grabbed at his shirt, needing anything to ground you in reality. Gavi was not a large boy; Martin had 5 inches and 6 years on Gavi, which would make any betting man wary of the outcome if a fight were to break out. But none of that mattered to you. Gavi's arms were around you, holding you up and against him, and you felt safe.

Gavi tore his eyes away from Martin, who was shirtless and frozen in his walkway, to look at you. As he pulled you away from his chest slowly, he felt a warm wet spot spread across his shirt. It was too large to be tears. He wished he hadn't looked down to see the red spot darkening his t-shirt. Grabbing your wrists, he looked at the jagged cut on the skin there, still bleeding freely. Gavi hugged you closer into his chest, one hand around your waist and one by your head, hiding you in his shoulder as you continued to cry.

"What did he do?" He asked, voice tight and strained. You shook your head, crying harder, trying to gulp down any air to stop the light-headedness. You could not see or think straight, the questions too overwhelming.

"Pablito, just let me talk to my girl, and go back inside." Martin instructed, walking towards the two of you slowly, as a hunter would approach a deer. You clung onto Gavi tighter, a shrill 'No!' yelped against his skin, sobs coming back in full force. Gavi couldn't stand it. The blood in his veins grew hotter the longer he held your fragile form. He was quick to anger, but this was different. You had run to his house crying and bleeding because of the vile man you had been dating. On an average day, he was ready to go to blows because of a stray leg in a football match. This was more serious - more sinister. He had hurt you in ways Gavi couldn't fathom a man hurting any woman, let alone you. He turned over the idea of manslaughter in his head as he tried again.

"Please, y/n. Please tell me what he did. Because at this rate, I'm going to kill him. Y/n, please."

Gulping down breath after desperate breath, you muttered out what had happened to Gavi in the best way you could. You knew there was nothing you could say to get Gavi to just walk away, but you couldn't stand the idea of Pablo doing irreparable damage to his future on your behalf.

"Found him... cheating... took my... k-keys.. that's why m-my hand. But I'm-"

"Don't you dare tell me you're okay." Gavi put you down on the ground, resting your back against the wall before he stood. The edges of his vision were dark and red, and in that moment he swore he could have killed Martin with his bare hands. When would this man have taken enough? Martin had snatched you off the market, keeping you hostage in a crumbling, decaying relationship while Gavi fawned over you. Martin chipped away at you soul, dimming the once radiant light that enamored those you encountered. Martin made you insecure and self-hating, all while keeping a line of girls wrapped around his bedroom to fool around with as you chased your dreams. Martin had taken everything Gavi had loved about you and poisoned it, leaving the ashes of a bright young woman in his path. Now he would pay for it.

"Martin, give me her keys and get the fuck away from my property before I make your mother regret the day she lost her virginity." Gavi was seething, You looked up at his squared shoulders and tight face, and couldn't tell if the wisps of smoke emanating from him were real or not. You wanted to stand, block the warpath Pablo was on, and prevent the violence you knew was about to ensue, but your head and eyes felt heavy, keeping you firmly planted to the ground.

"Ay, Pablito, no need to be vulgar. Don't you think it's silly for you to be involving yourself in a little lover's quarrel at this time? Go inside and let me take care of my girlfriend." Martin took a step with every word he said, now less than a meter from Gavi, whose fists were curled and strained.

"Lover's quarrel? She's bleeding and had to run from you screaming. You've stolen her keys and now you want me to let you harass her further? Give me her keys and fuck off, before my patience runs out. Because I've been eager to bash your skull for weeks now."

Martin took another step forward, now on the same plane as you and Gavi. He locked Pablo's vision as he pulled your keys from his pocket, tossing them at your feet. You flinched at the noise scared to look up at Martin. Just the sound of his voice sent ripples through you.

"There, bonita. You have your keys back. Now enough of this nonsense and come with me." A fist curled into your hair and pulled you upwards, causing a scream to release from your throat. Gavi watched all of this happen in slow motion. He took two steps towards Martin, vision now fully red, and connected his closed fist with Martin's lower jaw. The accompanying CRACK could probably have been heard all the way in Madrid. The grip had disappeared from your head, and you used your last bit of strength to push yourself from the floor and run into Gavi's house, keys firmly in your grasp for protection. You peered through the window, catching Martin spit out a large glob of blood, more crimson dripping from his mouth like a dog drooling.

Martin wasn't provided much more time to recover as Gavi grabbed his collar, pulling him in once again, and again cracking him hard right beneath his eye socket. The delicate skin there split, and more blood oozed from Martin. It didn't bring Gavi disgust or joy. There was no space in his entire being to feel anything other than the need to protect you. Moving his grasp from Martin's collar to his hair, he hit him one final time, a bone split and a scream polluting the otherwise silent air of the Barcelona night. You thought to yourself, rather ironically, if the naked girl in his living room knew how to set a broken nose. Pablo pushed Martin to the ground, the older landing on his face sprawled across the concrete of the pavement.

"If you get up and you're not running, I'll break another bone."

Martin struggled to breath, the blood running away from his body in rivers, dripping onto the street.

"You little piece of shit! Just wait till I call the police! You'll be in jail until you're 70. You little cunt." Martin wailed, on his knees gripping his throbbing fractured nose. Gavi approached Martin, picking him up by the collar once again. It was quite a sight to behold: the younger and smaller boy lifting Martin off the ground, blood dripping from a broken nose on to Gavi's tensed forearm, as his hazel eyes conveyed murderous intent.

"In case the blood has already left your brain, allow me to remind you: the cameras saw you chasing a woman through the street. There is a decent amount of her blood on you and at your house. Everything from that moment on is self defense. And I can absolutely afford a better lawyer than you can, little boy. So best run and put some ice on that nose before you become more permanently deformed than you were originally." Martin was thrown to the pavement once again, cries of pain bouncing between the stone of the buildings. He picked himself off the ground, not daring to glance over his shoulder, as he hobbled back home.

Gavi took a deep breath, looking down at his hands in the light of the street lamp. It had been a long time since his anger was allowed to run wild. Usually there was a player (or 6) holding him back from blows. But that was football. Nothing was ever that serious in football. This was different. It was you. And as he entered his home, locking eyes with your huddled form by his couch, the thought appeared in his mind clear as crystal: you were someone he would kill for, and someone he would die for.

But now wasn't the time for such a confession. It was the time for Gavi to step up as your friend and provide you with comfort and support. He walked into the house and started to head for the bathroom before you called out to him.

"Pablo? Where are you going?" Your voice was small and fragile, like that of a scared child when the thunder got too loud. Keys still gripped tightly in shaky hands, you pushed yourself off the floor, and Gavi rushed to meet your stride, helping stabilize you as you stood. You were not close to fainting anymore, but the fear still pumped through you, making it harder to walk at more than a snail's pace. Eyes locking with Gavi's, you brought a hand up to rest on his bicep, squeezing it lightly to provide him with some reassurance that you were okay. Hand trailing down, you wrapped your fingers gently around his wrists, turning his hands over to look at his knuckles. The skin had cracked and burst from the impact against Martin's skull. Bruises bloomed on the high points, droplets of blood - owner unknown - littered his fingers and hand, the scarlet a contrast against his warm tan. As you ran a thumb over one of the open cuts, Gavi hissed, trying to pull away from your touch. You looked back up at him with tears welling in your eyes anew.

"You're hurt." You croaked out, not wanting to continue crying in front of him. He grabbed your hand, holding it against his as he rubbed over the drying cut through your palm.

"So are you. But we'll be okay." He smiled at you, and you could have sworn that there was an actual fist squeezing your heart in your chest. He pulled you towards the staircase with him.

"Come on, we need to wash our hands. You've taught me enough about infections to know we shouldn't wait much longer."

"I obviously haven't taught you enough, because for open cuts like this we need rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, not water."

Gavi stopped on the stairs, still gripping your wrist as his smile broke out, returning warmth to his face. Even when he had hit Martin, you hadn't feared Pablo. You knew the anger was residual, and he would never turn this harbored rage your direction. It had brought a few baby butterflies to your stomach, knowing that Gavi had thrown his tranquility and caution to the wind just to defend you. But this was the Pablo you liked the most: the one that smiled for you in a way that seemed to appear only when you were around.

"There you go, doctora. Putting that degree to use. I think I have a first aid kit in my room. The medics gave me one to keep after I got my second black eye." The statement, not meant as a joke, allowed a laugh to run through you, cutting through some of the lingering heaviness. You wondered if this experience would forever trauma-bond you to Gavi forever. But you knew subconsciously that Pablo was already bonded to you. You would never be able to look at the Barca crest or the dew on the grass or the chocolate milk in the store without thinking of Pablo. You would never be able to choose anyone else's contact at 2am to send a random text to, because you need Pablo to be the one to send the response. You knew in that moment that Pablo was going to be in your life forever.

Walking into his bedroom, Pablo peeled his blood-stained shirt off, tossing it onto the bed.

"You should..." Your sentence trailed off as Pablo faced you, shirtless with sweats hanging low on his hips, waistband of his boxers tight against the V of his torso. You had seen attractive men shirtless before, but something about it being Pablo, and the two of you being alone in his bedroom, made everything seem more charged and, for lack of a better term, sinful. He tiled his head in questioning, prompting you to finish your sentence. Clearing your throat, you looked at the shirt instead of Pablo and continued.

"You should put peroxide on that shirt now to get the blood out so it doesn't stain."

"I think getting some peroxide on your open wound is more important right now." He said, returning to his dresses to rummage around for his first aid kit. You stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure how to proceed. You didn't feel comfortable enough to sit on his bed, and though it would be weird to seat yourself on Gavi's floor. He turned back around, watching you scan the room and calculate if you should sit or stand.

"You're covered in blood." He said. You looked down at your shirt. You definitely had some splotches, but you wouldn't use the word covered.

"It's fine, I'll change when i get home..." You trailed off again. Your car was outside Martin's house, and there was no way you could possibly bring yourself to go back there tonight. Maybe Gavi would be kind enough to walk over with you in the dark.

"You're spending the night here. There's no way I'm going to let you be by yourself tonight. Let me get you something to change into." He said, moving past you towards the closet.

"Oh no, Pablo, it's fine. I should really go back to my place-"

"Why?" He asked, abruptly turning to face you. He walked towards you, and your heart rate picked up as he stood within your air space.

"Why do you need to go home? We are on international break for the season. I don't start training until next week. You just finished your finals, so you don't need to do anything tomorrow. And, more importantly, the only way to get to your house is to either go get your car from your psycho abusive ex and drive home at this time of night, which is not happening. Or for you to take a taxi home, which is also not happening. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He turned back to the closet, rummaging through his clothes before pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a La Masia t-shirt. Placing them in your hands, he turned back to his mission to find the first aid kit.

"The bathroom is through there. You can go and get changed and wash up. What's mine is yours."

Nodding, you shuffled towards the bathroom. The door was quickly shut and locked behind you, and you stared at yourself in the mirror. You definitely looked worse for wear, mascara smudged under your eyes, which were red and puffy from sobbing. You washed your face with your non-injured hand, thanking Pablo silently for owning a decent face wash. As you stripped off your dirty clothes, you couldn't help the images that flashed in your mind, and the thoughts that seeped through your subconscious. You remembered the daydreams you had for several weeks, bursts of his eyes and lips and hands, and thoughts of all the ways they could touch you. Your cheeks burned as you grabbed a washcloth, running cool water onto your skin to remove the sweat and grime lingering. You thought of that day on the couch, when you had finally entertained the idea of seeing Pablo in a sexually attractive light. Bumps raised onto your skin as you fully wrapped your head around the situation. You were in your underwear in Gavi's bedroom, only a bathroom door separating the two of you.

A part of you wanted to open the door - to present yourself to Pablo, physically and emotionally bare, and tell him your feelings. But what were your feelings? You felt safe with Pablo, supported, and able to be your authentic self. Was this a friendship that you had over committed to? Was Pablo treating you any differently to how he would treat Pedri or one of the boys? You pushed those feelings aside, slipping on his clothes, breathing the scent of his detergent in deeply. You took one last glance in the mirror, reminding yourself that you had a tendency to spontaneously combust when it came to relationships, and you wouldn't allow yourself to do that with Pablo. He was going to be in your life for a long time - you wouldn't accept anything otherwise - but maybe the role he was meant to fill was that of a close friend and never more.

You walked out and saw Pablo rubbing his bare chest with an alcohol pad, cleaning the excess blood from his chest. He had changed into some clean shorts, and turned to face you when he heard the door. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, taking in the sight. His shirt hung off your shoulders slightly, draped over your frame and covering your form in worn cotton fabric. His sweats hugged your hips, sliding precariously low on your torso and lose in the thighs, just small enough for them to not pool at your ankles. Gavi's mouth went dry as he stared at you. You crossed your arms over your chest, covering yourself with your folded dirty clothes. Gavi caught a glimpse of your bra in the pile. He had no moisture in his mouth whatsoever.

"What are you staring at, Gavi? Close your mouth you'll catch a fly." You said, trying to come across cool and unbothered despite the situation. He swallowed hard, trying to form a single sentence.

"They fit. I'm surprised." That was all he could muster.

"Me too. I thought everything would be too short on me." You teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Low blow, doctora. come help me with these bandages."

He sat on the floor with the first aid kit, and you joined him on the soft rug, protecting from the chill of the tile in December. You grabbed the different solutions and began cleaning his hands. His hands were rough and calloused to the touch, and you made a mental note to get him some lotion as a late Christmas gift. You moved slowly over each knuckle, cleaning the blood and bruises, gently moving your fingers across Pablo's skin. You heard gentle hisses at the burning sensation from the alcohol, but he kept his protests to a minimum as you worked.

It was easy for Gavi to distract himself from the pain when you were the one sitting in front of him. The burn of his hands was basically forgotten as he traced the curves of your face with his eyes. That familiar look of concentration settled into your features, warming Gavi's heart. You were coming back, in short bursts and fleeting moments, but everything he loved about you was still there. Try as he did, he could not prevent his eyes from moving lower, settling on his shirt draped over you. It was one of his most well-loved shirts - the one that he had gotten when he began playing for La Masia's senior team. This is when he started to bulk up, biceps and pecs stretching out the shirt, creating the baggy look he currently saw on you. The colors had faded from dozens of washes, and it was now pilling and threadbare - really something that should never see the light of day.

But here you were wearing it, and suddenly there was no article of clothing that had ever made a woman look sexier. The baggy fabric moved with you, and when you turned behind you to gram more gauze, it tightened against your bare chest, and Gavi willed himself not to focus on it. He couldn't - not right now. No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he couldn't describe what about it made the shirt look so good on you. It was just the fact that it was his shirt. You were in his house, in his bedroom, wearing his shirt. You were merging with his space, and in a way, becoming a part of his home. It was the closest you had ever been to being his.

You finished bandaging his hands, looking at your work, and making sure that everything was secure so he wouldn't lose the dressings in his sleep. Engrossed in the moment, you leaned down and kissed the top of Gavi's knuckles, pulling back before realizing what you did. You both stared at each other, mutually deciding it was best not to comment on what just occurred. You quickly cleaned and dressed your own cut, with Gavi's assistance, and once the bandage was secured, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. All the boxes were finally ticked - you and Gavi were safe and clean and dressed, and now your body felt relaxed enough to crash from the exhaustion of the day. Pablo noticed your eyes drooping, and moved off the floor, helping you stand as well.

"Let me go get an extra blanket." He said, moving towards the door. You followed him out of the room, and he turned to you, confused.

"Where are you going?" He asked, arm against the wall and blocking your path.

"The other room?" You said, phrasing it as a question.

"The guest room doesn't have a bed in it yet. My sister is helping me pick one out since she visits the most often."

"To the couch, then." You said, and Pablo's eyebrows scrunched together in frustration.

"You're not sleeping on the couch. You've had a stressful day to say the least. You're going to sleep on the ridiculously expensive mattress and get a good night's rest."

"Then where are you going to sleep?" You asked, heart skipping a beat at some of the possible answers.

"The couch. I want to give you your space. Let me go get that extra blanket - the top floor gets cold in the winter."

You grabbed his arm stopping him from continuing down the staircase.

"You're not going to destroy your back by sleeping on the couch again. You're about to get called up for the national team, and their physios suck. They will replace you with a 3rd tier player before they help you fix a dorsal muscle strain. You have to sleep on the bed Pablo."

"I don't actually have to do anything. This is my house."

You both stared at each other, the two of you unmoving on your position, and both ignoring the obviously solution to your argument. After a minute, it was Pablo who was brave enough to make the suggestion.

"We could always just... both sleep on the bed. If you're comfortable with that. We can made a divider in the middle and everything."

Blushing, you looked at the floor before responding.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Gavi got into bed, shirtless in a pair of shorts, and beckoned you to join. You walked slowly to the other side of the bed, crawling in and pulling up the covers, body stiff and muscles tense.

"I forgot to get the lights." You whispered quietly, making a move to get up. Suddenly the lights switched off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness, a weak ray of light filtering in from the half-moon.

"Expensive houses have a lot of pointless features, but this one is actually useful." Pablo said quietly, mentally kicking himself for making small talk about a light switch. He curled on his side away from you, uncomfortable but wanting to give you your own space, and let out a deep breath. You peered at Gavi, and then curled the other way, also in discomfort, but too scared to face him while conscious. It was too much. He was so close: enough to hold in your arms, to exchange body heat, to listen to his heartbeat and be lulled to sleep. But it was too much of a leap to take. It was too far out of your comfort zone, and you couldn't risk the delicate relationship with a desperate and ill-timed proclamation of... whatever it was you were feeling.

Pablo's heart hammered in his chest. Though it had been his idea, he had never actually thought it through. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder before, and he had survived, so he figured this experience wouldn't be that much harder. He was so sorely mistaken. The fact that you were laying an arm's length away from him kept his nerves on fire, and he couldn't even keep his eyes closed for more than a minute as the time. Despite the winter chill, his body was on fire, and the lack of clothing didn't help. You had just been attacked by your ex boyfriend, and Gavi wanted to hold you in his arms and protect you from the entire world. Patience wasn't his best trait, but he knew that it wasn't the time to ask you to be his. He needed to wait. He needed to be there for you right now

"Pablo?"

An hour after the two of you had settled, lights off and room quiet, you called out for him. Sleep escaped the two of you, and he turned over almost instantly when he heard you whisper his name. Turning to face each other, your eyes adjusted so that you could look at his features in the dark. He was beautiful. There was no denying how conventionally attractive Pablo was. But there were so many little things that enhanced his beauty, only visible from this close. You wished the moon would shine a little brighter so that you could look at the flecks in his eyes, and count the lashes fluttering above them. His features were relaxed, lids drooping and lips slightly puffed out. The scars and moles on his face were the only markings on the smooth skin, and you longer to run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes.

"Can... can we do something? To help me sleep? But then promise you'll forget about it tomorrow?"

Pablo swallowed hard for the nth time that night. He hesitated. There was no way he could promise to forget a single moment of this night with you, but he could control himself from speaking about it, and that was all he really needed to do.

"Anything."

You sat up in bed, moving quickly before your confidence evaporated completely. You moved in to the center of the bed, prompting Gavi to do the same. He moved slowly and warily, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you in the middle of the King-sized island.

"Lay down," You said, voice shaking slightly. You were terrified, but you knew that was the only way you would ever find rest before the sun came up. Pablo laid down, stiff as a board, half expecting you to make a desperate dash for the couch. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes before you laid down beside him. You turned on your side, resting a hand on Gavi's chest. Pablo's eyes widened as he finally processed what your request was. He raised his arm, draping it over your shoulders, allowing you to cuddle even closer into his side. Your head now laid on his bare chest, his hammering heart loud in your ear. He brought his other arm around you as well, resting his hand over yours on his chest. The two of you held each other close, seemingly for dear life, and finally sighed out in belief.

There was no way to describe this feeling. The feeling of you resting against Pablo, arms and legs tangled together, with his head rested above yours. Your hands together, occupying each others' air. There was no way to describe it except for right. There was no awkwardness or strained breathing anymore. There was relaxation and comfortable silence enveloping the two of you. The rest of the world faded away, and in that moment, Pablo could have sworn that he had ascended to heaven.

"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."

Gavi tensed so hard it set off a headache. He couldn't cry, not while you were in his arms. He had always been seen as an asset because of his skill, always being told how valuable he was in that respect. But you saw him as a person, and not only did you tolerate it, but you cherished it. You made him proud to be himself.

"You too, in ways you can't even imagine. Good night, y/n."

~

Despite the way it started, the international and Christmas break was rather uneventful. Your little "sleepover" with Gavi saw the two of you sleeping in until 1pm, a rare occurrence for the both of you. Usually you both had too much going on, both on the schedule and in your minds, to sleep for such prolonged times. Wiser minds might have stopped and questioned why being in each others' arms brought a wash of such immense peace, but alas. There was no such reflection. Only waking up in the middle of the day, exchanging awkward smiled before getting up to change. Gavi had awoken with your leg draped across him and half an erection, causing him to bolt for the bathroom when you turned to check your phone. He wanted to say something - anything - about the night before. But he had promised to "forget", sealing his lips until further notice.

He turned the shower to the coldest setting, trying to stay silent as he killed his hard-on in the least loving way possible. You took the opportunity to slip into your sweats from the night before, and putting Gavi's t-shirt back on. Yours still had bubbled blood from the events and peroxide of the previous night. As you sorted out your hair, Gavi emerged from the bathroom, towel slung around his hips, showing off his toned chest and deep V once again. You lifted yourself and turned to face the wall, looking up at the Lord through the ceiling and asking why you were being faced with such temptation.

"Don't look." Pablo instructed, and you heard the towel thud to the floor. It make your cheeks burn and you crossed your legs tightly. You tried to think of anything else to stop yourself from taking your medical history with Gavi and constructing a complete mental image.

"Pedri is going to ... do you want a clean shirt?" Gavi asked, now in a clean sweatshirt and jeans. There was something about seeing you in his clothes that made him borderline insane. He couldn't tell if he needed you to stop, or needed you to do it every day.

"Oh, no, this one is fine. Thanks again - I'll wash it and return it as soon as I can."

"You can keep it." Gavi replied, turning back to his closet. The last thing he needed was to become aroused whenever he saw the folded shirt in his house. He grabbed a sweatshirt and tossed it to you as well.

"Are you donating clothes to me now? My salary isn't that bad, Pablo." You laughed out as you caught it.

"It's December, doctora. You should know that it's not great to go out in the cold. Your hoodie is still in your car, so wear this for now. Speaking of - Pedri is on his way over. He's gonna drive your car back to your place, and we'll take his. That way you never need to go near that dick's house again."

You slipped the green sweatshirt over your head, and were instantly attacked with the smell of body wash and cologne. Gavi had worn this recently. You brought the sleeves up and took a deep breath again before rushing downstairs to follow Gavi. It was a one time occurrence - you wouldn't allow yourself to get close to Pablo like this again. You were coworkers, first and foremost.

The two of you climbed into Pedri's car, you in the driver's seat and Gavi in the passenger, fingers trembling as you took the familiar turns. You stopped about a block away, dropping Pedri off, and driving off to the café the three of you had agreed to meet at to avoid any chance of being followed. You made idle conversation with Gavi, the two of you feeling the obvious tension. Pedri brought you your car, and you left the boys, giving them both a quick hug goodbye before going home to process the insane 24 hours you just had.

The boys were headed back to Gavi's to pack before heading to Madrid for national team training. On the way home, Pablo bounced his leg, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows more than usual.

"Hermano," Pedri started, "whatever you need to say, please just say it."

"But I'm not supposed to."

"Then stop with the fucking anxious ticks! Either speak or stay silent, but don't drive me crazy. It's a long day." Pedri ended his scolding with a light laugh. He knew Pablo better than anyone, and could tell it was only a matter of time before the younger boy started to spill his guts. Gavi wanted to stay strong, holding the promise he made to you extra close to his heart and his honor, and picked up his phone to pass the time. He opened up his twitter, refreshing the feed.

"Oh fuck. I'm in trouble."

Yes, the break was rather uneventful. You filled your time with studying, revising medical plans, and watching the international matches on TV. You tried your best to stay inside to avoid seeing anybody. You were still mourning the end of your relationship with Martin. Despite the confirmation that Martin was borderline clinically insane, it still weighed heavily on you, day by day, that you had once again been cheated on. That you had once again molded yourself into the absolutely closest thing to perfection, and had again fallen short. The winter weather also made you more lethargic, less keen to go outside and interact with others. And finally, you were terrified of anyone on the street recognizing you.

In hindsight, you should have made Pedri just walk and get your car. Or you should have waited until you knew Martin wasn't home and done it yourself. Because the thing about Pedri's lush green mini Cooper was that is was one of the most recognized cars in Spain, and so girls would flock to every single one they saw. His car had been posted enough for the most dedicated to have the license plate committed to memory. So driving around in such a recognizable car with the most sought-after footballer in Spain might not have been the best idea - especially during the day when the window tints weren't as effective. It took less than an hour for you and Gavi's pictures to be circulated around fan accounts, with people commenting on everything. The fact that you were driving, the hoodie you were wearing, the way that Gavi looked at you- the list was endless.

It took another 4 hours for people to figure out who you were. @gaviraconcubine on twitter had thankfully recognized you as one of the physios from game clips, and informed the rest of the rabid mob. Some had been satisfied with the answer, while others believed this an even more damning piece of information.

@gaviraconcubine: ok so the girl Gavi was with in the car is one of the barca physios - all the squad follows her + some shots of her on the field ! Gavi nation we're safe ;P

4,788 Likes 2,003 Retweets 834 Replies

@barcabarcabarca : guys shes literally a staff member???? gavi cant talk to female staff now wtf

@mrspgavira : if he ignored all of us to fall in love with the first ugly ass girl he bumped into at work ill take a swim with a toaster

@88rizzing : so she just started w barca this szn and got gavi? alexa play mastermind

@loonastansbrazil : more drivers for gavi!! she too old to be his girl

Barca staff were on public record, and so by the end of the day, your social media, school, and entire life history had been published on social media for people to scrutinize. It had sent you spiraling, suddenly being at the center of extreme amounts of attention from teen girls and 45-year old Barca stans alike.

[Pablo]: hey

[Pablo]: im rlly sorry about all the stuff online

[Pablo]: it should all die down soon. will be done at 9pm and I can call you

So that's what you did. Cook, clean, study, watch football, and get in disguise if you ever needed to go out. You spent your evenings chatting with Gavi. First it was about the media circus that you two were going through.

"It'll die down eventually. I'll stand too close to another girl and then everybody will leave you alone."

"Or accuse you of being a cheater."

"Has enough time passed for us to make cheating jokes?"

But as your fears started to ease an your mentions dried up, the conversations went back to the casual, playful tone that always filled the air whenever you and Gavi conversed. It was easier to talk to Gavi than it was with anyone else. You still spoke to your other friends, checking in on Angelika periodically over text, but no one could fill an hour FaceTime call like Gavi could, making it feel like mere minutes. Often, the two of you were both lounging, you on your couch and him in whatever hotel bed the national team had provided. As the days went on, you grew more comfortable answering the phone sans makeup, showing the most natural parts of yourself to who was shaping up quickly to be your closest friend.

Returning to work after the break may have been harder than the break itself. The office was abuzz with the rumors about you and Gavi. For the first few days, you ignored all the chatter. You had seen enough online to know that not knowing was always better. You didn't care what anyone said about you, as long as you proved you were an asset to the team. That is until Antonio came into your office one day with a sealed envelope. He was finishing up with some loose ends in Barcelona, before making his way to the UK to start in Manchester after the January transfer window had closed. He walked into your office, a large manila envelope in hand, and placed it on your desk.

"What's this?" You asked, peering at it from behind your glasses. Antonio was not one to make jokes or pull pranks, so it confused you to see him now, giggling in your office like a school girl.

"Oh this? Nothing important. Just a backup plan. Now it's my turn to ask the questions." He said, coming around and sitting atop your desk.

"Is it true that you're sleeping with Gavi?"

~

It had been a long time since you had seethed with this much rage. First, shock and embarrassment flooded your veins, freezing you in place, leaving you like a deer in headlights before the question. Antonio's ringing laugh is what pulled you out of your trance. You quickly denied the rumor, stating that you and Gavi were friends, but everything remained strictly professional.

"We heard you went to his house after the last home game before the break, and didn't leave until the following day, and wearing his clothes as well! You don't have to lie to me, I won't tell Dr. G or Xavi. So how was he?"

You promptly instructed Antonio to get the hell out of your office, and you made a move to head to the practice field. How dare Gavi: tell people you slept together when you did nothing of the sort. Well, you did something of the sort, but not in that way! Your job was already in jeopardy as it was, and it didn't help your case to be allegedly sleeping with one of the players. Talk about acts that increase favoritism. As you turned to corner to head to the field, you were met with a hard chest instead. Looking up, you saw the one face you had been trying to avoid all week: Ferran.

"My favorite little nurse. I haven't seen you since before the break. How have you been?" His arms were crossed over his chest, smirk and arrogance across his face. He blocked your path, and you sighed before responding.

"I don't have time to chat, Ferran. I was headed to the practice field to speak to-"

"Gavi? Yeah, I don't think so. My hamstrings need work. You're coming with me."

You followed closely behind, annoyance bubbling in your throat as you followed Ferran to your office. He laid on the examination bed as you closed the door, using the small sink to wash your hands, and donning a pair of clean gloves as he rolled up his shorts and laid on his stomach.

"So sad to hear about you and Martin, y/n. You two really did make a cute couple. I saw him at the end of the break - he's really looking quite worse for wear."

Uncapping your athletic salve, you started working the mixture between your fingers before moving to Ferran's thigh.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're a cheater. Usually quite a deal-breaker in a relationship."

You had resolved no to speak to the striker on your table, knowing that everything he said would only egg you on further, creating more opportunities for you to slip up and be unemployed. But there was something in you that Martin had broken, no, stolen, that made staying silent astronomically more difficult than it had been. So your tongue release from your cheek quicker than you could process, and you steeled yourself once again to work on his legs. What were his legs even tired from? It's not like he was playing regularly.

"You know that there's more than one way to cheat on a person, right?" Ferran questioned, folding his arms to get more comfortable on the table. You shifted your eyes to look at him, one brow raised in confusion. Your lip curled up in disgust, and again your found yourself speaking without intention.

"I don't want to hear about all the different ways he cheated on me. I know you two are friends or whatever, but I'm not interested in the rest of his dirty laundry."

"I'm not talking about Martin. The other cheater in question is you."

Movements slowing, you locked eyes with Ferran, who held your gaze with confidence - like he was holding all the cards, and you were none the wiser.

"I didn't go around sleeping with other people while I was in a committed relationship." You deadpanned, not enjoying how the morning was progressing.

"Right, that was Martin - how unoriginal if you both did the same thing. He went around and slept with a couple other girls to satisfy his base desires. It's bad, but what you did is much worse, little nurse."

You tore your gaze away from Ferran, working his legs with new vigor, restraining yourself from just grabbing onto the flesh and squeezing until he screamed out in pain.

"This is not a professional topic of conversation and you shouldn't bring it into the workplace." You replied, but your voice had started to waiver.

"Oh yes it is, because it revolves around one of your coworkers. While Martin was out working and training an doing other things - or other people - you were also being unfaithful. Sure you didn't sleep with someone, but you were in a 'committed relationship', as you put it, when you started to fall for Pablito."

You pulled your hands away from Ferran like he had spontaneously combust, running from the flames. The look of bewilderment was not one you could suppress in that moment. Your throat had gone completely dry, but you knew the longer you remained silent, the more Ferran would interpret it as a confirmation of his theory.

"That's - it's not true. Gavi and I are coworkers, friends if you really want to push it. It's highly inappropriate for you to assume otherwise. Look I know you want me to lose-"

"Lose your job?" Ferran laughed callously. "Oh no, hermosa. I love seeing you run around here in those tight scrubs, hair pulled back - you're like my own personal masseuse. I just hate when some people get special treatment. And you and Pablito haven't exactly been subtle."

"There's nothing going on between-"

"Bullshit. What kind of employee is willing to come in early and work unpaid hours for just another member of the squad? He's the only one with your personal number. You drive him home after practice. Everyone knows that those hours he spends locked away after national team training, he's talking to you. For fuck's sake, you hadn't even been broken up with Martin for a day before you spent the night at his place!"

Eyes locked with the floor, your breathing quickened as Ferran's words too root in you. Did everyone think this way? Was it a common assumption that you harbored "special feelings" for Gavi? He continued without allowing you to recover.

"So you can get on your high horse and spew your woes about how your boyfriend slept with someone else. But you let little Pablito get access to the deepest, most intimate parts of your soul, and despite having a boyfriend, you let yourself love him. You let yourself love Gavi the night you watched him throw up outside the club, young and stupid and delirious, and yet you let Martin think he had a chance to be your man, your one, your soulmate. That's what most people would call emotional cheating. And it still makes you a shit person."

Your temples pounded, headache coming on from the lack of air in your system. You couldn't do anything, couldn't move, couldn't process the information being thrown at your brain. Had Ferran been present that first night at the club half a year ago? Had someone else remembered you, recounting the details to everyone involved? Did Gavi know that you were there, and had seen him in that state? Antonio's question from earlier flashed in your mind, and though you had assumed Gavi's lips had gotten loose, the real culprit was sitting in front of you buttered like a turkey. Everything else would have to wait - because you might lose your job if you didn't get this question answered.

"Have you been telling people I slept with Gavi?" You asked, the pain in your voice clinging to every word.

"I haven't been telling people anything that isn't true. I may have mentioned to a couple of the second-team players that you and Martin had broken up. I may have also mentioned that when I went to console my physically and emotionally battered friend, I watched you and Gavi leave his house, together, and you were in his clothes. Well, I didn't really need to provide that one, did I? The pictures are everywhere. And maybe there was a thing or two about how Martin has always been wary of Pablito, who seemed to always go out of his way to be at your beck and call. People connected their own dots."

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" You asked, voice desperate as you ripped of your gloves, coming around the table to face the slippery eel that was Ferran Torres directly.

"Why can you not stand the sight of me so much that you need me to lose everything I've worked for my whole life?"

The smirk was glued to his face, and the mal intent in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"Just because I like watching you squirm. And if they fire you, it's no worry to me at all. The team managers are already embracing this 'diversity' thing, so another bubbly, bouncy little thing in scrubs will be in swiftly to take your place."

Ferran got up, readjusting his training uniform and making his way to the door. You couldn't speak. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball behind your desk. The entire staff thought you were sleeping with Gavi, and the thoughts spiraled onward. Did they think that's why you hadn't gotten fired after Ferran's complaint? Did anyone think you were qualified beyond just a toy for one of the players?

"I would steer clear of Gavi, hermosa. No more late drives, no more sleepovers. Rumor has it, word's gotten all the way up to Xavi. Would hate to have to give him confirmation that you two are more than friends. Because then you'd be looking for physio jobs in the village football teams."

"But we're not." You replied, voice strained and broken.

"Then keep it that way."

~

Since Pedri's nonexistent project with Adidas had ended, he was back to giving Gavi rides. It's not that he minded - the younger boy was always talkative and good company. But It was the waiting around that made Pedri want to scream. For the entire time they had been on international leave, you were the only thing Pablo thought about and spoke of, filling any silent moments sending messages to as a precursor for your nightly calls. Pedri was mistaken in thinking this teenage lovesick behavior would cease once they returned to Cam Nou.

Every day after practice, Gavi would move at the most glacial, snail-like pace just to time his exit with yours, accompanying you on the walk to your car. Today was no different. As Gavi took his time in the locker room doing Lord knows what, Pedri caught a glimpse of you speeding down the corridor. He wanted to greet you, to ask if you were okay, but he couldn't get the words out before you rushed past him. He turned into the locker room and yelled at his passanger.

"Hurry up hermano! She already left!"

[6 Missed Calls]: Gavi

You ignored the buzz of your phone on your table as you curled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. It was beyond what you could bear. You had sacrificed so much throughout your life to get the "dream" you were supposed to be living now: perfect life in a perfect city, with your perfect job and perfect friends. But all of it had been set ablaze. Your apartment had never felt lonelier or colder, as you looked at the chairs that had never been used, the floor that only you walked on. Since leaving America you found yourself with few to no friends. You never went out or saw anyone, dedicating yourself to excelling in your program. The only friend you ever had over was Angelika, and even she had not graced your home for weeks upon weeks. You had isolated yourself from everyone to make sure you were perfect at work - never tired or hungover, never a thread or hair out of place. Now you were friendless and single, curled up on your couch, cursing every decision you had ever made.

The last person you wanted to see or speak to was Pablo. Pablo, who had entered your life so suddenly, and taken up residence in your brain and heart, was the sole common thread between everything crumbling around you. You willed yourself to be angry with him. You tried your hardest to blame him for every misfortune that had come your way. Your lack of friends, many of whom distanced themselves when you started working for Barca under a perception that you were "too good for them". Your waning relationship with Angelika, which began when Pablo started to tunnel his way into your life, consuming more and more of your time. Your failed relationship with Martin, which was perfectly stale and stable before Gavi showed you what it was really like to be made a priority. The current precarious state of your job, it was his fault, because of his consistent fighting with Ferran, which provoked him to file his empty complaint.

You wanted to curse Gavi and the day you had met him, but you couldn't do it. You couldn't bring yourself to even have an ill thought about Pablo. All you could do was curse yourself. You had known deep down for so long how you really felt. From that night you spoke to him in the club, identity yet unknown, but all his vulnerability on display, you had known that there was something pulling you into his orbit. You had known that the hoops you jumped through for him were special, and not inconveniences you would shoulder for anyone else. You had known when you searched for him on the field, in your contacts, in your subconscious that no one would ever bring you this much peace. His eyes, his words, the energy that radiated from him were rarities, seen once in a lifetime, and often squandered by those to late to grab them. And so you sat on your couch, tears pouring down your face as the realization enveloped you, too great to hide any longer: Pablo Paez Gavira was your best friend, and you were heart-achingly, soul-crushingly in love with him, but you would never be able to do anything about it.

Gavi had given up after 6 missed calls and 18 unanswered text messages. He knew that you would call him when you were ready to do so, but the anxiety gnawed at him nonetheless. He couldn't stand the thought of you upset, and would move heaven and earth just to make sure you were doing fine. He was currently checking his phone for notifications ever 30-45 seconds, leg once again bouncing - much to Pedri's dismay. The two of them, accompanied by Alejandro and Eric, were at a restaurant catching up with some friends. Gavi paid no mind to anyone. He was too preoccupied to engage in idle conversation. Rather, he just wanted to hear the sound of your voice -no , your breathing even, to calm his worries.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the screen. A short blond stood before him - one of Eric's friends - and she spoke directly to him, asking questions about his age and if he also played for the club. Unhappy with the interruption, Gavi gave quick and curt responses, trying to avoid a prolonged conversation. This did not deter the girl, who introduced herself as Jacinta, from getting Gavi's undivided attention, as she sat beside him, legs pressed against each other, and rested a hand on his thigh. Before he could react, he heard the gasp of his name, swiveling around to find several teenage girls huddled by the front of the restaurant, phones out and whispering to each other. Gavi had lost his appetite, excusing himself and taking a taxi back to his, checking his phone frequently as he prayed for you to give him any indication that you were alive.

Your phone rang once again, and the tone echoing through your apartment was one you welcomed eagerly: Angelika's. You had not heard from her in the last month, trying to give her enough space to do her work, while still reminding her you were there for support.

"Angelika! It's so good to hear from you."

"I'm moving to Paris."

Your face fell as you turned the words over in your mind.

"You're...what?"

You sat up on the phone, listening to Angelika explain how she had impressed her colleagues, being promoted to their Paris office to work on more couture and avant-garde looks. She gushed about what an amazing opportunity it was as you tried to stop yourself from throwing up. How was it that you were losing everything in your life all at once.

"That's so amazing, Ange."

That was all you could muster, deciding to be a good friend and leave your worries and fears to the side, letting her bask in the triumph of her accomplishment. You responded with how proud you were, how much she deserved this, and how you knew she would do amazing things.

"Does Gavi have a girlfriend?"

The sudden mention of Gavi's name alone was enough to knock the wind out of you, but the context of the question really threatened to have you spill your guts on the rug.

"Not that I know of." You said, the feeling of dread dripping into your gut like tar.

"One of the Barca fan pages just posted a pic of him with some girl at dinner. Look I just sent it. I didn't know he was old enough to be getting girls like that. You two are friends, right?"

Your eyes were instantly drawn to the blonde girl's hand on Gavi's thigh. She wasn't his girlfriend. If anyone were to know that Gavi were in a committed relationship, it would be you. But this knowledge didn't help the wounded feeling that settled into you. You were home, pining after this little footballer, as he effortlessly flirted with other women. You were once again in pieces over a man that did not think of you the way you thought of him.

"Yeah, we're friends, I guess."

You would never be more than Gavi's physiotherapist and someone he occasionally sent Tiktoks to. Gavi was a deity in his field, a name that struck fear and respect in the hearts of the opposition. He was a symbol of the next generation of football royalty, and a man that could have any woman at his feet with a lick of his lips and a wave of his hand. This is what he was destined for: days in the spotlight, photographs with mysterious beauties, and a loyal fanbase that worshipped his every move. None of that involved you: an employee. Why would he want you? There was nothing you could give him that didn't come in a prettier package. He would never look at you as more than a friend, because you walked with the common crowd, and he was among the elite. Gavi could have any girl that he wants, and it was obvious he didn't want you.

You moved from the couch and walked to your table, waking up the computer that sat upon it. You glanced at the envelope Antonio had slid to you earlier, and thought about his offer. What did you have left? You typed a quick email to Xavi requesting a brief meeting the following morning, before heading to bed, trying to sleep away the suffocating feeling that clung to you.

~

Gavi was at your office door when you walked in the following morning, despite you arriving 20 minutes earlier than usual. His arms were crossed, face scrunched in worry, but his features relaxed when you walked to the door. He tried to help you with your belongings, but you refused. You exchanged a dry good morning before entering your office, avoiding his gaze. He asked how you were feeling, and if anything had happened the previous day. Eyes glued to your computer, you responded shortly, informing him that everything was fine and that you had a meeting with Xavi you needed to prepare for.

"Doctora, did I do something?"

You finally looked at Gavi, taking in his pained expression. It hurt in ways medicine understand for you to be freezing him out like this, and yet, all you could do was think about the image of Gavi coupled with Ferran's words. Was it worth it to risk everything for someone who would never be yours? You shook you head, informing him again that everything was fine. Everything was far from fine: you felt like you had been thrown off a cliff, your sense of purpose and direction and meaning in life shattered. But you didn't want to burden Gavi with this knowledge. So you stood and collected your folders, lips pursed tightly. You would just have to pretend that you weren't desperate to confess to Pablo that he was the reason that you breathed air, and that you were focused on your meeting and nothing else.

He was not satisfied with your answer. Gavi searched for your eyes, trying to understand what he could have possibly done wrong to get you to change on him so quickly - to become so cold. But you refused to meet his gaze, and he was left to his own theories. Had the rumors of you two together repulsed you from him? Were you unable to look him in the eye now that someone had put the thought in your head that you two could be more than friends? Had you finally decided you were too mature and good for him? He had chewed his lips and inner cheek all night pondering these possibilities.

"Please, y/n, if I did something, let me make it right."

"Gavi." Bad sign. You never called him Gavi when you were happy with him. Gavi was his official name in the team, the professional term you addressed him by. His stomach sank, and everything in him screamed to take you into his arms, not letting you go until he once again heard the sweet sound of "Pablo" drip from your lips like honey.

You wanted to grab him and shake him, scream at him, and cry into his shoulder. You wanted to tell him that there was no way for him to make it right, unless he was ready to have you, wholly and completely, never letting you go no matter the consequences. You wanted to tell him the only thing that could fix it was the one thing you could never ask for: his love.

"I need you... to stay away from me for a while."

Gavi could swear e felt his heart crack in two. What could he have possibly done? What heinous crime had he committed that made you need such a high degree of separation. He had been right there: he had you in his arms, laid on his chest, and heartbeat synching with his own. Now, everything was slipping through his fingers like fine sand, and he was watching you disappear before his very eyes.

"Not because I'm angry with you, but I just... need space."

Gavi could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, begging every power that be for this to be a cruel joke. But you continued to shuffle your papers, and the punchline never came. Before he could form a response, a knock resounded from the door, and Xavi walked into the office.

"Gavi, you're here early." He said, eyebrow raised at you in suspicion. The young footballer swallowed this hurt and his pride, clearing his throat to speak.

"Yeah, just came to get some more medical tape. Doctora y/l/n told me we have some in the locker room. I'll be going now."

Gave left your office, shutting the door behind him, but he could not move. He leaned against the wall, trying to fill his lungs with air, but the breaths he took didn't feel like enough. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he was reminded of his childhood, when the other boys would bully him and push him around the field. That was the last time he properly cried of pain. It was happening now, for the first time in 11 years, but this was a different kind of pain. There were needles pricking every inch of his skin, and he could do nothing except let the pain overtake him. What could he have possibly done to push you away?

He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of Xavi's voice through the door. He knew he shouldn't have been listening, but he needed to hear you. He needed to listen to you speak, hear the normalcy in your voice, if he ever wanted to move from that God forsaken spot in front of your door.

"-a little late notice. You should try and schedule further in advance for coming meetings." Xavi said. It was unusual for Gavi to hear you be scolded. When had you asked to meet him?

"I apologize, mister, but it was all some very late occurrences, and I didn't want to delay."

"Alright then, go ahead."

"As you know, we are about 10 days into the January transfer window, and while players are getting offers from all over, this is also the time when clubs try and change staff."

Pablo put a hand over his mouth to cover any sounds he made and prevent himself from vomiting. He didn't like where this was going.

"Yes, I'm aware." Xavi responded. "Antonio is leaving us during this window."

"Exactly. That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about. Antonio, as we all know, is a very talented physiotherapist and sports medic, meaning he got offers from a number of clubs. He received a position as head of physiotherapy at Chelsea, which he had to reject obviously to join Man City. Yesterday, he graciously got the offer forwarded to me."

"Miss y/n, please clarify your intentions. I am not very good at understanding subtext." Xavi laughed out.

"Yes sir. I'll be direct then: I am considering leaving F.C. Barcelona at the end of the transfer window."

~~~~~~~

A/N: guys pls don't kill me I'm sorry for the end (not rlly lol). I hope you all enjoyed what is officially the longest part of the series to date!! Got close to my 15k goal, but not there yet - maybe in the next part. My hands are actually cramping from all the writing this is borderline self-inflicted torture lol. Did y'all catch the subtle title/ lyric references? As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! Esp watching the way people think the story is going to progress because sometimes y'all are spot on and sometimes y'all are wayyyy off and I'm like "wait that would actually be a great plot for another series". Anyways love you all and hope you enjoy!! Part 8??? She's gonna be intense y'all.

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

*~*Taglist*~*

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

[redux-iterum]

How do you manage multiple projects? Like seriously you have verse, seekerquest, and redux and they are all amazing!

Also a side note but I get so freakin excited for new chapters every week, I absolutely love this series!

(Seeker and Verse)

Thank you so much for enjoying my projects! It's a very good feeling to have someone read and like all these things that are so precious to me. I'm just as excited as you are when I post a chapter (and another one's coming tomorrow, to my delight).

As for managing all of them...it's a number of things.

I have a lot of free time thanks to my job, which allows me to work on stuff for a large portion of the day. That's the most major factor - I can afford to be busy creatively all I want, which I know I'm extremely lucky to have as an option. If I were working a 9-to-5, I would not be able to do all of this thanks to how much that would suck out my energy and inspiration. So, blessed be my fortune there.

Besides that, I've figured out how to manage my efforts and time into a pattern. Three days of working on Verse (one day each of sketch, lineart, color), followed by a free day to rest, then back to Verse. Mind that Verse is specifically designed to be efficient and easy to draw/script, so when I'm done for the day I still have energy to do other things - largely, write for Iterum. On my off days, I can get an entire chapter written, but on Verse days, I have to limit myself to a smaller amount of writing.

There's also the fact that...well, honestly, I just really love doing this. It's my favorite thing in the world. It actively feeds me all of the happy chemicals when I'm linearting a page or I've gotten to a chapter I've been really excited to write, so it's something I spend a lot of time doing and feel happy about. Obviously, I have periods of time where I'm not keen to draw or write this particular part, but I've gotten myself disciplined enough to just power through those until I get to the fun bits. That's not to say I don't give myself breaks (no matter what my friends tell you), I just know when I need a break and when I need to be tough and get the thing over with.

I would say that, if I'm to give any advice on how to do two or more things at once, it's "learn your limits". How much effort can you put into multiple comic pages before it becomes too much work? How long can you work on a chapter of a fic before you're exhausted and crash for three days? Can you do a long animatic by yourself, or do you need support? Questions like that are essential to creating without killing yourself - and once you figure out exactly where you can settle down comfortably without giving too much or too little, the sky's the limit. Don't be afraid to take breaks, but don't be afraid to push yourself past that bit of dialog you weren't eager to write. There's a balance there, a sweet spot that you CAN find and will be comfortable in.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 8

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 7 🍂 Part 9

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Fluffy fluff fluff. Just... We're gonna get there, I promise.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Slowly catching up! @keanureevesisbae, here is another little fluffpiece!

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt

The last few weeks were spent putting the final touches on the rooms downstairs, and were filled with weekends hanging out with friends of Jules you’d never met before. Sy had spent half of every new introduction shooting you ‘I told you so’-glances, and you had been forced to admit you’d been wrong. Now, you and Julie were busy putting together a barbecue for everyone who had come to help. It was supposed to happen tomorrow, and it looked like all the work that needed to be done by then, was actually going to get done on time.

The past three weeks had been tough, but fun. You and Sy got along, nothing strange had happened, apart from the fact that you’d had to ask Julie to kindly shut up about how you were always smiling at each other. Sy had managed to convince her he had a handle on the situation. Not that it took much convincing, Julie had told you later, if a man like Sy said he had it covered, he had it covered. The problem was that she took it to mean he had it a little too covered, but Jules was always going to turn out to be delightfully annoying in some way or another. It was a huge part of the reason your friendship had survived for years despite the two of you being separated by an entire ocean. Jules annoyed you into living.

You and Sy had turned out to be a good team – when Sy wasn’t annoying you by convincing you to rethink certain decisions. Like painting the stairs, which was a conversation you replayed in your head quite often, and you still hadn’t been able to figure out just how he’d come out on top of that one.

“Sugar I’m serious, you can paint these stairs yourself if that’s what you’re gonna be doin’ to ‘em.” It had taken you the entire rest of the day to wrap your head around the fact that he was actually pissed about painting stairs.

“Why on earth does it matter, Sy?” At that point, you should have learned that it was a stupid question to ask, because you’d usually get a very technical answer that you only understood half of. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case this time!

“It’s beautiful wood, Sugar.” You were absolutely positive you’d never get used to anyone saying that. “Painting it would just cover up that grain and it would be such a waste. Just stain it, please?” He’d badgered you about that for over an hour. An hour. Finally, you’d ended up promising him to think about it, and somehow that had turned into a promise in his favor, along with a snarky comment along the lines of: ‘You and your wood have a good time, Sy.’

He hadn’t been able to complain about your choices for the kitchen. It seemed that you were on the same page when it came to the general aesthetics you were after, he was just a little more passionate about materials than you were. And you had to admit – in the end – that incorporating those authentic details into the designs you had in your head was a fun challenge that was already getting you some amazing results in your mind. At some point during the installation of your new, fully functional kitchen appliances – which you had been incredibly excited about… Another 200 housewife points for you… - you had been complaining about everything to Jules.

“He’s so insistent on these things,” you’d said. Jules had just started laughing, which had offended you until you heard why she was laughing.

“It’s your house, Lara,” she had said, and you’d had to agree – obviously. Why did you even care so much what he thought about the stairs or the stove or the fireplace? Why did you bother listening to him? Julie had listened to your rants with a big grin on her face, like she knew exactly why you cared so much what he thought about these details of your house. You had never told Jules that you and Sy had kissed – or about the weird things that happened afterwards – but you could tell she had a very decent idea of what had happened between you. You had managed to deduce this from the fact that the woman had practically started planning your wedding.

It had been annoying at first, but when she heard that your driver’s licence had finally come through and you were going out to look at a car, she’d become insufferable.

“Do I need to drive you?” She had asked with a mix of annoyance and excitement in her voice. It was one of her stranger combinations of speaking voices, but you’d grown accustomed to it over the years.

“No, Sy’s taking me,” you had replied, and Jules, on account of being Jules, had started freaking out immediately.

“You realise that’s the kind of stuff boyfriends do? The kind of stuff serious boyfriends do?” Yes, it had occurred to you that it was another extremely Sy-esque gesture that some people may have found extremely over the top for something that wasn’t exactly out of the casual phase yet, but it was Sy, it was sweet and he actually knew a thing or two about cars, so – you’d convinced yourself – it would mostly just be a good thing he was going to be there. As it turned out, it was a good thing, because that car you’d found was a bust.

The person who had actually found you the car that was currently in your driveway, had been… Sy. Who else? After the first one fell through, he’d just casually mentioned that he’d seen another ad, and he’d driven you down there. It had been absolutely perfect.

“It’s small, so you’ll be able to park it,” Sy had said, not even flinching as he caught yet another elbow to the stomach from you, “or even if you can’t park it, you won’t do much damage to your surroundings.” You had laughed at the remark, only feigning your outrage. You hadn’t had any reason to get mad; Sy hadn’t assumed you couldn’t park. He’d seen you do it – scratch that; he’d seen you try. That man had patiently watched you almost – almost – murder his truck and had even kept his mouth shut when you had started making excuses such as ‘car is much bigger than what I’m used to driving’ and ‘haven’t done this in a long time’, until you’d finally admitted that parking wasn’t one of your strengths.

“I’m not saying anything, Sugar,” he’d said to that - probably a wise decision on his part.

Eventually, the first floor of your house became a more or less functional space, even though it still felt a little temporary in nature. You were definitely not ready for that barbecue tonight, though.

“Hey, Sugar,” Sy casually flung an arm around your shoulder. You looked up at him, the question you weren’t going to ask him out loud in your eyes: ‘what?’. “You glad to be getting’ all of us outta your hair?” You hadn’t thought about that…

“Guess I’m not going to be seeing you around as much,” you said softly, “Can’t say I’m too happy about that. Glad to have the others gone, though.”

“You have my number, can always call me,” he said with a big smile spread across his face.

“Even when I don’t need something sanded, painted or hung?”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you if you don’t need something hung…” The grin on his face while he said it, the mischief twinkling in his eyes, the smugness in his voice… This man was entirely too much.

“Jonathan Syverson!” you shrieked as you elbowed him in the arm. “Yes, ma’am?” He still hadn’t wiped that smug grin off his stupid face. But he’d won, because you had absolutely fucking nothing to say in reply. You had actually found his dumb pun quite amusing and could barely keep yourself from laughing. It took you far longer than you cared to admit to work out that the completion of the first stage of your adventure in this house didn’t mean you would see Sy less – ok, it probably meant that, too – but mostly that you would be going on another date real soon. You’d get to touch him again. Kiss him again. See if he was lying when he just said… You tried not to think of that – you’d become relatively good at not thinking of Sy naked, even though your dreams had other plans with you and showed you another fun little scenario that had you waking up squirming and sweating and reaching for the top drawer of your nightstand almost every night…

[thedemonscrawler]

gonna procrastinate on writing by talking about writing woo

So, fun fact! Permission Slip is usually being written on two different documents at once, which should be but are not actually identical? And neither of them match the actual AO3 version you guys read?

1st Draft

The first draft is written with a combination of OpenOffice and Google Docs.

(I'll get to why that says Mobile Copy in a sec)

The OpenOffice document is meant to be the Master Draft of the fic. It's the entire story so far-- outline, notes, all the chapters written and the bits of chapters we haven't gotten to yet.

Yeah, it's lengthy. The reason it says 'Active Version' is starting around Chapter 5, I began saving a copy of the document up to the most recent chapter finished.

This is because of how I write scenes out of order, and having an older draft lets me go back for things that got rewritten. It's also really neat to see how various ideas evolved over the story, or how old some of the scenes are.

OpenOffice has the Master Draft, not just because it can handle it, but so I can put my laptop into airplane mode and write offline if I really need to focus. But the story doesn't stay there!

If you've seen the snippets I've shared, you know that sometimes they're highlighted in grey, like this:

(yeah you enjoy that snippet from Chapter 15)

The grey highlights are a system to tell myself 'this is a section that needs to be copied over to the other document', almost always a section I have just written that session. Feels good to have a whole page in grey.

So from OpenOffice, the grey sections are copied over to GoogleDocs, and become the 2nd Draft.

2nd Draft

..okay, so there are actually TWO GoogleDoc copies of Permission Slip. One of them is a 'master' version, just like the Open Office file. The other is the Mobile version. The master version has all of the chapters and outline and stuff, while the Mobile copy only goes back one or two chapters prior to the current one. Why?

Cos it turns out that when a document gets to be around 110 pages long, Docs starts being a little bitch and lags real bad on mobile, or starts crashing. So the mobile version was made so I could type on my phone. Same deal, new sections are highlighted in grey and copied back to the OpenOffice version when I'm on the laptop again.

Since the GoogleDocs version can be worked on from multiple locations, it's the one that gets the most edits. If there are substantial changes made they'll be copied back to the OpenOffice document, but minor edits aren't as crucial, and there are some sections that are pretty different between the two now.

From the GoogleDocs version on to the final(ish) version:

3rd Draft

The AO3 version should match the GoogleDocs version, and for the most part it does-- but not always. That last minute readthrough to catch all the spaces added after italics is also a time for minor edits. Missing words, dialogue rewrites, etc. There's one chapter that had a chunk written in the editor, but unfortunately I can't remember which one it is now 8'D only that it's between chapters 9 and 12. Naturally the AO3 version is the one you guys get to see.

Uuuuh yeah so. Overcomplicated system, go!

Also if you want a word processor for free, I recommend LibreOffice! Its based on the same open source software as OpenOffice, only it's actually still being updated and stuff (I still use OO just cos it's what I have 8'D).

Unfortunately I have yet to find a word processing app with cloud-based storage that can be edited from multiple devices, so I can't replace GoogleDocs with something better.

[giuliano-fan-account]

hxh Chapter 395: Founding: Part 1

Ohm yg od oh my god I love this chapter!!!!!!

So let’s get started

Spoilers... What else??

I’m deciding to use the viz translations since I didn’t review yesterday and they come out on sundays so yeaaa

Ok so we begin with Hinrigh who has Cracked The Code on the Heil-Ly base thing

They’re gonna go after those two guys and...... To be honest I don’t care if they end up dying!!!! Go ahead!! I forgot their names already and Togashi’s going to need to manage the like 60 new characters that he’s made this arc...

Man, I miss Kurapika and the Zodiacs and the Princes and Beyonds team... hm... 

Like these characters I love and all like Lynch and Zakuro and Tserriednich’s Militia people and Hinrigh but Man where did everybody else go????

Well good news is later this chapter we at least have the troupe!!

(Togashis trying to tell us to enjoy the little detours-- to the fullest)

Volksen ever. Apparently her officially translated name is like Bork something but Volk is a lot better in My opinion and people spell Giuliano like Juliano all the time so does it Really Matter?

Volk makes me think of a Volkswagen car and Bork makes me think she has an acidic reflux I’m sorry.

Also Otocin = Otoshin (doesn’t really matter to me) and Momolly = Momori (Momori is way cooler sorry so I will also be saying Momori) 

I also permanently associate Volksen with octopi now but that’s besides the point.

Anyways enough about the 6 People from last chapter let’s move on. 

Fun fact I still cant remember his freaking name What Is it Somebody please say It nobody has said it in the past 5 chapters and I’m confused but anyways. 

He says the Phantom troupe are checking out 3102 (next to the trap room 3101) because they think there might be a Hideout behind rooms 3101-3103 and of course they’re being insane about it, since to them it doesn’t matter if they have a plan or not. 

He’s been talking a lot about people being captured..... Togashi? Is this going to be another big theme??

He needs some water or some skin moisturizer or something He can’t be living like this dude look how dry that skin is...

Anyways they're threatening this guy to get in the room as you do.

I’m going to thank Togashi forever for visuals because without them in this arc I would be entirely lost.

I really don’t have any sympathy for this guy but Imagine if three guys just came into your room and then cut a hole in your bathroom.

I’m sorry but in this panel he looks so emo it’s... It’s the hair and the... The everything looks extra emo.

I love this conversation cause it opens new parallels between the mafia and the troupe, which Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga are already involved with and it gives some more insight, but also What is Nobunaga holding right now.

Is that like a ball of light or something

And why is it the only one there

Anyways enough of looking at random details its its

ITS FLASHBACK TIME

When I saw this page spread I kid you not I think I went crazy for a second. It’s a callback to the flashback in chapter... 102 (the panels were redrawn!!!!!!@2442454##$#%^$#)

I was right with Chrollo being the one on the left and Franklin being the one on the right closest to the tape, but I thought Shalnark would be the one sitting in front of the elder, and Phinks was the one running at the bottom..... However..

THE ONE WITH THE CURLY WAVY HAIR IS SHALNARK.......... (broken heart crying emoji /pos) 

God I love this Flashback Look at them all. Shalnark and Chrollo are my best guess at like 9 years old and Franklin is probably like uhh 16 or something.

Franklin has a Oldest-brother-that-is-cool-and-is-in-college-while-you-are-in-middle-school vibe which I’m not being super specific about you guys have to know what I’m talking about right.

Tbh this part felt a bit like I was on something but it’s ok it works out!

I love how they have Territory like its warrior cats. Like theyre those kids on the playground that would play warriors (definitely not me /s) But its taken to the actual extreme and they actually fight.

I’m guessing Uvo is also 16 but Puberty just hit him in the face with an iron bat. He’s like the Average bully archetype but also taken to the extreme because they live in a dump city.

Machi... She’s just... She’s like 5 or 6 years old oh my god she’s a literal baby actually... and she’s just handing Uvo a “Murder Weapon” they would probably call it. 

Baby Syanorke being a little smartass and then Immediately getting hit in the head with a plank of wood and passing out This was like the funniest part ever

Look at him tumble

...

Wait

.....

No...

NOOO.......

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOLY CRAP

...Anyways let’s move past that...

Fist fight Immediately 1 v 1

The low quality running of the little guy I can’t believe he’s a little guy

HELP ME THIS IS TERRIFYING WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT 

He is also Average bully archetype No. 2 but a different flavor for sure...... His hair looks like a walnut Phinks what are you doing.... 

Umm ok so Age guesstimate... the first appearance Phinks looks older and then he looks smaller in the other panel... So I’m gonna say he’s like 13 and Feitan... 

...

Yea I have no Idea let’s just say 13 as well.

Get wrecked. I only noticed the arrow now so hopefully you see it too now.

The little guy the little thief 

Meteor city civilization real

AGAIN WITH THE PEOPLE GETTING CAPTURED AND STUFF??

Ok so Basically 

Since Meteor city residents technically don’t exist since they don’t have any form of identification, that means it was legal to kidnap them, kill them, commit crime against them etc since they technically “weren’t human”...

A while later to prevent this, Meteor city allied with the mafia to be safe, but before that there were hundreds of victims and 70% of them were under 15.

Their ties with the mafia grew stronger, and Nen abilities came about the elders, and a pledge was made (The law of retribution): 

“Only life can compensate for a life.”

“We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us.” (a note left at the kurta massacre, if it rings a bell) 

And so with all this going on the Phantom troupe formed 12234543

PAKUNODA!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love her hair so much here its real 

This is so adorale im cyring .........

Ddue just became a part of the council at 9 years old I guess!

Tiny Just tiny little ones

POWER CLEANERS HELP 

MIGHTY SWEEPIN POWER CLEANERS

He also created dubbing wow /s 

IM CYRING AGAIN ........ So Paku must be like 8 or something but they have an Older sister Younger brother dynamic lol 

SHEILA?!?!?! You mean the lady in volume 0 who looks uncannily similar to Pariston Hill? 

...*snif* *sniffleef* eu......e.ue ,, 

Omg its Sheila and Sarasa... Sheila still has her silly rat ears...

I like Sarasa she’s a little silly and I wonder if she’ll be relevant too but as far as I know I dont remember her.

hehe im just imagining all of them just sitting down and watching a really badly dubbed but endearing episode of the power ra-cleaners.

D Hunter.... 

I live them that’s all I have to say

Oh god More human trafficking 

Even worse child trafficking... Yea this is going to be relevant 

And then It just skips back to them peacefully HELP 

To be continued!!! Yea nothing bad happening here totally

I’m guessing since the Title of the chapter is Founding: Part 1 that we’re still going to be in the flashback in part 2 since there’s still stuff that needs to happen.

I mean we still have yet to see 12 year old Nobunaga and what about the whole Council thing?? 

Oh god wait somebody may get captured during the screening NO 

And why is it called founding?? The troupe is officially founded I think when they’re like mm... I wanna say maybe 6 or 7 years older so maybe there’s a time skip idk.

Anyways keep being silly Goofer man Behave yourself.

(remember the hunter exam applicant form or wtv in the 1999 version well I wanted to draw them so here ignore the bad coloring and shading i made this at 2 am)