#she's rambling about her sock collection

[arimabari]

me and the party pony I pulled by being autistic

[cutmyheadoffplease]

«Justice of those pure of heart»

ADA x reader hcs because why not?

WARNINGS! : Dazai being Dazai, mentions of alcohol and war in Yosano's part

FEAT! : Atsushi; Dazai; Kunikida; Yosano x gn!reader

➜ Atsushi Nakajima ᗢ

ᗢ He asks Yosano for advice; it doesn’t matter. Presents? Yosano has to say they fit the occasion. A nice day in a park? Yosano makes Atsushi check the weather forecast. She saved dates.

ᗢ Atsushi would buy plushies as gifts. He started doing it after he saw how much joy they brought to Kyoka and they became his go-to gifts for everyone.

ᗢ Atsushi’s ability lets him turn into a tiger, tigers are felines, felines sleep for about 16 hours a day. Therefore, Atsushi too sleeps for 16 hours (and has a tiny kitty plushie he got from Kyoka <3)

ᗢ Atsushi once scratched you. It was an accident. It didn’t even hurt. But this chazuke loving boy cried for half an hour because he ‘hurt’ you.

ᗢ You once took him to the Zoo. He started rambling about chameleons. He just loves them. His love for them can be explained in two ways: 1. He wants to blend into the background like them, so that he can forget what he’s been through, so he can be like everyone. 2. They're just cool.

➜ Osamu Dazai 𓍯

𓍯 Jokes that he would love to commit suicide with you, but I feel like he’d stop you say you’re uncomfortable… maybe brings you some flowers, to Yosano’s recommendation, he bought with the money he “borrowed” from Kunikida as an apology.

𓍯 Has a small crab plushie Atsushi and Kyoka gave him and used it to pinch your cheeks or places it on your head when he’s bored.

𓍯 Do NOT fall asleep near him, unless you want to be turn into a bandage mummy, because personal space is not a concep in Dazai’s vocabulary… at all….

𓍯 You cannot look at this man and tell me he wouldn’t blow in your ear to annoy you, Kunkida and/or Chuuya.

𓍯 Dazai may have on this goofy and careless personality, but the one time he was actually sad and brought to tears was when he told you about Oda. poor Oda

➜Doppo Kunikida ✎

✎ Kunikida had a hamster as a kid. He started liking math because he would count the amount of seeds it ate every day.

✎ Kunikida on the note of his math teacher past, he gave Kenji math homework once, but had to explain it with cows.

✎ Kunikida gets mad if you aren’t organized, he’ll tidy up of course, but not without commenting and giving you sour looks.

✎ Once asked Yosano for advice on what to wear to a date and ended up with a wardrobe full of clothes. He’ll never do it again.

✎ Kunikida is almost blind without his glasses, he once tried to hug you without them and ended up hugging a door.

➜ Akiko Yosano 𓌏

𓌏 Watches M*A*S*H* every chance she gets as a way to cope with her childhood. Please watch it with her. It’s an amazing show. The show screams Yosano. (I feel like her favorite would be Colonel Potter. He’s 100% the guy she would have wanted to work under. she cried during the last episode, not wanting the show she resonated so much with to end.)

𓌏 Yosano sleeps with her socks on and has an unholy big collection of them, most of them have Japanese sweets on them or random stuff she bought with Kyoka or Naomi.

𓌏 Drunkenly confessed what happened during the war once. She spat out everything. The pain drowned in liquor, everything now just a foggy memory of abuse and injustice. She took the hair pin off that day.

𓌏 Yosano took you shopping, Kyoka tags along, of course you had to pay for everything. And if you didn’t I’ll pay for Yosano and Kyoka happily . Before you know it it’s already late, the bag is full of random stuff, like scented candles and even more socks.

𓌏 Yosano reads romance. A lot of it. She became the ADA’s romance counselor. So you better be good at preparing dates or she’ll pout a little.

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆Yay~ Thank you for getting till the very end~ A part two will come with the other ADA members.ᐟ𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆

[wintfleur]

𓈒  ୭ৎ   ˖˙  ᰋ  ── ALRIGHTY APHRODITE

aka gwen's profile

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #📷 ͡ ꒱ GwenCaufield

ꪆ୧ BASICS ! 

name: Gwendolyn Caufield 

nicknames:

gwen (everyone)

wendy (luke)

winnie (juraj)

winnie the pooh (cole) 

lyn (parents) 

dolly (jack, trevor and alex) 

birthday and zodiac: october 31st 2004, scorpio 

location:

mosinee, wisconsin (former)

montreal, quebec (currently) 

ꪆ୧ ABOUT ! 

personality: gwen is more on the quiet side in general, more reserved and calmer, especially around new people. But when she gets more comfortable, she's a lot like Cole, can be a little loud, playful, silly, teasing and sarcastic. She’s a really sweet girl but she's just not as expressive as others. She’s really good at keeping in her emotions, so it's rare to really see her angry. She has an infectious laugh and is honestly quite the nerd. She enjoys spending time with her friends and family but likes to be alone as well. She's an introvert. 

good traits: hard-working, passionate, trustful and reliable, a good listener, warm-hearted 

bad traits: her determination can turn into stubbornness, brutally honest, scared of commitment in relationships, 

quirks: lip biting, being fidgety, doodling on anything, getting lost in her thoughts, rambling when she's nervous 

likes: photography, horror movies, drawing, thunderstorms, reading, anything autumn, chapstick, jeans, halloween obviously, steve harrington, the canucks, music, the cinema, napping, sweaters, lockets, smiski’s, lollipops, her guitars 

dislikes: hot weather, driving, fireworks, the smell of grapefruit, wearing socks in bed, stand up comedy, doing the dishes, being compared to her brothers, rude fans, sad juraj, 

hobbies: drawing, pottery, journaling, scrapbooking, ballet, singing, playing the guitar and piano 

fears: heights, dying alone, being stuck in tight spaces, loud noises 

strengths: creative, attention to detail, determined, organized 

weaknesses: talking about her feelings, self critical, perfectionism, 

languages spoken: english (fluent) french (70%) slovak (20%) 

occupation/profession: photographer for the montreal canadiens nhl team  

ꪆ୧ RELATIONSHIPS ! 

parents:

paul caufield 

kelly caufield 

sibling(s): 

brock caufield 

cole caufield 

best friends: luke hughes, arber xhekaj, lily dao, mark estapa 

friends: kaiden guhle, the rest of the habs team, trevor zegras, jack hughes, quinn hughes, alex turcotte, tate mcrae + more 

love interest: juraj slafkovský

pet(s): none at the moment but she really wants a cat 

ꪆ୧ MORE ! 

outfits: gwen’s closet mostly has a lot of darker shades but she will wear any color really. She loves wearing jeans, fishnets/different patterned tights, short skirts, leather jackets, corset/vests, hoodies etc. She loves thrift shopping so she has a large range of different clothes, for shoes she mostly wears boots, sneakers etc. Link to her closet is right here. 

accessories: she mostly accessories with her large collection of sunglasses and bags, With her larger/medium bags she likes adding small addons to them, pins, sonny angel/smiski/ keychains, small plushie keychains, photocard holder keychains ect. With her small bags she likes tying ribbon boys to them and her sonny angel/smiski keychains. She will occasionally wear a fake pair of glasses, just to add something different to her outfit. For headwear she mostly wears earmuffs, headbands and beanies. Will sometimes wear scarfs, but really her accessories really just depend on the outfit she's wearing. 

jewelry: she's a big fan of necklaces and rings. For necklaces she loves lockets, she owns many. But the one she wears the most is the one Juraj got her. For rings she wears multiple at a time, mostly four and she's always changing them out. She’s always changing out her earrings and belly button and nose piercing, she likes having something new every once in a while, she gets bored with the same things. 

makeup: gwen doesn't really use a lot of makeup, mostly just her eyelashes, eyeliner, a little bit of eyeshadow and some blush and her lips. she will sometimes wear some highlighter on her nose, cheeks and in the corner of her eyes but not often. 

scars: has a few scars on her feet from the years of her doing ballet, but none othem are really that noticeable. 

sexuality: bisexual 

height: 5’5 

piercing(s): her bellybutton, two in each ear, nose 

tattoo(s): her chest, lower back (wants more) 

face claim: ugh_liza 

ꪆ୧ FAVORITES ! 

food(s): cereal, pasta, muffins, pomegranates, cherries, tomato soup, frozen yogurt, honey 

drink(s): hot chocolate, dr pepper, hot and cold tea, water 

color(s): black, reds, oranges, greens, browns 

animal(s): bears, bunnies, bats 

season(s): autumn, winter 

bands and artist: fleetwood mac, wallows, the smiths, florence + the machine, lana del rey, hozier, the strokes, paramore, avril lavigne 

show(s): supernatural, stranger things, survivor, gilmore girls, american horror story, 

movie(s): hocus pocus, halloweentown series, scream series, halloween series, the fear street series, the amazing spider man series 

person: her boyfriend juraj and her platonic soulmate luke hughes 

ꪆ୧ FUN FACTS ! 

Gwen’s Nickname from Cole is WInne the Pooh, she absolutely loves anything honey and bears!

She can play the piano and guitar

She was six when she received her first camera, it was a digital one that she got for her birthday and she never let it out of her sight.

Over the years, her parents noticed that her love for photography only got stronger, and the fact that she was really good helped with them deciding on buying her a canon.

Gwen was part of the newspaper for her school, taking pictures and helping write articles.

Gwen did ballet since she was a little girl, only stopping when she was 17 so she could focus more on photography.

Gwen was always the teachers favorite, something her brothers loved to tease her about

She was going to join luke at umich, but decided against it when she got a job offer in montreal

Her best friend is Luke Hughes, they are inseparable.

Her favorite holiday is Halloween, and it's only right since it's also her birthday!

She's very serious about Halloween, loving to dress up, watching horror movies, eating tons of candy, and pumpkin carving.

She loves watching old horror movies, she's a big nerd about it !!

When she gets overwhelmed she becomes very quiet and a little clingy.

She doesn't go anywhere without her headphones, music is her escape.

Quinn bought her a skateboard for her 16th birthday and she almost cried, she loves it so much!

She has a great relationship with the habs team, they all think of her as a little sister . . . besides Juraj of course.

Cole is her safeplace, she knows that no matter what, her big brother has her back!

Gwen's bisexual awakening was thorn from the hex girls! And taylor momsen

She has such a loud and contagious laugh that you can't help but join in.

She's very popular amongst the fans, and she has no clue why, she likes to keep to herself.

She has 3 million followers on TikTok, and Jack and Trevor like to tease her about her being a content creator, she refuses to call herself that.

Poor girl gets teased by Trevor and Jack a lot, but they do love her! She's their little sister they never asked for.

Out of all of Cole's teammates, she would say she's the closest to arber (besides juraj) they have a great friendship! If she's not sitting next to juraj on the plaine she's sitting next to him.

The love of her life is Steve Harrington . . .

Will forever be upset that she couldn't have her teenage years in the 2000’s

She has a wonderful voice but she's only comfortable singing in front of a few people!

She writes her own songs, but they are hidden in one of her journals.

She wants to get more tattoos but she's scared to give cole and brock another heart attack

a big resident evil girly

Has an internal debate everyday in her head if she should dye her hair, she's never done it!

As the youngest sibling, she's overly protected, by like everyone . . .

She's very soft tempered

She lives with Cole, and her room is her favorite place to be!

She loves going on walks

Gwen has trouble making friends, that's why she's so grateful to have luke in her life, he's really helped her get out of her shell and introduce her to his friends.

She loves art, she's excellent at drawing and painting, mostly with watercolors.

Her favorite flowers are tulips.

Juraj is her first boyfriend, she's only dated one other person besides him and that was her first girlfriend luna.

They dated for 2 years, but Gwen broke up with her in Their senior year when she found out that luna was cheating on her,

Poor Gwen was heartbroken after that, and became very distant from the thought of loving another.

Her baby is her record player, and every year Luke and Cole buy her a new record for her birthday.

Her favorite band is Paramore and she's been to 6 concerts!

She has a collection of a ton of different cameras she's gotten over the years!

She can be very sarcastic when she wants to, mostly when she's really tired or when Jack talks too much . . . so always.

Had the biggest and i mean biggest crush on quinn hughes, the only one who knows about it is luke and he loves to tease her about it.

She's the passenger princess . . . she cried during her drivers test, she hates driving.

Always has a book in her bag.

When she gets shy, her face and ears get all red

she’s secretly such a romantic

She’s a big cuddler

Secretly such a yapper omg

Gwen has two instagrams, her public one is @/gwendolyn_caufield and her private one is @/winnethepoohbear

Gwen is a sweet girl who's just more on the quiet side, she's fiercely loyal to the people she loves, and is just a great person to be around!

ꪆ୧ HER ROOM AESTHETIC ! 

ꪆ୧ HER CLOTHES AESTHETIC ! 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( Gwen my love 🫶🏻 I’m actually in love with her , and I really hope you guys grow to love her as well !! Please feel free to send in as many asks as you want , and please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie )

©️WINTFLEUR

[yanmuffins]

also, another thing (yes, i'm trying to procastinate again and then making u bear with me rambling) I love to draw reader wearing alternative clothing, or sometimes, just some tomboyish, lil' punk inspired style

idk, I feel like it gives some more life at them or smth

we both know that I usually prefer to draw the reader fem, but If i, someday, decide to draw them male or just gn, I think I would still insist in something different from the usual

idk, for male I would probably draw them in more fem styled clothing, throw some pink around and poke at skirts and maybe some dresses-shirts, If i feel daring (which I prob would, y'know, with the whole male-reader-drawing thingy)

for gn, I would probably just draw them in mandrake male, firstly because the style is comfortable, both to draw and to wear, and secondly because it is a subculture of the country where I live, which makes me more happy to draw it

can I be so for real right now? I do not see vampire!reader wardrobe staying the same doll, rich girl, homeschooled, butler loving thing forever

yeah, I could still see them envolving into goth, maybe romantic goth while we're at It, but wouldn't It just be funnier If It didn't?

so, after the vampirification, what if the reader start wearing smth really different from the batfam?

like, gyaru, punk (but REAL punk, with with pointy hair and various piercings), or fem mandrake, but with the crazy male mandrake hair with these neon drawing at the scalp that glow in the dark

yeah, it's a big leap, but it's a fun one too

(or maybe vamp!reader could put some sexy leather too, idc, I just want to give the batfam a headache! 😉👍)

thanks for reading my rambling, I must go back to hating to draw Damian (←😒) right now 😔💔

girl we’re from the same country (≧◡≦) ♡

i want to ramble and prattle about this so hard and give it a super long answer but!!! SPOILERS for my upcoming post on vampire! reader’s fashion i’m afraid.

vampire! reader's overall style holds a place dear to my hear, and is also relevant to the fic!

i'm not gonna lie, i envision vampire! reader to be more on the hyperfeminine side of things. pre-vampire-embrace she already wore exclusively black (with pops of white), shades of grey and a daring burgundy here and there, and i decided on those colors mostly to match her somber/modest/elegant choices when it comes to clothing and to match the wayne and, overall, just gotham's aesthetic. even as vampire! reader grows out of her dolly-like clothes, she was pretty much raised on designer and that's pretty much what she wears and will continue to wear. as in, new dior spring/summer collection just dropped? gotham's local store already has it ready for her to pick up. it comes naturally to her, it's just how alfred/bruce (mostly alfred) raised her.

also, spoiler: she feels like dressing on old-timey, vintage outfits makes her feel closer to her grandma. this also thanks to alfred's influence, who gave her access to martha wayne's wardrobe. she does enjoy wearing her grandma's old clothes. not the pearls, though.

considering her clan (👀), it's very fitting.

however!!!

i do find the idea of an alternative vampire! reader very interesting and fun to play around with, giving her (or him. or them) different personalities, reactions and upbringings which will lead her to be more suitable to different vampire clans. stereotypical, yeah, but a punk or cybergoth vampire! reader would make a great brujah or gangrel. gyaru or lolita! vampire reader could be a toreador or a malkavian. she grows out of her frilly socks and petitcoats and really finds herself in alternative styles.

now with our current vampire! reader's style transition, i'll save that for that one (amazing) ask to really yap about that.

and honestly? i don't believe the clothes themselves would really make the batfam scream cry and throw up (with the exception of alfred, but he'll get over it). it might make bruce and dick side-eye her a bit, but jason would find vampire! reader's mandrake/punk hair awesome. steph would be in love with gyaru/lolita vampire! reader's outfits.

unless we're talking about sexier outfits, like you said, leather and such. which i won't expand upon here, but that would surely make them uncomfortable.

but, much like our og vampire! reader, what really bothers them is the change in attitude, in company, in behavior. she was so quiet and demure before, going out during business hours and mostly coming home before it got dark, or at least sticking strictly to curfew. she barely had any friends. but suddenly she's hanging out with some person she met who knows where, frequenting nightclubs and coming home close to dawn? acting distant and avoidant towards her family (who didn't really pay her much mind but that's irrelevant)? now that grinds their gears.

but if we want to get away from that hyperfeminity post-embrace, i can see og! vampire! reader gravitating towards something like this:

[stellastra-scribbles]

Finally completed the outfit reference for Jayna Stiles, a half-elven NPC follower from Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura.

Outfit breakdown (or "outfit onions" as I like to call them lol~)

I really like Jayna Stiles and her backstory + goals of becoming a technological healer. I'm also a sucker for 19th-century fashion and I have an unhealthily large collection of reference books and a bunch of files saved from online museum collections (I've got about 22+ gigabytes of refs downloaded from the Library of Congress alone haha I need more hobbies).

Back on track, I really just wanted to design Jayna an outfit that suited her character more than her in-game sprites while also being practical for travel/adventuring.

More unrestrained detailed design ramblings below the cut~

Individual layers. I pulled most of her colors from her default outfit.

Since Arcanum's starting year is 1885, I usually picture the "modern" sense of fashion in big cities like Tarant and Caladon taking cues from real life 1885-1890s western fashions (to give myself some leeway with references). Smaller towns can be a bit more dated, but I try not to go back further than the 1870s in most cases.

However, for a character like Jayna, who hails from Dernholm, I gave her clothing from references dating back to the 1850-1860s. I did this because Jayna says in her recruitment dialogue that "[her] parents weren't wealthy people, and [she doesn't] make much money here in Dernholm," so I took this to mean that she likely wears clothing to last, wearing hand-me-downs, makes her own clothes, and mending it over the years rather than buying new clothes.

Given that Dernholm (+ the Kingdom of Cumbria in general) isn't in the best state when the game starts, they may be behind the times and the latest fashions take longer to reach Dernholm.

Gar: “Alas, poor Dernholm! Once home to the legendary Dragon Knights, it has fallen on hard times since Praetor became king some 60 odd years ago. He despises all technology, and I think he's recently become sour on magick as well.”

Herkemer Oggdoddler: “For two generations Cumbria languished as an economically abused and technologically impaired backwater in the shadow of Tarant. Its once fine capital, Dernholm, has become a ruin.”

Layer 1 - Chemise + Open Drawers. I deliberately drew the drawers as fairly loose so as to not expose her without having to redraw the pose or resort to "Barbie doll anatomy."

Various resources demonstrated the chemise being tucked into the drawers or worn fully untucked/loose, but I drew it as tucked-in for the sake of reference visibility, so perhaps either one works in practice.

Layer 2 - Corset + Socks/Stockings. I picked a more "contemporary" (1880s) design for the corset as I imagine it would be a more custom-fitted garment. Plus, anyone who has ever worn bras will attest that a bra that properly fits is comparable to a good pair of shoes: never cheap out on it because if you take care of it, it will take care of you. Perhaps that same logic can be applied to corsets in ye olden days and historically-inspired fantasy settings.

For Jayna, despite the simplistic design, it might be one of the few luxuries she can afford for herself given the necessity of the garment for bust support.

Layer 3 - Trousers + Shoes. I was inspired by vivandières and Dr. Mary Edwards Walker, who typically wore trousers beneath their skirts. Dr. Walker was a "surgeon, women’s rights advocate, abolitionist, and spy, [and] the first female U.S. Army surgeon during the Civil War." Since Jayna is an aspiring technological healer, I feel like an allusion to Dr. Walker and her practicality was appropriate.

Layer 4 - Petticoat. It's just something to fill out the skirt volume a tad. I considered adding a corset cover in this layer but I did like having the upper outline of the corset somewhat visible in the shirtwaist layer to illustrate her living situation (aka she doesn't have one or just has a poor-quality one). As a modern-age woman, I think this this all already looks like a laundering nightmare to wash by hand.

Layer 5 - Shirtwaist + Outer Skirt. I really like the shape of the 1860s Garibaldi blouse's sleeves (I think these are bishop sleeves? correct me if I'm wrong...) and the stripes allude to some 19th century nurse uniforms. I initially went for a plaid pattern but that was a pain to draw and using a pre-existing plaid brush/pattern just didn't look as good as I wanted it to be.

Layer 6 - Sash + Pistol Holster + Bag. Given Jayna's goals of becoming a tech healer, I took design cues from vivandières, who were 19th-century women attached to military regiments, with a few known vivandières being nurses (like Anna Etheridge).

However, rather than lifting the vivandière look completely, I imagine Jayna would attempt to replicate the silhouette with her own clothes. The bag is a bit of an amalgamation of various 18th-19th century hunting/frontier bags, so I apologize that I don't have a direct reference image.

---------------

Of course, in the end, I did take some liberties with the outfit so it's not completely historically-accurate, but that's okay since Arcanum is a fictional universe.

I guess I should've prefaced that I'm no expert on historical fashion, just a casual enthusiast who thinks "ooh old dress is pretty!"

I just wanted to see how far I could go before I had to make some concessions, such as:

Jayna's hair is short and worn loose while irl Victorian women typically had long hair and wore them up (there were documented exceptions of course). Many portraits for both female player characters and female NPCs across all in-game races show short hair and loose long hair, so let's just assume that 19th-century Arcanum has more relaxed feminine hair standards compared to the real-life 19th century western world. Also, irl 19th-century rural women did sell their hair for money, so maybe there's something to apply to the world of Arcanum with that. Or maybe the short-hair craze just hit Arcanum a few decades early *shrug*.

I initially planned to give her gloves, but many resources show vivandières not really wearing them, preferring to go barehanded.

The clothing colors may be a bit too saturated for the era I took inspiration from, but I wanted to stay somewhat faithful to Jayna's original sprite colors.

I did simplify some garments down for the sake of me having to draw enough layers as it is lol. Sorry if the lace wasn't fancy enough or that she doesn't have headwear. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sometimes you just wanna finish a project and be done with it.

hoo boy, that was a lot

Thank You For Coming to My TED Talk :)

Now go play Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura~

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: SMUT!! MDNI or if you're uncomfortable! Profanity!! Swearing!! Ferran and Martin (based on the reactions I think they deserve their own warning)!!

Word Count: 11.2K (fun fact! If you've read the whole story, you've read 46 pages!)

A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, BUT THERE'S A LOT I WANTED TO INCLUDE IN THIS PART (AS YOU CAN TELL BY THE WORD COUNT)

[Incoming Facetime call from: Gavi]

"Gavi, you're going to have to learn to live without seeing my face 24/7. I don't want you experiencing withdrawal symptoms while I sleep."

"I just had a question about- is that a jar of pickles?"

"Yes. I felt like having a snack."

"You're disgusting."

"Listen, I brought several things back from university life in America, and a pickle addiction was one of them. Let me have little joys in life. What did you call me for? Besides to shame me for my midnight guilty pleasures?"

This was the 7th time in two weeks that Gavi had Facetimed you at odd hours. After your little heart-to-heart while drunk in the club, and him covering for you at work the next morning, he caved into the impulsive thoughts and called you, wanting to make sure you were okay.

"Gavi it's 10pm. If you want me to help you hide a body, call me during working hours."

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding at the sound of your voice. You were okay. Like actually okay. All of the distress in your voice, the shakiness, the panic - it had all disappeared. You were back to your cool self, and it filled him with a warm and gooey sense of relief. He kept you on the phone for about 10 minutes before his internal monologue told him it was enough, and he went to bed with a strange tightness in his chest.

For the first three weeks, it had been strictly texts and phone calls. Gavi was still sending you his daily little updates, some relevant, most not.

[Gavi]: Compression socks are really tight on my shins. Feels like they're cutting off my blood flow.

[Gavi]: pedri keeps telling me to eat bananas to help with my back cramps. Fact or cap?

[Gavi]: saw someone on tiktok make a Joao Felix thirst trap. Anything you want to confess?

This texting remained constant, and then he supplemented with phone calls. After the check-up call, he had to find new excuses to call you. He started scheduling his early-morning sessions over the phone instead of over text, asking about your life in the meantime. He started "forgetting" things in your office, calling to tell you he would be there before practice to pick them up. It hadn't annoyed you, per se, but confused you. Why was Gavi so comfortable calling you and just talking about random things on the phone? Initially, you had joked with him to stop calling you so frequently.

"Gavi, personal number. Personal. You should keep all work related stuff to emails only. I don't get paid to listen to you ramble about Game of Thrones."

"I know you well enough by now to know that if you didn't want to hear my voice, you would hang up."

He wasn't exactly wrong. You were not one to shy away from hanging up in someone's face if you were irritated (you had done it to Ferran the one time he called you from Gavi's phone). You also didn't really have anyone else to talk to. Angelika, despite acting unemployed, worked for a design house in the city, and her designs had been approved as part of the new line. She now spent every waking moment working on the spring/summer collection that needed to be shown in February. She had even stopped bugging you to go to the club. The only times you heard from her were when she sent "Hey I'm alive just busy" texts, or on the weekends when she begged you to drive her to the far fabric stores. There weren't many other people that you wanted to talk to. Your friends in the US were several hours behind. Your friends in Barcelona were kind of exhausting, and not who you wanted to hear from after a long day of work. And Martin?

Martin was ... interesting. You definitely liked being with him in person. Your dinners were romantic. Martin always picked you up and took you to the nicest restaurant, allowing you to order the expensive plates that would actually make you full. He always complimented your dress and your eyes and the way you looked despite having a long day at work. He was a theoretical great boyfriend. You liked going out with him every 3-4 days. You liked getting good morning and good night texts and the hot pre-game selfies whenever you checked your phone between shifts at work. But in those late nights when you were bored and lonely, and your TV shows were all boring you, Martin was not the first person you thought of calling.

While he was great over dinner, he wasn't the most entertaining or comforting presence. He had a habit of downplaying a lot of the things you were feeling or going through.

"Baby, people make sexual comments all the time. Just look at how people on Twitter talk about the players. You should be more flattered than anything that he complimented your ass."

That was the last time you ever called him after a long and tiring day of work. Your text messages were filled with only pleasant conversations. A good goal he scored in practice. Praise you received from the rest of the medical staff for your progress. Never your frustration with your job or your life or the sad boring things that regular, not famous not football players went through.

"It's like 7pm this is not a midnight snack."

The sound of Gavi's voice brought you back from your abstract thoughts. You looked at his face lit up on the screen. His hair was a little wild and still slightly damp from his shower. He was in a white t-shirt that hugged his shoulders. He placed his phone down so that he could show you his complaint.

"Remember how we were talking about my knee and thigh tightness? I've been trying to work out the muscle for a while but it's not helping."

He moved back from the camera, letting his black gym shorts and legs come in to the frame. He lifted his left short leg, showing off the pronounced muscles in his thigh. You brought the phone a little closer to your face, focusing on his leg. He flexed the muscle, and you swallowed hard. You had seen some of the best legs in football laying in front of you - so why was Gavi's slightly blurry form on FaceTime overwhelming you?

"Have you been doing the routine I gave you to improve blood flow? It looks like you haven't."

"It's hard to do! I tried multiple times and I'm just in pain every time. We just have a match tomorrow and like it's kind of uncomfortable. It's fine I can just play through it if you don't have any other recommendations."

This made you sit up. If there was one thing that would get both of you in deep shit, it was Gavi playing through a known and documented discomfort.

"You're not going to do that. If you get injured during the match then I-"

"Awe doctora, you're concerned about me getting injured?"

He got up close to the camera, smiling cheekily and feigning shyness. You rolled your eyes.

"If you get injured in the match I will get in trouble because your muscle tightness is in your file. So you have two options: do the blood flow massage I told you to, or I need to email Xavi now and tell him you should be playing a maximum of 60 minutes in tomorrow's match."

This statement made Gavi sober up, looking instantly more serious.

"We're not telling Mister Xavi anything. I actually don't know how to do the blood flow stuff without feeling like I'm peeling off my own skin."

"Would it kill you not to play all 90 minutes tomorrow?"

"Yes." There was not one indication, neither in his tone or on his face, that he was kidding. Gavi's love for football was evident, but it was deeper than most people saw. Barca wasn't just his club - it was the air he breathed, the blood in his veins. It was his family, his brotherhood since he was a child. It was the greatest love he had ever experienced, and he was honestly willing to lay his life down if it meant making Mister and the boys proud. He would die for this club.

"You know what doctora? You can just do it for me tomorrow morning before the match."

"You can't play right after we literally batter your muscles to increase blood flow. You have to do it within the next few hours to have enough time to rest. I wish you told me this morning, I could have..." Your sentence trailed as you looked at your front door. Your car keys were sitting in the dish. You had been thinking about going out to get some dinner, too tired to wait for chicken to defrost.

"Hello? Can you focus on the crisis at hand instead of daydreaming?"

"What if I came over and did it for you now?"

Gavi's eyes got wide and he stared at his screen. He was trying to process the information that had just slithered into his brain. You? At his house? At night? Alone???

"Wait." He said, and then hung up the call. You looked at your screen in confusion.

He stabilized his hands enough to find the contact.

*Calling: ~banana king pepi~ *

"Pick up pick up pick up pick up-"

"Hello?"

"Help. Me."

Pedri paused his game, much to the dismay of his brother, who was about to score a virtual goal.

"Pablo I know you didn't go to regular school, but you should know that in an emergency you should call the police."

"Y/n asked to come to my house."

Pedri bit back a laugh, removing the controller from his lap and putting the call on speaker so Fernando could be a part of the drama.

"You finally confessed that you're in love with her and want to kick her boyfriend's teeth in?"

"I'm not in love with her, we're just friends. That second part you might be right about." Gavi summarized your reasons for coming over quickly, asking Pedri for some sage advice while he and Fer raised their eyebrows at each other in amusement.

"As long as you have condoms, invite her over Hermano."

"I don't like her like that."

"Then why are you nervous about her coming to your place?" That was a good question. He didn't know why the idea of seeing you outside of work put all his internal systems on high alert, but it did. His hands were sweating at the prospect of opening the door and seeing you standing there in something other than scrubs.

"I'm not. I'm just going to tell her to come over. No need to make a big deal about it."

"Have fun Pablito." Fernando chimed in. Gavi scoffed and hung up. He called you once again.

"Where did you go?"

"Pedri called me to make sure we were going to the stadium together tomorrow. So, are you going to come here?"

"You never gave me an address. Or a yes for that matter." You laughed out. Your heart beat began to pick up. Did Gavi not want you at his place? Did he have another girl there? 'Why would he be calling you if another girl was there?' I don't know, brain, men are weird.

"Oh. Yeah. Yes. To coming over. I want you to. I'll text you the address right now." Something in your chest tightened at this statement. Your phone dinged, and you looked at the address Gavi had sent you.

"Cool. I'll be there in 20."

The drive to Gavi's place was calm. Old One Direction played over your car's aging speakers. The chilly night air came through the rolled down windows, winter finally making its first appearances in the middle of November. As you got closer to your destination, the surroundings started to look familiar.

Gavi was looking at the street from the window of his bedroom. In his La Masia shirt and black shorts, he had perched for all 18 minutes that it took you to drive over, right after he tidied the house. He didn't want you to think he was a teenage slob. If Gavi really thought about it, he would have admitted: all he wanted was for you to respect him - see him as a man. Someone put together and capable.

You parked at the bottom of his building, texting that you had arrived. He tried not to, but he ran down the whole staircase, swinging the door open before you had gotten out of the car.

"Hey. You know you live like walking distance from Martin?" You said, approaching the front door. Gavi's face soured at this news. He was never subtle about his distaste for Martin. After that night at the club, he had made it very obvious that he thought you should break up with Martin, or at least give him a stern talking to for leaving you to stumble around drunk and alone - especially since he was the one forcing drinks on you.

"Wonderful. I'll make sure to go and give him a nice neighborly gift."

"Like what? A black eye?"

"I was just thinking of pissing in his bushes but now that you mention it I really do think "bruised" is a good look on him..." He lifted his hand to his chin to look like he was thinking. You shoved him off balance, walking towards the door.

"Lets go, Gavi. I get cranky if I don't get all my beauty sleep."

He walked into the house first, holding the door open for you. You were honestly impressed: the place did not look like a teenager's house. The bottom floor was a spacious living room and dining room, with the kitchen connected by a low wall. The tan walls had vintage Barca and Spain National Team posters hung on them. There was a large TV mounted on the wall, a PS5 placed on the shelf beneath it, a pile of games stacked high. His couch was a long L shape. black leather wrapping around a black coffee table.

"You have a Barca coffee table book?" You asked, giggling slightly as you picked up the massive picture book.

"I've been with the club since I was like 11. Everything I own I have it in Barca colors."

You looked over at the stairs and the soft glow from the top of them. Something in you was dying to know what Gavi's bedroom looked like. How many hoodies he owned, what color his sheets were, how many pillows he slept on...

You shook yourself from this line of thinking. Despite the two of you getting closer and friendlier, Gavi was still technically just your coworker. You shouldn't want to know all these things about him.

"Ok where is the stone I gave you?" You put your hand out expectantly, and he dropped the black massage gua sha in it. Gavi moved to lay on the couch, mimicking what he would do in your office.

"Before you sit down, what have you been using as lubricant?"

He snapped his head at you, cheeks and the tips of his ears turning pink.

"I, I, um, lub- why do you need to know what kind of lubricant I use? That's a really personal question?"

You stared at him in confusion, wondering why he had gotten shy and stuttery at the question.

"So I can use that lubricant on you now?" He stood up, swallowing hard. He took several deep breaths before saying:

"y/n, I didn't invite you here to do anything sexual. If this is a joke that Pedri asked you to play it's-"

"Pablo you brainless bitch. I meant what have you been using as massage lubricant, because you're not supposed to scrape the stone across your dry skin."

You both stared at each other for a long moment. You had one brow raised, smirk playing on your lips. You were holding back a laugh at the thought: Gavi was thinking you wanted to know what he used to jerk off. Or sleep with someone. That second thought made you slightly nauseous. Gavi's eyes were wide, his mouth still open in shock. You had the courage to speak first.

"I see that the reason you have been feeling pain is because you have been giving yourself microabruises. Go get some oil or lotion so I can do this for you, and I expect my gas money in full tomorrow on my desk."

"Can you, uh, turn around?"

"Why?"

"I don't... I don't want you seeing where I got the lotion from."

"See now Pablo, if you had just gone upstairs, I would have thought it was from the cabinet or the bathroom. But since you've made it weird, you've confirmed that it's from your bedside table. Just go before you make this situation more sexually awkward."

“No but I-“

You held up one finger to your lips to silence him, then pointed in the direction of the stairs. He shuffled past you awkwardly and then took off, taking the stairs two at a time. You laughed to yourself. It was always funny seeing glimpses of innocence and youth in Gavi, especially since he was always pushing himself to act older and more mature.

Pablo was not having a good time. He ran to his bathroom to splash cold water on his now violently blushing face. He thought you would be able to see the mess of clothes in his bedroom if he opened the door. Now the conversation had shifted into an oddly sexual realm, and he didn’t know how to deal. The idea of sex didn’t usually embarrass him - it bothered him when the guys would talk about nothing else, but he thought he had finally reached a level of maturity where he could say “pussy” and not giggle. So why was he so damn shy right now? Why was he embarrassed to his core that you had mentioned him jerking off?

Pablo would describe his masturbatory habits as efficient. Once he and his teammates at La Masía turned 14, the medical staff had all sat them down for “the talk”. Obviously there was the parental stuff about safe sex and all that, but from a sports aspect he knew: sexual frustration is bad for performance. So a couple nights a week he would rub one out hoping to ensure optimal performance. Lately, however, he has lessened his “alone time” significantly. Since Ferran had shown him that picture of you, since he started daydreaming about holding your hand, the feel of your skin, he was borderline afraid to jerk off. He didn’t want to see your face. Coming to terms with the fact that he liked your company was already too overwhelming. Pablo was convinced this was a waiting game: you were just new and exciting. Eventually he would see another picture of another girl, and you would go back to “that one girl physio”, and he could jerk in peace.

He came back downstairs, sheepishly handing you a tube of lotion, and then quickly laying on the couch, hoping to avoid your line of sight.

“Lotion for Men? Gavi, you know that your skin won’t melt off it the product doesn’t say ‘for men’ right?”

“We had a media intern last year that saw a tube of strawberry chapstick in my bag, and she sent the picture to 3 or 4 gossip instagram pages, saying ‘look! Stuff for women! Gavi has a girlfriend!’ So now I only use stuff that can’t be mistaken as something for my nonexistent girlfriend.”

“What if they think you have a boyfriend instead?”

“That might be ideal actually. Then maybe I could go home without being mobbed.”

You smiled at Gavi, who was now more relaxed and far less red. His arms were crossed behind his head, legs stretched out and shorts rolled up slightly so you could access the upper parts of his thighs. You placed some lotion on his legs and began rubbing it in.

“Wow. Does the rest of the team know you offer private massage services?” He asked, resting his head and looking up at the ceiling.

“Obviously not. You think Ferran would ever leave me alone if he knew this was an option?”

Gavi laughed loudly at this. Watching you reject and diss Ferran on an almost daily basis was the highlight of training. Sometimes your responses were so creative that he would run to write them down before the end of the break. His personal favorite was when Ferran asked when you two were finally going to go on a date, and you replied with ‘After my lobotomy next week so my brain is immune to mind numbing conversation with you’.

But as he looked down at you, Pablo noticed that your face was twisted in distain. You began moving the stone around his thighs, working in sweeping downward motions. The frown lines etched hard into your skin, eyes narrowed in concentration and slight disgust.

“Does Ferran make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“So the answer is yes he does.” Gavi’s voice was lowering with genuine concern. He and the team, the coaches, and even the rest of the physical staff only really laughed at or brushed off your daily interactions with the player. He hadn’t realized how deeply the comments were bothering you. But now it was evident as you swallowed and started working his thigh a little harder.

“I don’t want to speak ill of your friend.”

“If he’s bothering you, you should have told me. Or someone else on the team. We could have made him stop.”

“But why wasn’t me telling him I didn’t like it enough to make him stop?”

You pressed harder into Gavi now, stone running alone the muscles in his calf. You should have been using a lighter hand, but emotion you had been suppressing for months was all bubbling to the surface.

“You’re going kind of hard on my leg…”

“Why does it have to be you or Xavi or Dr. Gonzalez? Why do my words hold so little weight? So little value?”

“Okay this is painful now-“

“Why does it have to be one of you to say ‘hey, you shouldn’t make sexual remarks to someone on staff’? You think he tells anyone else their ass looks good in scrubs? Or that he’s glad their office has a door with a lock? No. It’s just me. Because I’m a girl he can talk about fucking me in broad daylight around the whole squad, and I have to shut up and keep him happy or I lose my job. It’s just so-“

“Ay fuck y/n!” Gavi yelled out, grabbing your wrist and tugging it forcefully to get you to stop your abuse on his leg. You grabbed his other thigh with your free hand, digging your fingers into the flesh. He looked you in the eyes, and finally noticed the tears starting to form.

“I know how you feel.”

"No you fucking don't, Pablo!" You yelled back, hand digging into his thigh, the other still in his grasp. This is when the first tear finally fell. I had been weighing on you for weeks - the slow realization that you were never going to respected in the way you deserved. A part of you knew that Martin was contributing to this burden as well. The arch of his brow when you talked about sports medicine terms, the mocking smile that played on his lips. The way he had adopted Ferran's disgusting little pet name of 'nurse'. You were disintegrating from the inside, and knowing that the others thought it was a joke, that Pablo thought it was a joke, was the final straw.

Gavi could do nothing but stare. His eyes softened, taking in your slumped form. It was like watching Hercules fall to his knees. Like watch the stars were falling from the sky and hitting the Earth in a fiery blaze. Watching you, who was normally so cool, so confident, so self assured, shake with silent tears was breaking something in Gavi. The way you said his name made his heart physically ache. You rarely diverted from his nickname to use his first name. 'When you did, it usually indicated a serious tone 'Pablo' meant there was something serious, something heavy. Now that heaviness was against your throat, suffocating you, and you were tired of carrying it.

Gavi stopped thinking. He acted on impulse only. He tugged the wrist that was in his hand, pulling you in. Your head met with his hard chest, and you felt one arm circle your shoulder. You remained like this for a long moment: up against Gavi, his arm pressing you into his chest, his shirt soaking up the wetness on your cheeks.

"'m sorry. I wont let him talk to you that way anymore."

You composed yourself, pushing yourself off Gavi and wiping your eyes. You looked away, embarrassed that you'd made him comfort you - that you'd broken down in front of him.

"It's okay. I can deal with Ferran."

"But you shouldn't have to."

"It's not your job to protect me, Pablo."

You finished the rest of your job in silence. Your fingers moved expertly around his skin, working out the muscle and pressing into his flesh, a soft gasp or hiss from Gavi being the only sound to fill the room. Your anger was irrational, but you couldn't quell it. You had gotten this far in life without the protection or defense of anyone, and you weren't prepared to be coddled now. You finished quickly, wiping your hands on your pant legs and moving to grab your bag.

"I'm going to go now. Get some sleep for tomorrow's match against Betis. Good night." You tried to walk past Gavi without looking up, but he blocked your path.

"You're in my way."

"You're not leaving while you're upset."

"You want me to stop being upset? Stop pretending you give a shit about my feelings. You want to look like a man? Telling off Ferran so people think you're a good person?" You shoved past Gavi once again, and once again he moved in front of you, blocking the door completely.

"Just because you're older than me doesn't mean I'll let you disrespect me in my own house. I'm not pretending to give a shit. I do give about your comfort and your feelings because last I check, we're friends. I've been waiting to break Ferran's shins for weeks, I've just been waiting for you to say so."

"You think it would make me feel better for you to hurt a teammate? Could you be any more juvenile?"

Gavi took a step towards you, arms crossed over his chest, breathing more heavy. He looked you straight in the eye, not allowing you to break from the gaze.

"You can yell at me all you want. You can be angry at the fact that I care about you. You can punch me," he hit on his chest, "right here if you want to. But I am not a child. Don't refer to me as one. So you can go an be upset and pretend that everything I do is selfish, but you know deep down that no matter how much you push me away, I'm looking out for your best interest." He opened the door and stepped aside.

"Drive safely, doctora."

You walked to your car, turning to gaze at Gavi, who leaned against the door frame, watching you intently. You were the most confusing person he had ever met. You were stubborn and easily irritated. You refused to accept help. You were fucking frustrating. But as he watched you walk to your car, something warm filled his body. He didn't want you to leave. He wanted to rush after you, pull you into his chest again, and take you upstairs. He wanted you to see the mess in his bedroom. He wanted you to lay on the couch. And the drive didn't feel like you were going home. It felt like you had left something important behind.

~

The next morning you were up before your alarm. You couldn't find sleep or peace. Your words to Gavi had eaten you alive all through the night. You knew you had been too harsh, projected too far onto him, but you hadn't been thinking straight. It hurt differently to think that he was laughing at your expense. The guilt followed you around all morning as you prepared yourself for the match. You slicked back your hair, pulling it away from your face, and dressed in the slacks and pullover that all the field medics were regulated to wear. But as you sipped your lukewarm coffee, the guilt still sat in your stomach, swirling and festering and making you nauseous. So you swallowed your pride with your last sip of coffee and pressed the call button.

"Uh, hello? Am I late?" Gavi's voice asked, raspy and dripping with the remnants of sleep. He sounded like a child who was woken up for school.

"Oh no, you're not late. I'm up early... couldn't sleep."

"Why not?" Gavi was now fully awake after processing that you had called him. His heartrate elevated slowly, the sound of your voice helping the tiredness slip away from his very being.

"I... I feel guilty about yesterday. I shouldn't have taken out all my anger on you and your thigh tissue. I really appreciate you looking out for me. I guess I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Gavi was leaning against his sink, swaying back and forth and smiling stupidly. You were thinking about him. You appreciated him. It made him swell with pride. He listened intently to the rest of your apology, hypnotized by the sound of your voice.

"There's no need to apologize doctora. I understand that you were upset."

"But I still feel bad. I was.. pretty mean to you yesterday. I want to make sure that you're not still upset with me."

Gavi looked into the mirror, smiling and dancing at your response.

"If you really want to make it up to me, I would like to cash in my favor."

You were in the process of grabbing your keys when you paused, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Favor? I don't remember owing you any favors."

"La doctora, you don't remember? Let me refresh your memory. You go home drunk and don't set an alarm. I come up with a wonderful and convincing excuse for Dr. G so that you don't get in trouble. You owe me, and I quote, anything I want. Ring any bells?"

You scrunched your face and groaned in distain. You remembered rather vividly now the promise you had made.

"Alright Gavi, hit me with it. I can take it. How am I repaying you saving my job?" You heard a low chuckle from the other side of the line.

"You'll be driving me home from the stadium starting today until we break for Christmas."

"What?!"

"You'll be driving me home. Pedri is working with Adidas for several campaigns over the next month, and it'll be a pain getting home after practice. Since you know the way now, you can get there easily. And hey, you can even visit Martin afterwards."

You started your car, thinking about the ask. It was on your way home anyways to drive by Gavi's neighborhood. And it would probably make you both even after your missteps.

"Fine. We will discuss further in the stadium when I see you. Go go, prep for the match. I want us to win today."

"We are going to win for sure. Give us a harder goal."

"Don't be arrogant Gavi. See you at noon."

~

Matchday at the camp was always extremely hectic, but especially for the medical staff. Meetings started at 9am despite the game not beginning until 3pm. All the equipment had to be approved by La Liga through inspection. Your wardrobe was inspected as well, and once again you were told off for not removing your rings. You pulled them off your fingers begrudgingly, hearing once again the lecture about rings tearing gloves. You were already over the match by the time the players started to arrive.

You made your way to the locker room to do some checks on players with pre-listed discomforts, making suggestions to prevent injury during the game. You were greeted warmly by the players as you pulled out your clipboard and pen. You made your way around, telling certain players to wear compression socks, and instructing others to stretch in certain ways. You made your way over to Pedri and Gavi, pulling out your notes.

"Pedri, how is that right thigh?"

"Amazing, y/n. I've been using resistance bands nightly like you instructed. I feel as flexible as playdoh."

"Always great to hear. Also congrats about the expanded Adidas contract." Pedri lifted his shirt over his head and looked at you somewhat confused.

"Ah thank you but... which contract specifically?"

Gavi's eyes were wide in panic. He had forgotten to fill in Pedri about his little white lie. It was true that Pedri had some filming with Adidas, but it would take about 3 days max. There was no reason that Gavi could pinpoint that would make him lie to get you to drive him home for 4 weeks. But he did it anyways, and now he needed to make sure it didn't collapse because of a lapse in communication.

"Gavi told me you'd be filming with Adidas, so I'll be driving him home until the Christmas break."

Pedri shot a look to the younger boy, one eyebrow arched, and found the expression of desperation on his face. The smile crept onto Pedri's face, proud of his friend for finally making some sort of move with you, even if he was yet to admit it was made because of the crush he was harboring.

"Oh that's right! They have us filming a lot of content at night to show off the color of these new boots, so it's really helpful that you'll be taking little Gavi home."

The sigh of relief was almost a little too loud. Gavi would fill Pedri in later, but for now, he was glad that he hadn't been caught in the lie.

"Anytime. Now onto little Gavi himself - how is the thigh tension?" You worked on Gavi, evaluating his physical form.

"I didn't know the nurse was making house visits today!"

Your jaw clenched and eye twitched at the sound of Ferran's voice. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and continued to check for signs of bruising and distress, crouched close to the ground to inspect Gavi's thighs.

"Wow Pablito, got her on her knees for you? You'll have to tell me the secret."

"Ferran, you couldn't get a dog to love you if you were covered in bacon. Be quiet and get changed so you can sit on the bench for 90 minutes."

You looked up at Gavi, shocked at his response. You squeezed his thigh, causing him to meet your concerned gaze.

"Gavi, tell me to shut up again and you'll be preparing for a prolonged hospital stay."

"I'd like to see you fucking try, Torres." Gavi moved from his place, approaching Ferran, before a hand from Pedri gripped his shoulder. One of the assistant coaches noticed the argument and rushed over, eager to prevent his players from killing each other.

"What the hell is going on?"

Ferran looked at Gavi with disgust, and then turned his eyes to rest on your chest.

"I think y/n is creating an uncomfortable environment in the locker room. I'd prefer if she wasn't here." He said, smirk playing on his lips. Your face paled, the colors draining and nausea bubbling. The last thing you needed was a complaint from a player.

"She wasn't doing anything except looking at my leg. She didn't even speak." Gavi responded, voice high and a touch too loud to be respectful.

"y/n, it may be better if you leave for field inspection. Send in Antonio to continue current problem rounds."

You nodded and walked out of the locker room, feeling utterly embarrassed. All you ever wanted was to make a good impression and be respected, and it seemed that no one paid your wellbeing any mind. You bit back your feelings and went to find Antonio. Gavi was not as merciful.

"What mental deficiencies do you suffer from that would make you say that? What if she loses her job?"

"She won't lose her job. She'll get a warning because of player complaints, and then she'll come to me and do whatever I ask to get the complaint removed. Just want to watch her bend over that desk just once before they realize she's incompetent."

"Say nasty shit about y/n in front of me again and I'll kick your fucking teeth in."

Ferran wanted to laugh, but the sound died in his throat when he saw the look in Gavi's eyes. His eyes were angry, cold-blooded, and murderous.

"You wouldn't dare." He retorted, trying to regain some confidence by calling the bluff.

"We play football for a living. I can make it look like a fucking accident." With that, Gavi left the locker room, ready to be away from Ferran and his punchable face.

~

Normally, you loved being on the sidelines for matches. You got to watch all the action as it occurred, and you got hands-on experience with the Barca players and the visiting teams (maybe it was bad, but you prayed Joao would need medical attention when Atletico was at Camp Nou). You got to enjoy every aspect of your job, and feel like you had come a significant way in your journey. Normally. Today, you wish you were at home or in your office or anywhere but the sidelines. Word had gotten back to both the coaching staff and the rest of the team about the little disagreement in the locker room, and now all eyes were on you. Xavi gave you the normal courtesy head nod, but gave you specific instructions to stay away from the bench and the players. It was a mortifying experience, and you prayed this game would end quickly and painlessly.

Your wish was granted in the first half. The team was playing cohesively and relatively safely, with a couple fouls here and there but no injuries requiring any attention. Lewandowsky scored a goal in the 34th minute, putting the team in the lead 1-0 at the half (during which, you were asked not to be in the locker room or the tunnel). This only made you feel worse. Player complaint were the kiss of death for any aspiring professionals in sports. You get into a disagreement with a player? You're gone. Why? Because there are thousands of physios and photographers and water boys, but only onw left forward worth 48 million Euros.

In the second half, however, you did not get your wish. Areal collisions came one after the other, requiring you to rapidly check players for any sort of head trauma. In the 67th minute, Gavi assisted Pedri with an amazing goal from deep in the box. You jumped when you saw the ball hit the back of the net. Pedri did his signature goal celebrations, and after he pulled away, your eyes locked with Gavi. He raised his eyebrows at you and you returned the gesture, and then he resumed the aggressive attacking. At minute 70, you were contemplating packing your things. The intensity of the match had died down significantly. Barca were passively looking for a third goal, and were not as prone to injury. This all changed in minute 72, when the midfielder decided he hated Gavi. Dribbling with the ball, Gavi was trying to turn to give him more options to pass or dribble, but he was surrounded by three people. As he tried to break free, the Betis player's knee collided with Gavi's groin. Hard.

The sound of the collision and then the fall to the ground sounded like it was heard in the entirety of the stadium. Your jaw went slack and eyes went wide. Gavi was on the floor, unmoving. You didn't even think, using enough brain power to grab the medical bag at your side, and then sprinted across the field to Gavi. There was a crowd of players surrounding him now, creating a tight ring of people. You approached the group, placing your hands on the nearest person, and then shoving.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY! MEDIC! MOVE!"

You finally go the bodies to disperse, and laying there was Gavi, tears in his eyes and whimpering from pain. He had one arm slung over his face, and the other gripped his shirt in immense pain. When he saw you approach, he looked at you with pleading eyes, begging for anything that would stop the throbbing pain he was experiencing.

"Gavi, where did you get kneed exactly? Where is the most intense pain?" You asked, kneeling to the ground and pulling on your gloved.

"My... my dick. I got kneed in the dick and it feels like hell." He replied. He was in too much pain to be shy. His dick fucking hurt, and he wanted anything to soothe the pain as quickly as possible.

"Gavi, I'm going to touch you now, okay?" You asked, hand hovering over the area. He nodded, not fully processing what you were saying or what was happening. You placed your hand over his dick and his eyes shot open. You began to massage the area slightly, moving your hand around, trying to prevent receptors of pain from activating and working to increase blood flow to the area.

And increase blood flow you did. Gavi felt the blood begin to pool in his shorts, and now that the pain was subsiding the embarrassment was returning, he took in what was actually happening. You had one hand on his cock and balls, moving them around slowly, and one on his hip, making sure the area wasn't sensitive. You looked up at Gavi, who was still in somewhat intense pain.

"Here, give me your hand." You placed your hand atop his, guiding it to his injury.

"Keep moving your hand around where you got kneed, and we'll get you on the bench. I would give you ice but I don't think that's idea here. Can you walk alone?" Gavi nodded, and you and the medical staff cleared the field. Gavi walked to the bench himself, earning cheers and love from all the fans in the stadium. He sat on the bench, continuing to massage his bruised genitals, and trying to make his blush subside by the end of the match.

~

After a stunning 3-0 win, you were ready to go to bed and never wake up again. Your whole body ached, and you had gotten dizzy from the sun exposure mixed with the biting chill of late November. You were barely able to drag your body to the players area - which you still could not enter. You received an email on your phone saying that Dr. Gonzalez would speak to you personally regarding the player complaint. Just as you were ready to burst into tears, Gavi emerged from the locker room, Pedri trailing close behind.

"Enjoy the game today?" Pedri asked, pulling you out of your trance.

"Loved it. I just wish Gavi could stop running into people so I could have a better viewing experience."

Gavi took this as an opportunity to enter the discussion, groaning on about how the other teams bullied him and were extra tough on him as the three of you walked to the garage.

"See you tomorrow, Pedri." You waved, unlocking your car and climbing into the driver's seat. He waived at you, and approached Gavi to hug him goodbye. As he pulled the younger boy in he whispered in his ear.

"I don't know how you thought of this little lie, but now you're going to be alone with her every day for four weeks. Ready to admit that you like her?" Gavi let out a fake laugh, playfully slapping Pedri on the shoulder.

"I don't like her like that. I just want to relieve some burden off of you, Hermano."

"Mhm yeah I'm sure. Just try not to get hard watching her drive on your first ride home. Wait until day 4 or 5." With that, Pedri walked to his own car, getting ready to call Fernando and update him about the circus that was Pablo's love life, and enjoying only being mobbed by 1/2 the normal amount of fans.

Gavi walked to your car quickly, climbing in and tossing his bag in the back. He tried not to think about Pedri's words. He was perfectly capable of sitting next to you, his friend, without being aroused just because you were a girl. At least he hoped he was. He was not hunched over and thinking deeply. Why did he decide that this was the best way for you to repay him? It's not like Pedri had ever complained about chauffeuring him around. And it's not like he didn't enjoy rides home with Pedri, listening to Quevedo and making idle conversation. But lately he just wanted to be around you - make sure you were okay.

The ring of your phone broke Gavi's train of thought. You answered on your car's speaker.

"Hola Martin. How are you doing?"

The sound of Martin's voice twisted Gavi's intestines, making him nauseous and fatigued. He hated the sound of his voice, the thought of his face, the words that he strung together and decided to say to you.

"Hola sexy. How are you doing this evening?"

You rolled your eyes. You knew exactly why Martin had chosen to call at this time. You had texted him earlier in the day, asking if he would be home that evening so you could drop by. This had led to a brief inquisition, with Martin wondering why you wanted to see him suddenly, and why you would be in his neighborhood. Once he found out it was because you would be in a car with Gavi alone, something in his behavior switched. He suddenly wanted to be a doting boyfriend who called and checked up on you.

"I'm doing well. You're on speaker in the car. I'm driving Gavi home right now."

"Are you still coming over afterwards? I've missed you so bad." Martin whined out that last part in such an animated way that it made you want to laugh. You knew what he was doing. He wanted to assert his dominance over Gavi, and make it think that you were going to swiftly go get railed by Martin right after you delivered Gavi at his doorstep. the truth was, despite dating Martin for several months now, you two had yet to go all the way. There had of course been kissing and some heavy petting, but no articles of clothing had never his the floor.

"I'll see how I'm feeling after Gavi leaves and call you then. Bye Martin." You said quickly, hanging up the call once you took a quick look at the disgusted look Gavi had plastered on.

"I'd mock you if I didn't think I would throw up." He said, trying to be lighthearted but failing. You didn't reply, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had to listen to your boyfriend's weak attempts to prove his manliness.

"No it's okay, go ahead and mock my boyfriend who moans on the phone when other people can hear." Your laugh was also stiff and forced. The call had made the air thicker and the mood more tense. You handed Gavi the phone, instructing him to play some music so that you weren't sat in the awkward silence that Martin seemed to always create between the two of you.

"This is a lot of pressure now on me. I'm never on AUX." He says, scrolling through his music. He pressed the song, and the sound poured from the speakers.

"Enrique Iglesias? Isn't he before your time?" You asked, smiling from ear to ear. You loved Cuando Me Enamoro, and the familiarity helped release the tension from your shoulders. As the song played, you started softly singing along. You opened the cover of the moon roof, allowing more of the street light to enter the car.

Gavi turned to look at you, examining your features. Your eyes were soft, focused on the road ahead of you. Your fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat. You had one leg up as you drove, leaning into the door slightly. Your lips moved along with the lyrics, singing contently. Gavi could not move his eyes from the sight. Your lips forming every letter were drawing in his focus, hypnotizing him. He never wanted to look away from the soft pink flesh. His thoughts began escaping his control. He wanted to hear you sing louder. He wanted to hear you speak, watching those lips talk about anything your heart held a passion for. He wondered what they would feel like against the pads of his fingers. He imagined what it would be like to kiss them - softly at first, just to feel their warmth and softness. Then harder, to interlock with his own, to bite them, pull them, have them stretched around him, make them cry out his name.

"Pablo?"

He snapped up, giving himself whiplash. Gavi had not noticed that he had rested himself on the center console, leaning against his palm and daydreaming so deeply it drowned out the sound of your voice calling his name.

"Sorry to disturb your deep pondering, but we're here." He looked up at you, vision still rose tinted from the deep dive he had conducted on your lips. His mouth hung open, wanting to say something, but the words would not form in his head. He wanted to touch you. He wanted you to be closer. But he couldn't say it. So instead he extended his hand for a fist bump, coupled with a quick mutter of 'goodnight'. He grabbed his bag, quickly closing the door and digging for his keys.

"Gavi?"

He looked back at you. Your eyes locked for a moment. His hazel eyes conveyed an emotion that you couldn't understand. You didn't want to look away from him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" There was a plead in the question that didn't escape either of you. It was a request. You wanted to see him. His eyes softened, crinkling at the sides as a smile spread across his space.

"Of course, doctora. Drive safe, and let me know when you get home."

Your eyes remained locked until Gavi shut his front door. He leaned against it breathing deeply, as you leaned your head against your steering wheel. You both felt a deep longing for the other, the feeling of "I miss you" sinking in as soon as the door clicked. But he got off the door, and you turned your engine back on, and you both ignored the feeling that something was missing.

~

Gavi was proud of himself. He was only half hard after leaving the car, despite the most sinful and inappropriate thoughts about your lips festering in his mind. He tried to eat, but he had no appetite. All he wanted to do was call you, text you, read your old messages. He threw his phone on his bed. He didn't understand why you now took up so much of his headspace and thought. He went to shower for the third time that day, hoping to relieve the tension permanently etched into his limbs.

You knocked on Martin's door for a third time. You had called him from Gavi's to let him know you were coming. He answered the phone out of breath and rushed, telling you to just come over, and hanging up quickly. It was night and day from the concerned lover that had called earlier. On the drive over you rationalized his behavior. Did you really have time for a boyfriend that wanted to talk to you often and be with you and have sex and sleepovers? No. You were busy and focused on advancing your career. So maybe Martin and his distance and indifference was actually perfect.

He finally opened the door after three rounds of knocking and two phone calls.

"You're here sooner than I expected." He said, cheeks slightly pink and breathing fast.

"Yeah Gavi lives really close by. Can I come in?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at his form, which blocked the entryway entirely.

"Uh," he looked over his shoulder before responding, "yeah sure. Come in." You entered his house, removing your shoes at the door. Martin had called you "backwards" the first time you did this at his house. As a person in medicine, you couldn't comprehend tracking the entire bacteria ecosystem onto the floor of his house, but it was one of those things you just agreed to disagree on.

"Making sure the other girlfriend left before letting me in?" You laughed, and he spun around quickly, grabbing you by the shoulders and leaning down to look at you.

"I know you make a lot of jokes, but this can't be one of them," he said, his tone somber and serious. "Don't ever joke about me being a cheater. It's not who I am and I am a better person than that." You were shocked by his sudden change in mood, putting your hands up in surrender and apologizing.

Gavi laid awake in bed, legs tangled in the sheets, moving from one side to the other, unable to find a single moment of rest. He checked the phone on his nightstand every couple of minutes, waiting to see your name light up the screen. Why weren't you home? It had been over an hour since you had left his house. Martin was definitely not interesting enough to keep you at his place for so long, especially after a match day. The longer he thought about it, the more the sweat pooled on his brow and the dread seeped into him. Maybe you two were having sex. Maybe you would be spending the night at his house, and Gavi would never get the "I'm home" text. He tried to calm himself, but everything irritated him. Why did you have to leave him to go to your stupid boyfriend's house? Why did he want you to tell Martin to fuck off and lay on the couch with him? Why did he want to know so badly if you two were having sex?

As with most news he got about your relationship, he heard the tip from Ansu who obviously heard it from Ferran: after three months together, you and Martin had still not had sex. After the initial 'why the hell are you guys talking about this', Gavi started to listen to Ansu's gossip as he packed his things after practice. He heard about Martin's complaints.

"Apparently, he told Ferran that she will kiss him and touch him and make him hard, then she will pull away and go home. He said first it was like exciting - ya know, being teased, playing hard to get. But now he's kind of getting impatient ya know. Ferran told him to get another girl."

"To break up with y/n?" Gavi asked a little more enthusiastically than he intended. Pedri looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow at Gavi, but refrained from making a comment. He wanted to go home, and he knew the longer this conversation continued, the longer it would be till he could sit in front of his TV and play FIFA.

"No not to break up with her. Ferran was like 'oh you know she's wife material like she is good in front of cameras and will look nice for your Wikipedia page. But if you want to have sex just go to a girl in a club and sleep with her and then do the couple shit with y/n when you feel like it. You already set her expectations low."

Pedri swears to this day he saw the smoke rise from Gavi's ears at the suggestion that Martin cheat on you. In football and in life, Gavi hated cheats. He wanted to tell you, but was advised against it.

"Unless we hear that he is actually cheating on her, there's no need to hurt her feelings or add stress to her life."

So now he sat in bed, frustrated in more than one way, as he thought about you and Martin having sex. He closed his eyes, hoping to conjure up a new mental image, but all he saw was you. You were in the same sweatshirt and leggings that you had come over in the other day. Martin was nowhere to be seen. You were in the living room, laying on the soft leather of the couch, beckoning Gavi over.

He felt the blood begin to pool and his cock start to harden. He threw one arm over his eyes, groaning loudly. It had become a common occurrence for him to get horny when thinking about you, but usually he could will the image away by reminding himself that you two were friends and would not be anything more. Usually. Today it wasn't working. The image of you on his couch, licking your lips and calling him over refused to disappear. The tighter he closed his eyes the stronger it got.

He moved his hand to palm his aching erection through the fabric of the boxers he had worn to sleep. The you in his head was standing now, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. The sight of skin (imaginary as it was), encouraged him further, and set his very skin ablaze. He pushed down his boxers, stroking himself slowly now. In his head now, you had slowly stripped away your sweatshirt, leaving you in a bra and tight leggings that cupped your ass in the most sensual ways. He was panting now, breathing heavily, switching between stroking his cock and playing with the head. In his mind you stripped off your leggings, leaving you in just your bra and panties for him to stare at, taking in the sight of your body. Beads of precum formed at the head, which he spread around, teasing his most sensitive nerves. He knew once he came you would disappear, and he didn't want to be without you.

The real you was in a similar position: seductive and shirtless. You were currently under Martin, shirt having been discarded somewhere in the living room as he pressed you into the couch. He broke from you to pull off his shirt, then captured your lips once again. You move fervently to match his pace. He kneaded your breasts between his hands. Rough. Everything Martin did was fast and rough. And you tried to keep up, but the only sounds leaving you were heavy breaths from exertion, not arousal.

The scene in Gavi's head switched perspectives. He was now on the couch, legs spread open, inviting you in. You walked towards him slowly, and he drank in the sight of you. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him, and rested your forehead against his. Your eyes, your lips, your breasts - the image of all three sent shock waves through his body and straight to his cock. He gripped it now. He wanted to turn to his nightstand, grab something to lubricate with and stroke in earnest, but he was afraid he would lose the vision of you.

In Martin's house, the real you was searching for an escape. Martin was kissing your neck, grinding into you like a dog in heat. After a few minutes he noticed that you had gone silent, even your breathing relaxing now. He came up to look at you. What kind of girl didn't get turned on from activities like this? He decided to switch positions so that you were laying on top of him, and he dug his fingers into your hips and ass pressing your clothed core against him. He was unmistakably hard, but you felt nothing. There was no pool in your panties or heat in your loins. You were kissing him hard but felt, well, indifferent. Like you might rather be doing laundry.

In Gavi's head, you were a puddle. He had captured your lips between his own, kissing you deeply as you rocked against him, the kiss only breaking when he hit your sweet spot, causing you to moan out. He let his hands roam your bare skin, and he could almost feel the warmth. Fingers resting on your waist, he moved with you, rutting against each other and chasing your release. He looked down at the two of you, watching the wet spot on your panties grow as you ground your clit into his hard-on. He moved to your neck, kissing and suckling until little marks bloomed on the skin. You whimpered out, and now Gavi wanted to do everything in his power to make you moan in earnest. You were looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, begging, pleading, imploring Gavi to do more. And he wanted to do so much more.

The action ended for the real you rather quickly. Martin was pushing you against him, bruising your pelvic bone as he chased his own orgasm, almost forgetting that you weren't a sex doll. You decided to help finish him off quickly and go back to your place. Maybe you would still have time for that laundry. You placed your hands on either side of his head, his face basically buried in your breasts, and you started to grind into him earnestly, rocking your hips in a way that you knew drive men crazy. Within 45 seconds he was cumming in his pants, moaning loudly, and pressing into you so hard you were worried it would leave marks. You gave him a quick kiss and tugged your shirt back on. You both exchanged words about seeing each other soon, and you walked out of his house to your car alone and unsatisfied.

Gavi was almost in pain. His cock was angry and throbbing, begging for him to stroke himself in earnest. But he couldn't do it dry, and he would rather remove his cock entirely than lose this dream of you. You were now in front of him, on your knees, touching his upper thighs. He felt the ghostly sensation on his skin as he remembered every time you pressed your fingers into the muscular flesh in your office (or on his couch). You pulled down his boxers, and his cock sprung free. You leaned over and let your tongue hang from your mouth, your drool flowing on to his cock. Gavi brought his hand up and spit in his palm, pretending it was you. He brought it back down and began stroking, long fluid motions from base to tip. You were also stroking him, looking up at him with those big innocent "fuck me" eyes, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning out.

He wanted you. He wanted you to be on your knees for him, on his lap, under him in bed. He wanted you. He had never been harder in his life. And then he got to those lips. Those pink perfect lips that spoke to him so gently, teased him, called out his name - in his mind he watched them stretch over his cock. His self restraint snapped. He brought his hand up again, spitting into his palm multiple times, and beginning to stroke his cock rapidly. He wished it was you. He wished it was your smaller hand wrapped around him, so he could guide you to stroke it in just the way he liked. He was playing with the head of his cock now, imagining your lips sinking deeper and deeper over him, looking up at him with tears in your pretty eyes.

There was no more pretending and no more care. The sheets were thrown off, the room filled with heavy breaths, groans, and the squelching sound of Gavi pumping his cock. His dream you had pulled of and was now leaving gently kisses on his cock, licking the head shyly. Your lips were red and swollen, a product of his passionate kisses and his member. Gavi was almost there. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, trying to see you, imagine you more clearly. You were alternating licking at his slit and sucking on his head. He was gone. Moans of your name mixed with "please" filled his room. He wished you were there. He wanted to feel your skin, the smooth warmth under his finger tips. He wanted to hear your voice, soft and silky and telling him how good he was going. He was so, so close. He had never edged himself this much in his life, but he wanted to keep watching you.

The dream you pulled off of the head of Gavi's cock, placing a kiss on it, before crawling back up his body. He tried to capture your lips in yet another kiss, but he couldn't. He felt you drape yourself over his thigh, grinding into the muscle there as you pumped his cock for him. He fisted his own cock at a bruising pace. He would deal with the consequences afterwards. Now he was ready to cum to you, for you. You leaned into his ear, still riding his thigh, one hand wrapped around him, and you moaned out,

"Pablo."

His orgasm washed over him in a tidal wave, knocking the air out of him. He moaned your name out loudly, filling the whole house with his sounds of pleasure. Cum landed on his chest, and he continued to pump himself through the orgasm, thinking of you and riding out his high. When it was over, he calmed himself and worked to slow his breathing. His eyes were still screwed shut, but you weren't there anymore. He was alone and covered in his own load, and he was still thinking about you.

Once he had composed himself (and his legs were stable enough for him to walk, he went to the bathroom and cleaned himself, donning a new pair of boxers to actually sleep in. Once he returned to his bed, he saw his phone light up.

[Doctora]: I just got home. Have a good night Pablo

His chest got tight again as he laid in bed, staring at your words to him. You hadn't forgotten. He set his alarm and laid down, the exhaustion from his orgasm settling in now and making his eyelids heavy. When he closed his eyes, he saw you again. This time you were fully clothes - in one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweats. You were in bed next to him, arm stretched out, beckoning him to come closer to you. Gavi hugged one of his pillows close to his chest, imagining it was you sleeping in his arms, and drifted off.

[Gavi]: Have a good night, doctora. Dream of me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: not proofread because I don't feel like it. I hope you al enjoy this part! I think this is the last part of 'exposition'/ setting up their dynamic, so relationship building will start in the next chapter, so I hope you all stick with me for the rest of the story! I love hearing all your reactions in the comments, so please don't be shy to comment! Or if you're a little shy, feel free to send me an anon ask!

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

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9

[megamilfluvr]

Headcanons about Kate

These are just a few things I personally deem as headcanon about Kate, after rewatching and analyzing her interactions and personality traits. Please remember that this is just my perception of her. If you have anything you consider to be headcanon about Kate let me know.

- likes being playful and teases you a lot

- leans against EVERYTHING (example: doors, counters, couches, tables. hell, she’d probably even lean against you if you let her lmao)

- manspreads. always. (if you ask why she sits that way she’ll tell you “i don’t know. it’s just comfortable,” and you know what i can’t argue that)

- can’t sit straight. (if you find her sitting properly, it’s probably because of a formal gathering or a meeting)

- likes stealing kisses from you (you could be sitting, standing, laying down it doesn’t matter she’ll still manage to steal one from you. AND ITS ADORABLE)

- randomly does something that only makes sense to her and just confuses you (things like her leaving a half empty cup ramen with tinfoil over it and her explanation? “what? i was in a hurry to leave.”)

- always wears socks

- loves cereal, specifically Frosted Flakes

- can accurately shoot up to five arrows at the same time

- loves to spoil you

- sometimes likes to splurge on perfumes (she’s not big on jewelry but fragrances? absolutely.)

- has a spacific playlist for working out

- made a playlist for you

- can’t take care of live plants, so she buys fake ones (she just doesn’t have a green thumb. any greenery you see in her apartment or dorm isn’t real lmao)

- loves target

- tried to hit the target logo with a plunger arrow (this is very on brand for kate)

- somehow burned water??? (we’ve established that she can’t cook multiple times by almost burning the apartment down. the one time the apartment burned, wasn’t her fault, but still kinda was lmao)

- collects squishmallows (she definitely buys the 24 inch squishmallows)

- if she doesn’t get her way she’ll start cutely pouting

- gets flustered when you’ve out rizzed her

- loves to act cocky around you (whatever you do don’t challenge her to a game of fencing, she wins. she’ll let that go to her head lmao)

- loves going to the movie theater with you

- gets excited to get a slushy and popcorn

- when she talks about you to someone she gets shy

- mumbles stuff under her breath (when she was talking with yelena in episode 6 she’s LITERALLY doing it. “yeah, i know what box mac n cheese tastes like, okay? i know it’s- i know it’s delicious.”)

- she’s insecure about her rambling but you always reassure her that it’s fine and you’re listening

- she’s spent too much money on a gaming pc

- only owns a pair of boots (it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, she’s going to wear her boots even if it’s a dress)

- super clumsy (somehow in the field she’s good at not being clumsy, but oh my god she’ll make your blood pressure spike 100%)

- always thinks outside of the box (it's impressive how quickly she thinks on her feet)

- is surprisingly calm under certain serious situations (i mean she took down men double her size running right at her, i’d panic and run the opposite direction)

- doesn’t give up easily which results in her being stubborn sometimes

- you having to remind her to shut up or low her voice in very quiet places (you could be on a mission with her and a few others and she just randomly “hey, did you see that tiktok i sent you this morning?” “SHHH, is now really the time for that?”)

- will send unhinged texts at worse time (you’re both in a debriefing and she’ll just text something like, “okay, so hear me out… we kidnap him.” “what?! no. kate we’re not about to steal rocket!”)

- loves sending memes (that’s literally all of her tiktok fyp)

- ALWAYS LOSES HER APARTMENT KEYS (someone give this girl a tile… you know what she would also end up losing that too lmao)

- loves ring but ends up losing them

- has a matching arrow necklace with you (again, she doesn’t wear rings much since she’s always losing them, so she’d go with a bracelet or necklace)

- loves hats, hoodies and sweatpants (after seeing that one picture of hailee wear her hawkeye hat, it’s headcanon for kate)

- still somehow makes you laugh even when you’re upset with her

- it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, when she’s been assigned a mission. she’ll always make time to video chat with you

edited: i’ve proofread this like three times, if there’s still typos or anything just ignore them lmao

[francixoxoxo]

pirate billy finding a shell or an oyster with a pearl in it and feeling kind of silly giving it to mermaid reader because she lives with it all but he's just reminded of her when he sees beautiful things and he thinks everything lovely should belong to her. and mermaid reader loves it so much too :)

omg this is such a cute idea I think I went a little too crazy with it

As Billy turns the delicate thing over in his hands, he feels like a fool. You tend to have that affect on him.

His thumb feels over the small ridges of the oyster, hands behind his back. It’s already been cracked open a bit, though he left it to you to fully unfurl. You’re laying on your back in the sand, hands splayed over your belly (which you’re pleased to find is becoming dotted with sunspots, a token of spending time on the surface), and your eyelashes fanning against your cheeks. You already called for him to sit beside you, and sure, he’s shrugging off his boots and sticking his socks into the mouths of them, but he’s stalling. His baby blues are trained on the crown of hair sprawling around your head and collecting grains of sand, the low hum emanating from your throat as you hum a tune a mother’d sing to a young’un.

You already have what he wants to give you. You can find it anywhere, frankly, so what’s so special about the fact that the gift passed his fishhook-bitten and rope-scathed hands? Fact is that he ain’t got much to give. The most he can do is pick frangipani in their fullest bloom to thread into your hair, bend over a bracelet of twine for hours to ensure the rope is devoid of anything that could prick your soft skin, rove his eyes over the surf at low tide until he finds a worthy shell. A nook to lay in, to remain near to him even when miles separate you, a bed in the softest recesses of his heart; that's all he can give you.

"Billy?" You call again, opening an eye just by a crack. The tresses of your hair collect more sand as you tilt your head to see him. What could he possibly be pondering so hard, you don't know, but you know it won't be hard to coax it out of him.

"M'here." He's snapped out of his thoughts, willing his feet to move on the sand, finding it in himself to settle beside you. his feet are in the surf, the cold saltwater lapping at them tenderly. Satisfied with his presence, you close your eyes again, turning your face to the sun. Billy twirls and brushes his fingers through your locks affectionately.

The environment is gently licking at Billy's ears, all of it careful and all of it gentle, not one thing overpowering another. There is the warm breaths puffing from your nostrils, the sea's basin of rolling tides swishing against the shore, the faint twitter and warble of birds in the forest a ways away from the beach. You fit into this place like it was formed around you, like a party moves around a sleeping child on the sofa, the tide at your schedule, the sun at your preference, the wind at your whims. Billy sticks out like a sore thumb, thrown into this world with two left legs, stumbling like a fawn for survival. In the meanwhile, all that was beautiful in nature seemed to be created in your image.

He feels like a fool, presenting a queen with a birch twig when she is deserving of sapphire.

Billy fills his lungs in a deep breath and murmurs, "Got somethin' for you." The smile that splits your lips fills the growing cavity in his chest with a whisper of hope. Your eyes flutter open.

"Really?" Your smile was one that inspired murals. Billy nods, a laugh emanating deep from his chest. Carefully, he unclasps the hands in his lap, lifting a cupped palm to you, presenting the taupe oyster. As you take it into your own hands silently, a nervous feeling creeps up into Billy's stomach.

"I know y'probably got plenty, don't need none from me, but.. I dunno, I thought it was pretty. Made me think of you." Billy rambles, his brows drawing as he watches you. There is a tender smile on your cheeks, as you wedge both thumbnails into the tight-lipped mouth of the oyster. Masterfully pulling it open, not damaging the hinge, not needing a knife to shuck it. Of course you don't need a knife, his strong girl.

There's plenty more he wants to say, sure, he could fill a book with all the words to make up for the embarrassingly simple gift. But once the oyster is pried open and your thumbs are working the pearl out, he falls silent. You smile at him when you hold the small, ivory bead. "It's beautiful!" You lean over, bridging the small gap twixt you two and cupping his cheek in the hand not holding the pearl. His stubble is familiar, the scratch of it on your fingertips welcome. "It's already my favorite."

A breathy chuckle slips from Billy's lips, his eyes filled with a fond awe. You liked it, the thought is light with relief as it echoes in his head. It wasn't anything special to you. But it passed his hands, your man held it and wanted you in particular to have it. As he leans forward, tenderly bringing his lips onto yours, you feel absolutely certain that any gift from him would be cherished more than a bird appreciates the wind under its feathers; more than a fern cherishes the sun lending warm hands to its leaves; more than the sea cherishes the moon, willingly moving to its whims. Billy'd someday admit that he was under a similar gravity. Wherever you go, he will follow.

[raayllum]

i desperately need your sweetest headcanons of ez and rayla being Siblings

Mandatory Rayla&Ezran brotp tag drop here & first some rambly meta cause like, a lot of this is based on the concept(s) of Ezran and Rayla fundamentally being more like each other than either of them are like Callum

Like they both grew up friendless (whereas Callum seems to have a lot more ease in actually interacting with new people & I've always HC'd him having less friends out of choice, cause those potential ppl didn't get along wit his brother) and feeling perpetually different, they both (like Claudia) take on their parents' previous paths and feel the weight of it. They also tend to have a lot of similar esque insecurities and hangups ("I feel like I'm letting everyone down" 3x03 —> "I failed them, I let them all down" 3x04 / "It's not fair you have to go through this alone" 5x02 —> "I knew I had to be strong alone" in 5x04 / self blame tendencies with "You knew? I'm an idiot! I should've figured it out" 2x08 —> "Ugh, I'm such an idiot. I should've figured it out" 1x09) and are both very much bleeding hearts. They're also willing to pivot away from prior missions (bringing Zym home) for causes they see as more worthy in a lot of ways — going home to rule (the individual collective) and freeing Phyrrah (the individual stranger) — even if that separates them from others and/or puts them more at risk, cause they're just loyal to causes and ideals and self-imposed responsibilities tethered to those concepts like that? I love them

Like they both are like Callum — Ezran is emotionally open and inclined towards vulnerability, like him, which Rayla is not, and Callum and Rayla, esp in arc 1, take on responsibilities that Ezran do not & all their stuff with adoptive dads and communication etc etc. — but they're also more similar to each other than they are to him. More on that here & here + bonus S5 hammering that in more than ever (Rayla going with Ezran's plan in 5x05 anyone?)

Now onto the actual headcanons

Rayla doesn't have a lot of patience for games (cards, chess, etc.) and will be a sore loser/give up when playing with just about anyone else (including Callum) but she can never say no to Ezran over it, and he's so earnest/having such a great time she can never be a total grump when they do play games together

Ezran is the one who primarily took care of her Shadowpaw, for obvious reasons, in the castle stables until she returned, hence why sweetie pie was waiting for her & ready for the Lux Aurea trip

The little archangel lunaris on his backpack was absolutely chosen with her in mind <3

Both Rayla and Ezran possess an abundance of faith in other people, and this is shown best when they're being supportive of or defending one another ("She'll know what to do" —> "He can do this, we have to believe in him" —> "She's alive. And wherever she is, she loves you too")

Rayla weaving a little braid into his hair and having Ezran weave one into hers as well because braids are for love and family, and they are certainly both to one another

This shitpost, which is really just them getting stuck on and continually adding to dumb bits for each other to laugh at

Playing pranks back and forth on Soren and sometimes on Callum

Mostly they just tag team chores like "making sure Callum has eaten and slept and left his study recently" / keeping their favourite mage out of his head

Rayla giving Ezran stealth lessons and Ezran having Rayla bake jelly tarts with him

They always insist on being on the same team when it comes to snowball fights at the Banther Lodge

Ez loves to infodump about certain things and Rayla loves to let him, especially since his trains of thought and ramblings are a bit easier for her to follow than his brother's (most of the time)

Rayla having Ezran teach her how to notice things about illusion animals so she can have an easier time telling the difference (Soren teases her about it and she socks him in the stomach)

This isn't really so much of a headcanon as it is a canon observation but in battle sequences Callum doesn't really usually focus (outside of when he's using said magic to protect Ezran) on getting Ezran away from the danger, instead trusting Rayla to do so — and she always does (1x06, 1x08, 1x09, 2x04, 5x09)

Because she's just his friend and not his subject (or for now, an official member of his council the same way), Ezran finds himself seeking out when he just needs to have dumb kid fun, and Rayla is always down to help him

On that note she's very good at knowing when he needs space vs when he's okay being fussed over (Callum, Opeli) and telling people that even when he may not be able to express it himself because non-verbal times / feeling overwhelmed

Whenever they go on roadtrips in the future, Rayla does her best to bring special snacks around for him (and teach him how to forage, which animals can help him with too)

Eventually when Ezran is a little older, Soren needles him about learning how to defend himself, and Ezran dreads having to hold a sword and initially refuses. But Rayla plops down beside him and talks him through it and reaffirms that they just always want to make sure he's safe, and that's what gets him to come around to the idea

Ezran and Rayla both being physically affectionate people — Rayla slinging her arm along his shoulders, Ezran often grabbing her hand as a sign of support (most often the one she was going to lose to the binding) and squeezing gently, like a reminder that they're both still here and everything's okay and/or going to be alright

Rayla tears up when she realizes that Ezran is finally taller than her, much to his mild annoyance and amusement

Ezran helps Rayla with her proposal to Callum, and does not tell her (or his brother) that Callum is also planning to propose lmao

[ilikereadingactually]

Time's Agent

Time's Agent by Brenda Peynado

HOLY SHIT. i'm wrung out after reading this, what an absolute stunner! Peynado has offered both hopeful and devastating possible futures, wrapped up in one tight package of grief. it's wild how much happens in this novella, and how much of it had me by the throat.

the premise is fascinating: the discovery of pocket worlds, different sizes and biomes and time dilations, accessed by doorways that humans have stumbled on accidentally for the entirety of our history on Earth. but these worlds, like any other discovery, are eventually at the mercy of human greed. it's a book about the violence of colonialism and capitalism, and the longing to undo those harms or find a way out from under them.

but these huge-scale themes are distilled through Raquel, an archaeologist in the Dominican Republic, part of an institution that studies pocket worlds, alongside her botanist wife Marlena. the action of this book—and there's a lot of it—is full of dazzling technology and hops in and out of pristine or utterly ecologically ruined dimensions, but the heart of it is with Raquel and the grief of her mistakes and the desperate hopes she tries to make real.

i barely even know what to say about this, even though i've now rambled for three paragraphs. it's breathtaking. it knocked my socks off. i have a sudden craving for mango.

the deets

how i read it: an e-galley from NetGalley. i think this one was actually marketed to me by email, for which i'm insanely grateful, as i might have missed it otherwise!

try this if you: are into weird time and space physics, dig LatAm and Caribbean stories, love to cry while reading, want more archaeology and botany in your sff, or have a hate on for exploitative fruit corporations.

some lines i really liked: a collection of large and small griefs

I am ready to wish. I take a breath. The raging air in my lungs screaming to be let out, I chant, I will not think about before, I will not think about before. But time never lets it be that easy, does it? Grief can make a single breath feel like a thousand years, but when you want to stay in the moment forever, time is a hound that hunts you down. Time, my enemy. Time, the thief.

___

The buzz of insects worshiping flowers. The floral exhalation of the rustling wild. A small, burbling stream that cut through the meadow like a smile. The magnified curvature of the sky like we were walking through the meadow and the sky at once. We felt brilliant, new, released from the crush of Earth Standard.

___

She told me that centuries ago, imported bananas tasted different, but that cultivated species had been decimated by a fungus. The echoes of that flavor could still be found in the formulated candies that pretended to be essence of banana. Essence of all that we'd lost.

___

But aren't all anniversaries relative? We can celebrate and mourn every day if we want.

pub date: August 13, 2024! go get this book immediately

[crxwnedalex]

random beta scenefrom my fic

Scene of them bonding (not much spoilers)= 

“I work for this…Lady, she sends me out to different places to uh, collect things for her, I get paid in a free house and food sometimes.” Hugo reveals, taking a moment to find his words.

“Yeaaah- did you know that’s illegal in my time?” Alexander adds in a bright tone, his careless smile showing the lightheartedness of the situation

“Huh? Collecting things?-” 

“No, uh, child labor, it’s kinda illegal now; at least where I’m from.” He added, emphasizing the topic, but shrugging as he stared off towards the setting sun. “I’m not a child-”

“You’re 15.”

“W- How did you know that?”

“Uh, I don’t know actually, my memories just tell me I know you, and things that I would probably know about you. In very cryptic ways, but I also don’t and you didn’t know me before this, so it’s all just kinda confusing.” Alexander Rambles.

“Your conveniently missing memories told you things about me?” Hugo asks; a playful amusement filtering the otherwise bewildered and unbelieving tone the blonde used.

“It seems that that’s correct, Mr. Smartass.”

“Okay, Mr. I-hate-wearing-socks” Hugo retorted, a small laugh escaping his otherwise stoic posture.

“They’re atrocious, it’s not my fault I hate wearing those death-heaters!” Alexander argued in all genuineness, over-dramatically may I add.

“‘Death-heaters?’” Hugo asks, half laughing, half surprised. “Now that’s a title I've never heard, Be-ware, for I have the infamous pair of death heaters; and I will destroy you!”

The blonde raised his hands dramatically, instantly falling into a laughing fit with Alexander. It was odd, how easily the stranger-turned-friend had gotten him off his carefully built walls. They weren’t broken down, to say, but he did find it rather easy to just talk to him and not wonder if his view or opinion was ‘too childish’ or non-conforming to her standards.

Maybe it was because Alexander, while being definitely older than him, was extremely childish. Fast and swift; knowledgable slightly in the art of thievery, but childish nonetheless. 

Quotev-

AO3-

[anon-argentine]

just me rambling about my Vampire: the Masquerade characters because I made myself sad

Your name is Lucía Szabó and you are being raised by your eccentric aunt in Buenos Aires. Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you in 1906 and it clearly still pains your aunt. You have no other family to speak of and your aunt doesn’t like to talk about them, so you brush it off. You are brought up in luxury and comfort and you attend the best private schools and clubs, mingling with the elite. One day your friend confesses that the mayor’s son assaulted her and the next day he is found brutally murdered. Your aunt doesn’t pressure you to get married, any unwanted suitors are quickly kicked out and any wanted suitors must pass her judgement. You become a teacher, meet a charming professor that you love with all your heart and create a school together. Your husband eventually tells you that right before proposing he had a nightmare about your aunt turning into a monster and threatening to kill him if he hurt you. You brush it off. You get older and suddenly realize that your aunt looks exactly the same, even as the years pass and your friends’ parents begin to grey. You brush it off, reasoning that the rare cosmetics she keeps in her vanity and forbids you from touching are the secret to keeping her young looking. You give birth to two daughters and name your aunt Godmother (unofficially, of course, since she refuses to step foot in a church). On a soft summer night, your aunt asks you if you want to live forever. You say no and she never brings it up again. Your daughters grow up and your aunt still looks the same.

Your name is Ana Zaselki, born in 1928. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall down while playing in the garden and break your leg, that angle is way too unnatural to be a simple sprain - but your Godmother has you close your eyes and you scream as she sets the bone back in place and- it’s good as new. Like nothing had happened. After that, you want to become a doctor. Your godmother uses her power and influence to get rid of any man who tries to stop you. You contract polio while working at a hospital during an outbreak - no one is allowed to see you and they are keeping you in quarantine, but somehow your godmother sneaks in and sits at your bedside. She brushes your hair back and holds your hand with no hesitation, singing old lullabies from the old country. She asks if you want to live forever, without ever getting sick again. You refuse. Your Godmother nods and keeps singing until you close your eyes again.

Your name is Luisa Zaselki, and you’re born in 1930. You are raised by your parents in a nice house and attend their school, but money is a bit tight so you are not used to luxury. Any presents and fancy things come from your great-aunt and Godmother. She is imposing and beautiful and sometimes looks younger than even your own mother. She teaches you Hungarian and makes you beautiful dresses. You fall in love with the process of making clothes and decide you want to be a designer. You work hard and refuse any direct help - it will be your name on the brand and no one else’s. The owner of a best-selling magazine asks that you model your lingerie line yourself if you want your collection to be featured there. The next day, he is found caught up in the printing machines, blood mixing with the ink. The editor publishes an extensive praise article on your collection. Your parents grow older and weaker and your godmother stays the same. She is there for the birth of your daughter - the result of a fling, but husbands are useless anyway - and your godmother presents her with the prettiest blankets and socks.

On and on it goes. Mothers and daughters and a single Godmother that started it all.

Your name is Maria Szereda, you are the fifth child in a minor noble family in Hungary. You are awkward and quiet and prefer to spend your days at the loom and sewing table. The war kills your older siblings and mother and nearly everyone you knew. You are seventeen and unmarried, the nobility are also dwindling in numbers, and your father doesn’t know what to do with you so he sends you away to serve a countess. Maybe she’ll find you a husband. The Countess is a beautiful woman and a very vain one too. She loves the way you work with dresses, altering them to be more up to date and coming up with new ways to add details. She asks if you want to live forever. You wouldn’t have to worry about husbands or dowries, you can sew and weave to your heart’s content. You say yes. You almost faint the first time Countess Bathory shows you the blood bath she uses to remain beautiful, the now dead serving girl with her throat cut hanging upside down to add to the blood. It’s also the first time your mouth waters at the scent of fresh blood. You don’t watch the torture your mistress enjoys so much, you drink their blood because the smell permeates every inch of the castle and not drinking it feels worse, and you keep to your sewing needles and fabrics because if you do a good job then she won’t turn on you.

It’s 1605 when the church and crown come for your mistress. You escape and find yourself completely alone. You spend the next three centuries going around Europe, endearing yourself to courts and kings with your skills and beauty. A French duke tries to have his way with you and you kill him, draining him dry. You are euphoric and restless and eager for more, was this how Bathory felt when she tortured scullery maids? You catch an English lord taking advantage of a maid and kill him too. The Spanish prince and Austrian count and Swedish captain suffer similar fates.

You get bored and go to Buenos Aires in 1900. There you hire a lady’s maid named Ana Szabó, a fellow Hungarian immigrant. She is soft-spoken and sweet but has a ruthless streak and can draw blood if needed. You ask her if she wants to live forever.

She says no.

[constellationcrowned]

"Here, for hopefully safer travels." The not so secret secret admirer sahash then gives the Traveler a pair of woolen socks, woolen gloves, and earplugs.

"I daresay this is becoming a habit, you're far too kind to me." The Traveler makes it a point not to stare too hard at the other's face; especially considering HOW SHY THEY'D BEEN PREVIOUSLY, but she does look up at beam at them upon receiving and then opening the gifts.

"Oh....THESE ARE EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED!" The gloves and earplugs especially, and the mortal is quick to squeeze them tightly in her hands if only to ensure that she doesn't lose them. With this her work could, stars willing, continue and then....

She blinks---the possibilities could wait, be present!---and soon redirects her gaze towards the other, now looking at them rather plainly.

"Ah, I know! HOW ABOUT YOU ACCOMPANY ME FOR THE DAY?" The Traveler gestures towards the Flat boundary nearest to where they stood with an open hand. "I don't intend to go far and I'd like to repay your generosity, in fact I must insist. I can collect reagents for you or teach you what I know of the Tsourai if you're interested or...." She's just gonna keep rambling if they let her, eager as she is to suggest something that they'd like.

[someonesomewheredown]

Random OC rambles, some of which to provide context to future rambles but mostly just brain dumps

Originally they were spirits in a spirit world but now I've kind of decided against it just because I feel like that sort of goes against how I want their story to be about living. So now they're just normal furries lol

I'm still pretty attached to the ideas I had for the spirit world though so I'll save that idea for later. I think it'd actually make a pretty cool guidebook "story" since most stuff I come up for it are just the setting rather than the characters living in it. That's a project for another time though

Can't remember if I actually mentioned it here but at some point I decided that Bud (dog, specifically a shih tzu) has a terminal illness. This was originally because my idea was that spirit's lives mimic their real ones (basically they'd live for a similar time, die a similar way, have a similar personality etc) and I needed an explanation for why Bud died young enough in the real world for another character to have "lived" to see both his current incarnation and his past, more long-lived incarnation before she herself "died" and reincarnated back on earth. Eventually I decided on him having progeria, which is a rare genetic disorder where children experience physical symptoms of aging such as issues with bone + heart health, hair loss, growth + weight issues, etc. Since he's no longer a spirit my original intention for him being terminally ill doesn't really apply anymore, however I still want him to keep that aspect of his character. I definitely still need to do more research on it, though, so if anyone happens to have good resources on it let me know!

Since design-wise Bud is partially based on Spanish Moss I'm trying to experiment with giving his new anthro design long, coily hair to match the plant

Idk what exact kind of hair I want Lo (Bud's older sister, cat) to have but at minimum I think she'd have a basic buzz cut. This is partially because I'm still pretty attached to her original non-humanoid design and giving her a lot of hair feels weird

Doran (their dad) is a frilled lizard. Not sure if he'll have hair but if he does it'll also be long and coily. My thought was that it'd run down his head in-between where the frills are

Being a young kid, Bud wears a lot of colorful and comfortable clothes like shorts and t-shirts, although usually he'll wear something underneath like a long sleeve shirt and leggings/long socks to keep his joints warm + more flexible. He definitely has a pair of light-up sketchers at some point in his life

Lo wears a lot of long + thick + soft fabrics like sweaters and sweatpants. She tends to be pretty anxious and being comfortably covered up tends to make her feel "safer" in stressful situations. In the warmer months she tends to switch the sweatpants for long skirts or pantyhose. Sometimes she'll also follow the "short top, long underneath" format with long sleeves + a vest or a short skirt + long pants but this doesn't usually happen unless she's intentionally trying to look more "fancy" or "professional"

I don't have as much of a grasp on Doran's personality outside of "generic dad" but at the very least I think he'd wear a lot of business-casual stuff like polo shirts and khakis out of habit. He probably has a decent collection of silly ties although I don't think he wears them often

[timottea]

heeeey! could i request smth for timothee. maybe he met y/n through their mutual friends, start hanging out with her and slowly falling in love with her. thanks ❤️

hiii, sorry this took so long life got crazy and is still crazy! thank you for trusting me with this idea it's so good, it's going to become a series whenever i can updateee ❤️

“you made it!” your friend shrieks, throwing her arms around yet another person whose name you don’t know. you don’t mind, she’s always been a social butterfly, and her housewarming was always bound to be an affair. but there must be nearly 40 people in her two bedroom apartment and you just need a break from the noise. as the third bottle of champagne spritzes open, you take your chance to find some place quieter.

in the next room, you find shelter between a potted plant and her barren bookcase — you’ll let the bleak shelves slide, after all, she’s only just moved in. there’s a cardboard box labelled BOOKS beside the bookcase, so you have to tear it open, just to help her out.

“curiosity killed the cat, you know,” a voice speaks suddenly. you jump, slamming your head into one of the shelves and seeing stars.

“god! you scared me!” you cry. your hand darts to your head as you turn to face the assailant.

“oh my god i- i- i’m so sorry, oh christ, are you — is your head okay — fuck — i’m so sorry! here, let me —”

the stranger’s hands flap in the space between your two bodies, begging to fix, to comfort, to write you a fucking apology letter.

you take a moment to look at him, to take in the way he shifts his weight from addidas to addidas, to the tuck of his sweats in his socks, to his fluttering hands, the sheer panic on his face, that face!, the curls that fall into his eyes, and curiosity may just kill you after all.

you zone back in and he’s still talking —

“— bad first impression, god, worst first impression, i- fuck, can i get you — i can’t believe this, whatever you need i’ll —”

you tilt your head to the side to observe him, fascinated. he could go on for days, you think, and — even more shocking than the fright he gave you — you’d let him. you could listen to this boyish stranger with the curly hair and wild hands talk for days.

the boy’s eyebrows arch and they’re such a sad angle it makes something in your chest twist. he’s mortified, and stumbling over his words, and you watch a million different emotions flit across his face like a flip book.

“your face is pretty,” you say suddenly, silencing his rambling. you blame the champagne.

he blushes. “oh my god, you absolutely have a concussion.”

you laugh, shoving him playfully. you furrow your eyebrows when he steps closer. “what are you doing? i’m fine.”

“i just- sorry, i just need to check your pupils aren’t weird,” he says, meeting your eyes for a second that feels an awful lot like eternity.

you squint as you focus on the colour of his, finding it impossible to decide. somewhere between green and hazel; they remind you of sunlight streaming through a canopy of leaves.

his eyebrows raise and his lips move and you realise a second too late that he asked you a question.

“huh? sorry, what was that?” you shake your head and immediately regret it. “ow.”

“i said i really think you need to sit down?” the boy repeats, guilt and concern etched across his features. “come on, i think i saw a — oh, yeah, here’s good too.”

he sinks to the floor as well, sitting himself in front of you and the box of books.

“everywhere else is too loud,” you explain, then pry open the box to leaf through your friend’s book collection.

the boy nods, adjusting the ring on his finger as he watches you sort the volumes onto the empty shelves.

“are you sure you're okay?” he asks again.

your fingers still against the spines of the vonneguts. “yeah, honestly, don’t worry about it.”

“hmmm i’m not so sure,” he says. you turn to look at him and register the smirk gracing his lips. “no person free of a concussion would put vonnegut next to whitman.”

your jaw drops. how dare this handsome stranger question your alphabetising! “but that’s the alphabet!” you exclaim, singing, “T U V W!”

he shakes his head, amused, then scoots forwards to mess up your beautiful order. “alphabet is boring. too clinical.”

“you must hate going to book shops, then,” you glare at him and he shoots you a smile that you just want to kiss right off — wait, what?

“oh my god, i bet you draw all over your books,” you gasp, quickly moving the box out of his reach.

he sticks out his tongue.

“and — oh god — i bet you dog ear pages!” you shudder dramatically and he throws his head back laughing.

“whaaaat and you don’t?!” his laughter is contagious and you find yourself dazzled by the light in his eyes, so bright you almost have to look away. but you can’t. the last thing you want to do is look away so you lean forwards, lean closer. you want to make him shine like this with every word you say and you’re really blaming the champagne now.

“so what brings you here? run out of books to destroy?” you say, turning one book over and over in your hands.

the boy grins, amused, then leans back to glimpse the party through the doorway.

“my friend knows almost every person in this building, and, uh, he kind of dragged me out tonight,” he finishes bashfully.

at the raise of your eyebrows he adds, “not that i don’t want to be here, just that i don’t know anybody here.”

you nod, watching as he ducks his head sheepishly and switches the rings around on his fingers.

it’s the champagne that makes you bold. you lean forwards and nudge his leg with yours and his head shoots up to look at you.

“well i'm yn, and it’s nice to meet you,” you say, giving him another nudge for good measure. electricity floods through your veins.

nudging you back, his smile is lopsided when he replies, “well i'm timothée, and likewise.”

[highladydawn]

Gwynriel, modern day tattoo artist/librarian?? 🥺🤲

Gwynriel — Librarian & Tattoo Artist AU

(CW: Brief mentions of trauma and scarring)

"Nope! Nope. Absolutely not,” states the woman in the doorway. “No fucking way in hell.”

Azriel has just enough time to note that the hair tucked underneath her winter hat is molten copper before the woman spins on her heels and disappears back into the Velaris tundra. His eyes track her through the crystalline frost on the window, a bundled source of color against an otherwise dreary day. 

The woman makes three labored steps against the freezing wind and relentless snow, only to scurry back into this shop. This time, she lets the door slam shut behind her. Azriel only blinks as the redhead shakes her head, droplets of melting white fluttering from her hair and onto the parlor floor. And for a moment, she simply stares. 

“I...got about three feet away before I realized what an asshole move it would be to just walk into your shop, swear a bunch, then leave. I was gonna just leave. You know, do whatever people do when they’re so embarrassed they could die, but I’d rather be embarrassed than an asshole. So uh, I wanted say that it wasn’t you or the cleanliness of this place that stressed me out. Just the prospect of getting a tattoo. Anyways, sorry for swearing at you. And for tracking now into your parlor. And for— ”

"It’s fine,” Azriel cuts her off, unable to fight off a smile. “People get cold feet all the time.” 

“I don’t have cold feet!” the woman insists. She kicks one slushy boot up into the air so he can see it better, then adds, “I wear two pairs of socks! In fact, my feet are the only thing about me right now that isn’t cold and hooo I’m rambling again. I think I’m going to go dunk my head into a snowbank now, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“Why leave when it’s warm in here?” Az interrupts, this time surprising himself with his own eagerness. Hesitation blooms on the woman’s face, as if she can’t decide whether or not he’s making fun of her. “You can tell me what you planned to ask for today and I can tell you whether or not you should really have cold feet about getting inked.” 

Whatever bravery had abandoned her when she first walked into the shop returns with a vengeance. The woman begins peeling off her many wintry layers, draping them politely on the coat rack. Her mile long scarf and woolen hat are the last things to come off, revealing her face to the warm lights of the shop. For a moment, Azriel feels the way he might if he had been pushed out of an airplane. 

This woman was cute when she came in swearing and rambling and blushing. But now, with her teal eyes boring into his and her hair frizzy from her hat, he can’t help but think that she is seriously beautiful. 

“I’m Gwyn,” she tags on, hovering in the entryway with an anxious smile. The edges of his heart melt at the dimple that crowns her smile and he would really, really like to get it together—but he can’t. 

Maybe inviting her in was a bad idea, after all. 

Still, Azriel manages to wrangle the clearly unprofessional thoughts he’s having about Gwyn’s smile and incredibly soft red hair long enough to gesture for her to take a seat. When she’s settled before him, Azriel notes that the freckles on her cheeks are dotted along her hands, and he’s tempted to see what constellations he can form. But his thoughts zip back to her eyes when she squints down at one of the tattoos that circle his bicep. It’s one of the oldest ones, made of six gothic letters and placed where a sleeve could easily obscure it. 

“Azriel,” Gwyn reads. “Is that your name or your boyfriend’s?”

Az chokes on some strangled noise between a gasp and a laugh. 

“Mine. Tattooing the name of your lover on your arm breaks the first rule in the book,” he replies with a chuckle.

“No wonder I didn’t come prepared. I didn’t read the book.” Humor glints her eyes, and Az is relieved to see that she’s relaxing in her seat. “I work in a library. Think we have it in the collection?” 

Holy gods, Azriel curses to himself. Just what higher power did he please to send this woman into his shop on the coldest day of the year? This woman who knows how to crack jokes and chooses to be unbearably kind at her own expense. This beautiful creature who spends her days in a quiet library, but who braved coming into his shop to be more exciting than anyone maybe bargained for. Maybe a better question is, what higher power had he pissed off? Because if he tattoos something small on her and he never sees her again... 

“Oh my god, is there really an actual book?” Gwyn whispers when he doesn’t answer. 

Azriel laughs, catching himself off guard so strongly it almost hurts his lungs. 

“No, there isn’t a book,” he promises. “I try to talk people out of tattooing any names that aren’t their children or dead relatives.” 

It isn’t the softest way to put it, but it’s honest. Gwyn seems to appreciate this, twisting her hands in her lap thoughtfully. 

“What do you suggest instead?” 

Azriel shifts in his seat, his focus entirely on Gwyn. 

“That depends. What did you come in here to get done?” 

The words Gwyn wants to say get trapped in her teeth, and she tries to reform them on her tongue, but swallows them back. Azriel doesn’t know how to encourage her, how to let her know that she can share whatever she’s ashamed to say and that it won’t affect his opinion of her. He decides to give her silence and space. To allow her to choose how adventurous she wants to be. He expects her to be embarrassed about the subject matter or the placement, but when she does finally make her quiet admission, it sends his heart into his stomach. 

“Last year, my twin sister and I made a pact to get the same tattoo. We were going to get each other’s names. But uh, we were attacked in our home. She didn’t make it and I...” Her gaze drops to her open hands as she swallowed. “I have quite a bit of scarring. I wanted a tattoo to cover it up so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore and have that reminder of what I’ve lost. I thought maybe if the sensation of getting the tattoo might be a good one to replace the one that’s there. But, uh... The scar is too big for just her name. And saying it all out loud, I just feel silly.” 

Azriel knows exactly what she doesn’t need to hear. She doesn’t need to hear that he’s so sorry for her loss, that people come in all the time to cover up all sorts of traumatic scars, that being attacked probably hurt more than getting tattooed would. 

Instead, he simply offers her his hands. At first, she takes them, unsure of what he means to do with them, until he twists them over so that the back of his palm is facing up. 

“Look closer,” he says. And she does. 

His hands are nearly covered in ink, but underneath the dark grays and smooth blending of colors is rough skin. Gwyn’s fingers sweep over the healed flesh, grazing the rough patches with such tenderness, Azriel almost shivers. 

“I’ll be honest, scar coverups don’t always make for perfect tattoos. You can see here how some of this scar doesn’t actually disappear. Sometimes the skin is so fragile that it actually damages the skin more. But if you want, I can take a look and see if a cover up is possible?” 

Determination fills Gwyn’s eyes and she’s already rolling up her sleeve. Azriel is careful to keep his face perfectly neutral as the scar reveals itself, but Gwyn stiffens under his attention. 

“No one else has ever seen it before,” she explains when he tries to give her a reassuring look that turns out a bit pained. Azriel only nods, finding that his tactic of “silence and neutrality” is working. 

“May I?” he asks quietly. Gwyn offers her lower arm, allowing Azriel to see the placement up close. He only touches sensitive flesh for just long enough to determine that the coverup would be successful if he took his time and let the skin heal between sessions. 

“Well?” she murmurs nervously. Her foot taps, as if she’s ready to pull her arm back and roll her sleeve back down. But she holds her arm completely still until finally Azriel releases it. 

“It’ll tattoo.” Gwyn immediately relaxes at the news, pressing her lips together in a tight smile. “If you tell me what you had in mind, I can start sketching it out?” 

Gwyn shakes her head, her smiling widening. 

“I...I really didn’t get that far, to be honest!” she laughs, joy dancing in her eyes. “I expected to chicken out way before we got here. Or at the very least, pass out at the thought of the needle.” 

“You’re made of tough stuff,” Azriel says, warmth reaching every consonant he spoke. 

“Let me come up the design myself to start with,” she insists eagerly. “Then you can have it and edit it to your heart’s content. But I have about a million ideas and I think I need some time to narrow them down to just one. And then I should, you know, actually schedule a real appointment instead of just walking in.” She peers down at her watch. “It’s twenty minutes past your closing time. Fuck, Azriel, I’m sorry.” 

“Twenty minutes well spent,” he promises. 

There’s something about the way her eyes light up, something about that dimple and the freckles around it that put Azriel completely and utterly out of his mind. Maybe that’s why he continues, “Actually, you and I can meet up sometime and...talk about the tattoo? You talk, I sketch? Maybe over coffee?” 

For a second, Az fears that she’s going to shrink back and find some other tattoo artist in town who won’t flirt shamelessly with her. But the only thing he detects on her lovely face is sheer delight, as if she’s incapable of hiding a single thing she’s feeling. It’s a relief—to know she wants to see him again just as much as he wants to see her. 

“That...that sounds perfect, Azriel. I’ll need all the help I can get.” 

She’s bundled back up and halfway out the door when she throws him one last warm smile. Azriel returns it, feeling the back of his neck warm.

“The library is just down the block if you ever want to talk about things that aren’t tattoo related. I’ve been known to bring extra snacks with me to work in case my friends get hungry.” She points a finger in his direction, and the heat on his neck creeps up to his cheeks. “That includes you now. Bye, Az!” 

This time as she drifts up the sidewalk, she peers in through that icy window and offers a wave. Azriel stares at the spot long after she’s gone, picturing the fiery red of her hair and the sun through the clouds that melted it to gold.

_______

Thanks for the ask anon! I hope it lived up to your expectations! (Send me an AU and I’ll make a small edit for it + write a headcanon or short drabble to go with it!)