#i’m so irritated with this production team

[lurkingshan]

WELP. They are 100% doing it. They’re going to end the show on dramatic conflict with their first real kiss being synonymous with them getting caught and separated, and then we wait to see if they even get a season 2 and if so, how long we have to wait for it.

[liliesof-the-valley]

Thinking about you borrowing their clothes>>>

This has literally only been read over twice so I’m so sorry about any mistakes in grammar or punctuation!! I was feeling kind of sleepy when I wrote this so…

─── ୨ৎ────

Imagine stealing lucifers big coat and wearing it around the Devildom like a blanket, maybe wearing his gloves when you want to feel him holding your hand and he isn’t there. His clothes are like a piece of security, like a guardian angel. Perhaps in this a guardian-devil.

Stealing mammons glasses and his jacket, whenever he sees you wearing them he goes a scarlet red that roses would even envy. That and he will boast nonstop about how you’re wearing his clothes ‘of course ya would ,I’m the great mammon after all!’

Appearing infront of Levi with his specially designed anime hoodies and Ruri -chan sweatshirts that you had borrowed. This serene proceeded him to display the definition of red on his face. He’s actually elated you chose him out of anyone else, he doesn’t feel like a crappy otaku (for now)

Sneaking into satans room and draping his coat over yourself when you’re cold, he was irritated when his jacket went missing but seeing you in it calmed the raging storm and brought tranquility in his mind. He cannot stay angry at you, it seems. You ended up reading together.

Asmo and you practically share clothes with how much is borrowed and taken. He’s so generous,too. You practically both have half your wardrobes full of each others clothes. Additionally, you even go dhoooing together He loves seeing you in his clothes, it filled him with such a fuzzy feeling in his heart.

Wearing beel’s fangol jerseys when you want to support his team or just in general. He sees you wearing them in a game? He somehow starts playing with rapid speed and extra swiftness. He sees you wearing them around the house? At dinner, You have a little extra on the portion on your food (he made sure to hold back for you while eating)

Wearing any of belphies nightclothes allow him to have better dreams. Seeing you clothed in what he’s worn just soothes him, he does end up dreaming about you in his dream and proceeds to recount it tp you in the morning via a text. Though if he’s feeling particularly productive (which is rare) he’ll recount it on the way to school if he ends up walking with you.

[tsukuhoe]

07. when they act this way i know, i got em

walking into a production studio, you’re greeted by a cavernous room with high ceilings and the chatter of a bustling camera n’ film crew. a blonde man in a tailored suit stood in the middle of the set, sitting in front of the camera with softboxes and a photographer. you weren’t even sure when you started staring. it wasn’t deliberate— more like your gaze had wandered, found something beautiful, and refused to move. the man made a perfect model. his sharp, symmetrical features radiate an aura of discipline and grace. his intense, almond-shaped eyes, framed by faintly tired shadows, carry a quiet depth. his tall, lean build, that embodies the perfect silhouette for high-fashion modelling. 

then it hit you. this was the well-known model: kento nanami. other than the fact that you’ve seen him in magazines and on your twitter timeline, his name sounded so familiar.  

nanami lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. you froze, stomach doing an ungraceful flip. you should’ve looked away. but somehow, you couldn’t. his expression softened, lips parting in a silent question. before he could say anything, a loud holler interrupted the moment. 

“what do you mean, another team is here?! this is studio b, our studio, booked for the entire day!” utahime exclaimed in frustration. 

“funny, because our confirmation says studio b, same day, same time. maybe check with your admin before accusing us.” a man in suit scoffed, clearly annoyed at her. 

“i don’t need to check. i triple-checked with the office last week.” 

“well, unless you have a magic booking system, we’re not leaving. we’re shooting for GQ korea.” tension builds as the respective crews begin to notice the conflict. cameras stopped stuttering, crews stopped chattering. you cautiously walked to where the utahime was and stood beside her. 

“hime, what’s wrong?” you timidly asked, not wanting to provoke your friend any more than she already is. “what’s wrong is that the studio that we booked is being used by the modelling agency of our stupid management!” she snapped, then turning back to the man. “look, i don’t know who you are, but we have a full day’s shoot planned. our shoot can’t wait, so you can take that nasty attitude of yours and—” 

“whoa, whoa, woah! utahime! what’s going on here?” gojo’s voice boomed behind you. “gojo. i do not need you here right now. go meet with toji and the rest of the cast. y/n, please go with him.” utahime gritted teeth at him. she was frustrated and did not need anyone, especially gojo, to interfere with the messy situation. 

“sorry about what’s happening, sweets. i know this is your first time on set for a film…” the white-haired man sighed, leading you to the others. “normally this doesn’t happen on set. i swear, it’s a lot less stressful than this.” 

“it’s fine! utahime seems really upset right now, so i’m more worried about her than the current situation…” 

in front of you sat a tall, lean, and muscular man with a noticeable scar running down the corner of his mouth. toji fushiguro. an actor known for playing in multiple films such as the scream series, breaking bad, resident evil, the john wick series, and many more projects. “whatcha lookin’ at? like what ya see?” he smirked, face smug. 

you pursed your lips, trying your best to smile and appear friendly. heavy tension hung in the air as you opened your mouth to say something. 

“toji.” gojo’s tone dropped, giving him a bitter smile all while trying to mask an irritated glare.

“it’s nice to meet you! i feel honoured being able to work with you for my first—” “mhm.” oh. so it’s going to be like that? toji’s attitude irked you. his cocky attitude and superiority complex. however, you’ll be working with him on set. as much as you wanted to be petty, purposely causing friction with your colleague wouldn’t do any good. be overly kind for no stupid reason. that’ll annoy him, right? as long as it doesn’t seem obvious that you’re trying to vex him, it wouldn’t be bad for your image. operation piss toji fushiguro off is a go.

while gojo and toji were conversing, you looked back to the set. nanami was on his break, sipping a cup of iced water, and having his make up touched up. his gaze was soft, almost searching, but there was a warmth in it— an unspoken curiosity. he smiled, just a little, the kind of smile that makes you feel like you've known someone for much longer than you have. then suddenly you saw him talk with the make up artist, get up from his seat and start walking. towards you. you. 

“excuse me,” he said, his voice calm, but with a hint of amusement. “you’re y/n, yes? y/n l/n?” you nodded, offering a warm smile. “mhm! and you’re kento nanami, right? i’ve seen you on covers and in posts from shoko n’ hime!” he nodded back, returning a gentle smile. however, inside, he was confused. did you not remember him?

“you personally know shoko and utahime?” 

“yes!! i love them with my whole heart! we talk often— with yuki tsukumo! you’ve worked with her, right? for a vogue shooting—” 

“everyone, we finally have things figured out. there was a double booking according to the front desk.” utahime’s voice boomed. “we’ll be filming and taking our promotion poster photos after GQ korea’s sets are done. for now, please practice your lines for the trailer. we are not leaving today until the trailer has been all completely filmed!” 

after the announcement, there was a brief moment of silence between you and nanami, until you broke it. “so… nanami, would you like to give me some tips with posing? since you’re a professional, ya know?” you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. 

do you really not remember him?

album bonus tracks: — toji has a reputation to be a pain to work with bts, but his output is really good! — soooo how are we feeling about nanami ^.^ — ive been dying to release this and the next chapter omg! — might update it later 2night

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[diamonddaze01]

business 101

pairing: csc x f!reader | wc: 1.3k genre/au: rival ceos, fluff, humor | warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: prequel to the contractual obligations universe // based on an ask for my 101 drabble prompt game!

The lecture hall buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter. The faint hum of laptops, the rustle of notebooks, and the occasional murmur of stress about looming midterms filled the air. You sank into your chair, flipping open your laptop to the blank document titled Business 101 Project.

“Group assignments will be randomized,” the professor announced from the podium, his voice loud enough to silence most of the murmuring. “Your task: create a comprehensive business plan for a hypothetical company. It’s due at the end of the semester. Creativity is welcome, but analysis and execution will determine your grade. Teams will be four people each, and I expect professionalism.”

When the names appeared on the screen, your heart sank.

Group 8: Choi Seungcheol, Jeonghan Yoon, Joshua Hong, Y/N L/N

You glanced around, spotting Jeonghan waving lazily at you with an amused smirk, while Joshua offered a polite nod. Then your eyes landed on Seungcheol. His lips quirked into a lopsided grin, the kind that spoke volumes—mostly about how annoying he planned to be.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Jeonghan, who had slid into the seat next to you. Jeonghan and Joshua—reliable, at least. But Choi Seungcheol? He caught your gaze and offered a cocky smirk.

Fantastic.

By the end of the first meeting, it was clear how things were going to go.

“We need a solid foundation,” Joshua said, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the table. “Let’s start with a service idea and build from there.”

“Something scalable,” you agreed. “Like a subscription model—low entry cost, high potential for growth.”

“That’s boring,” Seungcheol cut in, his voice casual but gratingly dismissive. “Why not focus on a bold product launch? Something with impact.”

“Impact doesn’t pay the bills,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “We need a strategy that’s actually sustainable.”

“Sustainable,” he repeated, leaning back and folding his arms. “Sure. Let’s just settle for mediocre so we don’t have to take any risks.”

“And crash and burn if it flops?” you shot back, unable to hide your irritation. “That’s reckless.”

Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. “No risk, no reward.”

“No risk, no grade either,” you retorted, your voice sharper than intended.

Jeonghan cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “I see this is going to be... fun.” He exchanged a glance with Joshua, who already looked like he regretted his life choices.

By the third meeting, the rivalry had reached critical mass. 

“Who made you the CEO of this group?” Seungcheol snapped after you vetoed one of his flashier ideas.

“I’m not the CEO,” you retorted, jabbing a finger at the project outline. “I’m just the one who doesn’t want us to fail.”

“Fail?” he repeated with a mock laugh. “Right, because your ideas are so revolutionary. Let’s hear it for our subscription box for socks or whatever you’re pitching.”

You glared. “Socks sell.”

“Not as much as actual creativity,” he shot back.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “I’m this close to quitting college,” he muttered to Joshua, who nodded solemnly.

 This was now less a project, and more a battlefield. You and Seungcheol clashed over every detail—budget projections, marketing angles, even the font choices for the presentation slides. Jeonghan coined the term “Wednesday Night War” after one particularly heated Zoom meeting, where the two of you had yelled over each other for a full ten minutes before Joshua muted you both.

Despite the arguments—or maybe because of them—the project came together. By some miracle, your calculated planning and Seungcheol’s riskier ideas balanced each other out. When the group received an A, Joshua and Jeonghan looked ready to celebrate.

You and Seungcheol, however, couldn’t even agree on that.

“I carried this project,” he said, smirking at you as the grades were handed back.

“Excuse me?” you said, turning to him. “If you carried it, then I was the one steering so you didn’t walk us off a cliff.”

“You’re welcome for my bold ideas,” he replied.

“And you’re welcome for my common sense,” you shot back, storming out of the classroom before you could strangle him.

A celebration was inevitable. After weeks of late nights and endless bickering, Jeonghan declared a house party to blow off steam. You weren’t in the mood for it, but Joshua’s pleading eyes and the promise of free drinks eventually won you over. The house was packed, the bass from the speakers thrumming through your chest. You spotted Jeonghan and Joshua near the makeshift bar, both nursing drinks and chatting with friends. 

Jeonghan greeted you with a sly grin. “And here I thought you were too good for us,” he teased, handing you a drink.

“I’m here for Joshua,” you replied, taking a sip. “Not you or him.”

“You mean Seungcheol?” Jeonghan asked innocently, his grin widening when you glared at him.

Across the room, Seungcheol leaned against the counter, laughing at something someone had said. His dark shirt clung to his shoulders in a way that annoyed you—it was unfair how effortlessly attractive he looked, especially when you could practically feel him waiting to pick another fight.

When his eyes met yours, he smirked.

You should’ve walked away, but instead, you marched straight up to him.

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Stalking?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re in my space.”

“Your space?” you scoffed. “Pretty sure this is Jeonghan’s house.”

“Semantics.”

The two of you fell into your usual rhythm of bickering, the tension between you thick enough to draw the attention of Jeonghan and Joshua.

“They’re at it again,” Joshua remarked, taking a sip of his drink.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “Why don’t they just kiss already?”

Joshua smirked, nodding toward where you and Seungcheol stood toe-to-toe. “Wait for it.”

Back near the bar, the argument had reached new heights.

“You think you’re so much better because you play it safe?” Seungcheol taunted, his voice low but heated.

“And you think being reckless makes you a visionary?” you fired back, stepping closer. 

“You wouldn’t know a bold move if it slapped you in the face,” he shot back, his tone biting.

“Do you ever shut up?” you snapped, stepping closer.

“Do you?” he fired back, his smirk daring you to do something about it.

The crowd around you began to thin as people sensed the escalating tension. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you crackling.

Then he grabbed your wrist.

“We’re settling this,” he growled, his voice quiet enough that only you could hear.

“Excuse me?” you sputtered, but he was already pulling you through the crowd, his grip firm but not rough.

From across the room, Jeonghan raised his glass to Joshua with a knowing smile. “Told you.”

“Bet you a round they don’t come back for hours,” Joshua added, and Jeonghan laughed, clinking his glass.

Seungcheol dragged you into an empty room, the noise of the party muffled by the closed door. He let go of your wrist, turning to face you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“You can’t just—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped closer.

“Can’t just what?” he challenged, his voice quieter now but no less intense.

Your breath hitched as the tension that had simmered for weeks finally reached its boiling point. “What do you want from me, Seungcheol?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. It wasn’t gentle or tentative—it was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.

You froze for half a second before kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as the weeks of frustration and tension melted away into something electric.

The rest of the world disappeared. All that existed was the way his hands gripped your waist, the press of his body against yours, the taste of beer on his lips.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” you whispered, your voice shaky but defiant.

Seungcheol smirked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

[fireblossomdoll]

Ups and Downs

Synopsis: You're pregnant and having mood swings today, but Madara makes you a snack

Content: Uchiha Madara x Reader, f!reader, pregnant!reader, pregnancy!!, fluff, crack, mood swings

Word count: 987

A/N: A request from anon <3 (here are hcs about Madara and pregnant!reader)

You were already in the third trimester of your pregnancy. You couldn’t wait for your baby to come. You had picked and decorated a room with Madara, both of you really wanted this child. 

You decided to go to the market today to buy a little charm you had heard of. You had seen some children wrapping these cute pendants on their kunai, so you wanted one for your baby. The streets weren’t very crowded today, making for the perfect day out.

When you got to the store, you couldn’t find the charms. You had asked a few kids where they had gotten theirs and all of them led you here. Yet, as you searched the shelves, you couldn’t find the damn thing. Even worse, there was no staff in sight. You marched further into the store, looking for someone who could help you, and you started to think this trash place was empty.

“Hello?” You asked, annoyingly to no response.

“Hellooo??!!” You asked again, raising your voice so that the store’s useless employee could hear you.

An ugly, greasy looking guy appeared from behind one of the shelves.

“Hello, ma’am! How may I help you?” He said with his ugly smile. He sounded so nice it made you frown immediately.

“Finally! Where are you people hiding the cute charms I’ve seen around?”

“Uh, our kunai decor?”

“Are you dense? Yes, the kunai charms.” You were getting increasingly irritated by this.

“We’re unfortunately out of stock of this item.” He said, still with that hideous smile.

“The hell you mean, out of stock?! I’ve seen it everywhere!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It is indeed one of our most popular products, and because of that, it’s currently sold out.”

“Argh!”

You were exasperated and left the store in a bad mood. You just wanted to do a nice thing for your baby, but everyone seemed to be against you today.

As you walked back home, more people started to come to the streets. Of course, you couldn’t even have this one thing.

In front of your house, you saw your roses blooming. They were so pretty! You remembered how Madara helped you find the seeds, plant them and take care of them. Even if he didn't really want to garden, he still helped you grow these beautiful roses. 

Madara had taken such good care of you during this pregnancy. You loved him so much, you couldn’t have asked for a better husband. He always made sure to not let you use too much effort, and he smelled so nice.

He would let you play with his hair while he cooked you breakfast, lunch and dinner. His hair was so soft and long, you loved fiddling with it. Oh yeah, sometimes it would smell like roses if you two worked with them for too long. And he would cook for you. Such delicious food, but maybe not what you wanted right now. You wanted something lighter and sour, like a green apple. But also very sweet, like honey.

As you wandered through the living room, you heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the house. You went towards Madara's office and put you ear on the shoji to listen to what he was saying.

“–find the scrolls? –”

“ –working on it. The team hasn't–”

You couldn’t hear it properly, but what they were talking about didn't matter. You knocked and waited. Nothing happened so you knocked again, with a little more force.

“Hmm? Come in.” You heard Madara's deep voice come through.

You opened the shoji, seeing Madara and Hikaku with some scrolls laying on the table. Both looked back at you, as you stayed halfway hidden by the shoji, not really entering the room.

“Madara,” You dragged his name a bit.

“Yes?” He gave a little cute smile.

You looked down and around the round before continuing, “I wanted something to eat,” He arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but you kept going, “Some apples dipped in honey would be very nice, you know?”

“Right now, dear? I'm in the middle of something,”

“Please? Cut apples with honey sounds so good, though,” You insisted.

He sighted and stood up.

Did you bother him too much? Maybe he was tired of working and trying to get done was fast as possible, and you made him late. Or maybe he was very concentrated and you interrupted all his thoughts by coming here. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, my love, I'm not bothered at all, just getting up,” Madara looked in your eyes, “This wasn't so important, Hikaku can deal with it by himself.”

“So it was important matters that I–”

“Not at all, let's get going,” He interrupted you and pointed towards the hallway, “Shall we?”

You followed him to the kitchen, where he picked a couple of green apples from a basket.

“You should sit down,” He told you as he grabbed a knife.

You sat down by the table and kept looking at Madara as he prepared your snack. He looked so good today, it made you smile.

When he finished cutting the apples, he poured honey into a small bowl. You were very happy with how things were looking. The honey and the apples looked delicious, you couldn't wait for Madara to bring them to you.

“Now, now, here's whatever this is supposed to be.”

Madara placed two bowls in front of you, the sliced apples and the honey. 

“Yay! Thank you!” You said as you reached out to grab one apple slice.

He walked to your side and bowed his upper body until he was slightly above your head. “No problem. Try not to make a mess with the honey, okay?” He told you before kissing your temple.

“Sure,” You said with your mouth full of apple and honey. “It's so sweet!”

“Well, it is honey,” He giggled, leaving you in the kitchen.

[xenteaart]

contemplating mediocrity

pairing: idol!chan x reader (gn but written with f!reader in mind) word count: 0,9k genre/warnings: er, hurt to comfort, use of "baby", self-doubt, honestly not much else, pretty pg-13 author's note: heavily inspired by @withleeknow 's last seungmin fic, i couldn't handle the angst and needed to comfort myself fkdjfkdjfk. also it kinda made me reflect on why it hurt so bad so i guess this fic is a little support and comfort thingy for everyone who might not be feeling "enough". before reading you might wanna check out the inspo fic itself <3

“baby? what’s wrong?” 

ah, he’s always too quick to notice. 

you take your eyes off the laptop and put a video of 3racha’s festival performance on pause.

“nothing. you guys did a wonderful job, truly. ’m just… contemplating my mediocrity.”

“what?” he’s more just taken aback than anything else but you read it as irritation.

it’s one of those days when everything feels extra sensitive, even the things you can deal with well on a regular day.

“what? chris, baby, i’m not being self-deprecating, it’s just a fact. i truly could not be more proud of you, but sometimes i just can’t shake off the feeling of not doing enough compared to you. 

it warms my heart to know that you are so so loved and respected, it really does. but, i guess.. it’s a little humbling too? i haven’t achieved anything nearly as grand and i don’t have thousands of people cheering for me after i do as much as breathe. which you totally deserve, by the way, i’m not saying you don’t.”

long silence follows as chris frowns, carefully crafting his next response while you’re already starting to regret you opened your mouth at all. maybe, some things should be kept to yourself. maybe, it’s not really necessary to share every dark thought that comes to your pained mind after midnight. maybe, it’s safer for your relationship to just move those conversations to a cozy zoom meeting with your therapi—

“that’s a skewed perception of our dynamic though, baby.” 

oh, shit. he has the look. you know this one too well, and it says “i’m not letting this slide and we’re talking this through”. 

“how so?” you feel tired and discouraged already, mostly annoyed at yourself for making your boyfriend come up with some nonsense points to make you feel better now. 

“don’t put me on a pedestal. firstly, i think you’re forgetting how many people there actually are behind what we’re doing. daily. i’m talking all the staff and production teams, makeup, hair, clothes, art direction, schedule management. everything. there is literally a whole division for us that makes us look the way we look and helps us do what we love.”

you stay quiet, blinking slowly and pursing your lips together. 

“which isn’t to say we don’t work hard or that we haven’t achieved anything, but it wouldn’t have been possible without all that help. 

secondly, in my daily life i’m just a guy, baby. literally just a guy who loves music. nothing fancy,” chan gives you one of those wide soft smiles, and you hear your heart break a little. 

“yeah, well, not every guy who loves music has the amount of awards and recognition you do, baby.”

“okay, where is this truly going?”

there it goes.

“sometimes i worry i just can’t match it? that you’ll get bored of me because i’m not over the top extraordinary or... whatever.”

you feel stupid. 

“so you think i’m with you for your so-called achievements?”

you can’t come up with a response, so he continues, gently hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. his favorite way of making you feel loved. 

“i’m with you because you’re my sense of normalcy, baby. you calm my mind when it’s racing too fast. you’re my safe little harbour where i can find peace after hectic schedules and loud noises and crowds. you ease the weight i carry on my shoulders every day.” 

you stay silent, focusing on the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek. the tip of his nose is touching your skin lightly.

“you love the regular channie. you kiss my puffy swollen face in the mornings, and those kisses make me wonder if i’m actually not that bad without all the makeup on after all. you laugh at my jokes and cuddle me when i get needy. you listen to my darkest nastiest thoughts and never judge me for feeling whatever it is i’m feeling. 

what i’m getting at is that... i can just be me around you, you know? that’s why i’m still here. and i feel so proud to have a partner with a big warm heart and a strong mind, honored to be cared for by someone so neat and beautiful in the most mundane things.

do you really think i’d measure my love and respect for you by something like fame or... some noble achievements?”

“i don’t know,” you sound even more confused than at the beginning of this suddenly serious conversation, caught off guard by chan’s words, but mostly — his tenderness towards you. his patience and the way he's willing to spell it out for you if you're feeling too low to see the whole picture yourself.

"well, then i’m telling you. that is just not the case. you’re already everything i could ask for, baby. someone passionate, honest, reliable, loving and kind. someone who holds my hands through the hard days and makes me laugh on the good days. simple as that."

the pressure on your chest is slowly fading as chan's words finally sinking in, finding their ways into your system and rendering as the truth. the ache isn't completely gone but you know it will be in the morning, when the sunrise washes the rest of your worries away.

for now, you turn around in chris's embrace and hide your nose in the crook of his neck, simply breathing and enjoying the lingering scent of his soap. skin to skin.

[yuzurins]

# to tell you the truth

12 — meeting, number three?

smau masterlist ∗ previous chapter ∗ next chapter

“chigiri, you’re late.” 

you tap your foot impatiently as the person in question (who also happens to be project leader) quickly runs up to you. 

he splutters out a quick apology as he catches his breath. “i’m really sorry! my class was held back longer than i expected.” 

sighing, you uncross your arms and go over to help hold the project stuff he was carrying. 

chigiri looks at you with pleading eyes. “please don’t be mad.”

“it’s fine, just tell me–” you quickly glance over to the person standing beside you. “i mean us, ahead of time if you’re going to run late.”

he grins and does a quick bow. “yeah, sorry!”

“let’s go.”  you nod back, before turning and walking in the direction of the campus library, leaving the other two behind. 

chigiri gives a look to rin, as if to question him “what happened?”, but much to his disappointment, rin returns the same look back.

“so?” the redhead starts.

“nothing happened.” rin rolls his eyes. “she came here, glared at me, and then we just waited for you.”

“you waited in silence for 15 minutes??”

“yes.” rin replies, but he doesn’t make eye contact. chigiri notices this but lets it off when he notices you leaving the building. 

“suspicious.” he raises a brow. “but let’s go before we get left behind!” 

rin picks up one of the bags that chigiri had brought and motions for him to go first. 

“how chivalrous of you.” 

“shut up.”

though the tension was high at first, it became less awkward faster than anyone had originally expected it to be. as top students, work ethic had a bigger influence than past grudges, and you weren’t going to let all your previous hard work go to waste. before you knew it, you actually forgot you were working with the itoshi rin, the one guy who can ruin your mood in a split second. 

but you can’t lie, seeing rin’s talent for art made you feel envious; he really was good at everything (though you would never admit that).

“you know, i think we actually make a pretty good team.”

you blink. “what?” 

“i mean, look at how productive we’ve been!” lightheartedly, chigiri laughs, without any fear of the potential hole he’s about to dig himself into by starting this conversation. “it looks like we might actually finish this today.”

seeing as how relaxed the he was, you reluctantly put a smile on and decide to humour him. “yeah, we should totally do this again.” 

“what-“ rin almost chokes on his water in response to your (meaningless) joke, which surprises you as you expected only a scoff from the boy. however, it seems like hes the dense one here, because he for one can not tell when the slightest tone of sarcasm is being used.

on the other hand, someone does take advantage of your sarcasm. “oh? i’ll take you up on that!”

you glare at the red haired boy, but to no avail are you able to get him to evoke his proposal. “i thought you said we might be able to finish this today…?”  

chigiri raises his brows and smiles. “we still have to decorate!”

he’s really pushing it.

a sigh barely escapes your lips before he follows up in attempt to ease your growing irritation. you couldn’t help it, after all, chigiri’s making an obvious attempt to get you to spend more time with rin. 

“well i mean, it’s early anyways. i think we can get this over with today.” though just barely noticeable, you notice him starting to sulk, and you just slightly begin to feel bad for him.

“whatever.” you close your eyes. “can’t say i’m opposed.” 

chigiri’s face starts to light up, and he jumps out of his seat, a bit too eagerly. “really!?”

he’s excited, you’re not too sure why, but that all ends as you tell him, sternly, “except since you said so, we aren’t leaving until we do finish.”

dejected, he slowly falls back into his seat. “everything?”

“everything.”

a light chuckle comes out of the boy sitting across chigiri. you nearly miss it, but it’s too memorable for you to not notice; as if your ears are accustomed to this sound from hearing it more often than you’d like to remember.

your eyes shoot towards the direction of the laugh, and rin freezes from all the sudden attention. he realizes quickly that your gaze is pressing for an answer, but in all honesty, he himself doesn’t even know how to respond. 

“what?” he splutters. “there was something in my throat.”

you squint your eyes at him, unconvinced. “just so you know, ‘desperate for grades’ me and ‘regular’ me are not the same.” 

“am i supposed to feel threatened by that?” he questions, amusement growing in his tone.

“yes.” you reply immediately. “in case, you know, you think i actually tolerate you now or something.” 

“i’m not delusional.”

you raise a brow. “you sure about that?”

there’s a pause before another word is spoken. you notice the slight shift in his demeanour as you watch rin process your words, hastily open his mouth after. but instead of uttering a rude remark, he closes his mouth and looks away, clenching his fist. 

confused, you look towards chigiri, but he’s as clueless as you are.

the productive atmosphere soils, and the awkward tension that inevitably trails you and rin around returns once more. 

it’s only the sounds of typing, writing, and your wondering thoughts that fill the study room.

why was he getting offended after a joke that he started himself? was it something you said? was it how you looked at him? did he get self conscious because it’s true? or offended because you were extremely off? you wouldn’t know. 

you don’t understand rin at all, and after hearing such from not just rin, but reo as well, you’re well aware that that’s a fact. 

“so,” chigiri speaks up after what feels like a millennia. “how much research do we have left? can we start decorating the display?” 

“i’m practically done, did you bring the stuff?” 

he nods, walking over to take all the arts supplies out of the giant bag he brought. 

“rin, how about you, are you ready?” chigiri asks, but all he gets back in response is an irritated glare. 

a frown adorns your face as you pity chigiri for having to deal with rin’s childish attitude due to your rivalry with the latter. it made you feel responsible for brightening up the atmosphere, even if it wasn’t your problem at all that rin couldn’t handle a joke. “it’s fine, we can start without him.”

but the response you had believed to be the most harmless one (which was avoiding the problem), turned out to be the worst one yet. 

rin slams the papers he was holding down onto the table beside his laptop. he lets out a deep sigh and turns to look at the two of you. “no. i’m not.”

“‘kay,” chigiri starts, before slowly sitting down and flashing you a quick glance of alarm. “i’ll look over everything again, just let us know when you’re done.”

this won’t do. 

you absolutely hated the fact that rin was being a selfish prick right now, but despite your opposition, it would be too much for chigiri to handle this guy alone. which is how you came to the conclusion that it was time to bring out the fabricated extroverted version of yourself deliberately prepared to deal with awkward situations with strangers. you just had to mentally prepare to delude yourself by erasing every single interaction you had shared with rin, and all the feelings of resentment you held towards him. easy… right?

it was going to be a long, long, day.

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE SHITTY CHAPTER T_T i just wnated to lyk that y/n is an extremely unreliable narrator and that everything written in their perspective is only what they deduce from the environment around them!!!!!! please enjoy and i will be definitely doing better with the smau posts instead of written chapters lMFOA

pairing ∗ itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis — all you wanted was a peaceful and productive uni life, but despite your pleas, your plans start crumbling when the star of the football team, itoshi rin, begins to beat you in every aspect possible. as you confront the inevitable, what happens when you uncover secrets behind an unforgettable event from the past?

taglist 1/2 ∗ send an ask / comment to be added or removed

@kitorin @rinsque @jleijl @rintosei @strawberrypockybox @beanxiv @ode2rin @h4nman @hanmastattoos @kaitfae @idk-bro-gay @piichuu @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @invictax @chaosinanutshell @exatse @kirameki-kumo @xoxojisu @mellozhi @certaindreampost @limerence-lu @nutsinspector @kawaii-angelanne @rroxii @saesins @anngelllla @anurst @y-sabell-a @hellothere9597 @evilenchantresss @msameikanevaeh @saesofficialwife @reiners-milkbiddies @f1yh1gh @celioderso @amenial @wooasecret @kascar-chronicle @izonoi @biaonww @blissblossom @sereniteav @1lovestrawberrymilk @hearts4itoshi @yeojeolmi @arxliana @janbannan @leeyzhuo @kiritokunuwu @geombyu @jiaspoon @yunxbin @p3achiee (if your name is in bold it means i can't tag you)

[couldawouldashoulda50]

What if Loren arrived with this kind of beautiful fairy like baby doll lingerie situation. She looks like an ethereal being.

https://www.wonder18.com/en-qa/products/kaia-white-cami

They just have a night filled with love making. They probably reached their peak at least 3 times.

Maybe it’s provoked by the fact that William is not feeling his best. He also has been on a road trip and needs some Loren time. He realizes how deeply infatuated he’s with her. He’s also reminded of how great she is with kids and can’t help but think of putting a baby in her. There’s just a lot of emotions going on. It’s sensual yet filled with pure emotion.

Oh my gosh, Nonnie. What you sparked in my brain. I don't know whether to apologize or what - after I wrote nearly 6k words based off this idea of yours. It tied into another smaller idea I had so I just went with it. Thank you to you and the other anons that reach out with ideas and comments. For anyone that has sent me something (there's a couple in my Inbox), please know - I am not ignoring you. Each one means so much that I do tend to think on it for awhile to visualize all the different possibilities based on the ask.

So here's my triple-length blurb, Nonnie....I hope you like it. Warnings - 18+ below the cut. Smut (p in v, fingering, slight praise), profanity.

One Woman, A Thousand Ways - Lingerie

Word count - approx 5.9k

William stared out the window of the team bus as it traveled along the quiet streets of Raleigh. The somber atmosphere mirrored his mood, the team still reeling from their crushing loss to Carolina. He absently swiped his thumb across his phone screen, debating for the hundredth time whether or not to message her.

It wasn’t just the loss gnawing at him—it was everything. His performance hadn’t been optimal, his attitude on the ice often appeared disinterested, and he knew it - he could feel it. But it wasn’t just hockey weighing him down. He hadn’t seen Loren in over a week, not since she left his condo in the days before this road trip. And it hadn’t been the kind of goodbye they were accustomed to.

Things had been off with William here and there - whether it was the hangover from the holidays or just not feeling like himself, his game had been struggling. His mood had darkened, snappier than usual, leaving him isolated at times, even from Loren. Always trying to be intuitive, she had tread lightly during that time, careful not to hover or push him when he was clearly on edge. She had made herself available when he wanted her there, never once complaining about his cold moods.

Looking back, he grimaced at the thought of how he’d taken her patience for granted.

The memory of their last exchange resurfaced as he rubbed his weary eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. Loren had been calm, collected even, as she always was, but he’d been too wrapped up in his frustrations to appreciate how much effort she put into keeping things harmonious. He hadn’t meant to snap at her; she was just in the line of fire. He’d been irritable and short all night, muttering under his breath about something he’d seen online - there was discourse already about his “slump”.

When Loren, in her usual gentle way, tried to soothe him, he’d lashed out. "You just don’t get it, Loren," he’d snapped, his voice sharp enough to make her flinch. "You can’t begin to understand what it’s like to deal with this kind of fucking pressure."

He’d known it was a mistake the second the words left his mouth. Loren’s expression didn’t waver, but the way she looked at him—remaining steady, her cheeks suddenly flushed—made him feel so small. Her reply was measured, delivered in a tone so even it made his stomach twist.

"You’re absolutely right, William," she said. "I wouldn’t know that kind of pressure. I’m only familiar with the pressures of the population who has to carefully decide whether to pay their utilities or put food on the table. Your pressure encompasses the fact you are paid a lot of money, and given many privileges, to perform well."

Her words were spoken without harshness - he could hear that she was hurt, but yet he could not formulate a response, acknowledgement, or an apology.

Loren glanced at her watch and saw it was nearing time for her to leave. This was not the goodbye she had envisioned before her own road trip, so to speak.

Another modelling opportunity had landed in her lap, thanks to her friend Chelsea steering her clients towards Loren for smaller marketing campaigns. Despite Loren’s reservations - a “mature model” was not what she had pictured for herself - she really enjoyed the experience once underway. The big difference with this opportunity is it required for her to travel to Miami, something that William had initially been very excited about for her. William was always supportive and encouraging if it was something she could swing with her schedule. Selfishly, he loved seeing the end result of Loren gracing various online platforms - his insides brimming with pride for her.

But for days, he’d been so disengaged, lately so wrapped up in himself, that he’d forgotten entirely. Loren hesitated for a moment, waiting for a ‘good luck’ or something supportive, but the words never came.

She kissed the dogs and then pressed her lips against William’s cheek. She picked up her bag, shouldering it effortlessly, and walked to the door.

Pausing in the doorway, she turned back to him, deciding to leave him with a gentle reminder.

"Your world is full of choices most people can only dream of, William," she added. "You’re in control—just play the game as you’ve been coached and shoot the fucking puck."

And then she was gone.

Their communication had been limited during his road trip, and he assumed she was giving him space. He’d been busy too, swept up in the events of the “Mentors Trip,” with a close friend tagging along and the team’s schedule packed tight.

It wasn’t until he received a message from his sister saying how amazing Loren looked, with no additional context, when he realized he had totally forgotten about her trip south. With his stomach doing somersaults, he hurriedly scrolled through Instagram.

She’d looked stunning in the few posts Chelsea had tagged Loren's new account in—a mix of candid shots and professional ones—but William couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach. It hadn’t registered with him where she was going when she had left his place - he assumed she had gone home or was at work. The fact he had not breathed any kind words her way, even in the days before she departed, made his heart hurt. She had tip-toed around his ego, trying to be optimistic, and the best he could do is bite her head off. You really are a prick sometimes he thought to himself.

Now armed with the new realization, he opened their text thread, hesitating only a moment before typing:

Förlåt mig, min älskling - I know I fucked up. Before I get back could you come down? Not sure if you are home even. Can u msg me back to let me know. I feel so bad.

The message felt desperate, but he didn’t care. He hit send before tucking his phone into his jacket pocket as the bus pulled up to the airport.

It wasn’t long before his phone vibrated, as he stood to disembark from the coach. He sighed with relief - it was her. I’m glad you’re on your way. I’ll see you soon.

He responded with another apology and told her he loved her.

It was nearly 3:30 a.m. when William, with Pablo and Banksy in tow, entered his condo. He set down his garment bag by the door and dropped his keys into the dish by the entrance. He glanced at the dogs, hearing the tapping of their claws across the floor as they ran toward his bedroom. He guessed they were already on the bed by now, pressing their noses against Loren’s face. Sure enough, he heard her soft, sleepy voice greeting them, and he couldn’t help but smile.

He was about to smother her with his own brand of affection, but his attention was immediately drawn to the dining table, where a basket full of holistic skin and hair products sat neatly arranged. The plain but attractive bottles bore labels he didn’t recognize, but that didn’t matter—he already knew if they came from her, he would love them.

He sighed. She was always thinking, always making an effort, keeping an eye out for something just for him. Loren had a perfect record when it came to gifts, thoughtful in ways that left him humbled. She never wanted anything in return—other than his arms around her and his chest to nuzzle into. He could hardly wait to give her exactly that.

He opened one of the bottles, its simple label noting "Aphrodisiac Oil," and sniffed the contents. He was immediately struck by its unique fragrance, his eyebrows lifting when he read the instructions. Gently, he placed it back in the basket and smirked, knowing exactly what Loren had in mind for their day tomorrow.

When William padded into his bedroom, the expression on his face lit up seeing her in bed. Loren lay on her side, her back toward him, facing where he’d be laying momentarily, as she cooed sweet words to the dogs. In turn, they pressed close against her, almost sensing she had traveled further than normal, reveling in her gentle rubs. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her freshly tanned skin, making her look as radiant as ever.

Loren shifted her body while remaining under the covers, to turn and face William. Their eyes locked as they smiled at each other.

“How is it that you look even more gorgeous every time I see you? Do you drink from a magic fountain or something? Have a fairy godmother that sings a song and you magically replenish?” Loren grinned.

William laughed as his heart soared with her words. He approached the edge of the bed, and leaned over, bringing his face close to hers, before kissing her softly. “The same could be said about you, you know.”

Loren ran her hand along his cheek, moving her lips toward his ear as she spoke softly. “You don’t have your glasses on—my wrinkles are getting worse… I’m in a whole other decade than you right now, and it shows.”

Her words, playful and teasing, triggered something in William’s memory. Loren mentioning her age—a gap of less than two years between them—brought him back to her milestone birthday in December. Her 30th birthday had fallen during an eastern road trip, and he hadn’t been able to physically be there to celebrate with her. Adding to the chaos of their lives were scheduled road games, team parties and other events leading up to Christmas. His place sometimes seemed busier that Union Station itself.

When he returned home, he celebrated her birthday exactly the way she wanted to. A small get together at William’s, just some take-out, a few drinks, and then him later on. William had other gifts for Loren, but this one had slipped his mind. He’d tucked it away, intending to surprise her when things calmed down, but it had been completely forgotten since.

The gift was intended for bedroom purposes only, and given they would be completely alone until dinnertime the next day, he could hardly wait for her to open it.

After finishing up in the washroom, William climbed into bed, pulled a half-sleeping Loren into him, and patted the mattress for the dogs to come lay closer. Loren’s hands lightly smoothed across his back, while her mouth planted tiny kisses on his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Loren - I was such a dick to you,” William murmured against her hair.

He felt her smile against his skin. “You can’t be perfect all the time,” she sighed. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh, and I hated leaving but I had to go,” she added softly.

William nodded, his lips lingering against her forehead. “I know—well, now I do. But this was all me—I didn’t mean to take it out on you. What you said, though, about the kind of pressure you’re used to…” His voice trailed off. “That stuck with me. I must have sounded like such a whiny—”

“No, don’t even go there,” she gently interrupted, her voice warm but firm. “William, I didn’t mean to… well, maybe in the moment I did. But I’m not trying to diminish what it’s taken, and what it takes, to be you every day. I’m sorry if I made you feel like shit—but you finally got me to snap,” she chuckled, nuzzling into his chest hair.

“That’s you snapping? Actually, I gotta say… when I know you’re upset and you keep calm like that? Holy fuck. That worried me more than if you went around screaming and yelling,” William chuckled softly.

She smiled against his chest. “I actually used to be the yelling type—like being pushed and poked until I finally lost it. I didn’t like being that way… that’s not how my parents are, but a certain someone would just keep pressing until I exploded.” Her voice softened, her words slowing as a yawn escaped. “It’s a little late for a full demonstration, but if you really want to see it, pick a fight with me while I’m hormonal and see which version is scarier.”

William laughed quietly, smoothing her hair away from her shoulders, his fingers tracing circles in its place. “I bet you’re hot when you’re really angry… but I’ll pass for now.”

As he stretched back to turn off the light, Loren’s hands ran down his chest, savoring the softness of his body hair. It always caused a stirring between her legs, no matter how tired she was.

Save for the constant flow of traffic on the streets outside his windows, a blanket of calm and quiet surrounded them. After a loving kiss and soft “goodnights,” they drifted off quickly, wrapped in each other.

Because it was Pablo and Banksy’s world, and William just lived in it, the boys decided it was time for their morning walk earlier than anyone wanted. William groggily slid out of bed, rubbing his eyes and stretching as he padded wearily to the washroom. He reentered the bedroom to find Loren awake and starting to get dressed.

“Whoa—wait… you’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep, his expression slightly confused.

Loren, just as confused as William, slowed her movements and turned to him with a smile. “I was planning on going with you—y’know, do like we normally do… while everyone’s watching you, you’re watching—”

“Your ass, ten steps ahead of me,” he finished, grinning.

Loren, now in just a sports bra and leggings, sauntered up to him, her arms circling around his neck. She tilted her head slightly, biting her lip as she gave him “the doe eyes”. “But watching my ass is not what Sir wants this morning?”

If ever there was an invitation from Loren to William for him to grab her ass and pull her against his dissipating morning erection, it was that innocent-sounding question with a much naughtier subtext.

William suddenly remembered the gift—her ass in the gift wasn’t going to be just a morning preoccupation. It was going to be an all-day event. “Hold up—hold that thought…” He kissed her briefly before slipping into his closet. Within seconds, he returned with a beautifully wrapped package in hand.

“I’ll take the boys,” he said, handing her the box with a mischievous grin, “and you could maybe do a little modeling for me when I get back.”

Loren looked at him, her face softening with appreciation and affection for her gorgeous Swede. She wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Be careful,” she murmured, William flashing a smile her way as he turned to lead the pups to the front door.

Once he had departed with the dogs, Loren sat on the edge of the bed, the package resting in her lap. She ran her fingers over the carefully wrapped paper, recalling how William had teased her for being so slow to open her other birthday gifts. She’d explained that she was used to saving the wrapping paper—a habit he’d found endearing once she told him.

She smiled to herself, sliding the rectangular box free without so much as a tear. The wrapping remained pristine, just as it had with her other gifts. Loren set the paper aside before lifting the lid of the box, her curiosity mounting.

Beyond the smooth tissue paper with the sticker emblem of the store sealing the seams, Loren saw the outline of a beautiful lingerie set. Her cheeks flushed as she peeled the sticker away and opened the paper to reveal a delicate ivory negligée with matching panties.

What struck Loren most was how angelic the set appeared, the ivory colour evoking a sense of innocence and purity. Her fingers grazed the intricate beading and sheer fabric, tracing the fine satin ties that adorned the front. Every detail was strategically designed to enhance the female body. As she held the negligée up to the light by the thin spaghetti straps, Loren grew excited to see how it might embellish her own figure.

She tried to visualize William's mood when he chose to buy this for her. She was so curious to understand more of how his mind and moods worked - was it just a random set he saw one day or did he go searching for it? Did he just think it was pretty or was there a deeper meaning behind choosing an outfit so delicate?

No matter the reason behind his choice, the moment Loren stripped out of her leisure wear and slipped into the ivory babydoll, her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of herself in William’s full-length mirror.

The almost shimmering fabric and the intricate beading reflected the light with every slight movement of her body. She slid the matching panties on, her hands smoothing over them as she continued to study her reflection.

The way the outfit made her feel was extraordinary. She felt soft, feminine, and undeniably pretty—and the tan from her trip was a gorgeous contrast to the light fabric. It seemed perfectly her - angelic yet jaw-droppingly sexy.

After sprucing up her hair, smoothing her favourite body butter over her body (the one with the scent that always made him pounce), and a quick yet subtle application of make-up, she awaited William’s return. She straightened out the sheets on the bed, and decided she would greet him by kneeling in the middle of the bed and wait for his reaction.

Even with only a few hours sleep, William felt remarkably energetic as he ushered his dogs back through the front door after their walk. When he didn’t see her in the main living area or the kitchen, he assumed that she either fell back asleep or better yet, might be in the shower. Although he wanted to see her in the lingerie he had chosen, Loren - naked - was always the main attraction.

William moved about the kitchen, fixing the dogs’ breakfasts and grabbing a quick drink of water. The condo felt unusually quiet, and he assumed sleep had claimed Loren after her whirlwind week.

But the second he stepped foot into his bedroom, he froze.

There she was, kneeling in the center of the bed, framed by the soft glow of twinkling white lights and the greenery still draped over the headboard from Christmas.

The delicate ivory fabric and intricate beadwork, with their faint shimmer, perfectly accentuated her luminescent golden skin and slender frame. The satin ties strained ever so slightly, pushing her full breasts upwards and keeping them intact. His eyes fell to her cleavage, further arousing him as he scanned the otherwise angelic set.

William began to shed his clothing, his eyes locked with hers. No words had been spoken between them, but none were needed as their desire for one another took hold.

He crawled onto the bed, bare-chested, the fabric of his sweatpants tented with his growing arousal. Without hesitation, he cupped her face and kissed her deeply, his lips expressing everything he felt but hadn’t yet said—how sorry he was, how much he missed her, how deeply and completely he was in love with her.

The dynamic between them was set the moment their mouths met—he, the virile man, all strength and desire; she, the soft, feminine angel who consistently gave him all of her.

She looked up at William’s face, her deep brown eyes sincere, filled with longing and profound desire. Her arm slid around the contours of his defined shoulders, her fingers threading through his golden strands before gathering and lightly gripping his hair. Her hands instinctively moved along his scalp, eliciting a low, guttural sound from him that sent a thrill through her.

Her other hand slowly blazed a path down his chest, past his abdomen, to where his cock strained against the stretchy black fabric of his pants. Her fingers began massaging and caressing his balls before alternating with teasing strokes along the tip of his cock. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling as he pressed his mouth against the soft curve of her throat. He already felt like he was coming undone, completely disarmed by her touch—the touch he had been longing for.

But beneath the haze of arousal, another feeling gnawed at him. He wanted to look after her, to love her in ways he hadn’t since New Year’s. Though his physical desire for her had remained even during his uncharacteristic low mood, he knew he hadn’t put forth the same kind of effort Loren always gave so selflessly.

Though she never let on if she felt unfulfilled in those moments, he felt the sting of his own guilt. He’d prioritized his own release over hers a handful of times, letting his exhaustion or frustration seep into their intimacy. Loren deserved better than what he had given her.

William placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the base of her neck, his lips lingering on her skin as his fingers worked to untie the satin bows along the front of the teddy. With each careful tug, the delicate fabric loosened, revealing more of her flushed skin. Her breasts were bunched, her nipples protruding through the sheer material, and William’s mouth latched onto the clothed peaks with a hunger that made Loren gasp.

He knew exactly what drove her wild—sucking and tonguing her nipples until she was breathless—and he gave them his full attention, his tongue swirling in deliberate patterns that left her completely weak in the knees. Her moans filled the room, soft and unrestrained, urging him on.

With a fluid motion, William slipped off his pants and shorts, freeing his fully hardened cock. The sight of him—so completely aroused—made Loren’s mouth water and her clit ache with an undeniable need.

William maneuvered himself behind her, propping up pillows against the headboard to support his back. He coaxed Loren to nestle between his legs, her back pressed firmly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, his hands exploring the expanse of her body that was within reach—her neck, her breasts, her tummy, and the sensitive space between her thighs.

One hand gently kneaded her breast, his thumb brushing over the peak as he kissed the soft curve of her neck. The other hand slipped lower, massaging her clothed pussy with deliberate pressure. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure through her, making her body shift between states of relaxation and the tightening tension of her heightening arousal.

William’s lips trailed down the full length of the back of her neck as he moved her hair over to one side, the heat of his breath against her skin making her shiver. Loren gripped his forearm instinctively, her fingers digging in as the intense sensitivity of his touch overwhelmed her in the most intoxicating way.

She breathed his name, her voice trembling, then gasped as his middle finger dipped beneath the waistband of her sheer panties. His strong, thick digits stroked the delicate flesh of her pussy, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through her. His mouth found her shoulder blade, nipping and sucking at her skin leaving her pleading for more.

William had never knowingly marked her before, but this time, he couldn’t help himself. The way she responded to his touch was almost too stimulating for him to handle.

The magic in his fingers had Loren’s hips grinding instinctively against him, her arousal building with every stroke. Soon, William’s other hand slid from her breast to her clit, circling it with precision while he finger-fucked her with deep, steady movements.

She leaned her head back, almost pressing it against his shoulder, her moans a tantalizing mix of expletives and his name. William’s gaze lingered on her, captivated by every detail—the long sweep of her eyelashes, the curve of the prettiest nose he’d ever seen, and the full, voluptuous mouth that had thrilled him every time it made contact with his body.

His eyes traveled lower, watching her throat tighten with whispers and gasps, and then higher, catching the way her eyes suddenly flew open wide as she cried out his name. The way she unraveled in his arms, gripping under his thighs and bearing down for an intense release, sent a jolt of pride through him. His cock, almost unbearably rigid, pressed against the fleshy curve of her ass, eager for its turn to be buried deep inside her.

William’s voice was low and thick as he leaned closer, whispering into her ear. “You look like an angel. Let me watch you cum, my beautiful angel.”

Typically, the moans, grunts and other noises William made while in the throes of sex with Loren turned her on to no end. She would have never guessed that William saying those words, could have such an effect on her. The sound of his voice, low and gruff, sent her spiraling. Her hands scrambled around his body, gripping at whatever she could. Her body arched into his, her inner thighs trembling violently.

Her climax hit like a forceful wave, leaving her crying out his name as her body jolted and shuddered with the peak of her release. As she floated down from her high, her hips wove instinctively, seeking more of him. She wasn’t done—not even close. And neither was he.

Once Loren regained her bearings, she turned to face him, her body shifting seductively as she kneeled and propped herself against his broad chest. Her lips found his in a heated kiss, her hand cupping his face while the other slid down, working to peel off her now-soaked panties.

A devilish moan escaped her as she tossed them aside, her eyes locking onto the smooth, glistening tip of his cock. Slowly, she began to crawl backward on her knees, her intentions clear in every movement.

William’s pulse quickened as he watched her movements, every deliberate shift of her body drawing him in further. He knew exactly what she wanted—her gaze, intense and unmistakable, paired with the way she licked her lips as his cock hovered mere inches from her mouth.

He loved how open and expressive she was with her desires, how she never held back from showing him exactly what she wanted.

But more and more, each time they were apart, it wasn't just Loren's physical affection he missed. It was seeing her exquisite face and hearing her sweet voice. When he entered a room, her coffee-colored eyes would meet his with such care and devotion that his heart would skip. He had never met a woman who could make him feel so cherished with just a glance.

William’s tone was soft and low as he motioned for Loren to come back towards him. “I promise you and Cowboy Bill can have your alone time later - I’m dying to be inside of you - let me watch you cum again….”

Loren’s cheeks flushed at his invitation, her own pulse raced hearing the hunger in his voice. Kneeling before him, she reached out, her thumb gently running through the bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock. She smoothed it over the head with care, her eyes fixed on his as she licked her thumb clean.

A soft, sinful smile played on Loren’s lips as she leaned forward once more, her tongue flicking over the top of his cock before pressing a kiss to the smooth, sensitive skin. Her movements were deliciously slow, designed to make him desperate for her.

Gracefully, she shifted her body, sliding one knee on either side of him as she straddled his lap. Her hands found his shoulders for balance, her lips brushing his in a kiss that left him breathless.

Her eyes flicked to the small bottle of oil she’d brought back from her trip, tucked into the basket of self-care products she’d given him. Of course, with the massage oil, “self-care” really meant “William-care” in her mind. Her hips continued their enticing motion as she kissed his neck and reached for the glass bottle.

The sparkling glint in William’s eye as he watched Loren drop two beads of oil into her palm was full of lust and anticipation. He untied the third satin string from the front of her teddy, baring her breasts completely, and motioned for her to let a little oil drip into his hand.

With the bottle safely set aside, Loren deftly reached around and began to massage the base of William’s cock, sliding her hand upward to his balls and all the way to the tip. Her touch was perfect—gentle yet firm—and it left him utterly helpless, groaning her name as his hips bucked involuntarily.

In turn, with her round breasts before him, William smoothed his palms over her soft skin, thumbing her nipples with just enough pressure to make her grind against him more intensely.

It wasn’t long before William urged Loren to slide herself down onto his cock. Their mouths met in a fervent kiss, the heat between them down-right feverish as she positioned herself, and he aligned the tip against her entrance. The moment he filled her, she gasped and moaned in one breath, her senses overwhelmed by the stretch and thickness of his girth.

Her hands gripped his shoulders as she began to rock slowly, her body adjusting to the sensation. Her head lolled back, her lips parting in a gasp as her rhythm grew more assured. Her movements became more pronounced, her hips rolling and shifting to drive him deeper inside her.

William’s hands found her waist, gripping tightly as he pressed upward, matching her eager pace. His eyes were drawn to her mouth, where endless moans of his name and breathy exhales spilled out, each sound urging him to grip onto her waist tighter.

His eyes traveled to her long, slender neck, the visible veins beginning to strain as her body succumbed to the unrelenting pleasure. There was something undeniably sexy about it, something raw and primal that only fueled his already raging desire for her.

Loren’s increasingly rapid hip movements, coupled with her louder moans, signaled that she was nearing her climax. As her body shifted back and forth, she reached around to cup and caress his balls, her touch sending jolts of pleasure straight through him. William’s thigh muscles began to tighten, the telltale sensation of his own orgasm starting to grip him from within.

Unable to hold back, he wrapped his arms tightly around her back and waist, pulling her closer and driving the pace of their fucking to a fevered intensity. Each thrust pushed him deeper, harder, matching the rhythm of her cries. Loren gritted her teeth, her hands gripping his neck and shoulders as her powerful orgasm took full control of her movements.

Her body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, and she buried her face into his neck in an attempt to stifle her cries. The sensation of her tightening around him sent William over the edge, a guttural grunt escaping his throat as he came, pumping his release deep into her.

Even as the tremors of their shared release began to subside, William’s arms remained firmly around Loren’s breathless body. She trembled in his embrace, her body shuddering from the unique bliss of her climax, her breath warm against his skin.

He shifted his body carefully, his arms still firmly wrapped around her, as he gently laid her down on the mattress. His eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her hair sprawled across the pillows, her skin glowing, her breath becoming more even.

Her eyes were closed, her expression one of pure bliss, and in that moment, she looked otherworldly.

She felt the sandpaper roughness of his stubble on her shoulder as he pressed his lips softly against her skin. “Did you fall asleep?” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed his lips over her chest. He kissed her gently between her breasts, then continued down to her stomach.

Her hand lazily found the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as he planted more kisses along the softer part of her abdomen.

A smile began to spread across her face. “I just need a minute or two,” she sighed, trying to lift her arm to drape it around his waist.

After a few “minute or twos” had passed, William and Loren eventually made their way first to the washroom, then to the kitchen. Loren had come back to life, leaning against the counter and admiring William as he fished through the pantry for a quick breakfast.

With his back to her as he searched for his protein powder, he called out teasingly, “I can feel you looking at me.”

Loren let out a soft chuckle. “Your hair—I didn’t realize how long it had gotten until I was—”

“Nearly pulling it out?” he laughed, but his expression dropped suddenly. “Fuck, I forgot… I’m getting it cut this afternoon.”

Loren made a pouty face. No matter what he did, he always looked incredible, but she really was enjoying his longer hair. William glanced over after double-checking his appointment confirmation in his texts. “You don’t want me to cut it?” he asked, smiling.

“Your body, your rules,” she replied, smirking. “I just won’t have as much to grip when you’re dining on my… well, you know. But I guess that’s probably done for the day anyway.”

William tilted his head as he stepped toward her. “I didn’t think we were done for the day… and my appointment isn’t until 3.” He took another step, loosening the tie on her robe. “Gotta say, I overheard Stevie talking about him and his fiancée thinking about trying for a baby.”

Loren’s eyes grew wide, her mouth slightly agape.

Seeing her reaction, William doubled back on his comment. “I know we’re not quite there yet, but I can’t stop thinking about it. If—and when—we decide we want to try… I think, man, we’d have a lot of fun.”

Loren smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. “Let me get something to eat first. Then I’ll have my alone time with Cowboy Bill and that Aphrodisiac Oil.” Her tone dropped to a sultry purr as she added, “After that, you can do whatever you want with me… imagining putting a baby in me.”

She kissed him deeply, her hands gripping his ass. Her cheeks flushed as butterflies swirled in her stomach at the thought that filled her with unexpected joy:

He’s actually thinking about the day he puts a baby in me.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: The Fantastic Mrs. Fox pt. 1

Words: 4.3k

Summary: Carmy deals with his nightmares while you deal with your family.

a/n: This is more fluff but I'll make it up with smut on the next one ;) Hope you enjoy! xx

PS. Reader is latina in this and if you are too, you’ll probably understand the families…

He could not remember the last time his lungs didn’t ache from the lack of air. It felt like he could finally catch a decent breath and his neck wasn’t strained from its constant outstretched position, trying to hold his head above the murky water before it pulled him under the current. The pressure in his chest was rubbed away by dexterous fingers covered in velvet clay as you molded him into one of your beautiful art pieces, fingerprints permanently etched into his surface.

He didn’t want to give credit of his newly found good mood to whatever you two had, he wasn’t the kind to let anyone influence over his emotions. Many years of abusive behavior in the world’s best kitchens had made him believe he was above all that. He could whisk a Hollandaise sauce by hand in less than a minute, while some entitled asshole butchered his self esteem with every word and yet it would still be the best shit that had left that kitchen. He didn’t believe he was above it, he knew.

And yet, a single ‘hope ur having a great day xx’ text from you was enough to dissipate the boiling irritation beginning to grow after a very shitty day, the simple sentence curling his lips into a small smile.

The week had been going smoothly. Apart from the day where he had to break the news to the team that you wouldn’t be coming back to work due to… personal priorities, everything had been smooth sailing. At least as smooth as it can be when the ship is held by duct tape and is constantly on fire. The payment on their meat deliveries was finally up to date, meaning that they could order more product, which in turn meant more sales for the restaurant. 

He called you after closing and while he finished scrubbing a few grimey spots on the floor he told you the good news. You were just as excited as he was, probably even more, because this meant that his plan to turn The Beef into a respectable business was finally starting to take shape. 

In a low whisper you told him how glad you were and when he answered that ‘there’s still so much more left to do’, you replied with ‘Yeah, but that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m really proud of you for it.’

Your words had trickled through his veins, sticky sweet invading his body and keeping him warm as he drove home and settled on his couch to rest his eyes.

The warmth, however, had now dissipated into thin slivers of distress that circled his throat and constricted his airway. Mirages of blinding white tiles and glistening stainless steel haunted his vision, no matter how hard he closed his eyes. A booming voice that sounded like his own but laced with unknown malice vibrated in his skull and crept under his skin as it repeated the familiar mantra for the tenth time in a row, ‘Mikey was wrong, you can’t handle it’. The taste of smoke filled his lungs, drawing heavy droplets of water from his eyes and forcing him to the floor, heaving in desperation. Roaring flames invaded his view, crawling up the walls and swallowing everything around him in an angry orange blaze.

Carmy’s body jerked awake, wild eyes scanning the dark surrounding for the immediate threat. The lulling sounds of the cooking channel were no more than static to the ringing in his ears and the tang of inexistent smoke felt heavy inside his mouth. He rubbed his eyes ferociously, hoping this would clear the image of his burning kitchen now carved into his mind. Through the cloudy haze of adrenaline and angst, his own thoughts seemed far in the distance, like he was floating away from his own existence, like if nothing was real.

A pang in his chest made him grip over his heart with shaky fingers, the all too familiar bile beginning to strut its way up his trachea at the intrusive thought that maybe you too had been a vision fabricated by his fucked up head. It would only make sense, how someone as perfect as you had just suddenly appeared like a lifeline, bright and beautiful, taking a liking to him of all people. Maybe he had finally lost his marbles, The Beef and everyone in that fucking place had finally broken him,

“Okay, okay, okay, get your shit together.” He mumbled to himself and rubbed a hand over his sweat covered face. 

He tried to breathe in as deeply as he could with his aching lungs, hold it in then exhale shakily, like he had once read in one of those psychology posts that seemed irrelevant until now. With fingers pressing tightly against his temples, he continued the breathing exercises until he no longer felt like his chest would concave into a black hole. He dragged his other hand to the space between his torso and the backrest of the couch where he could feel the hard surface of his phone and unlocked it with slight trembling fingers.

His thumb hovered over the call button in your contact info, doubting if he should inconvenience you with his mental crap, especially at four in the morning. Instead, he moved to his gallery where the bright image contrasted between pictures of gloomy skylines and invoice reminders. Bright green gelée with vibrant edible violets stared back at him through the lit up screen while he readjusted himself in the small sofa, the pastry soothed the turmoil of negative thoughts regarding your existence and served as the confirmation his head needed to allow his worked up body some desired rest.

**********

It was Sweep’s turn to play the music for the day, and while normally he would just tune it out until service hours, the insistent bass mixed with his sleep deprivation, drilled a consistent hole right between his brows.

“Yo chef, turn that shit down, will ya?” He asked Syd, who stood close to the radio, cutting onions.

Despite their system functioning slightly better, Carmy couldn’t help being on edge from the moment he walked through the door, expecting anything and everything to go wrong. He could blame the nightmare still fresh in his mind, but he knew the sudden waves of anxiety had begun way before forcefully inheriting The Beef. Somewhere between New York and Noma.

Remnants of the conversation with his sister the week before surfaced from the shallow water and he remembered the pamphlets he had been skimming over right before discarding them completely when you had gone in to quit. A soft smile covered his face as the memories of everything that happened that night replayed in his head, then he cleared his throat to cover it up. 

He finished dicing the vegetables for the giardiniera with mechanical ease, then threw everything in a low pot with vinegar, water, salt, pepper and a few bay leaves, leaving it to simmer. When he asked Tina to watch it for him, he only received a soft grunt as a response, which he answered with a ‘thank you, T.’ and retrieved into the office to find the pamphlets and give another good look over them. 

Maybe Sugar wasn’t so crazy to suggest Al-Anon Family. God knows he needed somewhere to vent after all the shit that had happened in the past couple months. He was never the type to ‘talk about it’, no one in his family was, which was probably the biggest reason why the thing with his brother had happened. He was used to swallowing it down, whether it was his brother’s rejection or the constant verbal assault of America’s Next Top Chef Imbecile. He was used to keeping it controlled, letting it simmer slowly in the depths of his stomach, until it reduced into a thick red paste that invaded his veins and darkened his vision. 

Before the voice in the back of his head convinced him that ‘It wasn’t worth it’ and that ‘all you need to do is man up, not fuckin therapy’, he saved the number in bold black letters to his contacts for safe keeping, promising himself he’d call during his next break.

Three soft knocks on the flimsy material of the open door caught his attention as he saved the papers into one of the many crowded drawers. He turned around in his chair and a new wave of found air reached his lungs. 

“Hey ” You whispered, stepping into the small space, bottom lip caught in your teeth. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey…” He breathed in, and for the first time in a while, he felt like the oxygen had finally filled his lungs. “N-no, no, no, of course not. What’s up?”

Carmy stood from his seat with renewed energy, stretching a hand to caress your forearm but stopped himself midway when he remembered that you hadn’t really talked about how you would approach this new situation whenever you visited the restaurant. Your eyes flickered to his stagnant hand and your grip around a grease stained cardboard box tightened. You threw a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure no one was looking, then softly pushed the door closed with your boot, until you heard a click. Immediately after, you carelessly dropped the box on his desk and circled your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to your hungry lips. His arms automatically closed around your form and a soft hum escaped your throat as you melted into his warm embrace. It was absurd how quickly he had gotten used to the tender movements of your silky lips on his, because at that moment, he could not remember how he had lived so long deprived of such a delightful experience. 

A light laugh escaped your mouth when your side hit the edge of his desk after he unconsciously spun you in the small space.

You pulled your face to take a few deep breaths as well as calm your thundering heartbeat, and when you finally opened your eyes, he swore you held the entire cosmos inside the dark, glittering voids.

“I just came to drop off family, but this is nice too.” You joked under your breath and he followed along.

“Hmm..what’d you make?”

“Empanadas.” You answered with a warm smile and reached for the forgotten box behind you. “See?” A savory scent invaded his nose from the moment you opened the lid, his stomach registering the estranged sensation of hunger after the long day.

“Shit… that smells fire.”

“You wanna take one now? Knowing them, there won’t be many left.”

“Oh no thanks, I’m good.”

You stared at him with a blank expression, then pushed the open box to him. You looked at him expectantly, then at the box and back at him. He sighed but reached into it and took one, placing it over a closed binder on his desk.

“Happy?” 

“Mhm, very.” You answered with a satisfied smile, standing on your toes and giving him a chaste kiss. “So, whatcha lookin’ at?” You ask, dropping your bag over the familiar spot.

Carmy let you go and sat back down on the revolving chair with a sigh, analyzing how much of the truth he should tell you. He wasn’t sure if you knew about Mikey and all the shit that had gone down. From what he remembered, you had come in when the waters had finally settled and only the disaster after the storm remained. 

The same wrenching feeling from the night before invaded his mind at the thought of dragging you into his mess.

“Just uhm…” He rubbed his face with his elbows resting on his thighs “Some accounting stuff I can’t get my head around.” He answered instead.

Your soft touch combed through the knotted curls of his hair, careful fingers massaged the neglected scalp and an involuntary sigh parted his lips. It’s like the simple act had triggered his neck to lose hold on his head because soon he felt the soft fabric of your shirt pressed against his forehead and eyes as you stood in front of him, massaging his worries away. You stepped between his separated legs, racking your nails from his scalp down his neck and to his tense shoulders, disarming him completely. The swell in his chest grew for a very different reason when he realized just how touch starved he truly was, as he could not remember the last time someone had treated him with such tenderness and care. If there ever was such a time.

“Maybe you just need some rest…” You said softly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

His hands rubbed absentmindedly along the length of your thighs, humming in response to your caring words. He rose his head from its comfortable place to look up at you. You smiled delicately down at him and cupped his face between your hands, then placed a loving kiss in the valley of his eye brows.

That was enough for the lock that guarded the Pandora’s box in the back of his darkened mind to break in two. His mouth parted lightly as the Adam's apple in his throat grew two sizes too big for words to escape, and he knew, though not if it was good or bad, that no one else would ever top the rush of emotions you had made him experience with such a simple gesture.

Your brows raised in confusion at his expression. “What?” You asked through a nervous laugh.

He shook his head with a light smile, gripping tightly at your hips where his hands had stopped, then stood from his chair.

“C’mon, let go feed these fuckers.”

Carmy placed his hand on your lower back as the other held on to the box, then after you opened the office door, you walked to the dining area where most of the bustle came from.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in and left to die!” Richie’s voice boomed above everyone else's, making the team turn in your direction.

There was a sudden screech of chairs as the group got up to greet you with enthusiasm, the sound made Carmy’s small migraine pulse but the sight of your excited expression soothed it back down.

“Look at you, all pretty in your blue aprons!” You said between laughs scanning your ex coworkers’ uniforms.

“Jeff says it compliments my eyes.” Tina joked, batting her lashes up at you.

“He couldn’t be more right.” You answered, hugging her side and turning to him with beaming eyes. 

Marcus took the box from Carmy’s hands excitedly, opening it on his way to the table and setting it in the middle for all to take.

“Yo, these look sick! You made them?” He asked you after everyone had settled back down and you took a seat between Carmy and Syd.

“Yeah, well, my grandad helped. They good?”

“Tastes like shit..” Ebra mumbled through a mouthful of dough and everyone laughed.

“They’re actually an invitation-”

“I accept.” He interrupted and you snickered lightly.

“Where to?” Marcus asked.

“My grandpa’s turning 76 tomorrow. I was supposed to invite you guys like two weeks ago but I kinda forgot. So as long as you don’t tell my mother, I’ll make sure you leave on the verge of alcohol poisoning and with enough food for three days..”

He heard a few ‘Niceee’ from the youngests of the group, while Angel tried bargaining the amount of rations per person and failing miserably, bumping it down to two days and receiving a light smack in the head from Manny.

“Wow, wait I don’t think I can make it. I gotta work tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, me too babe, sorry.”

Marcus and Sweeps let you know and when he turned to you, he could see your brows drop very slightly in disappointment.

“Yeah, I think we’re all on the clock tomorrow…” Richie said from his corner of the table.

“O-oh” He saw you swallow slowly, then smile softly to hide your expression. “No biggie, then. I’ll just tell her you’re all busy, she’ll understand.”

A few sorry’s spread through the group as they continued eating. 

He remembered Tina had asked him for Sunday off a week ago and so did Sydney, so he assumed they would be there, but he knew how much it meant to you that everyone could go. They were your other family, after all.

Without overthinking it, the words bubbled in his throat, spilling over the edge before he could stop them.

“We could close.”

The movements stopped completely when everyone turned around to him, stunned. He cleared his throat out of nervousness from the sudden attention, then spoke again.

“For dinner, I mean.” He specified.

“Seriously?” Syd asked in surprise. “Cause even with our off days we’ve been opening daily for the past, what like two and a half months?”

“Yeah, but we’re finally up to date with the meat sourcers and we have at least a two week parachute to keep us off the ground.” Carmy flicked his eyes to your confused face, then back to the group. “Plus, I think we’ve all earned a good rest, right?”

The family erupted in delight at the good news, clear skies ahead as they felt they were almost out of the woods. Besides, no one could say no to a night of free food and booze.

While they finished eating, they arranged plans on how to carpool for the next day or on who would be the unlucky idiot to be the designated driver, at least out of the ones that could drive. Under the table, Carmy snuck his hand to rest over your knee, slow enough to not catch the attention of the crew, and yours cupped over it gingerly. A glowing smile covered your features when you looked at him, mouthing a very much heartfelt ‘Thank you’, that reached the dingiest parts of his tethered soul and appeased the flames bubbling in his core.

**********

You had not known a single moment of peace since the second your mother barged into your room to throw the covers off you around eight, nagging on how late it was for you to still be in bed at that hour. You could hear the familiar Spanish ballads playing on the TV, which indicated it was Sunday morning in your household; as well as the rowdy laughter of your aunts, scraping pans around as they made breakfast for everyone in the crowded apartment.

The morning was spent between answering personal questions about your dating life and hauling decorations down the multiple flights of stairs into the patio beside the complex. After bribing the maintenance guy with twenty dollars and the promise of free booze, he agreed to let you use the space in private for the afternoon, even helping you hang the string of paper decorations around the available tree branches and offering an extension cord for the fairy lights. Joshua carried most of the tables and chairs, ones he borrowed from a friend of his who owned a rental shop and after half an hour of figuring out the best layout, you were finally done. 

You were quite proud of the turnout. The mismatched chairs and different colored tableware felt warm and inviting, just like the red carnations that sat in the makeshift wine vases along the main table. Your heart warmed at the sight of your grandmother’s favorite flowers, before closing the backdoor and walking up one last time to eat something then get ready.

“So, is your boyfriend coming?” Joshua broke the silence as you passed the second floor.

“The fuck are you on?” You asked back, a soft tint rising up your neck.

He turned around from a few steps above you and snickered. “C’mon, Fox. I saw him drop you off the other day.” His smile grew when he saw you swallow hard and that was confirmation enough. “I’m not telling ma, jus’ so  y’know.”

“I know you won’t,” Your step quickened up a few stairs, then you kicked his right foot to his left while it was in the air, causing him to almost trip on himself. “cause if you do, I'll tell her about the time you and Nico took the car to go see titties and you were almost arrested.” 

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dude, that was like two years ago, when will you let it go?!”

“When you two incels pay me back the bribe I had to give the bouncer so he wouldn’t call the cops on your asses!”

“Alright, fine! I won’t say shit..”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought…”

“What do you care anyway?” You asked after a few silence filled seconds.

“I don’t, '' he answered defensively. “Just makin’ sure it’s not that tall asshole from your job.”

Now it was your turn to snicker. “Who Richie?”

Your little brother shrugged and the story Richie had told you on your first day, about the nerd that punched Carmy, came back to mind. A malicious smirk curled on your lips as you reached your floor, one hand lifting to pat sarcastically up on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry bout it weasel, it’s not Richie… It’s the other one.” You said, walking ahead of him. “The one you punched, ‘member?”

You heard the squeak of his sneakers at the sudden stop and you had to bite your cheek to not burst into laughter as you crossed the open apartment door.

A wave of scents and sounds invaded your senses the moment you walked through the threshold, overwhelming to the point of a starting headache. It also didn’t help that all your stomach had processed was a cup of coffee a couple hours ago and that you had wasted most of your energy running up and down trying to make everything look presentable. You crossed the hallway and moved directly to the kitchen to find something to eat before getting ready. 

You were greeted by the welcome committee of your three matriarchs, all working on a different recipe around the counter, covered to the brim in ingredients.

“Ay, mi amor, you grew so tall!” Angie called excitedly the moment she saw you walk in.

“I've been the same size since senior year, tia, but thank you.” You laughed, hugging her shoulders softly to not move her hands cutting up veggies.

“Ya terminaron?” Your mother asked, kneading some dough inside a bowl.

You pulled a pear from the fruit bowl and nodded towards her. They continued gossiping as they worked through the ingredients and you chewed on your fruit in silence. 

There was something you found peaceful about the women in your family, especially in these sorts of events. How they all knew with perfection their role, their gear that worked in synchronicity inside the machine. It was always so beautiful to watch them cook together, even as a child you were astonished at how they moved with ease around each other, knowing their needs without having to voice them. It was like watching a ballet company that had been training on perfecting the same choreography all their lives. They were the main reason you had gone into cooking before anything else was even considered an option. They made you see it as a dance, elegant and exact.

A sudden slap in the back of the head brought you back from your thoughts. 

“Ay! Pendejo!” You shouted at your brother, rubbing your head and glaring in his direction.

“Mom’s talking to you!”

“And that’s why you hit me, you fuckin’ idiot!?”

A chorus of warning ‘Hey's was thrown to both of you, a reminder to behave on the important day.

“I was asking you if you invited your friends from work.” Your mother asked again.

“Mhm, they’ll be here around noon.”

She nodded slowly then looked back up at you with a subtle smile. “And did you invite that Carmy boy?”

“Ooh, who’s that?” Tere pitched in, now drawing the women’s attention towards your topic of conversation.

You bit back into the pear, ignoring the question as your mother took over for you.

“Oh, a boy that works with her, has the loveliest of blue eyes.” She said, widening her eyes and causing a wave of chuckling from her sisters. “What is he, russian?” She asked you.

“Italian.” You mumbled, through your chewing.

“Italian, that’s right!” Then she gasped as an idea came to mind. “You should introduce him to your cousin Sarita, y’know how lonely she’s been since her divorce…” Her voice shrinked into a whisper, as if she were telling a long kept secret.

You stopped mid bite at her words, sweeping through the sets of eyes that now waited expectantly for your answer. Joshua stood across the counter with a mocking smile and an apple in hand, while his other arm circled Angie’s shoulders.

“That’s a great idea ma, you should totally introduce ‘em to Sarita.” He said, then bit into his apple to hide the stupid grin invading his face.

You wanted nothing more than to lodge the fruit so far down his throat that he’d live with two Adam’s apples for the rest of his days, but you knew you’d have to answer for your crime against your mother’s darling boy. Instead you swallowed the last bite and left the space with the excuse of getting ready for the evening.

‘My mother wants to set you up with my cousin.

How good are you with kids?’

Read the text you sent Carmy while getting ready to take a shower. Your phone pinged less than a minute later and the little blue heart you had added next to his name made your stomach flutter.

‘Once sedated a party full of ‘em.

But other than that, pretty decent’

A loud laugh vibrated through your chest at his answer and you saved it in your mental folder under ‘stuff to ask him about’, next to the swirling designs on his torso and on how he had ended up stuck with The Beef, of all places.

Chapter 6.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[twopoppies]

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/758807347129876480/hello-gina-have-u-seen-the-drama-about-it-end

I want to preface this and say I CANNOT STAND Blake Lively. She has always irritated my asshole lol. And it doesn’t help that she’s besties with TS.

I agree with your assessment. this whole press tour truly reminds me of DWD/OW. BL has glamorized the true message of this movie about DV and it’s disgusting. I was a the century city mall during opening week and I walked past the pop up flower-shop set up to promote this fucking movie. It blew my mind that this was marketed as a romcom.

I feel so bad for Justin B and the PR spin her and her media darling hubby have put on him.yes, I irrationally believe that he’s involved this to support his wife. The headlines have not been Justins favor when reporting on this movie. I truly believe he wanted to make this movie closer to highlighting the perils of DV and she wanted her romantic glamorization. If it turns out he was shit to her/cast I will retract my ire for her in this instance but I’m on his side as of now. To mention that the PR team that he retained represented Depp just screams bias and that he’s somehow guilty. When I think it means he knows the type of narrative and media scrutiny he’s about to be under with BL, RR and TS fandoms combined and wanted to be prepared.And I thought it was shady as fuck to mention his faith at the end of this article. Whats the point of mentioning anyone’s faith unless it’s to shit on them and somehow justify the forming negative opinions about them?

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-news/justin-baldoni-hires-pr-crisis-manager-melissa-nathan-it-ends-with-us-1235973715/

The mention of their faith is a fucking weird way to end that article. It has nothing to do with anything.

I’m not bothered by him hiring someone who represented Johnny Depp. It seems like he needs a team who knows what they’re doing because he’s going up against a powerful Hollywood couple who seem to be using their power to spin things in their favor.

Everything I’ve seen and read about this movie makes it look like he took the idea of making a movie about domestic abuse very seriously, while she’s telling women to get their girlfriends and put on their floral dresses to have a great night out (and maybe use her hair care products when you get glammed up). It’s bizarre. I’m sure she’ll flip the switch now that she’s getting called out, but I’ve definitely seen more support for him than for her, so far.

I thought this was a decent sum up of what’s going on. We’ll see how things continue to play out.

x

[joe-spookyy]

hi today i’m ranking werewolf designs based on how much i judged the vfx team for creating them. full post under cut sorry it’s so insanely long but trust me on this one it’s fun i’m discussing an american werewolf in london harry potter twilight the wolf man buffy the vampire slayer etc and so on (except not etc that’s it.) my credentials are i’m insane about werewolf narratives and i’m the boss of the applesauce.

first up is an american werewolf in london. now THAT is a good beast. he’s spooky. he’s scary. he’s wolf-like but not Just a wolf. and they get some mega extra points for that transformation sequence. rick baker the man that you are. however as much as i love it there’s a few critiques i have to bring up. first. it’s kinda odd that so much of the color palette for the transformation scene was browns and blacks when the actual werewolf was mostly grey. the final product was a little off from the transformation. i did like both of them quite a lot though so i’m not that mad. see. look. kind of off. but it’s definitely not bad i can mostly see how one came from the other even though the colors might be a little different. it also sort of lacks in facial movement in its final form as it’s kind of stuck in that permanent snarl, but they did a good job softening its eyes in the final scene where alex is trying to get through to david. 9/10.

mid-transformation fully transformed

next up yeah i have stuff to say about the harry potter prisoner of azkaban remus lupin design. is it fuck ugly. yes. is it cgi. yes. is jk rowling responsible for it. yeah. however. is it kind of a creative take on the typical werewolf idea. i hate to say it. yes it is. it goes against the typical sorta big strong hunky beast werewolf, and i cant lie, i appreciate it. it’s unique and kinda haunting in its own way. i don’t like that it’s bald. but i like the boldness and well. they got creative. 6/10.

ugly fucking freak ⬆️

next i’m going back. way back. yes sir we’re looking at werewolf of london. from 1935. and the wolf man. from 1941. cause they look pretty similar and they’re both jack pierce so yeah i’m lumping them together. if you ask me these ones lean more to the side of wolfman than werewolf - they’re kind of just hairy guys. which is like fine i guess i just think they should put more emphasis on the wolf. i like the wolfman better than the werewolf of london, which makes sense, cause i know the guy playing the london one didn’t feel like sitting for makeup and so jack pierce got to do more on the second round i guess. however WHY was bela lugosi’s werewolf form a straight up wolf and not lon chaney’s? they don’t explain it. rude. they’re iconic of course but they are honestly not showstopping. 5/10.

werewolf of london the wolf man

alright we’re flashing back to the present with twilight!! yeah. ok so last time i was complaining about there being too much man and not enough wolf. or like. too much were? i don’t know. whatever. anyways. this time i’m complaining because it’s too wolf. that’s just. it’s just a big cgi wolf. i don’t like this. it’s boring. i don’t even have that much to say it’s just like. whatever. 2/10.

lame as hell ⬆️

now. i’m gonna get irritating here. next up is buffy the vampire slayer. now i love oz. i wanted to like the design i really did. and they started out off strong. well. strongER. it’s like. kinda bad. but it definitely looks like a wolf? and it’s. kind of person ish? i don’t know. they tried. the bodysuit is loose but it’s better than what’s to come so i have to give it like a tiny bit of respect. 4/10.

see? not great but could be significantly worse.

and it does get worse. so. let me speak. this is the worst thing i have ever seen in my entire goddamn life. that looks like a gorilla. there’s like barely any semblance of wolf on this other than that it has fur. i don’t understand why they decided to go in this direction it looks terrible. and the body suit part always looks loose as hell. it comes across as like an ugly gorilla mascot suit, and they make no effort to have it move in a remotely wolf-ish way. they usually just have it scuttling around like some sort of little freak. oz does not deserve this ugly shit. i love buffy and wanted to enjoy the werewolf episodes but lord have mercy. this sucks. whoever did this i’m gonna find you. 0/10.

oz (bad) evil bitch veruca (worse)

that’s all the werewolves i can think of right now actually. and it won’t let me add more pictures cause i’m on mobile. in conclusion an american werewolf in london did it best and every other depiction of a werewolf should be looking to that for inspiration. but fight me on these by all means i may have objectively correct werewolf opinions but that doesn’t mean i’m not open to discussion. thanks for watching #sparkleon

[mywrittengartgallery]

PEDRI -Elle a brisé son coeur sur moi

Words : 18,5k+

Warning : heavy angst, mention of depressed states, drug/alcohol use, mention of addictions

Summary : Pedro is losing himself, accepting the bone crushing feeling you would inflect on him because you had broken your heart, and he was on the receiving end of it. 

☁️ 

“Fuck, Pedri!” shouted Pablo as he threw his hands in the air, an annoyed expression stuck on his face. It wasn’t his first complaint of the day towards the midfielder and he was beginning to get fed up with the older’s lack of involvement in today’s training. Pedro nodded and went back to his former spot, tugging at his yellow bib as if the fabric was uncomfortable. He had lost the ball, offered an easy point to the other team, but he hadn’t seemed fazed by it one bit, which was unusual. Even if Pedro wasn’t the most demonstrative person and was actually from a calm nature, he would still let his frustration sip out with a grimace or a groan. None of it had happened today, not even the rise of a brow. And this indifference, that the islander was showing, just added to Pablo’s irritation, while the older was calm, the Sevillian was everything but that. He lived football through passion, even during practices, and someone not giving their whole was unbelievable to him. Especially if this person was Pedro. It was unusual and he probably should have questioned it, but he was young and he favored his bold angriness over some psychological reflection.

Robert passed the ball to Gavi, starting the game again. Pablo dribbled past Jules and he was finally near the goal, eyeing Marc-André with a quirk in his brow. Alejandro was coming onto him, he knew a tackle was also coming. He couldn’t keep the ball so he looked around, as fast as he could and caught a glimpse of Pedri who had miraculously gotten the memo. He passed him the ball, avoiding Balde’s tackled in a same movement. he sighed, happy with his strategy. However, it quickly faded when Jules tackled Pedro and stole the ball, now sending it to one of his team’s players. Pablo didn’t really care at this point, he was seeing red. It would be the third goal conceded to the other team thanks to Pedri. He huffed, and stomped towards the older who was still lying on the ground, grass staining his kit.

“What the fuck?” he attacked, looking down without an ounce of pity in his eyes. He hated losing, even though he knew it was only some practice and it wouldn’t mean anything at the end of the day, he hated the feeling of not being enough. And his team was an extension of himself, therefore he hated his team losing. He normally wouldn’t actually be this pressed but Pedri had gotten way too much on his nerves since this morning, and the cold weather wasn’t helping at all.

“Try to focus, you are playing like a fucking toddler!” he added, crossing his arms on his chest. Pedri had finally gotten up, his fists hidden under his sleeves.

“Stop screaming, you psycho...” he said, low tone and empty eyes looking right at Pablo. Pedro was ready to leave him right here and finally do something productive, or at least more productive than being screamed at by a boy two years younger than him. But the strong grip on his wrist prevented him from doing so.

“I’m the psycho?” Gavi asked, offended. “You are the one who’s not taking it seriously while it’s your damn job, Pedro! You are the one who put zero effort in this fucking training and acts like it’s fucking normal while it should be your fucking passion!” he was really working himself up on this, but Pedri’s behavior had been too much and Pablo couldn’t recognize him. “You are the fucking psycho!”

Pedro huffed and also crossed his arms over his chest, creating a barrier between himself and the younger. His brows had furrowed a long time ago and the blush he would normally sport thanks to the effort he would put in football was replaced by an angry red that was the telltale of the fuming rage he was feeling.

“You don’t even know what psycho means, Pablo! I did nothing that would make me a psycho, you on the other hand... You have been screaming hysterically for hours now, acting like a damn child throwing a tantrum. For what? For just some football! There are other things in life than football, maybe you should get your head out of your ass and take in your surroundings. And maybe buy a fucking dictionary?” alright he had mixed things up in his rant but god, he hated being on the receiving hand of harsh criticism. Pablo had been poking at him since they had arrived at training, telling him he did this or that wrong, that he wasn’t pushing himself like he should and it had just piled up. Pedro was suffocating under all of that. Of course, he knew he had been doing everything wrong from the moment he woke up to this moment right now, he knew he was somehow lethargic and it seemed like he couldn’t care less. But hearing it from the younger, he didn’t know why, he couldn’t take it. And if Pablo wanted to be childish, then Pedro would be.

“If you have to buy a dictionary for you to be relevant, then it means your football is not enough for the team. You are not doing enough!” the younger’s anger wasn’t dissolving anytime soon, everyone could see it. That’s probably why Robert tried to pull Pablo away, asking him to calm down with a firm voice. Pablo didn’t seem to care, too agitated to actually understand what the Pole was telling him. He wasn’t used to be this angry, especially against Pedri. The other had always made sure to deflate the situation, to keep Pablo calm even when they were fighting. Pedro hadn’t today. He had pushed Gavi further, and Pablo wasn’t sure where he was standing now, how to regulate his emotions.

‘You are not doing enough’ that’s the words Pedro had whispered back, feeling his world crumble because how could it not? His best friend had thrown the words that were the main insecurity in Pedri’s mind: not being enough, not doing enough, not meeting people’s expectations. His breath was caught in his throat and every voice around him were muffled by his own train of thoughts. He was not enough, he was doing everything wrong and hearing it only confirmed what he had been thinking for a few days now.

Pedro wasn’t reacting anymore, he hadn’t responded to Gavi, neither had he flinched when Sergio had put his hand on his shoulder. On the outside, he looked as stoic as one could, eyes completely void of emotions, everything perfectly concealed inside him. His fists had even loosened just like his frown. Maybe they should be worried at how well the Canarian was able to hold everything together, but no one noticed, no one cared about that. The fight was the only thought around the pitch.

“Pablo, watch your mouth! And please, learn how to manage your anger, we cannot have problems like that again!” said Xavi, who had finally taken things in hands. His gaze was strong as he looked deeply angry at Gavi. It looked like he wanted to add something, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut. The coach nodded at Robert so the Pole could take Pablo somewhere else, probably at another practice spot. As he let out a sigh, the legendary midfielder turned around while pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and looked at Pedro.

“He is right about one thing... You haven’t been great today. I usually expect more of you, Pedro. I will let it slide because a bad day can happen, but tomorrow you are at your top form.” Disappointment was sipping out of Xavi, rolling down his figure to come crashing against Pedri like hard waves, hitting him right where it hurt. He hadn’t found his words back, everything stuck in his pharynx. The only thing he was able to do was looking down, hands clasped behind his back as he took in every word, repeating them in his mind like a sermon he would have heard at church.

And that’s how Pedro went through the rest of training: on shaky legs and short breath. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, scared that his voice would break, and he would only look at his shoes because he knew that if he met anyone’s eyes, especially the caring ones, salty water would escape from them. So, he had closed himself off, shutting the world out and focused on football, counting the minutes until this hell would end.

---

Then he was home. His home dipped in silence. No lights could be seen, just the streetlights trespassing inside to create shadows on the floor. He felt cold like that, not recognizing his own place, so he quickly switched the lights on. He noticed that no shoes other than his littered the entry, no coat thrown on the couch, no food or drinks discarded on the kitchen island. That could mean two things and he wasn’t sure which one he favored. With these thoughts running a hundred miles an hour in his mind, he went up, making sure his stairs wouldn’t crack and waited in front of a closed door, in silence. Always. He had to calm himself down because he was working himself up and nothing good could come out of it. He took a shuddery breath and finally found the courage to open the seemingly heavier door than the day before.

What he saw was exactly what he had imagined. How could he still be disappointed when every time it was the same thing?

He sighed and slowly came closer, delicately placing one of your stray strands behind your ear to have a look at your face. Your mascara had been smudged, staining your normally rosy cheeks with its dark umbra. The deep frown you were sporting had seemed like a permanent thing for a while now and, even in your alcohol induced sleep, it wouldn’t leave. His insides churned at the thought, because nothing seemed to erase it, not even all his efforts. It wasn’t enough.

After another shaky breath, the midfielder tore his gaze away from your sight, the sight that would bring an unwanted feeling of anxiety, squeezing his stomach until bile could be felt at the back of his throat. He, instead, focused on your shoes that were still tightly tied on your feet, and with practiced fingers, he undid the knots and took the pair of sneakers off, quietly deposing them next to him. Then, he tried to shake you awake, eyes fixed on your shoulder, he wanted you to catch a sliver of consciousness so he could take off your coat and put you under the thick covers of his bed. But you wouldn't budge, it must have been an especially hard night, he thought. So, he did it all without your help, moving you around like a rag doll, blinking tears away when he would see your head loll a little. When he was done, he left for the bathroom to bring a blue basin that had whitened because of the bleach it would often meet. The corrosive substance used to disinfect the plastic material but mostly to get rid of the putrid smell that would float around. He had set the blue recipient on the floor, on your side of the bed and made sure that you were lying on your side, facing it. That’s how he left you, making sure to not fully close the door so he could hear if anything was going on, and stepped in the living room.

Everything seemed so cold and even with the TV on, Pedro felt as if a thick darkness was surrounding him. The sound was off, figures moving around the screen in total silence as lights changed from cold to warm to electric then back to cold. It reflected on the youngster’s face, highlighting the deep hollows under his dark eyes. It took just enough of Pedro’s attention to soften the edge that was poking at him. Just enough for him to not be entirely consumed by his intrusive thoughts that seemed to linger longer and longer every time. A kiss was shown under an orange sunset, them on the rooftop of some city: the girl had the most loving smile he had seen in a while and the man looked shy, blush high on his cheeks. He wanted to hate this scene, to resent it even, but he couldn’t even muster that.

Then he heard it, the wrenching sounds coming out of your throat followed by gags. He wasn’t even sure of how long it had lasted, time notion slipping right through his fingers, him unable to grasp at it. He just knew that when your session had been done, long seconds of silence had plagued the room before your sobs had resonated. It hadn’t been near as loud as the noises you had let out before, but it was harder for Pedri to hear. He unconsciously bit his lower lip as he stood up, turning off the TV and going up the stairs. He wasn’t even aware of his movements, too used to this charade. He could have predicted your curled up figure on the bed, your head tucked against the crook of your arm and tear tracks crackling on the skin of your cheeks. A bit of drool mixed with the acidic vomit caked the corner of your mouth because you hadn’t cared enough to wipe it. You hadn’t even registered his presence, even though he had slid under the covers, spooning you as he whispered words of affection. He had only one goal, it was soothing you. He would try until he would fall asleep of exhaustion.

---

The door on the passenger’s side slammed, making the small Mini Cooper tremble with the force of it. Pedro only rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics and sighed, before starting the car while Gavi fiddled with his seatbelt. It was raining hard, offering an easy way out for the two Barca’s midfielders as practically no fans were waiting for them. And even though he felt awful to think that, Pedro was glad to be left alone today, no touching, no screeching and no cameras in his face, catching his deep dark circles.

“So Fifa, is it?” asked the Sevillian. His tone was light, clashing with the mess of feelings spreading through Pedro’s chest. He was also glad for that, for Gavi. He wasn’t even aware of how much his cheerfulness meant to the older, how much he needed it to stay grounded. But Pedro wouldn’t tell him, not when it meant telling more to him. It was not his place, he thought. So, as he had been doing a lot recently, he kept his mouth shut and nodded, flashing a small smile in his direction. Gavi accepted it and toyed with Pedro’s playlist, trying to find anything that would suit his taste.

That’s how they found themselves on the road, stopping at red lights and starting again when the lights turned green, under the heavy droplets of water that fell with an incredible speed. Pedri wanted nothing more than to get to his house and make himself comfortable on his couch, Gavi next to him, screaming about his loss. A faint grin appeared on his lips when he thought about the moment, it felt so familiar, he was used to it and he couldn’t wait to live it once more. To beat the shit out of Pablo on the screen and annoy him while the other would whine and pout like a child. The lightheartedness of the situation made him dizzy, because he felt like it had been decades since he had spent a night with his friends, doing things without caring of tomorrow. His insides were trembling with impatience.

“I practiced, so don’t be too surprised if you lose Pedri!” Pablo was bathing in cheekiness, throwing it at the older without a care. But deep inside, he knew he would lose, because it really wasn’t Gavi’s thing, however, he felt the need to put a show on. Whatever work he would put in, the results would remain the same. It was all it took for Pedro’s former grin to widen and squint his eyes.

“Stay humble, it will soften the blow when I’m going to destroy you...” he retorted, avoiding a quick jab from the younger. He stifled a laugh because of how easy it was to rile up the other.

However, his smile faded as fast as the rain washed chalk drawings off on concrete, when an incoming call appeared on his Bluetooth station. The name, all too familiar, glaring at him, daring him to pick up. He really didn’t have another choice, so with a wide intake of air, he pressed the green emoticon and answered the phone, getting ready for whatever was to come, whatever Pablo would hear.

“Pedro?” Isabela’s voice was unsure, like saying his name was already the hardest thing to do. He knew she knew. He knew that she was aware of how much she had been asking of him lately, he knew that she knew she was putting another stone on the already shaky pile.

“Yeah?” he responded, with fake assurance. It was just an image to maintain for the moment.

“Could you come? It’s like last time...” and the strength in her words diminished after every words. He understood with ease what she was talking about. Without any further information, he turned left on the next intersection, avoiding the confused gaze of Pablo on him.

“She would probably feel better with you...” and he hated those words, the ones she felt obligated to add. Because he knew there was a deep truth to them, but he also knew that wasn’t all. He knew that it would be easier on everyone to come and get you. Easier on everyone but him. He gulped, nodding slightly but she couldn’t see him, and he wasn’t trusting his voice to not break so he kept his mouth tightly shut and hung up, not adding anything to what had already been said.

In the eyes of Pablo, the older had shut off, harboring a cold demeanor that hadn’t been there minutes ago. His eyes had become darker, steelier, as if he had built a wall around himself, so high he wasn’t sure how someone could see past it. And it worried the Sevillian. Pedri wasn’t the type to be this closed off, especially with him, even when they fought. There would be screams, harsh words and sarcasm to top it all, but silent treatment wasn’t one of their things. And when one of them was upset with something, they would talk it out. Pablo wasn’t sure how he should act with this Pedro, this Pedro that he didn’t know and had never met.

“What’s going on?” he dared to ask when he had not recognized the road they were taking. His voice had been soft, trying to not set off the older.

“Y/N doesn’t feel well, so I’m picking her up.” and that’s all the Canarian said. Not elaborating on the true reason he had to pick you up. Many questions were bursting into Gavi’s brain, but he couldn’t ask. He knew it wasn’t the moment, and he wouldn’t get answers anyway. In the end, he would see by himself what was going on when they would arrive.

That’s how a tense silence filled the car, putting Pablo on edge and making Pedro slightly panic. The sky was becoming darker, minutes passing, buildings changing colors under the downpour, people rushing to keep themselves dry, streetlights turning on. Then the car had stopped. In total silence, Pedro had unfastened his belt and put his hood up, opening the door. Pablo wasn’t sure what he should do, not even knowing where Pedro had brought him. He wasn’t familiar with his actual surrounding, no buildings looked like ones he had seen before and it was nowhere near where you lived. So, he had stayed inside, watching as Pedro took quick steps towards the entrance, getting drenched. Something wasn’t adding up.

And things felt even weirder when he saw Pedro exiting the building with you under his arm, trying to hold you up in a straight position. You were laughing under the rain, tripping over your own feet while making him lose his trajectory. The window was blurred with water, so Pablo couldn’t quite grasp Pedro’s expression, but the older didn’t seem as enthusiast as you. When the both of you got close enough, Pedro reached out to open the backseats door, while you leant against the green car. If the Canarian hadn’t had the fastest reflexes, you would have fallen in a dirty puddle: water mixed with fuel and dead leaves. He had slid his arm around your waist, bringing you against his side. You giggled, throwing your head back as if this had been the funniest thing you had lived. And that placed a smile on Pablo’s lips, your happiness contagious. Pedro had settled you in the back seat, fastening your belt and throwing your bag next to you. No words had been uttered.

You would spurt nonsenses at the back, gaining laughs from the youngest midfielder. The drunk-you was the funniest thing he had been blessed to see, thought Pablo as you explained another dumb thing that your mind had created. However, entranced by your idiocy, he hadn’t seen the way your boyfriend hadn’t reacted to anything that had left your mouth, not even a rise of a brow.

A light suddenly turned red, forcing Pedro to brake forcefully. Everyone in the car was slightly projected towards the front. This had you wheezing, and Pablo following. His nerves were getting eaten bits by bits by the sharp sounds and the puffs of air.

“That was rough babe!” you had exclaimed in a funny tone. You stretched your arms towards the back of his seat, sneaking your hands around until they met his tense shoulders. Your head had followed, making your voice loud and clear to him and Pablo.

“If you could get that rough in bed I wouldn’t say no, the opposite actually!” and if your words were slurred, they still cut right through him, like a blade meeting skin. Bile rose up his throat and if it wasn’t for Pablo’s laugh, he was sure you would have heard his sharp intake of air. “I mean, can you believe it, Pablo? He thinks he is going to hurt me, if anything I just ask for more spices! Like, vanilla is fucking boring...” and his knuckles turned white, gripping the wheel like his last lifeline resort. But no words would come out. Sometimes, Pedro thought he had used up all of the words in the world to say what he felt, there was nothing else out there he could mean. And anger was all that stayed, raging under his skin when he had nothing to express it. It was fueled by every sentence that left your mouth, every giggle and snicker, the outright mocking laugh of Pablo that was there to tease Pedro and his said vanilla habits in bed. And if he knew, if he knew that he was far from the vanilla portray you had depicted. He could be rough, shove you around when you asked, shock you with brutal waves and deprive you from a sense or two when he knew you needed it. It had been spicy, he could explore new things. But he couldn't hurt you, that was a limit he wouldn’t ever be able to cross. You asked for a lot, always more, you wanted to bruise in a nasty way, to bleed and soak the sheets red. You wanted tear tracks and gasps to find the air back. You wanted a monster that wasn’t Pedro, he wouldn’t give you that. So, he would deny it every time, shaking his head and leaving the room if you were too upset to do anything else with him. There were limits he wouldn’t cross, but you would always push for him to do so.

And if Pablo had known all of that, maybe he wouldn’t laugh but he would cry next to Pedro. Maybe he wouldn’t be trying to stabilize his breathing right now while Pedro was patiently trying to keep his calm, biting the inside of his cheek. Only a frown was visible on his impeccably neutral face, the deaf role played perfectly. That’s only when Pablo had caught on that, that his laugh vanished and a confused expression painted his features. Why was he annoyed?

You continued to throw harsh words hidden behind jokes and light tones, giggling and requesting the follow of Pablo. But the younger was now hesitant, politely grinning at you but softening when his eyes would dart to the Canarian. He was more than worried now.

When he parked the car, Pablo asked if Pedro wanted his help to get you up the stairs, until you reached his apartment. He had refused, with only a shake of his head, before gently grabbing your arm and firmly holding your waist, giving everything to make you walk straight, even if it had costed him to bump his arm or hip on walls. Pablo didn’t understand why his friend was so obstinate to do this on his own. It only added to this weird uneasiness blooming inside him. But he hadn’t dared commenting on it, sensing the abrupt refusal he would face. Now he just looked at Pedro, hosting you up the stairs of his apartment once you had finally gotten inside. You would use your hand to hold yourself up against the wall, letting your nails graze the white surface. No movements of Pedro were harsh or rough, only gentleness filled his motion. But his face was still closed off, none of his features had softened since the call. Pablo feared that the deep frown creeping in the middle of the width between his brows would stay permanently like this. He didn’t like the idea, because it would make his joyful expressions less sparkling, they would be faded. He hated it, actually. But he hadn’t said anything as he had watched, standing in the middle of his living room.

He tried to analyze the room, wanting to know if something had changed. something had definitely changed in his best friend’s demeanor. He just couldn’t quite grasp it and it was starting to freak him out. Maybe answers would be there? His apartment was still spotless, nothing out of place. The same pictures were hung on the wall, with his family, with his brother, with his friends, with his teammates, with you. You... He tripped on the thought. Maybe your relationship wasn’t as thriving as he thought? He knew it was healthy to fight for two lovers, it helped to express hidden feelings and to actually improve the relationship. But were you fighting too much? Or Pedro just hadn’t liked you getting drunk at your friend’s place. You were old enough to make your decisions and to enjoy a night with your friends. But the older was a fan of control. He hated losing it and not be able to understand his surrounding or be out of his depth, it would make him anxious the next morning when he would remember things he wouldn’t have normally done sober. He wouldn’t say anything to his friends when they would let go, had never lectured Pablo for getting shit faced at a party. Yet again, you weren’t Pablo. The youngest was sure you were the love of Pedro’s life, you were one of his source of happiness and maybe he just wasn’t used to see you like that. He could understand where his best friend was coming from: it’s hard to let your lover make potentially dangerous decisions, especially if it meant not recognizing them.

However, his thoughts were soon interrupted when he heard a door being softly closed and feet hitting the floor. Pedro was going down the stairs, avoiding any eye contacts with Pablo. He was holding a plaid and his pillow, his lips still sealed. He had gotten used to silence at this point, again, not daring asking questions. The older of the two threw the poor bedding on his couch, not caring arranging it nicely and then, finally, looked up to meet Pablo’s eyes. He had never seen these brown orbs this void of emotions, or drained. Maybe this word was more appropriate, Pablo thought, as he saw nothing inside. There had been something there before, it had been taken away.

“It’s a little bit complicated tonight, I’m sorry... Is it okay if I bring you back at your place?”

Pablo could only nod, he wouldn’t impose his presence to him. He wouldn’t put something else on Pedro’s already heavy shoulders.

“Are you going to sleep there?” and that’s the only thing he dared asking, the only thing that scratched enough the surface to give an idea of the depth of it all to Pablo.

“Yes.” and that was it. The only word that had left the midfielder’s mouth, in a hushed tone, before he grabbed back his keys and went to the door. Wanting to get as fast as he could to his car. Pablo followed, a feeling of urgency overwhelming his senses. Why all of it felt so abnormal. Why did it feel like he was discovering something that had been rotting away for some time already?

He had scratched the surface, now he wanted to dig. In a swift motion, he grabbed the other’s forearm and tugged on it, making hum turn around, just enough for their eyes to meet again.

“If you need anything, I’m here Pedro.”

---

“You okay alone ?”

Pedro had asked that with a concerned tone, worry sipping out of him. Pablo couldn’t hear what you had answered, but your words had slightly calmed his friend down. A sigh had escaped his chapped lips and his hand that had been gripping a handful of the blanket fabric had loosened.

Gavi frowned at those words, looking up at Pedro who was face timing you. He had his hood up while lying under the sheets of his bed. Xavi had made them room together for this clàsico, maybe the coach had sensed the weird thing going on with Pedro. Maybe he had thought that Gavi would be the solution, but clearly the younger wasn’t even aware of how he could help.

“We will talk tomorrow ?”

Another thing you had said that Pablo couldn’t hear. But Pedro had ended the face time not moving, weirdly focused on a spot on the wall. The shadows under his eyes had never been darker, and Pablo did try to find possible reasons that wouldn’t directly mean that his friend had a hard time sleeping. Pedro had been used to the Canary’s sun, the hot weather in winter and so had been his skin. He had probably lost his glow because he hadn’t been getting enough vitamin D, so on his now pale skin, the dark circles were darker, bluer. Or maybe it was the beard accentuating it. But Pablo was aware that it was just thoughts to comfort himself, because he had seen Pedro last year, and the year before and he hadn’t ever looked this tired, this grey. He sighed, and stood up wanting to meet the older boy on his bed. To talk? He wasn’t sure, but the nerves under his skin were pushing him to do something, anything. As he was about to move, asynchronous knocks were heard on their door with what he assumed was Ferran’s voice booming behind it. Bad timing, he thought.

With another sigh, he deviated his former trajectory to go and open the door. Pedro hadn’t reacted one bit at the ruckus. It had made his insides churn, it wasn’t normal. However, he quickly put the thought away, he would have time to dissect it later. Now, he had to manage his older friends who had five years old mindsets. He swung the door open, frowning at Ansu and Ferran who were standing outside in Nike slippers and barça’s tracksuits. The tallest of the two had a wide smile, proudly shaking his Playstation’s controller while Ansu was behind, a smile just as big and hands in his pockets.

“Hello hello, lover boys. We’re here to kick your ass on Fifa!” said Ferran, nudging Pablo so he would move aside, allowing them to enter. They did so, throwing themselves on Gavi’s bed and already fiddling with the TV.

“Eric and Ale should come down in half an hour, they were going to take showers when we asked them.” Added Ansu before turning his attention on Pedro. The said boy had barely acknowledged them, too focused on his phone for that. This had Ansu frowning.

Pablo nodded, dejected. He loved his friends, but he had wanted to talk and get things straight with Pedro, to finally know what is eating his friend away. They couldn’t read a room and he should’ve said something but that meant admitting to other people that something was clearly wrong with their midfielder. He wasn’t sur how much aware they were of the situation, or if they had noticed anything at all. He hadn’t wanted to explain it, in a rush, while Pedro was on his bed not even ten meters away. But now, he wished he had because they were being their hyperactive selves and it seemed like they couldn’t feel the tension in the room.

“Pedri! You playing?” asked Ansu, desperately wanting some sort of reaction from the younger. His frown hadn’t budged but his smile was still there, forming an unusual expression on his youthful face.

“Ask Pablo…” if the other 2002’s smile had slightly faltered, he had tried to hide it as fast as possible. He shrugged, feigning indifference and turning around so he could face the TV. Ferran had finally plugged his controller in and chosen his team. In the end, Pablo and Ferran played together for a while, the older winning easily. Ansu had excused himself, saying they were already making themselves at home in the two midfielders’ room, so he should let the youngest enjoy some videogames. Pablo was far from thankful for this, the older had just turned him away from his frenetic watch over Pedro. He had been so close to prod at Pedri’s bruises, so, so close, and now he was sure he would be back to square one once they would leave. Because that’s how it would always work with the islander: him letting one of his many defenses fall, allowing a glimpse of what would trouble his mind, just so he could rebuild his wall higher, thicker. And every second used to delay the feared conversation, was a step away from the issue.

What Gavi didn’t know, was that Ansu had taken over. He had settled himself across Pablo’s bed, facing Pedro’s, head propped up on his forearms as he analyzed him. The uneasiness he had felt regarding Pedro only deepened the more he took him in. He saw what Pablo saw, the dark circles, the exhausted look in his dark eyes, the mussed hair that would normally fall in small curls bathed in sea water across his forehead, his unusual paleness. But most of all, the constant frown that had settled between his dark brows, how it had created a small crease there, only adding to the pure weariness the younger was displaying. He wasn’t a frowner, nor a pouter, he was so open with his face, giving out shy smiles and sparkling gaze to everyone. Even when he had arrived in Barcelona, two or three years ago, Ansu wasn’t sure, he had never looked so worn out. It had been hard though, he had had to get used to the life in the mainland, especially in Barcelona where everything was stressful, always setting higher expectations. He only had his brother with him, leaving his family and his childhood friends on his small Island, hours away. Homesickness had been the main theme in the first months of his life there and Ansu had watched all of it happen right in front of his caring eyes, the way his smiles wouldn’t reach his eyes, the way he would linger on his phone when everyone would celebrate with their families. He knew how hard it could get, had went through La Masia and had given up on a big part of his childhood for his dream, but he thought that separating from what you had always known was harder the older you got. It must have been harder for Pedri, in that sense. Still, hope found a way to sip out of his irises, reassuring everyone who worried over him. They knew he was strong and was only falling under the long process of adjusting.

Ansu had also been there during the hellish year 2021 had been, for him and for Pedro. The amount of time the younger had spent on the field was astronomical, a little too much for the lack of reward it had brought. All of this for nothing. Obviously, it had taken a toll on the midfielder, how could it not when you give so much but receive so little? Yet, soft smiles and promises for a better future had slipped from his lips, again, reassuring everyone around him.

But what Ansu had in front of him was nothing he had known or seen yet, and he wasn’t sure how he should go about it. Sure, he had been there during these tough times before, had offered a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, and had found ways to comfort the younger. But he had never really been his first confident, Pedro reserving this role to Ferran principally, maybe Gavi now. But with the lack of concern the Valencian was showing, he wasn’t even sure Pedro was actually confiding in someone. This thought formed a knot in his stomach.

Pedri’s phone lit up again, deepening the frown already there and this caught the forward’s attention. This also was a new habit, being an awful lot on his phone. This was some type of addiction usually attributed to Pablo, who could never leave his phone even to go to the toilets, but Pedro had always been more laidback, able to separate from it easily. The artificial hit his tired features, weirdly showing off the storm of emotions dancing in his eyes, normally so well concealed. He was typing fast, chewing on his bottom lip while he waited for something, a text maybe? Ansu noted how he seemed to get even more closed off. He hated this feeling of being too far to reach him all the while being so close. When did their Pedro build this high wall between him and them? Somehow, this had to stop and Ansu knew what he had to do. He copied the midfielder by swiftly taking out his phone, texting Alejandro to wait for them in their room, changing the place of their Fifa tournament. Then, he proceeded to nudge Pablo with his covered foot, showing him the text. He knew that Pablo was more aware about the issue than all of them combined. Despite the credit people gave him, the youngest was observant and had set his eyes on Pedro practically as soon as all of that began. Pablo was aware and wanted to make things right again, so Ansu decided to help. A flash of understanding passed by his pupils before he nodded, conveying his gratefulness with a tight squeeze on his thigh.

“What are you both gossiping about?” chimed in Ferran, seeing how Pablo had turned his attention somewhere else, letting him score a goal without a complaint. He squinted at the duo, trying to pry the electronic device from Ansu’s hands.

“Nothing, Ale asked if we could meet up in our room, his lazy ass doesn’t want to come down.” Lying was bad, not in phase with his religion, but he believed God would forgive him for this white lie if it meant allowing some peace to their friend. Well, at least he hoped so.

“Really? But we’re all set there!”

“Yeah, but Ale doesn’t want to play if he has to move around, plus Eric is siding with him… It won’t be fun if it’s just the three of us.” Ferran had to stop there because Ansu was a bad liar and he was not sure he could keep up if another question was asked.

“I’m on this with Ansu, and Eric is the only one I’m sure I can beat, so…”

With the help of Pablo, Ferran gave up and agreed, turning off the TV and retrieving his things scattered around the room. A wave of relief hit the two youngsters.

When both intruders were finally out of the room, Pablo turned around, eyeing Pedro. He hadn’t moved one bit, still huddled under the heavy blankets of his bed, hood on and eyes fixated on his phone. The Sevillian sighed and came closer, quickly snatching it from his hands. This caused the other midfielder to look up, anger showing on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“You need to sleep, you look like a zombie. This means you have to let go of that one.” He said, shaking it in front of the other’s eyes. “I’m taking this up with me just to be sure you sleep. You will get it back when you wake up.” He added, tone firm. Pedro knew he wouldn’t be able to negotiate and he hadn’t enough energy to try to fight Pablo on this. So, he sighed, pissed off, and slid further down his bed, turning around so only his back was visible. Pablo hated doing this, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Even if it meant being slightly hated by his best friend.

When he came back, three hours later, Pedro was waking up. He had tried to be as quiet as possible, but the heavy hotel door was anything but that. Pedro was a light sleeper, Pablo had anticipated that. Still, he didn’t turn the lights on, didn’t talk until he heard Pedro’s voice. Small. Unsure.

“Thank you.” That’s all he had said when the younger had finally sat down on his bed. Pablo looked up confused, not sure what this was about since he couldn’t decipher the older’s expression through the penumbra. Sensing that Pablo wouldn’t answer, Pedro continued. “For making me rest.”

“It’s alright”

Then, silence covered the room. The two were facing each other, not knowing what to say, if there was anything more to say to begin with. Anxiousness could be felt, tensed movements and breath held in. This was uncomfortable and unusual for the both of them. But Pedro was sitting there, head hanging, toying with his fingers, probably hurting the inside of his cheeks with his teeth, and Pablo understood that this had nothing to do with him. That’s probably why he stood up and went to the other bed, sitting next to him. He slid under the covers, four feet bumping together. Everything was easier when you didn’t have to face the difficulties frontally.

“Isabela sent many texts…” he hadn’t brought up the phone yet, but he had to talk about it at some point. Perhaps, beginning with this was the best way to get something out of Pedro.

“Hmm?”

“You both seem close”

“We are not.” Pedro had defended himself directly, slamming the idea down as fast as possible.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Like that silence returned, sitting there like a king on its throne. Pablo hated silence. They waited and waited. Someone had to break first and the Sevillian was impressed by the way Pedro was holding on, like used to this.

“I believe this has something to do with Y/N… That’s what I meant.”

“Hmm”

And God, did he hate it when he didn’t receive straight answers. But this lack of direct response was the hint he needed to know that he had hit the nail. That’s why Pablo pushed, and pushed and pushed, prodding and toying with words just to put his fingertips on the guarded truth inside of his best friend’s heart. He kept going until the other would break, until the questions would be too much for him. And it had seemed like an eternity before the older let out a faint trace of reality. He had said it with all the calmness he had, concealing his emotions like a professional, explaining all sort of things. Allowing Pablo to meet his deepest insecurities, fears even.

He wasn’t enough, didn’t feel like enough. He felt like his shoes were too big for him, the world too wide and like everyone around him saw it. He wasn’t enough for you, hadn’t been for a while and whether it’s his fault or not didn’t change a thing, he couldn’t do more and you had distanced yourself from him for that. He felt alone, had been left alone in his apartment, dotted with traces of you. And he wasn’t even enough for himself now, unsure of what to do, there by himself. He also knew he was vanishing little by little from his friends’ backgrounds, not being present enough, hiding away. He wasn’t enough for his friends. And even in football, he wasn’t enough, for the team, for his fans, for his teammates. All of that was weighing him down and he was waiting for the breakpoint.

Pablo understood, knew he had had a part to play in that. He knew words could affect someone and he knew, while angry, he could throw them without a care, slicing through the other’s skin. He felt incredibly guilty right at this moment. He remembered what he had said weeks ago, using these exact words to describe Pedro, wanting to hurt as much as possible to vent his frustration. He hadn’t known, never would he have said that if he had an idea of what was going on inside his friend’s head. But these words had left his mouth and had hit right where he had aimed at. They hadn’t talked for days after that, yet it had still been Pedro who had come back, asking for a truce, always the mature one. It made something churn in his stomach, so ugly and uneasy. Pedro had gone to him, put aside his overwhelming worries, just to get his Gavi back. The more he thought about it, the worse it was. He had pushed his friend further down the dark alley the young man had already been pried in.

An apology was on the tip of his tongue, screaming to be said. But he kept his mouth shut, not sure if he had to make this about this fight, about himself. Pedro was next to him, putting all his energy into keeping his tears at bay, forbidding them to fall.

Now, Pablo wasn’t even sure if he could touch him to relieve him from this burden, even a little bit. Touches were his love language, using it to sooth people around him and to show them how much he cared. But that wasn’t Pedri’s.

Pablo didn’t know what it was now.

---

“Y/N...” the way he had dragged your name had you looking up from the couch, brows furrowed. You tried a smile, making it as natural as possible, wanting to ease the closed off expression on your boyfriend’s face. It hadn’t worked. He had sat down on the floor, in front of the couch, but had let quite the distance between the two of you. His knees were up in way that allowed him to circle them with his arms. You copied him, feeling as if it was the right thing to do. One of the right things you could do, for him? Maybe.

“I saw Isabela’s story.”

How much you had hoped that he hadn’t.

Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes when you connected the dots, when you understood what it meant. You wouldn’t let them fall though, it wasn’t your right to do so. Maybe, that could be the thing you owed him. Strength and honesty.

“Why?” the way he had croaked out this small word told you how much strength it had taken from him, he felt drained. He hadn’t ever known how much a word could represent and hold, before.

You were looking at him without moving, trying to swallow a sob that was coming up your throat, ready to erupt and break the silence that enveloped the room. You had no answers, or maybe you had but you refused to force them on Pedro. His ears should never meet your rotten words. It would be unfair. He was such an important part of your life, the healthiest one. He was your anchor, the one that kept you afloat when the waves hit you so harshly that it felt like you were drowning. But every time, he would hold on tightly, for the both of you because, of course, you couldn’t help but drag him with you, down in the Abyss that was the nauseous path of your life. He had never complained, always mediating things and reassuring you. How much longer before you would be the one drowning him?

“Please, YN...”

You hadn’t known your heart could break again. You had pushed him so far, he had to let out pleas. You were a monster, how could you put him through that? Why did he stay? The heartbreaking sound that had passed his mouth was enough to finally let the tears flow, running down your pale cheeks. Your eyes hadn’t dared leaving his, but you wished you had. Because, right at this moment, you were seeing how much you had taken from him. His beautiful, hazel eyes, were supposed to hold the world, shine under the soft sun rays and sparkle at everything. They weren’t supposed to look this somber, like nothing could bring back the amused glint that made you fall in love. They weren’t supposed to look like they had been drained from everything they held, and now only two dots remained on a fatigued face. You took a deep breath, wanting to calm down so you could explain. He at least deserved that. He deserved so much more. Through the tears, you had opened your mouth, working around your abused vocal cords and the lump that felt all too suffocating.

“I wasn’t myself, I was stoned and drunk and he was there.” another intake of air filled your lungs. You could feel a sharp sting on your thumb where you had torn a dead skin, blood circling your nail by trailing down its curve. “I was so lost, Pedro. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I needed to feel something and I don’t know why my brain didn’t scream at me when I agreed. I regret it!”

He had turned his head, preferring the sight of the foot of the couch rather than your curled up form. You were able to see his knuckles, white from the force he was gripping his elbows with. Now, unable to see his eyes, you understood you had lost the right to delve into his soul. It had been only a question of time, he should have taken that right from you a long time ago.

“You have to believe me when I say that! I regret it, I don’t know why I did it! But you have to believe me, Pedro!” and sobs were racking your body, making your voice tremble. You had never been this desperate. You wanted him to know that you were beating yourself up over that. That he was irreplaceable, the most important constant in your life, and nothing that had happened last night meant a thing next to him. You hated yourself for it, for everything you had done. “Please, believe me.”

“How far did you two go ?”

His voice was uneven and if his hands were shaking, you tried to erase it from your memories. Because you couldn’t be the one to bring him to this state. He couldn’t be your relief in life while you were his poison. That’s why you had diverted your eyes, instead focusing them on the fabric of your jeans. It was uneven, or maybe it was the thick droplets your eyelashes had collected that made it hard to see. Silence was filling the room and you knew you had to explain yourself, he deserved it. But you were such a coward, he should have known by now.

“Ok...” and the sigh he had let out, murmured and shaky, made you look up. He couldn’t stay with false information. He couldn’t believe what his mind had created, even though your truth wasn’t much better.

“We... It wasn’t all the way” God, why was it impossible for your voice to be stable ? You hated yourself for looking this weak when you should be the figure of force, you had inflected such pain on him. You should be rotting in hell, not sitting here, in front of him while you knew he was only waiting to understand. You knew he was too good for you, too good to be in your life. He hadn’t moved one bit. “It was just some teasing, with our hands...” you had whispered the last part, feeling incredibly ashamed by the person you were. You were describing the foreplay you had done with a random guy to your boyfriend, the boy you were supposed to love. You had to hide most details, you couldn’t hurt him more. He should never know how much you had enjoyed it, easily chanting a name that wasn’t his, easily adapting to another body. What was so wrong with you, that you couldn’t deny having taken pleasure with someone else while perfectly knowing you were inflicting torture on Pedro.

He had snorted. Had shaken his head.

“Just some teasing...”

"That’s not what I wanted to say!” you exclaimed, seeing how awful your phrasing had made it look like. It hadn’t been nothing. “We didn’t make love, Pedro.”

“I hope so. Making love is normally reserved to the people you actually love. I do hope I’m still that to you.”

His voice had been so cold. You had never heard his voice be this flat, not letting out any emotions. Your Pedro was supposed to be an open book, venting his frustration when he needed to and always having this mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, his voice a testimony of his usual happiness. Your tears had stopped when you had heard his tone, so shocked that you didn’t know how to respond.

“Am I, though?”

The question hurt so much more than everything else because you were slowly becoming aware that your betrayal hadn’t only been a physical one, but you had pushed him so far that he wasn’t even sure that you loved him. However, your lack of answer told him the opposite of what you were feeling. His guard came up, so high, higher than you had ever seen. You quickly stood up, wobbly on your legs and breath short. One step, a second one, and a final third before you finally squatted down so you could be eye to eye. Your shaky hand took a hold of his but you knew he wasn’t responsive. Usually, his fingers would caress the back of your hand in slow and small circles. It was just a dead weight now, one you were desperately holding on.

“I do! I love you so much, Pedro!” and sobs were being inserted between your words. “You are the love of my life.”

The way he had retracted his hand when you had said the intimate sentence, the one usually whispered in between your bedsheets, secured in the dark of the night and only your two breaths present, was all you needed to understand how fucked up all of it was. His frown had deepened but you knew that it was to make the tears pass, so he could go back to being the strong young man, stable and healthy, Pedri everyone knew. He pushed himself up so he could stand, taking steps back away from you. He had never felt farer.

“Forgive me, please” sobs wracked your body. Your hands were twisting the fabric of the dark hoodie you were wearing, crinkling it. “I will do anything, literally anything! I can’t live without you.”

Pedro shook his head, thinking, racking his brain with confusing thoughts. He passed a hand on his face, letting a shaky sigh out before ruffling his hair. Those were his anxious tics, you knew it. His curls were a mess, his fringe sticking to his forehead and with the way some strands seemed to stick out, it was evident he had tugged on them. And that broke you, completely, unforgivingly, shattered your heart and all the butterflies that Pedro had introduced to your stomach. They had all died with his trust and faith. Now you were a shell that had sheltered his love, your heart a Roman pit displaying the remnants of your relationship, buried under months of hurt and distance. You had done this, just like Pompei had shrouded Napoli with its thick cover of ashes, suffocating every ounce of life there was. Maybe, in the years to come, you would find perfectly conserved pieces of what you had had with Pedro, but now you could only see devastations, what you had selfishly destroyed.

“I can’t do it if you’re not there” you had whispered it and you knew, that you were again putting it on his shoulders. Asking for more, taking more than you should ever have in the first place. But how could you help it? He was your anchor, one of the rare things that still linked you to life. He knew it too. You hated holding him with that, using culpability and fear, but you had to. You weren’t sure you would survive if not.

“We never talk about that again, ever. Tomorrow, we will pick up where we were, and this has never happened.”

As his words had left his mouth, he left, not looking at you, never. He hadn’t slammed the door, just shutting it softly so only the faint click could be heard. He had bent, and weirdly, this made you feel even guiltier. There hadn’t been shouts, nor violent movements, just pure sadness in sideration.

That night, you went to bed, sliding under the thick blanket but still feeling cold and you had inhaled his scent on his designated pillow, not messing his side of the bed so when he would come back, he would make himself comfortable. You didn’t want to refuse him his pleasures. That night, you fell asleep looking at your window, trying to see if you could see his shadow reflecting on the road’s concrete, if he ever passed under the streetlight right under your room. That night, you fell asleep without ever knowing that he had come back, hours later, getting next to you but not daring touching you. That night, you were sleeping while he was awake.

---

“Is your brother in town ?” the physiotherapist asked Pedro. The midfielder looked away, his gaze fixed on the space the door wasn’t hiding. he could see the corridor and the staff moving around, his teammates still on the pitch.

“No, he’s coming back in a week I think... He had to help my parents at the restaurant.” he shrugged as he let himself be prodded at, poked around and stretched. He hated this part of his job, even though he knew his body needed it, especially now, with an injury straining his muscles, burning under his skin. The physio sighed as an apologetic expression appeared on her face.

“Do you have anyone who could stay with you? I believe that you can’t really put pressure on your thigh for now and I would be reassured if I knew you would be staying with someone who could keep you still.” she continued, pressing at the front of his thigh with cold fingers. It had stung, so hard, but in a fucked-up way, he relished in that. The way every press of fingers felt like needles piercing his skin.

“I will find someone.” he said, not meeting her eyes, still focused on the corridor. If he had watched her face, he would have seen the deep frown, the worried feeling emanating from her green orbs, everything that transpired concern. But he hadn’t. She knew injuries weren’t that greatly accepted by players, especially the younger ones, but Pedro was usually calm and mostly collected. It was rare to see him so out of touch with his own emotions. She didn’t like it, and she wanted to know that he wouldn’t withdraw himself from the rest of the team during his healing time. She knew how the new generation, Gavi, Baldé, Ansu, him, felt like no mistakes were allowed and wanted to give their best. She knew that an injury meant time off, she wanted them to relativize. It was easier said than done.

She let him off the hook so he could go change, and maybe process everything that had happened and would most likely happen. He had limped towards the changing room, accepting in silence the half hugs of the staff and the encouraging words, only nodding and trying to smile. Once inside the large room, alone, he sighed and began to take off his kit, wanting a warm shower.

The hot droplets of water hit his skin, sliding down every bump and crease, some would trail at the tip of his fingers, holding on before letting themselves fall and crashing against the white tiles. His brown curls were flattening against his forehead, long enough to peak in front of his eyes. He knew the physio was right, he shouldn’t stay alone. He was already mobilizing his thigh by standing there when he should stay sat. But he couldn’t call you, ask you that. You were already a mess, Pedro was the one who was supposed to take care of you. He couldn’t demand that of you when you were struggling so much. So, he would keep you free, and not put something else on you. He hoped that Ferran would be alone this week, until his brother came back, so he could at least dare to ask him if he could stay at his place to keep an eye on him. How was he going to make sure you were safe ? Another worry settled under his skin, it all felt too much.

When the skin of his fingers had wrinkled and the hotness of the water hadn’t seemed to be enough to warm him up, he decided to get dressed. His movements were slow, careful to not abuse his thigh. Socks on, shoes tied, hood up. He was now sitting on the bench, inside the changing room, waiting for his teammates to come back. He hadn’t checked his phone once, not wanting to see worried messages from his parents or pity comments on social medias. His ears perked up when he heard the happy chatter of his team in the corridor. There were shouts of “vamos” and laughters. He would have lied if he had ever said that right at this moment, his insides weren’t painted green with jealousy. He wanted to be out there, with them, celebrating and chanting Barça. He wanted the carefree spirit that seemed to surround them and bath in the same light as they were. He wanted so much, had dared to take it at some point, but now he seemed content with the sour taste of envy and didn’t care enough to try to grab it too. So, he stayed there, waiting for them to burst in the room, all sweaty. And they did, seconds later, with wide smiles and jerseys already off.

“Sorry for your injury bro, hope it’s not too serious!” Ansu said, genuine worry visible in his eyes as he patted Pedri’s shoulder. He had been the first one to come closer, and break Pedro’s bubble by touching him.

“It should be okay... They want to run more tests though.” He tried to show confidence, wanting to keep all of them collected when he was falling apart himself. That was enough to satisfy the foreword who had let out a “thank god” with an appeased smile. He had left to change not long after. And a chorus of the same questions and remarks followed, each by a different player, even Xavi. He answered the same way, for each of them. He knew the coach would have his medical file anyway, they would discuss it later.

Ferran finally entered, a wide smile playing on his lips and eyes shining. His facial expression had softened once his eyes had settled on Pedro’s form, but the glint was still there. he came closer, his jersey hanging on his shoulder. “You good?” he had asked, squatting down so he could entirely face the midfielder. Pedro couldn’t really lie to him, Ferran had been such a constant in his life that he felt like he owed him the truth. However, the words of truth wouldn’t live his mouth, so he shrugged, sighing heavily. The older nodded, trying to put himself in his friend’s shoes, squeezing the other’s knee. He wasn’t sure what else he could add to that other than offering a needed silence to his best friend.

“What’s gotten you so happy?” Pedro decided to ask, wanting to switch topics and divert the attention to Ferran. He wanted to know why he was happier than ever, surely his joy could be felt miles away.

“Sira came to the game and I saw her just before... You know, it had been some time since we last saw each other, so you know... Got me feeling all mushy inside!” he had laughed while saying the last part of his sentence, a faint blush painting his cheeks. Pedro didn’t know. It had been a while since he had felt all ‘mushy inside’ because of you.

“Oh...” he frowned, avoiding the other’s eyes. “I thought she had to be away for a competition ?”

“Oh, yeah! Well, it had been delayed because the weather is way too harsh out there right now.” Ferran had said that while throwing his sweaty jersey on the floor, right where the others were. It had created a pile of smelly, red and blue fabrics, all wet and scrunched up. “I’m so happy man, you have no idea!”

And Pedro had tried to give him one of his bright smiles, he really had. But it had seemed all too hard to do, too close to fake. He had only been able to muster a faint grin. He was relieved to know that Ferran was so absorbed in his own bubble of love that he hadn’t detected the deflect on Pedro’s shoulders. neither the trembling sigh that had left his lips once he had decided to leave him alone in order to get changed.

He surely couldn’t ask Ferran to stay at his. Not now. He had madly missed Sira, always complaining about the remaining days that kept them apart. And Pedro wouldn’t ever steal this moment from him, the moment where he could finally reunite with the girl he loved so much that he had completely changed for her. Pedro wouldn’t dare take that away. It’s okay, really. He would just do it on his own, a week wasn’t that long. He could easily spare his thigh during this short amount of time. He had to plan it all, but he could do it. And a white lie wouldn’t hurt the physio, he hated not being honest, especially with people who were there to care for his health but he didn’t really have any other choice anyway.

He had stood up, readjusting his hood. He was ready to leave, wanting to be as quick as possible back at home to crash in his bed and sleep it all away, until next morning. However, the firm hand on his forearm had prevented him to do so. With furrowed brows, he looked up, finding Pablo standing in front of him, wet hair from his shower and practically fully dressed.

“Wait for me...” he said, eyes boring into his, as if trying to make his point across.

“Wasn’t Aurora supposed to bring you home ?” he was sure he had seen the oldest Gavira before the game had begun, he was also sure that Pablo had told him not to wait for him once the game was done. The younger shook his head while sitting down in order to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, but we need to grab your things at yours, so I’m going with you.”

“What are you talking about, Pablo ?” Pedro’s brain was slow, slower than it should be and he couldn’t quite grasp what his best friend was saying. He had an idea nagging at the back of his brain, but he certainly didn’t want to entertain it. Not when he had resigned himself just minutes ago.

“Well for your stay, obviously. I love you bro, but I don’t really feel like offering you my closet, especially my boxers, that’s crazy disgusting.” and Pedro had still a confused frown etched on his face, eyeing Pablo as if he was spouting nonsense. Gavi sighed, eyes softening at the lost sight of the Canarian. “The physio asked Xavi with whom you were staying. Sira is here, and I know you, I know you would hate it, putting yourself between them and since you aren’t one to ask for help, I’m doing it for you.” he rented while messily tying his shoes, knots weirdly formed but apparently it worked for him. “You’re staying at mine, and I won’t take ‘no’ as an answer.” he finally declared, standing up again to face Pedro.

Silence was what got Pablo after his long speech. The older hadn’t moved an inch, but his face showed how much he was absorbing all of these words. Pedro had thought about asking Pablo, when he had understood that Ferran’s place wasn’t going to be possible. But he couldn’t rely on the younger too much. He was young, so young, and having Pedro staying at his place seemed like a burden. Pedro felt like a burden and he would hate it to be Gavi’s ankle ball. He was younger, by two years, and if anything, it was Pedro who should take care of him. Pedro had to take care of a lot of people, he knew it, and Pablo was one of them. The other way around was barely acceptable in his mind. So, he had resigned himself and decided to not ask, avoid the topic overall with the Sevillian. But he hadn’t thought of how relieving it would be, to not have to ask and to have someone do it for him. Pablo had taken care of him without asking, without demanding of him to make the effort and ask for help. It was such a weird feeling that a thin shin of water had gathered at the corner of his eyes. If Pablo had seen it, he wouldn’t be one to comment on it.

Just like he wouldn’t comment on the whispered ‘thank you’ he had received in the car, when they had collected a bag full of Pedro’s things, on their way to Pablo’s. Just like he wouldn’t comment on why staying at yours wasn’t a possibility. Just like he wouldn’t comment on why Pedro hadn’t even mentioned you.

Pablo had a heart made of gold, he proudly wore it on his sleeve and prided himself on understanding other’s feelings thanks to it. Pedro thought that nothing in the world could be truer than that.

His murmured ‘thank you’ wasn’t just for the coming week. It was for everything the younger was and had done. These two words couldn’t even come close to what Pedro had really wanted to say.

---

“Oh my god, Pablo! How many times do I have to tell you to not leave your shoes in the middle of the entrance!” Aurora yelled as fumbling could be heard. “I almost tripped, you idiot!”

Then she finally appeared in the living room, one of her hands holding onto a steaming coffee cup while the other was gripping her phone and a not so tidy binder. She had her hair down with golden hair clips to keep the locks at the front to get in her eyes. So dressed up, so put together and it was still so early in the morning, well not that early but for his overworked mind, nine A.M was too early, he wasn’t sure how she was able to be this hyped.

“Oh, hi Pedro! Sorry, I thought you were still asleep…” she laughed as she finally settled everything down on the coffee table. He shrugged, straightening a little bit to make some sort of good impression. He had known Aurora for as long as he had known Pablo. She had been such a strong presence for her little brother, always babying him, making sure everything is going well. Pedro would see her at every game at home, screaming and clapping with a giant smile on, probably flaunting her brother’s talent to her friends. Then she would be here every morning, when he would be pick up the youngest of the team, dragging him outside, excusing him to Pedro for his tardiness. She cared so much, and he knew his own brother cared as much, and in his biased mind, he was even sure that Fer cared more than Aurora. But their love language wasn’t as soft as the Gavira’s one. Because a punch in the arm and a teasing remark was the equivalent of a forehead kiss and a hand running through brownish locks for them. And sometimes, he would love to have it too, having these genuine and feminine marks of affection that are characteristic of a mother or a sister. He missed his mom. And he wasn’t sure how, nor since when had he started craving the softness of love, the gentle touches and the soothing words. He had never needed it much before, plenty aware of the love that was surrounding him, but now it felt suffocating to be without it. Like the world was too cold, too hard, too violent to continue without healing touches.

“No, it’s okay, I couldn’t sleep much anyway.” She nodded and moved around, getting her blazer off, tying her hair up. She then slumped on the couch, right next to him, a sigh of contentment leaving her lips.

“Where is Pablo?” she remarked after minutes of being here and not having had a glimpse of her younger brother. Which was weird since she had nagged, the exact attitude that would get him riled up and ready to fight back, smart responses on his lips. She frowned, turning around to see if his jacket was hung on the coat hanger, but the beige clothe wasn’t.

“He said something about seeing Ana before training.”

“Ah, right! She’s in Barcelona for two days, I think?” she said, unsure of what Pablo had told her. “Be ready to not get a glimpse of Pablo the entire time she’s here, this boy acts like they haven’t seen each other for years, when she had been there last week.” she added, rolling her eyes. But Pedro could easily decipher the fondness in her tone. He knew Aurora loved Ana for Gavi, she loved the fact that her brother was secure, feeling complete and loved and even though the relationship was long distance, nothing compared in her heart to the beaming smile Pablo would wear every time Ana was mentioned. She knew they had something solid and beautiful. Aurora knew how to share and she would gladly give up a little bit of Pablo for that.

“I would know…” she had said, after seconds of silence. This had Pedro facing her, confused about what she had meant by that. The girl rose a brow, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, a weird blush creeping up his neck when realization hit him. The airy laugh of Aurora met his and it only added to the giggling mess they formed, his hands covering his face when he felt like he was dying. Dying of laughter. She was also losing herself, wanting to talk through her hysterical fit but the lack of air made her voice go higher and higher, impossible to form coherent words. There it was, another wave of laughter thanks to her. She grabbed his forearm, tugging at it so she could see his face. He tried to escape, wriggling and catching his breath at the same time.

“Thank you but I really didn’t want to know that!” he said, still giggling. She opened her mouth to respond but she laughed again, slapping his knee.

“You think I wanted to ? It was so weird to hear it!” he snorted at that, making a disgusted face which had her laughing again. They had let this joyful tide nip at their skin, trying to get through it and inject serotonin in their veins, making them euphoric. They were finally regaining their breath when the comic situation had settled, allowing them to stay sat, a content smile on their faces.

“And ? What exactly did you hear?” she rolled her eyes, slapping his knee again. He was sure he would gain a bruise or two by the end of the day if she persisted on hitting him. “No, really! Did it sound fake?”

“Do you think I tried to analyze it? We are talking about my little brother, Pedri! This shit, he already disgusts me on a daily basis, knowing he indulges in these kind of activities makes it worst!”

“You do know that she is not his first, right? He has been dipping his wick for a long time, nothing new.” He teased, eyeing her, noticing the scarlet color on her cheeks.  Oh, what a great audience she was, so receptive and ready to pounce. A Gavira, he would say. If he hadn’t known the two were related, he was sure he still would have been able to make the connections.

“Do you want me to puke?”

He snorted, nudging her. Such a dramatic woman. She exhaled with a faint grin on her face, relaxing and looking at him fondly. She was now completely facing him since she had turned around on the couch, bringing her legs up so she could sit cross-legged.

“And you?”

“What? Want to know since when I’ve lost my V-card?” she rolled her eyes, slapping his knee, again. Did she want to injure his other leg? That crazy woman… He really had to stop hanging out with Pablo, he was beginning to speak like him, about his sister. Yes, the younger was definitely rubbing off on him.

“Gross!”

“As if it didn’t cross your mind…” he teased, poking her cheek.

“I was asking about you and Y/N” her voice was above a whisper, soft yet still prying. Never in his life had he felt his emotions change this fast. It was like a switch had been flipped, passing from day to night in a matter of seconds. He knew that she had been suspecting some things, but he couldn’t fathom the idea that she would bring it up.

“We can talk about it” she added, her eyes softening so much that it was overwhelming to Pedro. He felt so much compassion from her and he couldn’t understand why. Why was she looking at him as if he were bound to break any moments? He hated it, he hated bringing attention especially this way.

“There is not much to say, really” he responded, trying to ease his answer with a smile. It fell flat, her serious expression telling him she wasn’t believing him one bit.

“I’m not dumb, Pedro” she frowned but she hadn’t moved other than that. “Why aren’t you at hers?”

He sighed, turning his head to look at the kitchen and the wide window there. He could see trees that hid the rest of the buildings surrounding Pablo’s, big and luxurious. “We are just going through a rough patch. It will get better soon.”

“I believe it’s more than a rough patch… How come it’s been months since I’ve seen you laugh this genuinely?” and he had no answers to that statement. Aurora was correct and a gnawing feeling was invading his stomach, letting the sour taste of bile climbing his throat. If she had remarked, everyone else probably had because sure they were close, but he was far from spending all of his time with her. The idea made his head spin with worry and he absolutely had to find a way to get out of this conversation.

“Look, Gavi actually told me some things…”

“What?” he turned his head quickly, finally meeting her concerned gaze. If he hadn’t felt this betrayed, he might have caught on the frown that had settled on her lips and the nervous habit of hers of playing with a dead skin around her finger. “Are you both talking about me behind my back?”

“It’s not like that!”

“Am I your good deed? So you can feel at ease with yourself, so God can be proud of you?”

He was becoming hysterical, irrational, standing up, so he was way taller than Aurora, so he could grasp a little bit of the control she had egoistically taken away from him. She also stood up, fury evident on her face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We just want to take care of you! We care for you, Pedro!”

And, magically, those words slightly appeased the wild storm that had formed in his brain. He knew he had made no sense, and the two siblings wouldn’t ever see him like that. But it was soon replaced by guilt and the nauseous feeling of being caught. He was trapped and she wouldn’t let go.

“Well, I don’t need it. I appreciate the effort, but it’s not your role.” His tone was harsh, wanting to scare her away. Hurt her? Aurora was strong and impossibly stubborn. She wasn’t the type to give up because Pedro had used condescending words.

“And why wouldn’t it be? As a friend, it is in fact my role.”

“No! Your role isn’t to be burdened with my problems.”

“So when I told you about being homesick, missing Sevilla and all of the other things that were wrong in my life, I was burdening you?”  and if it had been a game, she would have scored, hitting the right corner, deforming the net while the goalkeeper wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“It’s not the same!”

“Stop that! With the ‘I’m older, I have to shoulder everything and bottle things up because I don’t want to burden my friends who happen to be younger’ trope. Pablo is strong, he is clever even if he doesn’t look like it. He can understand things and be there for you, actually I believe he is more loyal than some of your older friends. You have to give us credits, we are younger, not dumb or too sensitive for life, Pedro. We can help you: you can confide in us and rely on us. You are only punishing yourself by keeping to yourself.”

She was panting by the end of her rant, worry mixing with anger. The sight was so unusual that swallowing was hard, feeling so small under her passionate eyes. She was intending to make her point come across, breaking through his skull.

“Yes, I’m younger than you. But I still see you as a little brother. Is that weird? Is it because you are like glued to my brother or is it because you remind me so much of him? I’m not sure, but I do have this sentiment that pushes me to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. It’s the same one I have every time I see Pablo frown. But Pablo vents, he runs his mouth and can’t keep shit to himself, so I know what’s going on and it’s easy to help him. On the other hand, you are so closed off, Pedro. And I don’t know how to be here for you, because I have to be there. I have to look out for you because how can I not? We are a family, the moment you chose to take my brother as your passenger princess you were a part of our family. Not to mention you prevent him from getting his head chopped off every games. And as a part of my family, I have to protect you at all cost, younger or not!”

He was pathetic. He must be a sight, right? The Barça golden midfielder standing in the middle of a living room, tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to fall, hands trembling with the sick need of running away from a small woman who only wanted to give him the help he desperately needed.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, you’re not. And that’s okay! I’m prodding right where it hurts. But it’s beginning to take a toll on you, you have to let people in. Pedro, please.”

She had slid a firm hand down his arm, grabbing his hand so gently that his shakiness seemed to transfer to her. She tugged at it, trying to coax him on the couch and he obliged because she had poured so much for him. Ranted and exposed her own feelings and opinions so he could find comfort in them. He owed her that. So, he had sat down, not letting go of her hand and sniffing, trying to keep the salty water at bay. After a deep breath, words and sentences he had buried deep inside him slipped out, meeting Aurora’s full attention. The months of hurt were finally known along with feeling of not being enough, never being enough. His insecurities, yours too, the no man’s land your relationship was now. It all spilled. And with a little push, Aurora had made him say what he thought deep in the night, scared and sick of his own need, but never acting on it. He didn’t want to be selfish, especially not with you because at some point he had been sure he would give up on his life for you, and he had believed you would do the same. Before, you would have. But it all had went to hell five months ago, and Pedro knew the reasons, he understood. He knew you had given up on yourself, not directly on your relationship, but it still hurt and he wanted so much to hold onto it. He sincerely believed it had only been a rough patch and you would go back to being yourself, but one month had passed and you were more outside than in your own place, less with Pedro, your home. The second month held hope because you had tried so, so hard to heal, for him, and you were filled with proudness when you saw him at the World Cup, he was shining and your heart had been beating for him. But they had lost and when Pedro had come back home, the person you were was far gone. He had buried his own doubts and hurt to try to keep you afloat, bottling everything up so he could be available. He had had no time to reflect on their loss, on what it had meant and not processing it made the sting come back, sometimes. He hadn’t had a healing touch from you, you hadn’t reassured him or told him it was alright and things would be fine after a while, you hadn’t and he had felt like something was missing. Then December came, family time, right? You had refused to spend Christmas with his family, even if he had told you that it was alright, that last year you had spent it with them and it had been great. And when Eric had asked him if he wanted to come to the new year’s party him and Ferran were throwing, he had denied, preferring staying with you. They didn’t have to know that you had went at Isabela’s and came back around four in the morning, completely drunk and a giggling mess. You had forgotten about him, but he hadn’t said anything. It had been alright, maybe you had needed the time out. But then it had been the same the next Saturday, and the next, and the next and you wouldn’t show up at any of his games and as time passed, you were more drunk and partying than sober and with him. He had tried, he had cleared his schedule as well as he could to go back to your place rather than at his, he had asked his manager to just focus on his principal sponsors and his club, so he could have time. But it had been no use. He couldn’t count how many times he had opened your door to nothing but emptiness. You had said sorry, but it sounded blend in his ears.  Maybe he should have shaken you before, making it clear that you also had to take care of him at some point, that you couldn’t take him for granted. But he hadn’t and it was his fault, really. Plus, he was far from being the one who suffered the most, if anything, all of that was because of how much pain you were in. He had no rights to want to let go and give up on what you had.

“She has no one, Aurora. No one.” His tears were falling freely on his skin, but slowly, the kind of tears that bore witness of relief. It was so appeasing to let go of the eternal pressure that had been squeezing his insides that he hadn’t moved to dry them. He let it be. “And I’m here, crying while thinking about myself. I have so many people who care for me, I have my family, I have Pablo, I have Ferran, I have you. She has no one. I’m horrible.”

“No.” Aurora seemed so confident here with her hands cradling his face, trying to let her sleeves soaking the dampness of his skin. “Listen to me, it’s okay to let go. You are also a victim of her condition, and it’s okay to not know how to manage it. You can let go, it doesn’t mean you are a bad person. It’s not selfish to put yourself first.”

And he hadn’t even brought up the idea of leaving to the young Sevillian, hadn’t mentioned it. But she had and maybe hearing that he wasn’t guilty, that it wasn’t his fault and he had the right to choose for himself, maybe hearing it, was soothing. Because someone knew and understood. He was legitimate.

“If she loves you, she will understand.”

---

The sun had set a long time ago, leaving the city in a heavy penumbra, perfectly matching with the coldness of winter. Only the fog was missing, thought the young midfielder as he looked around, searching for your figure in the street. He would be reassured if only he would be graced by a shadow of you, just the sound of your voice would suffice. But he had been there for half an hour, sitting on the steps of your building, under the yellowish glow of the streetlights. He had his hood up, hiding his face, hands in his pockets, clutching his phone in case you called. You never did.

God, did he seem pathetic.

By now, even the stars were hidden behind the thick clouds, only offering a black patch in the sky.

He sighed, leaning his head on the cold wall behind him. He couldn’t even feel his fingers now, his muscles numb. Numb. Everything was numb, his muscles, his limbs, his mind, his heart. It was like he had been put under anesthetic and the world around him was asking for him to move, to interact with it. He couldn’t, didn’t feel like doing this extra effort. So, he had decided to stay there, limply sitting against the building where his lover should be right now, safe and sound. You weren’t and he had been done worrying, even frustration wasn’t a part of the equation now. He was done feeling, he thought. He knew that it wasn’t true, that he could feel things, but right now he wished to stay in this unmoving side, where the sea was calm and still, where the wind stopped blowing and the Earth stopped spinning. He craved for the emptiness his mind could offer sometimes, the void, even if it meant being entirely disconnected from his surroundings. He wasn’t sure how it was possible for him to dissociate so much, every time he heard or saw something that should ignite infinite anger and wrench, he would put a wall between them and just stand there, reacting with his mind. Doing what he should do, in a logical way. That wasn’t healthy, he had heard many people talk about that. He wasn’t down to a bad habit anyway.

Another sigh left his chapped lips, leaving his mouth in a white steam. And his absent mind was brought back when he felt something bump on his foot. A pair of Stan smith, matching with his own.

“Need some money?”

Your voice had been light, a slight lull at the end of your question which hinted that you were in a euphoric state. He looked up, a frown marking his brows. Your coat was zipped up, showing how cold you were, cheeks flushed and nose running. But something in your eyes wasn’t adding up. They were unfocused and dilated, in a way he had never quite seen. That was probably why he hadn’t responded to your jokes, hadn’t laughed.

“Did you smoke?” he finally asked, standing up as he said it. He was hovering over you, his frame wide next to yours. You were facing each other, gazes fighting for the truth. You shrugged, rolling your eyes. That wasn’t a big deal in your mind.

“Shit? Weed?” venom was dripping from his voice and maybe if you were more yourself, you would have heard worry meeting disgust.

“Weed” a giggle had left your lips. You wanted to rile him up, to make him so angry so he could rough you up. You stepped on the side, pressing your key’s magnet on the door of your building to open it, ignoring Pedro at the same time.

“Oh, at least it’s natural, huh?” how much more sarcastic could he get? You nodded, proudly.

Why were you doing this to him? So harsh in your reactions, that all the worry and the relief from seeing you safe had vanished, replaced by white anger.

He had to calm down, he couldn’t let you eat his nerves like that. He couldn’t let you push him on edge every time, unsure if he would fall or not. He had to stay stable and collected. He had to keep on being himself. So, he followed you, silence filling the space you were sharing as you climbed up the stairs, reaching your front door. You opened it, not caring if he was coming in or not, not even taking off your shoes. You took off your coat, letting it fall at your feet and slumped on the couch. Dirty clothes were pushed on its side, creating a small pile of dark shades, replacing the giant velvet heart pillow you had bought in your favorite indie store. Cups of what he had imagined being tea were collected on your coffee table, the former hot liquid now cold inside the white porcelains. Your bed, visible behind your couch, was unmade, the blanket rolled on the side he usually used and his pillow on your floor with your spoilt blankie. All of the pictures that had been adorning your walls had been taken off, taking residency in your bin, some torn. A weird relief washed through him when the ones with him were intact, under the trashed one. The roses he had offered you last month were still in the vase on your kitchen table, completely dead. The red had turned brown, petals nibbled, thorns robbed from their defenses.

He hadn’t set a foot here in two weeks.

While he had been focusing on your small apartment, you had stood up, opening the window to let the steely air enter. You were searching for something, rummaging in a drawer under your TV. He rolled his eyes, now used to your frantic mimics. Redirecting his gaze next to your bed, where was your desk, left untouched since Christmas. University was a sore subject, one he had never dared bringing up. But he knew, he had guessed you were done with it. You had dropped out.

“Another one? You’re still high from your previous one!”

You had lit another blunt, the acidic odor perfuming the room. A grimace had settled on his face at the sight, the heavy smoke filling his own lungs and squeezing his heart. You brought it to your lips, breathing in the euphoriant plant. “Why?” and for the first time this night, you dared really looking at him, deposing your eyes on his dejecting form, matching his tone. Guilt appeared in your stomach, closing it around its ugly shape. You took another hit, blowing it out towards the window, stealing all the courage the synthetic happiness had to offer before looking at him.

“My mom called…” he frowned, getting closer. “Same old, Pedro, that’s it.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Getting high won’t help”

You turned around again, now definitely facing the window. You weren’t the most rational right now, but the need to hurt him, as much as you were hurting, seemed primitive. You wanted your words to cut as deep as the ones you had heard hours prior, making him bend over, asking for a break. But you knew he had nothing to do with it, that it was so unfair to him. Instead, you focused on the street outside, plunged in the dark and settled for something you deemed less hurtful.

“Oh, because you can help?” and your flat voice couldn’t sooth what you had implied.

His breath caught in his throat, the weight of the situation finally crushing him. It had pushed him down, applying an incredibly heavy pressure on his sore shoulders. Another blow, another hit that made him stumble. And in this mix of pure pain, his anger, contained for months, asked for release.

“What do you think?” his tone had lowered, calm anger was the worst and hurt you the most. He wasn’t aiming at that, but it had reached a point where the spikes were too sharp for him to raise his voice. Flat anger was the calm before the storm.

“Nobody can help me. Certainly not you.” you stumped out the tip of your blunt on the hard surface of your window frame, turning around, letting your ugly side win. Tonight, you would shred him, making him bleed on your pale carpet. His confused eyes, darker than you had ever seen, met yours and you scoffed. “You and your perfect little life, with your perfect little family, your perfect loving parents and loving brother and your perfect little friends, huh? How could you help?” a giggle, accompanied by a pointed index, pinned him. “You cannot understand and your stupid attempts are futile, they won’t ever help me. You’re just making it worse by always nagging. There is nothing to do anyway, so leave me alone!”

“Nagging? I’m taking care of you every fucking day! I’m the one who has to pick you up every night, when you decide to get trashed, I’m the one cleaning after you. No, I’m not nagging, I’m making sure you’re safe, can’t you see that?”

He was losing his calm, you were close to making him fall, so you pushed, again. You wanted to see him wobble on the edge, catching the moment where he would lose balance and succumb to the ugliest things in his heart. So, you opened your mouth, delivering the fatal blow. “Oh please, I’ve never asked for your help. Don’t blame me for what you wanted to do!” a roll of eyes, the perfect picture of indifference. “Your life is so bland that you cling to me so you can taste a little bit of adrenaline. I cheated on you, Pedro! But you’re still here, fussing over me. I humiliated you, screamed someone else’s name and you did not leave. Don’t you have self-respect?” you saw his eyes darkening, glistening under the artificial lights. But you couldn’t stop, not now. You were close to get what you so desperately wanted. “No, you don’t. You’re twenty, fucking rich, and here you are, crying over me. You could do anything you want, getting shit faced at parties in villas with your little footballer friends, travelling the world and cheat on me with any chicks around Barcelona. But no, no, you religiously follow your diet, you call your parents every two days and you fuss over me. That’s your life. Pretty sad, no? You live like you’re in your forties with kids. You can’t even get angry! You’re a coward.”

“Shut up!” his voice had resonated in your apartment. You both were looking at each other as you were completely shocked by his outburst, yet it had been what you had wanted. He was panting, fists tightly clenched at his sides. “Just shut up!” he got closer, red high on his cheeks and his hot breath fanning your skin. “You don’t want my help? I’m a coward? Without me, you would be dead, Y/N. Be realistic, if I were not here, you would probably have sliced your wrists open already. Not being able to face life without getting high or being drunk isn’t living in my books. That’s pitiful. Don’t lecture me on how I live my life when all you do is destroying yours.”

“You’re the coward, you’re such a coward. You cheated on me, because you cannot love correctly. I don’t cheat because I’m not some freak who can’t deal with my emotions. Be honest with yourself, for once. Admit it, Y/N! You’re fucking unstable, and I’m not like you. I’m not interested in throwing everything away and hurt the ones I love.”

You had never thought that he would go this far, spilling all his swirling thoughts to you, everything he had kept hidden at the back of his head, desperately trying to not prod at it. You had pushed him too far and now that you had obtained what you had asked for, you regretted it. Hearing these words coming out of his mouth, it had hurt, because you knew there was some truth to it. “You really think that?”

After your question, a tense silence had enveloped the room, every corners. Both of you were staring at each other, eyes full of sorrow, unshed tears trapped in your lower lash lines. Even the street had kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the time you needed to process things. It felt like hours, it could just have been seconds, but your breath was short and you were suffocating. A dull ache behind your heart was pushing, and pushing, making a clawing feeling course your body. Was it guilt? You knew you had to add something to this, it screamed for it to come out.

He wouldn’t answer. You knew.

“I wouldn’t kill myself”

Pedro sighed, his shoulders slumping while he let go of one of his dozens of worries. Still hidden behind his shell, the one he used to protect himself with from the prying eyes, the scary ones that would search for his depth, everything he wanted to keep to himself, he had sighed. Had accompanied it with a firm hand running over his tensed face. Then, he had let his limb fall at its side, hanging there without any moving attempt.

“Y/N, I think we should stop this…” he had whispered it. Yet, the words had cut deep enough. However, you would lie if you ever said it was a shock to you. It hadn’t been. You had been wondering for months when would it be coming, when he would finally allow himself some peace. Even if these words were the blade across your skin, you couldn’t even fathom the idea of resenting him for that. You would let it slash, make your scarlet blood dribble at the tips of your fingers while leaving angry red streaks on their track. He could even add salt if he wanted to, you would let him, leave your wound in open air being washed down by the rain. You would let his words hurt you, but you weren’t sure if you could let him act on it.

“Yes, let’s stop fighting. We can discuss about it tomorrow, when we are calmer.” You played dumb. It was always the easiest way to get away of something in your mind, contouring the problem and continuing as if it had never happened.

“No…” His eyes had locked with yours, shining under the artificial light of your rusty chandelier. “Let’s stop us.”

You saw how much these words had also affected him, his voice had wavered by the end of his sentence. You weren’t capable of letting any sounds out, looking at him with a crushed expression because your world was crumbling around you. You were finally losing him.

A honk was heard outside, then an airy ‘bye’ mixed with a feminine giggle. A car door had slammed for your building’s to open, hinted by the faint sound of the digits combination. And here you were, holding yourself up against the frame of your window as the boy who had given up so much of himself for you was two feet away.

“We should break up, Y/N.”

You had nothing to answer to that. He was right, the toxicity that had seeped between you was taking more place each day and even for you, you knew it was the best thing to do. You had to heal, to try to love yourself and go on without leaning on someone. You had to fight for peace and it was not fair to bring him into this, not when it meant stealing his light. You had to learn and he couldn’t do that for you. But it hurt so much, even if it was what should be done, your heart still felt like it had been ripped out of your chest. Your quietness only comforted him in his decision, proving his point. You weren’t fighting for it.

In a haze, he left your apartment. He hadn’t uttered another word, scared to break the brittle agreement you had come up with in silence. He didn’t quite remember how he had moved, if he had looked at you one last time or if he had heard anything, even a simple sob that would let him know you were as broken as him. He didn’t remember, everything was a blur mixed with unshed tears, blocked out to protect his soul. He was pretty sure he had skipped a step in your stairs, wasn’t aware how he had caught himself, had he closed your door while leaving? He had no more control, he hated it. He hated himself.

Now, he was standing in the middle of the street, under the same streetlights that casted a yellowish glow over him, wind numbing his skin. It felt as if the world was falling on his shoulders, crushing him. Everything he had tried to repress while talking to you came back full force, clutching his lungs and making his head spin. He had put an end to your relationship, he had thrown away what you had. It all felt too much, coming up his throat and strangling him. The tears he hadn’t shed finally ran down his face, dampening his cheeks, drained of colors. He was sobbing, not able to keep every ounce of emotion inside. With a trembling hand, he took his phone and called the first person he thought of, the only person who would comfort him without asking too much questions. The sound of the call, right before he picked up, resonated in his mind with all the hurtful things he could think of. Then, the soothing voice could finally be heard.

“Fer, can you pick me up?” he was sobbing, his voice slurred, barely intelligible, cut by hiccups. Fernando could hear him working himself up and he was scared that his little brother was going to pass out. After every cry, his heart pace picked up.

“Where are you? What’s going on?” he tried to keep himself composed, couldn’t risk to bring Pedro to the edge he was already dangerously dancing with. He had already put his shoes on, skipping steps towards his car.

“I’m at Y/N’s”

“Stay there, I’ll be here soon.”

But he could still hear the agitated breathing, the sniffling, the chocked-up whines. He knew that Pedro was heartbroken, had never really seen him in this state. He didn’t need to answers to his questions to understand.

Once his feet touched the car’s pedals, he whispered in the most comforting tone he could muster the words he knew his brother craved. “I’m coming, Pedro. I’m here.”

☁️

I need to say it there, because it is really important to know that. You deserve help, you deserve people surrounding you and holding your hand while you go through the hardships life throws at you. You are not less deserving, less lovable. And you are certainly not a problem. But sometimes, the help you intimately need, is the one coming from a professional and nobody can replace that.

That’s why, if you are the helper, you also have to know that it’s okay to leave. You deserve to leave and put your health first, it’s okay to give up, not on the person but on the role you play in their life. You deserve appeasement and healing as well, you deserve to say stop when it’s too much. You are not guilty, nor a bad person. You cannot be the sole support of someone’s life, and if you can’t handle that, leaving is okay. You can change your role, step out but still be there. Of course, you can. Nobody has the right to blame you, because you did your best and you tried.

Both of these cases deserve love, appeasement, healing, care. Both of these cases are strong, deserving of the best. Every feeling of yours are legitimate and putting yourself first isn’t you being egoistic.

All the love to everyone ♡

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S2E1: The Curse of Cornelius Sigan

Arthur's "reset" (regress)

(a bit of a long rant)

I still can’t believe they put in that stool scene… It made Arthur’s other actions in this ep looked even worse than they were. It’s not even practical. I’m sure Arthur can jump up a horse just fine.

What’s the point anyway? Merlin wasn’t even angry about it. He was angrier at Cedric, and the fact that Arthur didn’t know how much Merlin did for him (which Arthur couldn’t). Merlin was weirdly pliant when he bent down to be a stool as well… Did the production team not notice it was an awful thing to do?

The worst thing Arthur did in s1 was make his servant a moving target (which Merlin called him out) and get Merlin into the stock for him (in which I still think he was enchanted and stock was played for laugh from the beginning anyway). Why did the writer think it’s okay to regress Arthur’s character to this??

***

After the stool it was kind of fine… Most of Arthur’s actions were reasonable from his perspective.

Falling from the horse was seriously dangerous so he was angry. (it seemed like it was the one genuine mistake on Merlin’s part? Although Arthur should have checked it himself before mounting the horse)

He pulled a good face on Cedric just to irritate Merlin, not actually falling for the bootlicking. He didn’t give Cedric that important of a job either.

Merlin did get to be Arthur’s manservant after saving Arthur’s life, so awarding Cedric with a position in the royal household after he saved the hunting party was fair enough. He didn’t make Cedric his manservant though.

After the stable incident Arthur thought Merlin was exhausted and kept making mistakes, so he gave him a night off.

Merlin was too angry with Cedric to talk like a sane person so I get why Arthur didn’t believe him. He tossed Merlin to the dungeon because he suddenly attacked another person for no good reason (from Arthur’s perspective).

It would be fine if I weren’t so infuriated by how stupid they made Arthur for the plot to work…

First, somehow Arthur believed that skinny Cedric could throw a lance and kill a boar when Camelot’s best warrior (Arthur) couldn’t. (He even grabbed Cedric's arm for examination...)

He allowed a strange man to take on the duties of his personal manservant (which Arthur didn’t order him to) and have access to all the important keys.

And he believed Merlin let loose the horses?? Arthur wasn’t that stupid. Even if Merlin did fall asleep there was still someone else who let go of the horses. They were tied up! They didn’t escape by themselves. Not to mention no one would just sleep on shit on purpose.

If Merlin and Gaius could figure out Cedric’s the thief Arthur certainly should. Catching criminals was his job for god’s sake. I’m so mad.

It’s even more infuriating than the bully-bordering-abuse ooc action since the latter could totally be cut out without affecting the plot. ARTHUR ISN’T STUPID!!

***

It seemed that Arthur’s “spoiled prat” aspect would be more and more prominent from this point on. He would get better, I think, but S1 Arthur was actually pretty nice. Take the last scene in this ep, for example, it was almost the same situation as in Valiant i.e. Arthur (sort of) apologise for his mistakes. In Valiant, he didn’t dump things on Merlin, he actually said ‘sorry’, and his voice was soft.

[S2E1] [other episodes]

[supernova41st]

Vox x Daughter!Android! Reader

Chapter 2: Empathy

Ch.1 Ch.2

Warnings: Swearing

A/n: so this is kinda a continuation of a rlly old fic I made a few months ago. I edited it a bit to make it look more like my new style of writing so make sure to read that! Also idk anything about computers so most of this stuff is just stuff I pulled out my ass 😻

Robot vocab-☆♡~!!•?

Third POV:

“Step on here.” Vox says out loud, tapping your oval shaped eyes, glowing blue. Your light blinks a bit at him, while you lift your head in order to face him, still collecting data on everything around you. The floor, the walls, the wires, your feet, Vox. Everything felt so new yet so familiar, you knew everything as well as nothing at all.

Vox sighs out of annoyance, that the robot that he had been working on for years is being quite unresponsive. But of course, he can’t just throw you out of all things away for such a small flaw. To him, you were bigger than his other products, you were a spectacle.

Vox eventually just decides to grab you by the back of your neck, and places you on the charging system for you. Like a mother cat lifting her babies by the neck. You then hear a small click beneath you, as the area around you glows. While Vox stands right next to you, his hands clasped behind his back.

“AW.77//FOUND”

Your head snaps at the voice that comes as soon as the square glows. “Don’t be frightened my failure of a friend, this is just a test! You’ll be in and out in no time.” Vox says in his regular swingy tone. “Now we just gotta see if your basic stuff is there, Yknow just to see if I’m not gonna have to worry about you for the next few years. Again.” Oof, he sounds a bit irritated on that last part. I mean who wouldn’t be after spending hours upon hours on an ai that can’t even respond to you.

“4ARM//:FIREARM”

Your left arm is then lifted by some sort of force that took over your body, then revealing a firearm of some sort opening from underneath your forearm. “Oh shit!! I forgot I added that..” Vox laughs, tapping at the muzzle of the weapon. The socket begins to close as the voice comes in again.

“VOICEBOX//:220”

“☆”, high pitched beep comes from the speaker that is laid in your chest. Vox eyes widen a bit, realizing that he had forgotten to finish up your voice file. Now you can only speak in beeps. “✿$~?” You ask, (I think..) “Fuck, no wonder you couldn’t respond. Alright let’s get you off” Vox then recreates the same scene he did putting you on the square, now removing you.

“You know what? Why don’t you stay here while I go grab my dead friend Velvet to get you some clothes for your naked self!!” Vox asks, waiting for a response as if he was gonna receive one. All he gets is two glowing ovals staring at him, “groan okay I’ll take you with me. Not like you have much to do here anyways”

Vox drags you the towers main elevator, then getting to Velvettes floor where she was screaming at her designers as usual. “Velvette?” Vox calls out calmly as if she wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs. “Oh! Thank goodness you’re here Mr v.” She says sarcastically. “What do you need? And make it fast. I have a show to do in 2 hours and my models aren’t here yet.” Velvet exclaims.

“Well, I have a new model for you.” Vox nudges you a bit to take a step ahead to present you to Velvette. Velvette raises a brow, clearly unamused at vox’s ‘model’. “The fuck is this? Do I look like I make clothes for Claires?” Velvette complains while poking your fairly large metal head. Vox clicks his tongue, “okay well she isn’t supposed to be a model, she’s a project I’ve been working on and I just need her in some clothes.” He admits, holding his hands behind his back.

Velvette, still in her unamused look, sighs. “Yeah sure I’ll find her something.” Velvette then claps her hands twice before yelling, “MELISSA, THE STAGE, NOW!!” Her dear model steps onto the plush step up chair to try on outfits while Velvette snaps her fingers in order to show off the clothes she has in store for Voxs ‘project’. A short pink sundress poofs onto Velvettes model, Vox immediately cringing at the flashiness of the dress.

“How about this one? It was apart of my summer collection a few months ago” Velvette grins waiting for Vox’s response. “Hmm, let’s uhh look at more!” Velvette shrugs snapping her fingers again, showing a white thigh length dress, folded on the chest to be shoulderless, completed with a blue belt. “Oo this one’s cute innit? I bet your little friend would love it.”

Vox shrugs, he didn’t really care about the aesthetics, just as long as it covered his ‘projects’ body. “I’ll take it!” Vox says proudly, Velvette snaps her fingers, the outfit appearing right in her hands on a hanger. “Here ya go luv, tell your project I said you’re welcome” Velvette chirps. “Speaking of which, where did the cheeky little bugger go?”

Vox looks around a bit, before laying his eyes on you, who’s now covered in large unrolled sheets of fabrics and threat. “Hey! I had those organized!” Velvette yells. Vox, like a panicked parent, runs towards you to grab you by the wrist. “I’m so sorry Velvette! She’s still getting use to this place Yknow” Vox says with a large smile on his face. “Well then get er’ out of here! I don’t need her ‘getting use to’ anything around here” Vox makes a poker face at her, before dragging you to the elevator.

“Are you serious? You could’ve gotten damaged out there! I mean my work could’ve been a huge waste if one of those things fell directly on you!!” He yells. You completely ignoring him, begin to poke the random buttons that were placed in the elevator. Vox slaps his screen, “Jesus fuck what am I gonna do with you..”

You begin to look up at his screen, attempting to gather most of what he’s feeling.

“#$@*”

Vox looks down, to see you, now hugging him, your cheek lying against his stomach. Suddenly, you started to glow pink. Now for some reason, you can feel. Not feeling physically, but emotionally. Empathy was being printed in each wire in your body, and from what you knew, hugging was the best way you could show it.

Vox was a bit confused at your gesture, he didn’t really know how to feel since no one has ever showed him this level of affection. It felt right tho, like he got what he deserved. Even without words, he knew what you wanted to say. And he knew how to respond.

“Uh, I guess I forgive you..?”

[babytarttdoodoo]

Omg I’m obsessed with your fics! Your writing is so good! Can I request some hurt\comfort Roy / Jamie where Jamie just needs some cuddles?

And now for something completely different! Back to the regularly scheduled short and sweet prompts, I jumped at the chance to do some fluff after my brief descent into madness.

(It wasn’t that brief and I doubt that it’s over.)

Roy/Jamie, set maybe two years after canon.

Song rec: Better Together

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

Giving Jamie a key to his house had been an easy decision for Roy, regardless of how short the length of their ‘official’ relationship had technically been. Despite working together on a daily basis, their schedules could be vastly different and demanding.

Jamie had professional commitments outside of Richmond, split between brand partnerships and public appearances, on top of the time he religiously kept aside to spend with the team or on trips to Manchester. Roy was increasingly (frustratingly) involved in the day-to-day running of the club and spent at least two of the nights in a week that he wasn’t trapped in his office with Phoebe running circles around him after school.

Basically, dedicated ‘alone time’ was hard to come by and it was actually really fucking nice to come home some nights and find Jamie already sorting dinner in the kitchen, or to be surprised by an unplanned visit whenever he found himself at a loose end.

It was nice that Jamie clearly felt at home enough in his space to use it.

That said, this evening he was confronted with a lot more slamming of doors and aggressive muttering than he had typically come to expect when Jamie let himself in.

“In here.” Roy answered from his space on the couch when Jamie did eventually call out and confirm he wasn’t a bad-tempered burglar. He paused the film he’d been half-watching and scowled at his boyfriend when he poked his head into the living room. “What the fuck did my front door do to you?”

Jamie winced slightly and shrugged before all but collapsing over the back of the settee, 170 pounds of muscle immediately reduced to a floppy ragdoll. Roy made appropriately irritated sounds at being jostled, while simultaneously holding his arms agreeably up out of the way so Jamie could squirm around into a comfortable position. His head found its way to Roy’s lap and he tucked his legs up to avoid dangling off the arm.

“Sorry.” he said, smiling sheepishly once he was settled. “Long fucking day.”

“Yeah?” Roy’s hands automatically sought out more contact, one resting on Jamie’s chest, the other beginning to card through his hair.

He had let his natural colour grow back in this season. At this length, it had started forming a mop of soft curls on top of his head that Roy found unbearably attractive. Even with whatever overpriced products it had been saturated in for the day, it only took a few runs through of Roy’s fingers to set the strands loose again.

He suppressed a laugh at the way Jamie pressed into the touch with a contented sound, acting for all the world like an affection-starved cat.

“Yeah,” he sighed, eyes drifting shut. “The bloke running the shoot was a right dickhead. Whole thing dragged on way longer than it had to.”

Roy frowned. Jamie had been looking forward to working with this company - some fashion line Keeley had secured a contract for. It would be a fucking shame if the whole thing was a miserable cock up.

“Need me to knock some skulls together?”

Jamie huffed a laugh, lips twitching up, but the pinch in his brow didn’t smooth over like Roy had hoped it would. He was clearly upset by whatever happened.

“Nah. Not sure they’ll invite me back, to be honest. Keeley’s gonna go through me tomorrow.”

That was a straight up alarming concept. The list of things that would push Keeley to be genuinely angry at Jamie was incredibly short. “What happened?”

“Told him where to stick it, didn’t I?” Jamie groused, turning his face to nuzzle into Roy’s stomach. “Got sick of him yelling at me for just doing what he said. Prick.”

“Hey.” Roy waited until he saw Jamie’s eyes open and peer up at him. “He shouted at you?”

“A bit.”

“Where does he live?”

Jamie snorted and lightly smacked Roy’s arm. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously, Jamie.” The hand that had been petting his hair moved to cup his cheek instead. “Keeley is not going to be mad at you for telling off some idiot giving you a hard time. You don’t need to put up with that shit.”

Jamie hummed, not looking entirely convinced, but the tightness in his shoulders did ease up a little.

“It were a big deal, this shoot.” he said quietly. “Supposed to do a couple more with ‘em next month. They won’t if they decide I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve done more modelling in the last two years than I did in my entire fucking playing career.” Roy pointed out. “If it went wrong, I doubt it was because of something you did.”

A thoughtful look overtook Jamie’s expression and, with a small grunt of effort as the only warning, he surged up to capture Roy’s lips in a sweet, warm kiss. He used the hand not propping himself up to grasp the back of Roy’s neck, pulling him in as close as he could at the awkward angle.

Roy was definitely not complaining but couldn’t help his surprise, blinking in confusion when they broke apart. “What was that for?”

“It’s sexy when you make sense.” Jamie told him, a welcome flicker of amusement in his expression. “And when you try to get me out me head. Sorry I’m being a grumpy bastard.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve never had to put up with that from me.” Roy deadpanned, eyebrows raised. Jamie rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the grin taking over his face. Fair play. “Tell me why you’re so upset over this. You know Keeley won’t give two shits about one bad day.”

Jamie’s face screwed up for a moment then he huffed and shifted around to sit properly beside Roy, still pressed up to his side but occupying his hands with spinning one of the few rings he had on that day.

Roy didn’t rush him, knowing he'd find the words in his own time.

“I don’t like being called ‘stupid’.” Jamie finally admitted, like letting that bother him was something to be fucking ashamed of.

The hot spike of anger that shot through Roy’s gut seized up his joints in a vice of coiled tension. Ten years ago, he’d let loose that energy by charging at the source and whoever else happened to be in his path. Now, with only Jamie there to take it out on, he forced himself to relax at least a fraction before trusting his voice wouldn’t come out sharply.

“What the fuck did he say to you?”

Jamie nudged him gently, no doubt reading the protective fury in every line of his body and appreciating the effort to rein it in.

“Dunno, exactly. I’m hardly fluent in Spanish but I’ve seen enough of Dani’s Twitter replies to know when I’m being insulted.” He shrugged. “After the third or fourth ‘móngolo’ and ‘apestar’ I told him to go fuck himself and stormed off.”

Jamie groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, ears going pink like they did when he was embarrassed or stressed.

“In my defence, he were pissing off everyone on the shoot. The photographer found me later to say he were five minutes away from doing the same. And he kept getting on at the makeup girl ‘cause me abs weren’t ‘defined enough’.” He put air quotes around the words and Roy gritted his teeth so hard he thought he heard one of the back ones crack.

“Right.” he ground out and took another deep breath when even he could hear the homicidal rage in his tone. “First off, that’s the most moronic fucking thing I’ve ever heard. You’re in the best shape of your bloody life and your torso looks like you’ve airbrushed it on every morning.”

Jamie snorted, clearly appreciating the compliment, despite everything else. 

“He’s just a prick they paid way too much money to fly in from Barcelona.” he said, leaning his head on Roy’s shoulder and sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as anything. “Keeley already told them that if they were gonna insist on doing the shoot during the season, there’s no way I would be getting dehydrated before it.”

Roy sharing his opinions on that fun part of modelling, whether on season or off, was not going to help matters. He made the magnanimous decision to let it go and was very proud of himself.

“Second.” He continued instead, putting an arm around Jamie to tug him in and press a kiss to his temple. “You are not fucking stupid. Or whatever else he said. Like to see that bastard fend for himself in the kind of tactical nightmares you find a way around.”

“Footie genius.” Jamie agreed lightly, nodding like he was humouring Roy.

“Fucking brilliant, on or off the pitch.” Roy corrected and squeezed Jamie to emphasise the point. “I’ve never seen anyone read people the way you do. Or remember so much shit. You knew what that fucker was saying about you because you pay attention to everything. I don’t know how you do it.”

Jamie buried his face into Roy’s shoulder, ears definitely pink now.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Freaky when you give me this many compliments, you old weirdo.”

Roy chuckled and kissed Jamie’s hair again. “You know I mean it?”

“Yeah.” Jamie sniffed and Roy couldn’t tell if he was just clearing the air or something else. “You’re a shit liar.”

“Glad to hear it. Did you eat yet?”

“Meant to order in on the way back. Forgot.”

“Fuck that. I’ve got a pot of spag bol that Phoebe and me barely made a dent in. Let’s get you fed.”

Jamie propped his chin up on Roy’s shoulder, eyes big and soft with a smile playing around his mouth. He leaned in again and kissed Roy some more, unbearably gentle and intense about it all at the same time.

“Alright. Let’s see what damage I can do to these abs, then.”

[gryficowa]

No matter how much you love Disney productions, remember that Disney supported Israel financially

So you and the Olympics are boycotting it

But coming back, the limit of 10 links on tumblr annoys me, I'll say it straight, it's irritating and makes it difficult to reach people with collections, so you have to, for example, create a million posts and there's still a chance that a post will reach (and be shared… Even mentioning about sharing posts no longer works, even in the form of tags, liking does not help in reaching people) is too small, you never know whether a post will reach people or not (That's why I'm giving links to previous posts that I created, because they have collections and I don't know if they will be able to reach them)

Unfortunately, I'm not a person with great reach and that also makes it difficult (Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga are silent, but they could help in reaching collections…)

And a lot of the fundraisers aren't even shared on tumblr, which sucks (I'm telling you straight)

Now that I have your attention: