#kit's gaming addiction

[trolling-the-interwebs]

EHEHEHEHE FIRST TEN PULL AND I FINALLY ACQUIRED MY MANS LIGHTCONE

[samkerrworshipper]

the monsters gone

part 3 of beautiful girl series -> part 1 -> part 2

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as moms)

warnings: drug addiction, drug abuse, talks of illicit substances, depression, intrusive thoughts, would not advise for people in a bad mental headspace

You wanted her to leave, or you were desperate for a fix and well aware that it wasn’t going to happen until she was gone and you could retreat up to your room like normal. 

You scratched at the incision on your forearm, it was hidden underneath your hoodie but you could feel it all the same, it made you feel guilty. 

You’d never felt guilty for taking drugs, why would you? It was your choice, your body, your brain that you were fucking with. Yet for some reason, the little mark that you knew was sitting right on top of your vein was making you feel guilty. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt oddly like the start of something, you weren’t sure what though, whatever it was though, it didn’t feel good. 

When the door clicked open around 2 o’clock you felt far more at peace, watching your mom hobble through the door with Lia following her. Jordan stood up almost immediately and if the room hadn’t already been awkward then the awkwardness found a whole new definition as the two women looked at each other. 

“Hey Jord, thanks for hanging around, you’re looking good.”

Your mom looked relieved to see Jordan, your ma on the other side looked slightly terrified as she eyed up the two women. 

“It wasn’t an issue, you know I love spending time with my chick.”

Leah smiled, looking down at you on the couch, you buried your head in your phone, ignoring her gaze. 

“Whether she admits it or not she likes seeing you as well.”

Your ma laughed awkwardly, it took everything in you to not burst out laughing at all of the tension between the two of them. 

“Look I’ll be heading off, gotta me back in Birmingham for game review tonight but can we talk for a minute though Le?”

Your mom’s head cocked to the side, a look of curiosity evident on her face. 

“Yeah sure, come with me.”

Lia watches them with the same look of curiosity as you, your eyes meeting as the trail back from the doorway to Leah’s office that they both step into. 

“They’re talking about me.”

Lia doesn’t bother trying to ignore you or deny what you’re saying, she nodes her head. 

“Probably, that’s what most parents do.”

It’s a absentminded answer, and for a second your aware that maybe Lia is in on whatever is happening, that she knows exactly what is going on behind the door. If anything important came from the phone call earlier you know Lia would be the first to know, she was like the third parent you never asked for nor wanted, but somehow ended up with. 

“Ma thinks that Mom’s parenting is shit.”

Lia cocks her head, she’s harder to read then your moms, more calculated, more clean, less obviously emotional. 

“She just disagrees with some of the things that your mother does, so do I. Nobody else is in her shoes though, she makes the decisions that are necessary and best for you.”

Lia sounds convinced of her words, even though you doubt them. 

“Ma doesn’t think so.”

Lia bit down on her bottom lip, finishing with tucking her kit bag away so she could focus her attention on you. 

“She worries about you.”

You did your best to suppress the eye roll, it didn’t work. 

“She worries that mom is too nice and isn’t strict enough.”

Sometimes you thought that your mom compensated for the void between the two of you by letting you do whatever you wanted, other times you were reminded by your grandma that she’d told Leah she needed to go easy on you and that not everyone could be as perfect as Leah Williamson. 

“Your mom knows what you need better than anybody else.”

The conversation paused, the two of you flinching at the sound of yelling from the other side of the door, you couldn’t make out what was being said, both of them were yelling though. 

“Set the table for lunch for me, kiddo?”

You couldn’t pull your eyes from the door, you hadn’t hear your moms yell in a long time, it took you back to when they were breaking up, when they tried to act like they weren’t, when they saved the fighting and yelling for when you’d been tucked into bed and they’d thought you were asleep. 

“Kiddo, table.”

You stood up from the couch, your eyes staying stuck to the door, even as you pulled cutlery from the drawer and laid it out with the placemats on the table. Eventually, the yelling ceased, and the room was over come with a silence like no other, only being broken by the door opening and your two moms walking out, both of them looking far more content considering that it had sounded like they were screaming at each other, not thirty seconds ago. 

“Bubba, Jord is going to head off, if you want to say bye.”

Jordan’s arms opened up to you and as mad and confused as you were, you weren’t going to deny her. You walked around the table, leaning into her hug, wrapping your arms around her the same way she did for you, letting her hold on for a little bit longer. 

“I’ll be back when I can chicky, I love you so much.”

You wanted to tell her she was lying, that they were all lying, they didn’t fucking love you, it was so fucking obvious. But for the sake of keeping the peace you didn’t. 

“I love you too Ma.”

Jordan let go of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The same way she had when they’d adopted you when you were eight, the same way she had after your first game when you were 12, the same way she had when you were 14 and you’d been top of your form and given an award, the same way she had when she’d left for good when you were 16. It was the same kiss, yet everything about it was different, the meaning, the purpose, the intention, it was all different. 

You watched as she walked out the door, the same as every time, you listened to the sound of her car starting and the sound of gravel underneath her tires as she pulled out and onto the road. 

Once you were sure she was gone you turned around, sliding into a seat at the table, across from your mother, staring at her. 

“What were you guys talking about?”

Leah looked at you, poker face as good as ever. 

“Football, some other stuff.”

It was a obvious lie, both you and Lia knew it. 

“You were talking about me, what about me?” Leah rolled her eyes at you. 

“It was a conversation between your Ma and I, not for your ears.”

You didn’t bat an eye as Lia set lunch down in front of you, to fixated on your mother. 

“You don’t yell over nothing, what were you talking about.”

Leah pushed her tongue out against her lips. 

“Your ma had some concerns about you, that’s it, I told her she had nothing to worry about and that we were doing just fine.”

You knew that even if you didn’t want to admit it, Jordan probably had some valid points, your mom seemed unphased though. 

“That’s it?”

Leah looked at you, and you could tell that she was holding something back. 

“She told me that you’d told her you smoked weed last night and that you were vomiting this morning.”

You tried to keep your face from changing, keeping the confident exterior even if you were slightly scared on the inside. 

“I got drunk, I had some fun, it was no biggy.”

Leah’s eyebrow rose in the trademark question. 

“It’s a biggy to me because you told all you were doing was vaping and a little bit of drinking, you said you’d be honest with me and it’s clear you haven’t been.”

You hesitated for a second, the air thickening around you as suddenly the tension was between you and your mother. 

“I was just having some fun mom, I didn’t do anything stupid, I was safe, just like you asked.”

Leah’s face shrivelled up as you used her words against her. 

“You were out with friends I’ve never met, at a house on the opposite side of town that I’ve never been too, Jord said you looked like you’d been on a three day bender and I told her that I didn’t believe her but now you’re here admitting it.”

You reached into your pocket for your vape, desperate for something to take the edge of the conversation off, to make you feel calmer. 

You pulled it out and Leah’s face immediately pointed inwards.

“How many times do I have to say no vape at the table?”

You frowned, shoving it back in your pocket. 

“It was just a bit of weed mom, it’s what kids my age do.”

Leah shook her head. 

“It wasn’t just a bit of weed, I’ve been smelling it on your clothes for weeks and trying to tell myself I was being delusional because you’d told me you were just on the vape, that you had no interest in drugs and yet you were lying to me, you have been for a while bubba and I don’t know how to feel about it to be honest. I thought we were closer than most parents and kids, I thought we had boundaries and that I was giving you enough space, and now I don’t know what to think.”

You pursed your lips, struggling to find words. 

“And if you’re lying to me about weed then what else is there? What else is there you aren’t telling me because there has to be more. I let you drop football, I relaxed on the school because I know you were struggling but this doesn’t work if you aren’t honest with me.” 

You really didn’t know what to say, your mind was in a million different places, the container underneath your bed, the joints on your windowsill hidden behind the curtains, the three vapes in your bedside table, the drug dealer numbers in your phone, what had happened last night, the meth track mark on your arm. 

“Nothing, it was just some weed, I just wanted something to take the edge off, it was no big deal.”

Leah’s eyes closed for a second and you knew this was all about to get a lot harder. 

“Except it was a big deal because you’ve been doing it behind my backs for weeks, I’ve tried to be understanding bubba, I have, I know it’s been tough for you with me and Jords breakup, you’ve had a really hard year, I let the vaping slide, I let your attendance drop at school, but drugs bub, it’s no joke.”

You took a deep breath. 

“It’s just some weed, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Leah wants to say that if you’re this relaxed about being caught doing weed then she doesn’t want to know what else you’re hiding from her that would make you less relaxed, but she keeps it to herself, or for this moment at least. 

“I want you to bring me whatever you have of it, I won’t have you smoking illicit and illegal substances underneath my roof.”

You figured there were worse things that could happen, she could find your stash, she could take your vape, she could ground you or make you go to school. 

“Okay.”

Your mom nodded, happy she had at least won a small battle. 

“After lunch.”

You nod again in agreeance, looking down at the caesar salad in front of you and stabbing your fork down onto it, picking up the different pieces of lettuce and chicken scattered throughout. 

You make it through half the meal before you grab your bowl and pick it up, walking into the kitchen to do you washing up, your mom follows behind you, her bowl empty. 

You take the dish from her, cleaning it out and stacking both of them in the dishwasher, knowing whats to come now. 

You slow yourself down on the stairs giving her the time to follow behind you as she dragged her bad leg up every individual stair. 

Leah had been putting in hours everyday for her rehab, it was her main focus, over everything else. 

Eventually the two of you made it to the top of the stairs, and eventually to your bedroom door.

You hesitated before opening it, you couldn’t remember the last time Leah had been inside it, way before her acl, ever since she’d gotten injured she’d been avoiding the staircase. 

You opened the door, hand pausing on the cold metal doorknob for a split second before pushing it open. 

Your room was still freezing, you didn’t miss how your mother shivered from the breeze that hit her face immediately, coming straight from the open window. 

“Jesus kiddo, you trying to replicate antarctica in here? You know I pay good money for heating, right?”

It’s a lighthearted joke, yet somehow it hurts for you, you don’t know how or why, you just know that it does. 

“I like it cold.”

Leah looks at you, both brows furrowed inwards. 

“Alright then polar bear.”

You try not to flinch away when her hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, it’s something she’s done to you since you were a kid, it feels wrong now though. 

“Let’s just get this over and done with.”

You walk over to your windowsill, reaching behind the curtain and reaching for the bag of joints that you have stashed behind the material. Leah frowns as you walk back over to her, shoving the bag into her hands before she can even ask. 

“This is all of them?”

She looks completely unconvinced, you probably would be too, most kids don’t give up their drugs willingly. 

“Yes.”

Leah looks at you, eye to eye, like she’s trying to reach into your soul, or read your mind. 

“Bubba, this is your chance, I’m giving you an opportunity to be straight with me, and whatever you tell me or give me I won’t be mad about. I might want to sit down and question your decisions, but I won’t be mad. Teenagers are stupid, they make mistakes, they try new things, I get it. Be honest with me bubba, please.”

You didn’t really know what Leah was insinuating, but it was clear that she knew there was a bigger picture here. 

“That’s it mom.”

You had to tear your eyes away from her, you couldn’t handle the way that she was looking at you, the mix of disappointment, resentment and worry mixed into her blue irises. 

“Bubba, don’t make me search your room, don’t make me have to ground you, don’t make me have to call Jord and get her to turn the car around to help me out.”

You brought your eyes back to Leah’s. 

“That’s it mom, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

You were lying through your teeth and the fact you couldn’t look eye to eye with Leah would have been enough of a warning sign of that. 

“Drugs bubba, that’s what I’m talking about, you’re lying straight to my fucking face right now, I don’t know what about or why but you are.”

You didn’t know what to say, you weren’t going to admit it, you couldn’t, but you needed to say something. Fuck, you were so fucked. 

You tried to spin it in your head, tried to think about how you could make this work out. You were caught, you were done, this was bad. 

Your eyes darted to below your bed, rookie fucking mistake. 

Leah caught your line of sight, and you knew as soon as she did that it was all about to go to fucking shit, that you were done for. 

“Lia.”

Your mom’s voice was urgent, a yell that had the swiss woman bounding up the stairs in a matter of seconds. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You were so fucking fucked. 

You were frozen in your spot, your mom’s eyes looking at you like she’d just been stabbed in the heart. 

“Bubba, you can get whatever you are hiding from me or I will get Lia to tear this whole room a part, I’m not fucking around.”

You felt torn down the middle, your brain couldn’t think, you felt the same sickness sink in from this morning, instead of it being withdrawals from drugs though it was the realisation that your whole life was about to be turned upside down. 

You tried to think, tried to think about how you could spin this, make it a little bit better than it really was. 

Lia looked more uncomfortable then possible, you wished a blackhole would randomly pop up and swallow all three of you. 

Something hit you, it wasn’t a full resolution but it was better than what you currently had going for you. 

You walked over to your bed, with unsteadier legs then last night when you were so drunk the world was spinning, crouching down when you got to the edge, feeling for the familiar container that held all of your deepest darkest secrets, or at least that’s how it felt. 

It took you back to a time when you’d made Leah check under your bed everynight for the monsters under your bed, now though she was looking for the monsters in your head, the monsters that had turned her little perfect girl into whatever you were now. 

Your hand eventually met the hard plastic, you pulled it out, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you stood up and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

Leah took a couple steps closer to you, standing directly in front of you. 

“Look, it’s not mine, I only did it twice, my friends bought it over, I swear.”

Half of it was true. 

“Open the box, bubba.”

You felt your throat tighten, you felt like you were going to vomit, or pass out, or have a heart attack. 

“Mom, I didn’t want to, I don’t even like it, I just did it because my friends were, I swear.”

It was also another half truth. 

“Bubba, open the box.”

You bit down even harder on the inside of your cheek, reaching for the edge of the plastic box and opening it, revealing the two baggies of white powder inside of it. 

Leah’s face fell, in a way that you’d never seen, you’d seen her disappointed before, this wasn’t it, it was something else entirely and you weren’t sure what. 

“Bubba.”

Your mom was a overly emotional person, you couldn’t handle her crying right now though, you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t deal with her pretending she gave a shit when this was the first time in months that it felt like she cared, and it was all because of Jordan, not on her own volition. 

“I swear mom, I swear, it’s not mine, I promise.”

It wasn’t a lie, it hadn’t started out as yours, you’re friends had left it behind after a weekend hangout and had never asked for it back, so it technically wasn’t yours, technically. 

“Bubba, what is it?”

Leah reached for the box, picking up the two bags, the bags that you felt like held your whole life together. 

“Cocaine, it’s just a little bit of coke, my friends were using it before parties, I didn’t like it, it made me feel dizzy and it hurt my head.”

The cocaine bit was a lie, but the fact you didn’t like cocaine wasn’t, it was the kind of stimulant which put you into over drive, the high lasted no where near as long and it made you feel like you weren’t making sense.

You were hoping she would believe the cocaine, inevitably, cocaine was a pissy drug. Leah would have been at thousands of parties were cocaine was handed around, hell, you were fairly certain your mother had taken plenty of it. Cocaine was less addictive, good cocaine was also stupidly expensive, the value of it was fucked. Meth was cheap but a thousand times more addictive, cocaine was a better like. 

“Lia, get rid of it.”

Your mom handed the bag of joints over to Lia, as well as the bags of drugs, shoving them into her hands like they were burning her hands. “I don’t even know what to say to you bubba.”

Your mom looked genuinely at a loss for words, her eyes kept darting between your eyes and your hands, which were shaking in front of you. 

“Mom, I promise, it was only a one time thing, really, I was just keeping it for my friends.”

As soon as the tears started spilling down Leah’s face you knew it was about to get bad. 

She walked over to your desk, pulling the chair out from it and dragged it across the room until it was directly in front of you, your mother taking a seat. 

Her hands came out to rest on your knees, they were shaking like yours, not as badly but still shaking, though for different reasons you assumed. 

“You told me the weed was a one time thing, that was a lie. I don’t know what to believe anymore, you’ve put me in a impossible situation, bubba. On one hand, I want to believe you. I want to believe the kid I raised, on the other hand you haven’t given me reason to. You broke my trust, you lied to me, you broke the house rules. I don’t ask a lot of you, I let you get away with more than your ma would let you, and I was fine with it because you were showing me you were a good kid, but now I honestly don’t know what to think. You told me it was just the vapes, I thought you were using a little bit to much nicotine and now it turns out that you’re smoking pot and doing drugs. You’ve been hiding and lying and I just don’t get why. Why bubba? Tell me why.”

Big tears were dripping from your mothers eyes, big, wet, fat tears pooling in her icey blue eyes. 

“I don’t know, okay? I’m sorry mom, I’m really sorry. I’m sorry. I love you, I didn’t mean it, it was just some fun, it was a one time thing, I promise.”

Leah pursed her lips, the same way you were, the sleeve of her shirt was pressed to her face, picking up the tears that were dripping down her jaw. 

“I’m going to go and call your ma, this is a discussion we need to be having together, I need her here for this.”

Little did they know how bad it really was. 

Leah stood up, you thought she would just leave, heading back down to make a call to your ma that would inevitably change your life, instead, she sat down next to you, her arms opening up. 

You leaned into her side, letting her wrap both of her arms around you. 

“I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry.”

It was the only thing you could think of saying, the only thing that sounded right coming off the tip of your tongue. 

“I love you so much my beautiful girl, we’ll figure this out, your ma and I, we’re all going to figure this out.”

Leah held onto you for a little bit longer, her arms tightening onto you like you were holding her down to earth, like she would float away if she didn’t. 

Eventually she let go, her face was puffy and red, her sleeves were red and she sounded all sniffly. 

“I’m going to go and phone Jord, we’re going to sort it all out, we’ll figure this out, okay? We’re both here for you, we both love you so much, you’re our little girl.”

You found it weird how easy it slipped off of her tongue, you wondered if she actually believed that she meant it, you wondered if when your mother said it that she meant it without really meaning it. There were words but there were no actions to support those words, just empty syllables and letters all formed together in a intricate lie. 

You watched as Leah limped her way out of your room, her bad leg trailing behind her good one, rule number one of parenting a child you now know is drug addicted, never leave them alone in a room they can escape from when you’ve just confronted them. 

[tootiecakes234]

The Bet

Part 1

Warnings: smut(MDNI)

You and Katsuki make a bet to see who can go the longest without sex.

This all starts because you’re in bed with Katsuki and he’s trying to keep you there. You have plans to go out with your friends, but he’s trying to lure you with sexy time to stay with him tonight.

“Kit Kat, baby, this girls night has already been rescheduled twice. I can’t cancel again. I-I’m going.”, you try your best to sound stern but he’s pressing kisses up your neck and along your jaw. Asshole knows those are tender spots.

“Mmmm, do you remember when you canceled the first time?? It started off just like this.” His voice is low and thick. Dammit, your legs automatically squeeze together.

“Yes, I do remember actually. Which is why it won’t be happening again Kat. Yo- No! No!” He’d started sliding his hands down your stomach. You know that if he got those thick fingers of his inside your panties, you’d end up just like last time.

You roll yourself away from him and get to your feet. When you look over at him he’s half way from under the sheet with his muscled chest and arms on display. He’s also sporting that sexy ass smirk of his.

“ You need to learn how to keep your hands off of me.”, you give him a firm look and all he does is chuckle.

“Y/n, You’re saying that shit now, but you don’t say it when you’re cumming because of ‘em…. But if that’s what you want, I can do that.”, he says all smug.

“You can do what?”, you ask him suspiciously. You start moving about getting yourself together so you can leave soon.

Katsuki’s watching you for a reaction, “ I’ll keep my hands off you.… that is until you beg me.”, he says it so casually. Like you’ve already started begging him. Like he’s already won a game you haven’t started playing yet.

You stare him dead in the eye, “ Please! Katsuki, you wanna play that game with me?? If anything you’ll be on your knees begging me to give you some. You’re an addict.”

You notice the gleam in his eye before he even speaks, “ Ha, me beg?. You living in the same reality as me?? Oh!! This is what your friends mean when they call you “delulu””.

“Babe, have I ever told you how funny you are?? Ha ha… cuz if I did I was lying. I do wanna play your game tho, but we gotta make it interesting.”, you’re grinning at him now.

The two of you are beyond competitive. You knew this was gonna be fun.

“ Ok then, we make a bet. No more sex starting now and the first one to cave, which is gonna be you, loses. Winner gets to decide on the punishment.”

“You’re on. I need to decide my punishment quick. You’ll probably fold before tomorrow.”, you answer him in the cheekiest tone you can muster.

Katsuki gets up from the bed, walks over to you, and leans down to your ear to whisper, “ You have no fucking idea what you just got yourself into sweet girl, but I look forward to hearing you beg for me.”

Fuck, that got you a little. Your mouth is slightly open when he pulls back from you and he’s grinning. He knows it got to you.

“You don’t wanna keep your friends waiting, hurry up and get dressed. I’ll drop you off.”

The bastard already thinks he’s won. Well he’s gotta another thing coming. You aren’t going down without a fight.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[lazorbeanz]

Late night

Unbreakable Bond Headcanons

• when Tails’ fur has grown out quite a bit, sonic will tie up his long fur to give him lil pigtails

• Tails really likes Owl City, and will frequently play the albums on the speakers in his lab while he’s tinkering around on his projects. He finds the songs very relaxing to him….But when a banger or a really good part of a song comes on, he turns up the speaker volume and it becomes a dancing musical number in his lab. If sonic is there, it a dance off against his older brother…he gets no work done afterwards

• tails will randomly decide to fly up to the nearest tree, cling onto one of the branches and cry out to sonic for help, who will rush over and help bring him down safely. Tails will be like “thank you! 😊” and go back to his day. Meanwhile sonic stops and pauses, suddenly realising his baby brother was plenty capable of getting down himself in the first place

• Tails uses Scratch (it’s a fun, goofy lil coding program) to make silly little games for Cream or Charmy to play when he visits them. Sometimes he’ll teach his friends how to do a simple code on it.

• Often at times he will catch Sonic playing his scratch games. He’ll go into his brother’s room, and find the hedgehog sitting on his bed, face glued to the screen on his phone, his quills raised in deep concentration. Who knew his brother was so keen on trying to set the record for catching the most falling tacos?

• Sonic will look up to find his little brother leaning on the door frame. “Isn’t it a little too…I don’t know…childish, for you?” the fox teased, in which Sonic retorts in a backfiring of compliments and rambling on about what almost appears to be his newest addiction. Deep inside, Tails is overjoyed that his brother loves his work so much, despite its such simplicity.

• Sonic could look Tails dead in the eye, and still not catch a single word he said

Tails: …okay you copy that?

Sonic: …🙂 (imagine that small loading symbol over his head lol)

Tails: *sigh* so as I was saying…

• So in the Mario and Sonic Olympic Games (specifically the 2020 one) sonic does this victory emote in soccer when he scores a goal…I like to call it the Airplane..

Sonic heads outside about to go on another run, when he spots Tails running around doing the Airplane. Tails sees his brother and runs to meet him.

“Whatcha doin’ bud?” Sonic asks, ruffling his hand through the fur on the kit’s head

“I’m you!” He responds, explaining about his victory moves he did in the Olympics.

“You’re so cool..” Tails looks up at his older brother, his big baby blue eyes sparkling in admiration of his favourite person.

It took everything in Sonic’s being not to break down sobbing after those words.

Then Tails grabs Sonic’s hand, begging him to do the airplane with him.

Why go run anywhere else when you can run around in circles, being silly with your greatest admirer, supporter, fan…brother

[wtfyangjungwon]

DRUNK-DAZED

member : lee heeseung

au : vampire!heeseung x human!reader

genre : fluff, suggestive

a/n : here is part two of the enhypen 3yr anniversary!

summary : vampire heeseung gets drunk off the scent of his partner's blood after catching a whiff of the sweet scent. and he begs for a taste.

warnings : mentions of blood, biting, kissing, not proofread, begging , switch!heeseung

the sweet scent of blood wavered through heeseung's nose. he furrowed his eyebrows and looked around his apartment. his partner was at work so he shouldn't be smelling their blood.

keys jingle from the outside of his front door and it opens, heeseung moving his head to look. in the doorway, was you standing there, drenched in rain water and a patch of blood on the knee of your sweatpants.

" what happened?" heeseung got up from the couch quickly and moved towards your side. his doe eyes searching your face for any clues. you smiled softly at the worried boy. " i'm okay, hee. it started raining on my way home and i slipped on the wet concrete."

his lips turn into a pout and you couldn't help but place a gentle kiss on his lips. " i'm okay, i promise. " you whispered against his lips. heeseung nodded and pulled away from your body.

" let's get you some new clothes. you're soaking wet and you're bleeding so we need to clean up your knee. " heeseung grabbed your hand and led you to his room. he grabbed on of his hoodies and a pair of his boxers and handed them to you. " put these on. after you get changed, go to the kitchen. we need to clean your wound before it gets infected. " you nodded your head and he left the room to grab the first aid kit.

----

a couple minutes later, you walked out of his room and headed towards the kitchen. you saw heeseung making ramen for the two of you. he turned around once he heard your small footsteps along the wooden floor. he smiled at you and he grabbed the first aid kit off the counter and headed towards you.

" sit, baby. " heeseung gestures to the chair beside the table. you took a seat and watched him ad he got on his knees in front of you. you reached forward and placed a hand in his hair. heeseung looked up at you, his brown doe eyes , searching your face. " are you okay, hee? you look like you want something."

the smell of your blood was invading his nose. it was sweet to him. like chocolate was to you. it was like an addiction waiting to happen. heeseung wanted you in ways that he couldn't say. his face was heating up and his eyes were glistening a dark red.

when you saw this, you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands and bent your body closer. your face was inches apart and you could feel his breath on your skin. " whatever you want, take it. i trust you. "

that one sentence broke heeseung. he immediately got up and crashed his lips against yours. his hands roamed your body before one ends up on your neck. your sweet scent still invading his nose. his breath quickens as he heard your whimpers, and your hands gripping his shirt.

" can i please have a taste? i've been craving it since you walked through that door. please, baby? i'll be good. i won't play my games while you're here. i'll pay attention to you. please i just want a taste of you. " heeseung begged against your skin.

" go ahead sweet boy."

that drove him over the edge. you felt a stinging against your neck and your hand automatically went to his hair, gripping the dark blue almost black strands.

you felt his hot tongue press against the bite mark to soothe down whatever pain he may have caused you. heeseung pulled back to look at you.

your face was flushed red, your face glistening with sweat. your hair was partially dry from the rain. your chest was moving up and down as you were breathing heavily.

the sight alone was arousing and he bent down face to face with you. he leaned towards towards your face, blood on the corner of his lips and his fangs on display.

" now it's my turn to have my way with you. "

[canmom]

so hades 2 huh

it's fun! i am more convinced after actually playing it than i was in the runup to it. the green colour palette looked a little drab in the videos but it works better for me fullscreen in game, and I really like the second zone's design. the major aesthetic change does go a little way towards making this feel like 'new Supergiant game' instead of just a rehash of the first game.

the difficulty floor is higher than the first game. i think it's well-tuned to go into if you've beaten that one. so far i've played 6 runs, seen the first boss in 5, and and beaten her in 2 of them; yet to get more than about halfway through the second zone after that tho!

the new mana mechanic is kinda interesting, lots of tradeoffs to make. it's a bit more granular than the cast in the first game; you use it to do powered up versions of your attacks, and spending it also charges up the Call-equivalent.

i'm increasingly intrigued by the setting, and i really like some of the side characters like arachne. i think the time skip was a good decision - the story of Zagreus et al. was definitely done. the epilogue ending of the first game was way too neat.

still, starting a revenge plot in media res is curious. especially when Nemesis lampshades the lack of personal motivation. compared to Zagreus's very pressing and relatable motivation (run away from my abusive dad), Melinoë's motivation is a little more abstract - this seems to be deliberate. but it does a fair bit to sell the sort of 'desperate resistance base' setting. it definitely seems rather like they're setting up a twist down the line. but it lacks the immediate emotional hook of the overbearing patriarch in the first game. curious to see how it will work once I've seen more of the story.

as far as the new gods, I'm fascinated by the decision to make Hephaestus and Hestia both be Northern - probably Yorkshire. it's always fun hearing regional UK accents in games. they do also both feel like responses to the criticism that Jen Z never designs fat characters lmao. still, they are good designs. both have satisfying mechanics. Selene also has a really good design I think.

the other gods' mechanics have naturally been redesigned to fit the new game. still broadly the same themes, e.g. Zeus will still be lightning based, but different interpretations of what that means, so for example you have 'hitting an enemy produces a lightning blast behind them' as the primary Zeus mechanic instead of chain lightning. which definitely keeps things fresh. Melinoë's kit has a lot of directional attacks and, with the Cast now being an AOE which slows/freezes enemies, there's a lot more emphasis now on positioning enemies to set up AOE attacks which is interesting.

the witch stuff is quite fun in an admittedly slightly cheesy way. it's definitely pull on aesthetic currents which aren't at all Ancient Greek, like the pointed hats. but hey! I can get into it, it's not like the game's aesthetic has ever been all that strictly historical. even if I am still scratching my head at 'so mote it be'. apparently it's an archaic word meaning 'may', i.e. 'may it be so'.

of course the main thing is, the actual moment to moment gameplay is fun. it flows just as the first game did, and it's just as addictive with the way it spreads out story breadcrumbs. the vfx and such look great, the movement is already super tightly tuned (tbf it's basically the same as the first game with the addition of a new 'hold dash to sprint'), and there's a already good variety of enemy mechanics.

there's some obvious placeholders for some of the UI art and character portraits (notably none of the keepsakes have been drawn yet), but overall it's surprisingly polished for an early-access build. all the voice acting is already there - it's fun seeing the Supergiant voice cast return in new roles.

the meta progression element... there's some neat ideas, like an upgrade system with a limited set of slots that very much calls to mind NieR Automata's chip system. so there are some stronger tradeoffs to make; it's not as simple as 'spend resource, get better' as it was in the first game. and it's clearly possible to advance quite far even without a lot of meta resource investment. so far it definitely feels like my main limit is skill, and I'll progress further once I learn more of the enemy patterns and figure out what builds I like to play.

(though I guess the idea with this kind of game is that the power ups quietly boost you and make it feel like you're getting better a lot faster than you are just learning the game lmao)

overall, it's just really fun to have another Supergiant game to sink my teeth into haha. I still wish they'd continued their streak of coming up with new IPs each time, because they'd come up with fantastic settings, but there's plenty of interest here still.

also the more I work in game dev the more I can appreciate just what a ludicrous amount of polish there is in Supergiant's games. I can only imagine the amount of work it must have taken to tune the feel of everything this tight.

[graveyardvalentinee]

confessions / neymar jr

Pairing : Neymar x Reader

Warnings : light smut

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

It was supposed to be a secret.

Just between the two of us.

We both knew how stupid and risky it was. Sneaking around , meeting up any where we could just to get a simple taste of each other.

We knew the if it ever got out the media would go crazy.

But we couldn’t help ourselves. It was almost as if we were addicted to one another , which from my side - wasn’t entirely wrong.

We would go to the same places , have friends in common , watch each other across the room , then with no one knowing ; go home together.

Having the time of our lives.

Which is exactly what is happening now.

Except - instead of going over to his house and letting him take me however he wanted all night long , we are now at my apartment trying to sort out how in the world we we’re going to explain to the media why Neymar did what he did.

“We can just tell everyone you’re my cousin.” He says. Is he actually serious ?

“Your cousin ? Really Neymar. I don’t think you say things like that about your cousin , and if you - then that will be an even bigger problem.”

“Well why don’t you come up with something better , huh!” He says slightly raising his voice at me.

“ME ? Why me! If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be in this mess meu deus.” [ my god ] I argue back , standing up from the kitchen stool and getting in his face. He was being so irrational.

“What did you want me to do Y/N. Stay there and watch him put his hands all over you like he owns you or something ? And you - watching me while he fucking does it like it’s funny or something.”

“You’re not the innocent one here. You let that skank drool all over you on the dance floor , sweet talking into her ear the whole time!”

“Plus - you are the one who made it very clear this was just us having fun from the beginning.” I add.

Even tho there were times when you two weren’t just with each other for sex , sometimes it was much more. But knowing Neymar and his past you tried to never let it get to your head.

“Foda-se ela , she is nothing to me. Who do I bring home ? Who do I pour my all into every time we’re together ?” [ fuck her ] He shouts , his face so serious but - his eyes full of something I can’t make out.

“Me , it has been me for the past 8 months. But that does not give you the right to beat the guy senseless.” I say , grabbing his hands that are still bruised and bloody , bringing him to the couch and getting the first aid kit.

“I know I’m the one who implied just sex in the beginning ; mas deus - I’m so tired of everyone thinking you don’t belong to me!” [but god]

What? Is he implying what I think he is?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

2 hours earlier

The dark liquor burned my throat.

I didn’t mind tho , Neymar dancing with some blonde chick was enough to make me want to get drunk senseless and dance all night.

Screw his plans of taking me to his house.

I catch this guy eyeing me and make my way to him.

I get a good look at him - blue eyes , sand blonde straight hair ,tall but a lanky build.

Perfect , Neymar’s opposite.

I lean into his ear and whisper “Want to dance querido?” Wasting no time in small talk , just wanting to show Neymar he’s not the only one who can play at this game.

“Gladly sweet heart” gross.

On the dance floor I let him get behind me , placing his hands on my hips while I start swaying my hips to the music.

I spot Neymar across the club from me , his hands still wrapped around the skank. He smirks - actually smirks.

That asshole.

I bring the guys hands tighter around me , letting him nuzzle his face into my neck. I giggle ; pretending I like it.

The beat of the song changes to a more sensual tone , causing me to slowly grind on the guy - god I don’t even know his name.

All this going on while me and Neymar hold eye contact , his eyes piercing into mine.

I wink at him.

Suddenly the guy moves my hair to the side and starts to kiss along my neck. His hands now roaming all around my body.

“Let’s take this to my place , it’s on West Street.”

I ignore his comment and turn back to look at Neymar - only that he’s no longer where he was , he’s now walking , no marching my way. Shooting daggers with his eyes at the guy behind me.

Oh fuck.

“What do you think you’re doing Y/N.” Neymar spits at me.

“I- I was just - ”

“She’s having fun with me , as you can clearly see man. It’d be nice if you’d leave us alone.” The guy says.

“Oh you both were having fun.” Neymar says loudly while laughing.

Some eyes turn to us.

“That’s Neymar Jr!” “And that’s the model Y/N!” I hear people whispering.

Shit.

“Well we were about to continue the fun at my place until you decided to bother us.”

I can tell Neymar’s insanely drunk by the way his eyes are droopy and slanted. His jaw clenches before be looks between me and the guy.

“What’s your name huh?” He asks.

“Alexander why?”

“Neymar just cut it out , let’s leave.” I cut in , trying to end all of this considering almost every one in the club is now watching.

“Oh - so you do know him.” Alexander says sounding annoyed. I can tell Neymar gets even angrier by his remark.

“Of course she knows me! I make her mine anywhere , every fucking chance I get! Just ask her! She enjoys every second of it.” Neymar shouts.

No, no, no no no.

Did he really just say that. In front of everyone.

“I can make you forget all about him beautiful.” Alexander says to me while smirking.

I have no time to say anything back when Neymar suddenly lunges forward and punches Alexander straight in the jaw , causing him to loose his balance and fall on the floor. Neymar gets on top of him , one hand grabbing the guy by his collar - before saying ;

“You’re going no where with her!” Before punching him in the face again.

“She’s mine!” Another punch. And another.

Everything around me is blocked out and all I can do is stand here and watch. I can hear people yelling for security.

Neymar is still on top of the guy beating him to a pulp when the security guy comes and pulls him off.

“You two OUT NOW!” The security yells pointing at me and Neymar.

Neymar gets up and wipes the blood from his hands on his shirt. His eyes looking up - meeting mine.

I reach for his hands , trying to get us out of here. I look around and notice people with phones out recording.

This is bad. Horribly bad. By morning this will be all over the media. Headlines everywhere. This was the last thing I wanted to happen tonight.

Taking Neymar’s hands in mine I turn around heading towards the exit before we hear Alexander talking yet again

“If you every get tired of him sweet heart , you know where to find me.”

Is he asking for it at this point ?

Neymar tries to lunge at him once more before the security guard grabs him from behind - almost dragging him out of the club , not before Neymar yells back

“Tired of me? The only one getting tired is her from us going at it all night idiota!”

“You wish you could have her - but you never fucking will!”

At this point it’s getting kind of funny. This guy is getting humiliated in front of everyone by the actual Neymar Jr.

And the way Neymar is talking about me strangely makes me swoon - even if what he’s saying about me is highly inappropriate. It’s almost as if he’s saying I’m his. Jesus , what has gotten into me.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

present time

I shake my head and sigh.

He can’t be serious. Neymar is not the relationship type - especially if we’ve been keeping this going for months. If he really wanted something he could’ve spoken up earlier.

“Neymar you’re drunk. You’re speaking none sense.” I say , my voice slightly breaking.

Knowing the feelings I have for him don’t make it any easier on me.

“I’m past drunk Y/N. Me and you both know this isn’t just sex anymore.” He says looking up and meeting my eyes. His hands still wrapped around mines from me bandaging them up.

We’ve been this close before so many times , hell, we’re basically glued to each other every time we’re together but this. This feels different.

“Two people just having casual sex don’t lay together for hours after. They don’t fly from country to country just to be together for merely 5 hours. They don’t cancel important events just so one can go comfort the other after a bad day.” He continues.

And he’s right. I know he’s right. We both know he is.

“I never thought about it that way before Juninho.” Lie. I think about it all the time. Every time we are together.

He takes his hands away from mine and stands up , shaking his head.

“You’re lying to yourself querida! I can see it clearly on your face.”

Silence. No words come out of my mouth.

“Why aren’t you saying anything ? Is it because of the way I talked about you in the club? Listen , im sorry , I should not have talked about you in that way. I was drunk and just wanted to find a way to make him back off. I now see that speaking of you in that way was not the answer.”

“It is not that Neymar.”

“Then what! What is it ? What are you afraid of-”

Meu deus.

“I’m afraid that I’m so deeply attached to you , it fucking terrifies me. I have been ever since the first night we spent together. Those feelings have always been there for me! And for you to just out of no where come to me with all of this? You could’ve spoken up way earlier instead of dragging it out this long.” I finally said it. The feelings I have been trying to push down and avoid for months are now out there.

It’s his turn to be silent now.

I feel a wave of embarrassment go over me. I probably came off too strong. He’s probably changed his mind about this whole thing now. I ruined it - the chance I had with him is now gone.

“Look who’s the silent one now. Just forget I said anything , I’ll contact my manager tomorrow morning to find a way to settle this whole mess. You can sleep on the couch for tonight.” I rush out , trying to get up as quickly as I can and go to my room to escape the heavy awkwardness in the room.

I always end up embarrassing myself like this. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.

I make my way past him , not daring to look back. Tears slowly fill my eyes but I push them straight back in. He will not get tears out of me.

Before I can open the door to my room I feel his hand wrap around my wrist. He turns me around and pushes me against my bedroom door , his hands on either side of my head.

“I have been waiting for you to admit those words to me even before the first night we slept together. When I first saw you at Lionel’s wedding I couldn’t take my eyes off you the whole night. Every time I’m with you , I block out the whole world - wishing we could stay wrapped up within each other forever. You have nothing to be afraid of with me because I’d give up anything to make you mines Y/N. If I would’ve known you felt like that I would’ve spoken up months ago.”

He lets out a breath , staring deeply into my eyes.

“Please don’t tell me it’s too late …” he whispers.

I don’t respond back. Instead I grab his face smashing our lips together. I cling onto his shoulders , his hair , his back , trying to grasp as much of him as I can. He stands there shocked for a moment by my action before kissing me back with even more hunger.

He breaks the kiss first , both of us gasping for air.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He questions.

“A million times yes.”

He grins before picking me up , causing me to wrap my legs around him. He gently settles me down on my bed , hovering over me. Gently laying kisses on my neck and upper chest.

His hands come up my sides , caressing every inch of my body. His eyes slowly roaming all of me while he slips off my dress. Then reaching behind me to unclasp my bra , he dives straight into my chest , licking and sucking my breasts. One of his hands comes up to grasp my nipple , while the other goes down and brushes over my clothed center.

He applies a bit more pressure , and by this point I’m a mewling mess. Panting heavily. Tired of being patient.

“Ney… please” I moan.

He meets my gaze , smirking while still sucking on my breasts.

“Hmm? Please what linda?” He teases , rubbing slow circles on my clit.

He’s the absolute death of me.

“Please - fuck me. I can’t … I can’t take this anymore.” I have no control of the words coming out of my mouth by this point.

“Meu deus, I’ll never get over how gorgeous you are. Having you spread out - all for me , just for me…” [my god]

“I’m yours , forever.” I whisper , running my hands through his curls.

“Forever mines , yes , because I’m never letting you go.”

He comes back up to my face , kissing me with so much passion , pulling my hands above my head and intertwining them with his.

The next few hours were spent with us breathlessly and hungrily going at each other.

While laying together after , Neymar mentions over and over again how long he has been waiting for this moment - for us to finally become ; us.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

my first one shot ever , i definitely want to write more of these and don’t have many ideas so if anyone would want to request some ideas - please do! hope you guys enjoy ✰

[rainylana]

Modern!Eddie Headcanons

warnings: mentions of eddie being a fuckboy, tinder and inappropriate pictures sent on snapchat.

• addicted to mountain dew and energy drinks. crumbles up the cans and throws them anywhere but a trash can.

• has a snap score of like 2 million because he’s such a fuckboy. he’s always snapping girls trying to meet up with them. he’s always sending pics with his shirt off or in his boxers, showing off his bulge. he gets blocked by half of everyone he adds.

• goes to the gym when he’s not playing video games, but he had a hard time keeping his eyes of the girls. he’s always listening to ozzy or metallica in his airpods.

• he loves game of thrones and the walking dead tv shows.

• probably abuses uber eats and door dash. he wakes wayne up in the middle of the night when the doorbell is going off because he ordered taco bell at 2:30 in the morning.

• he’s really into fashion, i think. always ordering new clothes and jewelry to try out. he likes to order off shein and the tiktok shop.

• spends absolute HOURS on his phone. his screen time results are always like twenty hours. he’s usually going back between snapchat and tiktok, which he definitely posts thirst traps on.

• is always taking those online buzzfeed quizzes to see “what animal are you?” or “what alcohol beverage represents your personality?” he gets.

• he’s always swiping on tinder and updating his account with a new picture.

• speaking of tiktok, i think he’d order the chamoy pickle kit and try it, would probably be really excited and absolutely hate it.

• would upload his songs on spotify and soundcloud. i don’t think he’d have his band in the modern au, but i do think he’d still love music and liked to record himself singing while playing the guitar.

• would absolutely love the lord of the rings and hobbit movies! always dresses as aragorn when he goes to comic con with his buddies. dustin is always samwise the brave. also really likes harry potter!

• as far as modern bands go, i think he’d really like greta van fleet!

[bonefall]

god i have a physical copy of moth flight’s vision and i remember loving it as a kid, but i literally don’t remember anything but moth flight’s drug abuse, rocky’s drug abuse, and how moth flight is basically a teen when she gets pregnant,,, holy shit man

It's weird how the drug abuse is the thing that stands out to people about MFV lmao, I forget about it pretty often.

Maybe it's because it's the only time drug addiction was relevant in WC, where misogyny and Clear Sky armpit sucking is par for the course. Clear Sky's suckable armpit is even starting to infect the main series, with a bunch of cameos in modern books.

This book is full of weird shit though. Like... I wouldn't be able to fit it all into one post.

Moth Flight's a freakjob who's vindictive and refusing help all book long

Micah has no personality.

The kits just do whatever the plot needs them to do. Fall in a river. Distract their mother begging for games. Feel sad they're being divided, and then go "oh ok :)"

Clear Sky.

The women are punished violently and men are barely held accountable for their own actions

Acorn Fur gets demonized out of NO WHERE when she's absolutely suffering in the background, ending with a StarClan dogpile.

Moth Flight keeps getting possessed by Woman Instincts and running to her kits to justify the stupid rule.

It's agony. It's a profoundly painful and frustrating book, just like the rest of DOTC.

[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 ♡

[the-californicationist]

twenty questions for fic writers!

thank you for the tag @crashtestbunny 🩷 i've been looking forward to this questionnaire!

here's my AO3 link if anyone needs it

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

91

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

503410

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Call of Duty (AO3)

Game of Thrones (AO3)

Blacklist (AO3)

Doctor Who (Private)

True Blood (Private)

Firefly (Private)

Star Wars (Private)

4. top five fics by kudos

Guile & Guilt (COD: Soap/Reader)

The Window (COD: Poly141/Reader)

Gunslinger (COD: Price/Reader)

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes! I try to respond to all my comments. I miss them sometimes, but for the most part, I try to get to every one.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Budapest (COD: Price/Reader) TW: Major Character Death

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Good Fences (COD: Price/Reader)

8. do you get hate on fics?

No. I would cry. Keep the hate to yourselves, please. I'm like an unguarded marshmallow of a person.

9. do you write smut?

I think that's the only thing I can write.

10. craziest crossover:

Gravitational Shift (COD/Star Wars: Price/Sith Female OC)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, luckily I'm not famous enough for that.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Gunslinger (COD: Price/Reader) is available in Russian.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

The Sin Eater (COD: Monster!Price/Reader) is co-authored with the illustrious @vampirekilmerfic. When our lives calm down, we'll be finishing the damn thing. 🩷

I am also working on a Regency!Price fic with @ofdivinity01 TBA soon. 🩷

14. all time favorite ship?

SanSan

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I will finish them all.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue

Descriptions of dicks

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Pacing. I'm always in such a hurry.

Lack of variety. I'm addicted to the HEA.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I have my PhD in Linguistics, so any chance I get, I love to include languages and dialects different from Standard English.

I spent about a month researching the difference between German and Austrian for Guardian (COD: Konig/FemOC). Probably should've spent some time researching the actual video game, but I was too horny.

When I read fics with other languages in them, it makes it feel more realistic to me, and I really enjoy it when authors throw in any locale-specific socio-cultural information as well.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter

20. favorite fic you've written?

Goldfish (GOT: Sandor/Sansa). I love it. I'm so proud of myself for what I was able to accomplish with that fic. Horrible reception, though.

In my COD collection, it would have to be Gunslinger, but I think Ursa Major might give it a run for its money.

NPTs: @vampirekilmerfic // @kit-williams // @deadbranch

[trolling-the-interwebs]

in case you want to know how I'm doing, I pulled her at 9 o'clock this morning and I've been in a GREAT mood since

[cunty-pink-porsche]

which fe drivers are the best at mcc games?

obviously inspired by @akantonelli ’a amazing f1 version of this post. here is my even more niche fe rendition.

ace race: mitch who always has to mute and deafen and complain to his chat. you would think he’s doing bad if you’re just listening to him but he has the record for most of the maps

battle box: jev is crazy at this and can adapt to all the different kits and maps. antonio knows this and almost always wool-rushes his team.

tgttos: pascal is the most consistent. edo nails terra swoop force every time. andre punches people a lot.

survival games: resident cod addict dan is really good but sweats too much. one time he got teamkilled (lava’d) by sergio and ragequit, missing the rest of the tournament. sergio was laughing the entire time.

buildmart: seb can be very good at it if people let him micromanage them. cass is a very fast builder and can definitely win with him but finds it way too funny to rile him up instead.

parkour tag: ollie rowland is a good hunter, sacha is a good runner and also makes good calls

parkour warrior: jake hughes is pretty good at the new format

gridrunners: it took a while for antonio to learn the game but once he did he is great. however if he gets stuck on something he might opt to just do bits with norman instead.

sands of time: robin is the best sandkeeper and pascal is a good runner. they work well together also.

meltdown: max is very good with the bow and can lead a team to victory if they cooperate

sky battle: nick cassidy thrives amongst the chaos. he once wiped out two teams with a creeper while laughing maniacally

bingo but fast: jake dennis figured out that you could pvp and dominated the game. then they turned off pvp.

hitw: nyck is cracked at this but everyone complains that he’s cheating (sometimes it bugs out and he benefits from it, what can I say)

rocket spleef: sam is obviously good (sorry) but edo is better at the extremely fast paced maps

bonuses:

jake hughes sweats petting the cats in the lobby

lucas is always commenting on the game design and once ranted about buildmart for 5 minutes straight until jake dennis left the call

andre started appearing on the admin streams and predicted jev to be the first b2b winner

ollie rowland was on track to beat the point record once and then his internet died

stoff used to be able to rig the audience vote until they changed the system to least votes

cass loves to sing along to the music, much to his teammates’ dismay

[officialclangen]

I'm loving the new update so far! Everyone's done an amazing job and made this game entirely too addicting

I am curious though, how do some of the new traits work on patrols? Like kit-sitters, lore keepers, etc. I love the depth it can add to the cats, but I'm wondering what effects it can have since I've only seen them with elders before

Some don't have much practical use at the moment! They will be expanded on in future updates <3

☆ Fable ☆

[nuclearforest]

Crack Millennium headcanons because nothing is serious and they all deserve to be mocked like the fools they are:

Major Montana Max: an idol stan. His fav is Love Live and his fav generation is Mu's. He has multiple instances of the rhythm game app and has spent literal houses worth of money to win his favorite gacha pulls.

Doc: runs the anime bathtub wiki and can identify anime girls by their feet.

Captain: probably has an OnlyFans or influencer level Instagram where he works out and sells his bath water to fund all his furry commissions because all of Millennium's funding goes to Montana's gacha addiction.

Zorin: is a reigning champion on the hit reality TV show Naked and Afraid. She has almost killed and eaten her partners because they were useless and she didn't want to see a dick for a month.

Rip: is a Disney adult. Her room is stuffed with merch and when Frozen comes out everybody in the base learns the words to Let It Go.

Schrodinger: is given access to the equivalents of those 1950s chemistry kits and has a copy of the anarchists cookbook. He's about halfway through all the recipes.

Jan: is The Man to consult on dick pic composition. Surprising understanding of lighting, pose, and frame content. Regularly consults with the Captain on how to maximize thirst traps.

Luke: most definitely catfishes people on dating apps as a hobby. His longest running is an LDR going on 2 years.

Tubalcain: has a thing for cougars. Regularly goes out to his local casinos to pick up old tourists and get pampered for the night.

Bonus Dark Walter: goes to various slam poetry nights exclusively to dunk on the poets. He has an Oxford education and does nothing with it beyond being a Mean Girl to the point he's regularly kicked out if venues. His own edgy ass poetry is surprisingly good.

[dragonagekeeper]

Advisors /  Dragon Age Inquisition Polls

See quest and choice descriptions from Dragon Age Wiki/Keep below

Perseverance is Cullen's personal quest in Dragon Age: Inquisition.

 Cullen will throw his lyrium kit off the desk in a fit of rage. He tells you about his past, about being tortured by demons at the Circle in Ferelden, and how it's changed him. He further explains how his experiences in Kirkwall and Meredith's madness have affected him. He says that he should give as much to the Inquisition as he did to the Chantry, and concludes that he should take lyrium. 

Didn't talk to Cullen about lyrium

The Inquisitor did not talk to Cullen about his lyrium use.

2. Told Cullen to use lyrium

Needing the commander at his best, the Inquisitor encouraged Cullen to resume using lyrium.

If you romance him, urge him to take lyrium again and re-affirm that choice later, Cullen will break up with the Inquisitor.

Epilogue for Trespasser:

Taking lyrium, Inquisition peacekeeping force

Cullen seemed to tire of his duties after the Inquisition transitioned to a peacekeeping role. Within a few months, he announced his retirement.

Taking lyrium, Inquisition disbanded

After the Inquisition disbanded, Cullen refused offers of employment, made polite farewells, and disappeared.

Taking lyrium, general

There was no sign of him until a year later, when Scout Harding heard rumors of a Fereldan man begging for lyrium in the streets of Val Chevin. According to Harding, the man she found was in the final stages of lyrium madness. He barely remembered himself, let alone her. It is unclear whether Harding gave the man a few coins, or a gentle knife to end his misery. What is clear is that Commander Cullen was gone.

3. Told Cullen to use lyrium until after the war

Needing Cullen at his best, the Inquisitor encouraged him to temporarily resume the highly addictive lyrium regime until the war was over.

4. Told Cullen not to use lyrium

The Inquisitor supported Cullen's decision to fight his addiction.

If you urged Cullen to stay his course and give up lyrium permanently, once he is ready to talk again, a cutscene will play where you discuss how he's coping.

Epilogue for base game if Templars were recruited and Cullen does not use lyrium post-Inquisition:

Many follow in the footsteps of Commander Cullen, going through the slow and agonizing process of lyrium withdrawal.

Epilogue for Trespasser:

Not taking lyrium, Inquisition peacekeeping force

After the Inquisition transitioned to a peacekeeping role, Cullen continued to serve as commander of its forces. Under his leadership, the Inquisition protected the Divine's interests while enforcing new standards of security. Cullen also expanded the Chantry's treatment for templars whose minds were taken by lyrium, as well as those who wished to cease lyrium usage. And as chaos reigned in the North and threats to the Divine lurked in every shadow, Cullen remained ready to serve.

Romanced, not taking lyrium, peacekeeping Inquisition

After the Inquisition transferred to a peacekeeping role, Cullen and the Inquisitor were able to spend more time together. Cullen continued to serve as commander of the Inquisition forces, aiding the Inquisitor in service to Divine Victoria.

Not taking lyrium, Inquisition disbanded

After the Inquisition disbanded, Cullen retired from active service. He returned to Ferelden, establishing a sanctuary for former templars, on land Divine Victoria granted to him. With his help, many templars shed their lyrium addiction... and those whose minds were too far gone spent their last days in comfort. And he promised that, should his friends from the old Inquisition ever need him, his blade would be ready.

Romanced, Inquisition disbanded

After the Inquisition disbanded, Cullen and the Inquisitor retired to a private life together. Unburdened by the restrictions of their offices, they continued doing good works on their own terms.

Inquisitor marriage, general

That is, after a long-overdue visit to Cullen's siblings, who were overjoyed to meet their new sister-in-law.