#I mean they have an appropriate and professional relationship

[no-144444]

lies and flights- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: you two have a moment, the moment ends, and so does something else...

part one | part two | part three | part four

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He sighed as he walked into the paddock, cameras all over him as question after question was thrown at him. He answered as many as were appropriate and off he went, signing hats and t-shirts as he went. He had so much to do, so much to get through before qualifying, yet all he could think about was you. He didn’t mean to make it a big deal, he just wanted to take care of you. You’d fainted, for god’s sake. He was worried about you. 

He caught a glimpse of you walking in with Lando as he was filming some random content for one of the sponsor's instagram pages, and his mood sank lower than it already had been. You with Lando. 

It’s not like either of you had confessed, but you’d both felt the chemistry between the two of you, right? He finished up with filming and followed Tom into one of the meeting rooms, ready to look over data, when he (literally) bumped into you, sending you flying. 

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered as he caught you, holding you by the waist. “My bad.”

You smiled. “Saving me two days in a row? You should be a bodyguard instead of a driver,” you chuckled. “Thanks Osc.”

Lando’s jaw dropped when he heard you call him ‘Osc’, and a sense of pride bloomed in his chest. Osc was getting the girl! Lando sent him a quick thumbs up behind your back as he also held the camera. 

“What’re you doing here?” Oscar asked, not yet letting go of you. His hands were so warm, radiating heat through your whole body and making you nervous. You had a love-hate relationship with interactions with Oscar. He made you so nervous, no matter what. Your years of media training and professionalism could get stripped back by one small chuckle, one small smile, making eye contact. It was embarrassing. You liked him so much, which was a separate can of worms itself, and he looked at you the same way he looked at everyone.

“Motorhome tour,” you explained, looking up at him. He could’ve sworn he saw something in your eyes, something that practically asked him to make a move, to kiss you here in front of everyone. Then it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, your professionalism taking precedence over your feelings. “Moving on,” you turned back to the camera as Oscar dropped his hands from your waist, allowing you to move on. “To the driver’s rooms!”

He chuckled as he watched you and Lando run towards the other side of the motorhome, and Oscar started walking again, not unaware of the eyes Tom was giving him. 

“You two seem close,” he smirked. “The shoes aren’t a dealbreaker, no?”

He laughed. “Why does everyone bring up the shoes?!”

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“Congratulations on P3, Judgy McJudgy Pants! How did the race feel?” you questioned. You were doing post-race interviews today, and Oscar had gone from P5 to P3. 

“Yeah, it was difficult but we kept a good pace, Max was just too fast to catch,” he nodded, his eyes staring into yours. 

“I’m glad to hear, are you glad for the race to be over?”

He nodded, chuckling. “Very glad.”

“The heat must be something else in those cars, on top of the regular heat. Does that make getting out of the car a lot more of a relief?” 

“It does, but I was more excited about the interviewer,” he smirked. He was not doing this right now. He was not flirting with you on live television. You got the signal that the interview should end and you let out a quick breath of relief. 

“Well thank you, but I in fact need to interview your fellow podium drivers, thanks for your time.”

Lando walked over, ready to take the mic and he smirked at Oscar. “Getting bold?”

He shrugged with a smile. “What’s the worst she can say?” 

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"Oscar Jack Piastri!" Nicole's voice rang out as he lifted his phone to his ear. "My son flirting with people on live television is not something I want to see."

He chuckled as he mother continued berating him, and they chatted about the race for a while, before he had to go to the airport. When he walked to his door, ready to leave, he wasn't expecting a knock at the door, nor was he expecting it to be you.

"Hey Y/n," he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good thank, you?" you were out of breath. Had you ran here?

"I'm great, thanks. Are you alright?"

You came in and closed the door behind you. "What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?"

"The interviews, the pictures, everything. What are you doing?" you questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" he chuckled. "I like you, like, like like you. I thought I made that clear?"

You grimaced and his heart sank.

"It's fine if you don't-"

"Oscar, no, just... it's kind of awful timing and we can't be together, right? That would never work, we hate each other, right?" you rationalised, willing him to agree with you.

As much as he wanted to scream and rip his hair out, he nodded, a flat smile on his face. "Exactly, that's why I was just joking."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" you chuckled. "Well, congratulations on the win and I'll see you in Qatar, thanks Osc."

"Bye," he smiled half-heartedly, then flung himself back on his bed when you left. You didn't like him back. And what did you mean by 'bad timing'? He spent his entire flight, awake and wondering about what you meant, and thinking over every interaction, wondering if he'd really just made it all up in his head.

But the way you looked at him, it couldn't just be platonic, right?

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charlesleclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,928,733 others

yourusername: @.f1, you've been my home for many years and I love you, thank you for starting my career, but also for being my favourite series of motorsports since I was a little girl. But now @.skysports is branching out and I'm moving across the pond at the end of this season to cover @.Indycar and @.nascar ! I'll miss everyone so much, but I am so so so excited to see that the future will bring! 6 races left! (also sad to be missing the historic season that 2025 will be, but oh well!)

comments

user83: oh I'll kms.

pierregasly: we'll miss you xxx liked by: valterribottas, zhouguanyu, landonorris, danielriccardo, charlesleclerc, carlossainz, alexalbon, francocolapinto, liamlawson, yukistunoda, estebanocon, fernandoalonso, jensonbutton, aussiegrit, kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenburg, lewishamilton, georgerussell, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, isakhadjar, paularon, arthruleclerc, lancestroll, checoperez, maxverstappen, alexandrastmleux, kikagomez, lilymhe, rebeccadonaldson.

skysportsf1: We'll miss you most! xxx

tedkravitz: It's been a privilege and an honour to work with you. You truly are the funniest person I've ever met. Your segment on Ted's notebook will be thoroughly missed. You will be thoroughly missed.

charlesleclerc: Bonne chance mon amour! ❤️

yukistunoda: who will organise interviews with me and pierre now? 😿 -> yourusername: I'll ask ted :(

danielriccardo: legend of the sport :) -> yourusername: looking in a mirror are we?

mercedesfmg: we'll miss you y/n! 🩵

mclaren: missing you already! 🧡

user72: guys... has anyone told oscar? -> user21: he must be so upset :( -> user92: yeah his best friend and his crush leaving F1 in the same year.

stakef1: missing you 💚 -> yourusername: manifesting hulkenburg podium next year

lewishamilton: I'll miss you, but you definitely have to come back for some hot laps... maybe Austin next year? -> yourusername: I'm there :)

maxverstappen: sad to see you go, but i can't wait for all the stories :)

landonorris: FUCK I'M CRYING WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS YOU TOO MUCH PLEASE DON'T GO -> yourusername: IT'LL BE FINE LANDO YOU'RE A BIG BOY

patooward: YAY WE GET Y/N!

haasf1team: our favourite interviewer ever ❤️

alpine: missing you loads 🩷

jackdoohan: NO I'M FINE THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS MISSING MY ROOKIE SEASON -> yourusername: I'LL BE IN MELBOURNE AND AT THE LAST FEW RACES!!! -> jackdoohan: ...forgiven.

liamlawson: NO DON'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE -> yourusername: JACK WILL BE THERE NEXT YEAR CALM DOWN

kimiantonelli: miss you xxx

olliebearman: will be in need of your smoothie recipe since you won't be here to make it :( -> yourusername: I'll send it to you :)

user829: someone check on oscar rn...?? -> user36: fr he's probably sobbing his celeb crush is leaving the paddock for good ->user292: BRO IS IN THE LIKES !!!!!!

redbullracing: we'll be staying tuned to watch shine -> user88: wow a better send-off than daniel got lmao

logansargeant: CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN 😁😁😁😁 -> yourusername: ME NEITHER

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He stared at his phone in shock.

What. The. Fuck.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two | part three | part four

[softquietsteadylove]

I’m glad you liked the idea!! The result was so perfect and sweet as usual. Here’s another if you’re interested/have muse! Words: curiousity, animals, whispering

Gil gulped, trying to focus on plating more appetizers as the guests mulled about. For the most part, they were scattered around the rest of the sprawling estate, but some of them had gravitated towards the kitchen naturally out of eagerness for the next round.

And they kept whispering.

He couldn't make out what they were saying, of course, but Gil knew when he was being whispered about. He had grown up as a husky but strong boy who loved cooking, he was no stranger to feeling like an animal in a zoo. But the scrutinising glares of a couple dozen millionaires were more than enough to put him on edge.

He dabbed at some sweat on his forehead and heard a giggle behind him. He was glad he had the steam and stove and various other heat sources to blame for the flush in his skin. Clearing his throat, he turned with the platter in hand. "More hors d'oeuvres--canapes with cavier and brie crostini with blackberry and prosciutto."

"How delightful!"

"Wherever did Thena find a specimen like you?"

"I simply must get the recipe to my own chef!"

Gil just smiled, setting down the platter for them to maul at will. He slipped backwards, eager for the refuge of the inner kitchen again. When Thena had described this as a 'monsters' ball' of a soiree, she wasn't kidding.

She had warned him that the guests were technically allowed wherever they wanted to be, including his own space, as much as she wanted to discourage it. There were also warnings about how rude they could be, even if the words were polite, as well as not to let any of them subtly try to poach him from her.

As if that were possible; he had no desire to work for anyone but Thena.

Only a few more hours and it was over. Even if there were still guests lingering, Thena had made it very clear that he could leave after 11. It was pretty sweet, all things considered. It wasn't uncommon for the chef to be stuck there catering to everyone's desires until guests had left, and then clean up after everything too.

"Sir, the food is being received splednidly!"

"Jesus!" Gil cursed, gripping the pocket of his chef's jacket over his heart as Karun - yet again - materialised out of thin air. He glared at him, "dude!"

Karun just chuckled, though, not minding the casual speech in the least. "The Madam is the envy of all present, thanks to you and your recipes, sir. I have heard only glowing reviews throughout the party."

Well, no chef disliked hearing that. And if the guests weren't going to compliment him so honestly, then at least he could hear it from someone he trusted. They hadn't said anything bad of course, but even when they were saying nice things, he really felt like he couldn't believe anything any of them were saying.

"The Madam knew, of course. I have never heard her praise anything so highly as your food!"

Sometimes Gil really wondered if Karun exaggerated Thena's words, at all. She was just so quiet, so hard to read. It was hard to imagine her going on at length about...well, anything. And yet Karun made it sound like it was something she gushed about.

"Where is Thena?" Gil asked, even looking around in hopes of catching a glimpse of her bright blonde hair. He wiped his hands on the towel tossed over his shoulder. "I haven't seen her since the doors opened."

She had stopped by before getting ready, while he was still preparing everything. She had seemed a little nervous, actually, hovering around his prep work as if to procrastinate putting on her fancy dress and doing her hair.

"Ah, the Madam has many guests to entertain," Karun lamented, although still with the same immovable smile on his face. He straightened his bow tie. "Although, she did mention fetching something from the wine cellar."

"Huh," Gil murmured, still wiping his hands, mostly to occupy them with something. He didn't have anything on the fire currently, although he had considered that he could use some sparkling just to float on top of the personal panna cottas. "Maybe I'll see if she needs a hand with anything."

Gil walked down the stairs to the fancy underground wine cellar with heavy steps. He just needed a second wind to get through the rest of the evening. If he could have a little snack and push out the desserts then he would have a clear board. There were dressed up wait staff walking around with drinks and trays of his food anyway.

Maybe Karun had planned it, but Gil turned the corner and found Thena. She was seated on one of the crates yet to be unpacked, probably full of bottles that cost more than his whole salary. She was hunched over a little plate of food with her legs crossed, the slit of her dress exposing the length of them, while also pooling unceremoniously on the floor with her heels. Her hair was still pinned tightly at the back of her head, although he was guessing that the sparkly clip sitting beside her had been in it until she got down here.

She still looked gorgeous, although he had to admit he was more fond of the way she looked first thing in the morning, enjoying one of his omelettes.

"Oh," she looked up, not rushing to polish her appearance again. She rearranged her dress somewhat, starting to slip her stocking feet back into her shoes. "I was-"

"Hey, it's okay," he rushed. He could only assume she had taken off the high heels because her feet were killing her. "I won't tell."

She smiled at him, thankful for his secrecy. She did indeed slip her feet back to the tile floor, holding her rations preciously. "Did you come to escape them as well?"

"Escape them?"

She glanced upward in the direction of her own party, "the animals."

Gil snorted. He had certainly thought of them as such, but he hadn't exactly thought Thena did too. At least, not so literally. "I thought you knew at least some of them."

But she looked downtrodden, bordering on miserable. Gil immediately thought of the times in his life when he felt like a shy little outcast, sitting alone at lunch or being excluded from playing with others. "I suppose I am acquainted with a few of them. But this is largely a networking event. It is my turn to host it, nothing more."

He didn't exactly know everything about Thena's super fancy lifestyle. Actually, he knew very little about it. But he was confident in saying that she didn't ask for any of it, let alone like it. "Really sounds like more of a pain in the ass, than anything."

He usually didn't swear in front of Thena (his boss). Well, he didn't always talk in front of her at all. But she smiled again, her finger playing with a sprig of green onion that had tumbled off a canape. "I would have to agree."

Given that this was the most he and Thena had ever exchanged in terms of words or conversation, Gil decided to push further. He abandoned the search for champagne in favour of leaning against a stack of crates facing her. He slipped his hands in his pockets, although he immediately wondered if it was coming off as 'trying too hard'. "Is there anyone here you like at all?"

She looked up, stared him dead in the eyes, and said, "you."

Gil blushed.

Thena looked down at her lap again. She didn't rush to correct her statement, but her fidgeting with her plate increased as she brought her knees closer to her chest. "Not that I make for good company."

"What?" he laughed, hoping she would follow suit. "I'd rather be down here with you than up there, anyway."

She didn't quite take it as the compliment he intended, but she did look up again. Her lip set in a firm line, "have they been pestering you? I did attempt to make it clear that you were to be left to your work."

They had circled him like sharks observing a wounded dolphin. "I haven't really noticed them."

Thena scowled down at her beet cured salmon rosette. "Not one of them is of the mind to brush elbows with their own staff. I knew that your food would entice them into playing nice, but I did hope they would have some decorum."

He definitely got the impression that, while happy to sing his praises here and now, working for them was probably a nightmare. He would much rather be here with Thena, hiding from her own guests like ne'er do wells under the bleachers.

Thena blinked as he stole the rosette right off her plate. "I beg your pardon."

He gave her a grin, chewing it thoroughly. It turned out well! "What?--you were just playing with it. Someone should enjoy my work."

Her lips tugged up again and he really noticed how the red colour made them look even fuller than usual. "I did not realise my secret stash would have to be shared."

Gil shrugged, leaning forward to steal something else. Despite her teasing reproach, she leaned back and offered her plate to help him select something. He grabbed the remaining half of a mini buratta with a disk of tomato gelee and air crisped basil. He'd never created such pretentious finger food in all his life, but that was exactly what the animals wanted, according to Thena.

"I took two of everything and came down here nearly an hour ago," she confessed, hanging her head in guilt. She finally picked up the blackberry from her crostini and ate it. "Mingling with them is simply beyond my threshold for suffering."

She said 'they're a bunch of assholes' so eloquently.

"I guess I don't blame you," Gil chuckled, taking the rest of the crostini she had left after claiming just the fruit from it. "It's your party, your house--if you wanna play hooky, then who cares."

"Play hooky?" she furrowed her brows at the expression.

He laughed again, which she seemed to take as a scathing mockery of her ignorance. His expression softened and he leaned off the crates.

Thena drew her shoulders up but ultimately made room for him on her crate as he sat down next to her. It was neither too small nor comfortably large. He managed not to touch butts with her, but there was nothing he could do about his shoulder brushing hers.

He glanced at her from his position of having to somewhat perch himself on the corner, "aren't you cold?"

Thena's cheeks took on the most charming shade of pink he'd ever seen in his life. Now that he was closer to her, he could see the faint tremor in her hands and shoulders. She looked down at her plate again, positively mortified. "Freezing."

Poor thing was so eager to leave her own party that she would rather freeze by herself in the wine cellar than mingle a little. Gil immediately wished he had something on under his chef's jacket (although that would only ever create more of a sweating problem).

Gil put his hand on hers, which really was startlingly cold to the touch. "If you don't wanna come up to the kitchen, I get it. Some of your guests do keep poking their heads in."

That certainly was enough to keep her rooted in place.

He gave her frigid hand a squeeze, "but I'll bring you something, okay? Something to warm you up in hiding."

Thena looked up at him as he stood, preparing to leave her again. Those big, dazzling green eyes of hers pleaded with him, "hurry back?"

He would let all of the desserts burn if he had to. He lingered at the door just to wave to her, "I'll grab more rations for us too."

The brightened expression on her face at the promise of his lengthened return was blinding. It was more than enough to convince him to set the desserts out all at once and whatever happened, happened. As far as he was concerned, the guest of honour was down here freezing her butt off, the least he could do was grab a cup of hot cocoa and his hoodie and some more snacks for her.

[steor-ra]

What do you think about Reader being Alfred's apprentice, they would be the Batfam's apprentice butler. The man needs a break

(hey! so, i don't actually know what apprentice means because english is not my first nor second language i'm just relying on grammatical correct to fix it all for me. so sorry if it's not written the way it means. also may have carried away and lost the topic)

(Yan!batfam)

Well, good luck for them because being Alfred's apprentice means having to also learn how to tolerate vigilantes who have also picked up some of the stubbornness from their mentor. 

I don't know if you want your relationship with them platonic or romantic but either way they would be annoying for an ounce of attention

If it were more romantic in nature, then let them provide the experience; they will let the reader to tend to their minor injuries, even though they know full well that they could handle it themselves, just for the pleasure of feeling the warm hands gently nuzzling their muscled arm. They touch them and ask if it hurts. Well, honey, of course it hurts, especially when you look at them with those amazing eyes that defy explanation. All they can do is try to act normal and give you flirtatious answers like they always do, but since you came from Alfred, you have to maintain your professionalism and brush off all the flirtatious comments to keep things as they are.

If they were platonic, you'd need siblings to thrive. They won't treat you as a butler so you may have the real experience of taking care of them like Alfred would. No, how about they train you to be their sibling? Wouldn't that be more appropriate for you yeah?

However, you resisted and continued to serve them regardless of what they said to you. You already have a family, therefore there is no need for another obsessive one. So they'll have to do it on their own; they'll do the ruffling of your hair whenever you say something brilliant; they'll do the holding of your hands; they'll make clothes for you and force you to wear them so they can dot on you; they'll do things with you that only siblings would do, not butlers.

Eventually you lost from their stubbornness and let them be the another obsessive family of yours.

But I'll say, there's no need for another trainee Alfred to fill in when the main one is in rest because no matter how Alfred train them to be like him, they will never be him.

No one can do it like Alfred could. Just sayin 🤷‍♀️

[too-fond-to-be-fearful]

Been thinking recently about the goings-on with Duolingo & AI, and I do want to throw my two cents in, actually.

There are ways in which computers can help us with languages, certainly. They absolutely should not be the be-all and end-all, and particularly for any sort of professional work I am wholly in favour of actually employing qualified translators & interpreters, because there's a lot of important nuances to language and translation (e.g. context, ambiguity, implied meaning, authorial intent, target audience, etc.) that a computer generally does not handle well. But translation software has made casual communication across language barriers accessible to the average person, and that's something that is incredibly valuable to have, I think.

Duolingo, however, is not translation software. Duolingo's purpose is to teach languages. And I do not think you can be effectively taught a language by something that does not understand it itself; or rather, that does not go about comprehending and producing language in the way that a person would.

Whilst a language model might be able to use probability & statistics to put together an output that is grammatically correct and contextually appropriate, it lacks an understanding of why, beyond "statistically speaking, this element is likely to come next". There is no communicative intent behind the output it produces; its only goal is mimicking the input it has been trained on. And whilst that can produce some very natural-seeming output, it does not capture the reality of language use in the real world.

Because language is not just a set of probabilities - there are an infinite array of other factors at play. And we do not set out only to mimic what we have seen or heard; we intend to communicate with the wider world, using the tools we have available, and that might require deviating from the realm of the expected.

Often, the most probable output is not actually what you're likely to encounter in practice. Ungrammatical or contextually inappropriate utterances can be used for dramatic or humorous effect, for example; or nonstandard linguistic styles may be used to indicate one's relationship to the community those styles are associated with. Social and cultural context might be needed to understand a reference, or a linguistic feature might seem extraneous or confusing when removed from its original environment.

To put it briefly, even without knowing exactly how the human brain processes and produces language (which we certainly don't), it's readily apparent that boiling it down to a statistical model is entirely misrepresentative of the reality of language.

And thus a statistical model is unlikely to be able to comprehend and assist with many of the difficulties of learning a language.

A statistical model might identify that a learner misuses some vocabulary more often than others; what it may not notice is that the vocabulary in question are similar in form, or in their meaning in translation. It might register that you consistently struggle with a particular grammar form; but not identify that the root cause of the struggle is that a comparable grammatical structure in your native language is either radically different or nonexistent. It might note that you have trouble recalling a common saying, but not that you lack the cultural background needed to understand why it has that meaning. And so it can identify points of weakness; but it is incapable of addressing them effectively, because it does not understand how people think.

This is all without considering the consequences of only having a singular source of very formal, very rigid input to learn from, unable to account for linguistic variation due to social factors. Without considering the errors still apparent in the output of most language models, and the biases they are prone to reproducing. Without considering the source of their data, and the ethical considerations regarding where and how such a substantial sample was collected.

I understand that Duolingo wants to introduce more interactivity and adaptability to their courses (and, I suspect, to improve their bottom line). But I genuinely think that going about it in this way is more likely to hinder than to help, and wrongfully prioritises the convenience of AI over the quality and expertise that their existing translators and course designers bring.

[mikaleialt]

Secret Love Song

Bada Lee x Bebe!reader

Angst

"Why can't I hold you in the streets? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?"

Synopsis: being in a secret relationship is not easy, especially if you are hiding it to the whole world. — or — the heavy weight of the strained relationship you have with Bada has just become too overwhelming.

cw: major angst, mentions of breaking up, kinda toxic relationship,language, long ass story— i didn't count

When BeBe got invited by Mnet to compete for the second season Street Woman Fighter, all of us were ecstatic, especially our team leader and my girlfriend, Bada Lee.

I know just how much Bada wants to showcase each of her members talents to the whole world, and how important this is for her, especially for her career as a choreographer and dancer.

Before the day of the first filming, Bada and I had come to an agreement to keep our relationship in secret in order to keep a professional image in front of our opponents and to the viewers. I didn't mind it, its not like this the first time we are keeping our relationship a secret after all.

As a matter of fact, our relationship has always been kept private, as we are both professional dancers and choreographers, only a few close people knew about our relationship.

We kept our personal life separated from our work life which let us have a nice private and peaceful life as a couple, just in each others arms with no one trying to pry on our relationship or any personal matters.

Everything is perfect. Everything was perfect.

After the first episode had aired, Bada's popularity blossoms and soon had her own fan base. I was so proud that to see her grow in her career.

But as the team and Bada's popularity grew each day, the pressure to meet the people's expections also rises, and it had affect Bada the most.

After the Kpop Deathmatch Mission, Bada has pushed herself to be better, which means she also pushes the team to be better. She becomes more strict to us, but still kept her bubbly personality when it is appropriate to goof around.

But it all went down when we got the feedback of the other groups for the Mega Crew Mission. When we learned that all of our opponents predicted that our team will be the next to go home, Bada broked down into pieces. The negative feedback had causes her to lose her confident on herself and as her girlfriend, I tried to comfort her.

"Babe, don't mind what they said, they were probably doing this to messed us up, after all we won the last challenge right? We got this, okay? I believe in us." I tried to comfort the crying Bada on my lap that night and although it had seemed to work as Bada was now more determined to prove those people wrong about what they think about her and her team.

But, It just doesn't feel right at all, yes Bada have improved a lot and was now more motivated to do better, but the more she focuses on winning the challenges and mission, the more distant she becomes to me.

After that night, Bada never stopped talking about the routines she can think of for the upcoming missions and how it will be a new step for Bebe.

It was all that she talked about, to the point she even forgets that tonight is your anniversary night.

"...I'm thinking maybe Lusher or Tatter would be the center for the first part and then we will use the..." Bada kept mumbling about the dance choreo and other stuff related to the competition and as a great girlfriend, I tried to be understanding.

I really did try my best.

But it only gets worse from there, with Bada's fame grew more, people can't help but get attracted to her, which is understandable.

It was a typical fan behaviour, and I know that Bada has this charisma in her that just makes her more attractive. But, I drew the line when people starts shipping my girlfriend to other participants like Audrey or Kirsten, heck even Redy who used to have beef with Bada.

It was pathetic, I know. But the fact that Bada was becoming closer to Redy once again after the first battle made me feel insecure.

Maybe it was the additional stress from the already strained relationship I had with Bada that makes me more anxious and jealous when in reality it is just an fantasy fans and shippers had built to satisfy their delusions. But it is starting to get to me slowly and slowly.

And this night is the final straw...

Bada kept staying up late, busying herself with making choreos, too busy to even realize that I'm not even sleeping in the same bed, let alone the same room anymore as I had moved to the spare bedroom in our apartment a week ago.

And the fan edits of Bada with other girls and guys, occupy every single social media I have. Almost like it was taunting me.

I broke down that night. All the stress from the competition and my relationship with Bada is finally having an affect on me. That night I was restless, my eyes are puffy

The next day was Bebe's practice for the New Song Challenge, where we will be choreographing Hwasa's song 'Chile'.

There were cameras set up on the dance studio we were practicing on, documenting the progress of our team. Which also means that Bada and I won't be able to interact once again.

"Ok let's run that part one more time" Bada said as everyone went to their places and the song starts.

During the part of the hook where we are doing the '7' sign with our hands, I was at the wrong position making me bumped into Bada as we danced.

And my blood runs cold when I looked at the taller girl behind me who is glaring at me intensely. I mutter a quick sorry, to which she just ignored and replayed the part again.

I feel like breaking down once again. Everyone in the team Bebe noticed the red, puffy eyes that I tried to hide from the camera by wearing a hat, the dark cloud that looms over me at my sulken face. Everyone noticed that, except Bada.

"Y/n, go back to the first position!" I flinched when Bada raised her voice, she is obviously pissed off at me now.

I am trying so hard not to cry infront of the camera and my crew as I bit my lip hard enough for me to taste a bit of blood.

The practice continues as the tension between me and Bada thickens. Looks like the show found the highlighted drama they want for the next episode.

Once the practice was over and the cameras sre all turned off, I quickly made my way out of the room I was in, not even waiting for Bada as I made my way home, eventhough Bada drove the both of us here.

I stopped by a convenience store to buy an ice cream and some sour candies to shock my system and stop me from breaking down. Before making my way back to our apartment.

And just as I thought, Bada is already there, she has a car whilst I walked home for the most part, so it makes sense.

As soon as I stepped inside, Bada is sitting on the couch, her elbows are pressed on her knees, as her fingers are intertwined.

I can sense she is very angry, but I'm way too mentally and emotionally unstable for any confrontations as I walk passed her figure, attempting to go to my bedroom, which is the stupidest decision I ever think of since it just made Bada even more mad.

"Oh so now you're gonna ignore me? Gonna act like you didn't just walked out after practice and then going home late?" Bada glares at me as I stop on my tracks.

I stare back at her, but all I can see from her is how pissed she is. I can't even recognize her.

Just a few months ago, we were fine, we were happy. But now here we are, acting like we're not even in a relationship.

"Y/n!" I flinch again as Bada raises her voice once again, "What, are you just gonna stare at me like a deer in a headlights? Answer me goddamit? What is your problem? You are so off today, your performance is already way worse than before? Are you trying to sabotage the team—"

Bada's voice faded out in my mind, all I can think of is how we used to be. This is totally different from the secret relationship we had when we are at work.

Bada has become way to obsessed with the competition that I don't she recognize my role in her life anymore. I think she already forgot that I'm her girlfriend, all because of how often we restrain ourselves from showing affection in public.

A lone tear runs down my face as Bada keeps on rambling and nagging me about my performance today.

"Stop fucking crying and answer me. What is your problem—"

"MY FUCKING PROBLEM IS THAT YOU DON'T EVEN TREAT ME LIKE YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND ANYMORE!"

Bada was shocked from my tone and by my answer. She stayed silent, feeling nervous as this is the first I got angry this bad.

"Eversince we kept our kept our relationship a secret from the whole world, you continued the act even when it's just the two of us." Fat tears are now rolling down my cheeks as my legs started to feel weak.

"I'm so sick and tired of hiding everything. I just want to be held by you in public. I mean you did it with Redy, heck you even kissed Kirsten on the cheek after you were both auditioned for the main dancer title on the first mission, why can't you do it to me?" My legs finally give out as I sat on the floor while Bada stood next to me.

"How can you flirt and be affectionate to everyone but your own girlfriend? Am I still even your girlfriend?" I looked up to her as Bada now have a hint of regret on her face.

Bada can't talk back, she was in deep thought as her mind fills with regrets.

"You forgot our anniversary last week, you talk about me leaving you behind earlier while you left me behind on everything you do. You are so obsessed with the competition that you pushed me and our relationship out from your thoughts. Honestly by now I'm justing waiting for you to break up with me." Bada's felt a pang on her chest as she kneels down next to me and hugged me, I let her but I didn't hug her back.

"I just want to stop hiding anymore..." my tone is much more softer now as I hear Bada's sobs. "You even forgot that today’s my birthday..." I tear up again as Bada starts muttering her apologies.

We both cry in silence, as we finally realize how much damage hiding did to our relationship.

"I'm sorry... It hurts me too when I can't hold you in front of many people. I'm sorry I didn't know how much I hurt you until now... I-It was stupid of me." Bada looks in to my eyes as she says those words.

"I'm sorry I forgot about you...I-" Bada chokes on her tears as she just squeeze my hands.

"I wanna get back from all I did the past few months since the competition... please give me a chance... I-I will be better." Bada looks at me desperately.

"Bada, what I want is for to us to stop hiding anymore..." I cup her cheeks. Bada contemplates at the mention of going public and it was very evident at the sudden change in her expression.

My heart breaks even more when I saw that Bada is having second-thoughts about my request.

"...so that's your answer, huh?" I sighed as I tried to stand up once again and walk to my bedroom. “Why is it so hard for you to tell the world that I’m yours?” I said before closing the door. Bada stumbles on her feet as she tries to follow me but I locked the door before she can even enter.

I broke down once again, seeing as there's no hope that Bada will ever agree to making our relationship public...

A/n: this is honestly really weird, I might revised it later but there might be a part two for this... I'm just too tired to finish it right now. Also, here you go, @badasgirlfriend ... anyway hope you enjoyed this—even if it's a bit trashy and incomplete

Requests are open

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Yours ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: took a while but here is the ~atsushi~ counterpart from the soft aku vs. atsushi fic poll. (here is the soft aku fic) i hope you enjoy ♡

genre: f!reader. smut with angst (you cheated on atsushi omg... 🥲). makeup sex.

content warnings: MDNI! possessiveness, unprotected sex + he cums inside (*these are very risky*), overstimulation, general angst, he gets rough at the end (yes ik it was supposed to be a soft fic, but...)

summary: no matter what happens, you'll always run back into the arms of the man who taught you how to love – and he'll run right back to you, too.

you don't know exactly how you ended up here. come to think of it, though, this is always where you end up – right in front of the ada's dorm at the crack of dawn. once the drunkenness of twilight has settled into a sobered reality, your feet stumble on their own in front of this door, seeking shelter from whatever it was that sent you reeling in the first place. it's been said that night time is the play time for sinners and devils. this past year, you found out that you're no exception to that rule – for here you are as living proof, crawling back in search of forgiveness from the very person you've wronged.

"for atsushi?" a familiar voice calls from behind you before your knuckles rap at the door. you barely heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, but you're not surprised to find that dazai's still up. how appropriate for the two people guilty to both be wide awake at this hour. still, running into him like this sends a shiver up your spine. you freeze in your tracks, half expecting him to discourage you from what you're about to do – but instead he just walks past you without another word, and maybe that's even worse. it's just a reminder that you were nothing to him, and that he's barely had to suffer from the consequences of the night you caught together.

you'd imagine that sleeping with atsushi's girlfriend put a strain on dazai's personal and professional relationship with him, even if it only happened one time. at the end of the day though, dazai was atsushi's superior – and the source of his food and housing – and atsushi had no choice but to accept that reality.

you, on the other hand, were cut out of his life. it had been months of no contact between you and your now ex-boyfriend. all texts were left on seen, every call sent to voicemail. you could even swear that atsushi was avoiding all the spots he used to frequent, just to make sure he didn't run into you by chance. you never thought you'd be a cheater – never, ever in a million years – but here you were, having done that very thing to the person who taught you the meaning of unconditional love.

how could you be so selfish? so thoughtless? stupid, even? you'd take it all back in an instant, but you know can't. your feet are about to move. you're about to turn back. you should... yes, that's exactly what you should do. tonight feels too soon – it's all wrong. running into dazai last minute proves that.

and yet, just as you're about to bolt down the stairs, you hear it – the sound of the door in front of you unlocking. it's like a quiet charm. his voice is like a wish that you whispered under your breath. "it's you..." soft-spoken, just as he always has been, and there he is –

– atsushi nakajima himself.

"do you need something?"

there's no malice in his voice – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him. something about it in this moment feels heartbreaking. you almost want him to yell at you or scold you, just so you can apologize to him with your whole self, or let him know how much you've regretted that day. instead, he stands there with his arms drooped at his sides, unfeeling. it's cruel, that minute of empty silence. you wonder if he's about to close the door on you. maybe he should. it feels like you're miles apart, and the distance is deafening.

just one second more, you think to yourself. it's selfish, you know. let me memorize what you look like. let me remember how your bangs fall. the color of your eyes.

you open your lips to speak, but it's your feet that move instead. one moment you're in front of him, but then you blink, and you're closing the distance between you – you're sobbing on his shoulder, your arms around his neck. silence, save for the sound of your stifled cries against his now-stained sweater.

he wants to push you away, but he doesn't. his arms wrap around your waist instead. the feeling of your body, pressed tight to his, is all too familiar. you're warm, and you smell so nice. it's that same shampoo you've always used, the one he likes on you. you're pretty today, hair falling into place like this. you're just as he remembers. this is his favorite knit on you – you look just as lovely as you did yesterday.

he says nothing, stunned. what is there to say in a situation like this? all he can do is cling to you, hope you don’t let go of him the way you did many nights before… that you don’t tire of him, toss him aside like you did that night. "why didn't you come back sooner–?" there’s a tremble in his voice, and he falls apart. when you meet his gaze, you realize the reason he hasn't pulled away is because there are tears in his liquid eyes. "don't tell me you wanted him instead?" his voice falters. you shake your head wildly, trying to force him to look at you again, but he's pawing your hands away. there’s a pain expression on his face when he finally looks back up at you, wincing. it’s like that of a beaten dog that's come crawling back to its master.

"i thought you hated me..." you confess, words spilling out, "– and you have every right to... it should have only been you.

i only want you."

your words strike him down. his hands are pushing you away at first. at least, that's what he thinks, because every part of him is telling you that's what they should be doing. every part of him is telling him to tell you to get out of his sight, to get out of his life, because he knows it must be wrong to do what he’s about to do. there's a reason that he avoided you in the first place, isn’t there?

but he's past the point of return now – in his heart, he knew this is just how you two would end up.

there's a reason he avoided you in the first place after all, isn't there?

with you in his arms, looking at him the same way you always have, it's no use. guided by sheer instinct, there's no shred of timidness in the fierce way that he grabs at you now. those same hands that pushed you away are now reaching for you, pulling you into his arms with just as much ferocity, eager to hold you again. there's a neediness to the way that he clings to every curve and crevice. you melt into him, and his lips are on yours.

it's been so long – too long. he didn't think your reunion would go like this. at least, he imagined that if it would begin with more talking. with you standing in front of him, though, the memories are all coming back so suddenly –

every laugh, every look;

every argument.

you were his first everything – god, he missed you.

how did he last this long without you?

his hands find your waist first, molding to your form. then, the next thing you know, his hands are on your ass, and he's digging into the fat with his fingertips, and you feel him pin his hips flush against yours as he backs you into the darkness of his room. tonight, it's not enough to just have you – he needs to claim you, all of you.

the door locks behind you, a quiet clinking of metal as atsushi's fingers fumble with the handle, then you feel your back thud loudly against the wall that you know is shared with dazai's room. you gasp quietly as teeth skim your neck, his lips latching onto the tender skin between your collarbone and shoulder. then, you feel his hands grasping you clumsily as he undresses you hastily, desperate to cover every inch that he's touched, to erase every memory of him that might be left.

"am i... being too rough?" he asks concernedly as he helps you out of your cardigan, discarding it on the floor. his voice is a heated whisper in your ear. "it's okay?"

groping him through his pants, you hear his breath grow shallow, watch as he swallows his own spit, his iridescent eyes following you closely as you trace his outline. his breath is ragged, hungry. he lowers his hands from you – lowers all of his defenses – and you sink to your knees, your hands caressing him everywhere, your lips tracing the lean muscle of his body, your mouth re-mapping his skin into your memory... as if you could ever forget what atsushi, of all people, feel like, when he's the very person who taught you what it meant to truly love someone.

your fingers hooking on the waistband of his pajamas, you tug them down his legs along with his boxers, then take his length into your hands. he sucks in a sharp, shaky breath, holding your gaze as you stroke him once from base to tip, enamored completely by the way you look right now on your knees for him – how long has it been since you've touched him like this? he's ashamed to admit that he's thought about this day more than once, now forced to spend an awful amount of time reflecting on how different his calloused hand feels from yours when he's touching himself at night, alone. now, here you are right in front of him, your palm wrapped around him so perfectly. it feels like a fantasy.

you're kissing it, lips pressed to the pretty tip as you bat your eyes at him. atsushi's barely had the time to process that you're here, and now you're flicking away the beads of pearlescent precum with your soft, wet tongue – and god, it feels so heavenly to have you like this. he reaches for you mindlessly, petting your hair, then he lets out these beautifully soft, whimpered moans as you suck on him – a breathless "oh my god..." rolling off of his lips when you finally take all of him into your mouth. "feels... so good..."

then suddenly, you hear him curse under his breath, tossing his head backward when you feel him abruptly hit the back of your throat, hips thrusting forward –

"– ah, god... fuck..." – before he quickly shoves his hand against his mouth in complete embarrassment, face flushing bright pink as he stammers out a quick apology and steadies himself. it's the first time you've ever heard him say something like that during such an intimate act. you stare at him wide-eyed, shocked, but he's avoiding looking at you now, blushing to himself and watching you through his fingers as he pants quietly into the palm of his hands.

then, "kiss me – please." it's a simple request, but it's full of urgency. god, how he's missed you. he cups your cheeks in his hands and brings your lips to his. it's a passionate kiss, sloppy and wet, the type of kiss that has teeth clumsily collide and noses briefly bump against each other. you feel his hand grasp your thigh. he wraps it around his waist, then suddenly his fingers are seeking you through your cotton panties. he pushes the fabric to the side, then you gasp aloud as you feel those slender fingers of his thrust so deep inside of you. it feels dirty – too dirty, even. different, at the very least. the two of you have only ever made love before, and now he's fucking you with his fingers.

"does it feel good?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. you can feel his hot breath on your neck, his tongue teasing your earlobe, as he slides his fingers in and out of you, collecting your sticky arousal on his fingertips. you moan as you feel his thumb find your clit, making slow, steady circles, then you pull back from the kiss to look at him, just to see the face he might be making at you. he's gazing at you with these half-lidded, lustful eyes that are just desperate to hear your praise. though inexperienced, atsushi's always been an attentive lover, keen to your every sound and movement. as his first, you taught him everything he knows – and as such, you've taught him exactly how to pleasure you. drawing his name from your sweet lips comes all too easily.

he's greedy with his fingers, eager to taste you on his tongue, and you watch him as he licks you off his fingers and kisses you again and again like it's never enough. he's even greedier with his words, eyes glinting with satisfaction after you cum on his fingertips, crying out for him.

"i can make you feel better than he can," he coos into your neck as you convulse in his arms. "i'll make you feel so good."

atsushi's never thought of himself as a possessive man, but things certainly change when someone takes away what's rightfully his. now, with you singing his praises, he can't help but want more. fingertips burrowing into your hips, he bends you over his desk and you hear him ask,

"can i put it in just like this?"

your eyes widen –

of all the things he could have said, you'd never expect this – and from atsushi, of all people. "raw?" you stutter out in disbelief, and he nods at you unflinchingly, continuing to pamper you with his affection, hands reaching for your breasts, shaping and squeezing them around his palms. "it's risky..." your voice trails on the last syllable, words subsiding into a soft moan as you feel his finger traces around your nipple before he claims them with his tongue. you push the messy bangs out of his forehead to read his expression, but there's not an ounce of hesitation on his face.

– "i know that."

you're trying to think straight, but you can't. all you can think about is how intensely hot your body feels right now, and what it might feel like to have him fuck you until you've been completely forgiven. slipping your soiled panties down your legs, you nod at him to continue. "yes, i want it," you whisper desperately, and you're surprised when your voice comes out like a whine as you ease your thighs apart for him. "put it in… please –"

he nods, then reaches for himself. he's as gentle as he always has been with you – perhaps even more so tonight as he presses fleeting kisses to your hair and murmurs reassurances into your shoulder that he's about to put it inside. his lips are soft against your neck and spine.

you moan as as he slips the blunt head inside your wet, waiting entrance. he’s careful not to hurt you, guiding it slowly. it’s perfect. how long has it been since you've felt this – since you've felt him touching you like this? so loving. so right. you sigh into his touch, listen to the sound of his sharp inhale and feel him nearly collapse into your back once he bottoms out inside you.

he's amazed by the feeling of your bareness against him and the way your slickness squeezes around him. he pauses, then glances down. oh, wow – the sight of himself disappearing inside of you is enough to drive him wild. you're so warm and wet. kunikida was wrong when he said sex without a condom feels the same as sex with a condom. he must have been lying just to keep him safe when he first started having sex because this feels a thousand times better – he can feel everything like this, all of you. every ridge, every pulse, the very ache that’s throbbing inside of you. you're gripping him so perfectly. he needs it so badly… needs you so badly.

"mm, it's so good..." he groans, pressing his lips to your neck. then, you feel him start to move from behind you, hear the quiet sound of his skin hitting yours as he brings your hips back against him, nice and slow. the room is silence save for the sound of your breath becoming shallow as his pace quickens. his fingers seek you again between the thighs, and you shudder forward, burying your face into the wood of the table as you gasp. "does it feel good for you too?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. "yeah?"

you whimper out your approvals, feeling his thumb pressing on your clit again. you're so sensitive from your last high that you cry out, sobbing as you beg for more. he pins your wrists behind your back, pushing you into his desk, and you feel him reach you at an angle you've never felt him before. he's so rough tonight – but it feels so good.

"h-harder–" you stammer out, and you feel him shove your face against the desk as he thrusts faster. "i need you so bad." you're liquid in his hands and you melt as you moan out his name, tthe syllables are sloppy on your tongue, spilling from your lips like water as you cum from his fingers again.

"a... tsu.. shi... please. atsushi..."

yes, say it just like that – atsushi, atsushi. atsushi.

then, "where do you want it?"

– "inside me."

you feel his fingers tip your chin toward him, then his eyes are on you.

there's not an ounce of malice behind those iridescent eyes as he bats his eyelashes at you – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him.

"watch me cum for you."

there's a steadiness to his voice, an unwavering certainty as he captures his lips in yours and leaves you breathless. "you're mine. don’t ever leave me again.”

then, you feel it: his cum leaking down your thighs.

warm and white, trickling down your legs.

you'll take all of it, all of him.

"i'm yours, atsushi. yours… yours."

author ps: yes it has similar themes to the aku x reader one yes i am a sskk shipper on the side

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[hobidreams]

minis: december 1872.

shouldn't we all get a chance to be happy?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader (side story) words: ~1400 note: this takes place a few months after the epilogue + a few years before the last mini!

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 48. start from the beginning?

Staunchly loyal and fiercely protective, Royal Guard Jung Hoseok’s life had long revolved around two things since the untimely passing of his wife: his beloved, precious daughter, Aera, and the royal family he had sworn to protect with all of his life. For as long as he could remember, his oath meant doing everything in his power to ensure his king remained physically safe, even if Hoseok was powerless to alleviate the emotional turmoil that plagued jeonha for most of his life. But he’d seen how things had changed in the past year, for both his king and his friend, the su-uinyeo-nim he respected and had always considered part of the royal family, official titles or not. He’d been blessed to witness the happiness that finally had the chance to blossom between two people that deserved it most.

And with that change, that tidal shift, in swept the pure force that was Seong-min, jungjeon-mama, into Hoseok’s life.

The first time he had seen her, the strong emotion that thundered through him had been of surprise.

Despite knowing that appearances were often deceiving, he had expected… a girl. A young, bright-eyed girl who had been pampered her whole life like jeonha’s former betrothed, Beom-su, had been. Instead, though she was still more youthful than he, there was a certain hardness in jungjeon-mama’s eyes. An edge that spoke of a clever mind and a stubborn resilience, tempered only by the social decorum she was a careful expert in. Hoseok had been instantly fascinated (in his professional capacity, he told himself). Hopelessly unable to keep the corner of his eye from wandering back to her whenever he stood guard in her vicinity in the months since her marriage to jeonha.

More than once, Hoseok had caught her mask slipping: an upward, amused quirk of her lips when jeonha scolded a particularly annoying minister, the quick flash of a lethal glare in her eyes when someone disrespected one of the people she considered her own. Hoseok couldn’t help the swell of his own pride at catching one of those moments, then keeping his lips sealed about them. Especially when she began to turn towards him (coincidentally, he was sure) to give her candid reaction before she molded herself into the regal ruler once more.

All of these thoughts, Hoseok very much kept to himself, even though he was one of few that had been entrusted with the truth of the platonic relationship between the king and the queen. He was the leader of the Guard. He was just being protective. Every time he brought her fruit was just part of his duties. Every time he went to the market personally to purchase what she sought. And she only continuously called for him because he was reliable.

Oh, but now, standing before her for the very first time in the warm lamplight of her sitting room, the collar of her chima slightly more ajar than it would ever be in public, Hoseok is discovering that perhaps all that interest was less appropriate than he convinced himself it was.

“Guard Jung,” Jungjeon-mama calls, and he is terrified that she can hear his heart speed up at her voice that sounds far too intimate in this space, “do you have the yakgwa I requested?”

“Good evening, jungjeon-mama.” Hoseok’s sleeves pull slight friction against the rest of his uniform. “I have it, yes.”

Seong-min pulls her sharp eyes up from her book, and gives him one of her trademark stares that often means she’s seeing more than she lets on. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“I…” He stands firm at the threshold of her chambers, his feet frozen to the ground, his pulse stuttering. His entire body is stiff in a way it’s never been before. Not when he’s spent most of his life honing his muscles to respond to him exactly he way he wants. But he shouldn’t go any further here. It wouldn’t be right.

More than anything, Hoseok is frustrated with himself. He’s a goddamn soldier. He should be able to spit out his thoughts. But the way she’s looking at him is making words jumble in his mind. “May I just leave them here?” He finally gets out after a beat of tenuous silence, like the coward he’s never known himself to be.

“No.” She offers no further explanation. Just taps a slender finger twice on the wooden desk right before her to indicate exactly where he should put the delivery of cookies. “Close the door behind you.”

The scrape of the door behind him feels like the sharpening of an executioner’s blade for what he is doing. But that was a direct order from his queen. With his left hand, Hoseok clenches the box so hard he has to remind himself to relax.

“I do not think I should be doing this,” Hoseok says, even as he steps further inside. Maybe that could absolve some of his guilt.

“And why is that?”

Hoseok swallows. The floor creaks under his foot. “Propriety, of course. An unmarried man should not be alone with a young woman, much less one of your stature, jungjeon-mama. Confucious’ teachings and decorum and…”

“What are you afraid will happen?”

The pure, easy amusement that beams from her face stuns him into silence. He’s never seen it so unabashed before. He’s never seen it aimed at him before. His heart lurches in a way it hasn’t done in years.

“Nothing, of course,” he mutters, trying to gather himself, but he is so close to her now, so close he can start to smell the faint sweetness of whatever fragrance she’s brushed across her skin today. He climbs one set of low stairs to the next platform. “I am only concerned with what the others will say. I do not wish for your reputation to be tarnished but the palace halls hum with gossip and—”

“Hoseok.”

She cuts him off, saying his given name so smoothly, it’s as if she’s called him that a hundred times before. Or maybe that’s only in his delirious mind. But there is no denying how she commands him to keep moving with her eyes alone, as if putting him under a spell as he approaches her, step by trembling step.

When Hoseok leans down to set the small wooden box upon the table, her hand is faster than he. Before he can make his escape, Seong-min grabs a fistful of his uniform, pulling him towards her with one firm tug. She leans her face into him, the distance between them eviscerated in a moment. He looks into her deep, beautiful eyes, seeing himself reflected there with a pang of desire shooting straight into his heart. She could kiss him, he realizes. He could kiss her.

“Let them talk.” Her voice is a half-whisper, brimming with conviction and desire as her breath brushes warm and sweet over his mouth. “I will still have what I want.”

And before he can shatter propriety into a million tiny splinters and give into what he suddenly wants more than anything in the entire world, Seong-min loosens her hand.

She straightens, adjusting the knot on her chima and patting away a speck of dust on the silk. As if she isn’t aware of the heat in his gaze, she opens the lid of the box as if she had only just finished reading her book. “Thank you for this, Guard Jung.”

“I, uh, ah, right. Right. Yes.” Hoseok backs away immediately, retreating away into the shadows as if that could hide the furious red heat creeping over his cheeks.

“I’ll call on you again, for more.” She bites into a cookie that leaves crumbs at the corner of her mouth. She smirks when he watches her slowly lick them away even as he is attempting to escape, fixated on the pink dart of her tongue. “Soon.”

Despite not being a clumsy person in general (at least compared to Eunuch Kim), Hoseok nearly falls over completely, so desperate to be alone to collect his poor mind and stop the pounding in his ears every bit as much as he wants to stay with her. “I-I will attend to your needs to the best of my abilities, jungjeon-mama.” He’s nearly at the exit. Sweet freedom from the chances of embarrassing himself further, though he will certainly replay this moment in his mind for days and weeks on end.

When Hoseok finally throws open the door and all but hurls himself out after a rapid bow, Seong-min only watches and laughs. When only the clean scent of him lingers, she touches her fingers gently to her bottom lip, where they almost met. “I’ll very much look forward to that, Guard Jung.”

a/n: I love Seong-min 🥺I make no promises to write more of these two but they've been living rent free in my brain for years... so maybe more to come 👀

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

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

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

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

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

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

Previously on Just Pretend

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

~

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

~

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

~

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

Now...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m … what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you’re just being a bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”

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

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

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

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

[You]: PABLO

[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID

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

[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"More like six months actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pedri, I'm worried."

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

"What're you worried about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

"Oh."

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

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

"Wait you have a balcony?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.

"Remember the first time we met?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pablo..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want a sandwich?"

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come lay next to me while you rant."

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

"You want me to?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, right - where was I?"

"She never put any effort into the relationship."

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

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

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

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

"So we have two more matches with you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"At the what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Think we're going to win?"

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

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

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

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

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Who's going to stop me?"

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

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

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

"A screamer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now the most recent one had come through:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I try and keep up."

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

"I can't afford-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

"The... what?"

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"And my accomodation..?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pedri! Gavi!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I won't Pablo."

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

"What are you.. what was that?"

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."

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

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

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

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

~

"And the winner is... Gavi."

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

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

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

~

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

"Pablo! There you are!"

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

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

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

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

"Y/N! There you are."

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm really nothing special."

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

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

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

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

"Hermano, are you-"

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pablo?"

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

"Are you looking for something?"

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

"Who, Pablo?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your award, Pablo."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.

"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.

"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.

"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.

"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.

"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.

"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.

"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.

"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.

"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.

"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.

"Pablo it's too good."

"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."

He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.

"Open up, pretty girl."

"Pablo, want you. Want you please."

"I'm right here, baby. All yours."

You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.

"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."

He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.

"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.

"Pablo. I..."

"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.

"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Please don't leave me after we have sex."

He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.

"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.

"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.

"Pablo," you whined.

He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.

"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.

"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.

"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.

"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."

You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.

"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.

"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.

"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.

"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.

"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"

You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.

"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."

"I love you more, Pablo."

"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."

He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.

[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano

~

The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.

"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."

His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.

"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."

There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.

"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."

"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.

"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."

"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."

"I hope you never stop."

~

A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.

*~*Taglist*~*

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[bivht]

Moon Sign in the Persona Charts Observations

-

Idk why but I’m obsessed with looking at moon signs. The moon sign traits are always the most noticeable to me

🎒People that have that look-at-me factor may have Leo moon in the moon pc or venus pc. If in Moon pc, they can attract attention just by breathing. With Venus pc it’s more like they have to be interacting, talking with another person for people to notice them. Because Venus is about relations. Both stand out in center positions.

🎒If someone’s moon sign is the same as your mercury sign in the moon/mercury/venus/mars pc, they understand each other quite well. The moon will appreciate the mercury’s way of expressing themselves and the mercury finds the moon familial and is comfortable around them. I have a lot of friends with this compatibility.

🎒If two people have the same moon sign in the mercury pc, they seem like a couple sorry. Their way of thinking is so similar. These are the people that can look at each other and know what the other one is thinking without saying anything. Their bond transcends the limitations of speech.

🎒Virgo moon in the mercury pc have to be the most respectful, grateful, polite people I’ve ever met. They’re good at handling and navigating through situations in a professional environment because they’re unbiased and “right place right time” appropriate sort of people. They have strong boundaries with their personal details and with physical contact and can be slow to trust people. They have a sort of perfect look to them. Not necessarily their appearance but more like their self expression. I notice a lot of them tend to be on the slimmer side. They tend to eat until comfortably full rather than stuffed. They don’t bite more than they can chew and don’t make promises they can’t keep. 10/10 respectable people.

🎒Trust an earth moon in the mercury pc/moon pc to give an honest review. They avoid using emotive words like “best” and “most” and instead take time to analyze the pros and cons whilst being respectful. They’re not gullible, not dramatic but realistic and true skeptics.

🎒Aries moon in the mercury pc/mars pc are so hot!!

🎒Not an astrology observation but people who lack these letters in their name—-> b,k,t,e,n,w,h,q,z are terrible at math for some reason. Or just very slow to learn math concepts. Even if you have one of these letters in your name, it has to be prominent, meaning: first letter, second letter, first vowel, last letter. This is more of an assumption so please let me know if it resonates.

🎒People with an abundance of air moons in the moon/mercury/venus/mars pc stare at people a LOT

🎒Air moons in mercury pc make for stimulating conversation, gossip, but are kind of detached. I wouldn’t go for deep convos with them unless they also have Fire and Water too.

🎒Earth moon in mercury pc = that friend that never lets anyone in their house

(but they’ve been to your house countless times)

🎒Virgo moon in mercury pc is another level of private especially when it comes to relationships. I swear more than scorpio moons. Most other moons will tell you who they have a crush on early. Virgo moon could be secretly pining for so long and then you find out they’ve already confessed to their crush whom you didn’t even know about and been together for a month. They also don’t like to talk about relationship problems with anyone other than their partner and don’t like people—>strangers/acquaintances asking about their relationship so yeah respect their boundaries.

🎒Sagittarius moon in mercury pc like to tease and provoke their partner. Sometimes they may like to make their partner jealous and they also get jealous easily. They know how to have fun, enjoy life and a big, hearty meal!! Big biters. They are definitely foodies haha. They can have adorably chubby cheeks bc they eat a lot unless they have fast metabolism. They pull funny faces. Lowkey the opposite of virgo moon.

🎒Taurus moon in mercury pc is also a foodie but the difference is they take time to appreciate each bite whereas sag just stuffs their face lmao a little too self rewarding but at least they’re having a good time

🎒Taurus, Sag, Cancer = ultimate foodies

🎒Most earth moons in mercury pc are so grateful, humble and down to earth especially virgo. Sag and pisces in mercury pc can come off as ‘out of touch’ as these signs are less comfortable in mercury (I forgot the word for it). I can imagine rich kids with sag/pisces moon in merc pc being insufferable yikes.

🎒Gemini moon in mercury pc is eccentric but in a charming way?

🎒Pisces moon in mercury pc are so “wrong time wrong place” people, it’s weirdly hilarious. They’re either the embodiment of TMI or so mysterious you hardly know anything about them

🎒Fire moons in the moon pc are so entertaining. They’re delivery is always hilarious bc they’re so dramatic and passionate. People are attracted to them like moths to a flame

🎒Scorpio moon in mercury pc and Aries moon in mars pc are scary as. Don’t want to be on their bad side. Scorpio anger is more of a silent, fatal, death stare whereas Aries is explosive, fuming anger. They’re fiercely loyal and protective of their loved ones but the down side is they can be biased; defending the person in the wrong sometimes

🎒Moon signs in the same element get along really well I.e. capricorns get along with virgo and taurus. Aries get along with Leo and sag. For example, same-element-moons in the mercury pc can be completely different people but understand each other so well. In mars pc, they have similar energy and hype each other up, they’re each other’s personal hype man lol

🎒I feel like signs with the same modality attract each other. For example sag moon and virgo moon in mercury pc (modality: mutable) both have such different beliefs and values yet they appreciate traits in the other that they lack and get along well as friends. For example virgo is professional and stoic, and sag is funny but their bond is built on mutual respect rather than similarities between each other. And also, one of my virgo moon in merc pc friend likes a lot of celebrities with sag moon in merc pc (can’t remember who, my bad).

🎒Gemini moons in moon pc think through their emotions rather than feel. They overanalyse social interactions more often than not

🎒Sometimes sag in mercury pc can be ungrateful. They always want more, more, more without showing gratitude, for example with food especially. Sometimes they need to sit back and smell the roses.

🎒Aquarius moon in the moon pc is really detached. Throw in a bit of Pisces and it’s just a whole unstable mess. In extreme cases, narcissism/serial killers/psychotism. I can imagine because at their worst, pisces is delusional, and aquarius has the ability to detach from any emotion including empathy.

🎒Aries moon in moon pc have self respect. They never say anything to belittle themselves. They’re honest and don’t appreciate pity and so they talk about their hardships in a normal tone (not a pitiful one). They’re also arguably the most hardworking people out there and you’ll never be bored around them once you get to know them.

🎒Capricorn moons have impeccable patience and they’re really so caring, parental like

🎒Capricorn/scorpio moon in Jupiter pc is so subtly powerful, I love them

🎒Scorpio moon in venus pc’s intense stare >>>>>>>>>>>>>

🎒Libra moon’s habit of copying their partners habits, speech patterns, fashion and interests is so cute. Matching couple outfits/bracelets etc. are their jam

🎒Cancer/Pisces moon in mars pc can get teary eyed when someone raises their voice at them. They’re also very comfortable to be around

🎒Libra moon in the mars pc is so chill like they just don’t give a shit

🎒Capricorn moon in the mars pc is really good at this ——-> 😐

stone faced hot mfs

🎒Leo moons are sooo funny especially moon/mars/jupiter pc

🎒Fire moons in the mars pc are a whole load of fun and dramatic

🎒Aries moon in mercury pc is really resilient and they rarely give up on their goals. Sag moon in mercury pc on the other hand just sometimes can’t be bothered. The most important thing for them is to have fun and be entertained. Leo is kind of a bit of both.

🎒Pisces moon in the moon pc like to vent to people and play the blame game before taking action and solving whatever problem. They’re also healing to be around and very empathetic.

🎒Taurus moon and gemini moon in moon pc get along quite well

🎒Virgo moons can be so naggy but it’s how they show their love

🎒Virgo moon in mercury/venus pc is the type to immediately wash their dishes after eating. Sag moon in mercury pc is the type to leave uncleaned dishes on the dining table after eating, then eat more in the middle of the night and so adding more dirty dishes to the table overnight and then the stack of dirty dishes continue to go neglected for a few days or even longer. They’d make for an interesting horrible roommate duo.

Also thank you so much for 700 followers!! I love you guys ❤️ Enjoy this post.

[maddiethedogstories]

Hide and Seek

"16... 17... 18... 19... 20! Ready or not, here I come, silly girl!"

Carmen kept crouched as low as possible in her hiding spot behind the blinds behind the couch. She tried to move as little as possible both to keep the blinds from moving and to keep the crinkling of her bulky disposable diaper from giving her position away. Carmen, a beautiful, 28-year-old partner in a boutique law firm, needed to remain hidden for the next 30 minutes. She didn't think she could handle the consequences if she didn't.

Carmen's home life hadn't always been like this--filled with diapers, onesies, and children's games. Just six months ago, her life was like a dream. She was married to an amazing man, Andrew. Both she and Andrew worked good paying, professional jobs. They didn't have kids to drain away their money and time. Plus, with more than a little help from their parents, they had both avoided student debt. With a surplus of money and time, Carmen had the best of everything. She had the best food, the best clothes, the best cars, the best vacations, and, importantly, the best sex.

All of that had changed when they hired Kelly. The 19-year-old, beautiful blonde, working her way through community college had dropped into Carmen's life like a bomb.

Both Andrew and Carmen hated cleaning the house, preferring to spend their time enjoying themselves. So, they hired Kelly, who was more than willing to be their live-in maid, cleaning their house in exchange for room, board, and generous pay.

At first, Carmen loved the arrangement. Everyday when she came home from work, the house was immaculate. Kelly herself was always bubbly and happy, overall a joy to be around. Further, neither Carmen or Andrew noticed the lose of one of their spare bedrooms, a small amount of food, or their money.

Carmen began to become more uncomfortable with the situation as time went on though. Andrew typically worked from home, meaning he spent the day around the attractive young co-ed. Carmen started to notice that after a few weeks of this relationship, Kelly and Andrew were getting more and more familiar. What started with a few giggles at inside jokes, quickly progressed to an uncomfortable familiarity. Carmen noticed that Kelly was quickly becoming more and more physically close with her husband, lightly touching his arm or lower back while often positioning herself physically between the attorney and her husband. They whispered in each other's ears when Kelly was around, and would occasionally try to do things outside of the house together.

Eventually, Carmen had enough. One evening, after Kelly had gone to her room, Carmen confronted Andrew, ordering him to either set more appropriate boundaries with Kelly or fire the woman with a generous severance package. Andrew agreed to set better boundaries, and, for all of a day, everything seemed fine.

However, two mornings after Carmen's confrontation over Kelly with her husband, the 28-year-old lawyer, who had never wet the bed in her life, woke up in soaking wet sheets. Kelly, as the live-in housekeeper was all too eager that morning to clean up after her employers embarrassing accident. Despite the immediate shame, Carmen brushed that accident off as the result of her stress caused by work and her recent conflict with Andrew.

But, her accidents didn't end there. Two mornings later, Carmen woke up tucked between sheets soaked in her own urine again. Once again, Kelly diligently cleaned up Carmen's mess without complaint. However, when Carmen went to get ready to sleep the next night, a pack of GoodNites was laid on her side of the bed.

"Andrew, what the fuck is this?!" Carmen said as she burst into the bathroom where her husband was sitting on the toilet.

"Um, GoodNites?" He responded nonchalantly.

Carmen nearly exploded.

"I know that! What are they doing on my bed?!"

"Leaving you a subtle hint that you don't seem to be getting!" Andrew responded with more than a hint of condescension in his tone. "I was talking to Kelly today, and she's tired of changing *your* wet sheets. And, to be fair to her, I'm also tired of waking up soaked in your pee. She suggested you wear some protection to bed until this phase passes. It seemed like a good idea to me."

Kelly fumed, "Oh, you were *talking* to that little bitch, and she suggested I wear a diaper to bed? No way. I don't have a bedwetting problem. It's just been a couple of nights!"

"Whatever you say, babe. But, if this keeps happening, you're not going to have a choice. Your 'not-a-bedwetting-problem' is already doing a number on our mattress. I've seen the damage when Kelly changes the sheets. If this keeps happening, you're going to wear GoodNites to bed. We aren't buying a new mattress," Andrew lectured his wife.

Carmen huffed and threw the GoodNites across the room. She was an adult. She wouldn't be caught dead wearing a fucking pull-up to bed. Or so she thought.

Three days and two accidents later, Carmen blushed as she walked in her room and found the GoodNites on her side of the bed again. Andrew was already in the master bathroom, getting ready for bed. This time, she chose to take the subtle hint. Before her husband made it out of the bathroom, she quickly undressed, slipped on the bedwetting pants, and threw on her baggiest pajamas. She then quickly hid the open pack of pull-ups in her underwear drawer.

Andrew walked out of the bathroom, walked up to Carmen, gave her a kiss accompanied by his customary ass-grab. Carmen blushed as she felt her underwear crinkle under his hand.

"Good girl!" Andrew said before giving Carmen a playful spank and crawling into bed.

Things continued to get worse from that point forward. Carmen began waking up wet every morning, and it wasn't long before she started having small accidents during the day, ruining her work clothes. Each time, she would call Andrew to have him bring her clean panties and bottoms. Each time, he, to Carmen's embarrassment, sent Kelly to drop off the clothes. After her third accident, Andrew suggested, and Carmen agreed, that she should start wearing extra protection during the day.

Shortly after her daytime accidents started, her wetting problem became more extreme. Every morning, Carmen woke up to wet sheets despite wearing GoodNites. Similarly, Carmen had to have her housekeeper bring her new clothes more than a handful of times because she had leaked through her protective panties at work.

It was the Saturday after Carmen's second week of leaking incidents that Andrew called a 'family meeting.' Carmen entered her living room to find Andrew and Kelly sitting on the couch facing a kitchen chair, set up in the middle of the room.

"Sit down, baby, we need to talk," Andrew said, gesturing for Carmen to sit in the chair.

Carmen sat down nervously, her wet pull-up squishing as her weight hit the hard seat.

"Talk about what? And why is SHE here?" Carmen's distaste for Kelly having only grown since her little 'accidents' has began.

Andrew proceeded to explain his and Kelly's growing concerns with Carmen's toilet-troubles. He discussed how he and Kelly had been speaking at length about the problem and both agreed that it seemed to be as a result of stress. From there, Andrew laid out the plan Kelly had devised to help her work through it, and indicated that agreed with it.

Carmen would take a leave of absence from work and as much stress as possible would be removed from her life. Carmen would no longer be responsible for making any of her own decisions or taking care of herself. Andrew and Kelly, whose role would be expanded from just a housekeeper to that of Carmen's nanny, would be wholly reasonable for everything in Carmen's life. They would feed her, bath her, entertain her, dress her, and, worst of all, diaper her. Carmen would effectively be reduced to a toddler, living a state-of-existence where she wouldn't have to worry about anything, even when to use the potty.

Carmen immediately raged against her husband and housekeeper's proposal. She threw a massive tantrum, screaming, breaking, and throwing things. Having had enough, Andrew pulled Carmen over his lap and gave her the first, of what has become many, spankings. It only ended when Carmen's pull-up ended up leaking all over his lap. Sobbing, defeated, embarrassed, and covered in her own urine, Carmen gave in.

From there, things deteriorated quickly. Carmen quickly found her life filled with baby food, bottle feedings, baby toys, and diaper changes. The woman who she had been afraid was stealing her husband was now the person primarily responsible for wiping Carmen's ass. Andrew quickly found he wasn't attracted to Carmen in her new infantilized state, and Kelly convinced him that it would be more appropriate anyways for them to convert one of their many bedrooms into a nursery and have Carmen sleep in there.

Carmen found herself tucked into her crib after a bath and a bedtime story by Kelly every night at 7:30 pm. Carmen wasn't certain what happened after she was locked in her childish prison for the night, but, from the increase in physical affection between Andrew and Kelly, she suspected that Kelly had moved into the master bedroom full time.

Worst of all, Carmen's accidents didn't get better. Instead, they got worse. Within weeks of being forced into diapers full time, Carmen was having legitimate messy accidents. She couldn't figure out why, but she had her suspicions that, somehow, Kelly was behind it.

That brought her to today. Angry after yet another messy accident, Carmen had finally confronted her Nanny about her role in her accidents. Smiling, Kelly had admitted she'd been slipping laxatives, muscle relaxers, and diuretics into Carmen's food for months. However, Kelly rightfully pointed out that even if Carmen told Andrew about Kelly's transgressions, after months of seeing his wife reduced to the status of an overgrown toddler, Andrew would never believe Carmen.

Carmen knew the beautiful, young woman was right. Continuing her tantrum, Carmen screamed out in frustration that that wasn't fair. In response, Kelly offered the babyfied woman a deal. If Carmen could hide from her Nanny in a game of hide and seek for 30 minutes, Kelly would tell Andrew everything; however, if Kelly found Carmen, Carmen had to go to Andrew and ask him to make Kelly her Mommy, permanently sealing her fate as an overgrown infant.

Confident she could win, Carmen took the deal. That confidence disappeared as soon as Kelly finished counting.

Crouched behind the couch, Carmen had accidentally placed herself in the perfect position to release a huge mess into her pants, and her body recognized it. Only moments after Kelly's announcement that she was coming to find Carmen, Carmen's ass let out a trumpeting fart.

"Oh, what was that?" Kelly asked, walking into the living room, following the tell-tale sound of her charge on the verge of a messy accident. "Is baby Carmy about to make stinkies?"

Carmen squeezed her eyes shut and focused all of her energy on keeping her pants clean. Maybe, if she stayed quiet enough, Kelly would think the sound was something else and go look elsewhere in the house. Carmen wasn't that lucky.

Moments after her Nanny entered the room, Carmen involuntarily released a torrent of shit into her diaper. Not only was her accident loud, but the smell was horrible.

"I know that sound!" Kelly said, sniffing the air, "and that smell! Pee-yew! Baby Carmy made a stinky!"

Behind the couch, Carmen turned bright red as she continued to hope against all odds that her hiding spot was good enough to keep her hidden despite her body's betrayal. Carmen couldn't live the rest of her life with Kelly as her Mommy.

Carmen heard her Nanny and tormentor sniff the air again.

"Now where could baby Carmy be?" Kelly sniffed a third time like a hound on the trail of game, getting closer.

"I know! Babies love to hide behind furniture when they make stinkies!"

Carmen screamed in frustration as she looked up and saw Kelly's face peeking over the back of the couch, grinning triumphantly.

"Found you, you little stinker! And with 29 minutes to spare!"

Carmen cried as Kelly helped extricate her from the back of the couch. This couldn't be happening! She couldn't have lost! Not in such a humiliating way!

But, as she stood there in front of her Nanny, her messy diaper drooping between her legs, Carmen knew the truth. She wasn't and never would be a big girl again. She was and always would be a loser.

"Alright, baby, you lost! Time to pay up! Go find your Daddy!"

Kelly followed Carmen as she toddled to Andrew's office and opened the door.

Andrew smiled at seeing his wife being led around by his lover.

"Hey you two, how can I help you?" He asked.

"Baby Carmy has something to tell you! It's very exciting!" Kelly said, pushing Carmen forward.

Carmen had no choice. She had lost. There was no where left for her to hide. Steeling herself, she opened her mouth.

"Daddy, could you pwease make Nanny my Mommy?"

Andrew's eyes lit up at the question. He rose from his desk, embraced his diaper clad wife, and kissed her on the forehead.

"Nothing would make me happier, Little One!"

All Carmen could do was cry as her husband then walked up to her young rival and passionately kissed her after asking her to marry him. Unfortunately for Carmen, Andrew and Kelly would forever describe her tears as tears of joy, rather than the tears of despair they truly were.

[candycandy00]

Promotion - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic

You’ll do anything to get Gojo to recommend you for a promotion to grade one! 

Written for @kuroov in exchange for making the lovely graphics for my welcome post. I hope you like it! 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. (Professional) Power Imbalance. Spit kink. Oral sex. Slight size kink. Divider by @benkeibear!

The cursed spirit in front of you writhes on the ground as it dies, remnants of your technique still glowing from its body. You whirl around to look at the man who accompanied you on today’s mission. 

“See? I did good, right?”

Gojo Satoru smiles and nods, his eyes hidden behind his blindfold. “Yeah, you did good. I didn’t have to lift a finger.”

You walk over to stand closer to him, tilting your head up to see his face. With your eyes shining, you ask, “Don’t you think I’m ready to be grade one?”

You’ve been gunning for this promotion for months now, and so far Gojo is still holding out on you. He can easily nominate you anytime he wants, and with a recommendation from someone as influential as him, that promotion would be in the bag. 

“Hmmm, I’m not so sure,” he says, his tone somewhat playful. “I need to see you in action a few more times, I think.”

You want to shout that he’s seen you “in action” plenty of times already, but you hold your tongue. You certainly don’t want to offend him at this point. “Okay. Will you come with me tomorrow then?”

“Sure, anything for my cute little kouhai,” he says, patting your head. 

You blush and look away. You’ve been trying hard to keep your relationship with Gojo purely professional, but he makes it difficult. He’s incredibly good looking, and he knows it. And he’s so flirty with practically everyone, it’s easy to see why so many of your fellow sorcerers are nursing crushes on him.  

In all honesty, you’ve got a bit of a crush yourself. 

“Let’s grab something to eat before we head back,” he suggests, casually wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You don’t think anything of it. You’ve seen him do this to plenty of other people and it seems to mean nothing to him. He’s just being friendly. 

“Okay,” you say, eager to keep his favor. You’re actually pretty tired and would like to go straight home to your apartment and go to sleep. But you desperately want this promotion, and that involves keeping Gojo happy with you. 

The two of you stop at a crepe shop on the way home and he buys treats for both of you, but has them wrapped and boxed. “We’ll eat them at my place,” he says, and you blink up at him in surprise. 

“Your place?”

He grins. “You’ve been there before. My little side apartment near the school. It’s close by so we’ll stop there to eat.”

“Oh… okay.”

You have been there before, three months ago. But you went with a few other sorcerers. Gojo was hosting a small welcome party for a new co-worker who transferred in from the Hokkaido branch. You’ve never been there alone with him, and you’re not sure how you feel about doing it now. You feel nervous, uneasy, but you also feel excited and flattered. 

Above all, you want to keep him happy. 

When you reach his apartment, he unlocks the door and stands back, gesturing for you  to go inside first. You step into the darkened room, and he steps in after you, flipping on the light switch and then closing the door behind you. The sound of it nearly makes you jump. You get the strange feeling that you’re caged in here with a predator, but it’s just Gojo, standing there slipping his blindfold off. You don’t think you’d mind being his prey. 

Instead of going to the small kitchen table to eat the crepes, he walks over to his sofa in the living room and sits down, then pats the cushion beside him. “Have a seat,” he says, opening the box in his lap and pulling out the two crepes wrapped in colorful paper. 

You do as he says, sitting down on the sofa to his left and maintaining what you feel is an appropriate distance from him. But you can’t help being extremely aware of how close the two of you actually are, how alone the two of you are in his apartment.  

He reaches you one of the crepes and opens his own. You carefully peel back the paper, not wanting to make a mess in his surprisingly neat living room. You’ve heard this is just a secondary residence he uses to be close to the school, but it appears to be well maintained. 

You glance over at Gojo as he takes a bite of his crepe. There’s something oddly sensual about the way his mouth opens, the way his lips encase the sweet treat. Is he doing it on purpose? After that first bite, he notices some cream filling on his fingers, and proceeds to lick them clean as you watch, transfixed. His eyes shift to your face and he asks, “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you say, feeling flustered as you take your first bite of your own crepe. You barely taste the thing, your mind so preoccupied with the positively lurid show Gojo is currently putting on beside you. He licks the crepe as if he’s making out with it, and his tongue flicks at the soft crust. 

He catches you watching him and smiles at you. “Wanna try mine?” 

“Huh?”

He holds his out toward your mouth. “Go ahead.”

You stare at the offered crepe, at the mound of cream filling where Gojo’s tongue has just been buried. Would he be offended if you refused? Do you even want to refuse?

“Okay, thanks,” you say, leaning forward and taking a small bite. You chew it slowly, savoring the taste. Is this what Gojo’s mouth tastes like? 

“Like it?”

You nod. “Y-yeah, it’s delicious.”

He grins at you, like he’s amused by something you’re not aware of. You go back to eating your crepe as he finishes his own, at one point getting the cream all over his fingers again. He’s such a messy eater. He puts the two cream covered fingers in his mouth, licking them as he stares at you. He coats them thoroughly in his saliva, then slowly pulls them out. They’re glistening, practically dripping. 

And then, he reaches his hand toward you, looking at you expectantly. Your heart races as you realize what he wants you to do. This is highly inappropriate, but you want to make him like you. You want to please him. So you open your mouth obediently, and his wet fingers slide in. 

He plays with your tongue as your lips reflexively close around the digits. You can taste him so clearly, you feel a fluttering in your stomach. 

“Good girl,” he says as you begin sucking his fingers, the sweet taste of the crepe lingering on his skin. He gently moves them in and out, seemingly enjoying the way your head moves forward to follow them when he pulls them back. 

“Such a cute mouth. I bet you’d like to suck something else too, wouldn’t you?” he asks, those gorgeous blue eyes watching you. 

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be doing this with your superior. This is not the way you wanted to get that promotion to grade one. But how can you refuse him? He could make or break your career. And besides… you’ve always wondered what his cock tastes like. You’ve thought about sucking him off too many times to count. 

You’re tired. You’re horny. And the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life is spreading his thighs apart on the couch beside you, unbuckling his belt. So you let him gently tug you off the couch and to your knees in front of him. When you look up, his cock is already out, inches from your face. It’s fucking huge, though you can’t say you’re surprised by that. Sitting here so low before him, his tall frame towers over you even though he’s sitting. 

With one hand, you reach up and lightly grip his shaft, then you lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue flicking over it. You press your face forward, taking more of him into your mouth, quickly coating it in your spit before it hits the back of your throat. Then your head is bobbing back and forth, your lips and tongue gliding over him as his cock is effectively shoved into your throat and then almost back out, over and over. You gag slightly, but try to suppress it. 

Glancing up at his face, you find him staring at you, wearing a pleased expression. His skin is slightly flushed, but otherwise he seems surprisingly calm for a guy getting deep throated. But his cock doesn’t lie, and it’s twitching in your mouth as you continue taking him as deep as you can without choking. 

At some point one of his hands moves to rest on your head, fingers softly curling into your hair. His breathing gets a little faster, and you know he’s close. You pull back, letting him pop out of your mouth, then your eyes meet his. “You can cum in my mouth,” you offer, opening your lips and extending your tongue like a good girl. 

His grip on your hair tightens just a little, holding your head still, and then his hot cum is shooting directly into your mouth, covering your tongue. You keep your lips parted for a few seconds, letting him watch his cum sliding around before you swallow it all. 

He rubs your head, like you’re a puppy, and grins down at you. “I knew you’d be good at this.”

You’re just catching your breath when you gaze up at him and say, “Thank you.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know what you’re thanking him for. Honestly, you don’t really know either. Your mind has been a little fuzzy since this all started. But he laughs as if he’s amused before he pulls you up by your arms and starts pulling your clothes off. You let him, having no desire to stop this now. You’ve already sucked his dick, why not go further? 

Soon, he has you face down on the couch, his strong hands holding your hips in the air as he fucks into you from behind. His body is heavy as it leans against yours, making you feel totally powerless and trapped, but it’s a feeling that thrills you more than scares you. 

Your face is pressed into the cushions, your hands gripping the plush fabric. You can hear his breaths, fast and heavy, and you can feel a satisfying stretch as his cock shoves all the way in with each thrust. 

A few minutes in, he slows his pace and bends down until his face is close to your ear. “Hey, you okay?”

You turn your head to the side to look at him. “Yeah…”

“You’re so quiet. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t… want you to stop,” you breathe out, your voice nearly a whisper. Whatever this is between the two of you, it’s way too late to back out now. So you might as well enjoy it. 

He must notice your flushed face, your glazed eyes, because he goes back to fucking you as hard as before, one hand sliding around in front of you to find your clit. You jerk from the sudden pleasure, clamping your mouth shut to keep from moaning. You hear Gojo laugh. “There we go,” he says, his finger stroking you in a rhythm that matches his thrusts. 

You bury your face in the cushion to muffle any embarrassing sounds you might make as you climax, shuddering beneath him. Minutes later, he suddenly pulls out, and you feel something warm and wet hit your bare back. 

Later, you end up falling asleep on Gojo’s couch. You wake up the next morning with a blanket draped over you. Gojo steps out of the small kitchen and hands you a cup of coffee before sitting down on the other end of the couch.  

“Good morning,” he says cheerily. You don’t know where he gets the energy. 

You sip the coffee and look at the nearby end table. Your clothes are neatly folded in a stack. 

“Do you need to go home and change before the job today?” he asks casually. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, still trying to get yourself completely woken up. 

“I’ll take you home,” he says. “Then we’ll meet up later.”

You look over at him. “You’re coming with me again?”

“Didn’t I say that yesterday? I still have to decide if you’re ready to be promoted.”

You’re wide awake now. “You’re still not sure? But… I thought…”

He looks surprised. “What? You thought I would recommend you for grade one if you slept with me?”

You feel your face burning.  “I don’t know what I thought.”

He laughs and sits his cup on a table. “Look, if I was ranking your cock sucking skills, you’d be a special grade! But that has nothing to do with this. Grade ones get sent out alone, on very dangerous missions. I don’t want you to get ripped to shreds because I recommended you without being absolutely sure you’re ready.”

You sigh and stand up to retrieve your clothes. “I understand.”

He had a point. You didn’t want to end up dead either because you were prematurely promoted. But you were surprised he cared so much. Maybe he wasn’t the egotistical asshole everyone said he was. 

Maybe you’ll let him treat you to crepes again soon. 

[anyaeras]

Extra Help || N.Romanoff

Paring || Profesor natasha x reader

Summary || The student and profesor have some unprofessional relationships. They both tend to enjoy the company of each other

Warnings || smut ,, top!Natasha ,, bottom!reader ,, AFAB!Reader ,, They/Them pronouns ,, Legal age gap ,, mention!wandnat ,, semi!public!sex ,, cunnalingus ,, strap!on ,, pet!names ,, praising ,, hair pulling if you squint.

A/N || I used a lot of Russian in this, I am a Russian speaker so work with me please.

Master list

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Up and at it, it's 11:30am which you would think would be a nice time to get up at, but not for the college student who just so happened to not get home till around 4am the "night" prior, y/n wasn't a party person, but they were a let's hang out with friends and forget about all the problems in the world kind of person which just leads them into parties.

Now very hungover, a little hungry and in a rush y/n was throwing on a quick fit, that was comfortable yet still appropriate for a college lecture, cleaning themself up, brushing through their hair, and throwing on a little bit of make up before grabbing there bag being out the dorm door by 11:50 to make it to their 12 o'clock Russian lecture.

Stumbling into the classroom a moment before the lecture would begin making direct eye contact with the Russian redhead who ran the class, now this wasn't the first time, Miss Romanoff and you had a special bond you could say, she was definitely a mentor...well and more.

Sitting in the same spot you have the whole semester. It was on the right side of the classroom nearing the front row relatively close to Romanoffs desk, you made quick eye contact, but the blaring migraine wasn't helping y/n learn anything they got to the point where they prompted to just put their head down and listen, they were pretty sure this wouldn't go over well with the older Russian, yet y/n got away with it for a hot second before feeling a tap on the shoulder, pulling them back to reality, causing them to look up seeing a taller women looking down at them with sharp green eyes, and the look alone was enough for y/n to sit up correctly in the seat.

«Stay after class милый» (sweetie) Natasha bent down to say that to you softly, already having given out the assignment, the class was distracted by the devices going through the digital worksheets, quickly picking up on this you nodded to what Natasha had said but quickly got it work so you didn't look out of place.

The lecture went on about verb conjugations for another hour, the Russian lecture would only meet two times a week, yet you seemed to be meeting with Natasha Romanoff, to which the class called миссис Романов (miss Romanov) to keep It more professional, yet the Russian professor had explained multiple times, she didn't enjoy being called miss as it was seen as calling her old in Russia, but it was hard to break the American school system habits these young adults had formed over many years of schooling.

The class went on, yet y/n was far distracted, more worried about being asked to stay after class rather then learning more Russian, she was sure Natasha maybe even her wife would be willing to tutor the younger learner.

Slowly students begin packing up their electronics and putting their notes back into their bags before heading out, yet y/n didn't move for at least 2 minutes, then even slower they managed to pack up their items into their bag, they aren't scared of Natasha they just enjoy playing games, if you know what I mean? Finally sitting up and making their way towards the front of the room where Natasha stood waiting, yet they didn't stay there long.

"I have some work to get done, I'd like to move to my office" the Russian stated before leading the younger one to her office, which was only a few doors away from the lecture hall, yet every step the professors heels clicked on the floor echoing through the clean university hallways.

Unlocking the door with the keycard which is usually sat around the Russians neck digitally unlocking the door before shutting the door behind the two of them and locking it with a click.

«Late night детка?» Natasha asked softly yet with strong demands behind her voice pressing for an answer.

"I just went out nothing much" y/n responded nonchalantly to the older women, knowing damn well you were getting over a hangover still, and really weren't feeling one of the lectures coming your way, knowing it would get back to Wanda making you have two upset hot women on your plate.

"Y/n I'm sure you didn't let anyone touch what's ours" Natasha asked, she trusted you, so did her wife, yet y/n is a college kid so it's always imported to check.

"Of course not! I would never disrespect you guys like that!" Y/n snapped back being shut off with a kiss from Natasha.

«so good for us Моя дорогой » (my dear) Natasha praised continuing to kiss the younger ones lips before moving down to their semi-exposed chest and neck leaving small love bites along the way.

"Now I need to get some work done, while I do that do you think you could be good for me милый?" It was more of an order as it came from the red heads mouth, soft yet stern, she reached for your wrist guiding you to her desk before pushing you under it, there was plenty of room for you, plus you were hidden, as the older professor sat down in her chair, moving closer you could now see directly up her skirt, where she had no panties, giving you easy access to her core.

Y/n knew what she wanted from them without the Russian even needing to be explicated about it, as the red head started to grade papers it was almost to much as she felt y/n's mouth get to work, eating her out with skill, and what can the older women say, she's who taught y/n how so she was aware of how well y/n was with their mouth.

Muffled moans came from Natasha who was trying to not be to loud, as the sounds of sex filled the room.

«Just like that детка» Natasha prompted as she wrapped her fingers into the younger ones hair, pulling y/n into her closer then they thought was even possible, as she reached her climax practically grinding on y/n's face, Natasha raised her hand to her mouth to muffle her scream as she finally let go onto y/n

Natasha moved back from her seat at her desk after a moment, pulling herself together, before helping y/n off their knees, and into her lap, quickly pulling y/n in for a deep kiss, which didn't brake until they both were desperate for air.

"So good for me I think you deserve a reward hmm?" Natasha stated with her smirk plastered on her face

The Russian stood up picking up y/n along the way moving them onto the desk they clean off prior, setting y/n down leaving them with a sloppy kiss before parting ways. Without a word Natasha stepped back walking over towards a file cabinet, which held more then files that was for sure, pulling on a specific handle, a box, which looked nothing out of the ordinary sat inside the cabinet. Both people in the room knew the truth about that box, as Natasha reached inside pulling out a faux cock and a harness, sliding it up getting the harness situated onto her hips.

The older women made her way back to the college kid sitting on her desk, swaying her hips along the way, eventually stopping between y/n's legs. Natasha tapped on y/n's pants as a way of asking for consent to remove their clothing getting eager nods from y/n, as they even helped Natasha strip them of their clothes before sitting back on top of her russian teachers desk.

«Hmm let's see, maybe you learned something in my class, tell my what you want На русском?» (In Russian) Natasha was playing with fire, now messing with y/n, she knew y/n tried in her class, she's known that ever since y/n started coming to Her wife, and herself for extra Russian help, which may have lead to more than 'russian help' yet, you could say their doing just fine in the class. Y/n had to think about it for a moment, their Russian wasn't fluent at all, so they knew this would be a struggle by they did know how to curse and how to say ''me'

«Черт возьми меня» (fuck me) slipped past y/n's lips as they hoped that would be enough to get Natasha just to fucking ruin her.

"Ahh so good for me, it seems you picked up some words I haven't gone over yet" the professor joked before lining up, she slipped the faux dick threw y/n's folds getting it slick before lining up, slowly sliding in, whispering sweet nothing while doing so, allowing y/n a moment to adjust to the size.

"Y-you can move" y/n managed to stutter out, it's not like y/n was a virgin it's just Natasha was rather large.

With y/n's okay, Natasha started to pull out before trusting back in, she moved slowly yet trusted back in hard causing y/n to Yelp with the first trust, a low groan came from y/n's mouth. Natasha started to pick up speed, groaning as she listened to y/n's moans fill her ears, she eventually started to rut into y/n's forcing y/n to use Natasha to stabilize themself enough while balancing on the office desk.

"Fuck nat!" Y/n yelled out as Natasha was quick to move one of her hands to cover y/n's mouth, in hopes to muffle the yell as they were both still in a place of profession. Natasha was well aware y/n was coming close to her climax, to which the Russian started to use her hand which you removed from y/n's mouth to stimulate their clit, which was enough to push y/n over the edge causing them to let out loud moan holding onto Natasha tightly as they let go, evidently collapsing on top of their professor after.

Natasha held y/n close for a moment helping her come down from her high, helping the younger one relax before pulling out and starting to clean up.

After Natasha had cleaned up her office, she went back to y/n giving them a soft kiss on their lips before helping them get re-dressed after she dressed herself of course.

Looking over at her phone Natasha saw a missed text from her wife, which read.

«Bring them home for dinner, you can share Моя любовь»

The message brought a smirk to Natasha's face, packing up her items before turning to y/n.

"Come on sweetie, the misses is waiting" was all Natasha said, and that was enough for y/n to gain her composure and follow behind the red head right out the door.

[nenelonomh]

emotional intelligence

emotional intelligence is your ability to perceive, understand, manage and use your own emotions in positive ways to relieve stress, communicate effectively, empathize with others, overcome challenges, and defuse conflict. it involves a set of skills that help you recognise, understand, and influence the emotions of yourself and others.

the key components of emotional intelligence are self-awareness, self-regulation, motivation, empathy, and social skills. emotional intelligence is considered a critical factor for success in life because it helps you navigate social complexities, lead and motivate others, and excel in your personal and professional life. some experts suggest that emotional intelligence can be learned and strengthened, while others believe it is an innate characteristic.

an example of emotional intelligence in action is the ability to approach situations in a healthy, curious manner rather than an angry frustrated one. instead of reprimanding when someone is not acting according to standard, you can ask the person if everything is okay and listen attentively, understanding that there can be external factors affecting the other's behaviour.

by managing your emotions, and remaining calm and supportive during similar conversations, you can create a safe space for the other person to open up, and solve issues without further drama or difficulties. after you learn the change in their behaviour, you can offer support and adjust your actions to accommodate for the other persons needs.

if everyone practised a little more emotional intelligence, the world would wholly be a better place.

but let me stress this: emotional intelligence does not in any way mean changing yourself so other people can operate better. it is not being nice, it is having empathy and awareness.

let's further explore the different aspects of emotional intelligence:

self-awareness: the ability to recognise your own emotions and how they affect your thoughts and behaviour.

self-regulation: being able to manage your emotions and adapt to challenging circumstances.

motivation: to harness emotions to stay focused on your personal goals.

empathy: the ability to understand the emotions of others and respond appropriately.

social skills: to be able to build and maintain good relationships through effective communication and conflict resolution.

i already touched on misunderstanding emotional intelligence as simply being nice, but there are several common mistakes that can hinder emotional intelligence.

high emotional intelligence can sometimes be used manipulatively, influencing others without considering their best interests. this is not right! while manipulation may yield immediate results, it can have long-term negative consequences. it creates a toxic environment, hinders genuine connection and stifles growth. not to mention that depending on the context, manipulative behaviour can have legal consequences and lead to social ostracism.

emotional intelligence requires openness and vulnerability, and being too guarded can prevent the development of meaningful relationships. being guarded limits self-awareness, which is a key component of emotional intelligence. it does this by not allowing you to fully acknowledge or understand your own emotions.

to end on a more positive note, here is how you can build stronger emotional intelligence:

practice active listening: pay attention to what others are saying without interrupting. listen to understand, not just to respond.

emotional awareness: acknowledge your emotions, especially the uncomfortable ones. accept them as a normal part of life and learn from them.

identify emotions within others: pay attention to body language, tone of voice, and facial expressions to better understand how others are feeling.

understand your stressors: know what triggers your stress and build strategies to manage it. this can help you to remain calm and clear-headed in challenging situations.

healthily channel your emotions: find constructive outlets for your emotions, such as exercise, meditation, or creative activities. engaging in creative tasks allows for contemplation, giving you the space to reassess problems in your life and make plans.

develop empathy: try to see things from others' perspectives. empathy builds connection and trust.

improve social skills: work on communication, conflict resolution and cooperation. these skills are vital for building strong relationships.

self-regulation: learn to control impulsive feelings and behaviours. pause and think before acting. self-regulation leads to better decision-making and letting you avoid impulsive reactions that you might regret later. it enables you to handle pressures and challenges effectively.

self-reflection: regularly reflect on your behaviour and emotions. ask yourself why you do the things you do and how you can improve.

seek feedback. be open to constructive criticism and use it as a means to grow. ask trusted friends or colleagues for their honest opinions about your behaviour.

remember that emotional intelligence is not fixed; it can be developed and enhanced over time with practice and commitment. by focusing on these areas of improvement, you can increase your emotional intelligence, improving your interactions and relationships in all areas of life.

i hope today's post was helpful! ❤️ nene

(photo credit: pinterest)

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Presentation E.S x FEM! Reader

Overture- You had a research job with Ray and Egon, and all of that work ends today with one presentation. But Ray and Egon are acting so weird.

CWs- Reader is described as wearing a short skirt and black tights

A/N- This is actually day 6, I just had a lot going on and I ran late. Day 8 will be posted tonight or tomorrow. Also I'm not a science girl, so this is probably wildly inaccurate to how research collaborations actually end, but we'll just pretend.

Today was the day. You, Ray, and Egon had to present everything you found in front of a board of your peers.  You worked in the same lab for months, doing private research on psycho-reactive substances, and it was finally time for it to end. But Ray and Egon were acting so weird today, it was freaking you out. 

It started when you went to meet them in the lobby of the building. As soon as you walked up to them, they got all serious, straightening their posture while Ray tried to stop laughing, and Egon tried to keep the annoyed look off of his face. 

“Hey guys, are you ready?” They were both in suits, and you made a conscious decision to look at the floor, because Egon was wearing a full suit, with a sweater vest even, and you wouldn’t be able to stop staring. 

“Hey you look nice! The presentation is on the 9th floor.” Ray was always such a sweetheart. 

“Thanks! You guys look really good too.” That time you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, just a little bit. You sort of hoped Egon would ask you out when you started working with him. But your working relationship was just about over, and he never really showed interest in you. 

“I’ve never seen you this dressed up.” The black nylon tights with such a short skirt were getting Egon more than a little overwhelmed. He was a grown man, who had a career-making presentation in less than 30 minutes, yet he couldn’t manage to talk to his colleague because he could kind of see her thighs. He hated himself right now, even more than he hated Ray for teasing him about his little crush the entire way over, and while they were waiting in the lobby. 

Ray didn’t even realize Egon’s crush on you until a little over a week ago, when he declined checking on his fungus samples because he was in the middle of a conversation with you. It wasn’t even work-related. But since then, Ray’s singular mission in life has been to get Egon to finally ask you out, by teasing, or encouragement; whatever it takes. 

“Yeah, it’s not really lab appropriate, but I was running low on options for professional clothing.” 

“You look–lovely.” 

“Thank you Egon.” After a few seconds of trying to keep from overly smiling, Egon cleared his throat, and elected to look past your shoulder instead of directly at you. 

“We–uh should probably get going, if we're going to have enough time to prepare.” You nodded in affirmation and the three of you moved towards the elevators. 

“After you.” Ray held the elevator door open for you, nudging Egon on the shoulder as soon as you got in. 

You waited outside the conference room, and ran through your presentation one more time, before they called you in. It went as well as it possibly could have. You spent almost 10 minutes celebrating in the hallway before Ray not so graciously excused himself. He couldn’t think of a reason why, just giving Egon a pat on the back and walking down the hall. For a moment you sat in silence, going over your notes one more time, to make sure you covered everything before Egon cleared his throat once again.

“Now that our working relationship is ending, I was wondering if you would like to begin a romantic endeavor with me.”

“You mean like a date?” You couldn’t believe he was actually asking you out. In the most formal and professional way humanly possible. 

“Yes–that’s. Yes. Would you like to go on a date with me?”  he’d switched from doing anything to keep from making eye contact, to never looking away. 

“I’d love to. I didn’t think you liked me in that way.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable while we were working together.” 

“You wouldn’t have, but yes I’d love to go out with you. How about tonight? We can celebrate.”

“That sounds quite nice.” You leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, Ray was coming back, so you waved goodbye to him before heading home to get ready.

[millennialsarecoolkidz]

Shipping should be fun, for the shippers and the shipped. I'll never try to policing feelings or thoughts but the fandom needs to learn to behave. If your emotions or thoughts make you a hater, you need to step back (and go to hell maybe). On the other hand, critical thinking is fair game and I would like to address two rebukes against Nic I've seen a lot lately: the hic given by relationship with a big age gap and the gaslighting towards fans.

First, the issue with age gap is definitely a real one. My problem is that she hasn't confirmed her relationship with Jake. What we know is what she has said in interviews: that she thinks people at Jake's age are babies / too young for her. When she's asked about her crushes, she always chooses people age appropriate and, for what we know, it would be the first time she's with someone that young. And even if she's with him, she seems to try to deviate that narrative. I mean yes maybe Jake was on her lock screen but she didn't want it to be seen. What she wanted us to see was her picture with Golda, holding her hand with intertwined fingers. What she wanted us to know is that she feels lucky when she can bring friends to events and talk with them as they are getting ready. And she made it clear that she wasn't happy with the pap pics and that DM is often BS. So, at least, she's clearly not promoting this kind of relationship. Maybe because they are not dating, maybe because she wants privacy or maybe because it could hurt her professionally. The point is: she sees the issue and is not sending the message that this kind of relationship is unproblematic.

I read also a lot, especially on Twitter, that she's not consistent and that she is gaslighting fans. It is said about two topics: her ask for privacy and the Lukola shipping.

About her asking for privacy and the way she brings Jake everywhere, and used her relationship with Luke to promote a show, I'll say what I've already said about her behavior with Jake, she won't change her behavior because of what we are saying. She's unashamedly herself, we love it when it's about her political awareness, her cute unhinged behaviors, her Queen statements, ... So we can't be mad at her when it's about Jake. If she feels she's right, she won't be afraid of the consequences, we've seen it with her advocacy for Palestinians. And she's kinda right here too, there is a difference between what is given and what is taken from you, there is a difference between stories posted by her, pics taken with her consent and stolen pics. Yes you can act accordingly to reality (and hide your bf/ rumored bf because there is no privacy when you are a celebrity) or you can act accordingly to your values and what you think reality should be. Nic has made her choice.

She's also accused of gaslighting fans about her relationship with Luke.

First I've read that she's hurting Luke when she entertains the ship while he stays quiet. It's crazy how people don't have memory when it's about sm. Luke does it too guys, and he's probably the one who keeps me on the ship because yes it's less often but it's crazier imho. Of course there are the jealousy, the staring, the check on her boobs, the bum pinching, the sneaky touchings, the moment in Brazil when he was putting Nic's hand on parts of his body that are not for friends or the infamous "I could be the Ken for hEeErr" (among other crazy things), but given the timing, let's say it was all PR (it wasn't). But after the 90 days, we had the story with the bloopers which he had to download from Twitter then cut to post as stories on IG (why Luke why?), the 3rd October post which doesn't make sense without the Lukola context, and the shared selfie. (We can also speculate about the wink to Nic biscuits'post in his Spain dump, the copy of Nic's font, the use of the Xx/xx, the "somewhere in Mayfair", his hands in HB post about Nic's fitting, ...). Yes it's less Lukola/polin content than Nic but look at his sm activity, proportionally it's huge. He barely posts about his fashion appearance, criquets about Viana, some hotel promotions and that's it, the rest is about Lukola (not even Polin in fact). So no I don't think Luke is hurt by Nic entertaining the shipping, they're doing it together.

So some fans feel betrayed by Nic because she has posted some Easter eggs implying she's dating Luke. I think it's unfair to say that. I agree she hasn't completely shut down the "more than friends" allegations. She keeps saying the same as they were saying during the tour: they are friends (not just friends) and blablabla about the unique relationship they have and that there is love, and oc no mention of a partner. So no, she's not really closing the door, but she's definitely not saying something is happening rn. And let's be honest, she has friendzoned Luke a lot. I'm the first one saying it always has been coupled with mixed messages, again not closing the door but not saying something is happening. The other Easter eggs are songs, the ring, the font, and a few posts about how great Luke is, the polaroid and the shared selfie. Nothing saying they are together rn. Everything about: Luke is important to her, and is kinda always on her mind. I'm not saying it's crazy to be a ring truther or to say the meeting with her family was meaningful, there are hints showing you could be right but you can't be sure. So you can't blame Luke and Nic if you were wrong and didn't understand their message.

I'm not a hypocrite, yes they're playing some games with the shipping, but it could just be fan service. It would be unfair to say they've said they were together.

Now why are they doing it and why don't they clarify their relationship with Jake and Antonia? Big question and that post is already way too long...

[angstics]

On rewatch, max seemed to be going through a certain kind of Nightmare during “gay week” that Must be attributed to a turbulent episode of internalized homophobia.

My textual evidence is: his confusion / discomfort over being referred to as “daddy”, his almost panicked reaction to avery talking about the threeway (he mentions “the pact” three different times while tristan is open to it… max seems very embarrassed and wary), of course the awkwardness with tristan. There’s also a general air of coldness from him the whole episode. He smiles a few times, but there is a Noticeable Pitch Drop in his voice. Like it’s wild to watch Any other episode then this. Jj flowers

He is going THRU some shit. And im not sure why? He liked the threeway (“wonderful”), he has 0 awkwardness with avery (smiles at her, no tension with her), he doesn’t particularly Fight for avery (doesnt ask her to choose). The tristan fight is the symptom of something big. I guess from their sexual encounter to the quiet to the awkwardness to the throuple suggestion to the tension to the professional fight to the increased tension eased by cap to the apology and relationship breakdown. then he smiles at them.

I feel like. You can see when the tension became intense. Right when avery brings It Up. Then max gets jealous? I feel like. That isnt the appropriate response OR response time. Also during the initial talk, he KEPT trying to shut it down. Thats actually the only thing he says. He doesnt sound jealous. He sounds ashamed. Like i said, embarrassed. Over what? Sharing a girl? Would he have felt this awkward if he slept with her then later she slept with tristan? No. You know how i know. Because he didnt really do anything when tristan and avery kissed and he saw. Afair. And you know what.???? It couldn’t even have been he was ashamed of doing weird sex because hed ALREADY done a threeway. And he called it BAD because they were more into each other. YOU KNOW WHAT HE CALLED THIS AVERY TRISTAN THREEWAY? WONDERFUL!!!

The distressing part was that it was good for everyone. Two people Werent more into each other than with a third. Uh oh! There’s no third he realizes!!! The angry embarrassed ashamed part has to be from the total enjoyment he had. Which necessitates sexual pleasure from whatever Tristan was doing, and seeing Avery & Tristan together. Ergo. #InternailzedHomophobia

Theres a billion more things to talk about. Like the vagueness of Tristan’s sexuality, all the IMPLICATIONS throughout the show in terms of max’s sexuality, the episode’s marked separation btwn Gay People and max & tristan. The theme of “too much” and what that means in a tv show ABOUT indulgence. Ummm!!!!