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sarawritestories · 11 months ago

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.” Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided. As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

#cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #archeron sister #unwaveringpresence #cassian acosf #cassian imagine

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suikung · 4 months ago

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Hi! Can I request something with Itachi and Kisame nonconning Itachi's little sister when they go to the village to capture Naruto and she tries to protect her friend? And Itachi is really mean to her especially since he's in front of Kisame🫣 stay safe and have a good day/night💗

A knock resonated throughout Naruto’s room. Both of you weren’t expecting any guests over so it was quite strange. Naruto was quick on his feet to open the door, to careless to even ask who it was. But honestly who it was would have surely not responded back. What stand in front of him were two figures dressed in robes with straw hats. “Hey! Who are you guys?” Quickly Naruto was pushed into a wall. “A bit harsh don’t you think Itachi?” spoke the man with the sword clinging on his back. You froze. Had you heard correctly? Was the other man standing to the right, the one who had just thrown Naruto at a walk your older brother. Rage took over your body, rushing from your spot on the floor to Itachi with a kunai in hand. Immediately you were disarmed. “It seems our Jinchuriki had guests” the same man from earlier spoke up.

“What did you do to Naruto?!” Despite being in a vulnerable state in front of them, you quickly rush over to check on your friend. He was alive but the push into the wall he received from Itachi had knocked him out cold. Ensuring his safety you turned back to the two men, “Why did you come back Itachi?” It was silent, no one dared to speak. Finally he spoke, a voice you recognized as Itachi’s but one that had lost all its emotion. “That doesn’t concern you, but now that we’re here I’ll tend to some business I left.” Could he mean he was going to kill you after not doing so the night of the Uchiha massacre? “Itachi you know this brat?” You could know see the men more clearly, having removed their hats. Itachi looked the same, those deep lines below his eyes however grew worse. What seemed to be his partner was a shark, a shark with legs the best way you could describe it.

“Well Itachi?” his partner spoke up, sounding clearly annoyed at the lack of response. “Yes, Kisame she’s my younger sister.” The man called Kisame looked stunned, clearly he did not know Itachi had a younger sibling apart from Sasuke. “Well she sure it quite the beauty. I don’t know how you just left her here when you left. Personally since I would’ve taken her with me.” It was dead silent, your heart beating faster still unsure of their next moves on you. You could only cling harder to Naruto hoping he would regain conscious soon, but it wasn’t looking as if it would happen. “I intend on taking her, just not with me back with me. You’re more than welcome to join Kisame.” Itachi appeared right behind you, dragging you off of Naruto and onto his bed. “Well well. Don’t mind if I do. I didn’t think you had it in you Itachi.”

With one hand Itachi held you down on the bed and with the other he pulled off his robe. You tried to free yourself from his hold, but even with one hand he managed to over power you. From the side appeared Kisame, disrobed as well, giving you a clear view of just how strong he looked.

“You haven’t gotten any stronger, you’re still weak (Y/n). There’s truly no way you’re be able to escape the both of us.” Itachi’ spoke, his eyes glaring at you with the sharingan. His words hurt, but they didn’t matter. You kicked your feet at him, hoping he’d retreat from you but he did not. Instead with a look he signaled to Kisame to grab your legs. However he did much worse. He pulled off your pants leaving you only in your underwear. ‘No, they’re not going to do that to me are they.’ The panic on your face evident as ever, but before you could scream for help Itachi had activated his magekyo placing you under a genjustu. Quickly they disposed of the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully naked in front of the man you once called your brother. Both men undid their pants, dropping them to the floor.

You were now positioned in an upright position, Itachi in front of you and Kisame behind you. Finally Itachi ended his genjustu, and the first thing you saw in front of you was him. Sheer horror was plastered on your face as you looked around to realize you were naked and the men around you were partially. The position made it no better. Kisame’s hands were wrapped around your waist,however they didn’t stay there long as they glided down onto your folds.

This slightly enraged Itachi, why wasn’t he the first one to touch you, but no less he’d have to step it up. His arm brought your face forward, kissing you harsh. His tongue lapped around your teeths, trying to break through your teeth. Met with resistance he squeezed your nipples, the sudden pain causing you to shriek. This allowed him to enter your map, tasting his own sister.

Kisame’s hands made quick work through your folds, landing right on your clit. This being a spot you’d never knew you had. The sudden touch on the bundle of nerves sent a chill down your spine. “I think she’s ready don’t you think Itachi?” His tone of voice almost told you he was smirking behind you. You pulled away from Itachi, tears now in your eyes a silent plea for him to reconsider.

“Mhm” was all that left him. With that Kisame lifted you up. Just enough for them to line themselves to your pussy. You had no time to prepare, a virgin, about to take two cocks. First Kisame inserted himself in, the sudden stretch left you silencing screaming. So painful no sound managed to escape you. Second was Itachi, practically ripping you apart now. The scream that had refused to come out now exerting itself full force.

No time was left for you to adjust, you probably wouldn’t even with time from the sheer combined diameter of their cocks. A synced rhythm game from them, having no trouble syncing as they were battle partners.

Itachi stared intently at you, his sharingan being activated just incase you tried to pull anything. “Don’t cry acting as if you’ve never imagined your brother taking you. You’ve always just been a little whore. I’m just finishing what I should’ve done a long time ago.” His words coming out with grunts in between. “Please Itachi, just let me go and I won’t let anyone you were here!” Despite the position you were in, you still pleaded to him. Hoping he had one ounce of remorse, the sympathies brother he once was still in him.

“You really think I’ll let you stay here? We’re taking you back with us. I can’t leave my sister here to slut herself out after experiencing having cock inside her for the first time.” Kisame laughed behind you, he couldn’t believe such a stoic man as his partner was saying this to his own family.

The men sped up, stomachs tightening up from not only being in such a tight space but from having their cocks rub against each other. “Not inside her Kisame. That’s my privilege.” Your eyes widened at his words. You weren’t stupid you knew how pregnancy came to be. “No! Itachi please. No no no!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears.

Kisame quickly pulled out releasing his seed on your lower back. Itachi on the other hand continued fucking into you, his thrusts quickening until they became sloppy. Immediately your insides warmed. He had finished inside you, he really did it.

He kissed your forehead before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “We will beat Sasuke in restoring the Uchiha clan my dear sister.”

#yandere naruto #naruto #akatsuki x reader #tw.dark content #tw.incest #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #kisame hoshigaki #kisame x reader

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sunnyrisee · 5 months ago

Text

Message In A Bottle — Bang Chan

pairing : idol! bang chan x fem! reader

genre : angst with fluff ending, childhood friends to lovers.

summary : you've been loving chan for as long as you can remember, but sadly, he was clueless. you bottled up all your feelings into notes, each folded into different shapes, hoping that one day you could give this bottle of emotions to him.

word count : 3,605

author's note : this is my first time writing on tumblr. also, inspired by fyp on tiktok (i honestly forgot the username). lastly, i apologize if there are any mistakes.

You loved him from the very beginning.

You've been there for him since childhood, watching him grow from a nobody into someone cherished by millions.

Years passed, and your bond with Chan only grew stronger. You were his best friend, his confidante, the one who always believed in him, even when no one else did. You were the one who gently rubbed circles on his back when the sad days overwhelmed him, dropping everything just to see Chan again and bring a smile to his face.

He only let you wrap your arms around him, only you play with his hair, only you caress his cheeks and wipe away his tears. You were his safe haven, his source of comfort in the storm.

It's always like that.

The day Stray Kids debuted was the happiest day of his life. And yours too, because you knew how much it meant to him. You stood in the crowd, tears streaming down your face, as you watched him light up the stage.

As the group gained popularity and recognition, that's when the distance between the two of you started to widen. It wasn't his fault; you understood the demands of his career.

Shouldn't you be happy for his success? Shouldn't you be proud of him? He had waited for this day to come, years of training and sacrifices finally paying off.

Thankfully, he still visits your apartment sometimes, though not as often as before. Back then, you used to talk about everything under the sun with him. Now, it's just a brief hello followed by a bitter goodbye that stings your heart.

As night fell, you found yourself flipping through your old photo album. There were pictures of little Chan and you, captured in moments of pure happiness, building sandcastles, watching sunsets, and running around together, laughing without a care in the world.

You look at your phone and see a message from Chan. You hate the way he can make your heart flutter and a warm feeling spread across your cheeks.

Somehow, a twinge of jealousy crept in. There were countless stunning idols who could easily catch his eye. You scrutinized yourself in the mirror, painfully aware of your differences.

You were just you, not like them—plain, ordinary, and feeling hopelessly inadequate.

But you tried to think positively, reminding yourself to wait for your turn. Chan had always told you to trust your heart and be patient. However, why did you feel such a tightness in your chest, as if tears were threatening to spill?

You sit there clutching your shirt, feeling the intense moment pierce your heart open. You don't know her, but all you can see is her slowly taking your place. It feels like you're watching your own nightmare unfold. God, she's more beautiful than you.

You try not to think of it, but each passing moment makes it harder to ignore. The way they laugh together, and the way Chan gently tucks her hair behind her ear, hurts you more than ever before. It's the same thing he used to do when you were studying hard for exams, a gesture that once brought you comfort and now only brings pain.

Once again, you try to hold back your tears that threaten to spill. You hide it quite well, but little did you know, Felix observed the way you shifted and how you looked away from the scene. He's the only one who knows about your feelings for Chan. He wants to approach you, but you slowly get up, ready to leave before anyone notices your teary eyes.

You hate seeing yourself this vulnerable. No, you've never felt this weak before.

You take your bag and pull out a bottle filled with paper folded into cute shapes. Each one contains messages you've been writing for Chan for all these years. It's your secret way of expressing yourself when words fail you, something Chan has never known about. You took out a small piece of paper and wrote one more message before you left. As you penned the words, you finally let your tears fall freely. You could only hear your painful sobs as you folded the paper into a heart shape.

'For My Channie'

You felt a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch slightly. Turning around, you saw the freckled boy with a big smile on his face.

"I made brownies, you know?" Felix grinned. "Thanks to your help that day, I finally didn't burn the kitchen down again."

His warm smile always melted your heart. Felix felt like a little brother to you. Whenever Chan wasn't around, he would check on you, asking if you had eaten or if you were okay. As soon as he saw the tear stains on your cheeks, he understood how much pain you were in. He had never seen you like this before.

"T-Thanks, Lix." You choked out, wiping away your tears. Felix then told you to wait as he quickly packed some of the brownies just for you.

"Here." He said gently, handing you a small package. His caring eyes met yours, offering a small glimmer of comfort in your moment of sorrow. You bowed to him gratefully and whispered a small thank you.

"Felix, could you give this bottle to Chan when he's alone?" You asked, handing him the bottle filled with paper folded into various shapes, each containing a message inside. He was confused at first, but then he nodded understandingly. Giving you a thumbs up, you quietly slipped away, hoping your message would reach Chan and convey everything your heart couldn't say aloud.

You looked at them for one last time, hoping that Chan would notice your absence. But he didn't seem to realize, continuing to talk and laugh with her. He looked so happy, so clearly in love. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the ache of everything weighing heavily on you. You slowly shut your eyes, trying not to care about what was happening.

As you arrived home, you burst into your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed. The floodgates opened, and you cried uncontrollably, your sobs echoing through the empty room. The pain and loneliness consumed you, each tear a testament to the heartache you had been holding back for so long. Your chest heaved with every breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again, and the tears seemed endless, soaking your pillow as you cried yourself into exhaustion.

"He doesn't care. He never did. Why would you fall for him, Y/n?" You whispered to yourself through your tears. "You should know better... He's an idol now."

You continued to cry as you gathered all the things that reminded you of him and put them into a box. You weren't going to throw them away; you just needed to put them out of sight so you could try to move on.

"Why did I let myself fall for you? And even make you my home... A home I can never get into... Despite knowing every corner of it's well..." You murmured softly, your voice cracking with emotion as you reflected on the depth of your feelings.

As the day went on, you focused on your job as a doctor, dedicating yourself wholeheartedly to helping others, much like Felix. Despite your busy shift, thoughts of Chan lingered in your mind. During breaks, you checked your messages, hoping for a notification from him, but there was nothing.

Why couldn't you just forget about him?

When you finally returned home, a message from him awaited you. He asked about your day and more, and you found yourself staring at the screen, unsure of how to react. Frozen in place, you felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, leaving you at a loss for what to do next.

Isn't this what you wanted? Why do you feel so afraid now, when it's finally happening? The conflicting emotions swirl within you, uncertainty clouding your heart despite longing for this moment.

A month without your calls, messages, and silly pick-up lines. Chan hated to admit that he missed your presence. He tried to reach out, asking how you were, if you had eaten, or if he could come to your apartment. However, every time he asked, you always had plenty of excuses.

It's like you're avoiding him.

"Hyung, after Y/n left the party that night, she gave me this. She said it's for you. I don't know, hyung, but when she left... I could tell she was holding back her tears." Felix handed Chan the bottle, and Chan took it, his brow furrowing in confusion. He turned it over in his hands, trying to understand its significance.

You're sad? Why didn't you tell him? What could have possibly made you this upset?

The bottle was from the time you were both still in high school. You both went to a park on a sunny afternoon, exploring a quaint antique truck that had caught your eye. Among them was a small, intricately designed bottle that had caught Y/n's attention. Chan had secretly bought it for you, knowing how much you admired it.

Now, clutching the same bottle in his hands, Chan wondered why Y/n had entrusted it to Felix. His mind raced with questions.

Felix observed Chan closely, hoping that he would finally realize your true feelings. Chan, however, seemed completely clueless.

Chan worked tirelessly until night fell, consumed with stress over the new song. His mind raced with thoughts, unable to focus. As he trailed off, lost in his thoughts, he noticed a little note peeking out from between the folded papers inside the bottle. He noticed that the bottle wasn't just filled with paper shapes.

He picked up one that was shaped like a star and carefully unfolded it.

"Today is Chan's first audition. I hope Chan gets it. He's been working hard for it."

A smile slowly spread across Chan's face as he read the note. His eyes softened with warmth, and a hint of nostalgia flickered in them. He took another paper shape, and carefully unfolded it.

"They finally get a first win! I'm so proud of them!"

He stifled a laugh as he remembered how the kids had cried when they were announced as the winners.

"Channie wants to buy a present for his parents. I'm going to save some money to help him :)"

The note revealed your thoughtful plan to assist Chan with buying a gift for his parents. He soon recalled his savings, surprised to realize that you had helped him accumulate them. That's when he took out all the notes and read through each one carefully. He noticed how the words became more emotional.

"Someday, I want to know not only the colors of you eyes but also the colors of your dreams."

"I told my family and friends to support Chan and all the StrayKids members. They need more recognition!"

"Happiness is when I am excited to meet you and you're excited to meet me too."

"It's your first time on stage, I can't believe how far you've come."

"Your eyes are the warmest place in the world even when I'm looking at them under the coldest rain."

"I hope my Channie is surrounded by people who care and love him. He deserves so much love."

"Don't you ever forget, your authenticity, the real you is more beautiful than all the well-received, striking, scenic facades in this world combined."

"You look tired these days. I hope you get much rest. Don't be such a workaholic, dumbass!"

"How's Korea? You look happier there. Glad to see you with that big smile. Well, I'm still studying here :D"

"When I'm by your side, it's like all of my fears, worries and anxieties melt away thanks to your warm presence."

"No one knows how to ignite the fire in my heart the way you do."

"Channie, I finally became a doctor. I kept my promise, and you are the first person I told :]"

"I'm so in love with you, Chan. In an instant, I knew what I felt. In a brief moment, I knew exactly that you were the one."

Chan read every single one of your notes, tears streaming down his face as he realized how clueless he had been all these years about your feelings. His smile faded as he remembered everything you had done for him—the way you dropped everything just to be there for him, always making time to listen to his thoughts and talk about seemingly unimportant things.

After all this time, you always there for him. His mind slowly repeating all the memories he have with you.

He thought of her long hair, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall. He could almost feel its softness, the way it slipped through his fingers. He remembered her soft smile, the one that could light up even his darkest days, a smile so pure and genuine that it made his heart swell with love.

Her beautiful features danced in his mind's eye, the curve of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if he were her whole world. He missed the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her embrace, the way she would nuzzle into his chest and sigh contentedly.

How could he have been so clueless?

There was one last paper shaped like a heart. As Chan examined it, he realized that the last paper was a bit messy. He softly opened it, his hands trembling slightly.

"And you know what? The reason why I kept holding on was, I always thought that perhaps, you were waiting for me, too..."

That was the last message. His tears, already streaming down, turned into uncontrollable sobs. How could he have been so oblivious? He cried out loud, unable to believe how foolish he had been. Chan clutched the heart-shaped paper to his chest, memories flooding his mind. The weight of his realization bore down on him, crushing his heart with the knowledge of what could have been.

Now, he couldn't think of anyone else he wanted to spend his life with. It has always been you.

A memory flashed in his mind of how deeply you cared for him, the only one who truly understood him, and the one who had always been there for him through thick and thin.

Felix stood in the doorway, watching Chan break down, his own heart aching for both of you. He had always known about your feelings, had seen the way you looked at Chan, the way you lit up whenever he was around. Now, seeing Chan's reaction, he hoped his friend would finally understand the depth of your love.

He quietly stepped in, placing a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder as he looked up at the younger boy.

"It's been a month, hyung. Do you know that she watched you, in pain, getting close to that girl?" He murmured softly. He described how tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed Chan caress the girl's hair. Chan's expression crumbled as he absorbed Felix's words, the weight of your unspoken pain settling heavily on his heart. He hadn't realized how much his actions had hurt you until now, and the regret gnawed at him.

"Yah! Are you trying to age yourself prematurely? Stop working so hard, it's showing!"

He stood up abruptly, determination replacing the sorrow on his face. He had to find you, to tell you that he finally understood, that he felt the same way. He couldn't let you slip away, not after everything. Chan grabbed his coat and headed to the door, leaving Felix standing silently. He couldn't shake the image of your tear-filled eyes and the pain he had caused you.

As he was on his way, traffic came to a standstill, and he cursed under his breath. Why was the world moving so slowly for him now? Was this some kind of punishment?

"I've been exhausted lately, pulling night shifts. The chilly nights only seem to make it worse."

As he drove to the hospital, memories of you filled his mind. He recalled the times you had mentioned how hard you worked, often taking night shifts at the hospital. He could feel the cold breeze seeping through, making him shiver. He cursed himself for telling you that you would survive and everything was fine.

He swore that even he might catch a cold from the frigid breeze.

With each breath turning to mist in the cold air, Chan hurried into the hospital. He sprinted through the corridors, regret pushing him forward, and discovered you in the break room, exhausted after a long shift.

"It would mean a lot if you knew that while you're caught up in your own world, you know I'm working just as hard."

It all became clear to him. All those times you talked about your work—the stress you faced, the small victories you cherished, and how you always tried to keep things positive despite your tiredness.

He watched from outside the door, and for the first time in his life, he was captivated by your beauty. Your hair, casually pulled into a ponytail, draped over your shoulders in flowing waves, emphasizing your effortless allure. The calming rhythm of your breath and the tranquil elegance of your sleeping pose created a breathtaking vision that left him awestruck.

"Apologies for not messaging you. Whenever I get exhausted, I crash in the break room."

The moment you opened your eyes, Chan's concerned face came into view, his expression a silent plea for forgiveness.

"Chris? W-What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt and confusion in your voice.

Chris—the government nickname you never use. Just hearing it made his heart ache, a painful reminder of the distance and misunderstandings between you.

Is this what you've been feeling all along?

He was lost in his own thoughts for several minutes before he managed to find an answer. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. He felt an overwhelming urge to hold you close, to kiss you, but the words caught in his throat.

"I'm an idiot, Y/n. I only focused on my own life and goals while y-you were there watching and supporting me. I didn't see what was right in front of me all along. I didn't see how important you were until now. I'm sorry it t-took me this amount of time to truly understand your feelings..." Chan explained, his voice trembling.

"The truth, Y/n, is that I love you. It took me a long time to unravel the depths of my own heart. You're the missing piece that completes and brings together my scattered, disordered, and messy life... Baby, I'm gonna feel bad for myself if I never had a chance of knowing you in this, o-or any other lifetime. At the end of a challenging day, I just want to come home to your peaceful presence, rest my head on your stomach, and share all the day's burdens with you." He spoke, his voice breaking with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, the sincerity and desperation in his voice breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

"And, Y/n. Yes, I've been w-waiting for you too, love." Chan said, his voice trembling, as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms.

You held him close as he cried on your shoulder, his sobs shaking his entire body. You whispered comforting words, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe his anguish. His tears soaked through your shirt, but you didn't mind.

"Shh, it's okay, Chan. I'm here." You murmured softly. His grip on you tightened, as if he feared you might disappear if he let go.

"I'm so sorry, b-baby. I should have seen how much you were hurting. I love you so much, love. Please, forgive me..." He choked out between sobs, his voice filled with regret and pain. You shushed him gently, your fingers running through his hair.

"I love you too, Channie. I will always love you. A thousand year from now, I will still love you like I did a thousand years before." You comforted him, and he sought your warmth, clinging to you tightly.

Chan looked closely into your eyes, cupping your cheek and gently drawing your lips to his. He slowly pressed his lips to yours, in a kiss that spoke of deep passion, tender affection, and a softness that made your heart flutter. Time seemed to stand still, every second stretching into an eternity as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

You both gently pulled away as your eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding. A smile blossomed on your lips, reflecting the warmth.

"The search is over. Amongst the loneliness of the universe, I've finally found you."

#stray kids #skz angst #skz x reader #skz #stay #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan #christopher bang #angst with a happy ending #skz imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan imagines #bang chan icons

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etherealsworldvision · 7 months ago

Text

What is a step you can take toward your own well-being?

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about: Marine Conservation Institute. They’re a non-profit organization working to defend our ocean by advocating for stronger protection and to save the ocean for all of us and future generations. If you’re interested do check them out and if you’d like to further support this organization click donate.

New song discovery for the reading: Elijah Waters - Perfectly Silent

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings!

Added Description: all my readings are timeless and meant to reach those who resonate to the messages.

[ Collective Messages: 234 (or 2:34? I’m not religious but for some reason I got this?); Leaving the past behind; Elevating; Patience; Timing; Learning to walk again; Stumbling; Material abundance; Getting news about material/job offers; Your confirmation is Yes; Positive changes; Water wheel finally turning; Think before speaking; Rainbows and Sunshine. Mars Placements.]

Pile 1

“My head is like a washing machine. Tried to wash away these thoughts, still can’t get clean.”

Cards: 9 of Wands Reversed; Emperor; 10 of Cups Reversed; Empress Reversed; 2 of Hearts; Queen of Clubs; Six of Clubs

[ Messages: Stubborn; Self-Sabotage; Fear of Change; Overthinking; Stagnation; “Just Do It”; Red Sox; Baseball; Taking initiative; Ares; Aries placement; Coffee; Accepting your heart; Janine Teagues; “Things will go wrong whether you’re doing what you want or not. For me, regrets are always harder to live with than consequences. I don’t regret […] living my life to the fullest […] it’ll be alright, trust me.”– Mr. Johnson ( Abbott elementary S3EP14 timestamp 16:10 - 17:08). ]

The first thing standing out to me is your emotional and mental health. You may be experiencing a time where you’re unable to take care of yourself. This isn’t to shame you, I just want to acknowledge that you’re already doing enough. If no one said this to you today; I am so proud of you. Another thing I do want to say is: please reach out to your support system or check in with yourself. Honestly you don’t need to prove anything to be deserving of love and happiness. It’s okay to want and need something that emotionally fulfills you.

I feel like this pile is very independent and an over-thinker which can cause burnout, as well as aiding in self-sabotaging tendencies. For some reason I feel like you may “psych yourself out of it,” meaning you’re so excited about something only to get worried before having a chance. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow but it needs to be said. Self-sabotaging and overthinking is what’s holding you back. You may be experiencing Imposter Syndrome and Control issues as a result.

With the emperor, empress, and queen of clubs here — you are very much qualified to go after what you want. It does look like you're someone who knows what to do, is aware of the things you need, and what you want. I don’t know if it is a job or related to your social life, however, there’s this feeling of being overqualified for something or feeling deserving of more/better.

There is also a confirmation here that things will get better and you will get what you want. However, it is you who decides to go after it. I do recommend looking up books about self-sabotaging or YouTube videos about this topic. If you are in therapy, maybe this is a subject you’d like to bring up?

A good question to ask yourself is: What have I always accepted as true that turned out to be false?

So that’s all I’m getting. I know this reading is short and straightforward. I would like to say thank you for taking your time reading this and I hope this reading resonates with you.

Pile 2

[ Cards: King of Swords; The Devil Reversed; Page of Wands; Queen of Cups; King of Spades; 3 of Hearts; Jack of Diamonds; 5 of Hearts ]

Messages: Retreating; Refuting; Verbally Vindictive; 3H Mars; Leo or Cancer Mars; Fire and Water Placements; Trauma Dumping; Changes in Communication; Online Regina George Trope; Air Signs (Specifically Suns); Birthdays; Online Personality; Healing; Dictator - Rei Ami; YouTube commentary or essays about online ( trends )

I feel a bit overwhelmed when reading this pile. As if I have to be someone I’m not? I feel that social media is really coming in, especially TikTok/Twitter discourses. There’s this sense of having to upkeep and over consume to be considered a: ✨main character✨ otherwise “you’re just not cool and an utterly boring, basic loser, yuck 🤢 🤮, You’re not even a side character yikes.” /J (I am using sarcasm and joking).

For some of you I get the feeling that this could be stemming from social media addiction, others it may be, that you are embodying the online personality. Over all this just feels like a huge weight on your shoulders or a ball and chain on your leg. In an odd way; maybe your phone or whatever you use is home to you? It’s where you can express yourself via feelings, personality, opinions, etc. This is in no way to shame you at all. I also use social media and so does the next person, right?

There’s this need to give yourself a balance again. To double check with yourself on how you’re feeling after using social media. I feel most of you are ready to gain control of your media consumption or at least contemplate the effects it has on you. Taking a step back from social media — maybe trying out a hobby or just reconnecting to something that makes you feel like you may help.

Also if you want YouTube recommendations on over consuming let me know, I can send you the links. The number one takeaway is that it’s okay to be yourself. You being you is main character energy. No amount of products, social media influenced personality, or aesthetics can take that away from you. You are enough, I promise you that. It’s okay to want to change but if you’re feeling influenced by something that isn’t true to you then you might want to ponder on that and ask if that is really what you resonate with.

A good question to ask yourself is: What is one small step I can take today towards a goal that feels out of reach?

That’s all I’m getting for you pile 2! If you stuck around this far I’d like to say thank you so much. I greatly appreciate it and hope you resonate with this reading.

Pile 3

[ Cards: 4 of Cups, Ace of Pentacles Reversed; Five of Pentacles Reversed; Queen of Cups; 9 of Diamonds; 6 of Diamonds; Queen of Diamonds; Ace of Hearts ]

Messages; Open mind and heart; Chihiro by Billie Eilish; Money Growth; Finances; Earth and Water placements; Fear of Missing Out; Take out; Diners; Over consumption; Capitalism; Low Income; 111; Unemployment

( Tw: financial experience and control issues. Disclaimer: for some reason I feel called to talk about my financial experience and how I dealt with this. Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for in my experience? )

So I had been unemployed for two years then found a job for 3 months then unemployed again for a year. When I tell you, I searched for a job everywhere, I mean everywhere! I applied everywhere and every time. I even tried to save what I could and budget with what I had (I live with my family and occasionally would get money. I understand/am aware of the privilege and support I have. I’m also very grateful and appreciate them)

I yelled at the universe, cried, and had sleepless nights. However, what helped me (besides living with my family) through this tough time is to focus on things I can control while applying for jobs. That’s what honestly made me stay afloat. So maybe this is what can help you during this trying time?

Finding a (free) third place meaning: the park, public library, or just a walk may help ease a bit of tension. Sometimes journaling or confiding with someone will help as well. Doing something that helps you remain in the present and eases the anxiousness could help. I know this may not be what you were looking for and I wish I can give you financial advice but that is not my forte.

There is only so much control we have when it comes to finances and it is certainly not a lesson from the universe or it’s not happening to you or happening for you. I don't care what they say, it is not a lesson! It is just an unfortunate situation to be in, it just is. Like yes you can learn from it but it is not something (pre)destined or “contract” written. It just happens and we live in late stage capitalism. That’s me being real with you.

So yeah, I’m sorry for the little tangent. What I am getting is to fill your emotional cup for the meantime. Yes, do what you need to do with your finances; finding a job or to save/budget money whatever you can do to the best of your abilities.

You just have to remember to do things that are within your control and to not neglect your emotional/mental health. If singing, drawing, talking, or simple things like cloud watching helps you stay present and makes you feel in control then by all means do that.

I’m not saying to use escapism but I am saying to do your best to emotionally check in with yourself from time to time. Also if you have a support system do talk with them or be around them. A good question to ask yourself is: “Who do I feel most myself around? Why?”

This is all that I’m getting for the reading. I hope this reading resonates. Again, I am so sorry if I made things worse or didn’t help! Please remember to check in with yourself — take care :)

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absolutekillswitch · 1 year ago

Text

no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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destinationtrekk · 2 months ago

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vamp! wesker with vampire hunter reader and everytime reader tries killing him hes such a flirt..

reader trying to plunge a stake into him and he just shakes his head at them, discarding the little thing, commenting on how his favourite hunter should really know better.

“Oh dearheart, did you really think that would work?”

and everytime they fight, vamp! wesker is such a slut. This guy pins reader down and sneaks bites out of their neck, their neck littered with past scars and bite marks due to how frequent this bastard does it. Pressing his entire weight on you, the position itself leaving you red-faced and embarassed and honestly a little horny.

He can’t help himself though, yours in particular, your blood just tastes so divine to him. It’d be foolish to waste that by killing you, of course. Totally not because he feels anything for you, if he even can.

18+ mdni - suggestive, gn!reader

the very fist time you encountered vamp!wesker was horrifying. he's like dracula-level famous - a legend in the Arklay Mountains, a beast who eats children and locks up innocent villagers in his mansion to eat them later or turn them into his personal army.

you didn't believe any of this, of course. most vampires are cocky and frankly dumb, which is how you rose to "fame" as a talented hunter in the first place. you weren't even out hunting that night, actually just spending time alone in wilderness to clear your head. you were lucky to have brought your gear along - just in case, because now you're pinned to the ground beneath a massive figure.

you know it's a vamp immediately, the nauseating smell of blood is obvious, but you're surprised to feel warm where you're pinned in the dirt. whoever is above you is wearing a thick cloak, and you have a fleeting thought that this feels like being in bed with a lover- what the fuck?

your emotions are jumbled and rapidly cycling between fear and frustration and a bit of arousal (grappling beneath someone is sexy, you can't deny it) until the vamp pulls away just enough for you to see his striking eyes. this is Wesker. undeniably, this is Albert Wesker.

bright blue eyes covered with a sheen of some red glow make them almost purple when the moonlight isn't blinding you. he's chuckling as you struggle in his grip. you're not weak by any means, which tells you he's MUCH stronger than anything you've killed before. he's pinned your wrists together above your head and your thighs to the ground, his legs nestled neatly along your hips.

he's quite literally straddling you like a lover, laughing in your face and rubbing his nose under your jaw. he's sniffing like an eager puppy and scraping his teeth over the column of your throat - he's playing with his meal

despite all your best tricks, he only pulls away after taking a hefty chunk of skin off your left shoulder. he sits up and rises to his feet, smiling down at you while he licks his fangs clean.

"Wonderful to meet you, dear heart." His voice is just as captivating as his eyes. "You'll have to try a little harder next time, hm? I need my favorite meal to keep my on toes, after all."

you're left gaping after him while he strolls away without a care in the world. you should be chasing him, sprinting after him to stake his heart with everything you have - the one hunter who bested the Arklay Monster.

instead your jaw is dropped while you pant through the aching bite on your shoulder. as he disappears through the trees, all you can think of is to buy better hunting clothes next time.

#albert wesker #resident evil #trekk answers #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #albert wesker headcanons #headcanons #trekk'o'ween

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ravencincaide · 5 months ago

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Not everything is as it seems

Summary: You had every right to be angry- furious- at Chuuya, and no amount of apologies or tears was going to change that. In fact, you were considering breaking off your engagement that very second, packing your things, and leaving while putting put your relationship on hold- though just sleeping alone after months apart would do the trick. OR the time you find out that communication is both the greatest strength and weakness in your and Chuuya’s relationship.

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 30: Cuddling + an independent part two for ‘And The Truth is Out’ Warnings: Cursing, drinking, rash decisions, guilt, tears, hurt, comfort, FLUFF and a little bit of suggestive sweetness.

Enjoy~

You pressed three fingers to the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tightly. You were doing your absolute best to handle the onslaught of emotion which washed over you in steady, suffocating waves; anger, frustration, annoyance, humiliation and guilt, And with them came a pounding headache which all served as a brief preview of the hangover you were certain to experience the following morning.

“ So Chuuya, tell me once again how you did it for me or, well, what was it you said? ‘With me as the only thing on your mind’?“ you muttered, not opening your eyes or even turning to face him. If anything you dug your fingers even deeper into the bridge of your nose, your nails leaving small crescent markings on your skin.

You heard him groan; a tortured sound as if repeating what he just said was a punishment in and of itself. A kind of sadistic torture that was on par with Dazai’s methods. “ Please” he sighed, a heavy, tired, drained sound “ Once was enough- don’t you think?”

You growled in warning, a rather weak sound, but it was sufficient to have him tense beside you on the couch. Undoubtedly he was well aware of how angry, no, furious you were at him. Still, Chuuya hesitated. You could practically hear him chewing his lips to shreds as a pitiful distraction from your words. No, he chose silence over admitting his own fuck-up for a second time. A moment longer, then he reached for the almost finished fancy bottle of wine on the table.

The one he bought, the one you stole at the beginning of the night.

He shook it slightly, raised an eyebrow at how little was left, and then sighed. Clearly not in the position to school you for the barbaric way you consumed Chateau Lafite. No, Chuuya valued his life more than wine and his relationship with you over the temptation of bringing up your wine consumption. Even if he had been right in his assessment that you needed something significantly stronger than wine to deal with this day and the issues that kept pilling up in your lap like a morbid magician trick. No, Chuuya was a lot of things, but he was not stupid enough to add more fuel to the fire by repeating himself or offending your drink consumption.

Especially when you had heard him loud and clear the first time and were already walking the fine line between tipsy and wasted, or better yet, balancing the tightrope between someone he could actually reason with and.. Well,..his own definition of hell.

The silence dragged on for only a few moments before your anger finally reached a burning point; “ No, Chuuya, you’re going to explain to me exactly what you mean by the fact that you cancelled the restoration of my great-grandmother's wedding dress, forgot to pick it up. While also ordering another dress that, surprise, surprise, won’t be here in time for the wedding!” Your voice echoed around the apartment. Your hand dropped away from your eyes as you turned to face your fiance- now degraded to boyfriend- who once again wiped at his eyes.

“ I told you, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out like this- m’bad I thought the store called ya. But honestly, doll, that dress was ugly, and no way in hell am I letting m’girl walk down the aisle looking like a breaded condom!” Chuuya snapped back, tiredness and tipsy shifting his position from grovelling to something snappier as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes.

You gaped at him, a flash of hurt at his words, then a look of horror drew on your face as your drunken mind took his words literally and conjured up an image—a look which somewhat resembled the above-mentioned once-treasured-family-hairloom dress.

You sighed, then ran a hand through your hair. The disappointment that the dress was gone was still eating away at you. Accompanied by a sense of humiliation at the description of said dress that Chuuya so unkindly used, More importantly, however, there was anger, something between frustration and rage at the prospect that your so-called soon-to-be would rather hide and exchange dresses behind your back while on a mission away from home instead of coming up and talking to you. No, the anger in the pit of your stomach did not allow you to let him off the hook just yet.

The devil on your shoulder probed for you to break up with Chuuya then and there- if that was how he acted prior to marriage, only the devil knew the kind of manipulative bastard he could become once the ring (or noose) was tied around your finger. While the angel on your shoulder whispered he did it entirely out of care and love for you; Chuuya knew how much the dress meant to you, but he was also very aware that your already shaky reputation could be affected negatively by said dress. Not to mention how it would affect Chuuya’s image as an executive of Port Mafia if he let his soon-to-be become the butt of the underground society joke.

Perhaps you did not need to be too harsh on him; a week on the couch and a half-cold shoulder would probably be more than plenty to make sure he never again tried to mess with your clothes, body or choices. Although you’d never admit it, but being separated from him for a few months may have affected your decision in his favour.

If only slightly.

Admitted defeat, you turned to face him; “ And the tears? Surely you’re not such a pussy to cry about the dress now” you asked, your eyebrow raised as you finally looked at him, twisting and turning on the couch beside you, if not in pain, then in the very least huge discomfort. The sight of it tugged ever so slightly at your angry heart; not enough to cuddle and kiss him but sufficient to ask what the issue was.

“ ‘Course not, baby, it’s these godamned fucking cheap ass lenses that I can’t get out. Fuck” Chuuya moaned in pain as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes, somewhere between wanting to claw his eyes out together with the lenses and desperately trying to get the irritated tears to stop streaming down his cheeks.

You were not even going to ask why he wore ‘cheap ass lenses’. Sometimes you just did not want to know.

“ Come here”, you sighed and reached beside the couch towards the drawer. There you pulled out a hand sanitiser and squirted some foul-smelling liquid onto your hands before rubbing it in. “ Lay your head in my lap before I change my mind.”

Chuuya did not need to be told twice. He dropped sideways, his body weight sprawling mostly on the couch with his head landing right in the middle of your lap with heavy, almost painful duns, knocking off his hat in the process. You glanced at it only briefly, feeling the tiniest bit of pity for the way it landed on the floor before you turned your attention back down to Chuuya. He had removed his hands from his bright red eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

The sight was pitiful, but the still burning rod of anger in you left little pity or warmth in your tone—just frustration at how childish he could be. Like an oversized five-year-old, “ You know you did that to yourself, right?” you muttered as you leaned over him and raised your clean fingers towards his eye. He didn’t even flinch, though his sensitive eye twitched several times as you touched the bottom edge of the lens and slid it downward, pinching it ever so slightly off his eye. It popped out without much difficulty; “ Your eyes are damned sensitive to everything, and you thought it was a fantastic idea to pop some lenses in?”

“ Come on, babydoll, have mercy” he pleaded as you purposefully took a long moment to discard the first lens before reaching towards his second eye to repeat the process. Once done, Chuuya let out a groan of relief before he wiped the last of the wetness off his cheeks. His eyes were red, irritated and likely hurt a lot, but they were already better than before you took the lenses out for him.

Without another word; you motioned for him to sit up. Then you stood up and confidently walked towards the bin, discarding the lens. Instead of returning to the couch, you picked up your forgotten phone and reminisced wine from the couch table.

“ Sweetheart-”

“ No Chuuya, you get the couch. So just stay there and think about your behaviour!” you grumbled, then yelped as you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards until your ass once again made contact with the soft leather. A little maneuvering, some gravity manipulation and you were sandwiched between the back of the couch and Chuuya, his hot breath hitting your ear, his arms cuddling you closer to his chest.

“ Fair enough, Sweetheart, but you never said I had to sleep alone”, he purred, a smirk evident in his words as he began pressing kisses all over your skin. If apologies and explanations couldn’t pacify your anger, then maybe this will…

Author note: This fic was inspired by the following dress. So if I had to see it, so do you. No, but honestly, re-reading the comments on the independent part one of the fic made me want to write something that wasn’t cheating but also equally complicated. IDK if I succeeded but ehh I had fun. Hope you did too

Until next time

Raven

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#Raven Cincaide works #Raven Cincaide SFW #raven cincaide sweetober #sweetober #BSD x reader #Chuuya nakahara x reader #BSD fanfic #Chuuya x reader #Chuuya Nakahara x you #Chuuya nakahara x yn #Chuuya x you #Chuuya x yn #Boyfriend Chuuya #Domestic #chuuya bsd #Chuuya fluff #bsd fluff

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bansurii · 10 months ago

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Sukuna • Reader | HC | just an idea of how Sukuna would be as a boyfriend humane and inhumane | dead dove but please proceed…

____________________________________________

Inhumane {or OG Sukuna}

- to start, sukuna as his original self both before and after heightened cursed ability and fully realized self, is neither interested nor even cares about relationships. he would kill you without a second thought.

-but for the delulu’s like moi who don’t care for that fact… well, let’s proceed, shall we?

-if sukuna by some amazing miracle decided to waste his time on a puny human with a deeper pussy than mariana’s trench, then he probably wouldn’t care much for the type depending on some things like, do we all agree that he would prefer a stronger woman who doesn’t need to rely on him for reassurance or guidance for basic tasks? Sure. We can also agree he would not prefer a little girl in the form of a twenty-something and we can definitely rule out women that would make attempts to boss him around.

-uraume is the key here in my opinion. This one seems to know well how to work around sukuna and also how to think for him when he is too focused on playing or whatever else keeps him occupied. definitely would agree that sukuna would prefer a quiet yet strong and occasionally outspoken individual with a dark sense of humor.

-would even go so far as to say “dead b- jokes” probably would be of interest in the dark matter that is his mind

-being anything of value to Sukuna is not a walk in the park. It is not a harsh party with the ol’ toxic family or shitty friends who try to get you intoxicated and push you off a cliff, although you’re more likely to have better luck in those situations than calling Sukuna anything other than his name.

-back to it!

-Sukuna is not for the weak! Should he choose you to date him, it’s either bc he thinks you’re fun to torment or because he sees some sort of power in you that he’s all for testing out later in more ways than one

-should he date you or call you anything other than “brat” and “fool” and how much your existence is a waste of space, please know he will never not do that and expect it in the bedroom!

-maybe he’ll torture you, make you think he’s gonna go down on you but actually eats the 🐱 and then heals you slow but sure and does it again after a while

-maybe he will take you hunting and pretend you’re looking for a wild boar and while you are actually hunting, he’s got his bow arm trained on you and you better not look at him… he will shoot without hesitation

-oh and don’t forget to never run from him under any circumstances. he’s not always in the mood for hunting and honestly he gets bored so easily so if you run it won’t make it fun. he will kill you. And no amount of praying and sacrifices to great king will bring you back. count your blessings

-should he decide to actually lay with you, likelihood of you living to tell the story does depend on sukuna and his emotions. one minute he might want you facing him, the next you better have the deepest curve the finest bow in history and the future would be proud of. should he allow you to live beyond the sexy time he willingly allowed you to live through, don’t run and tell your friends or the nearest spirit that cannot speak and don’t even think about it. Just bow down as deep as you can until he leaves the room or goes to sleep. But you better stay that way until the morning if you truly want to live. he better not find you asleep in that position either…

-without all the sex, he actually would be a great boyfriend or husband as far as protection goes. Words alone will keep you out of harms way. However, idiots still exist and some have to test this theory that the king of curses is as massive and horrific as they say…

-so should a couple of thieves or dumb teens decide to test their luck with you, they better hope sukuna is out of the country. Or out of this world.

-sukuna may not value you the way a more humane individual would, but whatever is his remains his to do with what he likes. and he does not play well with others. And he hates! when those others play with his toys.

-no, those teens were never heard of again. Nothing left to bury. Nothing left to even show they ever existed. Let alone their ancestral homes or families. the nearest villages and places of origin never even knew they were living there.

-best believe if sukuna goes so far as to claim you, he will barely let you leave his shrine or whatever glorified hole he crawls out of. because what do you need to leave for? do you not have everything you need right here? does sukuna not provide for you what no one else could pay millions or even billions to provide for you? are you unsatisfied with his dedication to you? Are you unhappy? Why do you need to leave? The sharp nails at your throat are just for play… he actually is curious deep down. But you will never know.

-all in all, inhumane/OG kuna is… a tough one. irritable but patient… mostly. take your time working your way around this one. he certainly does not play fair. And why should? He is the king of curses after all. you’re gonna be fine. I hope.

Humane Sukuna / Kuna/ Yuji’s cold older brother/ the man we all have the hots for

-cold, distant, aloof, probably truly feels nothing… at least until he sees you. Yuji’s friend, or not. Somehow he sees you around and he’s interested whether you are a gloomy girl that sighs a lot or a smiley girl who’s never had a pinker aura! Or anyone in-between… either way you make him glitch.

-he never glitches. He is the matrix. Fuck you.

-this.

-him.

-you.

-yuji is frazzled (but when isn’t he?) and megumi is actually sobbing for you. And nobara literally never cries so count her sobbing in a far off corner while sukuna approaches you and tells you to meet him for lunch here at this time and if you’re not there… well you better be there.

-if you do not associate with the triplex, you can assure yourself that sukuna finds that even more attractive whether you have friends or not, you do not associate yourself with fools, boneheaded freaks, and the creepy blue eyes they call sensei even though he teaches them next to nothing and just shows off his eyes every five seconds

-did i mention this might not include sorcery?

-should it though, you probably are weak until proven strong because who is sukuna if not the master of knowledge and whisperers?

-either way, sukuna has you glued to him within weeks. And yea, that is a grace period because while he is patient, he cannot leave an opening and risk someone stealing his marked one and leave him the scraps. No. He will take it all.

-oh god you’re a virgin??? Please for your sake keep that to yourself until it super matters. He is a VK through and through. This man is in love with the untouched and the untouchable.

-should you tell him in the very beginning that you are, he will turn everything as sexual as possible when it calls for it just to fluster you and get off on your reactions whether you know the meaning or not

-should you tell him right before the time comes, less embarrassing here than before but he will tease you numb and then somehow bring all the sensation back ten fold and will edge you like crazy until he wants to taste what he’s been forcing you to save for him

-and even if you’re not a virgin, here’s to that pretty 🐱 turning into his pretty 🐱 and never to be had by another and even if it is had by another it will never forget him just as you would never forget him. maybe he’ll edge you and tease you but it’s different when it’s your first time.

-no worries. He does not discriminate against the have and have-not.

-should you decide to allow him to court you (not that you had a choice here anyway) he would actually take you out on cute dates. Never picnics. But cute dates and feed you with his long fingers that get in your mouth real deep…

-don’t worry, he won’t make it super embarrassing for you next time.

-sukuna is into shibari.

-expect to be tied up as his personal art piece, when he wants to get super “knotty” and maybe if he just wants to watch you “hang” around. perhaps he wants to feed you more than food when you’re dangling from the ceiling…

-should sukuna date you humanely, he will manipulate you here and there and have his mental and emotional intelligence overstand yours and use that his advantage and watch your pretty little bottom lip wobble as he forces you into mental submission to him

-he isn’t as humane as you assumed he would be? Oh honey! You’re just getting started.

-you thought Aizen was manipulative? You think Michael Jackson from Demon Slayer holds a candle to Sukuna?? Aw honey!

-he may not raise a hand to you but his words almost make you prefer it… however he rubs the wounds away with kisses and cuddles you to sleep only for you to wake up to a cold bed in the morning. Not all happy endings remain happy.

-should sukuna delight you with his time, expect it to be limited unless you have made it so far as to live together and do not expect it to be domesticated. he is distant and cold even if he has warmed up to you. he only provides less harsh words and more comfortable silence

-he is not mad. He is not bothered. He is not angry. He is not annoyed. He is okay. He just has nothing to say.

-but do not push him either.

-quick-tempered at times. but only if you ate his food or spilled something on his favorite pants or shoes. He barely wears shirts so it doesn’t matter.

-he does buy you nice things. Maybe a new car. A pretty necklace with a tracker in it just to be sure you are the getting yourself into trouble or trying to leave him.

-he is THE ORIGINAL Christian Grey. Please know shibari is not his limit on the knowledge of bdsm and the art of sex of any level. It is a deal breaker for him if you cannot meet him somewhere in the middle for bdsm. It is a part of his life. If he is not serious about you, he lets it go as easy as he lets you go. He doesn’t like to waste his time so why would he waste yours? Unless he is bored.

-uraume is his friend. Nothing more. Ignore.

-unless he wants uraume to watch you squirm as he plows through you in those sexy red ropes that match the red in his eyes and the pretty lines that adorn your chest, breast, thighs and shoulders and the bite marks he left all over your pretty body.

-if you want, uraume can join though…

-sukuna would be similar here to inhumane sukuna when it comes to protectiveness and only if you are to get past certain milestones with him. he would disappear someone just for looking at you wrong. Maybe not that extreme but if it calls for it, don’t expect news about them in the coning days. Not a magazine editorial could publish anything about them. They simply no longer exist. The government cannot even say who that person was. Sukuna knows what he is doing. Trust him.

-you will never meet his family unless you consider Yuji his brother. Yuji will love you either way but doubt your relationship every second of the way. Still supportive though. Sukuna seems happy which is startling to him but you don’t look like you’re searching for the door… however. if you are… BLINK TWICE!

-overall, sukuna isn’t that much different than OG Sukuna but he has his key differences and things he would prefer that are more humane. Survival rate here: depends on how smart you are. Or dumb. Average: 47%

#jjk sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna thirst #og sukuna #OG #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #jujutsu ryomen #have not done headcanons in so long guys i hope this was not horrible #bite me if it was ;)

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gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

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*~*

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