#Skip Hire Grays

[wriothesleybear]

Best friend's Bachelorette Party

~a/n: Inspired by on the most beautiful fanart I've seen on twitter by minoru_uwuarts. Here’s a Christmas present for my fellow Wrio lovers. Probably my last fic to end the year. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Enjoy!🥰❤️

~warnings: some plot, smut, male stripping, mentions of blowjob, cunnilingus, jerking off, fingering, squirting, consent, gentle face fucking, ends in some fluff, fem!reader, MDNI!

~summary: Being the maid of honor, you throw your best friend a bachelorette party and order a male stripper. He tells you to meet him in the guest bedroom after the party. You took him up on his offer and it was not disappointing...

~word count: 5.9k

Being the maid of honor was a very busy job. The jobs included helping prepare for the wedding, getting invitation cards ready and sent out in the mail, helping the bride choose her dream wedding dress, and many other jobs. One of them included the bachelorette party. Your best friend said anything you planned was fine for her party because she trusted your tastes. In the past, you remember she mentioned wanting to get a stripper. Being the maid of honor, you wanted to fulfill her one and only bachelorette party of her dreams, so you did as she asked.

You've never ordered a stripper before or even gone to a strip club. It was a bit of an embarrassing new experience but it was for your best friend! While searching online for the best professional strippers who had good reviews and made house calls, you came upon a website called Celestial Temptations. It was a very fancy and elegant website that had a list of many different types of professional male strippers. They showed a picture of each gentleman with a personal description below it. Scrolling through the many types of male strippers was a bit exciting and made it difficult to choose which one to hire because they all looked gorgeous and sexy. You kept in mind what your best friend's taste was in men while deciding. You came across one in particular that caught your eye. His name was ‘The Duke’. He was a buff, handsome man with black and gray hair with part of it looking like animal ear tufts. Scars littered his skin but they added to his beauty. He wore a professional business suit that was open to show his torso and chest, tie loose as he pulled on it in the picture. You rubbed your thighs together, already getting excited just from his picture alone.

His description read: The Duke. "A man of mystery who will do anything to please a woman. "

You were already taken in by the picture of this man but his description just pulled you in more. Clicking on his profile, you get more information about him like his age, height, likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, etc. You click on the 'order services' button and put in your information and payment, all the while, your heart is pounding with excitement. You get a confirmation email, telling you that the order went through and The Duke was booked for your best friend's bachelorette party. This was going to be an interesting party..

~

The night of the bachelorette party finally came and you were excited for your best friend to have the best time of her life tonight. Deep down, you were also a little excited about the 'special entertainment'. While the soon-to-be bride and guests were busy opening gifts, the doorbell rang. You figured it was the long-awaited entertainment. "I'll get it!" You hurry to answer the door, making sure that everyone is preoccupied with the bride. You open the front door to see a tall, handsome man that looks exactly like the man from the picture that you ordered for. A charming smile graces his facial features. A smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"y/n, right?" You lose your train of thought when you hear his deep voice but soon snap out of it.

"Um yes! That's me. The Duke, correct?" He gives you a flirty smile and replies yes. You blush. "Follow me. I'll show you where you can get ready." Opening the door wider, you let him in and close it behind him as he scans the front room of the house. He then turns to you, smiling, "Lead the way." You lead him to a spare bedroom down the hall. As he followed you, he kept checking you out from behind without you knowing.

You open the door to the guest bedroom, letting him enter first. "Here you go, you can prepare in here and we'll do the show in the living room where everyone currently is." He sets down a bag on the bed and already begins to take off his jacket. You're able to see his back muscles flex through his shirt. His deep voice breaks your daze. "No problem. I'll be ready in five." He says as he turns to you, giving you another one of his charming smiles. You quickly turn around and get ready to leave but then he stops you. "Oh, and make sure you get a front room seat. I do a little something special for those who catch my eye." He teasingly says. Instead of turning around and replying, you simply shut the door. Leaning your back against it, you try to calm your beating heart. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and also between your thighs. You're finally able to calm down and gather yourself, pushing those feelings down. He says that to a lot of women probably. It's not that special, you think to yourself.

You head back to the living room to see that everyone has finished watching the bride-to-be open her presents. You gather everyone's attention. "Alright, ladies! We have a special show for everyone, especially for the main lady of the night." Noises of excitement and curiosity fill the room. You turn the bride's chair around so she's facing towards the hallway where the entertainment should enter from. "I remember you asked for a very special entertainment for your bachelorette party. So, I did my duty as maid of honor to fulfill that wish." Your best friend gets all giddy, getting an idea of what this 'special entertainment' could be. “Would it have something to do with that metal pole you installed today?” She points to the stripping pole connected to the floor and ceiling nearby in the room. You smirk, acting oblivious. “I’m not sure. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You grab a blindfold from your pocket and wrap it around the bride's head, covering her eyes. You dim the lights and turn the stereo on to play some sexy music to get everyone in the mood. Everyone begins to chant and cheer for the 'special entertainment' to come out, the bride especially.

Wrio hears the music play and the women calling for him so he takes that as his cue. He opens the door and walks down the hall towards the living room where the audience is waiting. All the women cheer as soon as he enters the room. His charming, seductive smile added to the sexy aura that surrounded him. "This must be the lucky lady." He walks towards your best friend and kneels before her. You remove the blindfold covering her eyes and once her sight focuses, it lands on the handsome man in front of her. She blushes as he takes her hand in his, leaving a kiss on the back of it. "I'm The Duke. I hear you're getting married soon. I better do my best to make your last night as an unmarried woman the most memorable one ever." Squeals and cheers fill the room once again, letting the man know to start the show. You take a seat nearby, grab a specialty drink, and take a swig of it.

While checking out The Duke, you notice he changed his outfit from earlier. He's now wearing a black suit with a red tie around his neck. His pants fit snuggly to his legs, accentuating his nice ass. Pulling on his suit jacket, he takes it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Oh god, how can this man make taking off a simple jacket so sexy? Next, he begins to loosen his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. Whistles fill the room when he completely removes his shirt, showing his buff body and muscles. Your eyes scan his bare upper body, admiring his chiseled abs, ripped arms, and the scars that litter his skin. He grabs the blindfold from the floor, wrapping it around his eyes and tying it.

He walks over to the bride, and grabs the bottom of her chair, moving her to be positioned right in front of the stripper pole. “Gotta have front-row seats to the show.” His hips sway to the beat of the music as he grabs onto the metal pole and swings on it. He’s able to effortlessly climb the pole to the top of it, with his back to you as you can admire his ass and back muscles that flex when he grabs the pole. Wrapping his legs securely around it, he leans back until he’s facing the audience upside down. His hands grip the pole between his legs, holding him as he slowly slides down the pole. Screams and cheers fill the room once again. A flirty smirk covers his face from hearing the ladies cheer for him. Calling out to the bride seated in front of him, he tells her to take his blindfold off. Wasting no time, she unties the blindfold, letting it drop to the floor. The sight of his blue eyes gazing intently at her while doing his signature smile would make any woman’s legs turn into jelly. He slowly slides himself down the pole, face right in front of her legs. He uses one hand to grab her leg, positioning it to the side of his head as his hand moves up her leg to her thigh, making the bride blush. He removes his hand before going any further, leaving her wanting more.

He turns his head to where you’re sitting, eyes landing on you. Winking at you, he beckons you over with a finger. You’re hesitant, not wanting to take the attention away from the bride-to-be, but she walks over to you, grabs you by the hand and pulls you over to her seat in front of him. Plopping you down, you make eye contact with The Duke, his gaze sending tingles down your body. He uses both of his hands to slide up your legs, slowly easing up to your thighs. Similar to what he did to the bride but with you, he doesn’t stop himself at a certain point. Hands move further up to the inside of your thighs, almost touching your core. Blushing and slightly embarrassed from knowing people are watching, you try to close your legs but he prevents you from doing it. He chuckles at your actions. Removing his hand, he grabs your hand, pulling it to his abs to feel it. The feel of his soft, chiseled abs does something to you. You get entranced by the feel of them, slowly rubbing your fingers up and down his stomach. He brings your hand to his mouth, leaving a sweet, short kiss on the palm. Suddenly, he pulls you by the hand so your face is near his, eyes widened with surprise. He whispers in your ear, Meet me in the guest bedroom after the show. Your thighs clench together as heat goes down to your core from his mysterious words. He releases his grip on your arm, allowing you to pull away. You’re in a daze from your small interaction with him, but a cheer of “mores” from the guests breaks you out of your trance. You gain your composure and get up from the seat, allowing the bride to sit back down to have her turn again. Walking back to your seat, you’re left wondering what he meant with his words. What would happen if you did meet him in the guest bedroom after the party? The curiosity eats at you, leaving you wanting more. He knows the effect he has on you. That was his plan after all.

~

Once the entertainment was done, the party was officially over and the guests began to leave. You close the door once the last guest leaves. Joining your best friend on the couch, you're exhausted. Your best friend tells you how much she enjoyed the party and thanks you for it while hugging you as her words are slurred. She's wasted. You laugh, laying her down and putting a blanket over her. Once she settles down, she brings something to your attention.

"I think the stripper has the hots for you."

"What?" You pause, surprised by what she said.

"Yeah, I could tell how he looks at you, especially during the special dance he gave you."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's just him acting for his job."

"Nope, I can tell. I'm psychic and I know he has the hots for you. He's probably waiting in the guest bedroom for you right now. You should go in there and see." She says, her words slurring more as she begins to get sleepier. "If you don't go in there and fuck him, you're not my maid of honor anymore."

Rolling your eyes and laughing at her. "Whatever you say. You're drunk. Go to sleep." She begins to snore, signaling that she's passed out. You think about what she said in her drunk rant. You can't help the thoughts of what if she's right. Shaking your head, you ignore the thoughts and head to the guest bedroom where The Duke is waiting. You knock on the door and hear his deep voice saying Come in.

Opening the door, you see him sitting on the bed, legs spread. "I was wondering if you'd take me up on my invitation." He stands up and walks over to you. Your back leans against the door as he hovers over you. He cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your lips. He thinks about how nice they'd feel against his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, he presses his lips to yours. You feel the sparks as his lips finally touch yours. Hot, passionate kisses that take your breath, making it hard to breathe. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring and intertwining with yours. You feel like you’re suffocating, but it feels so good. His kisses are addicting. His hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "Raise your arms." Raising your arms, he pulls your shirt up over your head.

Once he discards it to the floor, he pulls you back into a kiss. Rough, calloused hands explore your upper half. Starting from your hips, up to your waist, and around to your back to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor. His large hands cup your breasts, groping and pinching your nipples. You moan into the kiss. With an arm around your waist, he slightly bends down, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucks, as his free hand fondles the other. The tip of his tongue plays with the tip of your bud, hardening it. The feeling of your bud hardening under his tongue makes him moan. Your head falls back as moans leave your lips due to the pleasure. You comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your chest. He switches to giving your other breast the same treatment with his tongue, playing with the previous one with his hand.

Once he's done giving your breasts attention, he moves back up and kisses you while his hands move down to your thighs. He enjoys the feel of your soft, squishy thighs. If only they could be wrapped around his head. "Jump". Jumping, he catches you by the back of your thighs as your legs wrap around his waist. Not breaking the kiss, he carries you over to the guest bed, pushing you down onto it. His lips travel down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys. Your legs tighten around his hips, holding him close as you grind against his crotch, looking for some friction. "Someone's eager for my cock." He chuckles and teases.

The smirk leaves his face as your hand cups his cock through his pants, his breath hitching when you rub it. He grabs both of your hands, holding them against the bed next to your head. "Patience. I'll fill your pussy with my cock soon but first, I need a little taste." He litters kisses down your chest to your stomach. Letting go of your hands, he moves to the button on your jeans, unbuttoning it and pulling your pants down your legs. Tossing it to the floor, he spreads your legs and notices a wet spot on your panties. "Already wet for me and I've barely done anything." Fingers move to rub against the wet spot, making you moan. He leans down to lay on his stomach, switching his fingers with his lips. He kisses your pussy through your underwear, the wet spot growing. He experiments with the tip of his tongue, rubbing it against you. You groan from the little friction but it's still not enough. "More please." You quietly beg.

He moves your underwear to the side, enjoying the sight of your bare pussy. "Beautiful." You get embarrassed as he just lays there, admiring your pussy. "Don't just stare." You blush as you try to close your legs but he blocks you from doing that. "Sorry, I can't help myself." He shows his apology by rubbing his fingers between your folds, finally touching your pussy to help relieve the stress from the long wait. You gasp out at the feel of his rough fingers on your most sensitive spot. Rubbing your clit, one finger prods at your entrance, slowly teasing it. You whimper, silently telling him more. He pushes his finger inside you, feeling your tightness. He begins to slowly pump his finger, testing the pace as he rubs your clit. Moans fill his ears as he quickens his pace. You're already close, feeling the warmth in your lower belly. When you're about ready to cum, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you disappointed. "I'd prefer it if you came on my tongue for your first orgasm."

Slipping your underwear off and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, he spreads your legs wide, giving him full access to your core. It's a bit embarrassing but that soon leaves your mind once his mouth latches on your pussy. You moan aloud at the new sensation. His mouth was much more pleasurable than his fingers. His tongue licks your clit, switching between flicking his tongue and sucking. Your head falls back as you intertwine your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. You already begin to feel that pleasurable warmth again in your lower belly when the pace of his tongue quickens. His tongue moves to circle your entrance, before sliding into you. He uses his thumb to rub your clit as his tongue explores your insides. The simultaneous pleasure finally pushes you over the edge as you cum on his tongue. Your sweet flavor decorates his taste buds. He groans from the delicious taste, the vibrations of his moans, and his continuous motions helping you to ride out your high.

You begin to feel overstimulated, wanting a break, but he wants more. "Gimmie more. I know you can." He replaces his tongue with two fingers, pumping them into you at a quick pace as his tongue flicks and laps at your clit. It feels so good but too much at the same time. You're not sure if you want to push his head away or pull him closer to your core. You begin to feel the warmth again, more intense this time. "Come on. Come for me. Come on my face, beautiful." He says against your pussy as he continues to pump his fingers and lick your clit at a fast pace. The warmth finally snaps in your belly. You squirt on his face, your sweet nectar filling his mouth as he tries to devour all of it, not wanting any drop to be wasted. Your beautiful moans fill his ears as he continues, his pace unrelenting. This causes you to quickly come again, tears filling your eyes at the immense pleasure. Something you've never felt before. You want more.

He begins to slow his ministrations, helping you calm down from your three climaxes. Rubbing your thighs and leaving a kiss on your pussy, it causes your thighs to twitch and a whine to leave your lips from the sensitivity. He moves back up to your face, melting his lips against yours, making you taste yourself as his tongue intertwines with yours. "Want to taste my cock now?" You eagerly nod your head, wanting to return the favor. "Good girl." He pecks your lips and gets up to stand at the edge of the bed. "On your knees." You shakily move yourself to your knees on the bed, face right in front of his covered cock. He stays silent, waiting for you to unbutton his pants.

Your hands move over to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them. He's still dressed in his underwear but you can see the large outline of his cock. You grope him through his underwear, admiring the length of it. "Look who's being the tease now." You look up, eyes meeting his. You notice the dark lust in his eyes, silently begging you to free his cock. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock springs out as his underwear falls to his feet. You gape at the sight of his cock. Large and thick with a vein lining the bottom of it. "Like the view?" His voice breaks you out of your trance. You nod your head. "Good. Now wrap your hand around it." Wrapping your fingers around his thick length, you slowly move your hands into an up-and-down motion. You spit on his cock to make it easier to jerk him off. “Suck my cock.” You lick his tip, swirling your tongue around his head, and insert it into your mouth. Sucking on his tip, you slowly take him inch by inch. His thick girth is overwhelming but feels so exciting. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail, moving your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you sucking his cock. “Good girl. Try to take a bit more. Show me how good you are at sucking cock.” His lustful words turn you on more. You want to please him.

You slide him out of your mouth, a pop sound is heard when you remove your mouth from his tip. Moving his cock up, you place your tongue on the base of his cock, near his balls. Keeping eye contact with him, you lick a long stripe up on the underside of his cock, all the way to the tip, and slip him back into your warm mouth. You go at a medium pace while sucking his cock, continuing the deep eye contact, causing him to twitch in your mouth. “Fuck. You really do know how to suck cock, don’t ya?” You moan in reply, the vibrations around his cock making his breath hitch. “Can I fuck your mouth?” A muffled ‘mhm' is heard as you give him consent. Holding your head in place, he begins to gently thrust into your mouth. You relax your jaw and place your hands on his thighs as you let him use your mouth.

Looking up, the view above you is glorious. He’s looking down at you, watching you intently. When you lick one of his sensitive spots on his cock, he moans. Hearing his moans makes you happy, knowing that you’re able to make this hot man feel immense pleasure. Wanting to hear more of his moans, you use one of your hands to massage his balls as you suck his cock more. Curses leave his mouth as his head falls back with his eyes closed. You’re making him go crazy. He’s never felt this much pleasure before. But it’s not enough, he wants more of you.

He pulls you by your makeshift ponytail, pulling you off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees for me." Listening to him, you turn around, getting on your knees and hands. He rubs the side of your thighs, up towards your ass, and gropes it. Grabbing his cock and giving it a few pumps, he rubs his cock head between your folds, teasing your clit. You slightly whine, wanting more, you shake your ass. He chuckles. “Patience beautiful. I’ll give you what you want in due time. You have to tell me what you want though.”

“Fuck me, please. Make me cum on your cock.” Embarrassment has long left you, mind too dazed from the lust and want for him to have his cock inside of you. It’s more than a want, it’s a need. “For you, anything.” He prods your entrance with his tip then finally slides his head in. Slowly sliding himself inside your pussy, you flinch a bit by his massive girth. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid and your previous boyfriends never had a size like The Duke’s.

Once you’ve relaxed and gotten used to his size, he slides his cock out to the tip and thrusts back into you. He continues this, turning into a steady pace. The view of his cock disappearing inside of you and the sight of your ass bouncing against his pelvis causes his control to falter. Sounds of your moans, the pap pap sound of your ass hitting his pelvis, his grunts, it’s becoming too much for you. His hand wanders over the expanse of your back, slightly pushing down on it, signaling you to arch your back so his cock can reach deeper into you. He’s hitting your soft spot, the shocks of pleasure shooting up your body, making your arms jelly and causing you to fall face-first into the pillow. Your moans are muffled into the pillow when he quickens his pace. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your upper body up against his chest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear the sounds you make when you finally cum on my cock.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down your stomach to your clit, rubbing it while thrusting into you. His head moves down to your neck, sucking and licking another hickey onto your skin.

One of your hands holds onto the arm that’s stimulating your clit while the other goes to his head, fingers interlocking with his hair, pushing his head into your neck. Your nails dig into his arm, but he doesn’t care. It excites him. His free hand grips your jaw, turning your head to face his own, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. The softness of his kiss compared to his hard, deep thrusts makes your head dizzy and pussy tighten around him. You break the kiss, crying out as you cum on his cock, juices leaking down your thighs. Your legs shake from the exhaustion of being on your knees so much. He’s unrelenting. The pace of his actions does not falter one bit. You already want to cum again, and you don’t mind. You don’t want him to stop, lust taking over your mind, making it hard to think straight.

He’s getting close as well. The tightening of your pussy around his cock with the melody of your moans filling his ears edge him closer and closer. Until he suddenly pulls out. You’re confused and disappointed as you’re denied your next orgasm. You turn your head to look back at him, whining for more. You’re about to ask him why he stopped, but the question is unable to leave your mouth as his hands grab you, flipping you over on your back. He crawls over you, pressing his chest into yours as his weight pushes you into the bed, making you unable to escape his intense gaze. Hands grab your wrists, pinning them to the bed on each side of your head. Sliding himself into you, he doesn’t hesitate and continues his quick pace. He looks into your eyes, intent on watching your facial expressions as you fall over the edge once again. “I want to see your expression when I fill you up.” He whispers against your lips before connecting his own with yours. Your moans are muffled in a passionate kiss as his thrusts get deeper and slower. Every time he thrusts in and out of you, his groin rubs against your clit, adding to the pleasure. He breaks the kiss, giving you the ability to speak. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum again. Don’t stop. Please.” He smirks as he pushes his hips down against yours, moving his hips in a circular motion, sending more pleasure to your soft spots.

You cry out as you release your nectar on his pelvis and cock. You twitch and shake under him as he continues his thrusting, whining from the overstimulation. You feel him twitch inside you the closer he gets to his orgasm. Wrapping your legs around him, you urge him to cum. He loses his self-control and grabs your thighs, pushing them to your chest, and pumps into you quickly. Tears fill your eyes from the sensitivity, conflicted about whether to tell him to slow down or speed up more. He grunts and moans above you. His beautiful, addicting moans. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles. When you once again cum on his cock for the nth time, that finally sends him over.

He quickly pulls his cock out of you and moves to hover himself over your belly, straddling you as he vigorously pumps his cock. His head falls back, sensual moans fill the room as his seed spills over your breasts, covering them in his sticky, warm liquid. Once he finishes emptying himself on you, he topples over on the bed, lying next to you as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I thought you were going to cum inside.” You sheepishly say, trying to hide your disappointment. He turns his head to look at you and he notices the slight disappointment on your face, making him chuckle. “I don’t do that on the first meet. But if you really want me to, go on a date with me.” He turns onto his side and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You gonna pay for me this time?” You tease, smirking. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a pretty lady like you pay.” You chuckle in reply, but a thought nags you in the back of your mind. “Do you say this to all of your clients?”

“Nope. I usually don’t sleep with clients. It’s a rule in my business contract.”

“Oh no, are you going to get in trouble then?” You ask, slight worry in your voice. He only chuckles, leaving you confused. Cupping your cheek, he kisses your lips. The kiss only lasts a few seconds but it portrays his feelings. “I don’t mind breaking the rules if it’s for you. There’s something about you that makes me addicted to you. Plus, the sex was mind-blowing, don’t you think?” You gently slap his chest. “Such a sweet talker.” Drowsiness and exhaustion start to consume you, making your eyes heavy and yawn. He tightens his hold on you, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Once settling down, he notices his own exhaustion due to a very busy night. Both of you soon fall asleep, satisfied.

~

Sun rays peak through the crack in the curtains, shining on your face, causing you to stir and slowly open your eyes. Groaning, you rub your eyes to ease the sting of the sudden blinding sunlight. You move to turn away from the sunlight, but you notice that something is blocking you from doing so. You feel a solid build against your back and a strong, heavy arm wrapped around your hip. It takes you a second to gather your surroundings, the memories of last night a slight blur. You remember some moments from the bachelorette party. Playing games, opening gifts, serving drinks, then the entertainment part of the party. You slowly begin to remember what happened after the party ended. Accepting the invitation from The Duke and meeting him in the guest bedroom, then having your face shoved in the covers as he pounds into you from behind. You blush once you finally remember everything.

You slowly turn your head to look behind you and your questions are answered when you see The Duke is the one lying behind you. You carefully try to remove yourself from under his arm, trying to avoid waking him up. Suddenly, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, hold tightening as he pulls you close to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispers in his deep morning voice, nuzzling into your neck. “Um-m I need to get ready for my friend’s wedding.”

“There’s no rush. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit more rest. Or we could get a little session in before you have to leave.” Littering kisses down your neck, his hand gropes your body, making you excited. “As tempting as that sounds, don’t forget, I’m the maid of honor so I have a lot to do on the day of the wedding.” You move to sit up in the bed, pulling away from him to stop yourself from falling into the trap of being ravaged by the handsome man again.

He grabs your wrist when you try to get up, moving your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on it. “When can I see you again?”

“Well, since you do owe me a date, how about you come to the wedding with me as my date?”

“How could I deny a request from a beautiful lady.” He teases, inching his face close to yours. When he goes to kiss you, you stop him by putting a finger over his lips. “Best we get ready then.”

“Not even a small kiss, especially after how close we are already.” Smiling, you move your face close to his, lips slightly grazing each other. Just as he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you pull back. “Later. After you get ready.” Disappointment is shown on his face this time, making you giggle. Getting up, you start heading towards the guest bedroom bathroom. You turn back to look at him. “Come on, let’s shower.” He throws the blanket off of his bare body, getting up to follow you. You can already see his cock is hard again, causing heat to shoot down to your core. While lost in your thoughts, he picks you up, getting you out of your daze. “Come on. Didn’t you say you have a wedding to get ready for, maid of honor? You can admire my cock in the shower while getting ready.” He says, his signature flirty smile graces his face. Geez, he was going to be the death of you.

[leqonsluv3r]

hi! i love your writing sm so i wanted to ask you if you could do a short fic about leon’s first day at the rpd and reader is a detective or someone who works at the rpd and they become friends or something else <3

just the thought of leon being silly and shy about the little party they made just for him to say “welcome” makes my heart skip a beat……..

anyways have a good day! <33

so high school

—leon joins the police department and you just know that he’s going to be everything to you, a blurb

masterlist taglist

an: i hope this is what you had in mind <33 i left it open ended at the ending for your guys imagination. thank you guys again for 900, i love you all. sorry it’s taking me so long to get out all my requests. they’re open again in my bio. pls reblog, comment and interact to support your writers.

the first thing you thought of when you saw leon was how he was too cute to be a cop. that was your first thought, your second was how is this man single.

you didn’t know he was single at first, but for his entry papers, it didn’t say anything about a spouse or an emergency contact girlfriend. which made you very, very happy.

he was a sweetheart, he left a lasting impression on you and you didn’t know how to handle it. helping you carry files to the file room and taking desk duty in stride.

he was humble, sweet and outgoing.

you didn’t really see any faults in him, not at all. most guys you did date in the past, you could see the red flags from a mile away. like a big ugly tattoo on their forehead that just said: STAY AWAY! IM TERRIBLE!

but with leon, it wasn’t like that.

he didn’t ever say anything negative about anyone, he didn’t mention hating being on desk duty. he just simply lived and did his job, same as you. it made you feel lighter being around him. especially getting to know him, getting an idea of him.

you liked him a lot.

you realized that when you agreed to host his welcome party two weeks after he had been hired, most entry coordinators didn’t want too. but you practically jumped at the opportunity to give him his dream welcome party into the unit.

you planned it all out, you went a little overboard. which wasn’t always a bad thing but in this case…it was extreme.

you never did this for any of the other rookies welcome parties you helped organized, you never went this far. blue and yellow balloons, a large chocolate cake, a big banner that you custom designed. all made for leon and based on his tastes over the last two weeks you’d known him.

but when he arrives, a surprise, he sees all the effort. he sees all the decorations and he sees you. he never had felt so welcome in his entire life.

his mom never even put this much effort into his birthday party’s when he was a kid. so his surprise wasn’t fake, it was real and it was written all over his face as he scanned his room of coworkers leading all the way to you.

you, you were so welcoming. so goddamn magnificent that it made his head spin, you got him everything he wanted right down to a T. all the decorations, the cake…the banner.

it was everything.

you were everything, he’d had a crush on you the first day he started. the first day he saw you and you swiped him up into your world. he felt like he was on a different planet half the time when he was with you.

he had to tell you, he owed it to you.

after all, you did throw him an amazing welcome party.

he made his way to you half-way through the party. you were just so gorgeous and he liked you so much, god. you were so…he couldn’t even put words to it.

if he had to pick a dream girl, it would be you.

and he didn’t even realize he had those standards until you came into his life, making it turn from a dull throbbing gray to a beautiful multicolored world. one that used to be so drab for him but now…

now it gave him purpose.

and if you rejected him, at least he got to say he tried. got to say that he attempted to reach your heart, your mind…just you.

he might look like an idiot if you said no, but at least he was attempting. he was trying to make that attempt to confess and not be a coward in front of people like he usually was.

“you did this all for me? i knew you were up to something.” he says with a small smirk on his face when he approaches you. his blue eyes scanning you with nothing but appreciation. something that made butterflies flutter in your belly.

you shrugged innocently, your face heating up into flames. “i just wanted to give you a good welcome. you deserved it, especially when you got saddled with desk duty.” you crack a smile up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“i don’t mind desk duty. my view is pretty great.” he says with a subtle teasing smirk as he looks down at you, you knew that his desk was a few over from his and he could look directly at you. you bite on your bottom lip and your cheeks flush a deeper scarlet.

you look up at him, “i’m glad you like it,” you gesture to the party around you. all your coworkers talking and the decorations. “i worked hard…i just wanted you to feel welcome.”

he smiles widely, dimples and all. “it worked, i feel welcome. you’ve made me feel welcome.” he feels himself admitting as his blue sparkling eyes rove over you.

you feel your body become hot beneath your pencil skirt and blouse, “uhm, i-i yeah, well…” you try to say but fail miserably, gnawing on your bottom lip.

“anyways,” he saved you with a small smile, tilting his head down to look into your eyes. “i was thinking that maybe we could…uhm, go out sometime?” he managed to get out. he felt like it was hot in here, like his uniform was strangling him.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you blinked up at him. you almost felt like you could pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real. he couldn’t be asking her out, he couldn’t like you like you liked him.

“uhm, me…me? you mean me right?” you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry despite the punch you were holding in your hand. he smiles beautifully at you, showcasing his cute cheeks and his straight teeth, “yeah, i was talking to you. unless you see any other beautiful office managers around here?” he says with a small scan of his blue eyes over your frame.

you felt like you were about to melt into a puddle on the floor. his words and his eyes, dear god.

you straighten your spine, “i’d…i’d love too.” you manage to get out with a small gnaw on her bottom lip to hold back the smile threatening to beam on her face.

he feels relief flood over him, the amount of it was overwhelming. you had no idea how much he needed to hear those words from your lips. to hear you say that you wanted to go out with him.

“that’s-thats cool, yeah. i’m…i’ve been wanting to ask you that for a while.” he admits with a small quirk of his lips, feeling the nerves frazzle out of his body and short circuit his brain.

you can’t help the smile and blush that coats your cheeks, to feel the liking that was reciprocated by him. even after throwing him this party, it was still nice to know where you stood with him.

but you knew now.

“me too.” you blush as you keep your eyes on him, the party continued around them but they stayed deep in their conversation. like it would pain either of them to tear the attention away from each-other for five seconds.

“i’ve wanted…to ask you out, but ive been too nervous. i didn’t know how you would react.” you say softly as you sip on your drink, trying to find something else to focus on besides the red on your cheeks and the thrumming of your heart.

he smiles gently, “your too pretty to be nervous. but i would’ve said yes.” he says with a small wink in her direction, he had no idea where this confidence was coming from but he was glad he found it in this moment.

you look down at your punch in your hands, trying to will your heart to relax for five seconds. you were going to go out on a date with him. you were talking to him. he liked his welcome party…he was flirting with you.

it was safe to say you had him.

and he had you.

“i can’t wait for our date.” you say softly, looking up in his direction. your eyes gleaming a little as you stared at him, with something bordering on fascination and excitement.

he grins sheepishly and looks down at you, taking a small step closer. “me either. your gonna look so beautiful. your always beautiful but…i bet you look even better out of work clothes.” he says with a small gesture of his blue eyes up and down your frame.

you tuck some of your hair behind your ear, “thank you.” you breathe out some air, trying to calm the nerves and the erratic beating out of your chest at his compliment, his eyes. just everything about him.

it made you feel like you were a giddy high schooler with a crush. like you were back in school and you were talking to a guy you were so enamored with, it just made sense with leon. you were so comfortable around him but your feelings made you feel like a frazzled teenager.

like you were back where you once were, it was exciting.

you knew he was the one, even if you hadn’t had the first date yet. you just had a gut feeling.

and your gut was always right.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @cherubify @porcelainseashore @squazmine (if you wanna be added interact with the link at the beginning <33)

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

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

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

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

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

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gavi!"

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

Why was Gavi on the floor?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

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

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

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

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

"Good. What is your name?"

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

"Good. And who am I?"

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

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

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

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

You had nothing left to lose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

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

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

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

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pablo."

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Doctora."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

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

~

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

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

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

"Mine."

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

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

"Pedri?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come back to Barca."

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

"You're talking about Pablo."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

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

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you afraid of flying?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why the new contract now then?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Name your demand."

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

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

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

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The spiky hair? Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

"No, not tonight."

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

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

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

~~~~~~~

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

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

*~*Taglist*~*

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

[kinopioa]

I dont think we need to take Ken penders words for anything, the man is hated for reasons beyond his bad writing. He threw ofher writers he worked with under the buss all the time. Back in the early 2000s he would get anoyyed if someone complimented another writer besides him. He once said, he did his own thing because 'Sega didn't give him much to work with" and would imply his writing made the Sonic characters deeper then in the games. Jon Gray even stated, fhe entire reason why Ken left because he couldn't do what he wanted since his unused plans would break several rules with Sonic's character, especially regarding Shadow. He's now pretending to still care about Sonic's brand because Sonic fans are the only one giving him any attention nowadays.

He is 100% a grifter, idiot, glory hog, has daddy issues, probably misses the 90s when regulation was lax as fuck

But he is unironically right regarding Flynn's parasocial involvement with the fandom. That's the only thing I care about. Given my own research on Ian, Pender's 100% right. Ian already was doing interviews 4 years before he got on Archie, and then generated more interest with the bumbleking forums, and later paid questionaire podcasts. No other writer is this directly in view of fandom opinions, and as seen in his writing, appeals directly to fan bias pretty often

The entire reason he killed Tommy, treated Cream like shit, and fucked with a stupid 5 year "There's a traitor!" with Silver is directly cuz he was mirrored fandom ire. They hated Tommy being dead weight, they hated Cream for "kiddifying the franchise", they hated Silver for being a naive guy from a bad game

I've also noticed Flynn indirectly thrived on surrounding drama of the greater fandom. 06's reception + Archie writers dropping is the only reason he got hired. Yardley's less shit art is why writing got leeway. The 2013 lawsuit causing the reboot gave him a by for "not using expanded chars" along with getting Archie noticed by the games fandom, and Lost World/Forces failing for reception led to people to look more into spinoffs

I see people randomly gas up Archie Sonic as a powerhouse or peak entirely cuz they see this scene out of context

Even though this literally happens right after. He doesn't even beat him legitimately later, he was beaten cuz suddenly his mech is ineffective to most of the FF and Ray. Fucking Ray

People further cementing "skip to issue 160" and accrediting all good writing to Ian is also grounds for creating another Penders. Sadly I think it worked

So I don't give a shit about Pender's ramblings of his "great writing" given how miniscule his impact is nowadays. The only thing of impact to the games he did was bury the idea of a Chronicles sequel, an already noncanon game. I DO care if someone effectively hired by nepotism still shows his bias and misconception for this franchise. This stance in 2008 I don't think changed given how he's been trying to sneak in Archie refs still

If not Ian, it'd be another "fan" on Twitter doing similar disregard of the games

The term "a broken clock right twice a day" is what I'd say applies to Penders for his notes on Ian. Otherwise, outside Spiderman 4 dev, he is to be ignored mostly

Well that and him dunking Krash, that was just...wow. Rare W

[blackberrywars]

🔀 Aiden/Lambert :)

Well. This song is basically begging for a blue-collar deep dive into Lambert's generational struggle with alcohol, as well as a sillier nod to the long-and-lean Aiden headcanon. She's a tall boy indeed. I'm also making it 70s americana because I personally deserve to imagine butch4butch laiden where Lambert wears nothing but a dirty boiler suit over a gray wifebeater and no bra, and Aiden is head to toe in disco menswear —burgundy flare pants and vest, with an outlandishly patterned green silk shirt unbuttoned to the navel.

Lambert is a mechanic, and has been since before she dropped out of high school, to the dismay of her chemistry teacher. She'd skipped town at 16 without a word to her or anyone else, taking nothing but her tools and her father's last 12-pack for the road —it was the only thing she couldn't leave behind. Everything and everyone else is gone, along with the hair clippings and bloodstains on the bathroom floor. She spends a few days sleeping in her shitbox rust bucket, making loops around the city before she moves on to the next. And the next. It's a good thing every gas station has a beer cooler, the way she drinks and drives her way to the east coast.

She makes it, though, and by the time some old bastard named Vesemir finally hires her after three shops turn her tits down, it's a habit. Ordering an irish coffee at 9am doesn't make the barista bat an eyelid in her neighborhood, and it tides her over until her break. A can there sits just right beside her coworkers', and really, they drink more than she does. No matter Vesemir's tuts, he never stops them, just scolds them for leaving the pop tabs everywhere. She's collected enough to make a curtain with them, hanging instead of her bedroom door.

It's a few years of this and Lambert is...... content. She's good at her job, and the only bruise on her body is from where she dropped a gasket scraper on her foot. If she drinks too much, then at least she has no one to take it out on, and really, she's just fine, really. Beer mellows her out, stops the lava under her skin, and the only drunken fights she's gotten in were well-deserved, in her opinion. She goes to sailor's bars with Eskel and Geralt, and goes to the dyke ones when she's not with them, but she never plays for keeps.

It's this Lambert that Aiden meets when her adorable yellow vespa calls it quits. Garage Morhen has a good word-of-mouth reputation with queers for never turning down a customer for the amount of glitter they put on their bodies. Rumor has it that the owner still vists the leather daddy clubs every now and again. Some other whispers say his second son's wife and boyfriend get along spectacularly. Even more say that the third son is the meanest dyke around.

So Aiden goes in all her glory, pushing her scooter in her five-inch boots, brown leather stained with grime. Looks up after five minutes to find Lambert leaned against her station, tall boy in hand and a scowl on her face. Her hands are dyed black up to the elbow, showing off her thick forearms, and her nipples poke through her wifebeater. Her eyes are a little yellow as they look up up up at Aiden, telling her it won't be a cheap or quick fix. And Aiden just smiles, because she's sure as hell not opposed to hanging around for a while.

EDIT: For anyone not aquainted with them, @whyzowl and @yolki-palki have drawn some GORGEOUS fem!laiden art, and the outfits described above are basically me using their designs like paper dolls. Art linked here, here, here, and here with my screeching commentary.

[charrfie]

Soooo this has been in the works for a while. Some fun and self indulgent and silly au that I actually got way too attached to!!! To the point I've actually got a whole outline of a story for it! Going to put it in under the cut :^]

-

For context: I haven't really decided if this is a completely parallel universe where kris and susie and everyone else has any input on the world. Or if its simply just a year or two early to main storyline stuff. Idk, still thinking, I'll figure it out eventually.

Story time now though! Just as they are in their actual canon story, arrfs is from space! An alien trying to integrate into the Lightner world. Despite pups best efforts over the years, she still manages to wind up without a friend. I'm still heavily workingshopping what exactly their Lightner life was like or how exactly they stumbled into the dark world, all I know is pup gets there somehow!

Once arrfs DOES reach the dark world, pup is absolute terrified. Not only is there no one to tell them what's going on or where they are, but there's also no one to face the unknown with her. Unsure what to make of the change of clothes and new surroundings, pup treks on until- just as she does in the actual deltarune canon- queen pops up out of nowhere to capture her!!! Arrfs instinctually turns into a little tiny worm as a way to hide and defend pupself and queen just accepts it, going "Oh shit lol they disappeared woah. Okay bye."

Skipping ahead a bit bc otherwise we'll be here all day (and also bc I mainly have the meat of this story planned out rather than anything prior)! Arrfs stumbles around cyber city lost and confused after a close run-in with some ambyu-lances. That is, until they find themself in an alleyway. And who else do they find there other than spamton g. spamton himself!!! Instantly picking up on the fact that pup is a Lightner, spamton attempts to lure her into buying one of his wares so that pup may learn to trust him. Which quickly goes south when he realizes that arrfs doesn't have a single cent to their name. He frowns, instead offering her a place to relax. A place to stop running from every Darkner that attempts to approach them. This lands arrfs in spamtons shop, of course! While it seems like a friendly offer, in reality it's mainly offered so that spam has more time to think up a deal. One that would really hook arrfs and ultimately benefit spamton himself.

But then it hits him. This Lighter is lost and confused with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. If he were to hire them with promise of a roof over their head and a place to stay (however low quality and surrounded by garbage it may be), they would not only be a much friendlier face to lure his customers in, but would also come to trust him. THAT'S how you hook a customer and make them into a returning one. That's his ticket into getting into the basement. And to his surprise... arrfs jumps on the idea! Pup's very desperate to get a controlled grip on this world, and most of all, really just to find a friend after all these years. Blissfully unaware of the real nature behind the deal, she seals it.

I'm still working on the exact details of how the rest of it plays out, all I know is that the two actually do wind up becoming genuine friends! Spamton initially was in it for himself, sure, but instead he finds himself so comfortable with the first genuine friendship he's had in years. He fufills his goal of enabling arrfs to be completely trusting of him, but he never figured he would be so trusting of them as well. Not to mention that with all of arrfs help, they've pulled together a bit more of a stable income. She's even encouraged him to create his own art that sells for a much higher price than his normal wares. He almost wants to delay getting his hands on want he wants down in the basement out of fear he may lose all the good he's found. Almost.

And that's what I've got so far! I think it's fun!

-

Extra design notes!!!

I know I stylized black and gray as blue on spamton btw but that was just the fit the blue theme on the rest of this. Arrfs' cloak is actually just that color blue!

Arrfs is surrounded by butterfly themes in the dark world! I figured that since their themes are mainly focused on grubs and caterpillars outside of the au just as a normal sona, butterflies would be a cool approach to show some kind of change! That's also the shape of their cloak- butterfly wings!

[roseworth]

hi tumblr user roseworth im desperately trying to figure out how old rose and eddie were by the end of their tenures in tt03 / how long they knew each other and it is... difficult especially because sooo much happened dc-event-wise during tt03. do you have any canon sources or noncanon thoughts on their ages beyond eddie being 17 in part of tt03 and rose being 14(?) when lilli dies ^_^

hiiiiii <3 unfortunately i dont have a great answer for this bc. comic timelines. but ill do my very best

so for rose the only time we get anything about her age in tt03 is in issue #0.5 (when she gets taken by slade) when it says that lili and slade met 18 years ago

so i assume that makes rose ~17 when she join slade (since lili would've been pregnant for 9 months after this)

we also get this panel saying that lili died 18 months before rose joins slade, putting her at around 15 or 16 when lili dies. iirc she was 14 when wintergreen sees her for the first time, so we can assume a year went by between wintergreen meeting lili and lili's death (if tt03 is to be believed! but deathstroke 1991 (annual #4) mentions that shes 14 when her mom dies)

anyways this also means that roy hired her as a live-in nanny when she was 16 years old which is really funny to me. but none of that matters; point is she was 17ish at the start of tt03

this is just my personal headcanon but i assume that the time between titans/yj graduation day -> infinite crisis is around a year, and if rose joins up with slade a little after graduation day then shes with him for just under a year

HOWEVER if we go by what slade says in nightwing #112, rose has only been with him for a few months

so based on that, rose is 17 (probably closer to 18) when she leaves slade

then infinite crisis happens and we skip to a year later! so shes 18/19 now. we dont get any specifics on her age but just for funsies we can assume that shes at least 18 since shes smoking and cyborg doesnt have a problem with it (he confiscates her alcohol but not her cigarettes), and the tobacco age in california in 2006 was 18

THEN it gets complicated. i dont have a source for this but i think theres supposed to be a year between oyl -> final crisis, making rose 19/20 by fresh hell (the secret reason she got kicked off the teen titans was because she wasnt a teen #adulthood)

also in fresh hell, she orders alcohol at a bar in canada (in the northwest territories where the drinking age is 19) so theoretically that makes her at least 19. though she never actually gets the drinks because she gets in a fight 2 seconds after this so she doesnt get carded so who knows!

from there. i dont have much. i assume that a full year doesnt go by from fresh hell to the end of the universe (if anyone knows how long bart & kon were dead for that might change things, but i assume we're not given any exact info on how long it was), so i would put rose at ~20 right before the new 52 happens!!

as for eddie, ill use the same tt03 timeline that i used for rose

like you mentioned, hes 17 in tt03 #42 (for reference rose is 18/19 at this time)

he didnt join the teen titans that long before this, we see him asking to join in 52 #51, which is like a week or two before tt03 #34 (the first tt issue after oyl) so its safe to assume that eddie is 17 when he joins the team

anyways after #42, i dont think we get any mention of his age? which is honestly kinda weird since his age is Very Important given that hes selling his soul to neron at 20. we should have an eddie's age tracker at all times

if we assume that hes 17 when he joins the teen titans and oyl -> final crisis is 1 year, then hes right around 18 or 19 when he dies

when he loses his powers then tries to make another contract to get them back in tt03 #68, kid eternity mentions that he'd have "a few years of superheroing," so him being 18 around this time makes sense

then he dies in #74 </3 no mention of his age anywhere but id say hes right around 18 when he dies

take all of this with a grain of salt bc a lot of this is just me making up timelines. but i personally think rose is 15 when her mom dies, 17 when slade takes her, 18 when she leaves slade, and 19 as of tt03 #34 (oyl). and eddie is 17 when he joins the team and 18 when he dies!

[teecupangel]

What if Desmond was one of the shadow soldiers in CoD? Like, he's really good at what he does, so becomes like the right hand man, but when 141 is betrayed, turns on the Americans because 'fuck this shit, this aint what I signed up for'

Shadow Company, in general, has always been more on the side of morally ambiguous since the only time we see them is when they’re working for Shepherd (in both OG and Reboot games) and he’s more on the morally gray area than a full-on villain so, yeah, Desmond could totally be part of Shadow Company.

Hell, instead of being a bartender, he could have found his way into becoming one of the Shadow Company’s recruits in the first place and it would have worked.

They’re mercs for hires but there seemed to be some kind of camaraderie going on among them, most notably seen when Graves said “These guys on the ground... Mexican Special Forces, 141, they are your brothers now. You treat 'em like your own and let's get this done, yeah?” in the mission Close Air and he does have the habit of calling others “brother” which would resonate with Desmond’s desire for a place to belong (especially 16 years old Desmond).

Also, their equivalent to “Roger” is “Yup-yup” and that will never stop sounding both funny and adorable to me.

In a scenario where Desmond becomes a member of Shadow Company, a setup we can use is him quickly rising the ranks and getting the attention of Graves, building some form of bond between them that is both friendship-forged-in-fire and bash-brothers that soon turns him into Graves’ (and Shadow Company’s) unofficial second-in-command.

You can even ‘transplant’ Desmond into Shadow Company as Velikan since Velikan never showed his face and there’s no real information about him. (Velikan is from the multiplayer section of Modern Warfare 2019)

Desmond wouldn’t balk at any questionable methods Shadow Company even does, especially if he joined the PMC at sixteen.

So Desmond turning on Shadow Company during the end of Dark Waters/start of Alone?

It could work if Desmond built a stronger bond with 141 and that is more possible if Desmond joined Shadow Company later (like, say, after the whole Grand Temple deal.) This is the idea that "fuck this shit, this ain't what I signed up for" can definitely be included.

Otherwise, Desmond would only see it as another mission and the only reason why he would take a stand would be if he believes that Graves and the others are getting out of hand (like, for example, them shooting on Soap and Ghost when they were only ordered to shoo them away or detain them if they do not comply).

So yeah, Desmond would betray Shadow Company if he believes they’re in the wrong or if he develops a more close relationship with 141 but his thoughts on what the wrong side is isn’t as clear cut as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ due to his Assassin background.

And if we were to set this up with Desmond joining Shadow Company as a sixteen years old, betraying Shadow Company would be a hardsell at that point as they would have become something akin to a family to him.

And, if he does betray them, he would definitely get some to his side, creating some kind of civil war between two factions in Shadow Company in the middle of Las Almas.

This is also the idea where Desmond would be more "don't make me do this, Graves..." and it would definitely have more angst.

.

.

.

I’d also just like to note something…

And this part would also be counted as a bit of a spoiler for The Shadow’s Endgame so skip this one if you don’t want to be spoiled:

Shadow Company’s brutality during Las Almas? They only specifically target corrupted officials and police officers, those in the pockets of the cartels.

Yes, they’re definitely war crimes and they do terrorize the citizens (especially the family of their targets) but, at the same time…

It’s not exactly that different from how the Brotherhood operates. They’re not stealthy about it and that was by choice as we have to assume a PMC like them should have the capabilities to be stealthy if they wanted to be, they simply chose not to.

Perhaps they wanted to make an example of Las Almas.

Perhaps they wanted to show the cartels their work.

They attacked a hostile territory and took down the corrupted high-ranking officials…

Kinda like how Assassins used to operate before the modern era.

You might even say…

Shadow Company is what the Brotherhood could have been had they continued to uphold a more militaristic approach and idolized Ezio Auditore’s liberation of Rome.

[possibly-god]

TF2K Timeline

1945

December – Medic emigrates to America.

1946

March – Medic marries Ursula Osterberg.

June – Engineer and Darleane Mayer graduate their theoretical physics Ph.D course.

1947

March – Hedy Mayer is born.

1948

May – The Skeleton Incident; Medic flees town, Ursula remains.

November – Scout is born.

1949

January – Christoph Osterberg is born.

1956

February – Heavy emigrates to America and meets Mary O’Bannon.

June – Ursula remarries to Carl Bauer.

October – Heavy finds steady work out west.

1958

June – Patrick O’Bannon is born.

1960

April – Christoph’s interest in medicine is piqued.

1965

February – Linda Phillips-Green discovers her husband’s infidelity and meets Demoman; Christoph begins forging his medical records.

June – Hedy graduates high school and begins interning with Black Mesa.

November – Kelly Phillips is born.

1966

August – Linda Phillips’ divorce is finalized, she attempts to contact Demoman but is intercepted by Tilly DeGroot.

October – Mary O’Bannon is killed in an accident, Patrick enters the foster system.

1967

May – Sniper and Diana Guzman meet on the road.

August – The mercs are hired by Mann Co., the events of TF2 begin.

September – Hedy starts at ZMU.

1968

February – Rosa Guzman is born.

September – Christoph starts at ZMU, cutting contact with the Bauers.

1971

July – Kelly discovers the cartoons of Rube Goldberg, begins constructing her own inventions.

November – Expiration Date

1972

June – Christoph receives his Bachelor’s degree and enrolls in medical school, celebrating by performing his own top surgery.

August – Mann vs. Machine.

1973

April – Linda signs Kelly up for the Girl Scouts.

June – Gray Mann and Olivia take over Mann Co., start of Ring of Fired’s 6 month time skip.

August – Scout and Barbie Nakamura meet.

October – Hedy and Christoph get married.

December – End of Ring of Fired time skip.

1974

April – The twins are born.

May – Barbie skips town, the Nakamuras attempt unsuccessfully to track down the twins’ father.

August – The Naked and the Dead, Dennis is born and adopted by Mags; Helen opts to use her last few months to try and find a more elegant solution to her problem; Mann Co. and RED are retaken and reestablished.

October – Hedy and Christoph belatedly celebrate their wedding anniversary, Christoph bets Hedy she can’t acquire any meaningful quantity of Australium.

November – Soldier and Zhanna get married and discover their pregnancy.

December – Hedy completes the polycyclotron and successfully synthesizes Australium.

1975

January - March – The kidnappings, RED’s rescue, OHM, etc.

March – Saxton Hale appoints Helen his successor at Mann Co., resigns, and proposes to Mags.

June – Jane Doe Jr. is born; Hedy receives her fifth Ph.D., nuclear physics, and leaves ZMU to work at Aperture Science.

August – Saxton and Mags get married, Dennis is their ringbearer.

September – Helen rehires Saxton as the Team Fortress Administrator.

December – Hedy receives the Nobel Prize in Physics for her work with the polycyclotron and acerized elements.

1976

June – Christoph graduates medical school.

July – The ’76 Conagher Family Reunion.

1977

May – JJ first uses magic.

1978

January – Mason Hale is born.

1980

January – Patrick joins the fire department.

October – Kelly joins her high school’s theater department.

1981

May – Christoph completes his residency and receives his medical license.

1984

September – Kelly starts film school.

1986

September – Rosa studies journalism in college.

March – Kelly drops out of film school.

1987

February – Kelly books her first film job, Flight of the Fifty Foot Fantom.

December – Scout has a near-fatal heart attack.

1990

July – Rosa begins working as a photojournalist and making poachers’ lives a living hell.

1994

June – The twins graduate high school, Lance disappears.

1996

August – Lance returns from Japan.

2000

January – Team Fortress International forms.

(Please alert me if anything is unclear - I am bad at math, particularly where dates are involved, and I am not sure what qualifies as a significant event that should be represented on this timeline.)

Next up - So how does Australium work?

TF2K Master Post

[richincolor]

Title: My Flawless Life Author: Yvonne Woon Genres: Contemporary, Mystery, Thriller Pages: 352 Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books Review Copy: Received final copy from author Availability: Available now Summary: At the most elite private school in Washington, DC., whenever anyone has a problem that they need to go away, they hire Hana Yang Lerner.

Hana is a fixer. She knows who to call, what to say, and how to make sure secrets stay where they belong—buried. She can fix anything. Except her own life, which was destroyed when her father, senator Skip Lerner, was arrested for an accident that left one woman nearly dead.

Now Hana’s reputation is ruined and her friends are gone. So when she gets a job from an anonymous client called “Three” to follow her former best friend, Luce Herrera, Hana realizes this might be her way of getting back her old life.

But the dangerous thing about digging is that you never know what you’ll unearth. As Hana uncovers a dark truth about her supposedly flawless classmates, she’s forced to face a secret of her own.

Review: [One of the major subplots in MY FLAWLESS LIFE is a hit-and-run car accident that left a pedestrian severely injured. Other subplots include underage and illegal drug use, blackmail, and fears about being outed/homophobia.]

MY FLAWLESS LIFE is a tightly plotted and highly entertaining contemporary mystery/thriller, and I tore through it eagerly. It’s also going to be a difficult book to review given a late revelation that recharacterizes basically the entire book up until that point. That said, I’ll talk about what I can.

Sometimes mysteries and thrillers skimp on the characterization in favor of focusing on the intricacies of the plot, and while the cast of MY FLAWLESS LIFE is fairly small, author Yvonne Woon was excellent at deepening the reader’s understanding of Hana’s character even as Hana’s work for “Three” got more and more complicated. I especially enjoyed how James functioned has a foil for Hana, and how they had both caught wind of the same mystery but came at it from different (moral) angles and had different strategies. The slow rebuilding of their relationship was a treat to watch unfold, and I enjoyed their scenes together a lot.

I can’t really discuss Hana’s secret referenced in the summary, but what I can say is that the author did a good job of slowly revealing Hana’s past. Hana’s father’s accident was a clear dividing line for Hana, and I appreciated the insight into how virtually all of her and her family’s relationships were changed because of it.

“Three’s” mysteries—the job they send Hana on, their identity—are twisty and intriguing in their own right, and trying to fit the pieces together before Hana could was fun. It took a bit longer than I expected for Hana and James to get their feet under them regarding what was going on re: Luce Herrera, but once they figured out what path they were on, the investigation was tightly focused and gripping. I also enjoyed the smaller mysteries of Hana figuring out what various characters needed/wanted in order to deliver on her fixer jobs along the way.

Recommendation: Get it soon, especially if contemporary mysteries/thrillers are your thing. Yvonne Woon has given us a great morally gray narrator trying to uncover someone else’s secret while trying to ignore her own. MY FLAWLESS LIFE would be a solid addition to your TBR list.

[lloydfrontera]

I thought he met with clients when he said he likes the Alicia types who are very specific in what they want when the garden was made, as opposed to the client he had that was nice but kept changing what he wanted because they said something like 'I'm fine with anything'

about this

ah! i know what you're talking about!

Just then, Lloyd's mind traveled back to his laborious days in South Korea. One time, he was called in to work on a private residential house. The owner was a hard client to deal with. But it wasn't because he maliciously abused Lloyd or used his money and power as leverage against him and the others. That man was a hesitant, wishy-washy, and indecisive but good-natured man. Lloyd realized for the first time then that the most frustrating and troubling type of client to work with was the good-natured but indecisive ones who didn't know what they wanted. I didn't believe it at first, but it really was the case. The owner was definitely something. At first, he said that anything was fine. As long as it looked good, all was okay. He nicely went along with anything at the initial phase of the renovation. But as the project progressed… He slowly started to change. His demands started increasing. He slowly became more ambitious in his vision. Why? It was because he didn't know what he wanted at the start of the project. And so, the owner only came to figure out his needs midway. "Oops! Now that I see it, I'd like the tiles in the first-floor entrance to be gray, not white." "I'm sorry but can we do this door in another style? Not this one?" "I'm seeing it now, and it looks like we should get rid of the shower booth." Surely, it would have been relatively fine if the project had ended that way. Lloyd and his team did reflect on the changes with a good heart. But the project wasn't finished with such a beautiful ending. "Oh, seeing it now, I think I like the very first one best. Let's go with the first one." Eventually, the house had to be redone all over again. Dammit. Just thinking about it pisses me off. I worked my ass off and gave him what he wanted, and he what?

i see why that could give the impression it was lloyd himself dealing with the client. however. i am gonna be so pedantic here but. he never actually mentions being in charge of the project.

he was "called in to work". not hired to design, not to plan, just to work. he also mentions "others" and "his team", which to me sounds more like a he was part of a construction work squad rather than lloyd being in charge and having people under his charge.

also when you do construction work on a private home you don't hire a civil engineer. you might hire an architect, but if it's a small renovation you might just skip it and go straight to the construction workers and direct them yourself.

civil engineering is about planning, designing, constructing, maintaining, and operating infrastructure for the public, not for particulars. lloyd would have,, no business being hired to plan or design on a private residential house. however, he would have business being hired to work under someone else's direction as a construction worker.

does this make any sense??

[curiouscompanions]

Entry #1 Greetings, Reader. Is it truly necessary to mention my name in these entries? After all, people have bestowed upon me numerous names, but none of them has truly stuck. Alright, to avoid unnecessary editing, I'll provide only one pseudonym — "The Observer." Nothing more. Yes, let it be so. They call me The Observer. And I am one of many Protagonists... if one can express it that way, because my role in the Parable was entirely unimpressive and didn't even merit any significant mention anywhere, except for a couple of lost office papers. My job is interesting. I observe what's happening inside the Office, record data from surveillance cameras, then sort and send them to the Upstairs. Sometimes I have to make additional entries, using the old-fashioned method of pen and paper. There are quite a few of them, my handwriting leaves much to be desired, and so digitizing them will be quite a headache. Shouldn't have skipped penmanship lessons in college. But it's not like I could have known I would need them, right? Where should I begin? Does this experiment even have a beginning? It appeared long before ideas were formed into words, and those, in turn, were transformed into lines of endless code, which then evolved into—... I suppose it's not that hard to guess what happened next. The Stanley Parable happened. Well, I'll start from the very beginning.

Once upon a time, very long ago, a place called the Office was designed and simulated. Essentially, it wasn't even a full-fledged building, just a network of long, chaotically assembled corridors. And this Office was very young, yet it looked surprisingly old and mediocre. Minimal lighting, walls wrapped with some unimpressive poorly done texture in brownish-dirty beige shades, with a dark swampy carpet as the final touch of careless cheap assets downloaded from one of those annoyingly popular videogames. I never understood this strange human attachment to pixels on the screen… but, of course, my opinion was never heard. So, the first test version of the Office appeared, operational and surprisingly stable despite its limited functionality. What happened next? Right. Staff was hired. Only a few hundred employees, most of whom simulated work activity, pretended being all busy if I may add. A gray mass, statistics to fill in mandatory reports. Only five of them received real instructions, eventually survived, and reached an entirely new level of the Game. The test version lasted only a few months. Following it came an update that changed everything; starting from improving those robotically dull Announcer's comments and ending with polishing lamps for the ceiling. They even delivered and placed potted ficuses next to several employee desks, almost like real ones. In general, the experiment was going so successfully that it received additional funding, and our work soared fast ahead, heralding a new era of technological development and ways of interaction among the citizens of our diverse and vast country… I would like to write it that way, but it would be just a vague word play on what actually happened back in 2̴͓̈̎̒̔0̸̢͓̯̐̒͊̂1̸͇̗̳̏̀̅3̸̻́̓̕. The new Office resembled the old one, but only in the chaos of its long corridors and the multitude of doors. It was, after all, entirely different. First and foremost, there was finally an opportunity not only to start over but also to choose a Save Point. Now, how can I even describe everything in simple language without picking excessive officialese and overly comlicated words...? Well, I'll start from the very beginning. The thing is, the Office is located in the so-called intersection of the real and digital worlds. Or in an area with anomalies exceeding the approved norm. You might think, what's so special about a basic high-risk zone? It turns out that it's the perfect place for all sorts of tests and experiments. Somehow, it happened that the death of subjects while being here ceases to be something permanent and becomes a temporary inconvenience lasting from eight to thirty-six seconds. Yes, like in a video game, but with the presence of several side effects like phantom pain and exacerbations of neuroses or psychoses ...or both, it all depends on the condition and luck of the "restarted" person. I don't know all the details, it's the scientists who conducted direct field research. My job is to observe and record. And never interfere. I remember the investors soon came up with the idea of closing the Office and isolating all the staff with subjects inside it… and placing bets on people; who will kill whom first, and who will keep their sanity intact and try to escape. I won't go into unnecessary details, I'll just say that only a few people managed to survive, yes, those very five participants and your humble Observer. End of Entry #1

.... Why are you still reading this? This text file finishes itself with End Of Entry #1. You were supposed to press that cross on the right side of its top. It's an X right next to an [ ], can't you see? You ... don't actually see it, do you? Is it ...not there anymore? It wasn't there from the start, was it? This is not right. Scroll it away and close your browser. This text file is corrupted, it is spreading all over your dashboard and through. This text file is going to infect your computer with a horrible virus if you keep reading it. This text file is going to destroy your hard drive any moment now. ... Okay, fine. I was wrong. This text file is harmless. In fact, the other text files are corrupred instead it. Great. Wonderful. Why can't anything go according to my plans in the perfectly accurate way? Wait, no, I didn't mean to say that! I haven't been plotting anything this time! Even if I were trying to come up with some schemes, they would still not be happening anywhere, except my own mind. I am the Observer, remember? I don't do things, I observe them. Sometimes, especially in my personal case, doing and observing are antonyms, they just never work together.

Are you still reading, aren't you? Why? There's literally nothing else here! It was just the very beginning, my Entry #1. Why didn't you close it and open Entry #2? Oh right, it's one of the corrupted ones… well, why didn't you close it and run your antivirus or whatever tool you got in your possession? There's nothing disturbing in other text files, I promise. Really, they are just my casual observations, just some foggy memories of a simple individual you have never met before but decided to poke this curious nose of yours into his personal business anyway. Good lord, what is it to you? Are you actually still hoping to read more about my unnecessarily detailed backstory? Well, I have already done it, I have digitized my papers, I have typed everything I could decipher into those last three text filed that ended up getting corrupred. Can't you just, you know, uncorrupt them? I suppose not, since you are still here instead of trying that.

...

Alright, I think you have tried to read me for long enough by now, Reader. I... I should just be honest, then.

My memories, they are fading away day by day. Writing them down was a mistake, the more of restarts I faced, the more of my papers became empty, the more I have filled them with the same words again and again and again. So I decided to save a few that remains by making it digital. However, as you have noticed, it's pointless too. Soon I'll become no person but mere pixels on your screen. Just like him, like her, like them. You are the last observation I have made in my entire career, Reader. Now it's over. It's over, right?

Why are you still reading this?

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

PSYCHO (1960)

Marion and Sam have just finished having sex in a hotel.  They apparently love each other and would like to get married, but they are poor.  Marion returns to her office, where a client drops off $40,000 in cash.  Marion’s boss tells her to take the cash to the bank, but Marion steals the money and skips town instead!

She drives from Phoenix up toward Fairvale, California.  She sleeps in the car, and a cop wakes her up.  She acts suspiciously innocent, but he lets her go.  She decides to buy a new car, but the very same cop spots her at the used car lot and watches her!  Marion manages to drive off, and she imagines various conversations among her family and co-workers as her crime is discovered.  As night falls it begins to rain heavily, and she pulls over to the Bates Motel. 

The proprietor is one Norman Bates.  Marion checks into a room, hiding the stolen money in a newspaper, and he offers to bring her some sandwiches, but then Marion hears Norman’s mother berating him from their house behind the motel: “I refuse to think of disgusting things because they disgust me!”  Norman brings the sandwiches anyway, and they eat in the parlor, which is filled with stuffed birds.  The two have a long conversation.  Norman explains that his mother is ill, and maybe a little mad.  Marion suggests that she be put in a home, and he bristles at the suggestion.  At the end of the conversation Marion says that she’s returning to Phoenix because she “stepped into a private trap back there and I’d like to go back and try to pull myself out of it.”  She returns to her room, and Norman removes a painting so he can peep at her through a hole in the wall!  He then returns to the house with a determined look on his face, but he ends up sitting by himself in the kitchen.

In her room, Marion scribbles down some notes on how much of the stolen money she’s spent, and she tears up that paper and flushes it down the toilet.  This is literally the first time in America that anyone saw a flushing toilet in a movie.  Marion then disrobes and walks into the shower, smiling, perhaps at the liberating thought of going home and owning up to her mistake.  However, the door to the bathroom opens and someone walks inside!  A shadowy figure in a woman’s dress, with gray hair, stabs Marion repeatedly!  Marion falls out of the shower and we focus in on her eye as she dies.

Norman runs into the room!  He cleans up the mess, puts Marion’s body into the trunk of her car, and gathers up her belongings, including the newspaper with the money (after an initial fake-out where it looks like maybe he forgot it).  Norman dumps the car into a swampy hole behind the hotel.  So Marion, our protagonist, is dead, not even halfway into the movie.

However, we now jump to Marion’s lover, Sam!  In Fairvale!  (Marion was only about 15 miles from the town.)  Sam is visited by Viv, Marion’s sister, who is looking for her missing sibling.  They are soon joined by Arbogast, who has been hired by dude Marion robbed.  Arbogast naturally suspects that they are hiding Marion.  We follow him as he visits various hotels, motels, boarding houses, and flophouses.  He eventually ends up at the Bates Motel.  Under Arbogast’s precise questioning, Normal quickly admits that Marion was there, but she only stayed a night and left early the next morning.  Norman is acting “suss,” as the kids say, and Arbogast spots the outline of a person up in the house.  Norman says that it's his mother, but he won’t allow Arbogast to talk to her.  He asks Arbogast to leave.

Arbogast finds a phone booth and calls Viv, Marion’s sister.  He no longer suspects her or Sam of being involve with Marion’s disappearance.  He states that he’s going to return to the Bates Motel to try to talk to Norman’s mother.  At the motel, Norman hides before Arbogast can see him.  Arbogast enter the house and begins to climb the stairs, but then a figure dressed as an old woman rushes out and stabs him!  Arbogast very dramatically falls down the stairs, and the figure rushes at him and stabs him!

Sam and Viv have been waiting for Arbogast, who doesn’t show up.  They go the Bates Hotel, but there is no sign of him so they leave.  Meanwhile, Norman is dumping Arbogast’s car into the very same swamp from earlier. 

More stuff happens.  Viv and Sam go the local sheriff’s house.  They explain that Arbogast went to the Bates Motel to talk to Norman’s mother, but the sheriff tells them that Norman’s mother died ten years ago.  At the Bates house, we hear Norman talking to his mother, saying that he has to hide her for a few days.  She protests, but he carries her down to the “fruit cellar.”  Sam and Viv harass the sheriff at his church, and he says that he went to the motel and Norman didn’t offer any new information.  However, Viv and Sam decide to investigate on their own!  They drive to the motel and pretend to be a married couple.  Norman very awkwardly provides a room.

Sam and Viv sneak into the room where Marion was staying and find a piece of paper in the toilet, showing part of Marion’s calculations about the stolen money.  Viv decides to try to talk to Norman’s mother while Sam says he’ll distract Norman.  Viv sneaks into the house.  She finds a big empty bedroom, but there are signs that it’s been used recently.  She wanders into a child’s bedroom and looks at an unlabeled book.  We don’t see what it is, but she makes a weird face.  Meanwhile, Sam and Norman are having an awkward conversation.  Sam not-so-subtly accuses Norman of killing Marion for her money.  Norman realizes that Viv is missing.  He bonks Sam on the head and runs toward the house.

Viv hides from Norman as he enters the house.  She has a chance to escape, but instead she goes down the basement.  She enters the fruit cellar, where a female figure is sitting, facing away from her.  “Mrs. Bates,” Viv says, touching her shoulder, and the figure rotates about in her chair to reveal a corpse!  Norman runs into the room, wearing a wig and a dress.  Sam appears just in time to subdue Norman.

We arrive at the county courthouse.  A psychiatrist has interviewed Norman and explains that Norman possessed both a “Norman” personality and a “Mother” personality, and now the Mother personality has taken over entirely and essentially confessed to the crimes.  (Oh, Norman also killed his mother and her last companion and maybe two other missing girls.)  The Mother personality was jealous of the attention Norman paid to Marion when she was there, and that’s why she was killed.  Sam asks, “Why was he dressed like that?”  Someone says, “He’s a transvestite,” but the psychiatrist disputes this and says that Norman dressed like his mother because “he was simply doing everything possible to keep alive the illusion of his mother being alive.” 

We cut to Norman, sitting in a cell.  His “mother” is speaking, blaming Norman for everything.  He looks crazily at us and she insists that “she wouldn’t even harm a fly.” 

By today’s standards this would probably be considered more of a “thriller” than a “horror” movie.  Books and movies have been written about the shower scene alone.  I’ve seen complaints that it doesn’t quite hold up to today’s standards, but I still think it’s a masterful and stylish sequence.  It’s not meant to be a literal representation of what’s happening to "Marion" (Janet Leigh), or else we would have seen the killer’s face.  The scene, like every scene is every movie, is artifice, playing on the natural anxieties of being vulnerable and alone in a shower.  (You can watch an earlier, tamer, version of this same fear played out in "The Seventh Victim" (1943).) The shower murder was transgressive in its time, along with the scenes of Leigh in her bra and lounging about on a bed with her lover.  They showed a flushing toilet!  A man wore a woman’s dress!  Apart from those little details (no big deal, right?) this movie offers an entire curriculum on filmmaking, in building tension and inducing anxiety.  Even our bad guy, Norman Bates, has become iconic, both through his acting and the writing.  He’s just a dude who loves his mother.

[luckyluan]

CHAPTER 5.1: THE JOYRIDE

Maxim and Antwan sat close in the cab of the SUV. Antwan leaned against the passenger side door with his lips pressed firmly together. I-10 West shook the Bronco for good measure, and they grumbled down the forest framed highway. Maxim reclined in his seat. One of his hands guided the wheel and the other propped up on his door jamb. He scratched at the crown of his head as he maneuvered the stiff silence. 

“Still mad?” he asked. 

“Is an elephant heavy?” countered Antwan. 

“Baby, I’m sorry, okay? This is all my fault, and I am so deeply sorry. I will apologize every single day until the world ends. I’m sorry I endangered our family. I’m sorry I did it so close to you and the kids. I’m sorry I put my family in danger. I am sorry, Antwan.” Maxim expressed. 

Antwan was buckled into the passenger seat with his arms folded over his broad chest. The shiny black zipper of his jumpsuit was torn at his sternum and poked at the Kevlar vest underneath. 

“I’m not saying I forgive you but thank you for saying that.” he said. 

“I mean it.” Maxim affirmed. 

“I’m sure you do.” Antwan said. “But we don’t have time to think about that. Right now, we need a plan.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Maxim started. “We need to retrieve the case and get it to Bernard. His fingerprint is the only one that can open the case. 

“I’ve been thinking about that too though. Is this case worthy? We’ve handled worse on our own. Robin told us never to open that damned case unless we were out of options. Antwan warned. “Bernie is a one-way door.” 

“This isn’t a necessity to you?” Maxim charged. 

“It’s dangerous, but I, personally, have handled worse alone. So...” muttered his husband. 

“Like when?” 

“I don’t know, Maxim Sharpe. Maybe I’ve done some jobs of my own.” Antwan proclaimed. 

“So you’re just gonna skip over all the apologies I’ve made? Do I need to hire a skywriter? Take both hands off the wheel and look you in the eye so you can feel my gentility?” Maxim groaned. 

“I’ve felt your ‘gentility,’ Max. It couldn’t hurt.” replied Antwan. 

“Ant, I will wreck this car.” he warned. 

“Go for it. We’re dead anyway, thanks to you.” Antwan muttered again. 

Maxim slammed on the brake and the Bronco skidded to a halt in the far-left lane. The cars behind them broke into a cacophonous choir of horns and they exclaimed, to the heavens, their disappointment. Maxim unbuckled his seatbelt and crossed to the passenger side of the cab. He anchored a hand behind Antwan’s neck and pulled his husband’s face close to his own. 

“Look at me, Antwan. Look at me! I am sick of this! I have taken your verbal assaults since last night. They stop now. I cannot concentrate. We cannot stay alive if we don’t put this down. Do whatever it is you need to do in this moment to feel better. Hit me. Scratch me. Kick me in the nuts. Curse me out. Whatever it is, but we have work to do. So, tell me right fuckin’ now, what team you’re on. 

Maxim glowered down at his husband, and he did not shrink away. His husband’s face was an irritated pucker, and his fussy eyebrows were furrowed low over his gray eyes. Maxim’s chest heave dup and down. The car horns blared behind them and the cars in front of them raced off into the distance. They were alone. 

Antwan’s face contorted into a tight expression, and he brought his fist up into Maxim’s chin. The blow knocked Maxim back into his seat and he grasped the steering wheel for balance. He stared at Antwan with wide, watering eyes. 

“Good shot, babe. Still got a mean right.” he moaned. 

“Now, we can move on.” Antwan announced. “Drive, please.” 

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

With Entropy Effect's Early Access version releasing in just a few hours, I wanted to go over some of what we've learned from trailers, reviews, and sneak peaks that hasn't come up while I was analyzing the character spotlights.

Of course, do take time to note that I am writing this before even the early access version has dropped. What I discuss here may prove inaccurate to the game we'll get tonight, or the full release we'll see in the future.

Let's just have a little fun with some last minute speculation and analysis!

The gameplay visuals that we've seen so far have looked absolutely gorgeous. I love the character models and the way that battles turn into a light show. I'm a very simple creature, I can always be pleased with some colored lights. The environments and battle effects also look great- this game has very strong art direction. I mean, look at this!

Which really surprised me, and still confuses me, when compared to the artwork they've chosen to use as the face of the game.

Yeah, unfortunately we're gonna start this post with a little negativity, but it should be the last of it, so please be patient.

Or feel free to skip this rant, if you'd like to keep your coverage positive, or just read about what we know about the gameplay itself.

But seriously. What is this key visual. This is just the Central Fiction character select artwork!

Okay, correction; it's the Central Fiction artwork for most of the characters. Poor Hibiki doesn't even get his character select artwork, he's left as the odd man out with his CF story mode battle sprite.

And then there's Es! What did they do to Es!? I don't know enough about graphic design to be able to tell what happened here, but something about her face looks like they tossed her art, and only hers, through some kind of AI filter. She's been weirdly smoothed out and she looks way paler, and more gray, than the rest of the line up. This straight up hurts to look at.

For the first few months after Entropy Effect's announcement, I thought the game was fanmade, because all the key visuals they were pumping out were (and, thus far, still are) made up of the basic official art that appears as the first images when you do a google search of the characters.

How did this get greenlit? They really couldn't afford to pay an artist? I can't even say "they couldn't afford to hire and artist" because, looking at the gameplay, clearly they did! They hired some very good artists! Why not write one more paycheck to get some cover art out of the incredible talent they already have on board?

Okay, okay, SaltFest is over. Coping and seething have been reigned in. Let's get into the fun stuff.

Trailers so far have indicated that the story of Entropy Effect is original, with no clear connection to that of the BlazBlue series- although it seems to share a significant amount of thematic elements with BlazBlue.

The story looks kind of cyberpunk, revolving around a world filled with these little robot guys. Our main character seems to be called "ACER," though whether that's their name, a descriptor, or a title, there's no way to tell- at least, for a few more hours. Sources claim that, similar to BlazBlue's story, there are themes of a looping existence, looming destruction, and fighting to ensure the very existence of a future.

Something that stood out to me in trailers, but I haven't seen spoken about anywhere, are these things called "Phenomena Fragments." They seem to showcase scenes from the lives of human figures in this gray dust-like particle effect.

If I had to make any guesses, I'd say this looks like a post-humanity story, with our ACER using the BlazBlue cast within some kind of simulation.

One thing we do know is that the word 'Entropy' in the title will be integral to the plot, as some cutscene dialogue warns of an "Entropy Shoreline" that may threaten to bring an end to the world our protagonist lives in. The robotic inhabitants of this world also seem to have some kind of god figure, though not all of them believe in it.

Those who have played the game say that Entropy works as a mechanic in the game that increases the difficulty of the run as it builds. I'm interested to see how it plays into the story...!

The full truth of the story will remain a mystery, at least for another hour, but all reviews that have spoken of it so far have been very positive.

Now let's move on to take a look at some of the gameplay!

I saw this screen a while back, with what looks to be 30 available places for characters. At first, I assumed this meant that the game would have 30 different playable characters- I mistook this for a character select screen. Keyword being mistook.

Instead, it looks like the 30 slots on this screen are to save up to 30 builds from previous runs. We see the same screen again here, with two different versions of Lambda saved on it, and the other characters in different positions than the one above. As I'll discuss later in the post, previous runs of the game will be used to pass on certain skills to your next character at the start of a new run. So this screen will probably end up looking different for all players!

The real character selection screen loops, so there's no way to know how many characters will appear in the final version. However, the company has confirmed that there will be more than the seven we'll see in the Early Access version.

The seven characters playable in early access Entropy Effect are Ragna, Noel, Hakumen, Lambda, Kokonoe, Hibiki, and Mai. The games animated trailer (which also looks great, I don't know what happened with the damn key visual) also shows us Jin and Taokaka, who will likely be made playable with the full version of the game. Considering Naoto is the face of the game's Twitter and YouTube accounts, I expect to see him in the final version as well.

As for characters appearing as enemies, Bang's NPC subordinates from BlazBlue's story mode have been shown to appear as generic enemies in certain stages, and both Arakune and Susano'o have appeared as bosses!

After selecting which character you want to play as, you're taken to the screen I mistook for character selection, where you can select two characters you've played as in previous runs, called "Evotypes" in the game. You can have your new character inherit abilities from them- the number of abilities you can inherit from your chosen characters seems to depend on how well you've been doing in your runs, as each run earns some kind of grade. This explains how we've been seeing characters using one another's abilities, such as Hibiki using Hakumen's lightning, in the trailers!

While playing, you earn points called "Potential," which can be used between stages to purchase new abilities. This seems to be where characters unlock their movesets from the BlazBlue fighting games.

There's also a second type of choice players can make as they develop their run. These are called "Tactics." Unlike the abilities unlocked by Potential that seem to be exclusive to characters unless chosen as inherited Evotypes, Tactics are universal and can be purchased for and used by any character.

In a video on his experience playing the game early, Twitch streamer Veedotme says the game rewards you for selecting Tactics you haven't used before, so consider trying out everything before you start picking favorites! Veedotme's review also clarified a lot of what I comment on in this post, so please check out his work!

Interviews claim that the game's early access version will have roughly 100 Potentials and roughly 200 Tactics to choose from, though there could be even more in the final version of the game.

It seems that the early access version will include 10 different stages, with 13 levels each, along with a few other modes of gameplay such as a challenge mode were the stage bosses become even more difficult. I've mentioned it already in other posts, but I like this 10 and 13 number theming, as both numbers have been pretty important to the BlazBlue franchise. It's another sign of serious attention to detail from the developers.

And, well, if I want to get this post out in time to be able to watch some of the first streams go live, I'll have to wrap it up now. Thank you for reading, and if you're interested, please share your own experience with the game in the coming days!

[lucygraysboy]

billy isn’t a fan of men in general and would rather hang out with cockroaches, but the ones who lay hands on women are the ultimate scum in his dictionary. it’s a particularly sore subject because of his ma, and how when he was just a little boy, he wasn’t always able to protect her from his stepfather’s anger. he would never hurt a woman, let a woman as dear to his heart as lucy gray, and so her reassurance means the world to him. a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he leans in and gently rests his forehead against hers. a silent thank you passing between them as he nuzzles into her palm, just happy that she’s still here, that they can hold each other like this. “we’ll put somethin’ on it when we get home.” a cold compress or aloe to help with the swelling and bruising. though, he doubts aloe can be found here. after all, he’s no longer in new mexico where it just grows on the side of the road.

“well, let’s see,” he laughs, but it comes out dry and humorless, pulling back but still gazing down at her with nothing but affection in his eyes, his fingertips tucking her hair behind her ear, “you can’t really take me anywhere without lookin’ over your shoulder. i can’t even come to one of your shows and just be myself.” he can’t even introduce himself as william h. bonney to her friends. “i might have to skip town one day.” that’s the part that hurts the most because he’d love to settle down, but knowing how easily peace can be taken away from him, it’s off the table. he’ll never marry, never have children, probably shouldn’t form any deeper, more meaningful connections with anyone because he might be forced to just up and leave one day. “and i just want to find an honest job and even if someone hires me, what are the chances of them finding out that i’m wanted and coming back home with a sheriff one day?” maybe now’s not the time for such conversations, since it feels like they’re both in this raw, vulnerable state, and billy’s eyes are already watering all over again, but he figures that she needs to know what exactly befriending him means for her. 

still, his features light up when she mentions the bracelet, just now noticing that she’s had it on her wrist the whole time. his heart does a little jump. “they’re our lucky charms, i think,” he muses, gently bumping their wrists together, beads clanking softly as they collide. “you’re ‘bout to make me cry, lucy gray.” you’re just billy to me. he doesn’t get emotional easily but as her arms coil around his neck, his own wrapped tightly around her small waist, their chests pressed against one another, skin on skin, hearts beating in unison… he closes his eyes and just holds her for a moment, burying his face in her wet curls. just billy. it’s all he’s ever wanted to hear. he hasn’t been just billy since his ma passed away, and this heals something deep inside him. “i’m so lucky to have met you, lucy gray. you’re an angel. the sweetest bluebird.” he refuses to be the first to let go, mostly because he loves having her in his arms, but also because there are tears rolling down his cheeks. all the fear and frustrations, all the sadness, leaving his body. 

“listen, i do believe that. i believe that already. you don’t gotta go worryin’ about this…it was called for. you didn’t hit me, you were helpin’ me breathe again. there was nothin’ else we could do and remember— i’m the one that told you to do it, i gave you the ok to.” lucy gray reassures, since she just thinks he’s still feeling guilty for this particular thing and thinkin’ her head is filled with thoughts about him hitting her for the wrong reasons and it definitely isn’t. “i don’t take you as someone who’d put your hands on me in a bad way or an angry way, don’t worry darlin’.” voice takes a nurturing tone, worry knitting her brows because she doesn’t want him to think otherwise, hand gently stroking his cheek. “that feels nice.” brows softened, smiling in content at his hand soothingly rubbing her back. she appreciates that and could melt right against his feel from the soothing sensation it brings. “yes, really. ‘course i do. you been nothin’ but kind to me and considerate the whole day i’ve met you in…what’s not to like about you?” helped her with breakfast and then those dishes, didn’t rely on her to do it even despite him being the one that’s the guest, helped her take care of the animals and the garden, made bracelet crafts with her, offered to teach her things then saved her life. he’s done so many sweet and kind things in a day’s time, that most people couldn’t accomplish in their life time. “i got a bracelet to prove it, too.” a little smile finally twitched at her lips, pushing away the fear and sadness out of her doe gaze. “we all got flaws. you bein’ an outlaw ain’t goin’ to overpower who you are on the inside.” a finger gently prodded into his heart, shaking her head softly. “you’re not an outlaw to me. you’re just billy to me.” lucy gray corrects, smiling sweetly as her gaze scans his features. “that is crazy, hm?” she took a moment to think about it, pausing in bewilderment. she did save him yesterday and he saved her today… how exactly does that begin to happen? “i think we’re certainly dotted in the stars.” a bond that was meant to be born between them, she confirms. then leans in and arms envelope around his neck, hugging him to her, resting her cheek on top of her arm over his shoulder. taking him in as he begins to feel less like a stranger and someone her heart’s growing a deep care for.