#maybe because those are things and this got personal

[eleganzadellarosa]

Forgive and Forget

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader

genre: smut (fluff if you pat your head and rub your stomach)

warnings: MDNI!!! (size kink (sorry I can’t help it, he’s just so big 😍), oral (f receiving), slight manhandling, breeding, lots of cum)

word count: will update later

A/N: it’s about that time yall, he always slithers into my brain at some point in time 🙄💕it took everything in me to not throw in some dacryphilia, the parasites in me really wanted to. Honestly I have nothing else to say except enjoy and thanks for reading :)

You’re far too in it to remember what the argument was about, but you knew you were right. It wasn’t often that you and Mingyu had disagreements of this caliber, most of the time they were “friendly”. Right now you’re angry, very angry actually, over something that you still don’t remember but you’re making sense and he’s clearly in the wrong. He raised his voice at you and vice versa, the argument was pretty heated but that was as far as it would ever go.

“You’re not even acknowledging that you’re wrong right now Gyu and you know you are!” Your finger was pointed but you were more so pointing at the space around him than at the actual person.

“Baby it doesn’t even matter, I know I’m wrong I just don’t like what you said!

He knew he upset you but the things you were blaming him for weren’t true and that’s kind of how the argument started; he just wanted to clear his name. You were so infuriating at times like these, standing your ground and not taking no for an answer.

“Fine whatever! I’m over this!” You threw your hands up and went to walk away but he grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back toward him.

He first caught you by the waist then held your face in his hands. You looked so pretty all the time, even when you were angry. He hated fighting with you, it made his heart ache and he always subconsciously thought you hated him a bit every time it was over. He knew that was a stupid idea and way to feel because you obviously loved him but he couldn’t help but be nervous. You couldn’t hate him, it would tear him up from the inside.

“Baby I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean to make you upset right?” He rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs.

Your heart softened seeing the slight pout on his face. You didn’t like it either; raising your voice at each other as if you had no love in your hearts. “Mm” a small whimper of agreement leaving your throat because if you spoke, maybe your eyes would start to water.

“You forgive me? Hmm?” He kissed the top of your nose and touched his forehead to yours. When you nodded and he saw the early glimmers of tears in your eyes, he got down on his knees. “You sure? I won’t know unless you say it.” He ran the edge of his nails up the back of your thighs; you forgot you wore this little skirt.

Your cheeks were burning and no thoughts ran through your head as you watched this man who was obviously bigger than you, beg for your forgiveness on his knees as if you were the keeper of his soul. You were always weak to those puppy eyes he would give you so unintentionally but that only signified just how desperate he was to hear what he needed in order to feel better. He was kissing at your stomach now, one hand still on your thigh and the other under your shirt.

“Of course I forgive you Gyu.”

“Really baby? You don’t hate me?”

Hate him? You could never hate him; he never gave you reason to. “Why would hate you Gyu? I love you so much.” You gently caressed his face with your hand.

That put a smile on his face and he wrapped his big arms around your waist and rested his chin where his lips previously laid. “You gonna let me make it up to you?”

That sparkle in his eyes; going from desperate to happiness, now to a mixture of lust and excitement. “You don’t have to do that Gyu, it’s okay.”

“Pleeeease? I’ll make you feel so good baby, I promise.”

Your heart beat thumped in your entire body; your neck, your fingertips, your chest, you were suddenly aware how fast it was going. “Okay, but only if you want t-“

He was already pushing you against the nearest wall, still on his knees. He slid that tiny little skirt he loved so much down your legs along with your panties and draped a leg over his shoulder. He tapped on the other one to get you to let him do the same. He was sturdy, a big wide frame for you to comfortably rest your jelly like legs as he settled his tongue right between your juicy folds. He was so good at getting you wet, or maybe you just couldn’t help it.

He was right, you did feel good. Your hands tangled in his fluffy hair, back arched and head leaned back against the wall. You weren’t going anywhere but he had a tight grip over your thighs to keep you still while he got to work. Flat tongue exploring every inch of your dripping pussy. He made rough circles over your clit, stopping to suck on it every now and again. He was enjoying himself; grunting, moaning, whimpering at the taste of you flooding his tastebuds. Nothing was sweeter than you, nothing made his body feel like it was on fire like you did.

Toes curled and thighs shaking, you were close to what was to obviously come. “G-Gyu, gonna cum.”

There he was again, looking up at you with those same eyes that crumbled you into a bunch of tiny pieces. He grabbed higher on your thighs, bringing your pussy closer to him, sticking his tongue as deep as it could go. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass, your hands tugging on his hair slightly. His nose pressed against your clit and that along with everything else pushed you over the edge.

He loved being the one to get you like this. To be the only one tasting you in your most vulnerable form. He was twitching in the pants he wore; you were absolutely lethal. When you came down from your high, he gently let your legs down and stood up; chin and lips glistening. He smiled at you when you stood on your still wobbly legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down for a sloppy kiss. His hands rested on your ass until he lifted you so that your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you to the bed, still kissing you and placed you on your stomach. You were left in nothing but your top, your bottom half on full display. You looked over your shoulder and watched as he removed everything until he was left in nothing but his skin. He was behind you now, propping you up on your knees so that his fat head could rub against your entrance. He grabbed your hips and slid in; hissing as he reached the hilt. Breathing heavily, he slowly built up a momentum, rocking his hips faster and faster.

“Mmm Gyu, feels so good…”

“Hmm? Feels good baby? Want more?”

He didn’t have to see you nod, your hips bucked back to meet his thrusts; just a way to tell him you needed more. Your walls sucked him in, inviting him to have no boundaries and to fuck you to his heart’s desire.

“Love you so much, don’t wanna fight no more.” His thrusts were quick now, fat dick stretching you out so deliciously.

No words could accurately describe how amazing it felt to be under him. So big and so heavy in all the right amounts. To have your face in the mattress while he grabbed at you as if you would slip away. He leaned forward, hands sliding under your shirt to fondle your breasts. His hands were soft, big but rough and mean all at the same time.

“Love you Gyu…love youuuu” you were moaning and whimpering; it all felt too good and your body felt tingly.

Your voice so pretty too, letting him hear how good he made you feel. He was no match for you, he couldn’t go on much longer before he wanted to fill you up just so he could hear you some more. He was addicted.

“Love you baby, love this warm pussy too, love everything. Wanna give you more. Wanna give you it all.” He wrapped his arms around you, trapping yours at your chest while he rut into you like a dog in heat.

Absolutely perfect, all of it. You loved how even though he could easily crush you, he made sure to use his size to protect your smaller body. He was getting so deep at the angle, a huge creamy mess forming at the base of his dick. His knees were between yours to keep you nice and spread for him.

“P-please Gyu…want it” your voice slightly higher pitched than it was earlier or better described as: the way your voice would change when you couldn’t take it anymore and needed to cum.

He sped up, thrusts so deep and fast, tip bullying your cervix. He squeezed you a bit tighter, prepping you and him for the massive load he was going to release. He was panting in your ear, breath warm and tickly. This only caused your pussy to flutter, walls clenching down on him. It was turning his pants into moans; gosh he was so close but so were you. You kissed at his bicep closest to you and it drove him crazy; you drove him crazy.

“Fuck, baby can’t hold it…gonna fill you up.”

And fill you up he did. A few more thrusts and his warm cum flooded your walls, slipping out and dripping down your thighs. You were both still moaning as you came down from your highs. He freed you from his trap and laid down next to you. Neither of you had the energy to move, panting heavily as the effects wore off. He built up the strength to pull you close to him because he couldn’t deal with you being so far.

“I’m sorry Gyu, I didn’t mean to yell at you and accuse you of all those things.”

He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead, “It’s okay baby I know, we don’t have to talk about that. Just lay here with me okay?”

Soon the silence engulfed you both and slipped you into a peaceful slumber.

Would y’all forgive him? 👀

[itneverendshere]

omg omg i’m completely inlove with bartender reader and rafe!! what if the reader saves up her money to get rafe something special as a just because gift, something to show that shes grateful for him or maybe handmade some gift for him

it hits different 'cause it's you - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 2.5k

thank you so much for loving them and for you request 🫂

Between the country club, side gigs, and saving every extra penny, you’d finally done it. You had something for Rafe.

You turned the little bracelet over in your hands, the silver chain glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. It felt kind of ridiculous at first—getting him a gift. Rafe could buy whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But that wasn’t the point. This was your first birthday together, and you wanted to give him something that came from you.

Something that showed him you were grateful for everything he’d done. Because even though you’d heard all the stories about how terrible he could be—and you’d seen flashes of it sometimes—he’d always been different with you. Softer, quieter, like everything around him softened when it was just the two of you. You didn’t need the flashy gifts or the five-star dinners, though he insisted on both.

You needed him. The Rafe you knew when it was just the two of you sitting in his truck by the beach, laughing over nothing.

A handmade bracelet, not flashy but personal. You’d saved up for the silver chain, a simple one but still nice. But the charms? Those were the important part. Tiny reminders of things you’d shared: a little compass for those late-night drives home where you’d just get lost on purpose, a wave for the time he dragged you out surfing (even though you had no idea what you were doing), and a tiny heart because, well, obvious reasons. 

You didn’t care if he thought it was dumb.

You’d spent weeks working on it between shifts, sneaking away to the little craft store on the mainland to find the perfect pieces. It wasn’t expensive, but it had you in it—your time, your memories, your effort. And you hoped that was enough.

You’d been nervous all day, counting down the minutes until you could finally give it to him. Rafe had picked you up after work, his grin lighting up the parking lot, and now the two of you were sitting on the hood of his truck, the ocean breeze cool against your skin. His birthday dinner had been perfect, of course—he'd made sure of that.

He’d insisted on this little restaurant by the beach, his favorite, and the sunset view had been unreal, like something out of a movie. But you’d been quiet.

He nudged you with his shoulder. “What’s up? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

You fumbled with the zipper of your purse, pulling out the small, wrapped box. “I… I got you something.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “For me?”

“No, for the other guy I’m sitting on a truck with,” you teased, nerves bubbling up. “Yeah, for you.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

Rafe carefully unwrapped the box, pulling out the bracelet. He held it up, the charms catching the light. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and your heart sank, wondering if he thought it was cheap or lame compared to everything he was used to.

But then he looked at you, his blue eyes soft and serious in a way that made your chest tighten. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, twisting your hands in your lap. “It’s nothing crazy. Just, uh, little things that remind me of us.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just turned the bracelet over in his fingers, tracing the charms. Then, without a word, he slipped it onto his wrist, the silver chain looking a little out of place next to his expensive watch. 

“You can wear as a keychain if you want— or, I dunno, maybe keep it somewhere. You don’t have to wear it,” you added quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush before you could stop them.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn’t going to wear it, not with all his designer clothes and luxury watches.

But Rafe didn’t even flinch. He glanced down at his wrist, then back at you, “I want to wear it.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to just because I gave it to you.”

“Course I do.”

Your cheeks felt warm, and you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, not sure what to say next.

Rafe just grinned, like he could read your mind or something.

“What?” he asked, nudging you again with his shoulder. “You think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I mean…You wear designer everything. This is… it’s kinda cheap compared to that.”

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “Cheap doesn’t mean it’s not special. You made it, and that’s what I care about.” He paused, then added softly, “It’s from you. That’s what matters.”

Your heart did this little flip in your chest, and you had to bite back the stupid smile spreading across your face. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. This is us.” He held up his wrist, the bracelet catching the fading light from the sunset. “Every charm means something, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, suddenly feeling shy. “I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I couldn’t give you something better.”

He turned fully toward you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“Better? Baby, no. This is perfect. No one’s ever given me something like this before.” He kissed your forehead, and you felt yourself melt a little bit. “I don’t need ‘better’ or more expensive shit. I’ve got enough of that. I need this.”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone like Rafe—who could literally have anything—wanted something as simple as a handmade bracelet. But he did. And it made your heart ache in the best way.

“I’m glad you like it,” you whispered, resting your hand on his chest.

“I don’t just like it. I love it,” he said, his voice soft. Then, as if he could feel how much this moment meant to you, he added, “And I love you.”

That did it. 

Your stomach fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile, that big, stupid, giddy smile you only got when you were with him. “I love you too,” you whispered, like you were saying it for the first time all over again.

Rafe kissed you, slow and sweet, and it felt like time had stopped for a moment—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean in the background.

When he pulled back, he glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist again and smiled. “I’m never takin’ this off, you know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, let’s not get crazy.”

But he just smirked and kissed the top of your head. “No, I mean it. This? It’s a part of us now.”

“Not even when you shower?”

You could feel his shit-eating grin against your temple, “You thinkin’ about me showering?”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned as you tried to keep a straight face. "Shut up," you muttered.

“That’s not what you were sayin’—”

“Okayyyy,” You interrupted pushing his chest away, “We get it.”

You turned your face away, hiding your grin as he laughed, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. Being with Rafe was like that—playful and intense all at once, always keeping you on your toes but making you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to sound exasperated, though the smile on your face gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you tighter. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, the waves crashing softly in the background, the air cool but not cold. Everything felt easy in moments like this. Just you and him.

“I’m serious though,” Rafe said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “No one’s ever done anythin’ like this for me before. You don’t even know how much it means.”

His fingers absentmindedly traced the bracelet again, like he still couldn’t believe it was his.

Your heart swelled a little, knowing that something as simple as a handmade gift could mean so much to someone like him. Rafe had everything—money, cars, houses. But maybe, in some weird way, he needed something that couldn’t be bought. Something that came from you.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “I just… I wanted you to know that I see you, you know? Not just all the surface stuff.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a squeeze. “You do. You really do.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. And in that moment, it hit you how much he’d become a part of your life, how much he’d broken down those walls you didn’t even know you’d put up.

“I’m not taking it off,” he repeated, more serious this time, like he needed you to believe it.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay, Rafe. Whatever you say.”

The bracelet, the moment, this night—it was more than just a gift.

“You’re still givin’ me birthday sex, right?”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, “Seriously? I pour my heart out, and this is where you go?”

He grinned that mischievous, cocky grin of his—the one that made your stomach flip even when you pretended to be annoyed.

“What? I’m just saying, it is my birthday, after all.” His voice dropped, teasing, playful, the way it always got when he was trying to push your buttons.

You shoved his shoulder, pretending to be all serious, but he just caught your wrist, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours, “But you love me anyway.”

You smiled, your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” he raised an eyebrow, looking all mock offended, but there was that softness in his eyes again—the one he only ever let you see.

You kissed him before he could say anything else, slow and sweet, letting the teasing fall away for just a second.

And when you pulled back, you whispered, “Of course I love you. Birthday sex or not.”

Rafe chuckled, his hands slipping down to your ass, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You tried to glare, but the way his thumb was tracing circles on your lower back made it hard to keep up the act. “I don’t have to admit anything.” You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “But maybe... if you’re lucky..”

Rafe’s breath hitched just a little, and it sent a thrill down your spine. You loved this—having him wrapped around your finger. He always lost it when you played the game right back.

"Now who's teasing’?" he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, leaving little kisses that made it hard to keep your thoughts straight.

"You started it," you whispered back, your fingers finding the edge of his collar, tugging him closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your legs ended up draped over his, and you could feel his hands on your thighs, warm and familiar, as you settled deeper into his lap. His lips traced your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of this, and your head tilted back instinctively, giving him more room.

God, he knew exactly how to make you melt without even trying.

Rafe’s hands slid down to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He always knew how to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re gonna drive me insane,” he muttered, his lips brushing yours but not quite kissing you yet. 

You leaned into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest as he finally kissed you. His hand came up to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in that gentle way that made you flutter. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss, like he was savoring every second he had you this close. You kissed him back just as slowly, letting yourself get lost in it. 

The kiss was deliberate, slow, like he wanted to memorize the way your lips moved against his, the taste of you, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, deepening the kiss as his other hand traced gentle circles along your thigh.

“Y’know I’m crazy about you, right?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, your heart doing that annoying thing again. “Yeah. Happy birthday, baby.”

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still tracing lazy circles on your leg.

Then, in the same casual tone he used when asking about what to eat for dinner, he said, “You know, you should make the same bracelets for our kids when we have them.”

Your brain screeched to a stop.

Wait, what?

You blinked up at him, your heart skipping a beat for a completely different reason now. “I’m sorry, what?”

He grinned like he didn’t just casually drop the most insane statement ever. “I’m serious. Like, one day when we have kids—you should make them little bracelets like this. It'll be a thing.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around what he just said. “Rafe, we’ve been together, what… less than a year? And you’re already talking about kids?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed by the shock on your face. “Yeah, why not? I can see it, y’know? You, me, little mini-us running around—driving us crazy. It’d be fun.”

You blinked again, your mind still catching up.

Kids? Your kids? Together? You tried to picture it for a second—little versions of Rafe, with his mischievous ways and messy hair, running around. 

“Wait, hold up—you want kids with me?”

 “Yeah.”

“Plural?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah. A few. Maybe more.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “A few? Oh my God, you’re insane.”

He smirked, looking way too pleased with himself.

“What, you can’t picture it? I bet they’d have your eyes. Or my attitude. Definitely my attitude.”

“Great, that’s exactly what the world needs.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer, “Not, like, tomorrow. But one day. You’d be a great mom, don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Okay, maybe once. Can we just get through your birthday first?”

“Fine, fine. But just so you know, when the time comes, you’re making all of them little bracelets.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’ll consider it... if they don’t take after you too much.”

“Oh, they will. And you’re gonna love every second of it.”

[rose-maidenn]

🌬PAC : Your most appealing sensual qualities :-

Pile 1 :

Hii loves how are you doing?

For you I get that you know exactly how to make a person wait for something be it , your attention, your favours or your time , I get the word void for you , staying with you puts people in a state or rest or in a new world it's like you surround them with maya , it's so beautiful, be it is case of friendships or relationships you show people how worthy you are , ik nowadays how people admire nonchalance but most have got it all wrong , your way is beautiful you know how to read the room and gives them the exact amount of attention .

The way you brush your hairs in the middle of the conversation from your face is very attractive , people see your hair for hair inspo btw it's very voluminous and shiny , you remind me of the old celtic women with wavy hair, such beauty .

Moreover people really like when you wear clothes showing your waist and the way you move is very attractive it's hypnotic even , I won't be shocked if you said you learn dance because girl you're attracting the attention damn .

You're one of those people who attract attention without saying much and that is so so rare and you embody rare how stunning are youuu!!!!!!

Pile 2 :

Heyyy ,how's everything going ?

Your eyes damn those eyes , you know that they kill and you use them well angel . Your hands are very observed by other people the movement of your hands , your nails , I will not be shocked if you said you learnt mudras or reiki . I think you can easily read people's energy just by touching them. Wanna know something honey you need to be really careful about the things you say because you easily manifest . I wish all the good comes to you.

Your diction and hold on various languages and accent is very admired , the way you pronounce and the certain raspy tone to your voice is very sensual to most people it's like you're luring them in . Your anger Is so admired by many people because there's a way you fight for the causes the passion is seen in your actions and that is so attractive .

People are in awe of your thinghs I'm not even kidding , they imagine sleeping on them , they would like to see you in a sexy garter belt like damn , your skin is super shiny as well , random but I remembered coco oil by victoria's secret , maybe you should try that , your soft skin is adored by many people .

You have a luminous glow to yourself like the moon , I can't describe well but it's beautiful you're like a old Hollywood glamour queen , damn your auraaaaaa!!!!!!

Thank you so much for reading🫶✨️ , dm me if you wanna book with me 🎀 kiss kiss ♥️

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 17

Summary: Most of Malleus’s day is spent zoning out while bathing in sunlight. It’s always fun to see his little lizard brain occasionally spark up an idea.

(I used to have pet lizards. Loved the way their eyes convey the absolute emptiness going on in their brain.)

Malleus hasn’t blinked for the past hour. He just sits there, on the window sill, face turned towards the sunlight as he stared into the lush yard outside. From a certain angle, he almost looks forlorn, like a doll abandoned by the side of the road.

If Sebek was here, he’d certainly be fretting around Malleus, trying to snap him out whatever trance he was caught up in. And Silver would whisper his concerns into your ear, hoping you’d give him ideas as to what’s wrong with Malleus despite being his owner for longer. And Lilia, cute bat Lilia, he’d be trying to goad Malleus into playing a flying game with him just to get him moving.

You walked over, leaned against the window sill, and poked Malleus on the forehead. He didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes remain unblinking. You pushed your finger against his head and watched as he practically became a wobble doll. You let go and Malleus still body rocked back and forth until he was stable again.

Malleus was still staring off into the distance.

You snorted. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh? Empty-headed little critter.”

Bathing in sunlight always does this to him, like the warmth of sun soothed all the chaos in his head into nothingness.

There’s nothing wrong with him, Malleus was just zoning out for the moment. He’ll be back online in a moment. It’s always entertaining to hear the way Silver describes him, like this little pet was some always caught up in some grand and mysterious scheme. A magical genius so smart that his thoughts escape everyone’s comprehension.

That’s not quite it thought. Malleus is Malleus, and he’s more the kind of pet to get stuck on one particular thought or subject for weeks on end. All pets have different phases and routines, and long-living fae pets such as Malleus were no exception. He’s just slower to get to the next phase.

You opened the window. The wind gently blew right past the both of you, guiding the falling leaves and gently caressing your curtains. You took a deep breath in, and sighed it out.

Suddenly, Malleus’s eyes snapped wide open, back stiff and wings jittery. Energetic, excited about something.

“Oh?” You lowered your head. “Did you get an idea?” Are the gears finally turning again in his brain.

You scratched at his soft belly scales and laughed when he practically launched himself out of your hand. He was practically a rocket as he shot out the window, barely more than a blur as he flew in a pattern only he knew.

This month’s obsession seems to be dizzying flight patterns. All because Malleus witnessed Lilia’s flying right after he finished eating some of Crowley’s fermented peaches.

After a round of unsteady figure eights, Malleus finished with a belly flop on the grass, as Lilia did before. He got up, cleaned himself off, and fly once more. He’s nothing if not determined, that’s for sure. Still, it’s hilarious that he spent the entire day zoning out at your house.

Sure, you were a little concerned when he first did it, but you figured it out soon enough. You did as you usually do and let the pets do their own thing.

Maybe that’s why Malleus likes to come over here often. You’ve never been much of a person that fusses. Unless they’re putting themselves in active danger, you’re not going to bother them every single second of their life.

Well, whatever the reason may be, it’s still made clear that your house is a place to zone out in. You know you do that often. And, you will admit, you love the way Malleus's eyes go all empty like that.

[cosmonauter]

ahh, i hope you like it @liv-does-stuff !!

bestfriend james who has no boundaries with you!!

james potter thinks you are the best friend he's ever had. normally people tell him that he's too clingy, and they don't like him hanging around them all the time. and it's not a problem for him, but he just wants someone to let him hug and touch without being awkward about it.

so when you two met, he felt like the luckiest person on earth because you don't think it's weird when he hugs you from behind and kisses the top of your head.

you don't judge him for demanding cuddles and sleepovers at least two times a week. you even encourage him to be touchier!

his favourite thing to do with you is bathing together. since he's a headboy, he has unlimited access to the prefect's bathroom, which means that the two of you bathe together as often as possible.

he's especially excited to meet you today because he was informed about a new couple in school, and he really wants to gossip about it with you!

so while he is cleaning his bed of sirius' socks and peter's sweets, because you're sleeping over today, sirius decides to ask him a question, "are you meeting up with them again? don't you think it's a little weird that you guys bath at the same time in the same room, even though you're 'just friends'?"

"why would it be weird? they wash my back and i condition their hair for them. it's logical and they don't mind it aswell. it's actually really nice, and besides, don't act as if remus and you don't shower together!"

remus sighs, "james, sirius and i are in a relationship with eachother. aside from that, i totally agree with pads, it is weird that you take baths together. what's even weirder is you touching while being in said bath!"

"you guys just don't have the connection that my dove and i have. it's okay though, don't be sad about it! maybe one day you'll reach the same trust we have in each other.", james throws a towel over one shoulder and picks out a shirt for you to wear, and matching pants, so everyone you come across in the halls knows about your superior friendship (and that you're his, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even under torture).

"i'm going to the bath, padfoot don't eat anything on my bed, my dove complained about the crumbs last time, and i promised them to change that! they're sleeping with me today. bye bye!"

he closes the door before any of them can say anything and runs to the bathroom as fast as he can.

-

as soon as he arrives in the prefect bathroom, he already sees you taking off your clothes.

while you are struggling with unzipping your pants, he comes up behind you and grabs your waist, pulling you into an embrace. your naked back against his broad chest sends electric shocks down his body and he shivers against you and presses your body closer to his.

"jamie, can you help me with my zipper? it isn't moving any further and i can't get out of my pants like that."

james would do anything for you, if you never stopped looking at him with those puppy-eyes, "of course, sweetheart. stay still."

he moves his hand away for a moment to turn your body facing his. while his one hand moves towards your zipper, the other one steadying your body by holding your hip, he grins at you and you smile back up at him.

he tugs a few times, but the pants don't budge. you notice his forehead getting sweatier, so you suggest to "take off your shirt jamie, it's to hot in here for you to be wearing it!" while tugging it up his back a little.

he pulls it off and throws it to the side, giving you a grin, "if you wanted me naked, darling, you just had to ask."

you scrunch your brows together, "if i wanted you naked, you would already be.". he snorts, and keeps tugging at your jeans.

suddenly an idea blossoms in his head. what if your zipper got stuck on something from the inside of your pants. so, of course, he sticks his hand down your pants to find a little string, connected to your underwear, being held hostage by said zipper.

"darling, you just have to pull your trousers down together with your panties. see, just like that..", he slowly eases your trousers over your butt, enjoying the feeling of your body under his hands.

you shiver against him and moan out," thank you, jamie. i should've thought about that." you blush and hide your head in his chest.

"don't worry about it, my love. i'm happy to help you as much as you need.", he smiles down at you, while you start tugging down his zipper to take of his trousers.

as soon as they fall to the floor, james picks you up by your waist and throws you into the water.

" james, you idiot!!", you scream at him while trying to splash him with the water. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry angel! i'll jump in okay? will that make you happy?"

-

"they are definitely fucking, i'm telling you!"

"sirius, calm down! what if they hear you, huh?"

"oh come on remus, they wear matching pajamas and use silencing charms every single time they have a 'sleepover', they won't hear a thing, trust me!"

"you're right, love, but still."

"wormy, what do you think?"

"i think they're both idiots, who really don't get why it's so weird."

please tell me if i need to change something, or if you have some tips on getting better. i hope you enjoyed it :))

[checkeredflagggs]

Aftermath of a Storm

Pairing: oscar piastri x sargeant!Storm chaser!fem!reader

summary: people are shocked to learn about alice and oscar

a/n: tbh i really meant for the first part to have more of the other drivers learning about Barbie and Alice but obviously that didn’t happen 😂

a/n 2: timelines? What timelines? Idk know them

Part 1

Twitter

Private Messages - Logan, Oscar, Alice

Private Messages - The Grid, Fun

Private Messages - Logan, Oscar, Alice

mclaren

liked by drbarbie, teammate1, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 4,822,445 others

tagged: drbarbie, oscarpiastri

mclaren: Check the weather this weekend! Because there must be a storm moving in —Oscar Piastri is taking Dr. Alice “Barbie” Sargeant, Williams Racing’s Logan Sargeant’s twin sister and notable storm chaser, on a hot lap here in Mexico!

view all comments

user1: oh my god this is everything I never knew I needed

user2: oh yeah hey mclaren don’t forget to mention THAT THEY ARE DATING

oscarpiasti: it’s gonna be a good time!

logansargeant: it’s been nice knowing you

oscarpiasti: I’m sure it’ll be fine

logansargeant: you sure about that? you SURE about that?

logansargeant: are we talking about the same girl?

user4: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

used5: LET US IN. LET US IN!! YOURE AMERICAN — SPILL THE TEA

landonorris: Oscar! You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!!!! 😡😡😡

oscarpiastri: I’m sure I mentioned it.

landonorris: I’m sure YOU HAVENT!?!

oscarpiastri: of course I have. are you sure you were listening?

landonorris: of course I was LISTENING! You just haven’t said A WORD!? Since when have you had a girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: we’ve been together for nearly 7 years

landonorris: 7 years?!?

oscarpiastri: yes.

landonorris: WHAT?!??!

user6: WHAT?

user7: uhh raise your hand if you had Oscar Piastri has a secret girlfriend, Logan Sargeant has a twin sister, or the two would be the same person on your bingo card this year

user8: ok but if anyone on the grid had a secret girlfriend of course it’s gonna be Oscar?

user7: you got me there

user9: 7 years?!? How do you hide a girlfriend for 7 years? Especially one as cool as drbarbie?

user10: user9 asking the real questions

user11: right?? How did some guy who drives in silly circles score such a cool badass girlfriend?

drbarbie: I ran over him with my bike one day

user11: WHAT?!?

drbarbie: ummmm what is this??? oscarpiastri WHAT DID YOU DO???

logansargeant: apparently signed you up to tackle a hot lap

drbarbie: NO

drbarbie: ABSOLUTELY NOT

drbabrie: SPEED AND I DO! NOT! MIX!!

drbarbie: oscarpiastri ANSWER YOUR PHONE

drbarbie: nicolepiastri where is your son? I’d like to have some words with him

nicolepiastri: you and me both sweetie

user12: you chase tornadoes but can’t do a hot lap?

drbarbie: THERE IS A MAJOR DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO!

user13: and you prefer the storms?

drbarbie: YES!!

f1gossippage

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, teammate1, and 3,997,455 others

f1gossippage: a hot lap for the records! Oscar Piastri drove girlfriend Barbie Sargeant around the track twice today! Definitely seems like she’s not a fan

view all comments

user14: not a fan? I’d say 😂 I didn’t know anyone could scream that high tbh

user15: those were genuinely screams of terror…save my girl 😭

user16: Barbie Sargeant? Nah fam you did not do my girl dirty like that. Put some respect in her damn name. It’s DR. ALICE “BARBIE” SARGEANT

user17: oh thank god someone said it. She did not get 2 phd’s by the time she was 21 to have that be disrespected

user18: no shit really?

user17: yes! She graduated with double phd’s in meteorology and mechanical engineering from Cornell when she was 20!

used18: so fucking cool! And yea! PUT SOME DAMN RESPECT IN HER NAME!

user19: someone with more experience needs to watch this entire clip and then make gif sets of the ENTIRE thing because her face goes on a lot of journeys

user20: most of those journeys end in murder i think

drbarbie: they do. They will

logansargeant: maybe don’t threaten Oscar on a public instagram post?

drbarbie: for once in your life, stay in your lane. Unless you’d like to join him?

logansargeant: …carry on.

user20: logansargeant what was that??

logansargeant: I support women’s Rights and Wrongs

drbarbie: good

oscarpiasti: oh these are good pictures!

drbarbie: you are a dead man walking Piastri

oscarpiastri: would you really hurt me?

drbarbie: yes

oscarpiastri: what about my mother and sisters?

drbarbie: nicolepiastri soooo…you’re gonna be down a son soon. I can offer Logan?

nicolepiastri: oh we’d love to have the two of you visit again soon logansargeant and drbarbie

oscarpiastri: nicolepiastri mum??

user21: not nicolepiastri supporting this 🤣😭

teammate1: 😂😂😂

drbarbie: I sign your checks. Watch yourself

teammate1: girl this is too damn funny

drbarbie: 🙄😑

Private Messages - Oscar, Logan, Alice

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 3,728,388 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

drbarbie: it’s your turn now! 🥰

view all comments

user22: the hearts make this a very ominous message

drbarbie: it’s supposed to be!

user22: oh!

oscarpiastri: babe?

oscarpiastri: what do you mean my turn?

drbarbie: I told you! I’d only ever get in your car when you get in mine!

drbarbie: so convenient that you have a break and dolly is back from the mechanics right now! 🧡🩵🧡

oscarpiastri: ummm…🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user23: ok but is she really gonna take him through a tornado???

user24: that does seem like it’s the plan?

user23: I can’t watch this 🙈

user24: she’s a professional?

drbarbie: more confidence in me please

user24: you right you right

user: SHES A PROFESSIONAL

drbarbie: thank you!

logansargeant: good luck! Have fun!

drbarbie: 😊😊😊

logansargeant:…no.

logansargeant: What did I do?

logansargeant: come on I helped you

logansargeant: I’m on your side!!

teammate3: dolly is ready to roll!!

oscarpiastri: that better be a joke

teammate1:…

teammate2:…

teammate3:…

teammate4:…

teammate5:…

Private Messages - The Grid, Serious

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 4,288,373 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

drbarbie: don’t worry guys! They made it through the “storm” a-ok! (Come on guys, have a little faith. I’d never actually take someone unprepared into an actual tornado. Plus prime tornado season is over for the year!)

view all comments

user25: oh thank god. I was so very nervous

user26: girl you ain’t the only one. Check the video at 14:25. Oscar’s fingers are fucking white with panic 😂😂

oscarpiastri: thank you love for not subjecting me to a tornado

logansargeant: yes thank you my very favorite sister who is definitely the best and best and most wonderful

oscarpiastri: yes! Most wonderful and loving and beautiful girlfriend ever

drbarbie:…laying it on a little bit thick aren’t you?

logansargeant: quite literally whatever I have to do so I never ever ever ever have to get in that truck again!

drbarbie: don’t you dare disrespect dolly!

logansargeant: never!

oscarpiastri: dolly is a queen! We aren’t worthy.

logansargeant: yes! We definitely shouldn’t be in that truck ever again

drbarbie: babies…fine

user26: wow!!!! 🤩 those photos are stunning!

drbarbie: thank you! When I was planning this I knew the conditions were gonna be good for some nice thunderstorms but even I didn’t expect this level!

user26: so you just…followed them around?

drbarbie: yup! It’s something our parents used to do for me when logie and I were young - the driving being a lot more calm then normal is just about the only difference (my passengers complained the entire time 🙄)

user27: oh that’s so cute! (They seem like the type 😂)

landonorris: stunning

drbarbie: thank you!

oscarpiastri: no

landonorris: I didn’t say anything?

oscarpiastri: and yet the answer is no. Go away

georgerussell63: shut down!

landonorris: why am I catching strays on my comment thread???

charles_leclerc: these are magnificent photos! And it looked like a fun trip to get them

drbarbie: thank you! (Oh my god oscarpiastri I’ve been noticed by your father!)

oscarpiastri: that’s cool babe

charles_leclerc: yes! Welcome to the family. We expect you for dinner soon

drbarbie: score!

alicepublic

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,590,455 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

alicepublic: happy anniversary my love. The best 7 years of my life so far — with many more to go 🧡🧡🧡

view all comments

oscarpiastri: I can’t believe that it’s only been 7 years, I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime already — I couldn’t imagine spending it with anyone else.

alicepublic: oh my love…

user28: water is wet. Fork found in the kitchen. I’m sleeping on the highway!

user29: sleepover!!

oscarpiastri: You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me 🩷

mclaren: you won the race last week?

alicepublic: uhhh your point?

oscarpiastri: and? I said what I said!

mclaren: alrighty then! Well said!

charles_leclerc: happy anniversary my son and daughter in law!

alicepublic: not a daughter in law yet but thank you!

oscarpiastri: soon!

alicepublic: WHAT?!? 😳 🫢

logansargeant: 7 years of being a third wheel and they don’t even tag me…EVEN THOUGH I'M VERY BLATANTLY IN THIS PHOTO DUMP

alicepublic: chill out dude

oscarpiastri: thank you for being our favorite third wheel and for taking these wonderful photos

logansargeant: Oscar is my favorite

alicepublic: I’d be mad but same tbh

user30: it’s been years but yay! Dr Barbie’s priv account is finally open

user31: oh my god baby her and baby Oscar are so cute!

user30: I know!! I’ve been getting fomo going through her posts - like what do you mean I haven’t been growing up with them?

user32: yeah alicepublic can we get an explanation for that photo near the beginning of you on a bike and Oscar bleeding?

alicepublic: that was the first day we met! My bike broke (no brakes) and as I was trying to slow down I accidentally ran over Oscar!

oscarpiastri: best accident I’ve ever had!

user32: ok this is the cutest meet-cute! ♥️

landonorris: unfortunately you guys are cute…

alicepublic: what 🥺 🥺 …

oscarpiastri: what do you mean unfortunately?

landonorris: yeah — can’t have anyone cuter than me in the garage so you’re uninvited to mclaren

oscarpiastri: happily you can’t make those decisions (slides $5 to mclaren)

mclaren: don’t worry alicepublic ! Permanent paddock pass for you!

landonorris: WHAT? NO!

landonorris: IM STILL CATCHING STRAYS ON MY COMMENT THREADS

[maybe-boys-do-love]

The On1y One Loves School

Maybe it's a cultural thing, maybe it's the nerd angle, but The On1y One depicts my high school experiences with so much more accuracy (excluding one kidnapping that I think we can all collectively choose to ignore) than any other show I've seen. We got a field day episode, but we haven't attended one sports event. The one party we saw was the group going out to dinner together. Riverdale this is not.

The show really understands the perspectives and emotions of these bright students. In the first episode, there's an extended sequence observing the students while they take an exam. They could've played it to show Sheng Wang making faces or talking to himself as he struggled through it. Instead we pan across the room while the gentle guitar music plays. For these kids, there's comfort in the routines of school, especially for our lead couple who've struggled so much with their home life. We get so many scenes about studying and comparing answers, teasing each other with poetic structures.

But, despite their commonality as top students, they're still incredibly realistic teenagers, and a diverse group of personalities, at that. There are clowns, class president types, popular kids, loners. Even with those differences, episode 9 with its field day demonstrated the comradery that forms amongst a class, which was make-shift and oriented more toward their teachers than comparing themselves to their peers.

The teachers and the students' relationship to them also receives the same attention to detail. In high school, students, in my experience, have dynamics that are closer and more playful with their teachers. The back-and-forth about the Class A shirts and the bet felt true-to-life. As a former teacher, the depictions of the teachers throughout the series have also been spot-on. They have different teaching approaches, different ways of relating and showing care to students, and they don't all see each other that often. If Jenny had simply received a letter from Qi Jia's parents criticizing her (instead of, you know, getting kidnapped at knife-point and then going back to field day like it happens all the time), the list of doubts about her methods would be the same as those that go through teachers' minds all the time.

I sincerely wonder if the writer, either of the novels, or someone involved with the development of the show was formerly a teacher? The show sees the school and the people in it with such detail. The reason we don't need something big (like, say, an armed kidnapping) is because the intense teenage emotions heighten all the everyday moments. Qi Jia's confusion and breakdown about belonging, Jian Tiang's 'very moments' and poetic narration, Sheng Wang's affronted attitude toward his dad: these are teenagers overwhelmed by their hormones and trying their best to make sense of everything. But the show almost always (minus a certain event that I'm done naming) observes them from an affectionate distance, refusing to turn the drama of their minds into a dramatic narrative. Instead, we get a tender view of pencil boxes, forms, studying strategies, phone notifications, or mugs on teacher's desks: the mundane highs and lows in high school infused with secret feelings that made us all feel insane.

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

chapter notes.: Penguin and Shachi being really interested in who Law had a study date with, and mentioning of Laws ex gf, also uncle Rosi mentions <3

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot, Penguin and Shachi appearing as flat mates, Rosinante as the loving uncle, Laws crazy Ex,

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Law wanted to text you. He felt a bit guilty for leaving so abruptly without a proper goodbye. Maybe he could use the chance to apologize for his quick disappearance or, better yet, set up another study session. He had to admit, the last one had been surprisingly productive—way more than he’d expected. Your structured notes made it easier for him to memorize the material, and that wasn’t something that happened often.

Initially, he agreed to study with you because he was running out of time and figured someone who always seemed to be buried in their books could save him some effort. It might’ve sounded opportunistic—and honestly, it was. Sure, he enjoyed your company, but the main reason was to cram effectively. He wasn’t ready to admit, even to himself, that your presence actually helped him unwind, even for just a moment.

Still, he couldn't find the right time to message you. Walking home with Penguin, he didn't want to risk sending a text and having to deal with his teasing. Penguin already joked that their "study date" was more of an actual date, and that was already irritating enough. Even if it was something more, it wasn’t any of his business.

“By the way, those puns were terrible. Seriously, you’ve got to cut them, Peng,” Law muttered as he dropped onto the worn-out couch in their living room. Penguin already popping open a cold beer and handing one over to Law.

Before Penguin could defend himself, Shachi strolled out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, his damp brown hair pushed back, still dripping slightly. He was already dressed in his usual comfortable clothes and hearing the conversation, he wanted to comment on Penguins thesis as well, which he also proof read for him.

"Yeah, Peng. You're supposed to impress your professor with your thesis, not make him cringe."

"Guys, come on, there's a strategy here!" Penguin held up his hands in mock defense, already sensing the incoming wave of criticism. He sat down next to Law and wanted to explain his…creative way of writing.

Both Law and Shachi exchanged suspicious looks but gave Penguin a chance to talk.

“My professor is basically a walking dad joke. I figured slipping in a couple of puns would make it more… relatable, you know?”

Shachi frowned, grabbing a beer before slumping onto the couch next to them. “Dude, it's an academic thesis, not open mic night. Are you sure that's the right call?”

Law was quiet for a second, considering it. Then he shrugged. "If your professor’s into that sort of thing, maybe toss one in... but just one. At the conclusion or something.”

“Are you seriously encouraging this?” Shachi raised his eyebrows, clearly in disbelief, especially coming from Law.

Law took a long sip from his beer, then shrugged again, nonchalant as ever. Maybe it was his exhausted mind talking nonsense, but honestly he didn’t really mind it if there was a reason. It didn’t sound stupid.

"Look, it's not like anyone else is gonna read it, and if the professor enjoys that kind of humor, why not? But, for the love of god, Penguin—just one pun. You’ve got way too many in there. It’s distracting."

Penguin sighed and leaned back against the couch, nodding. Law noticed his shift in demeanor—maybe constantly criticizing his work wasn’t the best idea. After all, Penguin had poured months into that thesis, combing through scientific papers, fitting them into his argument, all while completely neglecting his health and barely taking any breaks. Law knew that both his friends were sharp, even though they liked to goof around a lot. Law couldn't deny that. Penguin was knee-deep in marine biology, while Shachi tackled mechanical engineering. Both degrees demanded a lot from students, and Law had nothing but respect for their dedication.

“Besides the puns, it's a solid thesis,” Law said in his usual flat tone, reaching for the remote to turn on their small TV. It sat precariously on a makeshift shelf they’d salvaged from a dumpster. After a few minor repairs, it became somewhat usable.

They had agreed early on not to let their apartment turn into a disaster zone but also didn’t want to spend much money on new furniture. Despite that, the place had a cozy charm. Each of them had pitched in, decorating with random posters they’d stumbled upon, pictures of the group, or bits and pieces they’d brought from home. It was an unspoken rule to keep it reasonably clean. Sure, there were occasionally pots “soaking” in the sink for far too long, and maybe some breadcrumbs were left scattered on the floor, but overall, the place wasn’t a mess.

Hearing the first bit of positive feedback from Law, Penguin looked over, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

Shachi also noticing that some positive feedback was probably more constructive than just criticism, he was ready to lift the mood, giving Penguin a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Yeah, man! It’s a great read. I’m sure you’ll ace it. Seriously, stop worrying.”

“Honestly, the only thing I found to fix were those puns, anything else was good.” Law added, propping his head in his hand, his attention still on the TV. That was probably the most support you could get out of Law, generally speaking but also considering how drained he was.

Penguin’s face lit up with a wide smile, finally relaxing into the couch. After all the stress, getting approval from Law and Shachi felt good. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot!“

That being said, a comfortable silence settled between the three young men, which Law was very eager to enjoy. To his dismay however, Penguin wasn’t one to just sit there in silence and spilled the beans out of nowhere, now shifting the attention to Law. „By the way, Law was out with a girl.”

Law’s eyes narrowed in an instant. “I take it back. Your thesis is shit.” He shot Penguin a death glare, knowing exactly where this was headed. Shachi perked up immediately, practically sliding over for the incoming gossip.

“Oh ho ho, really?” He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning like a kid with a secret. “Is she pretty?”

“Yeah, man! You should’ve seen her! The way she—”

“I swear, Penguin, I’ll rewrite your entire thesis with nothing but dad jokes and send it straight to your professor.”

“C’mon, Law!” Shachi joined in, unable to resist. “You never go out with anyone. Obviously, we’re curious!”

Law rolled his eyes, trying to shut out the teasing, but the smug grins from both Shachi and Penguin made it clear he wasn’t escaping this conversation easily. He took a long swig from his beer and let out a dramatic sigh. “We were just studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure," Shachi waved off the uninteresting part, leaning forward with a grin. "How’d you meet? At uni? In a lab?”

Law could tell Shachi wasn’t interested in hearing what they were studying. It had been years since Law had anything serious with someone, and even that had fizzled out quickly. His last real relationship, back at the start of university, had been a disaster—his ex was a little... unhinged, to say the least. Aside from that, there were the occasional one-night stands after parties, but nothing anyone would consider serious.

He hesitated, thinking of a way to dodge the subject. But he remembered how often his uncle, had told him to open up more, at least to Penguin and Shachi. They were practically his brothers, after all. Law knew these two could handle his closed-off nature—they’d been doing it for years. If anyone deserved a peek past his walls, it was them. Rosinante was right after all.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “I met her during work.”

Penguin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, while you were delivering food? How did you even end up meeting her like that?”

It was a fair question. Delivering food didn’t exactly lend itself to romantic meet-cutes, and Law wasn’t exactly Mr. Charisma when it came to flirting. It was hard to imagine how this had come about.

“Yep, brought her food,” Law replied, keeping it deliberately vague, the mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He knew that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy them and was clearly enjoying dragging it out.

Penguin, not amused by the teasing, gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Oh, come on! You can’t just leave it at that!”

Law smirked, savoring the moment. He tried to play it cool, but his friends were too excited to let him brush it off. Sure, your company was comforting, you were smart, and yes, you were undeniably pretty—but Law barely knew you. He’d only met you once outside of that study session, and he wasn’t about to jump to conclusions.

“Yeah, last week or so, I brought her order and—,” Law began, leaning back into the couch, his voice steady.

“Oh, the night you had to work overtime and finish that other assignment?” Shachi asked, recalling how exhausted Law had looked when he got home. He’d been worried—those dark circles under Law’s eyes seemed to be getting worse every day. Shachi had been silently wondering if Law was pushing himself too close to a burnout.

Law nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, that night. She brought me some water, and—”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of her!” Penguin interrupted with a grin, earning a sharp look from Law.

“Can I finish without you two chiming in every five seconds?” Law huffed, clearly not used to being in the spotlight like this.

“Sorry, sorry,” Penguin chuckled, leaning back and gesturing for Law to continue. He could barely contain his excitement, but he tried.

“Anyway, she asked why I looked so rushed, and turns out she’s doing meds too—studying for the same exam next week.” Law shrugged like it was no big deal. “She suggested we study together. Saved me some time to work with someone who’s ahead of me.”

Shachi and Penguin exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. She suggested it?” Shachi asked, eyes wide.

“Yup.” Law met their gaze, already anticipating where this was going.

Shachi and Penguin looked at each other again, clearly having an unspoken conversation, before turning back to Law, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement. They both leaned forward like parents about to explain the facts of life to their clueless child.

“Dude, she definitely has a thing for you,” Penguin said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Law just gave a casual shrug, as if it was no big deal. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘nah’? She went out of her way to ask you to study with her,” Shachi insisted, looking at Law like he was the densest person on the planet. “People don’t do that for just anyone.”

Law’s expression remained unreadable. “She just wanted to study. We’re in the same degree. It's not that deep.”

Penguin shook his head, grinning. “Come on, man. She brings you water, chats you up, and then suggests a study date? You don’t see anything in that?”

Law sighed, trying to stay grounded. “She’s just being nice. I’m not reading into it.”

Shachi laughed, slapping his knee. “You’re hopeless. She’s into you, dude. Mark my words.”

Penguin nodded, clearly enjoying the teasing, while Law rolled his eyes again, though this time, a small grin tugged at his lips. His friends were hopeless romantics, always reading into every tiny gesture, convinced it meant someone was interested. Law, on the other hand, was the complete opposite—almost too oblivious to the idea that anyone could like him in a romantic way. He figured people didn't really go for someone as cold and closed-off as he was. Besides, he didn’t have time for a relationship.

“Remember when you were with Yuki?” Penguin chimed in, leaning back. “You didn’t think she liked you at first either.”

Law groaned. “Yeah… I wish she didn’t.”

Both Penguin and Shachi snickered, fully agreeing. Yuki had been... a handful, to say the least. Law’s brief relationship with her was still a running joke among the three of them.

She was also in meds, coming from the North as well and coincidentally from a neighbouring city. It wasn’t too far from Flevance. Back the Law was missing his home town quite a bit, Yuki had helped ease his homesickness with their shared experience from the North. Honestly she was really nice in the beginning, yet it started to spiral once things got serious. Even after Law ended the relationship, she wouldn’t leave him alone. It was a very unhealthy and obsessive relationship.

“She still texting you?” Shachi asked, making himself comfortable again as if bracing for the gossip.

Law shook his head. “Nope. Blocked her. But I’m pretty sure she’s still following me with a second account on Instagram.”

Shachi let out a dramatic sigh.

“Never stick peepee into crazy.”

At that, all three raised their bottles in unison. “Cheers,” they said together, clinking their bottles and taking a long drink. It was a victory toast—a reminder that Law had finally escaped the whirlwind that was his ex and her drama.

Just as Law was about to refocus on the TV, his phone buzzed. A new message. He casually pulled it out and glanced at the screen—it was from you. Unlocking his phone, he read the text from you. It was simple: a thank-you for today and a question about meeting up again for studying. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it caught his attention enough to make him put his beer aside and reply right away.

Of course, his friends noticed immediately. Penguin leaned in, trying to sneak a glance at Law’s phone. "Y/N… is that her?"

Shachi perked up again, sitting upright, all traces of his earlier relaxation gone. "Oh, oh, what’s she saying?"

Law sighed, turning his phone away from Penguin, who was getting a little too close for comfort. “Ever heard of privacy?” he muttered, giving them both a warning look.

Penguin exchanged a mischievous grin with Shachi. "She wants to meet up again, doesn’t she?"

Law groaned, clearly annoyed. "It's just for studying. Now leave me alone."

“You could invite her over—” Shachi started, the teasing tone back in his voice.

“Definitely not.“

The last thing he needed was his friends playing matchmaker or causing any more awkwardness.

“Fine, fine, you're no fun... but how about this?” Shachi persisted, undeterred by the warning glare from Law. His patience was already wearing thin, and he was starting to regret even mentioning you to his friends, but Shachi was never one to be easily intimidated.

Law sighed, letting him continue. There was no stopping Shachi when he was on a roll.

“Do whatever you want, study for your exam, but if she seems cool, maybe bring her to the party in two weeks?” Shachi suggested casually.

“What party? The one your engineering group is throwing?” Law asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that one. By the way, Ikkaku said she’d come too,” Shachi added quickly, his tone more genuine this time. He wasn't trying to push Law into anything, just offering an idea.

Law looked at him for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. It was a simple, friendly offer, not the usual teasing. Shachi knew Law had sworn off dating after Yuki‘s chaotic exit from his life, but he was just trying to help him see that not every connection had to be a disaster.

“Just think about it," Shachi continued. "Study with her, get to know her, and if things feel right, you can bring her along. It's not like you're signing up for a lifelong commitment.”

Penguin chimed in, grinning. “Yeah, man, no one's saying you have to get married. Just have a little fun, meet some people. Who knows?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t dismiss the idea outright. He was always packed with work and studying that socializing, let alone dating, had taken a backseat. The idea of bringing you to a party wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He could keep it casual, see where things went—no pressure, no expectations.

“We’ll see,” Law muttered, and took his beer back and leaned into the couch once more. He was glad the topic was over, and he could finally relax…even though you still ghosted around in his mind, especially after what his friends had told him.

Where you really interested?

…Nah, couldn’t be.

tag list: @mars-mizuko (Comment to be added 🖤)

[vidavalor]

Lesley and Maud

@drconstellation wrote a really interesting meta about our favorite International Express Package Dude that got my brain humming about him and his wife. What can they tell us about Crowley & Aziraphale and the story as a whole?

As the good doctor's above meta points out, Lesley is not the type to question, well... basically anything. While he is a likable character and we root for him to survive and keep living what seems like his nice and peaceful life with his sweet wife, he is also one of the most exasperating characters in Good Omens because what starts out seeming like just his devotion to his job turns out to be a lack of questioning on such a level as to directly be the cause of his death and the enabling of Armageddon.

We initially might admire Lesley's devotion to extracting a sense of self from his job. While we think he's maybe working a bit too hard and while we know what packages he's going to be delivering and so want him to just go back to bed and be safe with his wife, it's hard to hate a man who sees his duty as service to others. The world really does need people who will, for the most part, just deliver packages without asking what's in them or questioning the process because they are upholding the privacy, dignity and freedom of others in doing so. They are helping others to live their lives so these people deserve respect for what they do. On the one hand, Lesley not asking details regarding the packages seems like a way of not seeing it as his business which, well... fair. It's not his business.

It's just that Lesley takes this way, way too far... past a point of reasonable behavior because, at some point, questions need to be asked, if only for preserving safety for yourself or others.

As his story continues, we increasingly are silently begging Lesley to question something, anything about these packages he's been assigned to deliver on this Saturday morning, instead of just doing it. We need him to stop because he's further triggering Armageddon with each delivery he makes, right? We also just care about him and it becomes evident that this man has zero self-preservation skills. He delivers a package to a group of people armed to the teeth. Most chilling, he doesn't seem to think twice about the fact that he doesn't have to deliver a message to Death if he doesn't actually want to.

What's so unnerving about Lesley, though, is that while we can appreciate the idea that he doesn't get involved with whatever is happening when he's delivering these packages, his lack of interest in them is symbolizing the fact that he is just a profoundly incurious person. His story seems to be asking the question of at what point that becomes a moral failing.

On the one hand, a definition of freedom could include someone's right to not care about how others live. The problem with this is that everything and everyone is interconnected. We have a responsibility to one another and to the planet we are all sharing. At what point does inaction become a form of negative action? Lesley is different from other incurious characters in the series. He's not the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters, for instance, whose lack of imagination, curiosity, critical thinking skills and empathy lead them to believe them superior to others and to take action to oppress others. Greta, Glozier and Harmony are villainous because of those things but Lesley is subtly just as interesting a story along a similar theme.

No one, at first pass, would call Lesley a villain and he's definitely sympathetic at times but, mostly, he's pitiable. We feel kind of sorry for him. We definitely feel sorry for his wife, who at least questioned Lesley's lack of questioning and tried to look after him a bit. As Lesley's story continues, though, he becomes increasingly tragic. He just continues to do what he's been ordered to do, a cog in the machine, and even continues that after he dies doing it and comes back to life. Lesley isn't even terribly curious about all of that. He's just like whoa, what a day! to Crowley and Aziraphale-- two powerful, supernatural beings who are so mind-fucked by the events of the last day that they're drinking on a park bench and beginning the first of what we know will be a thousand conversations about What It All Means.

Lesley seems to be something of a nod towards the sheep mindset of religious fundamentalists and cult followers, etc. He doesn't think for himself. The question with his story is at what point does that go from being he's a sad and tragic character we feel a bit sorry for to he's that but he's actually also an antagonistic character because his actions-- or inactions, really-- are doing harm?

As Lesley approached Pollution with their package, God's narration gave us backstory on Lesley and Maud's relationship to the polluted river which Pollution was admiring. God tells us that the river never used to be polluted like this and that, back when it wasn't, Lesley and Maud would come to this park and walk and picnic and spoon and fork along the river. God's narration specifically says Lesley and Maud stopped coming to the river when it was polluted and, since the river is still polluted, is pointing out the fact that these two that had an emotional attachment to the river as part of the history of their love for one another have done nothing to change the state of their environment and are letting it worsen.

Lesley then doesn't counter Pollution's assessment of the environmental devastation as "beautiful," even when it's evident that Lesley disagrees with that statement. This is one of Lesley's only personal opinions that we are allowed to glimpse but, in seeing it, we actually can think a bit worse of him. How much of his time and effort would it take to do join others in doing something about the river? Not just even any river, but the one alongside which he courted the wife he loves?

He doesn't question enough, though, to see that he can. He's not curious enough about anything. He only blindly follows what he's been told to think and believe and do.

In this way, while Lesley is a deliverer, he's actually a parallel to-- but the exact opposite of-- our professional deliverer (professional midwife), Crowley.

Crowley's signature trait is his asking of questions. He does not blindly follow the directions of others the way that Lesley does. In the Job minisode that declares Crowley a deliverer, we know that his outfit is inspired by that of one of the Bible's most famous deliverers, Moses, in Cecil B. Demille's The Ten Commandments, as in the scene when Moses turns his staff into a serpent. Crowley's parallel of Jesus is the other big "deliverer from sin" in the Bible. In the "professional midwife" scene, Crowley literally delivers Sitis from evil by stopping her from cursing God.

Crowley's role in the series is around delivering people anew from their pain. He's a cobbler-- he repairs and re-pairs people. He plays Cupid with Maggie and Nina to help both of them live more fulfilling lives. He pairs Mr. Brown up with Mutt, knowing that Mr. Brown needs some kindness and human magic in his life. At other times, he's literally delivering something or someone-- the antichrist baby in the picnic basket. Black market alcohol to The Windmill.

In addition to this, he's a deliverer in the rescuer sense. He comes to people's emotional rescue and, with Aziraphale, that and sometimes his literal rescue.

So, while Crowley is a more expansive definition of a deliverer, Lesley is paralleling him in a much more basic sort of way-- he delivers packages-- and contrasting Crowley as he parallels him, in that Lesley doesn't ask questions.

Let's bring in some word stuff and look at Lesley's name and that of his wife's for a moment...

Lesley's name is, structurally, the same as Crowley's and is also a gender-neutral name, which pairs well with Crowley. Additionally, the first part of his name-- les-- is both French for a plural sense of the & them... The Them... and also derogatory/occasionally reclaimed throughout history slang for a lesbian. So, yes, Crowley-esque already but the actual definition of Lesley is even more so.

Lesley is thought to come from the Gaelic leas celyn, which means holly garden. A garden for the Serpent of Eden who is a gardener, yes, but the holly is even more important. Holly is a red berry-- a Crowley-colored fruit-- that is synonymous with Christmas, the holiday around the birth of Crowley's other contrasting parallel, Jesus. Additionally, holly shares etymological roots with Hell... so, there's both Heaven and Hell in this.

Then, there's Lesley's wife, Maud. Maud is a name in its own right as well as being a nickname of the name from which it is derived, which is Mathilde. Mathilde means mighty in battle.

Let's talk about why that's perfect for a character who predominantly parallels Aziraphale, as there is perhaps not a word that describes Aziraphale better than the mighty might.

On the one hand, when we talk about might, we talk about strength. We use it in terms of describing raw power-- "the might of NATO's collective armed forces", say, or "she pulled open the door using all her might."

On the other hand, as the other tense of the word may, it's a polite word about possibility and permission. This word that means strong and force not to be reckoned with is also a word of consent.

You'd be hard-pressed to find a word more Aziraphale than that.

It would appear that Crowley agrees because several scenes suggest that they are using might as descriptive for Aziraphale in their wordplay. One would imagine Crowley would find it hard to resist not just because of the perfectly Aziraphaleness of the word but also for the sake of blasphemy because what do people call God?

The Almighty. 😉

Additionally, might has a homophone of mite, another insect for the bees/flies/ants/murder hornets figurative language fiesta. The dust mite does seem good for antiquarian bookseller Aziraphale. The word mite is also in the action of the righteous angel that also means to strike down with love and infatuation-- to smite.

Gabriel smiting the dust mites 🤭

But let's factor in the 'battle' part of this meaning as well. There are two ways to read "mighty in battle" and they are both correct when applied to Aziraphale.

One is that Aziraphale is "mighty in battle" in the sense that he has to do a lot of battling. A battle is not just a clash in a war where war is large-scale military conflict but an internal battle. It's battling your own inner demons. Aziraphale is "mighty in battle" in the sense that he has has to fight through a lot but he is also "mighty in battle" in the other way to take the phrase-- he is mighty (strong) in battle. He's full of inner strength that helps him to get through those battles. This is also perfectly Aziraphale because mental health struggles are not weakness and Aziraphale is a character who exemplifies that very well. He has times when he doesn't feel very strong but he is overall a strong person, as are so many who struggle. He's mighty in battle.

Additionally, there's that if you break down Maud a bit, you get mau, which is a form of cat. Her name is a kind of cat and she calls Lesley "tiger."

As @jotun-philosopher has been looking at, Crowley and Aziraphale have a thing about lions. Crowley's desk chair in S1 and Aziraphale's signet ring are lions. It's probably tied to the two of them watching Adam kill the lion from the wall in Eden. While Maud and Lesley are using tigers, Crowley and Aziraphale are using the parallel lions, and both are types of big cats.

From a language perspective, cats are fun animal parallels because they're gender-neutral. While cats have a history of feminine-associations-- see: common, cat-related euphemisms for a vagina, for starters-- jazz-era slang used cat for masculine-presenting beings just as much. A cat in that context was a man who was cool-- a real hep cat.

When Shadwell asks Crowley in 1967 if he is "a witch or warlock or someone who calls his cat funny names", Crowley responded by saying: "Not a witch. No pets." One of the end results there is that Crowley said he didn't have any pets (which is kind of a lie, as he has The Plants lol) but he never says that he doesn't have a cat, does he? He doesn't have a cat in the pet sense but he has one in the person sense and they absolutely call each other "funny names"-- in the punny, pet name sense, not in a witchy sense.

So, anyway, lots of paralleling big cats. Lions and tigers (and bears somewhere, I'm sure, oh my!).

Ok, so, Lesley and Maud are very Crowley and Aziraphale and what can the brief glimpse of their relationship maybe tell us about Crowley and Aziraphale's?

There's a lot here in the scene with Maud. Have a look at the colors in it to start. Their bedroom is white (Aziraphale) and shades of a silvery, light grey (Crowley). Aziraphale's sweater that he wears in the bookshop is basically the same color as Maud and Lesley's sheets.

It's the burst of brighter color here, though, that really stands out and that is Maud's night clothes.

That is an orangey-pink color-- it's a coral pink or a salmon pink. It's a pink of the sea. Over here, I went on about the use of shades of pink-- the color of love, romance and health-- in the series, as well as fish-and-the-sea as Crowley and Aziraphale's figurative language for sex. Maud and Lesley's bedroom is a mix of Crowley and Aziraphale colors, offset by a color symbolic of a healthy romantic life. In this way, they don't differ from Crowley and Aziraphale, but their circumstances in this same scene show where they do.

The scene that introduces these two to parallel Crowley and Aziraphale is centered around Lesley and Maud in their version of the one room in the bookshop we still haven't yet been in but which has been alluded to in other ways-- their bedroom. The scene is centered around Maud waking up in bed while Lesley is leaving to go make his deliveries. Just by knowing Crowley and Aziraphale, we can see where they would differ from Lesley and Maud in a parallel situation to this scene.

The first difference is that this is an unusual occurrence for Maud and Lesley. Maud is used to having her partner in bed with her on Saturday mornings. She is surprised that he is up and going to work. She will miss him and wishes he doesn't have to go but she also isn't too concerned about him because, in their world, she does not have to be.

During this scene, the audience is actually a bit more worried about Lesley than Maud (or Lesley) are because we already have enough context to be able to assume that we're meeting Lesley because he's the guy who is going to go deliver the stuff to summon The Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse. We're all hey, nice guy, maybe you should stay in bed with your wife. Just call in sick, man. What's coming up for you will absolutely not be worth it! It makes sense, though, that Lesley and Maud don't feel that same level of threat because, while there is some risk to delivering packages, most days Lesley is just dropping off people's new stuff from the internet. This man delivers blenders and socks and books and stuff. Maud is sure he'll be fine and home by dinner.

Now, compare that to Crowley and Aziraphale...

Crowley and Aziraphale would love to live like Lesley and Maud. To get married and share a little place somewhere together and not park The Bentley streets away and to still be snuggling in bed when the sun comes up in the morning without worrying that they're going to get caught and be killed. In their world, it's not a rare thing for Crowley to be slipping out of bed before sunrise as that's the norm.

There is a lot to suggest that "the rules" of their relationship to which Aziraphale is referring in Lockdown are basically that it's too dangerous for Crowley to stay the night and that he leaves the bookshop before the sun comes up to keep them from being caught. In other posts, some of us have also talked about the idea that slipping out the side door of the bookshop is how Crowley became friendly with Mrs. Sandwich and looked at things like Crowley parking The Bentley away from the shop in different scenes, especially when he's staying into the night in 2008 in 1.01.

The "no nightingale" scene from Romeo & Juliet being Romeo sneaking out of Juliet's bed before dawn. The "no nightlife" dream:

"Dining at the Ritz" also has a secondary meaning related to this. While dining today means eating any type of snack or meal at any time of the day, it didn't originally mean that. It once only referred to eating breakfast. The Ritz is homophonic for "the writs." Writs are written works. "Dining at The Ritz" means dining at The Ritz but it also means something that Crowley and Aziraphale still have not yet done that we've seen-- having breakfast in the bookshop.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale would kill to live with Maud's sense of surety that her husband will return after he leaves. S2, in particular, gets into Aziraphale's trauma from once having Crowley disappeared to Hell in front of him. Living as a demon is a lot more dangerous for Crowley than delivering packages is for Lesley and Aziraphale worries every time Crowley leaves that he might not come back, to a point that Crowley is shown reassuring Aziraphale that he'll return, something it's doubtful he's saying in the scene below for the first time.

But something of note here, too, is that while this scene that introduces Lesley and Maud starts off with pretty clear Crowley = Lesley and Aziraphale = Maud paralleling, Crowley and Aziraphale mirror one another and basically all pairs of characters in the series are mixed parallels of both of them. This is true of even some parallels where one character seems to skew pretty heavily towards one character over the other, like Anathema and Newt, as well as ones that are shown to be pretty well-mixed parallels, like Maggie and Nina in S2 or Gabriel and Beez. So, where do Lesley and Maud start to flip parallels a bit?

It's in when Lesley delivers his last package-- the message to Death-- and then the Lesley = Aziraphale holds through the end of S1, setting up Aziraphale mirroring some Lesley in S2.

Lesley sees what he is to deliver to Death and, again, doesn't ask questions (FFS LESLEY lol) but when he feels he's trapped by the package he must deliver, what does he do? He writes a note for his wife and leaves it on the dash of his truck. The note is simple and to the point. It just reads: I love you, Maud.

Its mirror scene? Aziraphale having The Bentley play Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square."

Suddenly, we have a whole different tone to Lesley's story happening-- just as the end of S2 expanded to show us a whole different tone to Aziraphale's. Suddenly, the suicide ideation that smashes up at the end of a certain short story about S2's beloved bananafish feels at play here in these stories as well.

Maybe Lesley was never quite as okay as he seemed and that's why he was willing to leave his wife a note and deliver a package to Death. Maybe he didn't exactly mean to die but he also never saw himself as an individual enough to question a directive that would lead to his death. Maybe, contrasting Lesley, there's Aziraphale in S2, going around the neighborhood with his Lesley-like clipboard and giving away his possessions, delivering his own end times, it not yet clear that he's pushing himself too fast too quickly and is headed for a breakdown.

Lesley and Aziraphale are both the only characters to see Death appear in front of them in the series so far and a fall is a kind of death. Lesley is one of the only characters in the series to actually die and he's basically S1's version of The Second Coming already, as he comes back to life when Adam resets reality. Lesley's story is tied to The Final 15 more than we might realize though we likely have to wait until S3 to see it all play out.

Lesley is still on the clock after coming back to life lol. He has learned exactly nothing from this. Him living is somehow as much of a tragedy as if he had died because what happened to him does not appear to have really affected him much and he is still just carrying on, doing the job that is his entire identity. He's picking up a box from two random dudes on a bench in front of a church all wow, what a day, huh! Like, dude... go the fuck home to your wife. You died. Take the evening off. Why the hell are you still at work?!

In this way, he's the complete opposite of both Crowley and Aziraphale, really, as both of them ask enough questions that, even at their worst, they'll never be masking a lack of a sense of self through a false sense of purpose as much as Lesley is.

Whatever else of his story Crowley and Aziraphale wind up mirroring won't be exactly the same but the paralleling stories also meeting a bit for the first time at the end of S1, when Lesley picks up the box, is quite sweet, in that it's not even really the box so much that ties the stories together but the mention of the absent Maud.

Lesley tells the main characters whose story he's crossed into that, if he were to tell his wife what happened to him that day, she wouldn't believe him, right? It's what he says before walking away with the box, leaving us with thoughts of Maud. As Lesley's story finishes in the season, so too does the parallel, and we get to the heart of it through the mention of Lesley's wife, as that is then what causes Aziraphale to look at Crowley with thoughtful fondness. It is taking the spousal parallel the audience sees and showing the characters themselves seeing it, too, as Aziraphale thinks about how he doesn't have to worry that his wife won't believe him today because she's been through it all with him.

Lesley and Maud began in the story seeming to be living the kind of life that Crowley and Aziraphale would love to have for themselves-- and there are elements of that life that Crowley and Aziraphale really would love to have. They're dying for their cottage and some cozy mornings of domestic fluff. What the story winds up showing us, though, is that Crowley and Aziraphale, individually and together, are much more free-thinking than Lesley and that they know one another so much better than Lesley and Maud do. While Lesley and Maud may have a marriage licence and the ability to be in bed together at dawn, they aren't sharing their lives and living a curious, free-thinking one together in the way that Crowley and Aziraphale already do.

[neonfretra]

does anyone want to discuss hrpf outside of shipping + written fic context . because i think about where what i do sits in relation to it all

for brevity i will be referring to the real person as the player and the fictionalized interpretation of the player as the character

to get things outta the way, i dont think theres very much you can say about real life people before you start crossin into real person fiction (rpf) territory LOL

transformative art is rpf. speculation is rpf. narratives is rpf. the second you start steppin away from a direct relay of the facts as is, we gettin in ficticious waters IMO. its really a neutral thing to me and my ethics begin and end at "dont show people who dont wanna see"

and its real funny to think about how i do art just because it feels like i set up way less barriers compared to people who DO write fic . i see all this talk about making sure you make your stuff login exclusive, about not sharin it to the people involved, disclaimers about how its in fact NOT a reflection of reality that your favorite athlete is mpregnant and YOU are are mfather.

and i just hit post and call it a day LOL

TO BE CLEAR there is definitely layers to it in the sense that i see similar amounts of caution with say ship art or certain degrees of raunch.

shipping in the rpf scene is funny to me in the sense of the tendency to treat shipping as THE exclusive rpf thing. like no i dont think my tomas tatar fanart is 1:1 on the reality front either. for example, nj devils hairline is not that far back and thags the only inaccuracy.

heres the kicker: mmy foot.

most of my doodles tend to evoke a degree of characterization or narrative. yeag maybe its a little less 30k slowburn and a little more fabian zetterlund shot putting a man but. that is fictional, that is a character

im not saying that rpf defines players more than the reality of them does but i do believe it does enforce certain views

in the spaces i hang around ive noticed the narrativization around certain characters being part fueled by the information that is filtered by reporters and part interpretations bounced back and forth by fandom . and when you have eyes on a story, its easy to pick out information solely as it agrees with you

maybe the most prominent narrative ive seen for the sharks has been macklin celebrini having a jock dad -> therefore he got daddy issues, joe thornton houses him -> therefore mentor and father figure joe thornton? where even though i havent seen any direct relay of information from any players (though ivent been looking LOL) a lot of the discussion around it revolves around this common understanding that it just is (the funnier part is arguably that will smith hockey has been doing more for this narrative for patrick marleau BUT NEITHER HERE NOR THERE.)

and its really interesting to note HOW fandom warps or weaves the story by going off common tropes or dynamics to make sense of the public facing parts we do see, which is what i think is magnified through the lens of fanworks but not (necessarily) CREATED by fanworks

which is where i feel my work is part of the. ecosystem??? life cycle??? and then we all return to the dirt and the worms eat us???

how much or how little we define the gap between player and character changes from person to person. i simply do not have that goin on here. devin cooley eats joey daccords hair take it or leave it. annnnd main tag that

other times i feel we wear the divide thin are when there is headcanon that uses facts about the player (ie a lot of ship talk) or when the character becomes the kneejerk understanding of the player (ie liveblogs. very fun way to get a read of a communitys feelings on something because of how immediate the reactions on it are)

the point of this post isnt to shame or interrogate people about participating in rpf, im not looking for those sort of feelings, im fascinated by fandom culture as a twig off the old branch and i would love to hear other perspectives on the same topic (and different communities! i dont have much involvement in fic. which is. a massive hole in my perspective on this probably)

is it possible to cross the line from rpf to plain old original content LOL (the answer is intent i know but. walk with me here its fun to think about)

naturally theres a degree of "original character" to every depiction . you gotta make up some amount of it. theres no clear separation OF rpf and original content because everything is about borrowing. you make characters with inspiration from other things. its near enough universal for someone who deals with characters to have at some point lifted a character directly out of their original context and made them their own.

its not just their face or name or some other physical attribute that makes it rpf id also argue because i have seen people using attributes of real people as "claims" for origubal characters (like a "faceclaim" to say "this is how i imagine my character to look")

on top of that there is fluctuating interest on actually depicting the player, with approaches that i have heard of ranging from "character that shares the quantitative aspects of the player and thats IT" to "character that was made heavily referencing to things the player has said/done"

its interesting when certain players in rpf have a consistent character! which trends to be in teams with a more active rpf oriented fanbase (vs interest mainly in the real life hockey played), comparing the fandom of kraken to the golden knights on tumblr for instance. its also interesting to note that more popular teams just have more rpf centric leans. because there are more people to write rpf. i mean also we are on a fandom centric site and rpf bridges that gap from narrative/character fueled media and sportsball more LOL

(if you like sports from a purely sports oriented angle do you enjoy watching it? genuine question. because at what point is it "i could just be doing this myself" because ive hit that point with other things before LMAO)

i do call the difference being more "fandom" oriented but IDK if thats correctly using the word or just less syllables. and on top of that i cant exactly tell you if its popularity or stand out personality that holds more sway. though then again i guess those two traits arent separate from each other necessarily. or even that those are the only two factors to broad appeal (probably popularity with another player is up there. but im not trying to find a formula for most attractive to make rpf of)

to return to the kraken because that is the most rpf oriented team i follow, i do notice when players portrayed consistently. i can definitely tell you like. one or two character traits about players i do not follow the media of solely from liveblogs and art. complexity of the character varies by a lot, though i do think its interesting to consider the hows and whys.

a trait or interest being highlighted by media (i tend to see this in offical media coverage that gets spread by jokes) -> the character heavily revolves around this feature in jokes or casual reference, with heavy personal interpretation

media pushing a narrative by following a more cohesive timeline or story structure (i usually see this in fanworks. easier to identify the influence of IMO) -> fairly consistent character backstory or , at least in the broad strokes of it

just general agreements about tropes that are appealing with little basis on the player -> this is usually the more relationship focused character interpretation

there isnt usually just one factor (and this isnt an exhaustive list of factors) to one characters history. unless its a super new player on the radar.

its definitely a character that belongs to the fandom! as in the unique character to the unique community! its actually really funny how they evolve. you could probably fingerprint someones influences if you tried hard enough. with how new the kraken is (and the fact the fandom leans more towards being united as one body than any other team ive seen so far) it does get pretty easy to get it down to the post but. do your own treasure search. I wont deprive you!

(also its EMBARASSING... what if the people i mention SEE... im SHY...)

harder with an older fandom like the sharks there are so many dead and defunct sources or jokes so widely spread that it gets hard to locate the origin . because dead and defunct sources. though i think its growing a new ring around the fandom tree because of the newer players! so its a thought. to think about how different events influence the size and activity of a fanbase and to ask how different fans from different. eras? of a fanbase interact (or dont).

again i notice this in the sharks fandoms by comparing fans from the playoff contending sharks era (last playoff season was 18-19? start is a little murky but ill toss out that 2012 was the year tomas hertl was drafted because tomas hertl was an era of the sharks LOL a whole 12 years! i know people younger than his professional career and those people are catching up to me in height. humbling!) and fans from when the sharks were very much not playoff contending (quite an amount of the current active fans LOL). not sure if theres much to say without looking stupid. different jokes, notable players, friend groups, feelings towards other teams. all still feel very strongly about general manager mike grier scattering players like dandellion seeds to the wind.

(AGAIN. HOPING NO SHARKS FANS NOTICE THIS. IM SHY)

how many sharks fans havent seen logan couture on ice

again i am saying all this as someone who ACTIVELY participates in this BTW!!! does anyone notice that players i dont know definitely have a flatter "whatever is the funniest thing to say" angle . or that characters of players i know a few things about have like one punchline . or even that certain characters are consistent and not just bound by direct interpretations of one moment (which i do a lot of when im liveblogging) (dont get your hopes up for anything new here, the character usually is "pathetic and a little bit of a bastard")

i keep writing these disclaimers like. if someone disagreed this strongly they would not be reading this far. hi! is anyone still here. is someone still reading.

i have created life and i dont know to kill it.

i talk about one of my depictions of a player as a separate character (that is to say, a SEPARATE character from the character intended to represent the player) and i have NO idea if this is like. an OC? a defamation case in waiting? my spawn? do i have to pay childcare. does anyone know who or what im talking about or has the character been festering in my mind like an infection.

is it just me???

my advice to you: if you dont want somethin to come back dont give it a name.

consider dissecting your personal and the more widespread fandoms take on players and characters! its fun for me but i also just like taking things apart ^_^ i fear i may not be as analytical as this post demands i do a lot of restating information and thats it

[oliviablancmom]

"Enemies - Pablo Gavi (Part IV)"

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x OC!reader

A/N: And finally, we have the fourth part. I hope you enjoy it. It’s so hard to write them, but I feel so happy seeing the path they take. I hope you like it.

Gavi realized he still hated the cameras, and the media side of football was something he had carried with him since he was just a kid. Yes, he was only 17 years old, and as he grew, people always said that his shyness around cameras would eventually pass, but it wasn’t. He still got embarrassed during interviews, felt equally uncomfortable in photo shoots, and, above all, it was still strange to see his name in newspapers and gossip pages. That’s why he had mentally cursed the person responsible for the chaos he had been dealing with in the past weeks.

Journalists kept speculating about the nature of his relationship with her, weeks after the confusion during El Clásico. He had hoped it would have blown over, but on the contrary, people loved talking and making things up. What comforted him was that maybe she was also suffering from the incident, as she had locked her Instagram account, which was previously public.

"What are you thinking about?" Pedri asked. Gavi looked up at his friend, who had an inquisitive look on his face. That was another thing he had to deal with—Pedri had been a little annoying lately, especially when the subject involved the Madrileña.

"Don't you think this should have blown over by now?" Gavi asked. "I’ve already made it clear that I was just helping her, and people keep making things up. It’s annoying," Gavi huffed.

"Well, it’s a hot topic—‘Barcelona’s son and Madrid’s daughter,’" Pedri said dramatically, referencing a magazine headline. Gavi's scowl was immediate as if the title itself had struck him. He hated the way those words sounded like they were trying to tie something between him and Florence. It was ridiculous and infuriating. Not just because it was a media invention, but because there was something uncomfortably real about how people insisted on placing him next to the girl. Gavi huffed, frustrated with himself.

"Why do I care so much about this?" he asked almost unconsciously. It was just a stupid phrase from a magazine, but his mind kept returning to his interactions with Florence as if trying to decipher something beyond his understanding.

"So, what’s your thing with her, anyway?" Pedri pressed.

"There’s no thing," Gavi said quickly.

"That’s not what it looks like. You get all worked up about her," Pedri pushed further.

"I don’t!" His voice came out louder than he intended, but he couldn’t let Pedri think he was right. Not when even he didn’t fully understand what was going on. The silence that followed made his stomach twist. He glanced at Pedri, who had raised his eyebrows.

"Your reaction proves my point," Pedri laughed, and Gavi rolled his eyes.

"Why are you being so annoying about this?" Gavi asked defensively.

"I’m just worried. You get too affected by what she says." Gavi abruptly stopped his workout, his mind flashing back to a similar accusation Florence herself had made.

He didn’t care that much about what she said; she was just... Boring, and someone had to tell her. Now that he knew who she was, she probably didn’t hear it enough. So, if the task fell to him, he would make sure she knew.

"If it were just a back-and-forth of insults, I wouldn’t be worried. But the problem is, it bothers you. I’m concerned it might start affecting your game," Pedri said with honest concern. Gavi swallowed hard. To him, Pedri’s worry was exaggerated. He didn’t care about what she said, quite the opposite, so he didn’t see how it could affect his performance. "I think you should ignore it if you want my advice."

Gavi thought about it and suppressed the urge to say he didn’t want the advice, but he didn’t want to be rude to Pedri. He understood his friend’s concern, but it was unwarranted. He wasn’t affected, and he wouldn’t let it impact his performance on the field.

"Yeah, I think I’ll just ignore it," Gavi said, avoiding Pedri's attentive gaze. Gavi remained silent for the rest of the training, lost in his thoughts.

******************************************

Florence used to love parties and gala dinners. Since she was a child, she was used to attending these events with her grandfather. They were her playground, where her favorite characters—football players from all over—were the main stars. She was always walking around, paying attention to conversations and taking photos.

But since her grandfather had turned it into a professional obligation, the events had become dull. Especially now, Florence felt he was still punishing her for the mess she had caused during the last El Clásico, which had drawn the kind of attention Florentino hated.

The King was hosting a special dinner for the Spanish national team, a sort of good luck in advance for the Nations League finals.

Florence was accompanying Carvajal, the Real Madrid player who had been called up. Both were greeting the royal family and had engaged in conversation. Florence listened carefully to what the princess was saying, but she wasn’t paying attention. There was something about her that got on her nerves, though she couldn’t explain what it was. That’s why she internally celebrated when others approached, allowing her to step aside.

"A little more of your visible irritation with the royal family, and I think we’d be kicked out," Carvajal whispered as they sat at their assigned table. "Princess rivalries," he joked, and Florence laughed.

"I’m not in the mood to be social tonight," Florence shrugged.

"Is your grandfather still making your life difficult?" He asked with concern, knowing well the expectations the man placed on his heir. Florence shrugged, choosing not to respond so the conversation would end quickly. She didn’t want to be there, and she didn’t want to talk about her grandfather.

Carvajal started a conversation with other players sitting at the same table, and Florence looked around the room, noticing a few important people. Her grandfather always said these events were about being noticed and building connections, and she was sure that when he saw her, he would ask for a summary, so that's why she walked gracefully around the room, greeting some important people.

But before she could venture further into the hall, she stopped as some speeches began, including one from the king. The man and his family loved sports and were always present when the Spanish national team was playing, so there was always a higher level of formality. Florence sighed in boredom; at other times, she would have loved all of this. As she watched the king’s speech intently, she felt an irritatingly familiar presence beside her and didn’t suppress the urge to roll her eyes. As if she had developed a sixth sense for noticing the player’s presence, she could use that to avoid running into him. After all, Florence was furious; because of him, she was at odds with her grandfather and had to deal with stupid, baseless rumors.

Gavi stopped next to the girl, and though she didn’t bother to look at him, the way she took a deep breath showed that she had noticed his presence.

"Is your mood bad because your team is doing poorly this season?" Gavi teased, and she finally looked at him.

"We’ll eventually find our way back, unlike you guys, who start well and then it’s a complete disaster." Gavi’s expression hardened, and a smile appeared on the girl’s face as he rolled his eyes and looked forward again.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Gavi looked at her again, his brows furrowed.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"The last time I saw you, you had that same confused look on your face. Have you figured out what it was?" She asked with a shrug, and Gavi’s mouth dropped in surprise at how well she had read him. Gavi quickly glanced back, seeing that Pedri had a watchful eye on him. Gavi gave a small smile to his friend and turned his attention back to the girl beside him, ignoring the memory of the conversation he had with Pedri.

"No," she concluded, turning to face forward with a smug smile.

"It wasn’t anything important." Gavi replied, trying not to lose face, and she looked at him, surprised.

"Are you sure? You seemed really bothered," she insisted.

"Oh, querida, is this concern for me?" Gavi joked, watching Florence grimace.

"Never," the girl quickly retorted. Gavi nodded with a smug smile, raising his glass to his mouth.

"Why aren’t you over there with your girlfriend?" Gavi choked on the liquid he was drinking, drawing attention from a few people, and felt his face heat up. He looked up at the girl in front of him, eyebrows raised and an amused smile on her face.

"What are you talking about?" Gavi asked, clearing his throat. Florence tilted her head in a direction, and Gavi followed it, seeing the king and his family in the distance. This time, Gavi's face twisted into a grimace.

"Your fans attacked me for days, claiming I was ruining their couple," Florence said humorously, remembering the numerous hateful messages she received after the confusion in the last El Clásico. Gavi had seen some fan pages sharing things along those lines—it was funny. The player looked at Florence, who remained focused on the royal family’s table, and then looked back at him.

"Would you leave your career for her?" Gavi resisted the urge to choke on his air.

"What are you talking about?" He asked indignantly.

"For you to date someone from the royal family, you wouldn’t be able to be a football player anymore. Because of all the rules they have to follow and everything," Florence explained. Gavi scanned the girl’s face for any sign of mockery, but she was serious. For the first time, they were having more than just teasing conversations, and it stirred an odd sensation deep in his stomach.

"I’m not going to stop being a football player," Gavi said impatiently, just thinking about it gave him a headache. Florence tilted her head, analyzing him.

"So how are you going to be with your princess?" Gavi rolled his eyes.

"Stop it," he said, feeling frustrated, his face heat up. A mocking smile appeared on Florence's face.

"Or, she’d have to stop being a princess to be with you, which honestly would be a mistake. Imagine, giving up being a princess for you." Florence looked him up and down, and the action deeply infuriates Gavi.

"Have you stopped being a disappointment to your grandfather?" Gavi asked all at once. The words flew out of his mouth so quickly that even he was surprised. Here's the thing: she pushed a nerve in him, something that drove him crazy, something he only felt at the height of adrenaline in a tight game. Gavi had seen that her grandfather’s approval was important to her, and the silent, hidden crying he had also witnessed, told him that he had hit a sensitive topic. The girl looked at him in shock, her eyes wide for a moment as if he had just struck an exposed nerve. Anger flashed across her face, hardening her expression. For a moment, her lips trembled as if she were about to say something, but the words failed to come out. Instead, Florence clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, and with a sharp motion, she pushed Gavi. She spun on her heels, her legs rigid as she marched toward the exit, each step echoing on the floor like a relentless beat. Involuntarily, Gavi found himself following her.

"Leave me alone," Florence said over her shoulder, visible irritation in her voice.

"You’re losing your talent for insulting me," Gavi said, more annoyed than he wanted to admit. Florence turned to face him.

"Don’t worry about that. You’re an idiot, a terrible player, with a huge ego," Florence said all at once, and Gavi laughed.

"If I’m such a terrible player and I still beat your team, what does that make them?" Gavi asked humorously, and Florence rolled her eyes.

"You got lucky. You can’t rely on luck forever, Pablo," she said with a shrug, and Gavi was a bit shocked because up until then, she had never mentioned his name.

"Oh sure, when you lose it’s the other team’s luck, but when you win, you’re extraordinary, practically a Renaissance masterpiece," Florence furrowed her brows and let out a small laugh at the insult but quickly tried to hide it, turning away and continuing her escape from the hall. Gavi promptly continued following her to a distant area. On the way, they bumped into someone. An older man, accompanied by what was probably his family, looked familiar—some director of one of the leagues or something like that, Gavi couldn’t quite remember.

"Miss Perez, your grandfather hasn’t replied to my emails," the man said bluntly. Florence took a step back, bumping into Gavi, visibly uncomfortable.

"He’s busy," Florence said simply, ignoring the man’s outstretched hand, and then he turned his attention to the player.

"Gavi, you’re having a brilliant season."

"Thank you, sir," Gavi replied, returning the gesture. The player couldn’t see Florence’s expression clearly, but he was sure she was rolling her eyes.

"My daughter is a fan, Charlotte," the man turned to the shy girl behind him, who took a step forward. Gavi extended his hand to greet the girl, who blushed. Florence rolled her eyes—seriously, what was it with girls and their fascination with him? Florence impatiently poked him, and the player quickly turned, seeing a disapproving look on Florence’s face.

"Oh, so the rumors are true," the man pointed to the two of them. "I thought Florentino Perez would never allow it, but it’s good for the new generations to understand that rivalry is only on the field." Gavi frowned, trying to decipher the director’s words. Gavi turned his attention back to the man, visibly confused by the direction of the conversation. "A beautiful couple."

"Yes, we have to go," Florence quickly interrupted, grabbing Gavi’s arm and dragging him away from the conversation before he could process what was happening.

"What was that?" Gavi asked, his voice filled with irritation and confusion. "You just implied we’re together. Have you lost your mind?"

Florence gave him an impassive look. "He was going to ask for a picture, and believe me, you don’t want to be associated with that man. I did you a favor."

"Favor? You’re just making everything more complicated," Gavi shot back, his eyes fixed on Florence, searching for an explanation. There was something more behind that gesture, something he couldn’t quite grasp but that made him uncomfortable.

Before he could press her further, Pedri appeared beside them, a mischievous smile on his face. "Hey, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?" He asked, clearly curious about the tension between them.

Gavi averted his gaze from Florence, his blood boiling with frustration. "No, she’s leaving," he responded brusquely, his tone colder than he intended.

Florence raised an eyebrow, defiant. "I’m not. Nice to meet you, I’m Flo..." She extended her hand to Pedri, but before she could finish the introduction, Gavi grabbed her hand and dragged her away, his touch firm and decisive.

As they moved away from Pedri, Gavi led her to the table where a player from her club was sitting, but when they got there, he hesitated. There was a palpable tension in the air, a heavy silence that neither of them knew how to break. Florence looked at him, perplexed, her expression shifting between confusion and frustration.

Gavi abruptly let go of her hand, the warmth of the contact still pulsing on his skin. "Why do you feel the need to disrupt my life?" he muttered, more to himself than to her, but Florence heard him.

She took a step closer, narrowing the distance between them, her eyes shining with an intensity that made him hold his breath. "Isn't that what we both do?" she replied quietly, her voice laced with something deeper, something Gavi wasn’t ready to face. "Why are you so upset about this?" Her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion.

Gavi stared at her for a long moment, lost in the intensity of that gaze. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words failed him. The strange sensation in his stomach that he had felt earlier was now almost unbearable. He knew he should say something, anything, but all he could do was shake his head and walk away, leaving Florence behind, unsure if he was running from her or himself.

Gavi walked away, the feeling of disorientation growing with each step. As he moved further, he realized that contrary to what he had imagined, Florence's presence still lingered in his mind, like a persistent echo. He tried to convince himself that the discomfort was just irritation, but the image of her intense gaze wouldn't leave his thoughts, her voice was imprinted deep in his mind. It was deafening and maddening, the space she had occupied in his head, and he couldn’t understand or control the effects she had on him.

**********************************************

Gavi walked quickly through the hallway leading to the box where his family was. For the past few weeks, he had been avoiding the people who knew him so well, especially his sister, who could read his mind with just one look. With the mess inside his head, he decided he didn’t want to face them, which is why he hadn’t been going to his family house. Instead, he hid away in his apartment in the city center, so he could be alone with his confusion without anyone asking him about it.

He hugged his family quickly and exchanged a few words, a slight discomfort hanging in the air. Then he said goodbye just as quickly, but not before his sister Aurora stepped in front of him and looked at him intently.

“What’s going on?” she asked directly. Gavi frowned and grimaced.

“Nothing, Aurorita.” Gavi forced a smile and saw the frown deepen on his sister’s face.

“You only call me that when you want something or are hiding something from me,” she concluded.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Gavi shrugged.

“But something is going on. You’ve been avoiding us, you look exhausted, and according to your friends, you’re more annoying than usual.” His sister looked at him with concern. Gavi swallowed hard, feeling the anger rising within him, but he knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on his own family.

“I swear, it’s not—” Gavi didn’t finish his sentence, because the voice he heard echoing from the hallway caught his attention. He looked back so fast he felt a strain in his neck, but there was no one there. Great, that damned voice was stuck in his head.

He turned his attention back to his sister, who was watching him curiously, but before he could continue speaking, the voice echoed again, this time louder. “I have to go,” he said quickly, kissing his sister on the cheek before pulling away.

He walked fast down the corridor, but his steps were cautious, once again that feeling that a monster might jump at him at any moment crept in. In an involuntary gesture, Gavi clenched his fists, a growing anger, a strange sensation burning in his chest. As he rounded the corner in the hallway, he saw the monster that had been haunting his mind.

She was leaning against the wall, her phone pressed to her ear, one hand on her hip. Florence’s eyes were closed as she listened attentively to the voice on the other end of the line. She seemed completely absorbed in the conversation, her face drawn in visible frustration. Gavi, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, watched the scene with a sick satisfaction. Seeing her suffer comforted him in a way he refused to admit. It was a relief to know that, like him, she was also under pressure.

“What do you want me to do?” she said in a louder tone, breaking the bubble of concentration she was in. Gavi narrowed his eyes, realizing she hadn’t yet noticed his presence. A sly smile formed on his lips as he impulsively decided he wanted to interrupt whatever was happening.

“You’re not at your home to be yelling like that,” he said casually, not caring if the person on the other end of the line could hear him. And there it was, big blue eyes, looking straight at him. Florence’s response was an eye roll as if his presence was insignificant.

“No, I’m not,” she said into the phone, completely ignoring Gavi, which instantly irritated him.

.“I can’t do that, and I won’t,” she continued, her eyes now fixed on his. He saw impatience growing in her, but he also noticed something deeper, something he rarely saw: her eyes began to shine with a repressed emotion. She was becoming emotional, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Without thinking twice, Gavi crossed the hallway with firm steps, snatching the phone from Florence’s hand and ending the call without ceremony. The gesture was brusque and impulsive, but seeing the surprise and anger in her eyes made him feel... Something.

“What did you do?” Florence practically shouted, her voice filled with disbelief. Gavi froze for a second, only then realizing what he had done. Her expression grew even more perplexed when, out of pure reflex, he covered her mouth with one hand.

“I already told you, you’re not at your home to be yelling like that,” he said quickly, trying to maintain control. She frowned, and with a swift movement, pushed his hands away, her blue eyes sparkling with fury. Gavi felt a current of electricity run through his body at the brief contact, and he hated how that kept happening. His eyes locked on hers for a second longer than necessary, and he found himself wondering if she felt it too.

“Have you gone mad? He’s going to be furious,” she muttered, more to herself than to him, which only increased the tension. Florence made a desperate attempt to retrieve her phone, but Gavi lifted it out of her reach.

She grunted, frustrated and visibly exhausted. “Can you stop being so annoying?” she asked, almost in exasperation. For a brief moment, Gavi let his eyes wander over her face, and suddenly he understood. The weight of the conversation. It was about her grandfather. Of course it was about him.

Florence rarely showed vulnerability, especially not in front of him. But whenever her grandfather was involved, it was like an invisible wall came crashing down around her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice lower now, but still full of tension. Gavi frowned, confused.

“I don’t need your pity,” she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her body in a gesture of self-protection. Gavi noticed the movement. It was subtle but clear. A barrier. He knew that gesture; he had seen it many times. Maybe she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to seem. And knowing that made him feel a mix of power and discomfort.

“I don’t pity you,” he replied, letting out a short laugh. She rolled her eyes again, but this time, without the same force. When she didn’t throw a quick retort, he decided to press her. “Quite the opposite... I’m just making sure you behave. Like I said, you’re not at home.”

“Thank God I’m not,” Florence shot back. “I’d be extremely upset if this were my house.”

Gavi narrowed his eyes. “Are you ready to lose?” he asked, his voice dripping with provocation.

“Vinicius is going to destroy you today,” she replied confidently, making Gavi laugh out loud.

“You wish, querida,” he said with disdain. At that moment, Florence’s phone vibrated in his hand, and without thinking, Gavi glanced at the screen. The sight of a photo of Florence with the other player, he felt anger someway...

“Of course...” he muttered to himself before tossing the phone back to her, his irritation now evident.

Florence caught it in the air and looked at him for a moment before shaking her head, clearly exhausted from the exchange. Gavi, on the other hand, felt something shift inside him. He was eager for the game, not just because it would be the last El Clásico at Camp Nou before the stadium renovations, but because, somehow, something else was consuming him from within. Something he couldn’t name.

When the ball started rolling, Gavi played with unmatched intensity. He was truly having the game of his life, but his teammates didn’t seem to keep up with his pace. Misplaced passes, missed goals—it all piled up. He was furious.

"You need to tone down your intensity, or you’ll end up getting sent off," Xavi warned during the halftime break.

Gavi let out a sarcastic chuckle. "If the rest of the team was playing, I wouldn’t have to," he muttered. The locker room fell silent for a brief moment. He waited for some reaction, but nothing came. Xavi kept talking, and everyone started getting ready for the second half.

As he put on his jersey, he felt Pedri’s gaze on his back, watching his every move.

“What?” Gavi asked, frustrated.

“I thought we agreed you’d ignore her,” said Pedri, reminding him of the last conversation they had. Gavi rolled his eyes.

“I am,” he replied, frowning.

“Then why did Aurora text me asking what you had with her?” Pedri turned his phone, showing a picture of Gavi and Florence in the hallway.

“Aurora are being nosy. And so are you,” Gavi said, his patience running thin. “And why are you so interested? Are you interested in her?”

Pedri laughed. “As if you’d let that happen.”

That phrase hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. It bothered him deeply. “Man, I’m not trying to push your buttons,” Pedri started, but Gavi cut him off.

“Then don’t,” he shot back, his voice cold. “You’re annoying me with this. Nothing is going on, so stop getting involved.”

Pedri raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. But Gavi was already at his limit. He stormed out of the locker room, bursting with pent-up energy.

In the second half, his intensity only grew. The frustration with Pedri, the confusion about Florence, the team’s mediocre performance—all of it boiled inside him. When Vinicius Jr. ran down the left side of the field. Gavi didn’t think. He slid in, taking the player down aggressively.

Chaos ensued. Real Madrid players rushed at him, and Gavi, of course, didn’t back down. He shoved Benzema, who was yelling in his face until the referee intervened. Vinicius got up with a mocking smile, and Gavi tried to go at him again, only to be held back by his teammates.

The red card was inevitable.

Laughing in disdain, he walked off the field. His eyes drifted toward the box seats as if trying to spot Florence. The anger boiled inside him. As he shrugged off Xavi, who was both trying to confront and reprimand him, he headed straight for the locker room, ignoring everything and everyone.

When he turned the corner, there she was, sitting on a bench. He huffed, frustrated.

He huffed, frustrated. "Not now, Florence. I’m not in the mood for your provocations." His words came out harsher than he intended, but it was the truth. Her presence stirred something in him that he didn’t know how to deal with. She slowly raised her gaze from her phone, with an expression he couldn’t read. The air between them suddenly felt heavier, as if something unspoken hung in the space between them.

"Not everything I do is about you, querido." Florence shot back, but this time, there was no teasing. The absence of mockery in her tone threw him off. It was rare to see her like this, without her usual wall of sarcasm. And for a second, he felt an opening, a crack in the wall she kept so high. "But if you want some advice..."

"I don’t," Gavi said sharply. What was it with the people close to him today wanting to give him advice and tell him what to do? Florence stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and Gavi felt his throat go dry at the sudden closeness. His eyes ran over her face—there was no sign of irony, no sign of irritation, but still, Gavi could see that lingering glimmer in her eyes, the one he had promised himself he would strip away so he could see it more clearly.

"Your intensity and provocation on the field will be appreciated up to a certain point. But at some point, it’s going to get annoying, to the point where even your fans will start to hate it," she said in a surprisingly calm tone. That caught him off guard. Florence rarely spoke with such gentleness. She looked him straight in the eyes, and Gavi felt a discomfort growing in his chest.

That was new, and he didn’t know how to handle it. His mind immediately went back to when he saw her at the gala dinner hosted by the king, and she stopped him from taking pictures with a guest, someone Gavi later realized wouldn’t have been a good association. He looked at her, confused.

Florence raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. He wanted to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Could she be right? The doubt appeared quickly and annoyingly, but he pushed it away. No. He was playing well, and giving it his all. There was nothing wrong with that. Still, the uneasiness grew.

Ignoring how he felt, he turned his back on her and headed for the locker room. But no matter how hard he tried, her words echoed in his head. The discomfort increased. Why was this bothering him so much? Maybe she wasn’t wrong. Maybe he was so surprised by the calm and honest tone that he didn’t know how to react. That wasn’t her, that wasn’t them. The player stopped on his heel and turned back. Immediately, a smirk appeared on the girl's face.

"You know what, I don’t need your advice. You can’t just sit on your pedestal and think you have any superiority to talk to me." Gavi snapped, completely annoyed.

“Okay...” she replied with amusement. “I told you I wasn’t your good luck charm.” She raised her brows. Gavi furrowed his, confused, and then his mind recalled when he had made that connection. There it was—the provocation, the irony. That he could handle, that he could push back against. Gavi chose not to respond, so he turned and continued on his way without saying another word.

Gavi had declined his usual ride with Pedri, still embarrassed by the way he had treated his friend. He also didn’t want to go with his family because they would ask questions about his mood and his expulsion, especially his sister, who would bombard him with comments, and the last thing he wanted was to be rude to yet another person that night.

So now he was with his friend Chris, about to enter his friend’s girlfriend’s house. It was funny how Chris had a key to her parents’ house and everything, for someone who swore the relationship wasn’t serious, it was at quite an advanced stage.

“Baby,” Danielle said as soon as Chris walked in, kissing and hugging him. Gavi quickly looked away from the scene, feeling awkward for a few minutes. “Oh, you brought company,” Danielle said, stepping away from her boyfriend and greeting Gavi with a quick hug.

“You're okay with it, right?” Chris asked, and Gavi wanted to kill him because he had sworn he had already talked to her.

“Yeah, it’s just... well, I had to bring someone too,” Danielle said, somewhat hesitant.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s not like we’re short on rooms. If it’s a cute girl, they could even share a room, and Gavi could finally get out of his rut.” Gavi flipped his friend off while Danielle let out an overly loud and awkward laugh. Chris looked at her, confused.

“They’d kill each other before that happens...” she muttered under her breath, but Gavi heard it, which confused him until he heard footsteps coming from the stairs and a familiar voice that had been haunting him everywhere.

“Dani, are these the only towels you have?” Silence fell when the figure appeared at the top of the stairs, distracted by something on her phone, not even bothering to look up. Danielle quickly glanced between her boyfriend and Gavi.

“Florence, darling, I told you we don’t have 500-thread Egyptian cotton towels or anything like that. We’re mere mortals. My mom was hoping you’d bring some so she could steal them from you,” Danielle said, walking toward what Gavi now realized was her friend. The girl finally lifted her eyes to her friend and then noticed there were more people there.

“Oh, hi, Chris...” She came down the last step and then got a full view of Gavi. “You’ve got to be kidding me...” she said, shocked. Gavi rolled his eyes.

“Oh, right,” Chris said, finally catching on. “You guys are enemies and all that,” he said, moving to stand next to his girlfriend. Gavi was in his bubble of shock. He quickly glanced around and realized that Danielle’s house was the same one where Chris had hosted his last party, where he had also ended up running into Florence. Gavi had always wanted to ask how his friend knew Florence but had never had the chance—or needed to.

Florence crossed her arms in front of her body and raised an eyebrow at Gavi. If she expected him to greet her, she could keep waiting. All he wanted was to end the night in peace; she had already disturbed his life enough that day. He must have seriously offended the universe with how it was playing tricks on him. With the distance between Madrid and Barcelona, and considering the teams only had four Clásicos that year, their encounters were becoming strangely frequent.

It was almost as if his hatred for her had the power to transport her directly into his reality.

Gavi looked at his friend and saw him whispering something to Danielle, who was watching the scene, concerned. Before anyone could say anything, the doorbell rang.

“Thank God...” Danielle exhaled. “It must be the pizza.” She laughed awkwardly and walked past everyone to the door. Before Gavi could see who it was, he noticed Florence’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open in shock, which made him turn quickly, seeing a tall man dressed in a suit.

“I’m not going back,” she said, her voice rising, with something Gavi couldn’t identify as anger or disappointment.

“Come on, Florence, your grandfather told me not to leave here without you. And if necessary, to carry you.” The man sounded impatient. Gavi looked back at Florence; her eyes were bright, and her face was turning red. That strange feeling inside Gavi returned.

“Well, tell him you didn’t find me,” Florence said simply.

“Your grandfather knows this is the only place you’d come. He asked me to remind you that you’re still a minor, and he’s responsible for you when your parents aren’t around.” The man continued. Florence let out a bitter laugh.

“Well, you’ll have to carry me then because I’m not going voluntarily,” Florence retorted, defiant. Gavi glanced at the man by the door. Despite his cold posture, Gavi could sense worry and hesitation in his face.

“He said if you don’t come with me, he’ll disinherit you, and you’re fired from your club duties.” Silence fell over the room to the point where even breathing could no longer be heard. Gavi lowered his eyes to the floor, somewhat shocked by the direction the conversation had taken, and also refused to look at Florence because he knew if he did, that strange feeling inside him would return to haunt him.

“Incredible,” she said with a shaky breath, and it was impossible not to look at her. She swallowed hard, her eyes briefly falling on Gavi’s, and he saw her face turn red again. Gavi wanted to make some sarcastic comment, maybe smirk at the situation, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to; he just kept his eyes on hers.

“Florence, your grandfather will disinherit you when he finds out about this,” the man said more firmly, noticing the exchange of looks between the two. Gavi looked at him, confused about what he was referring to. Florence sighed heavily and walked past everyone, grabbing the bag that was on the couch. She quickly hugged Danielle.

“I’ll see you in Madrid,” she said, kissing her friend on the cheek and heading out the door, bumping into the driver.

Danielle quickly closed the door and then turned to Gavi.

“I know you love provoking her, but if you tell anyone about this or use it against her, I’ll kill you myself,” she said firmly to Gavi, who widened his eyes. He didn’t know if he was more shocked by the way she had spoken to him or by the fact that Florence had talked about him with someone and even blamed him for their situation. If it was her who provoked him, ironically, Danielle’s words had no effect, as Gavi couldn’t suppress the internal laugh at the thought that he now had something to continue his exchange with Florence.

**********************************************

a/n: I hope you guys have like this one, let me know... We probably won't have the same scheme as it was with pedriii, with three chapters, and bonus ones.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

I have alluded to my background in medicine in previous posts and in the author’s notes of my stories. I have had these thoughts circulating in my head about Apollo and Asclepius for a while, and I just need to release them.

TW: Mentions of Death, Healthcare Stories, Blood

I work in a sinking ship in the American healthcare system. (But that’s another thing that I won’t talk about, this is about Apollo and Asclepius). I think the thing that is hardest about working in my field (Emergency Medicine) is that I watch people suffer, and obviously I signed up for that when I got into it. But, sometimes I am the one that makes people suffer—that is what people do not realize. Healing is painful. And resurrection is the MOST painful. When I do CPR I crack ribs (which is an unfortunate reality of proper resuscitation efforts) and I look down at dead faces, and I don’t really think. I just have a metronome going in my head to the beat, and I am really good at CPR. I pull people back almost every time I do CPR—I get people back—I circulate the meds, I remind the heart how it works, but ultimately, almost all these people let go again. And I clean up the body for the family to see, and I pick trash off the floor from all the garbage we produce when we resuscitate, I pour hydrogen peroxide on the blood to make it bubble and vanish, and sometimes if I’m alone in those efforts (because no one likes cleaning up), I tell the person goodbye and I’m sorry it hurt.

Asclepius (there’s obviously more context and meaning to his story) couldn’t say goodbye, and he couldn’t tell people sorry. He kept defying Fate. He kept bringing them back, but the thing is: sometimes a second life is not a gift. He is a warning sign to doctors and medical professionals that life has to have an end, we cannot bring the world back, we can’t rob death. Because here’s the thing, if we focus too much on Making People Live Again, it will kill us. Maybe not with a lightning bolt, but slowly, overtime, our faith dies, our belief in humanity dies.

I think of it every time I see his staff.

And I wonder about Apollo too, who stormed the forge of the cyclopes for revenge—slaying the makers of Zeus’s bolt. I think about the grief families feel at loss. But, Apollo didn’t bring Asclepius back. He didn’t defy fate like Asclepius did, he let him have his death, and I think that’s utterly fascinating. That in a story about healing, medicine, and resurrection—the god of healing lets someone go even though it hurts.

[chevvy-yates]

Sending out kudos to everyone who has shown their love towards Ryder for the past two years.

I love u all very much and every engagement, be it even just a like, means a lot to me.

I've intended to sorta make a cool post of some older vp of him as of today, September 17th, exactly 2 years ago I have created Ryder,— back then as a supposed supportive character for Vijay, very unsure if I would like him as Ry didn't visually turn out as I wanted him to be in the first place and he never went that way either afterwards — yet I find myself writing those lines instead.

I've accepted his look and his imperfection started to grow on me with each picture I took of him. Unlike my other ocs he went his own way leading me along to discover his personality. That's what makes him so different compared to my other blorbos and has me so attached to him.

I did not plan to make him a raver (he was supposed to become an 80s goth punk, a total different style than he's got now) neither that he would end up with a rogue AI controlling him. Only his name, basic info and the toxic family story was planned right from the beginning but that's pretty much it – Ryder showed me the rest of it.

Within the year 2023 I noticed more and more that Ryder has slowly but surly turned out to be my main character.

He turned out to be the most expressive and photogenic one of them all. I don't see him as the prettiest looking either yet he's my most precious and I love every pixel about him.

He's the one thing in my life I am actually truly 100% proud of.

Almost all my ocs exist because of him. They are his support characters. Without him half of them would not even exist. There would be no Thyjs. Even Garnet exists so Ry can live out his passion (that was not really put into the game but exists as lore: Technoise).

I am beyond happy to have created him.

He helps me in a lot of rather personal ways too I do not need to address here.

I got so much to tell about him (also about my other ocs) yet idk if I should continue or not as I find myself stuck with overthinking about it bc of lack of public response literally everywhere (this excludes private chat talks with close friends). Maybe Ryder's too intimidating (not the first time I would read that), his lore gets overlooked easily, or it's to much (confusing) text.

I cannot make anyone force-like him. Tastes are different. Minority is into others oc lore. Less time to read it all. The list is long. I'm aware of it all.

But I cannot underline it enough: do never hesitate to ask me questions about him. He's on my mind 24/7 and my biggest wish is to get this story out and done some day (whenever it will be) and receive some actual feedback on it what was liked.

Just a tiny detail is enough. <3

Another wish I have ever since I joined the CP77 fandom: that people would go back to comment each other more. We all do have little time for it, we all think "oh no so much text to read", we all are in our own bubbles rarley coming out to explore another bubble within this universe. It takes a lot of effort to do. people do seem scared on top to write anything at all for numerous reasons. I have all those problems as well. But I try to sit down and read the one or other lore chunk others wrote down and give a tiny comment as best as I can to make the creator have a smile on their lips. I truly wish we all would do this at least once a week to one person. once a month would be also fine. But if we don't this fandom will be dead soon enough and all thats left is just liking vp with characters on it we know almost nothing about. And maybe even those characters won't have lore anymore bc people stop creating it.

[jasminerva]

What kind of father would Nagumo be?

Saw this magnificent fanart of papa!Gumo and got inspo!

gn!reader co-parent

If you manage to get this man to settle down AND have a kid with you, he (and your kid) is going to make your life a living hell and heaven.

Nagumo would be an unpredictable but fun dad, always coming up with spontaneous activities to keep his kid happy and entertained.

He'd pull small pranks on and with his child, like hiding their favourite toy or sneaking up on them, just to see them laugh when they catch him.

You know peekaboo? Think to the EXTREME! Gumo covering his kid's eyes and VOILA he's a whole 'nother person! (Warning: this may or may not traumatize your child, like, have you seen the videos where babies cry after their dads just shave their beards???) Soon, I'm sure the kid will get used to it and can tell when their dad is disguised better than you can.

Despite his carefree attitude, he'd be fiercely protective, always keeping an eye on his kiddo from the shadows to make sure they're safe.

He'd make teaching self-defence a game, showing his child how to be quick and nimble without making it feel like a strict lesson.

Nagumo would struggle with deep emotional conversations, but he'd always be a good listener when his child wanted to talk, especially if they were feeling down. He'd be on their level (much to your chagrin.)

On that note, you most likely will have to be the 'mean' to his 'fun' parent. Don't even get me started on the 'birds and the bees' talk. He might even volunteer to do it, but I wouldn't count on him to do it properly.

Physical affection would be a big thing for him—playfully ruffling his child's hair, giving them gentle pats on the back, blowing raspberries on their cheeks and bellies, or even picking them up for a hug and swinging them around. Just keep an eye out in case he starts throwing the kid in the air (you can trust him to always catch them, but you don't want either of them getting too carried away).

He'd probably joke around with other parents and show up at school events unpredictably, causing a stir with his antics, but always making his child feel proud and loved.

Nagumo would encourage his child to be independent, letting them figure things out on their own while secretly making sure they're safe every step of the way.

When it comes to advice, he'd drop bits of wisdom disguised as offhand remarks, teaching his child important life lessons in the most unconventional ways.

He wouldn't follow a strict parenting style, instead preferring to give his kiddo the freedom to explore the world, knowing he'd always be there if they needed him.

If his kid ever felt embarrassed or shy about something, Gumo would immediately do the same thing, just to make them laugh and feel better about it.

He would tell white lies / unrealistic jokes to his kid because he believes children and their innocence should be protected (and maybe teased for their naïveté). "Santa is fosho real!" "I went to Area 51 a while back!" "If you eat your carrots, you can see in the dark like me!"

Nagumo would spoil tf out of his kid--whether it's toys or sweets. He'd be responsible for all their potential cavities, but he'd also ensure the kiddo brushes their teeth every time (maybe even using one of those fun songs to count the time, etc). The kid would never think of it as a chore with him around.

When the kid is young-young, like still a toddler/preschool-aged and did things to get them in trouble, Gumo would get scolded along with them (but mostly him, because he should know better and it's probably his own dang influence). When the kid is school-aged, they will get scolded equally (except you can withhold a lot more from Nagumo lmao). I'm going to post a mini scenario of this one within the next few days! Stay tuned!!!

Thank you for brainstorming with me, Memi (@dearsecretlover)! The spoiled rotten with toys and scolding were just 🤌 the best additions!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

People asking which one we get between Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie, while I'm sitting here in a Comm class thinking "Why not both? Lmao". We all recognize them easily, so having it a twist(heh) of both, with Jack's being a hero character and Oogie being the main bad, could work out with how they actually are.

How Yana could go about it, idk, we'll have to wait and see. But honestly, am so fucking hyped for it. But what exactly do you think could be a possible plot idea or what do you think could happen in the event?

You can answer at your own leisure.

[Referencing this post!]

I don’t think it’s strange at all that people are speculating which character will be the one twisted. Yes, Fellow and Gidel were introduced as a pair, meaning that there is no limit or precedent set for there only be one new character revealed. However, it’s very clear that Fellow was the star of the show, as he has the stronger presence (and ended up getting the SSR as well). Ultimately, it does mean they end up being treated like a single character rather than individuals anyway. So really, I think most fans are still running on the logic that only “one” can be twisted.

The problem with Jack and Oogie is that they are both strong presences, neither dominating the other when it comes to being attention grabbing. Fellow and Gidel go together, but Jack and Oogie are opposing forces, not teammates, in their own story. This makes it hard to predict which of them will be twisted and makes it less likely they’d be crammed into the same card.

(ncbsbsvwjwheisn NOT GONNA LIE, I’m really hyped for a twisted!Jack Skellington… but a part of me is also really attached to my OC that’s twisted from Jack 🤡 That’s not to say that I don’t want a canonized one; I think I’d actually ASCEND if we got a twisted!Jack Skellington for real!!! It’s just that I wouldn’t know what to do with my OC after the fact 🤷‍♂️ Something similar happened with my Snow White OC when Neige was introduced in book 5 www)

A popular idea I’ve seen in circulation is another isekai plot where either the students go to Halloween Town or the Nightmare Before Christmas characters come to Twisted Wonderland from Halloween Town. I’d wager that’s a pretty safe guess! Like… they’re doing their Halloween parade prep and there’s a new character disrupting things. Maybe they’ll have to pull off a heist or kidnapping of some kind?? 🤔 It would be funny if the NRC boys had to help play matchmaker for a Sally and Jack/j Personally (and this is a stretch), I really would like to see some kind of casino or gambling element because I love those design details for Oogie’s lair. Not sure if it would make sense being a large part of the event story, but it would be cool to consider.

[jermer10]

For a fic request, Soldier slowly falls in love with the reader and constantly denies it because he feels like a strong American man shouldn't have butterflies in his stomach every time he sees a pretty person.

TF2 in the trenches | soldier x reader

gn reader | soldier is so awesome love that guy, sorry for the comically long wait time and enjoy mr artoatsblog and eris090 <3

drabbles under the cut :P

You had just joined the administration team as a fresh recruit, assigned to the role of Civilian - a object of protection. You weren't a fan of the title, nor the nature of your role. Having to be escorted across the map by whichever team had you that week, putting up with the fretting and the comments, as if you were a hassle more than an important part of your workplace. If the pay wasn't so good, you would have left on your first day. Most mercs not-so-secretly reveled in the idea of getting to play the hero, the RED Soldier, however, was more than happy to ignore you. An intimidating presence on the battlefield, barking orders and rarely engaging with anyone outside of his explosive rants. His helmet shadowed his face, making it even harder to connect with him on any personal level.

But still, something about him drew you in. Maybe it was his unwavering determination, or perhaps the way he threw himself into danger without hesitation. Whatever it was, you wanted to get to know the man behind the helmet. Your first few attempts to speak with Soldier didn’t go well. He wasn’t rude, but his responses were curt, clipped, and filled with military jargon you didn’t quite understand. “Sir! I just wanted to thank you for covering me on the battlefield earlier,” you said one day after a particularly rough mission. He stopped polishing his rocket launcher just long enough to give you a sideways glance. “IT WAS NOTHING, MAGGOT. JUST DOING MY PART TO FIGHT THIS WAR AGAINST THOSE COMMIE SISSIES!” He left all too quickly, rambling about something in the kitchen.

You nodded, feeling a little defeated. Every day, you tried a little harder to get through to him. You’d help him clean his gear, bring him his favorite rations, and even offer to spar with him during training. Yet, each interaction ended the same way - short, jargon filled responses and some quick reason to leave. The first time you managed to break down one of his walls was after a particularly shitty week. The team had lost, and everyone was exhausted. You found Soldier sitting alone outside, staring at the rain falling on the muddy battlefield. His usual brash energy was nowhere to be found. “You alright, Soldier?” you asked cautiously, approaching him. “You don’t usually sit still this long.”

He grunted but didn’t tell you to go away. Encouraged, you sat beside him. “I know today was tough,” you said gently. “But we’ll bounce back. We always do.” For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Lost too many good men in my time,” he said quietly, surprising you. “Can’t afford to lose any more. Not again.” The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. This was the first time he’d spoken to you like a person, not a recruit or a subordinate. You carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away.

He didn’t.

“We’re not going anywhere,” you reassured him softly. “You’ve got our backs, and we’ve got yours.” You understood his feelings of inadequacy. Soldier finally turned to face you, his eyes, usually so stern, softening just a little. You had no idea what Soldier's life was like before taking this job, the things he had seen, the things he had done. The mercs couldn't die, but you both knew he pushed them a little too hard sometimes. Finding someone to take their place in the family the team had built, well Soldier wouldn't admit it, but it would hurt. “You’re a strange one, recruit,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “But... you’ve got guts. More than I gave you credit for.” You smiled.

The next few days were different. Soldier still barked orders and rambled about war as per usual, but there was a subtle shift in how he interacted with you. He didn’t brush you off as quickly when you approached him, and every so often, he’d even seek you out himself, whether to talk strategy or simply share a meal in silence. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to notice - and enough for him to realize he was letting his guard down. That realization, of course, did not sit well with Soldier.

He found himself more aware of you whenever you were around. At first, it was just an occasional glance, a brief acknowledgment. But soon enough, it was much more than that. He noticed things about you he hadn’t before: the way you smiled when you talked, the way you styled you hair differently for every mission, and how, despite the constant chaos around you, you managed to stay calm and collected.

And that was the problem.

Soldier wasn’t supposed to notice those things. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything other than the drive to win the war and keep you safe as part of his duty. But now, every time you crossed his mind, there was that familiar, frustrating feeling - his stomach tightening, chest warming in a way that made him want to scream at himself. He refused to let it happen.

The next time he had approached you, it was after a flawless mission. You were sitting off some ledge somewhere, bottle of whisky in hand and a pleasant look on your face. He felt hot and awkward - he knew the next day you had to go over to the BLU's, and he hated knowing that he would have to try and kill you in order to prevent the enemies from winning. He also knew he had feelings for you - some not so 'professional workplace relationship' feelings, and trying to explain them to you of all people was so easy yet so hard.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already leaning down to sit. You smiled up at him. "Yeah, could do with some company." You passed the bottle between one another, taking swigs and cracking jokes, discussing the recent victory you had shared. After a few moments of silence, you noticed that Soldier kept sneaking glances at you from under his helmet, his jaw tight. You tilted your head, curious. “Is something bothering you?” He slammed the almost empty bottle onto the wooden planks of the flooring next to you, clearly frustrated with something - though it seemed like the frustration was directed more at himself than at you. “This- this isn’t right!” he finally snapped.

You blinked, startled by the outburst. “What isn’t right?”

“You!” Soldier pointed at you with a gloved finger, his voice rising. “You keep... getting in my head. I can’t focus! Every time I turn around, there you are, smiling and asking questions, making me think about - about things I shouldn’t be thinking about!” Your eyes widened as realization hit. “Soldier, wh- are you saying-?”

“No!” he interrupted, his voice gruff. “I’m not saying anything! I’m a soldier! I don’t have time for... whatever this is.” There it was. The vulnerability he had been fighting against for so long. He hated feeling weak, and these feelings, whatever they were, were making him feel weak. But now that it was out in the open, there was no taking it back. You were startled, confused, and feeling the same churning feeling in your chest and warmth spreading over your face that he was. “It’s okay to care about people, Soldier,” you said softly, your voice calm. “It doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it makes you stronger.”

For a long moment, Soldier didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his helmet. Then, finally, he let out a long, defeated sigh. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his words. “I don’t like... feeling like this.” You smiled, a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to like it. But you don’t have to fight it either.” Soldier processed your words, chewing at his bottom lip. Then, with another resigned grunt, he nodded. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “But don’t think this means I’m going soft, maggot.”

You laughed softly. “I wouldn’t dare.”

And for the first time, Soldier didn’t try to deny what was happening between the two of you. He might not have fully understood it yet, but he was no longer running from it either.