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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year ago

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Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak.

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!"

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak.

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me.

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

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mcflymemes · 3 months ago

Text

INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE (1989) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

i hate these guys.

this is a new experience for me.

it happens to me all the time.

you lost today, [name]. but that doesn't mean you have to like it.

may we go home now, please?

i've got a lot of fond memories of that dog.

he sticks out like a sore thumb. we'll find him.

does anyone here speak english?

what are you hiding?

archaeology is the search for fact, not truth.

forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the world.

we do not follow maps to buried treasure, and "x" never... ever marks the spot.

70% of all archaeology is done in the library. researching. reading.

we cannot afford to take mythology at face value.

help me get us out of here.

are you kidding? i made all that up.

she talks in her sleep.

try not to talk.

give me your other hand. i can't hold on.

i can get it. i can almost reach it.

[name], let it go.

those people are trying to kill us.

i didn't know you could fly a plane.

our situation has not improved.

i'm as human as the next man.

i'm like a bad penny, i always turn up.

throw down the gun or the girl will die.

no! don't shoot!

please do what he says!

[name], what are you doing here?

head for the fireplace!

why are you sitting there resting when we're so near the end?

don't look at me like that.

i would have done anything to get it. you would have done the same.

i'm sorry you think so.

i'll never forgive myself.

thank god... it's fake.

look, can we discuss this later?

i came here to save you!

look what you did! i can't believe what you did!

i'll never forget how wonderful it was.

you have chosen wisely.

did you intend to leave us standing on the doorstep all day?

now look, i've gone and caught a sniffle.

don't take that tone with me!

this is the second time i've had to reclaim my property from you.

that belongs in a museum.

why are you trying to kill us?

my soul is prepared. how's yours?

what have you brought?

i'm sorry about your head. i thought that you were one of them.

you came back for the book?

is that what you think of me?

who gives a damn what you believe?

follow me. i know the way.

i find that if i just sit down to think... the solution presents itself.

in this sort of race, there's no silver medal for finishing second.

we didn't talk. we've never talked.

what are you complaining about?

you could go down in history.

you're going the wrong way.

the pen is mightier than the sword.

are you crazy? don't go between them!

my reputation preceeds me.

it would make me very happy.

shooting me won't get you anywhere.

we're well out of range.

you call this archaeology?

we are on the verge of completing a quest that began almost two thousand years ago.

we're just one step away.

since i've met you, i've nearly been incinerated, drowned, shot at, and chopped into fish bait.

we're caught in the middle of something sinister here.

you're a great deal like your father.

how dare you kiss me.

leave me alone. i don't like fast women.

you say this has been just another typical day for you, huh?

you're meddling with powers you can't possibly comprehend.

if only i could have been there with you.

#rp meme #mcflymemes #rp memes #roleplay memes #rp prompt #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #indiana jones

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soldiersslut · 3 months ago

Text

GHOST OF YOU — SOLDIER BOY "CHAPTER TWO"

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language, herogasm, canon violence, Soldier Boy being himself and a smartass

Word Count: 3,649

Author's Note: I am so happy to see this story receiving so much love already. It really helps and pushes me further to continue with the story. There is so much I have planned, but all in due time. Thank you so much again!

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED PLEASE LET ME KNOW. DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW, HEART, AND REPOST. THANK YOU AGAIN!

It was obvious you were exhausted, it was so bad to the point you did not hear everyone else wake up and talk about the plan for the day. Eventually, Butcher left to find food. Hughie was left in charge to control Soldier Boy and his radiation level. The less angry, the better. Soldier Boy remained on his side of the bed and watched TV. From time to time he would look down at you.

“Is she always a heavy sleeper?” he asked. Hughie looked up from his phone and observed.

“Yesterday was a hard day so I don’t blame her for sleeping in.”

Soldier Boy nodded and still stared. “I remember when I first met her, man, she was a firecracker. Nothing could get past her. It’s surprising to see her sleeping so peacefully like this.”

Hughie furrowed his eyebrows together. “I’m sorry, you two know each other?” That made no sense to Hughie. Last time Soldier Boy had awaken was back in the 70s. You weren’t even born yet.

“Are you stupid or fucking stupid? Of course I have. We served—” and on cue, Butcher entered with food. Hughie looked down at the radiation reader and realized it had gone up once again. Maybe it was best if Hughie doesn’t bring it up again. Though he will mention it to Butcher when they are alone.

Butcher dropped the food on the table and shook you to wake up. “Morning sunshine, get up and eat. I am going to head back out again in a bit to find the twins’ location.”

You opened your eyes and rubbed them. The sun was hitting your face and it was bothering you.

“I need a shower first,” you said. Quickly, you strode to the bathroom and locked the door. You stared at yourself in the mirror expecting to see bruises but there was nothing. The water pressure was not as strong as you would like it to be, so it took a bit longer than the normal shower time to finish. You were able to overhear everything and constantly rolled your eyes at Soldier Boy’s arrogant voice.

Soldier Boy was already becoming a headache, and you have yet to hold an actual conversation with him. The few moments you have heard him speak has been cruel and perverted.

He’s also suffered betrayal.

You sighed and wondered what else did Soldier Boy have inside his pandora box. He is unpredictable, and that made him dangerous. When the water began to run cold you knew it was time to get out. You dried off and put on the same clothes from yesterday.

Butcher had announced he had a contact who will be able to get him the TNT twins location.

“I am going with you.”

The more you avoided Soldier Boy the better. Last night’s words were still at the forefront of your mind and as much as you would like to ask him right now he is short-tempered and your attitude from last night hasn’t helped.

“Why the fuck can she go, but I cannot?” Soldier Boy demanded to know. You beat Butcher to the punch and rebutted back.

“Because you are Soldier Boy and at any moment anyone can recognize you. The last thing we need is you blowing up again and taking us down with us. So shut up, eat your food, and let us get to work.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched. “You got a lot of fucking nerve talking to me that way. Last time I remember the men used to put women in their place. When the hell did society go wrong.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. Soldier Boy was a lot of things and maybe it should not be shocking he is being a misogynistic prick, but the fact he still thinks society has not moved on from that. “And you still wonder why you aren’t coming with us?”

That was the last thing you said before marching out of the room. Butcher wanted to ease the tension in the room, “might be that time of the month.” He left and followed you to the car. You were already inside with your arms cross.

“Don’t even think about making me apologize to him,” you warned.

Butcher let out a groan, “I won’t make you apologize but you need to butter it up with him. At the rate you are going he is going to bloody blast you. Do not let him get to you.”

You went on a rant after that.

“How do you expect me to not say anything to him? I am not going to worship the ground he walks on. If he wants respect then he needs to give it back.” Butcher agrees, but they need to be prioritizing the bigger picture and that is Homelander’s death in the hands of Soldier Boy.

Bucher decided to switch topics and discuss who was his contact. It is a C-list Supe who was friends with the twins before they were apart of Payback. The drive was over within an hour. “Let me do the talking, last thing we need is for you to make another enemy.”

If that was Butcher’s way to humor, he sucked. The Supe had no problem in giving away the location of the twins. On the drive back you decided to voice your concerns.

“Did I tell you what Crimson Countess said before her death?”

Butcher shook her head. You explained what happened inside the trailer and shared your concern with the way Soldier Boy acts around you. Granted, he is a dick but he allows you to talk to him the way you do. If it was anyone else he was quick to get offensive.

“Countess probably confused you with someone else. When you know you are at death’s door you are desperate to say anything, and with what you are telling me she was just trying to get under his skin,” he shrugged.

It still wasn’t convincing enough, “then why stare so fucking much?”

Butcher let out a chuckle. “Be serious, he’s been asleep since the 80s. He probably wants to pull his wanker and let one out at the thought of you.” You looked at him terrified.

He began to laugh just looking at your reaction. In the end you were convinced that it was all in your head and the answers were right in front of you. Upon returning Butcher informed Soldier Boy and Hughie that we will be heading out to Vermont.

Most of the conversation happened between Butcher and Hughie. You were sitting in the back with Soldier Boy and just like before, your knee touched his. Only difference this time is his hand was resting on his knee and his pinky reached out to touch your knee.

The car was parked a good distance away to avoid detection. The rest was walked on foot. “So, what is happening here?” you asked. Hughie looked through the binoculars and to both of your surprise this was herogasm.

Soldier Boy took pride in admitting that he founded it, and Liberty helped him with it. Your scrunched up face was obvious and he took notice. He smirked for a second and focused back the task at hand.

“Just give me three minutes,” Hughie suggested.

“I can go with him to cover more ground,” you offered yourself.

Soldier Boy shook his head. “Absolutely not. You are going to sit this one out.”

For a moment it felt like a vein popped on your temple. “The hell you mean I am staying here? I am not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself and the sooner we finish this the better.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched again and he got closer. He towered over you. “Trust me, sweetheart, with the way you are speaking to me I wouldn’t want to save you. Honestly, where the fuck did this attitude come from?” he snapped.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that you are the problem?”

Hughie interrupted, “I’m just gonna go.” In seconds, he was gone and without his clothes.

You were too angry to argue with Soldier Boy, let alone look at him. Those three minutes felt too long. After time has passed, Butcher and Soldier Boy left to infiltrate.

“Stay,” Soldier Boy ordered and pointed his finger. The binoculars were handed it to you. You faked a smile and watched them leave. Like hell you were going to stay. As soon as they walked through the doors to the house you were on the move. Instead of entering through the front door you went through the pool door. You have seen a lot of things, but never in your mind would you have ever imagined a Supe orgy.

You did your best to avoid everything and everyone. The last thing you needed is to give someone the wrong impression, and anger Soldier Boy.

It was surprising to see one area of the house empty.

“MM,” you said, shocked to see him here. He was also shocked, but he knew that meant one thing. He called out to you demanding to know where Soldier Boy was. You explained the plan and noticed his eyes diverted behind you.

“One simple fucking order, you cannot even handle that?!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere at this point. Slowly, you turned and noticed just how angry Soldier Boy appeared. Though, between him and MM you weren’t sure who was angrier. Without wasting a second MM threw the halothane glass and Soldier Boy inhaled it in as if it were a Marlboro cigarette.

“MM, no!” you yelled, and tried to push him back but he was determined to fight Soldier Boy.

Butcher had to come in and stop Soldier Boy from proceeding further. He gave Soldier Boy the information he wanted.

“You are coming with me,” he ordered and yanked your arm; dragging you with him.

“Let go of me!” you yelled and started hitting him, but he was not budging. Both of you came to a stop in one of the living rooms and noticed the horribly aged TNT twins. Why is he so keen in taking you everywhere.

Crimson Countess was able to remain cool and calm partially, but these twins screamed guilty based on their reaction and stuttering. It was obvious how they tensed up almost to the point they froze on the spot.

“Holy shit, mimicry! You’re alive!” Tessa spoke up, sounding a little too excited. She opened her arms expecting some hug from you and she even dared to move closer. Soldier Boy stood in front of you.

“Don’t you dare come near her or I will rip those fucking arms off of you” he threatened.

Tessa backed up right away.

“What is she talking about? Who is Mimicry?” you asked. You placed your hand on Soldier Boy’s shoulder; trying to get him to move out of the way. Soldier Boy looked at your hand placement and then looked at you. This was his moment to test out his theory and ask once again who exactly are you.

“You’re Mimicry,” Tommy answered and let out a light but nervous laugh as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Mimi, please help us. Tell Ben that all of this was a mistake and we didn’t mean any of it.”

At this point the twins might as well get on their knees and beg. You could feel Soldier Boy tense up under your touch. You looked at him and noticed his behavior was completely off. He was no longer portraying a confident soldier. This time, you can see a man attempting to fight off his demons.

“The hell is wrong with you?” you asked. You stood in front of him and tried to make him snap out of it. The twins saw an opportunity and aimed for your back. Soldier Boy noticed and pushed you out of the way. You hit the wall and went unconscious.

When you woke up you had the biggest headache, and your back was sore. You remembered what happened before and quickly got up from the floor. People were crying, screaming, and there was lots of bodies everywhere. You let out a sentence full of profanities and walked around. Soldier Boy was nowhere seen, neither was anyone else.

You called out to Butcher, Hughie, and MM. Shit, you even called out to Soldier Boy. From a distance you could hear fists connecting to bones, bodies hitting the walls, buzzing sounds, and just a lot of fighting. You didn’t even have to say anything to see who was fighting. Your eyes went wide at the sight of the familiar United States cape fighting against Butcher and Soldier Boy.

Soldier Boy was thrown to the ground while Homelander choked Butcher. He raised him up from the ground.

“Hey!” you yelled, without giving it a second thought. You pulled out your gun from its holster and started shooting at Homelander. It was expected the bullets were not going to hurt Homelander but it is a big enough distraction he didn’t choke Butcher to death. Just as you predicted, Homelander dropped Butcher to the ground and turned to look at you.

Homelander burst out laughing, “and what exactly can a human do against me?” Without a second thought his eyes glowed red and aimed at you. It was instinctual to try and use your arms to block off the lasers, but they were not going to do shit against him. You had closed your eyes expecting the worse but nothing came your way. You opened your eyes and they went wide to see Soldier Boy in front of you, and holding off the laser with his shield.

“Not a damsel in distress, huh?!” he asked. Of course he had to be a smartass. “Listen to me for once and hide!”

You knew better now than to get in the way. This time you did listen to him and ran out. You were out of breath by the time you got outside. Annie called out to you. “We need you, there’s a lot of people hurt!”

This was the best thing to do. This is what you were good at. Without a second thought you began to help people as much as you can all until ambulances showed up and took over. Loud, shattered glass can be heard above and you looked up to see Homelander leaving in a rush. A wave of relief washed over you. Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie walked out. Soldier Boy was looking through the crowd until he saw you.

You knew there was no fighting him in staying. You looked at Annie and MM. They were both frustrated at the thought of you leaving.

“I’m sorry,” you said and walked towards the other group. Soldier Boy was satisfied and all four of you left. They explained what happened with Homelander.

“I’m still waiting on the thank you.”

This was unavoidable, and it was tempting to roll your eyes but now was not the appropriate time.

“You will get your thank you when I feel like it,” you mumbled knowing he heard you.

Soldier Boy scoffed and shook his head. “Fuck! Nothing I do satisfies you!”

“Will you two give it a rest?! It has been a very long day” Butcher protested, obviously irritated.

“You want a thank you, fine! Thank you, Soldier Boy. Thank you for actually being a hero and saving someone. What would we ever do without you?” you sarcastically spoke.

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched, “you know what, fuck you and I hope your pussy dries up every time some guy wants to screw you.”

“And I hope you get STDs.”

The car ride fell into a tensed silence. You nor Soldier Boy could say anything without provoking each other. Hughie asked Butcher where they will be going for the night, and there is only one place Butcher could think of.

The Legend.

It was approximately a five to six hour car ride. You were trying hard to not fall asleep but it was inevitable. Now that you were not on a fight or flight mode your body began to ache, and it demanded rest. By the time they arrived to Legend’s home you were in deep sleep. Hughie tried to wake you up.

“Let her sleep. She sounds better like this” Soldier Boy said.

He didn’t wait for Butcher or Hughie to say anything. He put the shield on his back and walked around the car to open your door. He opened it and caught you in his arms. You were so deep asleep you didn’t realize Soldier Boy had lifted you in his arms and carried you inside as if your the weight of paper.

Butcher knocked hard on the door. It was the middle of the night and they needed a place to rest. Legend was more asleep than awake when he heard the knock. He was ready to yell at whomever was waking him up at this hour but seeing Soldier Boy carry you in his arms, it was like deja vu.

“It has been a very long, and shitty day. Where can I put her down?” Soldier Boy asked. Legend was too shocked to say anything. It’s impossible for you to be alive. Butcher snapped Legend out of it and pointed to where the bedrooms are located. When Butcher, Hughie, and MM came to visit you weren’t with them.

“I need a drink,” Legend said.

“At this hour?” Hughie asked, sounding concerned.

Legend nodded and poured himself a drink all the way to the top. Soldier Boy walked out of the room where he placed you down, and marched towards Legend with purpose.

“Wait—” Soldier Boy did not give Legend a chance to speak. He grabbed him and lifted him up from the ground, slamming him against a wall. Butcher and Hughie rushed to get Soldier Boy off of Legend.

“I swear to you, Mimicry is dead! That isn’t Mimicry! It’s impossible!” Legend explained, fear can be heard in his tone.

“You’re lying! How is she here then?!”

Soldier Boy was angry, he was practically seeing red. Flashes of Mimicry’s body appeared in his mind. She died in his arms and yet, she is here.

“Because that isn’t her! I don’t know how it is possible but Vought retrieved Mimicry’s body from Russia. There was an open casket ceremony! I went and she got buried with her suit! I saw when they put her on the ground!”

Finally, Soldier Boy put Legend down.

“Can someone explain what the bloody hell is going on?!” Butcher was angry. Something was going on and everyone appears to be afraid to say something.

“You will not understand because Vought deleted everything about Mimicry, but she was a member of Payback for the longest time. She was Soldier Boy’s right hand and possibly the most loyal one to him. She died trying to break this one out of Russia. The Russians told Vought what happened and Vought believed the safest thing to do was to make everyone forget about her. Nowadays, no one knows she ever existed.”

The Legend moved to one of the drawers. He opened it and looked through it until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to Butcher.

“Holy shit,” said Hughie. Butcher and Hughie were speechless. It was you and Soldier Boy. His hand was around your waist, holding you close, and your arm was on his waist. The cameraman caught the perfect moment of the both of you staring into each other’s eyes. There was a smile on your face. It was the definition of a woman in love.

Legend continued to speak, “the person in the room is not Mimicry, unless she has demonstrated any superpower. That is not her.”

For Soldier Boy it felt like someone ripped through his chest and held a tight grip on his heart. The more Legend spoke, the more it got twisted.

“What were Mimicry’s powers?” Butcher asked.

“She was able to get any Supe’s power with a touch. Including my own,” Soldier Boy answered. This time he poured himself a drink.

“It still doesn’t make any sense. She is human, and obviously Mimicry isn’t. We have seen pictures of her growing up and having a normal life. She has never shown any powers” Hughie explained.

“The woman in the room isn’t Mimicry.” Soldier Boy had been in denial of it but he remembered your hand on his shoulder back at herogasm, and yet there was no display of power.

“If this isn’t Mimicry, how is it she looks exactly like her? Did Vought clone her?” Hughie and Butcher had so many questions.

Legend shook his head, “if they were going to start cloning Supes I would have heard something by now. Truthfully, there is no explanation. Almost as if God and heaven, or even the devil, wanted to give Mimicry another chance at life. She always dreamed of a family, sadly it was taken away from her. She had a baby and that baby lived, and so on. What I can guarantee is that she is from Mimicry’s lineage.”

Soldier Boy stared out the window with the cup on his hand. Once again he felt himself lied to. He was being given something back, and now it feels like it got taken from him.

Your entire existence is a sick and twisted lie, and he despises you for carrying her face. He is reminded every time he has to look at you.

“This has never happened before with any Supes ever. Word is barely spreading that Supes can have babies when Mimicry was the first to ever have one a long time ago. If Vought finds out about her existence,” Legend warned and pointed to the room where you continued to sleep, “they will come for her.”

Next Chapter: Chapter Three

Author's Note: Phew! A lot got unpacked and I hope it is making sense! We will be speeding through the end of season three (with a few changes) in one or two chapters, and afterwards it will be my take of season four and further on. Thank you so much again for all the love and support!

Tagged List: @seven709 @sadpods @mayafatimakhan @deans-spinster-witch @justiceforquentin @ultracarpediemfan @bitchykittenconnoisseur @spacecowgirl126

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #the boys series

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flagellant · 1 year ago

Note

Have you talked at all about your feelings about Barbie? Cause what little I've seen seems to like up with my feelings on it and it feels weird to be surrounded by unbridled praise or MRAs hating on it because it's Girly™️

At the end of the day Barbie was only ever going to be able to be just a Barbie movie. At the end of the day Mattel paid Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling more than $10,000,000 to be Stereotypical Barbie and Ken. At the end of the day Mattel's stock price has risen to more than 20 dollars per share, more than double in the past two years. At the end of the day Mattel wanted Greta Gerwig to make them a movie that would make the most people possible want to buy more Barbie-branded things. At the end of the day Mattel would only have released a "new breakup movie" if that press was considered more profitable. At the end of the day, Barbie is a story that wants to sell you Barbie, and therefore it cannot have a message which would distract from selling you Barbie. At the end of the day the Mattel CEO and board go back to the real world having learned no valuable life lessons beyond "Listening to a Mexican woman can make you major profit margins". At the end of the day the mother and her daughter have learned the valuable life lesson that the only way the world will pay any attention to the banality of your suffering is if you can sell it to a lot of young girls. At the end of the day Ken's friend Allen is never allowed to be a Ken (man) and therefore is constantly associated with, but never as, the Barbies (women), and no one seems to question this nor care. At the end of the day, all of the Barbies learn that in order to defeat the patriarchy you must be emotionally manipulative and flirty-but-in-an-evil-way. At the end of the day Barbie tells a story about biological essentialism and battle-of-the-sexes in a bright pink #Empowering way and Margot Robbie cries several times. Kens are told that they are "not 'just' Kens" but also that the reason that they sought out the comfort of patriarchy--the idea that their masculinity and manhood was something to be cherished and respected just as much as a Barbie's femininity is, and that they were not lesser or greater than each other--will not be addressed as anything more than a hilarious Gotcha meta-laugh about how at the end of the day women still don't have rights in any meaningful way no matter how empowered they are under the current system. The conflict built around having no vocabulary to describe the complex and difficult emotions that these dolls have been going through has been resolved by ending the movie before resolving or questioning this. At the end of the day the Kens are villains and jokes, and as the credits roll, we can be safe in knowing that absolutely nothing has changed and all of this will happen again in the exact same ways.

In the movie Barbie, at the end of the day, Ken asks to sleep over at Barbie's Dream House for the night, and she tells him no, because it is Girl's Night, every night, forever. We see the Barbies go to sleep with Stereotypical Barbie saying, "Good night, Barbies! I'm definitely not thinking about death anymore!" This is very funny, and she goes to sleep and then wakes up feeling probably about how I do every morning, which is supposed to be relatable.

At the end of the day, in the movie Barbie, we see Ken walking away from Stereotypical Barbie's deathless and eternal slumber party dejected and alone. He is walking to the exit of the Barbie Dreamhouse Neighborhood. We do not see if he gets to go to sleep in his own house. We, in fact, see quite a lot which implies he is homeless and goes to sleep on the beach, which I was forced to do when I was 18 in Santa Cruz in one of my first attempts to escape a toxic and abusive household. I still remember the way that the sea can rot when trapped by wooden pier foundations, covered in mildew-wet seafoam, old kelp from the high tide, and the way that when I got up the next morning you could see exactly how I'd fallen asleep like an old-school chalk outline of where a corpse was.

At the end of the day, in the movie Barbie, what the Kens wanted revolved around having their own homes that they could go to sleep in and fill with things that made them happy just like how the Barbies did. This is supposed to be a symbol of patriarchy, because they corrupted the femininity of the Dream Houses, and that is bad. When the Barbies win, at the end of the day, the Dream Houses go back to being Dream Houses, and we still have never once seen any sign that the Kens had houses, and the movie assures us that if they don't, then "maybe someday" they might have enough societal power to be able to try and fight for a house that they're allowed to own and have be theirs, something that women in Western society have only quite relatively recently gained the permission and possibility to do, and Barbieland is basically the same as the real world but with the "two" genders switched.

At the end of the day, if I try to actually analyze the Barbie movie as a bioessentialist antifeminist and anti-intersectional regressive film which glorifies the thinnest possible shred of pro-capitalism feminism possible, I'll sound like a fucking lunatic, because it's just a stupid movie about dolls made to sell you Barbies, and of course it would never be anything but bioessentialist pro-capitalist toothless brand bullshit which wants you to think that Margot Robbie and wearing pink are the peaks of antipatriarchal activism. At the end of the day, Celluloid Barbie can only exist because Mattel thinks Celluloid Barbie would make its brand a lot of money, and not because it actually cares about the anti-ageing fatphobic standards of Western womanhood, because Mattel is a brand which can care about nothing except being a machine which you put money into and in exchange pink plastic bullshit comes out.

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year ago

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

Warnings: SMUT!! and also BAD WRITING!! TYPOS AS WELL PROBABLY!! BUT MAINLY THE SMUT!!!

Word Count: 21.5K (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 159 pages single space of reading.)

A/N: Here it is. The finale of my heartfelt daydream, laid bare for you all to see. I hope you've enjoyed the ride: the road ends here.

GIF: @gavidaily (i've been waiting since part 1 to use this mf gif)

Previously on Just Pretend

"Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises."

"You're late. It's 6:45." "Good morning to you too, Gavira."

Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else.

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."

"I don't hate you. I think."

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 won't let him talk to you that way anymore."

"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.

"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

"My heart, doctora. When I give it to you, please keep it. Forever."

Now...

"Miss y/l/n, due to the... historic lack of women in the club, we do not have internal policies regarding relationships between players and employees. We just use the ones that La Liga as a whole have put in place. Those are quite forgiving, in my opinion. You can enter a romantic workplace relationship as long as it is appropriately disclosed, and you cannot be terminated as a result of that relationship ending. I saw the photo of you being pulled onto the field during the final of the Supercopa. Do you mean to tell me it was not with romantic intent?"

You had never experienced more severe whiplash in your life. First, you had been reprimanded for being too close to Pablo, for showing what Xavi classified as 'favoritism', as it hurt the team dynamic. Then you had been ridiculed by staff and players for allegedly sleeping with Pablo, and had been told you could be fire for doing so even if it was a bold faced lie. And now, months later, you were being told that it was not only okay for you to be in a relationship with Pablo, but you literally couldn't lose your job if you did? Someone in the family must have been praying for you. Or for Pablo. Was Pedri religious?

"Dr. Gonzalez, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Gavi and I are just friends. Not even - we're just coworkers that get along well! There was no romance happening anywhere on the field."

And it was true. Well, sort of. You couldn't speak for Gavi's intention, but you would bet that he hadn't meant to do anything that could be perceived as romantic. Not only was he incredibly shy when it came to anything to do with his private life, but moreover, you had started to toy with the idea that maybe you were wrong about Pablo. Maybe you had misread the signs. Maybe Pedri's stylist, who you now also so lovingly referred to as naranja, had only fed into your delusions instead of delivering the hard truth to you.

"He's in love with you, stupid."

That's exactly what she had said to you when you answered the question 'so are you close to Pedri?', stating that the things Pablo did for you were far from the actions of a friend. And she was right. Friends didn't need to be physically touching in order to have a peaceful night of sleep. Friends don't feel the need to always be near the other, unable to focus if one wasn't near. Friends certainly didn't imagine each other in compromising situations: shirtless, panting, trying so hard to control his throbbing- no. Friends certainly didn't imagine such scenes. Most of all, friends didn't find themselves in these intimate moments, the air thick with anticipation, where lips were centimeters from meeting, and seconds away from saying something that would change the dynamic forever. Well, at least that's what you thought. Maybe Naranja would be your friend long enough to see if these were truly just normal hallmarks of friendship (although Pedri might be a tad upset if the two of you started sleeping together). You're glad she offered her cellphone number to you.

But this was not the only opinion that was presented to you. You had been sitting on your couch one night, a rare evening when Gavi had promised to accompany Ansu to one hangout or another, his absence felt greatly. It had been weeks since you had a moment that wasn't filled by Pablo's voice, his laughter, his breathing as you completed an assignment while he scrolled through TikTok. There was an eerie silence to the house now, and you needed something to take your thoughts off of your maladaptive daydreams of Pablo laying on your couch, looking up at you through long lashes with a tender gaze. It was almost as if you could run your hands through his messed up brown locks, watching his eyes close as you massaged his scalp, feeling him lean more into your touch.That's all you wanted. Not even for Pablo to come to you with a grand confession of love, but just to be with him with no boundaries, no fear, no awkwardness. Just love and safety and the freedom to exist as you were. Together.

But there was no idle chatter or TikTok sounds to fill the silence, and so you had to do so yourself. You made yourself a delectable cup of tea, favorite mug warming your palm as you tried to balance your plate of snacks in the other. The camp nutritionists had been testing recipes all week, and had sent you home with some of the best food you had ever had, including a tupperware of cookies that could give those little Nestle birds a run for their money. Comfortable on the couch in that same black hoodie with the embroidered '6', you qued, rather ironically, He's Just Not That Into You (a great romcom, but not for people doubting if they're deserving of being loved). Your phone had lit up with a familiar name that you hadn't seen in months now.

"Angelika! How are you? How was fashion week? I saw the collection on Instagram. It looked stunning!"

Since her announcement about moving to Paris, you hadn't heard a peep from your 'best friend'. A mutual friend you ran into at the market had told you her move had been delayed until after the collection had shown at fashion week since the creative director had surprisingly quit, so everything was on ice until he was replaced. You had seen her collection on Diet Prada, not questioning why you hadn't seen the posts that she had made celebrating her work.

"Oh it was fabulous, and Alessandro just got replaced so Paris must be coming soon. I would have invited you, but I only got 6 invitations, and you're always so busy. Didn't want to have an empty seat."

She knew she had made a mistake when she saw your face on the screen drop. You had been the main supporter of Ang's career since you met her, and yet she didn't even bother sending you an invitation or seeing if you might be able to attend.

"Anyway, how have you been? What's new with you?"

You spoke briefly about school and work, before taking a deep breath and opening up the gnarly can of worms that was you and Gavi's current situation. You had no other people with enough context or who you felt comfortable enough with to reveal all your thoughts on the matter. All your hopes and dreams that he would sweep you off your feet. All your insecurities and fears that you had created something unhealthy, something that would dissolve into worse than nothing. No matter how you spun it, it was nice to have a friend, even if you had to ignore that you were walking a mile to see an inch in return.

Angelika listened rather silently to the entire series of events, asking one or two clarifying questions, but for the most part allowing you to monologue. When you finished speaking, you sighed rather dreamily and fell back into your couch, pulling your (Gavi's) hoodie closer around you. Sometime you forgot how much he had bulked up, until you were drowning in the shirts he had donated to you. Maybe there was something there. Now that Dr. G had confessed he thought you two were already in a relationship, the only missing piece was Pablo. You had tried to hint to him that, if he felt even the slightest affection towards you, he should go for it. Make the shot. The goal was empty - hell, the goalie would even guide the ball in for him. Had you been too subtle with your affections? Or had he purposefully ignored the brush of your lips on his throat in order to preserve your pride?

“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit delusional?”

Angelika’s statement was like a splash of ice water on your warm and fuzzy form. You looked at the FaceTime call like the woman on the screen in front of you had grown horns from her head.

“I’m … what?”

“Delusional. I mean it seems like you’re reading too much into his actions. So he what? Used you as his driver and let you keep a hoodie he got from the staff for free? Nothing super special.”

“But… but it wasn’t just that. He-“ She hadn’t even let you finish your sentence, not so subtly rolling her eyes, like she was so utterly bored with your story.

“Yeah, yeah, he punched your ex boyfriend who cheated on you. But I mean, cmon, you like, refused to fuck him. This is the second guy to cheat on you. Maybe it’s you, ha. And Gavi is literally just a raging teenager who has been looking to hit someone. I don’t think you should fly into your princess fantasies because he he finally lost his shit. And now you’re sleeping next to him every night and he’s waiting for you to give him some pussy. Better melt up quick, ice princess, before he gets tired of waiting.”

There it was again. The nausea. The head pounding. The vision blurring and room spinning. The sinking feeling that you were being betrayed by someone you had let in again. If you squinted your eyes a little, she might have even slightly resembled Martin.

“You… think he’s only being nice to me so that I’ll sleep with him?” You asked, voice soft and slow to hide the shake desperately wanting to emerge.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like there’s much else there. Now you look upset, but don’t be. I’m just telling you the truth so you don’t get hurt.”

“No, you’re just being a bitch.”

Your response seemed to have caught the both of you off guard. Your face had gone red with frustration, hands trembling with rage that you were desperately trying to quell. What a funny thing, rage. Feminine rage to be exact. The rage of men is common place in society - sort of like bullets. Everyone has heard a gunshot or seen what a bullet can do, in their personal life or on a screen. Male rage and fury is a normal part of life that everyone expects and respects. People bite their tongues hard enough to draw blood before they dare lash out at a man, fearful of sharp words and blunt fists. But feminine rage wasn’t a real threat. Oh no, it was more of a concept. A black and red Pinterest aesthetic in red and black, with pinups and devil horns and swirling script. It was only a danger to the self; a threat of implosion with no shrapnel to hit anyone else. A star dying, a mind shattering, as entertainment to those around. There was never an expectation for her to lash out and defend herself against those who poked at her until she bled. But should a cornered lioness cower in fear rather than attacking?

“What… what the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, what the hell is wrong with you, Angelika? All I’ve done since the day I met you is try and be there for you. All I’ve done is support you through everything - relationships, family drama, you’re entire fucking career! You had professors tell you that you would be a generic designer for H&M, and I was there for you. I was the only person with you at three in the fucking morning telling you that you could do better, that you could be amazing. I was a pincushion, a mannequin, a personal chauffeur to the fabric store. And I didn’t ever do these things because I wanted something in return. I genuinely cared about you and just wanted to see my closest friend succeed! But you couldn’t even pretend to care about this obviously one-sided relationship. All I ever was to you was a person to use when you needed and thrown away when you didn’t. I was preparing for my dream interview, my biggest career goal since I was a fucking child, and not only did you ‘forget’ to give me one word of encouragement, you asked me to be your fucking ride home! And you know what? I made my peace with it. I came to terms with the fact that you thought I was incompetent at my job because everyone seems to think I’m a physio ditz. But for you to call me the nickname people called me in college to objectify me, and then say all I’m worthy of is sex?!”

Angelika was now teary eyed and red in the face. She was shaking her head, unable to respond, acting like the spitting image of a deer caught in the headlights. She was now stumbling over her words, unable to string a complete sentence together.

“That’s … thats not true I didn’t say that.”

“No, that’s exactly what you just said. Don’t be a liar on top of being a shit person. You just said it was my fault I got cheated on by my last two partners. And now I’ve still decided to give you the benefit of the doubt after you straight up admitted to me that you didn’t think of me as one of the top six people in your happy moments. I’ve poured my heart out to you and you don’t even have the decency to lie! You either said that to purposefully hurt me, or you never cared enough to listen when I spoke. Either way, you’re just the last in a long line of people who I have let walk all over me.”

Your expression was steeled and icy. You hadn’t even raised your voice once during the entire exchange, remaining calm and level headed despite the deep cuts you had made in Angelika’s self-confidence. Your lips were downturned and brows knitted together, looking at her with all the loathing she had caused you to feel for yourself. It was hard to be alone, but it was better than being surrounded with people who convinced you that you would never be enough if you didn’t fit their mold. The girl on the other side of the FaceTime call was clearly experiencing every stage of grief all at once, unsure how to respond. She had gotten through the denial, and was knee-deep in the anger. But anger did not spark eloquence, sparking the simple response of,

“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”

And you could swear you saw genuine fear in her eyes as a bright, beaming smile spread across your face. Maybe you had never seen love, but you had seen friendship. You had seen that there were people ready to carry your entire world on their shoulders. And no matter how slowly, you were working to believe that you could be loved, even by yourself. The rage had evaporated and recrystallized as content. So you smiled sickeningly sweetly at Angelika, and gave her a heartfelt response.

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

Pressing the bright red button to end the call was one of the most satisfying things you had ever done in your life. The headache and nausea and ‘I want to die’ feeling that you usually had after a confrontation was nowhere to be found. Quite the opposite, actually. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your entire chest felt like it had more room for air. Was this what every day was like for people without anxiety? How glorious. Pressing play on Gennifer Goodwyne’s best work, you made a mental note to speak to a therapist the following morning. This felt amazing. You were genuinely smiling at… what exactly? The loss of a friend? No, no - liberation from someone’s foot on your neck. What new and exciting things could you do with this new found freedom, this fresh lease on life? Naturally, you did your favorite activity: picking up the phone and texting Gavi.

Gone were the days of Pablo wracking his brain for any excuse to email, text, or call you. It was almost funny how much he had to talk himself up, looking at his reflection and reiterating how much of a 'cool, suave guy' he was before typing out a very intelligent and eloquent 'hi'. Watching a series that he had no interest in initially just to have something to talk to you about that wasn't one of his leg muscles (no interest initially - now he was patiently waiting 4-6 weeks for his neon sign in the shape of the House Stark sigil). Now it was you who couldn't leave Gavi alone, using your messages to him as a pseudo journal, spewing your entire stream of consciousness into little blue bubbles.

[You]: PABLO

[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID

Locking your phone and resting it on your chest, you refocused on the chick flick illuminating the darkness of your living room, the device vibrating against you less than 30 seconds later. As much as you would like to pretend it was surprising to receive a response so quickly, this was the normal routine the two of you had created. One needed merely call out, and the other would come running.

[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small

[Pablito]: bcs pedri doesnt have a lot of space fr bodies in his car

There it was again: the giggling, the lip bite, the stupid half smile that made you look less like Cindy Crawford and more like the Grinch after Christmas was destroyed. But it was the natural way your body reacted to Pablo - like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boyband member in a brightly-colored magazine. Lord, how were you supposed to be normal around him? Oh how wonderful it would be to have even one inkling that Pablo reacted this way when he heard from you. But in your head, he was still Pablo Gavi with capital letters, who was standing ever so coolly with a beer in hand as he laughed with his other hot rich young athlete friends. You could never picture him as he truly was, shy and puppy-like, beer not even touched as he held his phone in one hand and twirling his hoodie string in the other. He bit down on his lip as well, eyebrows together as he waited for a response. Despite the relationship that had grown for the last six months, he still held his breath slightly when he saw the three little 'typing' dots float on his screen.

[Doctora]: i don't think i can convey the full force over text

[Doctora]: i can come over and explain it to you in person tho

"Guys, I think I need to leave." Pablo said abruptly, looking up at the group of boys, causing a record-scratch moment that abruptly ended the conversation. The heated conversation over whether the Drake curse was real had screeched to a halt, and now all four of the young Barca players were staring in disbelief.

"You haven't even been here for an hour. Where the hell could you need to be right now?" It was Alejandro who spoke up, the only one of the four who was not acutely aware of the fact that Gavi was borderline prepared to give up his entire career for you. He only had a mild inkling.

"Um... one of my friends is coming to my house and I'm going to meet them.''

"Who? We know all your friends. Who is coming over?" Ale asked, draping an arm over fellow La Masia baby Ansu, who smirked at the Sevillano as well.

"Yes, Pablito. Who is it? Ilias?" Ansu asked, obviously enjoying the bright red that seeped into Gavi's face.

"Or maybe Alvaro?" Ale seemed to be enjoying this too much, smiling brightly as Pedri tried to sip his beer without suffocating due to laughter.

"If it's one of the boys, then maybe we should come with you! Beers from the convenience store are cheaper anyways."

Pablo was sweating bullets. How could he say that he wanted to run home to hear what might possibly be the most mundane story about keeping houseplants alive?

"No, no it's... someone from back home. You guys wouldn't know her-HIM! You wouldn't know him." That may have been the worst save Pablo had ever made in his life, including the time his friends made his 5'0 self play keeper in a pick up match. Pedri finally lost the battle and spit out his beer, laughing loudly with the rest of the boys.

"Bro, why can't you just admit your massive crush on the doctor already. It's honestly getting a little tiring at this point. You've been in love with her for like three months now-" Ansu started, moving towards Gavi and clapping him on the shoulder before being interrupted by Pedri, who corrected,

"More like six months actually."

"Ah! There is no way!" Now Pablo was being ping-ponged between his two school friends, trying to keep himself from imploding from embarrassment.

"Why haven't you told her yet? Seriously now." Ale asked, pulling up a chair for himself and Pablo, the group sitting back down, conversation topic having changed into something juicier.

"You forget that he like stopped hating her and then she directly got a boyfriend, right?" Pedri said, signalling for another round of stellas to be brought over to the table.

"I don't think we should order another round. I was going to-" Pablo started, trying to nervously get up. Would he be able to find a taxi? Or should he just order an Uber? Neither possibility was explored as Pedri stuck his arm out and pushed him back into his seat, where he was now firmly locked in.

"Spill your guts. The quicker you talk, the quicker you can tell her to come over. I'll drive you home."

"Should you really be driving if you're going to be drinking?" Pablo asked cautiously as the four beers were placed on the table.

"oh, no, I'm done for the night. Two are for Ale and Ansu, and the other two are for you. For, ya know, confidence."

[Pablito]: u wnna met me at my hosue in an hours

The six minute pause between the 'Read' notification and the response from Pablo had worried you slightly. It was just enough time for the anxiety to seep into your bones. Did he find your desire to see him overwhelming and (God-forbid) clingy? Was he showing the message to Pedri & Co., laughing at your desperation? The misspelling made you even more worried. The spiral of thoughts was taking a sharp turn in the downwards direction. Was he even looking at his phone while typing? You didn't want to be a burden to him during one of the rare nights he could enjoy himself.

[Doctora]: are you sure? i don't have to come over if you're busy

"See now she doesn't want to come." Pablo said, now two beers deep with one more to go so that Pedri would let him leave.

"You're so stupid, Pablo. She wants you to want her to come over." Ansu said frustratedly. Pablo was trying to say as quickly as possible in between gulps what was stopping him from confessing his feelings to you. It had gone along the lines of,

"Well, first I thought I hated her, then I realized I was attracted to her as soon as she got an awful boyfriend, then we became like friends, I guess? Then I just kind of never wanted to ever be away from her. I had a hard time picturing a future that she wasn't a part of. Like, it started to make me have this weird aching feeling in my chest. And now I want to tell her all of this but she like, sees me as a friend and has had a shit time with her male friends and I don't want to permanently traumatize someone I love."

There was definitely more beer spit into the air and on the floor than there was in anyone's mouth.

"What did you just say?!" His too schoolmates echoed loudly, while Pedri just stared at him in a shocked state.

Pablo's brain was swimming in beer bubbles, unable to connect any dots and make intelligent, let alone sit and explain the process and intricacies of figuring out that he was, in fact, in love with you. So he ignored the question, asking rather for advice as to how he could get you to come over to his house.

"I don't think she needs that much convincing, seeing as you guys literally sleep beside each other for the majority of the week."

"Pedri, please. Enough details. You're just going to sit here and casually tell us the doctor has been in Pablito's bed repeatedly and he has yet to ask her on a date? I might collapse if I hear another shocking piece of information." Ale exclaimed, one hand over his heart as he leaned over, Ansu above him in what appeared to be genuine distress for his cardiac health.

"Pablo," Pedri started, sitting up in his seat and placing his elbows on his shoulders, obviously meaning business. "Now it's time to exercise that one petite little romantic muscle in your body."

"Isn't every muscle in his body petite?" Ansu braced himself for the punch in the arm that he received, but it was softer than previous attacks. Maybe the alcohol was really hitting him.

"Does it bother you that she asked to come over?"

"No!" Pablo responded quicker than his teammates thought possible. "I always want her to come over. She doesn't even need to ask. I would give her a key to the place if she wanted. Hell, I would sign the house over in her name. Do you think I could ask her to move in with me as friends?" His foggy brain registered the laughter, but didn't quite understand it. He would love for you to be in his house, walking through the door with you every evening, eating on the couch, fighting over the comforter and cuddling in the cold.

"See now that's... kind of a lot for a girl who doesn't know you have feelings for her. Which is a whole separate issue of oblivion that we can address later. Let's edit it down. Hand me your phone."

[Pablito]: never too busy for you. see you in an hour ;)

You stared at the wink on your screen with wide eyes. Had Pablo's phone been hacked? He had sent emojis before, but usually when he was making a cheesy joke or mocking someone else. This was ... well you actually couldn't say. Calling this behavior 'weird' would really make everything you two did, like cuddling and sleeping over and trauma-dumping, seem 'weird' as well. The only time he had ever been so outwardly flirty with you was when...

[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?

[Doctora]: I'm coming over to kick ur ass

"I think I got you in trouble." Pedri said, sheepishly handing back the device. Pablo groaned, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more strongly, head spinning and stomach churning at the thought of getting scolded by you. But something in him also burned at the idea of you getting worried about him when you weren't being paid for it.

"Alright boys, let's head out so Romeo can get back to the castle on time." Pedri ushered the three tipsy boys to the car, Ansu and Ale hunched over and giggling in the back, and Pablo slumped with a cheek pressed up against the passenger window.

"Wait! I just thought of something really important!" Ale practically yelled, leaning against the car in front of his place, Ansu waiting by the door to be let in for their own sleepover and gossip session (which may become a breakfast and gossip session given their current state).

"If the doctor tries to kiss him, will Pablo have to get on his tiptoes?"

The uproar of laughter was so loud it could be categorized as a public disturbance. Ale stood, mind foggy but genuine, watching Pedri clutch both the steering wheel and his ribs. Ansu was worse for wear, falling to his knees and gripping the sidewalk for dear life, all while Pablo gripped his head in pain and embarrassment.

"Ale, please, please open the door. I'm going to piss myself laughing from the mental image. Please, Ale."

"I'm actually taller than she is, just for everyone's information." The rebuttal was coupled with crossed arms and a pout.

"With or without shoes?" Ale's follow-up question set off another round of rambunctious laughter. Pablo was now properly tipsy and overly sensitive, and was ready to go home. Ale finally let go of the coop, preventing Ansu's public urination, and Pedri could finally make his way to Pablo's place. The green vehicle pulled into the driveway, and you followed just minutes later.

"Pedri, I'm worried."

The Canarian stared at the boy beside him. That's still what Pablo was. At his young age, he was bearing the back-breaking pressure of being the best right out of the gate, and soul-crushing weight of being in love. It was more than Pedri knew himself and many of his friends able to withstand. And though he understood the sentiment clearly, he asked anyways.

"What're you worried about?"

Pablo was many thing when he had a few drinks. He was noticeably louder, more vibrant and talkative. His usual shy self loosened up, and he was much more vulnerable. He did whatever he felt like: danced, flirted with women, made bets - anything he could imagine that would make him feel alive before the liquid courage wore off and he was back to silencing the bickering voices in his head.

"I'm worried that I'm going to say something stupid and scare her off."

"Ignore what people say online, hermano. You're not actually that scary." The giggle in return allowed Pedri to breathe a little easier. He tried to push away the twinge of guilt that reminded him he had been the one to pressure Pablo to drink, and he had been the one shoving this relationship forward at a faster pace than the participants may have liked.

"No I mean... even if the 1 in a million occurs and she gives me a chance, what if I come on too strong and kill it instantly? Can you come with me?" The request and the puppy-dog look both worked to catch Pedri off guard.

"Come with you to hang out with your girl?"

"You don't have to sit with us. You can fire up the PS5 and do whatever you want. But I won't tell her I want to grow old with her like the couple in The Notebook if you're in the house."

"You want to live out the plot of The Notebook with the doctora?"

"How did you know that?" Pablo asked with wide eyes, fully convinced that the older had read his mind.

"You just told me! How much alcohol did you actually have?" Pedri was now concerned. Could he not count? Pablo had only had three beers. He didn't remember him being such a lightweight, but it probably would explain a lot.

"Ugh, see! Pedri please, I need you. Just come with me!"

Before Pedri could protest again, a small knock was heard on Pablo's window, causing both the Barca boys to jump slightly.

"Ugh, fine. But only because your gameshock controller has never been thrown into a wall."

As the two stepped out of the car, your nose was instantly assaulted with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Pablo looked at you with a red face and slightly unfocused eyes.

"Doctora! Hey!" As he moved in to give you a hug, you stepped back from him, covering your nose with the sleeve of your (Gavi's) hoodie. You looked harshly at the boys, glare flipping between the two boys.

"I can't believe you asked me to come here while you're wasted. And you! What the hell do you think you're doing driving drunk?" You yelled, and Pedri ran forward to prevent the neighbors from hearing your misconception.

"I'm not drunk! I had one beer and waited more than an hour before driving. Pablo had three beers. We smell like shit because a waitress spilled a tray full of shots at the table. Let's continue arguing inside."

You looked at them skeptically, trying to find a smidge of deceit in either of their faces. Pablo approached you and draped an arm around your shoulder. Pressed up against you, it seemed like the smell of liquor dissipated, replaced by the last traces of his cologne and his own signature scent. Leaning down slightly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your nervous system.

"Come on, Doctora. You know I'd never lie to you. Come inside now. I need to get in the shower."

Speechless and wide-eyed, you were helpless to do anything but nod your head and be lead back inside the house that you had come to know so well.

"I'm going to get in the shower. I think it will help me sober up a bit. And help me stop smelling like Kettle One."

"Oh."

"Don't seem so disappointed, Doctora. I'll only be gone for five minutes. You can wait for me on the balcony; you won't even miss me. Or if you really can't be without me for a single moment, I have a very large shower."

You had stared at Gavi in shock for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to process how he was being so... unadulterated with you. It reminded you of that very first night in the club, when he had stared you up and down and commended Angel on his ability to pick girls.

"Wait you have a balcony?"

That's what lead to your current situation: sitting with your knees pressed to your chest, breathing in the early April Catalan air, and staring at the beautiful view from the window. The street was illuminated in a soft yellow glow, people roaming with hands held and laughs exchanged. The moon was full, shining its beauty down onto the street, painting everything a soft silver color that contrasted with the hazes of gold. It was one of those moments you wish you could trap between plates of glass and visit at a moment's notice. One of those moments that reminded you how far you had come. That dream, that life you had worked, cried, and prayed for - you were in it right now.

The glass door slid open behind you, ending the trance as Pablo stepped out with more blankets over one arm and two mugs in hand. You took them from him, hands warmed as he draped a blue and red blanket (his favorite, unbeknownst to you) around your shoulders. He wrapped himself in a pale yellow one and took his seat next to you, legs also by his chest as he retrieved his steaming mug. Taking a sip, the thick liquid coated your tongue, sweet and rich and reminiscent of childhood.

"So you can't even boil an egg correctly, but you know how to make perfect Chocolate Caliente while tipsy? How does that make any sense?"

Turning to you, he took a pause. The wind gently pushed your hair back, allowing the moonlight to fully illuminate your eyes, and his already hazy mind struggled not to just let himself drown in them. He was beginning to sober up, but it was nowhere near how he wanted to be in your presence.

"It was my favorite breakfast as a kid. My dad used to take Aurora and I to have them for breakfast on the weekends. When I came to Barcelona, I didn't really have anyone to take care of me like that anymore, so I learned to make it myself." Pablo hadn't meant for this to be a sad story, but apparently his tone came across as such, demonstrated by your scooching over to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. No matter the cause, he accepted the invitation to lean against you, sharing your body warmth.

"Must've been hard for you, moving here alone." Your voice was far off, as if spoken to a different person and in a different time. Flashes played in your mind of teary goodbyes and security gates, only one of your parents caring enough to drive you to the airport.

"You know what it's like," Pablo responded. "You did the same thing." He wanted to life his head and look at you, but you move first, resting your temple against his, slotting perfectly together like a teacup that had found its saucer.

"Yeah but I was 18. You were what? 11?" Your voice is still heavy with a burden that Pablo can't understand. His parents had gone with him when he first moved - and you knew that. They had only gone back to Sevilla when Gavi, shy and petite little thing that he was (and remains) told them he was fine to stay in the dorm. He had made friends quick and been praised for his football skills quicker. His parents were only two hours away, and visited semi-frequently. Life at La Masia had been Disney Channel-esque. So why did you speak about it with the same somber tone as old war stories?

"I hate that you say 'I was 18' like it was a thousand years ago, Doctora."

Pablo could feel your cheeks form a wide smile, and wrapped an arm loosely around your waist as you leaned deeper into his orbit. Of all the times the two of you had been cuddly, this was quickly becoming his favorite. Because he wasn't holding you like a secret, in the dark of night when all you wanted to do was pass out. He could see you, here in his arms of your own free will, not running away, but rather leaning in. He got to sweep the hair from your eyes, and if he focused hard enough, the dull beat of your helping the tension dissipate from his bones.

It was moments like these when Pablo knew that he was wholly and completely in love. His heart didn't race around you anymore. It wa quite the opposite now: only when he was around you could his heart beat like it was intended. It felt full. Otherwise he was walking around with this tugging in his chest, begging him to drop everything and run to wherever you were. And once he arrived, he would tear the beating organ from his chest for you upon request. It was your property, anyways.

"But I was 18 like a century ago. I'm old and withered now Pablo. What you're doing now is taking care of the elderly."

His laugh in response made him fall forward, burying his head in your lap as you blushed profusely, laughter light and breathy as to not draw attention (or get him to move). His face pressed against one of your thighs, giggling a bit too hard at a very generic joke without a singular care in the world. He leans back slightly and places a kiss to your thigh, so quick and delicate you almost missed it.

"I'll always take care of you, Doctora. As long as you let me."

You couldn't bring yourself to speak at that moment, opting to instead bring a hand up to play with his hair. Gently, you wove your fingers through the locks, softly scratching at his head like the sleepy puppy he resembled in that moment.

Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.

"Remember the first time we met?"

"Vividly." The response came quickly and honestly from you, and you were banking on Pablo's slightly incapacitated state to prevent him mocking you. But it was one of those moments seared into your memory. The lights, the sweat, the deep urge to pull Pablo against you and kiss him until that perfect pout disappeared.

"You didn't think I was 18 then. It was a hard blow to my ego. I didn't want a pretty girl to think of me as a child. But now, I'm glad we met when we did."

Soft music floated in the air towards the balcony, the performers a few streets over finishing off the night with something soft and romantic to tug on the heartstrings of passing couples in hope of separating them from some Euros. Gavi lifted his head, body following shortly as he stood. He held out a hand to help you to your feet as well. "Come and dance with me." Rising, Pablo never released your hand from his, pulling you in as close as possible, keeping you pressed to him with one arm. He began swaying and you followed his lead, now your turn to rest your head on his shoulder and simply enjoy the euphoria of being in his arms. His breath was next to your ear, raising the flesh on your neck with every exhale, before finally saying,

"Because in the future when we're real senior citizens, I get to tell people I've known you my entire adult life."

You faltered slightly, stopping Gavi in his tracks as he met your eyes. God, those eyes. If only you knew the power they had over a certain Sevillano.

"You think I'll still be around when you're an old man?" You asked, trying to stay light and airy and nonchalant as your heart hammered against the confines of your ribcage.

"Of course, Doctora. Where else would you be other than beside me?"

This was it. This was the moment. You were dancing on his balcony in his hoodie as he told you that he never wanted you to leave his side. This was the time to agree, to jump and have those strong arms catch you as you said those three words that could show you the gates of heaven or the depths of hell. You traced shaking fingers down one of his biceps, eyes meeting as with ragged breath you began.

"Pablo..."

The response was the sound of the glass door being shoved open, causing the two of you to jump a foot apart. Pedri stood there, cheeks flushed like when Xavi played him all 120 minutes.

"Pablito!! You had a case of beer in the fridge to reward me for being the DD!" This man was on another planet, bringing you back down to earth.

"You should get him to bed. I need to get going anyways."

"No!" The protest was louder than anticipated, startling both you and Pedri, who had gotten bored of playing sober FIFA and may have over-indulged when Pablo's balcony date with you entered its second hour.

"I mean, I'll get him to bed. You haven't told me your story yet. I would hate for you to leave without finishing the reason why you came. Wait for me on the couch, I'll be five minutes."

There was a pause, almost a reluctance from you to break the strong eye contact. He knew that there was something else you wanted to say. There was always something left unsaid between the two of you. He watched your form disappear down the stairs as he guided Pedri to his room (he didn't want his soon-arriving sister to sleep on dirty sheets). "You have the worst timing imaginable, hermano." Pablo muttered out, blood boiling at how the evening had gone from 200 back down to zero in a matter of seconds. When did he even put a case of beer in the fridge? Neither of you were drinkers. His fridge was always stocked with every delight and craving you had mentioned in passing.

"You told me to make sure you didn't say anything stupid." Pedri responded, making Gavi squint at him in suspicion. He must have not as been as out of it as he let on.

"Yeah but I think she- nevermind. Go to sleep."

"Calm down Pablito. It's not like I interrupted your first kiss."

Forcing himself to take a deep, self-soothing breath, Pablo turned from his inebriated friend and shut the door.

Making your way to the living room, you once again filled your senses with the boyish football decor of the living room. Checking to make sure he wasn't coming down the stairs, you sped over to the front door. The pictures on the wall remained as they were previously: childhood, family, football. Your heart sank slightly at the thought of your Christmas present sitting ripped and crumpled at the bottom of his club-issued backpack. You turned back into the living room, making your way to the couch.

Flopping on the soft material, you kicked your feet up on the table, glancing over to look at his obnoxiously large Barca book. And there, sitting on top of it, was a simple black frame, slightly dented in one corner like it had been dropped. The frame held the two of you, angry and standoffish and forever frozen in that moment before the floodgates had been irreversibly opened. He had framed it. Pablo Gavi, the busiest boy in football right now, had decided you were worth the frame and the position front and center on his favorite book.

"So, what was so groundbreaking you needed to see my reaction in person?" His question snapped you out of your trance, and you sprung up from your place on the sofa, needing to get the photo out of your field of vision for your own sanity. Making a B-line to the fridge, the cold was inviting to your flushed face. Fruit, bread, cheese, cold cuts - no Spanish boys here. Just the comfort of food.

"Do you want a sandwich?"

"There's no way you said that to her! Who are you and what have you done with the Doctora I know?" Despite his reprimand, the beautiful boy before you joined in the fits of giggles that had taken over you. Having deprived yourself of a decent meal for the last week due to work (they had finally handed over all of Antonio's medical notes and they were in shambles), you fixed yourself and Pablo the most impressive sandwich you had ever conjured in your adult life. After filling his arms with every possible accompaniment, he plopped himself beside you on the couch, crossing his legs so his knee rested against yours. Before he got comfortable, he jumped up, stating he had forgotten something.

"I got these for you." The jar he placed on the table was filled with green liquid, and as you leaned in closer to inspect the label, your eyes lit up.

"You... bought me a jar of pickles?"

"Yeah. Remember one time you said you liked them so I got these. They look like the same jar." That's when you let yourself burst into tears.

The hour following had been you and Pablo in various states: his arm around you as you cried into his shoulder about how shit the people in your life had been, then hunched over plates stuffing your faces and joking around, and finally the current one of eating pickles and chips and whatever else was on the table as you recounted your demonic phone call.

"I did but like I've wanted to say it to her for months now! You don't understand, Pablo, because you're friends with the amazing, caring, thoughtful being that is me." More giggles as he shoved a pillow into you, smile so bright it could light up the entire first floor. He was never afraid to be like this around you: silly and playful and just comfortable.

"La la Doctora, ladies shouldn't use such foul language." It was your turn to shove his shoulder, probably causing you more damage than him due to the rock-solid muscle.

"Thanks papa, appreciate the advice. But like seriously, she asked me to drive her to Madrid one weekend - as in like Madrid five hours away - to go to a specific store. You know what she bought there? Buttons. 10 hours of my life and a hell of a lot of gas so she could get buttons! And it's not like I expected anything in return-"

"No of course not. It's just when you do nice things for people and are kind to them, you want them to act the same. Treat others how you want to be treated." Pablo bit his tongue there, scared he would sound immature or stupid. You were several years his senior in age and education, and the last thing he wanted was for you to water-down your feelings because you thought he wouldn't understand.

"Right?! See, you get it! And I just, ugh, I feel kinda bad because like she didn't really do anything directly. Like yeah her show and stuff but there wasn't really a moment or like a fallout." You moved towards Pablo, leaning on his shoulder as the moment took a more serious turn.

"But that's the whole point isn't it? That she didn't do anything, she was just kind of there and reaping all the benefits of friendship with no effort. And-"

"Doctora, can I interrupt you for a minute?" You felt Pablo's shoulder dip slightly, and disappointed as you were, took the sign to lift your head.

"Sorry I didn't mean to take over your personal sp-"

"Ay shut up about my personal space. I'd handcuff you to me if I had the chance." He quickly looked away from you, processing his comment after he had said it. Nice one Gavito - real friendly. He moved some of the cushions to the end of the couch by the arm rest, kicking off the more decorative ones and leaning down. Honey eyes looked at you between thick lashes, and patted the narrow sliver of space beside him. Rolling his eyes at the confused raising of your brow, he verbalized his request.

"Come lay next to me while you rant."

Oh. Oh. Had he ever asked you outright to cuddle with him? The first time, you had been the instigator. You had taken that leap off the bridge - no, the cliff - and yet there he had been, warm and welcoming, catching you with grace. Ever since then, there had really been no words. Talking about his desires and feelings didn't come naturally to Pablo, and so he steered clear of them all together. It was always something unspoken: he would be at your apartment and just follow you down the hall when you declared it to be bedtime. Or when you had spent too much time at the Gavira house watching reruns of the same telenovela, and Gavi just switched the TV off and guided you up the stairs. No matter the location it was always the same. Him on the right side, you on the left, but both magnetically drawn to the center and one another. You slotted into his side, head on his heart, and stabilized by his embrace. Sometimes he wore a shirt - most times he didn't. He hugged you a little closer whenever you were in his clothing, trying to dispense his scent onto it anew and make sure you would think of him whenever there was a breeze. But there were never words. Only feelings and longing gazes and that same settled silence.

"You want me to?"

"Why would I ask if I didn't want you to? Last time you fell asleep on my shoulder you almost broke your neck. Now if you fall asleep you will only be semi-sore in the morning. I mean you don't have to if you-"

"No. I mean yes. I mean no I don't not want to do that."

"Is your Spanish getting worse or did that make no sense?"

You sighed in defeat, laying beside Pablo on the couch, sinking into the fabric and into him. One of his arms was acting as your pillow, and his hand made its way upwards to softly play with your hair, an instant soother. Body turning inwards toward him, your arms were up and palms gently pressed to his chest.

"Am I too close?" You asked, Pablo's previous comment about wanting to be physically attached to you seemed to have evaporated from your mind. His second arm fell around your waist, pulling you closer in. Your thigh was now pressed between his legs, and you both seemed to hold your breath for a moment. The alarms went off in his brain while his eyes held yours. He just stared at you. That's all he ever really wanted to do nowadays. He unfroze and shook his head before prompting you to continue your story.

"Oh, right - where was I?"

"She never put any effort into the relationship."

"Oh, right." You sat up to grab one of the blankets, draping the warmth on the tangled mess of limbs, and laying back down. It was not lost on you that Pablo, despite all the jokes, had listened intently to every word you had said. Nothing Pablo did, from the way he shifted his misaligned hips to his soft breathing to the way his fingers traced shapes in your side, was ever lost on you.

"So..." and on continued your rant for about an hour. It was a different kind of catharsis to speak about your pain and receive empathy in response. To be told that the feelings poisoning your spirit were ones that had been planted and could be weeded out. It was a relief that also brought about a tiredness, where once your emotions were freed, your eyelids grew substantially heavier. But the fingers remained soothing against your hair, twisting and smoothing the locks. He pushed a few stray pieces from your face, smiling at the sleepy state on your face.

"Excited for this last month of the season?" The short international break had allowed for the season to be neatly wrapped up by the first week of May, with the Champions League final and awards ceremonies following directly after.

"Mhm," you hummed back, eyes now fully closed and cheek pressed against Pablo's warm skin. "But it's not really a month for me. It's more like a week left of the season. Copa Del Rey in three days, then you score a screamer in the net at home to win La Liga three days later. Once the season is decided, I'm back at school for practical exams." The vibration in his chest reverberated throughout your entire being, and your semi-sleeping form nuzzled deeper into Pablo, which neither of you thought possible. Fingers tightened around the semi-exposed skin of your waist, and he felt a sensation akin to weilding fire at will. Knowing full well the flames could engulf him in a torturous inferno, but oh how beautiful to hold and let dance at the tips of his fingers.

"So we have two more matches with you?"

"Three if you choke again and let the other borderline relegation team score three goals." He tugged lightly at your hair as a reprimand, your smile spreading against his neck.

"I wasn't even on the field for the full 90 minutes last game. Don't worry, we're bringing home both trophies this week. And you're getting that screamer of a goal. Make sure to record it so I can gloat forever." A gentle nod and a hum, but the sleep was slowly seeping into your senses.

"So after that, what? What's next?"

"Well you already know that Xavi offered me a permanent position for when I graduate next year. So I'm at the club on automatic placement renewal. He he I was the first one in my class to get it."

"Of course you were, Doctora. You're the best there is." Warm cheeks yet again. Pablo must think you're a natural furnace, not realizing that his sticky sweet compliments were always triggering the "Heart Overheating" alarms in your mind.

"You think too highly of me. I'll see you when you come back for preseason medicals and training. They might let me run it this year. Oh, and at the Bondor. I'll be there, too."

"At the what?"

"The Bondor." You repeated, unaware of how much you were mumbling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Slow down for me, Doctora. One word at a time. Where will I see you?"

"Ballon. D'or." You repeated for the third time as slowly as possible. It was too hard to stay awake now, and let yourself slip fully into the depth of relaxation, tangled in a web of warm Pablo, basking in this moment where you could just rest contently.

Pablo on the other hand was now on high alert. There had been a lot of commotion in the club when the nominations were announced. Pedri had pulled up the livestream on the projector, the entire squad waiting with baited breath for the categories of interest. There mutters all around about how the whole ceremony was a scam and had royally screwed over Robert, but who was going to turn down the honor? You had seen the stampede (led of course by Luca, who was always at the head of any effort to get out of doing his job) and followed quickly, afraid someone else had passed out. The players had been pushing themselves to stay miles above Madrid in the league, and it was taking a real toll. You looked up at the ceiling as you speed-walked, praying that everyone (especially Dembele) was okay. You would really like a calm week.

"Now, the nominees for the Kopa Trophy, awarded to the best player under 21 years of age..."

Ansu caught your eye as you entered and waived you over, instructing you to sit with him and the other young Barca boys. Gavi had been given a seat in the middle, the throne of the meeting room, as the murmurs circulated once again. You hadn't been aware that Pablo was a contender for this award - not surprised, but your schedule didn't allow you to keep on on Twitter as you once had. You wrung your fingers, heart hammering as the presenter spoke with that slow TV drawl that made everyone want to commit arson.

"Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Bukayo Saka, Eduardo Camavinga, Gavi-"

You were sure there were other nominees, but the shouts of joy and thunderous claps on Gavi's shoulders prevented any more information from entering your ears. The coaching staff and older players commended him on the achievement, and you had to wait until the room was essentially cleared to stick out your hand and offer a congratulatory message.

"Are we doing handshakes now?" He asked, eyes flitting between you and Pedri's gossip circle occupying the far corner.

"It feels more professional. This is a professional achievement after all."

""I haven't achieved anything yet." He said shaking your hand firmly and lingering much longer than was appropriate for the workplace (and 'friends').

"What are you talking about? You've been nominated! That's huge in itself given that a lot of your teammates also qualify for that award."

"Yeah but Pedri snatched it last year. They won't hand it over to the same club two years in a row."

"Doesn't Messi have like 27 Ballon D'ors in a row?"

"Please don't use Leo as an example. I am just a regular human being." As the two of you made your way into the hall, out of the line of sight of Pedri's tea spilling team, the laughter and teasing died down. You turned to Pablo, bringing one hand to rest on his arm, smoothing the fabric of his training jacket with your fingers as you looked up at him.

"You're a brilliant player, Pablo. One of the best this club has ever seen. You are incredible and have the brightest future ahead of you, and I just hope I get to be a part of it. That award it yours - I can feel it. But even if it isn't, don't sell yourself short. You amaze me every day."

This was the best news since his promotion to the first team. He had been pushing the Paris trip to the far recesses of his brain, a bout of nausea and anxiety striking him every time he conjured the thought of walking down that carpet or speaking on stage. But now you were going to be there. You would see him in the finest suit D&G would lend him, hair perfectly gelled down (he would need a trim). And he let himself ever so briefly entertain the fantasy of you watching him win. Of the announcer calling out his name, the crowd rising to their feet in deafening applause as he accepted the trophy from Pedri. He would look out into the crowd and see you there, sending a wink your way before thanking everyone who helped him achieve this, especially the medical staff. He drifted off to sleep replaying this scenario in his head, a trophy in one arm and the girl of his dreams in the other.

Pedri woke up with a minor headache in the morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows directly into his eyes. He would be buying Pablo some blackout curtains for Christmas. Descending from his place, he walked across it: a real sight to behold. You and Gavi were tangled together on the couch, legs an absolute mess with the blanket pooled around them. Your head was on his chest, face nuzzled upward into his neck. Your hands were fisting his shirt, as if afraid someone would rip him from your clutches. Pablo wasn't much better. He had his arms wrapped around you, one on the back of your head and one around your waist. He had managed to pull you on top of him in the night, his back flat on the sofa and your weight pooled on his chest and bringing him tranquility. His lips rested against your forehead, his face perfectly positioned with yours. He held you tight against him, and your unconscious form rose and fell with each of his deep and even breaths. Despite his best efforts, Pedri couldn't stop himself from snapping a picture of the moment. Thank God his ringer was always off. He did have enough self restraint to prevent him from sharing the photo with his group chat with Ansu, Ale, Eric, and surprisingly Robert (he just likes to be included). The name had changed numerous times in the last several months, and was now simply called "friendship" my ass for obvious reasons. He knew this would be a picture Pablo and you would look back on fondly when one was finally courageous enough to just let go. But until then, it sat safely in his hidden folder, and he tiptoed out the door, sparing one last look at the pair of you, sleeping more deeply than well-fed toddlers. The tension in Pablo's face was gone. Pedri hoped it would stay that way.

"And we are just minutes from kicking off what could be the league-winning match for Barcelona here in Spotify Camp Nou! Set to be an exciting game against Atletico Madrid, and the crowd is absolutely on fire."

"Just as well, Peter. I mean Barcelona have the ability to make this an incredible three trophy season right here today. They're coming off a massive win against Sevilla in the Copa Del Rey final, at home for what could be the league winner, and the performances we're going to see today are going to be full energy full power now that the Ballon D'Or nominee list has been announced."

"That's right we have Robert Lewandowski shortlisted for the titular award after two incredible seasons at Bayern Munich. We also have Pedri potentially passing the 'Golden Boy' torch onto his fellow midfielder Gavi, who has had an absolutely stellar season."

"Who can forget about that performance in the Supercopa, Peter. Three goal contributions in a Classico no less, the likes of which we haven't seen since Leo Messi stepped up to the plate, and we all know how that played out. He's really been putting in amazing performances week after week, and the most surprising thing is the level of health Barca have been able to maintain. For a team riddled with injuries all of last season, it is a miracle turnaround. Kick off right here after the break."

The tunnel was always busy right before kick off, but today it was quadruple-fold. You weren't sure if Barca was just extra confident in a victory today, but the media passes had tripled, and everyone was eager to get candids of the young blaugrana boys. You were pushing through people's shoulders, 'excuse-me' shifting very quickly into 'get out of the way' as you made your way to the players line up to adjust resistance tape and back braces. You were in the official physio uniform today, Nike jacket hugging your skin and tucked neatly into your trousers. The entire staff had been gifted with a new pair of cleats with the date on one side and a number of their choice on the other.

"I'm assuming 6 for you?" You had been caught off guard by the assumption from the brand rep.

"Why would you assume that? Have other players been telling you things about me?" You must have looked genuinely afraid and shocked, as the rep raised his hands in innocence, face going pale.

"No no no. I have absolutely no idea who you are. You have a 6 on your hoodie, so I thought you would want something to match."

It was discreet, a small black number on the back of your heel, and yet it was the only thing that Gavi could see as you worked to adjust Frenkie's shoulder. Did all of you have numbers? Were they in order, yours just happening to fall in the 6th position? Were there even 6 people on the physio team? His eyes stayed on your shoes until they were in front of his. He looked up to meet you raised brow.

"Why are you staring? Your shoes are nicer than mine."

Turning around, he let you test his hip alignment as he allowed himself to speak away the nerves buzzing throughout his system.

"Think we're going to win?"

"I always think you're going to win. I'm just waiting for that incredible goal you promised last week."

"What, the three goal contributions in the Supercopa weren't enough for you? You have high standards, Doctora."

"Of course. That was back in January. It's April now, Pablo. I want you to make my last game good." As you released him from your grip, he turned to face you, putting both hands on your shoulders. A few players turned their heads, but only for a cursory glance.

"If I score today, you let me pick you up as a celebration."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Who's going to stop me?"

"One of your fangirls might dive onto the field and tackle me."

"I have faith in you, Doctora. You seem like a fast runner."

"Always nice to have your unwavering support. Deal. Better be a good goal."

"A screamer."

You moved onto Pedri, who was next in the numerical line up, and his eyebrows did all the talking for him. You muttered a quick 'good luck' before continuing your duties in the remaining minutes before they walked out for the match.

"What a friendly little deal you've made, hermano." He leaned over and said, but the players began walking before Pablo could respond. Post -anthem, you took your place on the sidelines, jittery from the electric energy ricocheting around the stadium. No Joao for Gavi to shove around, but Griezmann was going to be a problem. The first half was rough and fast-paced, but remained scoreless. As the players came off for half time, you were instructed to help out the ones with high muscle tension. Passing Pablo, you placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear, quick and soft: "Looks like I'm staying seated all game."

Pablo turned just in time to watch you scamper off, a smirk on his lips. Pablo loved a challenge, and it was all the better to have it come from you. He had a couple opportunities during the first half, but he was scared of getting fouled too early on. Now was the time were he was able to push, with the anxiety from the beginning of the game shaken off. He tuned back into Xavi's pep talk and instructions for the second half, lips still upturned.

The media was always puffing up players, but it was true that Pedri was a magician with the ball. There was something captivating about the way he calmly danced between players, maneuvering skillfully. A pass to Araujo, then back to him. The roar of the crowd was dulled by the thrum of your heart and the snapping as you bit at your nails in anticipation. The boys had been pressing hard, and a score seemed eminent. Pedri lifted his head, looking for his striker. Lewa was locked up on the right. It seemed the moment to move back, alleviate the press and recalculate. But then a flash of blue and red streaked across his vision and his foot reacted faster than his brain. Minute 85, a scoreless game, and a ball crossed high and fast towards the menace that was Gavi. His foot connected in the far left corner of the box and there it went, screaming past the goalie's fingertips before nestling in the top corner of the net.

An explosion. You were the slowest person to react, slack jawed as the other physios shoved and shook you in celebration. Hands coming to his chest, he gripped the crest like it was a crown jewel, looking right as you as he brought it to his lips, kissing it with a force and passion that had flowed in him since he was 11 years old. He ran towards you, teammates following swiftly, and suddenly there were arms around your thighs as he lifted you. He bounced you in the air as his teammates clapped him on the shoulders, congratulating him and showering him with the well-deserved praise. You looked down, hands rested on Pablo's shoulders. His gaze was locked with yours. you wanted to tease him or commend him but there were no words. He released you, pointing at ou before taking his position.

They lifted the trophy shortly after, the players looking like children as they danced and sang in a circle. The players all took their turns squeezing the living daylights out of you.

"Doctora!" It was Dembele who called out to you, waving you over. Under the watchful eyes of his coaches, Gavi was more careful not to get too close to you (even though he had just Lion-King lifted you during the game).

"Come take a picture with all your patients and their trophy!" The request was made with laughs all around as you stood behind the trophy, Ousmane on one arm and Pedri on the other. Balde and Ansu got into the photo as well, arms all around each other.

"Gavi! Get in here! You're the one with the most clinic hours." Ousmane called out to him as well. He blushed as he walked (waddled) over, stopping to pick up the trophy and dropping it into your hands.

"This is your achievement too, Doctora. You should be proud." Pedri shoved him in beside you, claiming it helped 'balance the photo'. The flash went off twice. Once with Pablo paying attention to the camera, smiling brightly having just won MOTM in their league decider. The second was almost identical, but his head was turned to you. The smile was softer, the eyes kinder. He looked at you like the ultimate prize. As he said his goodbyes to you, promising not to miss you too much in the month you would be seperated, he realized one thing: he was going to need more frames.

@gaviraconcubine: ok i thot it was stupid but maybe gavi is actually w his physio???? just look at them

1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies

@blaugranaboy: if you FEMALES knew anything, you would know barca has had shit physios and is always getting injured. since she came on staff they staying healthy. i would pick her ass up to

@barbiebalde: @blaugranaboy *too. Sexist AND bad english? pick a struggle

@88rizzing: ok but theres also pics of her out with pedri at a prada store so idk anymore???????

@gavitaylorsversion: her instagram is private :( can someone drop clearer pictures of her

You had been through some difficult situations in the last ten months, but these practical exams were the biggest challenge you had faced in your existence. 8am to 8pm lectures for two weeks, followed by a week straight of performing concussion protocols, lifting stiff boards, and demonstrating a whopping 6 different types of sutures had finally come to an end. It was May 5th, the final day of your exams, and three days before your flight to Paris for the ceremony. Your phone had been discarded for practically the entirety of the month, logged out of all social media and having your focus set to only let through emergency calls (and, of course, texts from Pablo). They had been less frequent given his understanding of your schedule.

[Pablito]: i know you have stitches today. Good luck <3

[Pablito]: Kounde asked about you today. He hasn't realized you've been missing the last two weeks. He really isn't on this planet

[Pablito]: the finale of our show came on last night. I recorded it so we can watch it together after your exams.

And now the most recent one had come through:

[Pablito]: Congrats on surviving the epic battle of your practical exams. I sent you dinner. Have a great night!

The doorbell rang in some scary accurate timing, and you graciously accepted the package from the delivery driver. Sitting on your couch to watch any comedic show that would help you decompress. The bag was huge, and seemingly filled to the brim with containers. Pasta, pizza, two types of bread, fried chicken, and three slices of cake (chocolate, cheesecake, and tres leches). There was also a bottle of sugar-free soda, for balance apparently. As you picked up your phone to ask Pablo if you were meant to feed the whole building, another text popped up on your screen.

[Santa Naranja]: Hi! I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the stylist who worked with Pedro for his Prada shoot? I got this number from him. You should yell at him for giving out your number so easily.

[Santa Naranja]: Anyways, I just got the list for the Ballon D'Or ceremony and I saw your name on there. How exciting! My company is styling Barca for the event, and I wanted to reach out personally to see what you would be interested in wearing.

[Santa Naranja]: Because I'm assuming you don't want to be in a suit? But I could be wrong.

You replied instantly, telling her how grateful you were for contacting you. You had been planning on wearing one of your old wedding-guest dresses, not having the time to go pick up something else. The two of you arranged to meet tomorrow at her studio, and you went back to your original mission: snapping a picture and sending it to Gavi.

He opened the message instantly, feeling all warm and fuzzy staring at the food spread on your lap and his old shirt hanging off your shoulders. You hair was up, face bare, and he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss you on the forehead.

[Doctora]: thanks for the food, pablito <3 see u in paris

"Ouch!" He yelled out, taken out of his daydream by a needle shoved into his wrist. "Pedri! Tell your friend to be gentle."

"First of all, we're not friends-"

"We're not?" Pedri asked the stylist, the smoke practically rising from her ears. She glared at him, looking extra menacing with the pins between her teeth.

"No. We're not. You're only allowed to be here if you're silent, remember? And second of all we are tailoring your suit sleeves. You're going to get stabbed if you keep moving your arms! Now hold still. She's still going to be there in 15 minutes for you to gush over."

"How did you know who I was talking to?" Pablo asked, genuine shock and curiosity across his features.

"Oh please, for the love of God, don't tell me you think you're being subtle?!"

"Hi! Come in come in! I didn't even realize it was raining."

Santa Naranja was, as you had recently discovered, not just Pedri's stylist. She wasn't even a Prada stylist. She was now a senior assistant stylist for Style Di Fortuna, a global firm that worked to style celebrities for different events. Since Herno and D&G started dressing the club, management had received official notice regarding their event attire.

"You should have seen the letter they sent. It was like a scolding from the school principal. 'Players must be formally and professionally styled during all official events as to avoid conflict in brand image and the tarnishing of the brand's respectability. Can you imagine dressing so poorly that you could ruin the reputation of an entire brand? Although I shouldn't expect any less. Pedro's jorts could bring about doomsday."

It was the other girls in the office that had given her the nickname 'Santa' for her saint-like patience in dealing with Pedri for... reasons. She was a completely different person when his cheshire cat smile and bushy brows were not in the room. She was calm and fun and humorous. She scurried around the workshop, pouring you a cup of cinnamon tea loaded with sugar, before running back into a warehouse closet and throwing about twenty garment bags over her arms.

"Did you have anything in mind for your look? I know that the club must have given you some basic guidelines, but what about your personal style?"

"Oh yeah, they came with the invitation. Long skirt, no slit, no trains, no plunging necklines, no open backs, no beading or gems, no appliques, and no bright colors."

The poor stylist stopped in her tracks, returning virtually every dress she had in her hands.

"Okay, let's go to the nun section of the closet. What colors would you like? Keep them boring and muted." You giggled at the remark, rattling off a list of colors. She either hummed in agreement or gave a slight pause, allowing you time to retract the wrong choice. Green, red, and white were all off the table, seeing as the wags had already claimed them.

"What's Gavi's favorite color?" She teased, shoving a garment bag at you and ushering you behind the separator to change.

"Haha, very funny. I'm not going as his date."

"You can add the 'unfortunately' to the end of that. I won't judge you."

"Sure. It's unfortunate I'm not Pablo's date in the same way it's unfortunate that you're not Pedri's."

"Please don't speak such wicked thoughts about me and Pedro into the universe."

After cycling through about 15 dresses, the weight of the event and the pressure of traveling in two days was beginning to weigh on you, a tightness settling into your chest and disrupting your breathing.

"I'm going to look so stupid at this event. Nothing looks good." You huffed as you resisted the urge to face plant into the million euro pile of fabric on the floor. Your companion huffed as well, racking her brain for any guidance on how to dress you without making you look like a churchly sister or a plastic bag.

"Okay. Do you know anything about fashion?" She asked. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a kindergarten teacher asking a poor 6-year old if they knew how to tie their shoes.

"I try and keep up."

"If you could pick any look from the last like 10 years on the runway that you would wear to this event, what would it be?"

"I can't afford-"

"Not telling you to buy it. Just imagine. If you could wish a dress into your hands right now, what would it be?"

You sat and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since you separated yourself from the imposed masculine nature of your job. Your hair stayed up, your nails stayed short, your face always painted naturally (you had gotten dress-coded for winged eyeliner once). It had been years if not a complete decade since you allowed your thoughts to be pink and flowery. You had put girlhood on pause, allowed it to hibernate for the harsh winter war of professional success. But now it was spring, and the blossoms emerged once again. You weren't a physio going for a meeting. You were a princess preparing for her magical night in Paris, your fairy standing before you. This was one of those moments where you just had to take a pause. You had worked to hard to make it here. Now that you were here, enjoy it.

"Well, Viktor and Rolf had the most gorgeous tulle dresses ad fashion week. They were all strapless and tight at the top, and they had these beautiful full skirts and velvet ribbons. If I was a wag or a footballer accepting my own award, I would wear that." You said, still allowing the rose color of your imagination to tint your reality. You entertained the thought briefly that this is the first time Pablo would see you properly dolled up, and it made you want to squeal and kick your feet like a girl waiting for prom.

"Oh my God you're so smart!" She yelled, running back into the dark passage of the closet. She returned a moment later with a black fabric bag, gold filigree embossed onto the material. She hung and began to unzip, unveiling the most beautiful dress you had ever seen in your life. It was a pale nude, almost the color of beach sand, with a fitted corset top that came down to the top of the hip bone. It then flares slightly into a layered tulle skirt, the color solid except for one band of pale blue that wrapped around the skirt, the waist accentuated with a velvet bow in the same dusty blue. You reached out one shaking hand to smooth down the fabric, almost afraid it would disintegrate in your touch. (dress inspo for those interested)

"Bouguessa just sent us this. It's more subtle than the Viktor and Rolf ones, it goes with gold and silver jewelry, won't draw too much attention, and follows that ridiculous novel of rules." She said, hands on her hips behind you.

"I can't wear this." You said, trembling at the very thought of spilling a drop of... well anything really on this dress.

"You can and you will. We had it shorted for some actress wearing it in Cannes later this month, so wear nice shoes. Nothing too tall though - Pablo is 5'7 after all." You turned to her, and the face she had expected to smile back at her held eyes welling with tears. You pulled her against you, too fast for her to process, and let the tears stream down your cheeks.

"I have never had anyone be so kind to me. I can't thank you enough."

"I'm just letting you borrow a dress," she said, arms wrapping around you as well. "Do you not have friends?"

"Let's not open that can of worms."

"Hi, Dr. Gonzalez. You wanted to see me?" Your head peaked in ever so slightly to catch his hand waving you over. Despite knowing on a deep psychological level that he respected you as a professional, he still scared the bejeezus out of you.

"Yes. I forgot to give you your passes for tonight's flight. You'll be able to use this to get directly into the lounge and then on the jet we have chartered this evening."

"The... what?"

"How were planning on getting to Paris exactly, Miss y/n?" He took off his small glasses, a gesture to emphasize how stupid you were being at the present.

"I was going to take the train in tomorrow?" You responded extremely unsure of yourself.

"Take the train in the morning of the ceremony? Oh this generation. No foresight. You'll meet the team in the lounge at exactly 8pm this evening."

"So what I'm hearing is... I'm going on the private jet with Xavi and the squad?"

"Yes."

"And my accomodation..?"

"You will have a room in the hotel on the same floor as the rest of the team. Any other logistical questions? Do I need to explain what the Ballon D'Or is?"

"No, no, of course not. Thank you so much Dr. Gonzalez. I'll be sure to represent Barca well as an organization that loves women!" You got up hastily from your chair, exiting the office with Dr. Gonzalez yelling behind you.

"We didn't send you because you're a woman! Don't say that to any reporters!"

The Barcelona airport was, in your opinion, nothing special. That was until the woman at the check-in desk saw your badge and personally guided you past security and into a private Air France lounge. The room was decked out in plush sofas and chaise lounges, soft spa music bouncing between the walls. Enough food to feed the entire terminal had been laid out on stone and marble platters, and three girls in matching dark blue uniforms strolled around the room, waiting to be flagged down for assistance. This was nice. Maybe gold digging was really the best choice. It's a miracle that not everyone on the quad had Ferran-sized heads if this was the treatment they were used to.

"Ay look who finally made it." The voice greeting you belonged to Xavi, who was the first to stand up and embrace you. You greeted the rest of the group and introduced yourself to both Xavi and Robert's wives, thinking it more appropriate to sit with the other women on the trip. You chatted with them until it was time to board, at which point you could no longer exercise self control. You walked up to Pablo, tapping him on the shoulder.

He couldn't suppress his smile when he saw you, and Anna whispered to her husband how you had not introduced yourself as Gavi's girlfriend.

"Well, they're not together. She's a physio at the club."

"He looks at her like he's in love."

"Yeah. Everyone has noticed except the two of them."

Fighting the urge to stuff you into his hoodie so you could never disappear for a month again, Pablo opted to instead put one arm around you, embracing you in a tight side hug. You two walked onto the plane together, effectively abandoning Pedri, while catching up on everything that had gone on since your last meeting. He sat beside you on one of the couches, spinning around to lay with his legs on top of you, which were swiftly pushed off. The two of you now sat side by side, eating from a bag of sour gummies.

"I missed you." He said softly as you watched Barcelona grow smaller and smaller beneath you. You turned back to him resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. A lot more than I thought I would." There was no more talk after that. No mention of feelings or trophies or anything really. Just sour bears and that telenovela finale he promised to watch with you.

The clock in the hotel lobby read 11:44pm as you fought with Pablo to try and carry your own bag in. Well, fought is a vague term - you tugged on his bicep while he dragged you and your suitcase inside.

"We're only here for two days - what on Earth could you have brought?" He asked, letting out an exaggerated huff as he set it down on its wheels.

"Makeup is heavy, my dress is heavy, my shoes are heavy - society's beauty standards are just weighing me down at every turn." He smiled back at you, your fingers itching to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the tip of his nose and tell him that he had a smile that could bring cities to their knees.

"Pedri! Gavi!"

You turned around to the source of the voice, watching Pedri embrace a very tall and very familiar Spaniard. As he made his way over to Gavi, he gave you a once over that indicated his brain was still trying to figure out who you were. As his hand connected with Gavi's, it was like the electricity had switched back on.

"Oh, hey! You came and interviewed at Chelsea. Convince her to stay then, hermanito?" he clapped Gavi on the back of the neck.

"No, I didn't have to say anything. She spent an afternoon with you guys and came running back to the better club." You smiled shyly, feeling a little awkward at your once potential club interacting with the one you had chosen to stay at. You stepped to the side, noticing Perdi deep in conversation with someone else. Tan, tall, and beautiful, he turned to you, smiling wide and approaching.

"Ah hello again." You were in a hug before you knew it. You reciprocated, wishing one of the boys would take a photo so you could send it to ever girl in your high school.

"Joao! Great to see you again. How have you been?" He pulled away, hands still on your upper arms as he ranted to you about his difficult second half of the season had been. Pablo sat back, loosely listening to the exchange between Pedri and Kepa, with most of his energy focused on seething at the sight in front of him. Joao had talked to you for what? An hour? Why did he feel so comfortable touching you like this? His tongue found purchase in his cheek, his arms crossed over his chest. Xavi tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the key cards for your three, giving him a perfect excuse to break up your conversation.

"Here you go, Doctora. This one's yours. Doing well Joao?" There was an obvious hint of animosity in his voice that was evident to the both of you. Nevertheless, Joao released you to shake Gavi's hand.

"I saw you on TV the other day getting picked up by this one. Twitter went crazy speculating about you two dating. You guys.. aren't dating, right?" Joao directed the question to you, now fully turned away from Gavi, whose body temperature had exceeded 100 degrees.

"No, no. We're..." your eyes flashes to him, "just friends".

"I guess anyone would be grateful to have someone like you caring for their wellbeing. A shame that you didn't come over to us for this season. But I may get the privilege if I can get Xavi to place a bid on me." Pablo let out a laugh that was too loud and enthusiastic to be polite. If Joao had been offended, he didn't let it on.

"Oh, Mason is here, too! We're going out with him and his friend Jude for drinks here at the hotel bar. You should come with us! You can come too, Gavi- oh wait, are you even old enough to drink?" The question was punctuated with a smirk, an obvious rebuttal to Gavi's humor at him joining the club.

"I'm flattered but I need to get some rest for tom- wait Jude as in Bellingham?" You asked, eyes wide.

"Of course. Know any other Jude's being nominated?" You heard Gavi breathing loud and heavy beside you, taking this as your cue to call it a night. Before you left, Joao grabbed your wrist, taking a look at your card.

"Floor three. Same as us. Maybe we'll see you around." He hugged you once more as a good night, then headed over to Mason, who waved at the group of you with Jude beside him. You made your way to the elevator with Gavi and felt embarrassed. You hadn't even done anything but be polite, but in some way you felt like you had committed a sin in talking so freely with Joao. Engrossed in thought, your face met Gavi's back as he suddenly stopped in front of a door.

"This is my room. I'll see you tomorrow." You stopped him in his tracks, one hand preventing him from crossing the threshold.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked, voice soft and even, trying to disguise the hurt.

"I- no, of course not, Doctora. Just nervous. Didn't think I'd be seeing my competition tonight." You pulled him into a hug, hands around his waist and your head on his chest with his above it. He let out a shaky breath, and all his fears with them. Joao had invited you out and yet you were still here, in his arms and in front of his door.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Before the 'big show'?" He asked, keeping you against his chest, just for a moment longer.

"Staff aren't allowed on the carpet so I'll see you inside the theater."

"Don't sit next to Joao tomorrow." He said with a slight pout, and you wanted to just pull him down and kiss him so hard he lost consciousness from the lack of air.

"I don't think they'll let me sit next to the players. Not important enough."

"You're going to be one of the most important people in that room. And just, don't sit next to him."

"I won't Pablo."

"Promise?" He said, sticking out his pinky. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your finger around his, bringing your conjoined hands upwards. You twisted them so that your thumb was facing him and vice versa. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the skin of his hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed audibly.

"What are you.. what was that?"

"You have to kiss it to seal the promise."

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, looking at you once more for any objection, before closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles.

"You have soft lips." You said looking between his lips and his hooded eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm two rooms over. Good night, Pablo. Good luck."

He watched you walk down the hall and enter your room, only returning to his when the door clicked shut. He pressed his back to the wood, allowing it to cool the sweat pooling under his hoodie. He was so thankful that he wasn't sharing a room with Pedri, because the feeling of your lips on his skin, soft and plump, had made him so incredibly hard.

"We are here live from the red carpet of the annual Ballon D'or ceremony, and the stars of the football world have come out in full force. On the carpet now Xavi Hernandez and his wife Núria, as well as Ballon D'Or contender Robert Lewandowski and his wife, champion in her own right, Anna. These are the veterans of football, and they should be shortly accompanied by the young trailblazers leading the New Era of Barcelona football."

It was three minutes until Gavi was supposed to step onto the carpet, and he was panicking. His breathing was shallow, his collar felt like it was suffocating him, and he was sweating bullets under his suit.

"Pedri, I can't do this." He said, genuine fear swimming in his eyes as he looked to his friend for comfort.

"Yes you can, hermano. All you have to do is walk and smile. Maybe answer some questions. You can absolutely do all of those things."

"What if I make an ass of myself?" He said, hiding behind Pedri as their handler signalled 30 seconds until they walked.

"You are here being told you are one of the best under 21 players in the world, and then you get to walk into the theater and see the best person in the world."

"I do really want to see her in a dress."

"I was talking about Leo Messi." Pedri deadpanned, and Gavi was shoved on the carpet genuinely laughing, a million bulbs flashing to capture his joy. He was here. He was 18 years old and on his way to shake hands with greatness. He was walking the carpet with his best friend in the world in a five thousand euro suit. He thought to his younger self, eleven years old and hiding behind his mother on his first day at La Masia. All the dreams he had were now the blueprint for his reality. Barca first team player? Check. Goal scorer? Check. Trophy winner? Check. Beautiful girl to share every euphoric moment with? Pending.

He took a few steps forward, waiting for Pedri to be photographed before he walked down to the end of the carpet, taking a group photo and heading to the microphones.

"Gavi! You look wonderful this evening. Are you excited for your first ceremony?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's something that I always dreamed about and now that my dream is a reality, I am just trying to enjoy every moment."

"Well you have had an absolutely stellar season playing with the reigning Kopa winner here, Pedri. Is it something you're thankful for, to play with him and to play with Barca?"

He looked over at Pedri, whose eyebrows were wiggling causing his serious demeanor to break.

"I'm absolutely so pleased to work with this guy here. He's just incredible on the field and we work well together. Barca is my lifelong club, and I am grateful to play there, to have them take care of me and keep me healthy." The reporter gave a thumbs up, and the boy stepped to the side to allow Pedri to finish his interview, wanted to have company as he entered the theater.

"Taking care of you and keeping you healthy, hm? Why didn't you just say her full name?"

The theater was glorious, all gold ornaments and plush red velvet, giving it a timeless and glamorous look. He craned his neck, looking around for those familiar eyes and inviting smile that had made his life so much worse and simultaneously so much better.

"Pablo." The voice came from behind him, and when he turned around, the world moved in slow motion. Your dress, pale nude and powder blue, made you look like a Greek deity. You could give the entire Spanish royal family a run for their money with the way the bodice seemed to mold against you, flaring out into a beautiful cascade of material. It ended at the bottom of your ankles, your feet hugged by blue heels, an anklet handing off that Gavi couldn't quite make out. Your jewelry glinted in the lights, the necklaces sitting between your collar bones drawing in the eye to the expanse of your chest and neck, and he had to try so, so hard to tear his eyes from this. He focused on all these details because looking at your face made him go slack-jawed.

Your hair was cascading freely, front pieces twirled away to show off the beauty of your feature. Your makeup was simple - glowing skin with rosy cheeks, black liner framing and highlighting your eyes, and glossy pink lips. Pablo knew nothing about makeup, but he knew for certain that if he got his hands on you, he would destroy whatever you had painted on your lips to make them shine. You batted your long lashes, and smiled shyly as Pedri let out a low whistle.

"Wow, who knew you were hiding all of this? Were you looking for husband tonight? This is the way to get it." He offered a hand, spinning you around so he (or rather Gavi) could get a full look, the blue bow in your hair flowing beautifully.

"You're too sweet, Pedri. I just didn't want to embarrass the club."

"Embarrass?!" They both exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

"You're on track to upstage us. They pay you enough to afford Prada?" Pedri asked again, pointing to your shoes.

"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."

A friend of Pedri's came up to whisk him away to another group, leaving you standing with Pablo.

"So, what do you think, Pablo? Too much?" You were nervous, resisting the urge to clench your dress in your fists and scurry off. You smoothed your clammy palms down the fabric as well.

"Doctora, you know I'm not super smart like you. I don't even know the words I want to tell you right now. So I'll use one I know: you look breathtaking." He practically whispered out the last word, causing your head to snap up, eyes meeting. "I think you might be the prettiest girl in the room right now." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing back his nerves and pride. You were absolutely stunning, and no friendship or professionalism would stop him from letting you know.

"Thank you, Pablo. You have no idea how much that means coming from you." You moved forward, adjusting his bowtie as an usher came to guide him to his seat. You moved to the back with other team staff members, waving to him as he walked off. You were independent and a girlboss and all that, but it felt good to have him think you were pretty.

"And the winner is... Gavi."

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clapping so loud it was deafening. Pedri smiled from ear to ear, watching as his friend came up to the stage to take his place as Europe's shining star, their Golden Boy. Gavi had been frozen in his seat for a second before Robert pushed him up, clapping him on the back and congradulating him. As he placed his hands around the trophy, his peripheral vision registered the people moving from their seats, standing and clapping for his success. Pedri was smug in his congratulations, reminding Pablo he never had a doubt he would be handing off this trophy to him. And as Pablo took his place at the podium, the gold statue adorning his side, he saw you. In the third to last row of the theater, you stood, by yourself in a row full of staff, clapping excitedly for his achievement. Your smile was bright, teeth on full display to convey the level of genuine joy you felt in that moment. You almost looked happier than Gavi himself. And as the applause died down and people retook their seats, he watched you sit back down, hands crossed over your chest in pride and admiration. He looked straight at you, a point of comfort in the large crowd, and only then did he allow the unbridled joy of being the very best to fill him.

"Thank you. I am so proud to have achieved this, to have won such a prestigious award in my first full season with Barca's first team. Thank you to my family for standing by me in the good times and the bad, and for believing in me. Thank you to the club, who gave me every opportunity to play and show my skill this season. A huge thanks to my coach and teammates for helping me succeed. And finally, I want to recognize and thank the Barca staff, especially the physio team, for all their hard work this season. I wouldn't be here without their dedication. Once again, thank you very much for the honor. Visca Barca."

All he wanted was to run off the stage into your arms, to ignore the questions about his season and his success, but there would be time later. You, on the other hand, were trying to recover from the shell shock of Pablo recognizing you specifically during his acceptance speech. Your phone buzzed in your lap at a mile a minute, text messages flooding in from friends and family telling you they had watched Gavi's praise of you on TV. You sat in that same shocked state until the ceremony ended.

Why on Earth did so many people want to talk to Gavi? Sure, he had just won one of the most important awards in football, but they had already played his highlight reel. What else could they want to know that wasn't on YouTube? He still smiled politely, congratulating Luka and Robert on their awards before he was able to catch a spare moment alone at a far table, Pedri pulling up to his side shortly after, also fatigued from small talk. His trophy was in hand, a little less shiny now that every person who greeted him had asked to hold it, the luster dulled by grease and fingerprints. The two stood in a comfortable silence, exchanging remarks about the room or the guests at the function every once in a while.

"Pablo! There you are!"

He looked up at the sound of your voice, but not nearly fast enough as you came barreling into him, arms thrown around his neck and embracing him so tight he thought he might pass out (not that he was complaining).

"I'm so, so proud of you." You whispered in his ear, squeezing a little tighter before releasing him, smoothing the soft material of his blazer to release the wrinkles you caused with your attack.

"I'm so glad all your hard work had amounted to this, and I hope I'm around to see how amazing you'll be in the future." You said, emotion making your voice crack slightly. There was something about Pablo that convinced you, deep in your soul, that you were two halves meant to come together. He was young, passionate, ambitious - a reflection of yourself. And to watch him succeed? To see him soar to heights previously thought impossible? It was something you wouldn't trade for the world.

Gavi's heartstrings were so tight they were ready to snap. He had prayed to hear so many different things from you, but never realized that this recognition, this pride expressed so freely, would be the most meaningful. This was it. This was the moment. Suit on, trophy in hand, this was the moment to express how much needed you in his life in a different way. How much he needed to keep making you proud.

"Y/N! There you are."

Joao's built arm was wrapped around you, smelling slightly of whiskey and Dior Fahrenheit. The anger vein in Gavi's forehead began to make a reappearance.

"Mason had to see you and introduce you to some of the boys." Mason greeted you as well, and called over his 'friend Jude' to be introduced. Jude Bellingham was an absolute sculpture, holding a glass of God knows what in such an effortless manner, his tie also abandoned in favor of leaving his first two buttons popped.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jude. I've heard about you from this one - thinks you're a medical Godsend." He ended with a wink. Pedri could feel the heat radiating from Gavi's side, and apparently so could Jude, who looked up and offered a wave.

"Congrats, mate. Brilliant speech." He said, raising a glass to help bridge the language barrier. You turned your head, quickly translating the sentiment.

"Oh, you're with them? The super special physio that's gotten praised in his speech? I should've known I was in the presence of greatness." You laughed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

"I'm really nothing special."

"Oh, well, that can't be true. I'll see for myself when I'm in SPain next year." A wink. Pedri grasped Pablo's arm to prevent blows. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some of the boys and the staff from City."

You quickly turned around, finding Gavi and Pedri whispering to one another.

"Pablo! He wants to introduce me to some people. I'll come find you!"

Thirty minutes later, Pablo was at a table with his trophy and a scowl, moping on what should be a happy night. After his second turn around the room, Pedri joined him, hoping to alleviate the burden.

"Hermano, are you-"

"Why would she just go with him? Like, I understand not being able to turn someone away when they're in your face, but to go with him?! Why would she do that?" He asked, sounding more and more small and child-like as he continued.

"She was just networking, hermano. Trying to meet people and make connections."

"Connections. Look what her connections have got her. Other guys coming up to her, trying to flirt in the most obvious ways possible. None of them know her like I do. None of them will ever - can ever - care about her in the way that I do. She needs to realize that no one will ever want to treat her right the way that I long to."

"Maybe you need to realize that it's not always the best guy that will get the girl, but the boldest one."

"What?"

"How many opportunities have you had, hm? To tell her you wanted her, to profess your love, to kiss her in her car or under street lamps or in front of the whole world? But you just stay sitting on the sidelines waiting for her to come to you. You know what's happening during that time? A Joao or a Jude or a Martin is taking the risk of telling her she's amazing, and she's going to accept. She's going to accept love that's less than yours because someone else was willing to give it to her, proudly and confidently. And you'll be sitting next to me, twenty years from now when we're both retired, talking about how the love of your life slipped between your fingers. She's here, right now, and you are still waiting. Either take the shot or let someone else shoot."

A fear shot through Pablo that he had never felt before. The idea of you, right now, falling in love with someone else made the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch you be with a man who thought you were anything less than the entire universe. It was him. Pablo Gavi was the one meant to have you, to hold you, to protect you from every evil and show you every joy. You were his soulmate, and he would move heaven and earth for his lover who was written for him in the stars.

He stood, scurrying to where Jude and the others had congregated. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen y/n?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and free from the terror threatening to consume him. He couldn't see your form anywhere in the ballroom.

"Oh," Kepa was the one to reply as the official Spanish speaker, "she went up to her room a few minutes ago. I think Joao took her up."

Pablo nodded before speed walking towards the door, breaking into a full sprint towards the elevators. Please. Please no. Please not Joao. Please not anyone. The ding when the elevator reached the third floor made his blood ripple, and he speed walked to your door, muttering under his breath.

"Please don't be in love with someone else."

He reached the door of your room, paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he would implode and self-destruct if he didn't do something.

He lifted his fist, took a breath, and knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, you opened the door, still in the perfect shape he saw you before, but now barefoot on the plush carpet of the hotel.

"Pablo?"

He peered over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Please, tell me he's not in there."

"Who, Pablo?"

"Anyone. Please tell me that there is no one in there now waiting on you. Please tell me," he pleaded softly, moving toward you and placing his hands on your shoulder, moving one down to rest right above where your heart beat. "Please tell me there is no one else in here. I have never begged in my life, Doctora, but I'm here now to beg you: tell me who is the one you're reserving a place in your heart for. Because I know, more than I know anything else in this world, that my soul is yours. Everything I could possibly give, I am asking you to take it without a second thought. And I have pretended, for months now, that I don't need you like the very air I'm breathing. But the more I pretend, the more clear it becomes: I have never loved anything as strongly as I love you. It is overwhelming and all consuming the way every heartbeat and breath is just for you. So just tell me how long I will have to wait. Days, months, years - tell me how long it will be until I get to love you, wholly and completely. Until I get to love you as you deserve. Because there is no other choice. There is no moving on. Every angel in heaven knows that I would struggle in vain until my last dying breath trying to get over you."

There were no words. Hell, there was no air. There was only Pablo, breathless and shaking before you, his fragile heart in your hands. Your hands moved to cup his face, and the urge to cry didn't consume you. You pulled him in, lips finally connecting with his, and the electricity that jolted through you could have lit up all of Paris. His lips were slow to react, and as you pulled away he followed, reluctant to stop kissing you in fear he would never start again.

"You, Pablo. My heart is yours. I'm yours. I always have been."

This time it was Pablo who pulled you in, his arms around your waist lifting you into him. He basked in the plump flesh of your lips, the way it felt to hold you in his arms, a million times better than he could have imagined. It was as if your hearts were racing in sync, thumping the same beat that reverberated around the little bubble the two of you were in. You shifted hands from his face to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You had craved this, to be so close and connected with Pablo. The kiss was slow, passionate, the kiss to say 'I have waited for you for so long' and the one in return to say 'I'm here to stay'.

Pedri had gone upstairs to look for Pablo, scared he had committed manslaughter, and found the two of you there, kissing in the hallway, arms enveloping each other and lips locked in a soft and tender embrace. He placed Pablo's trophy (his whole reason for finding him on the ground, turning to leave before stopping and performing his duties as a friend: taking a picture. Maybe he should buy Gavi a whole pack of frames.

You finally pulled away, face flushed and lips pinkish and swollen from the liplock. You kept your arms around Pablo, turning your face to hide in his shoulder. You spotted the golden statue on the floor and smiled as you moved to pick it up, stopped by his strong and unfaltering embrace.

"Your award, Pablo."

"You're my real prize of this evening."

"Ugh how corny." You laughed, finally freeing yourself to go and pick it up. You carried it before turning from Pablo to unlock your room door, timidly standing in the entryway.

"Do... you want to come inside?" You asked, cradling his trophy in your arms.

"Do you want me to come inside?" He asked, heart threatening to break his sternum. He had never thought of going so far so fast.

"I mean if you don't want to-"

"No I want to, preciosa. God I want- but I don't want to make you feel like you have to."

"You're not. I want you Pablo. All of you." You opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Dale, campeon."

You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.

"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.

"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.

"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.

"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.

"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.

"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.

"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.

"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.

"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.

"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.

"Pablo it's too good."

"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."

He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.

"Open up, pretty girl."

"Pablo, want you. Want you please."

"I'm right here, baby. All yours."

You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.

"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."

He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.

"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.

"Pablo. I..."

"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.

"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Please don't leave me after we have sex."

He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.

"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.

"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.

"Pablo," you whined.

He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.

"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.

"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.

"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.

"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."

You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.

"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.

"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.

"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.

"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.

"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"

You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.

"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."

"I love you more, Pablo."

"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."

He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.

[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano

The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.

"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."

His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.

"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."

There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.

"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."

"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.

"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."

"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."

"I hope you never stop."

A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.

*~*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 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738 @sideeblogsstuff @halaxxx @berriesaren

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boldstarks · 9 months ago

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The Unwanted Wife Blurb #2: The Bedchamber

word count: 765 words pairing: young!Robert Baratheon x wife!reader warnings: past emotional neglect of a spouse, slight OOC Robert, Robert kinda being a perv about his wife's post-pregnancy body

Today was the first night that you would share a bedchamber with Robert. You didn't know why you felt so nervous about it. You had shared a bed frequently after your marriage, but he had always gone back to his own chambers after the fact.

The first time that it happened on your wedding night, you were shocked. You couldn't help but cry yourself to sleep. The next day, one of your new ladies-in-waiting explained that southern nobles didn't share bedchambers as often as northern nobles. This made you want to weep once again.

Sure, your notions of love and happy endings had been shattered by Alyn's death, but you tried to be optimistic going into your marriage with Robert. Both of you had loved and lost; maybe you could find some common ground. Only for Robert to leave as soon as he completed his marital duty.

After Alaric's birth, you hoped to turn a new leaf in your relationship. Not only for his sake, but for your sake. You could not live with a careless husband in a castle where you knew no one and had no true allies.

You sat at your vanity, preparing yourself for bed. Unlike most ladies, you did not need a whole retinue of ladies' maids in order to dress and undress. Alaric is already settled into his cradle and is already asleep.

You finish taking apart the elaborate southern hairstyle that one of your maids painstakingly crafted for the day. Once your hair is in waves down your back, you make your way over to your son's cradle by your bedside. You sit by Alaric, who dozed off to sleep while you were getting ready.

"I hope you can see the Rills and the rest of the North one day, my son," you whisper to your sleeping baby.

"If you wish for our son to meet your family, it could be arranged," Robert said. His silent appearance makes you jump.

You turn to him, and he stands at the foot of your bed. He is wearing a doublet free of creases and stains.

"You haven't been drinking," you said, puzzled.

"No, Jon said women don't appreciate sleeping beside a lump of drunken flesh," Robert says, almost shyly.

The same shyness seems to have infected you. "Alaric has already fallen asleep."

"Umm, well, I guess we can go to sleep now then," Robert said, not moving from his spot.

"Maester Pycelle said we cannot lay together for another two weeks," you tell him, and you stand from the bed.

"I know, I ask about you and the boy's health twice a week," Robert admitted, inching closer to your bed.

"Oh," you say awkwardly.

You slip off your robe and pad over to the vanity. Robert can't help but watch. You leave the robe on the vanity chair and blow out the candles sitting on the vanity. The room feels intimate in the low light of the remaining candles. You return to bed, crawl under the covers, and begin making yourself comfortable.

Robert strips down to his small clothes and climbs in next to you. Both of you stare at the ceiling in silence; neither has any idea what to say to each other.

"I would like Alaric to see the Rills and the rest of the North when he is older," you tell Robert, hoping to cut through the tension.

"I'm sure Ned would put us up while we visit," Robert says. It's meant to be a joke.

You're silent for a moment before letting out a soft huff of laughter. Robert feels a flicker of shame when he realizes that this is the first time he has heard you laugh.

You let out a small yawn. "Good night, husband."

He feels you brush against him when you shift to lie on your side, your back facing him. In the soft glow of the remaining candlelight, Robert can't help but admire the curve of your hip underneath the blanket. He had already taken note of how your breasts had swelled before you gave birth. He wanted so desperately to discover and memorize any part of your body that had changed when you gave him a child. Unfortunately for the king, he had no choice but to wait another half a moon before bedding you again.

Little did Robert know that you were nursing your own feelings of lust and disappointment. There was nothing you could do, though, except burrow deep in the covers and try to ignore the curdling lust in the pit of your belly.

taglist: @kentstoji

#asoiaf #game of thrones #Robert Baratheon x reader #young!Robert Baratheon #young Robert Baratheon x reader #oc x reader #Lyanna Stark #northern!reader #ryswell!reader #stark!reader #game of thrones fanfiction

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leaderofthepack22 · 10 months ago

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I have some things to say about claire nakti

I know she is your favourite nakshatra girlie, I like the information she puts out as well (I do not like her as a person), as it is original STATISTICAL research (rare in astrology) and extremely affirming to the reality i went through as a 14 year old girl encountering Ketu MahaDasha, having Jyeshtha Moon (I have jyeshtha ketu conjunct jyeshtha moon). She talked about Ketu, and Mula Lunar mansion in a way that i could confirm the stuff she says has a solid backing of truth in it.

Now,

I am extremely concerned for women who take her misogynistic and patriarchal teachings to heart, worship her, create a cult around her, and think letting yourself “go” and submitting yourself to a man will liberate you (no it will not). She clearly has said that women are the inferior gender. You cannot debate me on that.

Then, claire nakti is baby-like extremely feminine (annoying high pitched voice) & extremely mysterious w/ the way she jots information together. She definitely is moon dominant as she looks like adison rae (hasta sun & shravana moon) after her nose job 😂🫵🏻 who is moon dominant. Since she is into traditional gender roles, & is extremely "traditionally" feminine, that clearly adds up to her "female path course" & how she suggests hasta as a key nakshatra in the female path according to "HER"

And, the VERY nature of Moon, the feminine planet she relegates herself, & all other women to, being like a conduit for a force bigger than you (she makes it very clear in her shravana video), channeling information FROM them rather than being the originator of light, you essentially reflecting and channeling a worthy ascended master's light;

This doesn't help with the fact that she came outta NOWHERE with that EAGLE symbolism in the jyeshtha shorts, because I have seen no Vedic scripture ever mention eagle for the Scorpio rashi (or a "3rd symbol" of jyeshtha, like she mentioned)

And she has admitted that she has a "guru", AND she made a video about “sleeping with your guru”.

Combined with her misogynistic portrayals of women, her being equally ’feminine’, her admitting she has a guru, her making a video on having sex with gurus which is VERY odd to me. Her looking like Addison rae, a moon dominant woman, her saying that "copying" someone else's light is le bad UNLESS.... you're a ""woman"" because you're ""lunar"" so it's OK. Her looking like another hasta moon singer Grace Kinstler and a YouTuber called Elizabeth filips with hasta moon, this just affirms to me claire being moon dominant, and simply reflecting and communicating another MAN's teachings. Why don't we let claire nakti's misogyny backfire on her????????? Why are we not questioning her extremely unhinged slut behaviour online and her saying that women are yin so therefore can't originate something with so much fucking confidence. Why don't we boldly say she fucked some guru and is now acting like she did all the research by herself and how is SHE the sole instigator OF HER EXTREMELY pioneering work as a Vedic astrologer with so much original content, as this ditzy blonde who came out of absolutely nowhere.

She lied about the fact that she isn't the only person behind her research, she clearly admitted she met her guru few decades ago and she started compiling physiognomy data with him(???)

I will never worship claire nakti. I hate the "nakshatra bad bitches" that orbit her. I am extremely suspicious and strict with claire nakti and her content and i most CERTAINLY separate ""HER"" from the information she channels. She is nothing to me.

Get your fucking shit together and question claire nakti a bit harder. Certainly don't worship her. Anyone with more than 2 braincells can sense she is not the originator of the information she puts out, and is a patriarchal princess dickwhipped out of her mind by her """guru""". Don't let yourself go and embrace ditziness and thinking it will make you this “Yoni Shakti divine feminine tantra goddess consort bhairavi sacred prostitute🤪🤪🤪✨✨”

She also claims to have been this once in a generation talent but couldn't rectify the ayanamsha mistake in Lahiri. The fact that she thinks lahiri ayanamsha is OK (the default ayanamsha indians chose in a hurry so they can go on celebrating their festivals in 1900 and is actually in need of SEVERE updating) and has used wrong people who don't even have the nakshatra she has talked about in her video concerning a particular nakshatra, was the nail in the coffin for me, confirming claire nakti is moon dominant, has a guru she is parroting etc. Being a STEM person, keeping Astrophysics in mind, i have delved into Indian Ephemeris vs Swiss Ephemeris, the whole ayanamsha discourse and I can easily tell lahiri and the vimshottari dashas from lahiri are 3 years off and ALL the antar-dashas are EXTREMELY off, (this will make 90% of the people in Vedic community look like absolute fools and this should induce a BOILING rage in you, how easily people have the audacity to open their mouth and spread wrong information that will NOT stand the test of time.) Lahiri ayanamsha is astronomically incorrect. The fact that Ernst Wilhelm also felt this exact way was affirming to my own discoveries, just like claire nakti affirming the inhaling and uprooting nature of ketu to me as a young teenager.

No YouTube guru is going to save you (certainly not a "woman", i mean, claire nakti said it) There are many things to rectify, perfect and question.

Good luck.

#vedic astrology #claire nakti #astrology #jyotish #important #nakshatras

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starsaroundsaturn · 11 months ago

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why do we accept the way that men (and yes, women too) act towards their partners in the romantic genre?

in this post, I'll be discussing sarah j maas, colleen hoover, the pretty little liars franchise, twilight, the vampire diaries, and many more.

many of these I happened upon as a teenager. even as a teenager, I saw some of these as overdramatic and even problematic, but I could see the appeal.

the love interests, all men in these instances, were obsessed with their partners. they were distracted about them.

regardless of the novel, the protagonist can be the stand in for the reader--I am almost certainly not the only one who imagined myself fighting the white witch in Narnia, eating at the Redwall feasts with my companions, dancing with a special someone at a ball, or saving the world with the spy kids. protagonists are made to be relatable, to be appealing, to be somebody we'd love to be or at least like to listen to throughout the story.

and in these romances, the main character is super special. she is the obsession, the person who drives others distracted, she is so, so wonderful that the love interest cannot resist her.

we all want to be that kind of special. we all want to be seen and known and loved and admired. it's not just human, it's human instinct. we want to be accepted, we want to be loved, because that's family, and family means we survive. we need people.

so this is a really attractive premise. this person who we can see ourselves in--she or he is irresistible.

I think that's where we fell into this pit. he can't resist her. he wants her so much he loses control over himself.

it sounded super romantic.

till it didn't anymore.

she is so special and irresistible that he ignores it when she says no (hoover). he's lost control so much that he obsesses over her and watches her when she sleeps and stalks her, because he wants to be with her all the time (twilight). she's so special to him that she's his (soul)mate, and he can't help it if he acts possessively over her all the time and can't bear men looking at her, because she's just that important and irreplaceable (maas). she might be his student, but that doesn't mean they don't belong together! (pretty little liars).

yeah.

when you say it like that.

but the thing is, if you don't think about it too hard--like a smaller me might not have--it sounds exactly like the dream. it sounds like Mr Darcy falling in love with Elizabeth against his better judgement--but then, when she doesn't want him, he leaves her alone, takes the advice she gives, helps her family when it's needed because he wants to take accountability for his mistakes. only when she initiates does he tentatively bring up his interest in her again. when he's accepted, he's overjoyed, and grateful for her love for him.

huh. crazy.

the fact is, I think we've gotten to be so used to the idea that love is madness that we don't realize when it really is unstable, unhealthy--and awful.

we want people to do great things for us. we want demonstrations of love that often we've lacked in our lives. we want somebody to be willing to drop everything to help us and make it better when we're lost. we want a pair of solid arms around us (and I include myself, uninterested in romantic relationships, in that population). (there's a reason I'm obsessed with friendships and father figures and siblings).

we want passion and adventure and excitement.

and I think romance novels, and those who still romanticize these relationships, look in the wrong direction. they take the phrases madly in love and irresistible in the direction of unstable, passionate desperation rather than steadfast care and devotion.

I loved the phrase madly in love when I was a kid. not so much anymore.

#romance #love story #meta

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bloopitynoot · 1 month ago

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Reading SVSSS: BONUS- Chapter 22

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Yall I am sick as heck. I tested for the plague and it does not seem to be that, but I defo have a head cold/sinus thing going on.

I did something wild and a little unhinged and made my matcha latte with a protein shake like i'm some sort of athlete instead of a feeble old man. I also have enough vitamins running through me courtesy of ener-c to fuel a football team.

Still feel like ass, but this chapter was a solid up to my day.

Before we even get into it, based on the title of this chapter I can already tell I am not ready. The fact that there are TWO Binghe's is already telling me there is a metric shit-ton of threesome PWP on Ao3

Oh! okay! It's like an immediate continuation of the story. I totally thought we would be skipping a bunch of time or something, yay! this is a good surprise. p11

I forgot about the bamboo house replica LBH made for SQQ. It is so cute that he got the bamboo to actually grow in this realm. p11

LOL ofc LBH is sulking because SQQ will not sleep in the same bed as him. p12

I feel like based on the chapter title and the behaviour of the Binghe we have here that this is not the sweet Binghe we know and love. p15

How has LBH constantly pulling AWAY from SQQ not triggered some red flags for this man. Normally LBH makes every excuse to attach himself to SQQ. p16

okay LOL now SQQ finally questions it p18

Ming Fan you fucking narc! No one asked you to go get the other peaks involved. so rude! p19

Dang. Liu Qingge really is all or nothing. He is truly doing the lords work trying to constantly save SQQ from himself. The fact that he keeps picking up his literal shit every time this guy gets himself into A Situation is telling. Not enough respect for this guy, truly. p21

Oh god, well. RIP SQQ because this LBH is most definitely an imposter! p23

(I literally cannot read what I wrote for this note/I think my hand was working slower than my brain and many words are missing in the sentence. I think I was TRYING TO SAY): This Binghe is evil as shit and SQQ still has not confirmed. I am a little bit worried if this Binghe is here- where is the other one????? Is he okay??? p26

Yeah! You correct that asshole Ying Ningning. (If you can't tell this character really grew on me- she had the glow up for sure for sure). p27

I do love that this evil Binghe get's to have some internal dialogue that we read, "Like fuck you do!" p28

OMG. This evil Binghe totally did read the BingQiu porn and is taking his "shizun" for a test run. Oh no! Does good Binghe stop this??? p31

Thank fuck SQQ finds out who this Binghe is (though he sort of was not complaining about the man handling at all). Bless for good Binghe for showing up too! pp32-33

Bless his heart, "In the end, he and Luo Binghe were too unfamiliar with each other's bodies. That was why it had taken him so long to figure out what was wrong here" P35 Okay but I do love that his response to all of this is definitely- "me and Binghe need to be more intimate in case this situation happens again. I will definitely fix this for the future".

The way SQQ is just clutching his pearls this chapter is killing me LOL the romance novel energy is too much. "Shen Qingqiu was stunned silent. Playing around with who? Playing around with me? Bing-ge you...you'd accept all corners?! Welcoming both men and women! Is this something like 'both meat and fish are fine- I'm not picky, I'll eat whatever I'm given'?" P37

SQQ: "What the fuck am I supposed to tell anyone..." Also SQQ: p39

Oh no! Bing-ge is getting into Bing-mei's head. Leave the poor boy alone, he is very sensitive. All the while SQQ is trying to get the little guy to just focus on dealing with Bing-ge. p41

Since this is a different Binghe, I have decided to add another dime to the demon blood mite bank. I believe we are at $0.60 which is TOO damn much. p44

It is highly effective! p46

Oh no. Now Bing-ge is having feelings. Understandable though- he really did get the shit story where in everything is terrible and he has no real support. Bro just wanted some softness. p47

Oop. Well. I guess Bing-mei is going to attempt to level up some skills today. p49

Luo Binghe and his Dick Weapon (TM). p52

Blessed be, we have some sort of lube. I am literally so glad for this. The way my body viscerally reacted to their last scene- this is not much of an improvement, but they are getting there. p55

Oh no, and they're both crying now. p57

Thank fuck his disciples did NOT decide to fix the roof. p60 that would have been one heck of a surprise.

Okay, but this is so tender. Look at them both growing and learning. p61

LOL LBH is DETERMINED to learn. "Shen Qingqiu knew what he wanted to ask and mercilessly spoke first, "awful." However this time, even after receiving criticism, Luo Binghe wasn't depressed. Rather, he exuberantly declared, "Yes, it was awful. Unacceptably awful." "what are you saying...?" "Because it was simply awful, this disciple requests that his Shizun assist him with further exploration." Well." p62

It could have been worse!

These two are so damn weird. Good for them, but also, it's too much LOL. One is self sacrificing, the other is needy as HELL. It must have been so weird for BIng-ge to witness; drastically different version of himself!

#bloopitynoot reads svsss #svsss spoilers #svsss #mxtx svsss #scum villans self saving system #scum villain #Does luo binghe ever get an A?#I guess we'll find out more next time

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aliciavance4228 · 1 month ago

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Before starting to talk about this subject I want to make one thing clear: Hephaestus is one of my favourite Greek Gods (either in Top 5 or Top 10), so I'm not writing this post because I dislike him, but because I cannot stand superficial/surfface-level depictions of greek gods' personalities, nor the simplification of them and the erasure of their nuances (either through romanticization or demonization).

I do appreciate the fact that a lot of people start to realize that the relationship between Aphrodite and Hephaestus was a disfunctional one and that both of them are happier with different people (Ares and Aglaea, respectively). However, the fact that many people are usually focusing only on Aphrodite's actions and ignore Hephaestus' abusiveness rubs me in a wrong way.

Now, referring to Hephaestus as an Incel or choosing to villainize him for that is not the best solution either. He wasn't the only god asking Zeus for a wife, nor the only one who presents a more or less misogynistic attitude towards women. We're talking here about Ancient Greece, so expecting the deities to act how we would expect them to act based on nowdays' principles and standards is unrealistic and juvenile. I would also like to point out the fact that Hephaestus is, according to Hesiod's Theogony, happily married with Aglaea, who is also described as his first and only wife. They also have four daughters according to Orphic Rhapsodies Frag. And yet he is the exact same deity that you guys claim to be an Incel, which is a contraditiction to the original meaning of the term. The word was ment to reffer to a category of men who blame their appearance for not being able to have sex (when in truth the reason why women don't want them is rather due to their personality and beliefs; and by beliefs I mean their tendency of objectifying women and having ridiculously high standards for their future wives while simultaneously getting offended when a woman has her own standards too). I can see Apollo and Hades falling into more Incel Stereotypes than him, considering the fact that one of them cursed many women for refusing to sleep with him, whereas the other literally had to kidnap a woman in order to have a wife. And yet nobody dares to call them Incels, just because they two aren’t described as being disabled nor falsely considered unattractive, unlike Hephaestus.

That being said, negating his wrongs and turning him into a woobie who did nothing wrong just because you cannot stand Aphrodite isn't a good way of perceiving their relationship either. While Aphrodite was indeed manipulative towards Hephaestus and her sleeping with his own brother in his bed was hardly admirable, I would also like to point out the fact that Hephaestus was pretty much toxic and revengeful towards her too.

Now, there are a lot of versions on how they got married as well as a lot of lost fragments, which leads to speculations rather than something 100% certain. So I won't talk about it purely because I want to avoid misinterpretiation and misinformation, and discuss directly about what intetests me the most.

Wheter or not Aphrodite willingly married him or loved him, what do we know for sure is that she preffered Ares more and had an affair with him all this time. Being cheated on is a form a betrayal from a partner, so Hephaestus being angry on her is understandable. However, instead of divorcing her directly, he decided to humiliate her in one of the worst ways possible before separating from her:

Quintus Smyrnaeus, Fall of Troy 14. 40 ff (trans. Way) (Greek epic C4th A.D.) :

"With cheek shame-crimsoned, like the Queen of Love, what time the Heaven-abiders saw her clasped in Ares' arms, shaming in sight of all the marriage-bed, trapped in the myriad-meshed toils of Hephaistos : tangled there she lay in agony of shame, while thronged around the Blessed, and there stood Hephaistos' self: for fearful it is for wives to be beheld by husbands' eyes doing the deed of shame."

On top of that, Hephaestus directed his wrath towards one of Aphrodite and Ares' daughters (Harmonia) and her descendants as well, despite the fact it wasn't technically her fault that she was fathered by his brother:

Statius, Thebaid 2. 265 ff (trans. Mozley) (Roman epic C1st A.D.) :

"The dread necklace of Harmonia . . . The Lemnian [Hephaistos], so they of old believed, long time distressed at Mars' [Ares'] deceit and seeing that no punishment gave hindrance to the disclosed armour, and the avenging chains removed not the offence [of his affair with Hephaistos' then wife Aphrodite], wrought this [a cursed necklace] for Harmonia on her bridal day to be the glory of her dower [description of the necklace follows] . . .

The work first proved its worth, when Harmonia's complaints turned to dreadful hissing, and she bore company to grovelling Cadmus, and with long trailing breast drew furrows in the Illyrian fields [the pair were turned into serpents in Illyria]. Next, scarce had shameless Semele [their daughter] put the hurtful gift about her neck, when lying Juno [Hera] crossed her threshold. Thou too, unhappy Jocasta, didst, as they say, possess the beauteous, baleful thing, and didst deck thy countenance with its praise - on what a couch, alas! to find favour; and many more beside. Last Argia shines in the splendour of the gift, and in pride of ornament and accursed gold surpassed her sister's mean attiring. The wife of the doomed prophet [Eriphyle wife of Amphiaraus] beheld it, and at every shrine and banquet in secret cherished fierce jealousy, if only it might be granted her to possess the terrible jewel, nought profited, alas!"

Furthermore, I would also like to emphasize the fact that Hephaestus had a considerable amount of lovers. And while timeline is another uncertain aspect and he might have slept with those women before he married Aphrodite and/or between the moment when he divorced her and the one when he remarried, the possibility of him cheating on Aphrodite isn't an impossible one. In this case, that could be taken as a Double Standard, and his reaction when he found out that Aphrodite was cheating on him would be completely hypocritical.

As I said, Aphrodite was abusive and toxic towards him as well. But deciding to solely demonize her instead of acknowledging that both of them were abusive and toxic towards each other -I don't like to use this term but I can't find another one for the moment- is purely slut-shaming. Some of you guys are complaining about how "Hera has no agency" and were praising Kaos for portraying her as cheating on Zeus despite the fact that this is out of her character because "He finally got a taste of his own medicine", yet when Aphrodite cheats on her possible unfaithful husband she's suddenly a whore. You guys want a goddess who can be sexually active without any sort of inhibitions, yet when Aphrodite is brought into discussion there's at least one person who won't hesitate to call her all slurs for that, whereas Demeter is turned into a prude on top of being a Helicopter Parent in many fanfictions and retellings (because apparently when a woman becomes a mother she cannot care about anything else).

So instead of choosing one extreme or another where a) Aphrodite is a brainless slut and Hephaestus a poor woobie or b) Aphrodite is a helpless victim and Hephaestus an Incel who deserved to be cheated on, perhaps it would be a better idea to treat them as humane, realistic figures, instead of some sort of cartoonish caricatures who can easily fit into whatever labels and tropes you want them to fit in.

#greek mythology #greek gods #hephaestus #aphrodite #ramblings

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charismaofobedience · 1 year ago

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Hi and welcome to my professional analysis on whether the hypmic men could survive rios bootcamp. All the statements on this are facts and cannot be simply disagreed upon without proof. The assessment to each individual ranking can be found under

Rio - that's rio. easy

Ichiro - I think running around ikebukuro doing errands gives him some pretty good stamina AND strength to get through it all, could do it no problem and would possibly have fun doing it which is an added bonus for doing well

Kuko - Monk training gives him good strength and stamina to do it! Even if he couldn't do something, I feel like kuko would somehow end up doing it out of sheer spite due to others doubting him

Dice - Dice gets through so much shit I think he'd do it no problem only to die AFTER it's all done if this makes sense. Plus he does hang out with Rio so this man should have some training under his belt

Hitoya - special clause for this old man. I would put him with jakurai and rei BUT. You have to consider he deals with kuko and jyushi on basically a daily basis. Kuko alone probably gives this man strength to do it if we are being honest

Samatoki - could do it. Samatoki is pretty strong and all but I don't think this man could go through the pushups for long when we consider the state of his lungs. He has the strength but I don't think he has the proper stamina for it, however, he'd do it and just act like it's nothing

Ramuda - don't be fooled by the cute face. Ramudas high energy comes into play here and helps a lot, especially with stamina, even if the strength is lower than others. It also, however, depends highly on this thing WANTING to do the boot camp or not, which has a high chance of not wanting to unless necessary and, even if doing it, ramuda would whine throughout it.

Jiro - Ichiros brother, also doing shit around ikebukuro. The fact he's good at sports also helps a lot here! He'd do pretty well, however, even with the stamina being here, I don't think his strength is at the levels of the ones above to put him there

Hifumi - would rush through it and do it easily if only to check onto doppo who's currently dying on the floor, so it would take some small time. Gigolo would do it well but only if there are women around to impress them so it's a highly dependant case

Rosho - current maths teacher ex bad boy or whatever the shit. due to his age he has some difficulties surely BUT the strength from his past absolutely is still around. The main problem would be stamina

Jyushi - you need to scare them before and then they'd be rushing through everything to get it done quickly. Also highly dependant on if the vkei clothes are actually there or not, if they are, they're passing out almost immediately due to heat

Doppo - i don't think this man knows what an exercise is, you could easily fold him in half. Lives his life in an office and getting home just cries himself to sleep like the average office worker in Japan. F.

Gentaro - Oya do you really think I could not do this Daisu ufufu ^-^ immediately falls to the floor and passes out. Look at the way this man dresses. Another case of heatstroke in this cast. Even if he was wearing lighter clothes he's a writer and reader, does not even know what an exercise is meant to look like. Would instead pull a book out of nowhere and read while the others go through the bootcamp

Saburo - 14 years old hacker who absolutely stays up late doing tech stuff. Do I need to say more.

Sasara - he'd do one push up and a silly goofyass sound effect like point would play. It means his spine broke.

Jyuto - cop + look at the way he's built

Jakurai - he is healthy, don't get me wrong! However his old man bones aren't meant for this anymore!!!!!! Just let him rest. While the others are doing the push-ups just let him go to these public elder academy places

Rei - dies in 13 seconds max.

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 3 months ago

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Pairing(s): Billy Butcher x Reader x Logan Howlett, Billy Butcher x Reader, Billy Butcher x Becca Butcher, Logan Howlett x Reader, brief mention of past!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: ft.deadpool, denial of feelings, more complicated shit, soldier girl au, butcher be losing his gd mind with jealousy, crossover, marvel x the boys, brief invincible mention

Wade giggles loudly next to Logan, the binoculars pressed against his eyes so he could get a better look. "Wow! Sugar Tush really has a type!! Sexy, dark, bearded and brooding!"

"I told you not to call her that."

"Hey, I'm just calling them like I sees them! And she's got a rocking a-"

Logan snatches the binoculars out of Wade's hands before giving him a rather harsh bop on the head.

He should have never let Deadpool drag him along to stalk Billy Butcher. Damn curiosity got the better of him though. This guy was after him due to a few unfortunate casualties in Logan's escapades. You tried not to mention Butcher when you were with Logan.

This was the guy who got to have you with him every day while Logan was lucky if he could find a couple of hours with you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Logan was old enough to know better, learn from his past mistakes with women and relationships in general. You though. . . God you drove him crazy. Your witty mouth and the cute way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. And the fact that he knew how you liked your coffee (the lightest splash of creamer accompanied by a dash of cinnamon) and your favorite show to relax to was something as simple as the Office. He was growing attached to you in a domestic way that he couldn't allow.

You preferred to sleep on the left side of the bed and always had one leg sticking out of the covers.

Butcher took you for granted. Too focused on a lost love when you were right in front of him.

"Earth to Peanut." Deadpool waves a hand in front of Logan's face. "You there space ranger? What'cha wanna do? We can take this guy out right now. Easy peasy. Then Sugar Tush is all our's."

"You're not involved in this." Snaps Logan. Pivoting on his heel, he goes for the rooftop door.

Truth was he could've killed Butcher many times now. Of course he'd fantasized about it. No one would benefit from Butcher's death. Not even Logan. He couldn't have the kind of life he desired with you for many reasons.

He can hear Wade's footsteps close behind him in the stairwell. "You're just gonna let that guy have her? That's not very romantic of you. From the noises that come out of your room when the two of you are together, it sounds more like lovemaking than raw pounding. And true lovemaking like that cannot exist without pure love!"

"Will you shut the fuck up. I don't love her. And I'm not doing anything. I got enough problems trying to evade that Butcher guy as it is. I don't want to get even more involved."

"You made beautiful love to his woman, that's pretty involved."

Logan grabs Wade and tosses him down the stairs.

He didn't love you.

A constant prayer repeated in his mind. You were just a phenomenal lay. Simple as that.

Fuck he wished it was simple. Nothing about you was simple though.

The next few days proved quiet for Logan. No sign of Butcher or even that scrawny kid you called 'Hughie'.

And there was nothing coming from your end. Dead silence. He was hoping with the quiet, you would go back to texting him. It was proving too quiet for him.

Were you okay?

He rubs his knuckles, willing his anxiety to subside.

And unconsciously Logan found himself changing the channel on his tv to Vought News. Your life was interlaced with Vought, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not.

He had to take this chance. Finally knew where his Becca was and had formulated a plan to see her. Even if it meant abandoning the team. They'd be alright. Besides Hughie, you and MM had everything under control.

And, well, Butcher was fairly sure you were moving on from his grasp. Not that you were his to begin with. Damnit you were right about there being no exclusivity between the two of you. He had no claim over your body. You were free to have sex with whomever you wished. Butcher was still married after all. Finding out that his Becca was alive put his mind back into the true focus of his mission.

Still. . .

The idea of someone else's hands touching you nagged at him relentlessly. It was starting to burn a hole in his insides. He didn't like it. Didn't like the hickeys on your neck that he KNEW weren't from him or that you smelled of another man's scent. That bothered him. Some guy leaving his scent on you like a claim to you.

Who was it? Who was the fucker that thought they were strong enough to be in your life?

No one in the Boys, that was for sure. Maybe one of your exes? That Mark Grayson hadn't reared his head in a while.

Someone from Vought? Nah. You hated Vought more than anything.

Shaking his head free of thoughts of you, Butcher pushes forward through the thicket of trees that encased his Becca's gilded cage. She was within his grasp. Before long he'd be whisking her away, saving her from this long suffering nightmare. If he had her back everything would be okay. And he wouldn't have to be feeling conflicted about you. He wouldn't be plagued by the image of you pulling your lover into one of your intoxicating kisses.

Even when he finally gets Becca alone for a moment, Butcher can't keep you out of his waking thoughts.

Now that he'd left the Boys, were you back in your lover's arms? Happy and content?

Did that man sate you the same way Butcher did? Did this stranger without a face have you producing little kitten mewls when he went down on you? Had that fucker enough time to map out all of your freckles?

He shouldn't be thinking of you.

But you were constantly on his mind.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #the boys series #the boys #butcher the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys prime #the boys imagine #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett wolverine #logan wolverine #logan howlett

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mahi-wayy · 5 months ago

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Hey I read your latest post so I was thinking if u can do one for Rocky??and loved your latest post

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝒀

• General • Romantic [both sfw and nsfw]

I - GENERAL

has a bad depression, gets anxious and snappy when things doesn't go his way.

violence = coping

DO NOT MENTION mothers he will loose control.

cries thinking about his mother when he drinks too much.

will die before admiting the previous fact.

has a drinking problem, smokes relatively less.

wears expensive perfume, even before coming to kgf.

has OCD when it comes to his cloth, if he is not in fight he cannot have dust or anything else on them.

flees everytime Qasim chacha mentions a haircut of beard trimmig.

in love with his own wild look.

either the peak of narcissism or the bottom of the self hatred. no in between.

don't act cute with him, you're just pissing him off.

SHORT-FUCKING-TEMPERED. kindly watch it.

grew up with a bunch of boys under Qasim chacha and considers the whole groups his family.

don't even think about bad mouthing his family- seriously why would you even think abt it unless you have death wish.

killed shetty's nephew because he said something about his family.

spoils himself.

makes sure no one on the fields sleep without a meal or a roof over their head.

often found sitting with the labor and chatting.

most women in kgf call him bhaiya or son depending on the age.

makes sure the security is top notch not only in the mansion but the fields too.

II - ROMANTIC

SFW

makes the first move. he has a big mouth so he uses it.

flirts like no tomorrow.

a stalker but never harms the person.

can and will shoot anyone who gets too close to his partner.

possessive to another level.

dude is morally grey he doesn't care that he is following you anywhere and everywhere or killing people for you.

loves going out.

late night dates>>>

loves roaming around in silent city with his partner.

has weird habit of carrying them like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder.

NSFW

a full blown dom.

like I said he has a big mouth. HE LOVES USING IT.

hard dom but his partner is always the priority.

got a daddy kink the size of kgf.

bondage kink.

praise kink the size of the globe.

groans in a deep growly voice.

loves overestimating his partner.

__________

tags: @vijayasena @voidsteffy @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl [let me know if you wanna be added]

#rocky kgf #kgf #headcanons #mahi rambles

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trancylovecraft · 1 year ago

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(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER EIGHT)

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AO3 link

CHAPTER EIGHT: "You’re scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it’s not much but there’s proof"

Trauma from growing up too fast is rather severe, Causes of this can include homelessness, Parental Abuse, ETC.

Symptoms can include the belief that you need to always be strong and are disconnected from your needs, Believing that you cannot ask for help being isolated and distrustful.

It is very hard for the person to express their needs to another person, Even sometimes having trouble recognising that they have needs.

Her feet brushed against the thin wood of her sandals. Pushing in her toes she fastened the tie over them. Tapping the heel once she deemed it was steady and stood up.

Rubbing her eyes, [F/N] yawned as she stretched. The sleep rolling off her muscles as she groggily dragged her feet over to the closet. Despite having a good few hours of rest, She still felt tired.

The darkness of the room was barely an afterthought as she lumbered over to the closet and stood in front of it. The old wood coupled with splinters wasn't a bother either, The entire room that felt so foreign faded into an unwillingly familiar terrain.

Opening up the old closet door with a creek she was greeted with the row of kimono's and other accessories organised neatly inside. She sighed, They were new and exactly her size. Her fingers itched, How he knew her measurements exceeded her.

It had been a good few days since her encounter with Akaza, Or at least she thinks so. There was no clock to tell the time or anything that could even signal day or night. Everything was dark constantly, Her best estimate on the time was that she had fallen asleep sixteen times. A number she tallied onto the wall beside her futon.

After her talk with him she recalled the very next 'morning' what he did. It was weird to say the least, Why were all the demon's she encountered thus far been so strange?

At first it was just the fact he didn't raise a hand against women, Sure that was a bit odd on its own but it was ignorable if not irritating. But then it was when he escorted her back to bed when she was in pain was when his irregularity was glaringly obvious.

Demons don't show kindness, They don't. That's what [F/N] had been telling herself all this time, For all her life. Though she never had any feelings towards demons as a whole she recognised their behaviour.

Everything was weird, And she needed to accept that.

[F/N] didn't know what it was, It was probably what Akaza said that day. She was pathetic, She tried to escape once then gave up. That's what he said, At the time she had felt insulted and exposed. Like she was dropped naked into freezing water, It was uncomfortable and it made her mad.

But with the time she had to mull over his words she had came to the conclusion that yes, He was right.

Even though she had only tried once within the two day timeframe it was the days afterwards that really proved him right. [F/N] had tried running again, Putting a single foot onto the old docks before getting cold feet and backing out.

All this time she had been rotting away in her hopelessness, A dull feeling of weakness and vulnerability. She had focused on her sorrow so much that she couldn't even fathom the idea of finding another escape route.

She had to press her hands up against the molding wood at one point, Pushing her forehead against it and ignoring the splinters.

[F/N] had to breathe in and out, Confirming the bark was corporeal to the touch.

[F/N] was here. She was here and she needed to accept that.

[F/N] had no time to focus on how she felt right now, Her feelings don't matter. Cry later when you're out of here, Your emotions won't help you survive. Will they?

She bit her tongue and the way she sifted through the various kimono's grew a bit more focused. Akaza had helped her on that front too, This was the first time in ages she had actually decided to change out of her jinbei and into actual day clothes.

Though she hadn't showered, Something she was in dire need of with her greasy hair and sweat pressed skin. [F/N] would need to see if there was still a communal bathing place here, Hoping it wasn't taken out of the modifications Kokushibo made.

Kokushibo, Right.

He had arrived back to the shrine after being called by that man. [F/N] had been waiting on the edge of her seat (Or in this case, Futon) for the news. Would she be killed? Would she be tortured for information? The possibilities for what could of happened went awry in her mind.

Though nothing ever came of it. The next time she saw him was when he dropped off another bowl of soba on her vanity, He had said a curt hello before leaving. It was cold, She figured he was sticking to his promise of 'No affection' and to her he was doing it perfectly.

[F/N] figured that she was safe, It was nothing to worry about. He was probably just called for some routine Uppermoon Business, Or whatever that could be. Muzan probably didn't know she was here, If he did he would of been here to get information out of her by now.

After that Kokushibo had been very hands off, [F/N] found out that he had a sort of schedule where he'd be present in the shrine for a few hours before leaving for another good few.

[F/N] had assumed that was her sign of night and day. Kokushibo would leave at night and return in the mornings just to escape the sun. While he was here he didn't speak to her much, Keeping to his promise.

The most interaction they had was the meals he delivered to her. Breakfasts tending to be bowls of rice and miso soup, Lunches often being steamed vegetables and dinner being some kind of fish that he had caught.

Most of the time they ended up not being touched. Little nibbles here or there before [F/N] started to become full, Proceeding to abandon the dish in favour of searching around the shrine.

Apart from that she only caught him in passing down the hallways, They made no move to speak but his eyes always shifted to her. Examining and scrutinizing her, Looking like a judge to a convict all before they finally passed by and went on their own paths.

[F/N] shivered afterwards, Every time he was out of sight she'd sigh and continue on trying to forget the burning gaze he held. She often wondered what his game-plan was.

Was he trying to deprive her of social interaction? If so then it wouldn't work, She didn't want to speak to him. [F/N] didn't need social interaction, Not at all, Not in the slightest.

That's what she would like to think. In truth she felt words choke up her throat, Words wanting to spill out whenever she passed him.

Humans by nature were social creatures, She was no exception. Even though [F/N] was particularly anti-social in personality she did require interaction which often came from the Kakushi or her colleagues back home.

Now it was just him and her, The only source of communication. Well, Him, Her and Akaza that is.

He often arrived in the shrine when Kokushibo left, It seems like they rotated in shifts. Whenever Kokushibo left Akaza would be keen on entering, She could tell by the sounds of the poor dummy being punched around again and again in the courtyard.

[F/N] and Akaza didn't talk much either, Mostly because [F/N] didn't see him at all. She didn't wander out into the courtyard, On the rare occasion she did he wasn't there. Bad timing to be accountable.

Though as she finally picked out a kimono. A beautiful white with blue flower patterns brushing against the bottom, Splotches of gold to break it up and a navy obi to tie it all together she was hit with an idea.

Akaza. His behaviour the first time they met, It struck a chord in her. The language, The way he talked and the energy he gave off finally connected together. If she wanted to get out, It wouldn't hurt to gain an ally or two would it?

[F/N] on her own was practically useless. She was feeble and weak which is why she relied on things like weapons and others to keep her raised high. Akaza, The Uppermoon three despite how much she disfavoured his personality was strong and capable.

As she carefully draped the kimono around her shoulders and wrapped the indigo obi around her waist she brewed the thought inside her mind. It was the first step, The one she couldn't take earlier on the dock.

Fixing her oily hair and throwing on her signature haori she walked out of the room, Ready to bargain.

☆♡☆

The sun was rose high, A blinding white within the crystallin blue sapphire surrounding it.

The cool near frosty breeze was an after affect of the leaving winter. Birds awoken from their long sleep sung rhapsodies in the air, The tree's and bushes they sat on were abundant in a healthy basil green.

The entire scene was reminiscent of a Monet painting, Flowers and foliage in bloom. It was beautiful, The Kakushi assigned to take care of it took great patience in trimming and tending to the garden.

Inside the house all the Hashira gathered, At least the one's that were left. The shoji doors opened to let the outside scenery in as they sat together in a rectangular position. The Ubuyashiki estate was rife with life today, Yet the conversation's were dead and the air felt suffocating to be in.

All of the events were a hot topic none of them wanted to talk on. From Rengoku's unfortunate death, Tengen's retirement and the demise of [F/N]. The last time they had met it was on a lighter note, This is the first time they'd all been together since.

Sanemi and Iguro kept their heads down low, Not speaking a word. Despite the wide smile on her face, Shinobu did not tease or try to communicate with Giyuu. Gyomei and Muichiro not talking and keeping to themselves.

Usually at meetings before there would be a higher tone in the air. Tengen would be himself, Talkative and as he would put it: Flashy. Rengoku was always social as well, Always looking out for his teammates.

[F/N] often didn't show up to meetings but when he did he tended to always be in a good mood. While he didn't try to talk and kept quiet he did have his moments with a sarcastic comment, A relaxed conversation and a rare argument with either Sanemi or Iguro.

While he wasn't generally liked or paid attention to, He was still a core member of the team. Not to mention the dynamic he had with Mitsuri, The two were often inseparable and when Mitsuri was around it was only her who could bring out a charismatic and laid-back side of him.

Mitsuri, She hadn't shown up yet. It was strange but it wasn't unexpected. All of the Hashira had heard about her state from both Iguro and Shinobu, The way she appeared the last time they met and the breakdown was all accounted for.

The story they had told back then was gut-wrenching. The state she was in, The rut she called a bed and one she couldn't get out of.

Though they had told it in such detail both Shinobu and Iguro had agreed afterwards to leave some particular details out. Example being the way in which he died as well as the note.

Mitsuri was also a prime member of the tone, Her bubbly nature was infectious and could reach the heart of basically anyone. Her prescence missing was like a lost limb to the attitude, She was often one of the first that arrived.

They hoped while the master was still absent that she would return, In what state however… They had decided to wait on her, It was only right. While the majority didn't expect much, Shinobu's intuition had been telling her otherwise. A gut feeling proven right once the unnaturally loud sound of sliding shoji door's fed into the room.

A sudden jolt of noise. Everyone's head snapped round in a single motion, All in tandem. It was a noise that broke them all out of their own thoughts and theories to drag their eyes up to Mitsuri standing straight in the doorframe.

"Good morning everyone!" Mitsuri greeted. Wide smile stretching ear to ear to show off her pearly whites. Her eyes contained a bright shine inside of them, Swirling around like fish in a pound with her cheeks flushed with a burning blush.

If the silence wasn't static before it certainly was now, Eyes widening and shock coursing throughout their systems at the sight of her.

Mitsuri by all means was looking better than ever. Her hair was well washed and perfectly tied into her tri-braids, Her skin was as clear as her glassy shamrock eyes. Her uniform tidy and neat with her haori like dove feathers completely spotless.

She looked amazing, Revitalized like the first snow in winter or the blossom of cherries in the spring. Her entire energy radiated like the sun and glowed so bright, And that was why it was so striking. So contrasting to the dowry mood in the room.

"Sorry I'm late! Ah, It's really embarrassing but I had to stop by to get a snack or two. The vendor made it sound so appetising and- Kyah~! I just couldn't resist!" Mitsuri squealed. Fanning her burning cheeks.

She pranced over to an empty seat on the tatami mat, Completely oblivious to the looks and the suffocating air in the room. Mitsuri quickly plopped down onto the seat and sat cross-legged while humming a tiny tune.

The rest of The Hashira sat in a stunned silence. They thought when she arrived, If at all, She would appear washed up. From the recount of Shinobu and Iguro they expected a deep frown, Messy hair and ragged uniform. Even without the tale they expected as such.

But seeing her so.. Upbeat was concerning. The only Hashira in the room not to appear as such was Shinobu, Already aware of the reason yet kept quiet, Believing that it wasn't her story to tell.

"Erm.. Kanroji-san?" Iguro decided to speak up first. His voice hesitant and slow as if she was a ticking explosive, Ready to detonate any moment as he eyed her up and down. Checking for any cracks.

"Yes, Obanai-san?" Mitsuri replied. Pep in her voice as she looked over to him with that same gleam. It was the one she use to wear regular, It was the one she had lost when he saw her last.

"Are you.. Are you okay?" Iguro asked. Kabamaru circled round his neck once and peaked out from behind his choppy mop of hair, Curious and concerned for the girl sitting only a few feet away from them.

Mitsuri's smile grew wider.

"I feel amazing, Oh-" Mitsuri paused, Smile dropping slightly "If this is about last time then I'm really sorry, I shouldn't of spoke to you like that and I am so so sorry!" Mitsuri bowed down low in a near comical motion, Genuine regret bouncing off her tone as she did.

Gyomei's beads rattled, The tears flowing down his cheeks shown his tone once he decided to speak up.

"Kanroji-san.. I do believe that is not what we are worried about here. I understand you and Fujimori-san were close, So your happy voice is a bit.. Jarring." Gyomei spoke in a lamenting tone, His voice was as big as him as he spoke.

"It's a tragedy.. Fujimori-san had planned on retiring and he was killed only a few days before. It makes my heart wretch.. A poor man he was, But strong and respectable.." Gyomei said.

His brows furrowed slightly. Him and [F/N], The tension that they carried felt so faraway now. They never got along, Had opposing views and philosophies. They never agreed on anything yet Gyomei had always held honour and care for his colleagues.

Gyomei regretted his words, The last conversation they had didn't end in a good note. He had tried calling him out on his behaviour towards being a Hashira, Gyomei admits he was rather harsh.

Back then he had gotten in a fight with his former child, Kaigaku. He felt weakness course through him, Gyomei couldn't bring himself to behead the boy even though he knew it was for the best. Choosing to only assist from the side-lines, The shock on knowing what he had become was too much.

His frown deepened. If he only took charge and gave him the merciful kill he would've been able to get back to the shrine and assist [F/N], Maybe then he wouldn't of been killed and that thought ravaged his mind everyday on.

Mitsuri raised her head, Reverting back to her original position. She looked over to Gyomei, She was unaverred along with her smile.

"I'm not sad, Himejima-san. Not anymore. I'm guessing from your reaction that Shinobu-san didn't tell you what really happened" Mitsuri inquired, Situation only catching on now.

"Correct, I didn't think it was my place to say." Shinobu answered for him. Nodding slightly with that ever-present smile only dimming slightly by the mention of the events. Mitsuri nodded back in confirmation.

Sanemi decided to speak, Raising a non-existent eyebrow.

"Events? The hell you talkin' bout." He chimed in, Gruff and semi-aggressive tone finally showing itself in response to the hint of information. The out of line tone he wore seemed to break the suffocation if only a little bit.

"Shinazugawa-san.. Please, This isn't a time to be informal.." Giyuu pipped up though was instantly shot a look at by Sanemi, One that made Giyuu look away. Stoic expression still on his face.

Even though he wanted to, Sanemi didn't speak again.

The silence set in once more and Mitsuri decided to take the chance. It needed to be said, They needed to know what happened.

"..Well, If I'm being honest with you all.. The events back at the shrine didn't go exactly as it did in the report." Mitsuri started. Even though her words were serious they were said with such a light-hearted tone that made them seem so small.

"Why would the report lie..?" Muichiro pondered softly, The first comment he contributed was with dull eyes and a cloudy expression.

"It didn't exactly lie, Most of what happened was true however there were some bits that are wrong due to.. Withheld information." Mitsuri explained, Turning her head over to the young boy.

"Withheld information?" Gyomei inquired, Rattling the beads once more.

"Yeah, The information that I failed to provide was the way [F-.. Right, Should probably clarify first.." Mitsuri cleared her throat, Turning to the rest of the room. Shinobu looked back at Mitsuri, Ready to jump in if needed.

"Before I say the important piece of information.. I need to say that [F/N], The head shrine maiden at the Kakushi base and Fujimori-san are the same person." Mitsuri announced.

Eyes widened, Heads tilted and frowns deepened. The new knowledge being a shock. They wanted to speak, Question the impossible new knowledge. The two looked and acted completely different.

One was jovial and relaxed, Tended to forget his duties as a slayer and was generally unserious. The other was a hard-working associate of the Ubuyashiki family, One that never seemed to crack a smile and kept quiet.

They wanted to question it, But Mitsuri wasn't finished.

"Before you say anything! Please let me finish before you ask questions." Mitsuri butted in. The questions dying at the tongue and kept back by the closing of the jaw. Sanemi and Gyomei were confused, Giyuu and Iguro were curious. Iguro especially since he thought them being the same was the only piece of information she had.

Mitsuri gripped the edge of her skirt.

"The information I wanted to give you was about the way [F/N]-san died. While your report was correct on the part that she was killed by a demon.. The truth is.." Mitsuri trailed off, Taking a deep breath in.

"[F/N] killed herself."

The rattling of beads stopped.

Heads snapped back around. Eyes expanded to that of like saucers and jaws dropped open. Shinobu looked back at Mitsuri and nodded in encouragement as the entire room fell to a dead silence.

The entire reaction was a mixed bag. Sanemi's expression for the first time turned blank, No sign of aggression or emotion.. Just.. Nothing. A rare visage he never wore but now was displayed entirely.

Giyuu's lips parted. Eyelids rising at the last word spoken.

Iguro's calm expression he had before winced slightly.

Gyomei didn't speak, Nor made any motion to move. Though he had been compared before, His likeness to that of a statue now was uncanny. None of his muscles moving an inch.

"Killed.. Herself?" Muichiro muttered. The only indifference he showed now was the slight lowering of his eyebrows and the misty sapphire in his eyes start to part. He spoke as if testing the words on his tongue, A foreign concept, One completely unheard of.

Before Mitsuri could answer, Another voice butted in.

"What are you tryin' to feed me here? First your saying Fujimori-san was [F/N], Then you're telling us that he killed himself?! Bull. Shit!" Sanemi snapped, The baring of his teeth and his slowly rising figure was enough to show that.

"Shinazugawa-san, Please sit down." Shinobu called out as she watched the man get to his feet, Not bothering to look back at her as his eyes were stabbing straight into Mitsuri who didn't falter once.

"Fujimori-san was a rat bastard, I'll give you that. But him killing himself? You've got to be joking. Even if he did for what reason would he even do it? For fucks sake the man did this job for the fun of it. He had no fucking worries at all so why?!" Sanemi snapped.

His anger was unprecedented, It was unexpected too. Of all people she expected him to shrug it off like he usually did, Toss his head to the side and huff as if the act [F/N] did was simply nothing.

Instead he stood as if he was about to throw a punch, A fighting stance bracing for impact at the same time. His teeth were gnarled and his usual eyes that held a crazy look in them seemed tenfold now.

"Shinazugawa-san, Sit down.." Gyomei's voice cut through the rapidly building tension in the room. His voice echoed and was authoritative, Not unlike that of a disappointed father.

Sanemi turned around to face Gyomei, His stance still wide and strong yet it dimmed under the older man's presence.

"Kanroji-san has not finished.. Sit down and we'll discuss this afterwards." Gyomei rumbled. Still in his position, Unwavering and strong.

Sanemi hesitated, Looking at the man once before taking a step back. He turned back once more to Mitsuri before stomping off back to his seat and promptly sitting down, Anger dissipated as his head hung low. Waiting for the next few words.

"Thank you, Himejima-san.." Mitsuri nodded towards him in gratitude. "So, I understand how this can be a bit unbelievable, I know.. I was like that too.."

Mitsuri's hand traced the edge of her thick vanilla haori before snaking inside. Fishing around before reeling back and presenting a folded piece of paper, Raising it up high to display to the entire room. Brows were raised at the piece of paper, Faces contorted into all sorts.

"Kanroji-san.. That's not what I think it is. Right?" Giyuu spoke up, Eyes locked on to the fibre caressed between the girl's fingers. Giyuu was the first to realise, The only one to point it out before she did.

"Yes. This right here is the proof you need, This is [F/N]'s suicide note. Her last words spoken.. Or.. Written down." Mitsuri announced. Determination burned within the clover ocean of her eyes, Shine on the sea's surface glistened like foam.

"A.. A suicide note? Fujimori-san wrote a note.." Muichiro repeated slowly, Seeming contemplating over the words now revealed to them.

He wasn't alone, The entire room's eyes were dead set on Mitsuri. No one made a move to speak. People like Sanemi or Iguro only looked at her like she had three heads. Muichiro, Giyuu and Gyomei's expressions were simply blank and focused while Shinobu just wore her usual smile.

Mitsuri unfolded the paper. The rustling of the flaps coming undone seemed so loud, Ringing like deafening church bells within the confines of the room.

She brought the final piece back down, Levelling it with her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Mitsuri inhaled.

All before her lips parted and she began to speak.

☆♡☆

SLAM!

The back of the patchwork dummy hit the courtyard walls with force that made the old structure shake.

It dropped down to the floor, Bits of stuffing surrounding it once more. Akaza stood only about a metre away, Panting, Out of breath from his non-stop attack. It had been going on for so long that even a demon such as him felt tired, An oddity.

He leaned back up from his hunched position. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and the rest of his body was basically drenched in the stuff, Staining patches into his sleeveless haori.

The warmth of the courtyard contributed to that, The only place with any semblance of heat within this cold hell of a shrine. Despite being a dull and dreary nightmare it was the only place that had any sort of privacy within the infinity castle.

Stalking over slowly to the defeated ragdoll he reached down, Picking it up by its left shoulder and setting it back in place. The ragdoll swivelled around a little before he stepped back to prepare once again, Raising his fists.

To perfect his form, That's why he did this. To crease over any little crack and imperfection in his technique. What position of his hand can make it fly back the furthest? How fast can he throw a punch?

The dummy sufficed to practice on his surface level form. It was an inanimate object in the shape of a person, One that stayed still and let him do as he pleased.

And that's why it was so annoying to him.

Akaza lowered his fists, The expression of fire burning bright and ready to fight died out on his face. It was useless. It didn't matter, This wasn't a human being or a strong Hashira to fight.

Akaza 'tched and turned around away from the thing. A Hashira was strong, Powerful. A Hashira could fight back and read his attacks, They could provide the right information to him, Ways to get stronger. To hone his technique and reach perfection.

He was at a point where he was weaker than both Uppermoon one and two, A fact that made him grit his teeth and clench his fists. But he was way stronger than any of the late moons below him.

He was in the middle, He was average. He was Uppermoon three out of six.

It was a limbo he couldn't escape. One he had tried several times and why he had tried to convince so many Hashira to turn and become a demon. They provided the information, When they fought Akaza could feel himself grow stronger. It was powerful, Invigorating even.

But they never accepted his offer, One to fight and spar forever. To grow stronger together, To climb the ranks and become the strongest of all. It irked him to no end, He didn't understand. Why wouldn't they want to accept?

He had no clue. To him it sounded like an offer of a lifetime, So tantalizingly wonderful and irresistible.

Whatever, He thought. Maybe they weren't so strong after all, He shouldn't waste his time on weaklings.

Akaza started to walk away, Plagiarised confidence from his usual stance as his steps echoed throughout the courtyard. Passing by the centrepiece tree and heading towards one of the exits.

He pushed the doors open and quickly walked through. The dummy was basically useless now, It was old and ruined after years of torture from him. It didn't bring him the same skill that it use to.

The coldness of the shrine halls started to fade in and the warmth from the core of the courtyard faded out. The chill running down his spine and seeping into the fibre of his muscle as he walked.

He huffed. Passing by tapestries depicting dragons of old, Yokai and Kitsune all dancing within the threads. Disgusting, He figured that he shouldn't be here anymore. Maybe if he went out again he could find another Hashira to fight.

One that this time was str-

"Hey."

A voice called out from behind him.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. Despite the voice only being heard a couple of select times, It was one he recognised.

Akaza cocked his head round to the side, Golden irises and ink stained kanji glaring into the form of the girl. She was leaning up against the doorway he had just left, Only capable of going unnoticed due to her lack of fighting spirit.

"What do you want?" He answered back. His voice like the edge of a cutting blade and piercing into her like one too. Yet it drew no blood, Her expression was stone and it looked like it was enticed by him.

[F/N] pushed herself up from the rickety doorframe and stood in her stance. Arms folded over her chest and her legs planted onto the ground. She had a sort of sly smile playing on the corners of her mouth when she stared at him.

"I've came to speak to you. About the other day and a few more things." She replied casually as if discussing the weather, As if she wasn't in the midst of pandemonium. The place of all demons. Akaza blew air through his nose.

"There's nothing to speak about. You were injured, I only did it because you would've told Upper one about my presence here if I left you there." Akaza responded. Irritated as to why she was here.

"I mean, Maybe. But even so you didn't have to change my bandages, That was something you did on your own." [F/N] said, Taking a few steps towards him as if sizing him up. Akaza rolled his eyes.

"What are you trying to imply here?" He asked, Taking a few steps more in return to her. They were only a few feet apart now, Staring each other down like a western frontier stand-off.

"I'm implying nothing. I'm just saying what you did outright… And thanks, By the way.." [F/N] said, The last part of her sentence was mumbled but Akaza picked it up alright. He scoffed and tossed his head to the side.

"If you're just here to thank me then get lost. I'm busy and I don't have time to talk with the likes of you." Akaza scolded. Swiftly spinning around he began to march away, Quicker than a usual stride or stroll as he wanted to leave immediately.

Staying out of this is for the best. Akaza didn't want to get wrapped up in whatever kind of relationship she was involved in with Kokushibo, She meant bad news and she looked it too. He had better things to do, People to fight, Ways to get stronger.

"Wait, Wait, Wait!" Akaza heard her voice behind him, It seemed a little more desperate and surprised attempt to get him to stay compared to the cocky and tough exterior she sported. It was a crack in her porcelain, Something that made Akaza stop in his tracks.

"What? What do you want, I told you to get lost so beat it." Akaza responded more assertively, Eyebrows furrowing into a scowl as he turned back around to face her. Whose expression was that of a surprised kid.

"Seriously, I don-"

"You hate Kokushibo, Don't you?" [F/N] quickly butted in. Her agape jaw closed and curled up into a sly smile as she watched Akaza's broken glass eyes widen in shock. Bingo, She was correct. Her gut feeling was right.

"..Huh? How did you.." He mumbled half to himself.

"You hate Kokushibo, Right? I mean don't get me wrong, I do too." [F/N] confirmed, A soft chuckle lacing the end of her sentence. Her eyes glimmered under the aquamarine reflections, White sparkles that seemed to look right through Akaza.

[F/N] smiled. Her bet paid off. Before she wasn't quite sure, But she decided to take a risk and say it bluntly and lo and behold, Her bet paid off. For the past few days she had been thinking over her previous interaction with him, Every little moment, Picking up just the little details.

She was ticked off by the way he said his name, That's the catalyst. The way it dripped with venom and burned like a wildfire was something she could feel straight from the tap. Once she realised that she started to piece it together.

The next part that helped was the way he spoke about strength while being Upper three. He valued it more than anything and most of all he trained non-stop while he was here, He wanted to get stronger.

Not to mention the report at the Mugen Train incident. The conversation and description of him provided testament to that. Alone they meant nothing, But together they gave her a key to the lock. Akaza hated Kokushibo.

And that was something [F/N] was going to use to her full advantage.

"Yeah.. I do. He's a prick but so what if I hate the bastard?" Akaza spat out, Nose scrunching up at the mention of him. "What does it mean to you?"

[F/N] hummed a little, Pacing once or twice to the side while thinking over her words. Ones that she had been rehearsing in her head while searching for him, Making sure it was just right as she spoke.

"Well me and you. Let's be honest here, We are absolutely nothing alike for well.. Obvious reasons." [F/N] drawled, Nodding towards his general figure as she took a step towards him.

"But. We both here hate Kokushibo, That's what we have in common. I'm saying that we make a sort of.. Deal." [F/N] stumbled trying to find the right word to call what she was proposing. Akaza gawked at her, Whatever he had been expecting it was not that.

A disbelieving, Mean smile crept up on his face as he shook his head.

"No, Absolutely not. I don't know why you're here but if you were taken by Kokushibo then there must be a good reason for it, I'm not getting involved." Akaza said, Speaking his name with such acidity that she thought wisteria was in the air.

"I told you, I am not getting you out of here. Whatever relation you have to Kokushibo I want absolutely no part of and getting you out of here is off the table, Even being here with you right now is a risk. Besides.. What could you possibly offer me?" Akaza found it pitifully funny as he laughed through his frown.

[F/N]'s small smile dropped, A voice ringing in her head.

Do what you can to survive.

"What can I offer you? How about Kokushibo's head?"

Akaza stilled.

As soon as the words registered in his mind his body went rigid like a wooden board. His frown tightened and froze like water. What? What did she say? His eyes rose to meet hers, Unbelieving and shocked.

"What.. What do you mean?" Akaza asked slowly.

And just like that he had taken the bait. [F/N] felt slightly weighed down under his gaze, At any moment this could go wrong and her chance of escape would be lost. She needed to reel him in slowly, He suspected nothing.

[F/N] shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm his sister, He tells me everything you know. It just so happens that I also know his weakness and if you assist me then I'll gladly tell it to you. It's his Achilles heel, You find it out and he goes down." [F/N] trailed off, Holding back a gag once she referred to herself as his sister.

She was lying through her teeth. A practiced skill she had to learn quickly growing up, One that she never exceled at yet was good enough to get by. [F/N] never liked doing it, Especially when it meant calling herself his sister and the severe consequences that could happen if she was caught.

Akaza's lips parted, Eyes rising along with them as he heard her offer. It was unexpected, How could she have any idea what his so called 'Achilles heel' was? Could she be tricking him? Was this a lie? It was impossible to tell without a fighting spirit.

"How.. But.. You hate him, How could you know that?" Akaza rebutted. He seemed annoyed and unfocused before but now his attention was fully on her, Eyeing her up and down like a voracious hawk and ready to dig in with his claws.

[F/N] half-heartedly snorted.

"Well, Yeah. I hate him but that doesn't mean he hates me, Now does it? He may or may not let it slip during our conversations" She replied with a worn poker face, Staring him straight in the eye to meet the bird-of-prey gaze he returned with.

Akaza's eyes lowered.

"How do I know you're not lying to me.. What reason can you give?" Akaza queried. The question of the century. [F/N] had to calm her breathing like her training had always taught her to, She shallowly breathed in.

"I don't have any reason to give you, Only my word. But if you don't want to know then it's fine, Feel free to go back to the training dummy" [F/N] remarked, Shrugging her shoulders. Once it left her mouth she bit her tongue.

It felt nasty to lie, It was an old habit she had tried to get rid of but it reared its ugly head once more under the threat of eternal confinement. Whatever, She thought. It wasn't as if she could stoop any lower, Besides she needed it to survive.

Akaza scoffed. Half in disbelief and the other at the sheer audacity she had to offer this without any proof of reward to him. He would of insulted her, Told her off for doing such a ballsy move. But as he went to speak he couldn't find the words, None which he wanted to say anyways.

He turned around, A single palm hitting his forehead as he stared up towards the ceiling.

"Then why on earth would I agree to that?!" Akaza exasperated. [F/N] shrugged.

"Because you want to kill Kokushibo" She replied so casually that it caught him off guard. She said it with such disregard, It felt so wrong yet so enticing at the same time to Akaza.

It brought him back to their duel. Kokushibo knocking him down, The fight didn't even last five minutes. Akaza recalled how he had lain there while the executioner stalked up to him, Shadow casting over him as he stared down at his defeated form.

He stood like an emperor over him. Lectured him with a voice that silenced the entire room while his limbs could barely even regenerate. And to top it of he didn't even absorb him, Letting him rot another day.

Akaza hated him. He despised him, Every fibre of his muscles begged to destroy him. Every inch wanted to utterly annihilate him by any means necessary. He was so helpless like an injured animal yet wanted to fight back like a cornered beast.

He wanted to be the strongest, Any means necessary. Which is why his lip shook and his eyes lost focus, Contemplating the words proposed to him.

His mouth opened.

"Still.. Even if I do agree.. If I let you escape there'll be a target on my head, Possibly not even from just Kokushibo anymore.." Akaza replied and he was right. Kokushibo as loyal as he is would not hide away information from that man. If she was here then it was very possible that he was aware and let it happen for some unknown reason.

Letting her escape would be a death sentence.

"I'm not asking you to get me out of here, I'm just asking for your assistance. Just a bit of information and maybe you sneak me in a few items here and there, That's all I ask for and once I escape on my own I'll provide the information." [F/N] explained.

Akaza went silent once her proposition finished. He stood there now looking down at the floor, Arms limp at his sides. Slowly enough however, His fingers started to curl into a fist. Veins popping out from the sheer force as his knuckles cracked.

The only thing he could see was his face appear as a spectre in his mind. He knew what he had to do.

"..That's all?" It came out as a small whisper yet held so much weight that the air around them both shifted.

[F/N] nodded.

"That's all." She confirmed. Her right arm stretched out, It raised from its side and positioned itself in a uncompleted handshake. Her eyes narrowed as the fishing line seemed to tug, A bite she needed to reel in.

Akaza chuckled, A quiet and cruel sound as he shook his head.

"I can't believe I'm doing this.." He muttered. His hand reached out to meet hers, His cold dead fingers grasping onto hers in a now completed handshake. They shook once, Then twice. A firm hold from both sides.

The ceremony had been complete, The deal had been made.

"Ditto. If you told me I was here right now a few months ago.. I'd tell you you're insane." She joked-half heartedly. The warmth of her hand slipping from his icy grip as soon as the deal was finished. Akaza huffed.

"Listen. I don't want to be friends with you nor do I want to spend more time then I need to. I don't want to get personal. We're only here on transactional means, Got it?" Akaza said with his returning composure.

"Oh trust me. I'm not betting on anything happening between us." [F/N] replied. A sort of understanding growing between them, One not built on trust nor was it on respect of any kind. Instead it was mutual gain.

Or mutual for him anyways, [F/N] still had no idea how she was gonna explain it to him.

"So? Did you want any knowledge right now or did you just make some weird pact for future reference?" Akaza asked. But as soon as he did the small smirk on [F/N]'s face stiffened then softened into a frown, One that strangely enough fit perfectly on her.

"..This is a deal. Not a pact." [F/N] stated, Her voice was frosty and colder than their surroundings. Her body growing irrationally rigid at the simple word, Eyes lowering as her shoulders raised. Guard getting back up.

"What? It's just word choice" Akaza responded, Tilting his head to the side only slightly as he eyed her new behaviour up and down.

"Yeah, Well.. It's a deal so I'd rather just use the right terminology. This isn't a pact, Promise, Oath or vow of any kind.." [F/N] trailed off, Eyes wandering to some obscure part of the room. Akaza hummed.

"What do you have against the word 'pact'?" He asked, An off-handed and disinterested question on the surface yet a tinge of curiosity lingered on the implications.

[F/N] huffed.

"I thought you said this wasn't meant to be personal?" She rebutted.

Akaza paused.

"..Touché" He said after a while.

"Well anyways.. I don't need anything right now, However I'll search you out once I do. So.. Keep coming here to train or whatever else you do here, I'll be in touch." [F/N] spoke, Turning around with a flip of her kimono and starting to pace off down the old hallway.

Akaza watched as she went, Listening to the clacks of her sandals and the way she moved like the undead. He didn't need her to have a fighting spirit to tell she was unsure of her actions as she trodden away.

He grimaced, Something she didn't notice as she finally spun round the corner disappearing on sight. He should of been happy, Excited even. A possible way of defeating the person standing in his way to become the strongest.

His elation should of been sky high yet the implications and the dangers of what he got himself into weighed him down. If he got caught then what would happen? Kokushibo from what Akaza heard was attached to her, Assumedly more.. Obsessive than most relations.

Though that was somewhat normal for a demon, Akaza couldn't help but wonder why. He shook his head, If he got caught while doing this then a gut feeling told him he didn't think Kokushibo would spare him this time.

He didn't want to be involved, He really didn't. But now that he was dragged in by the ankles and enticed by the heart he knew that he needed to get serious, Akaza needed a game plan. A way to keep this on the downlow, A way to reap the benefits.

Akaza snorted at the thought. How he was going to do that was up to him and him alone now, All he needed to do was gather items and provide information. That was all.

Akaza groaned and turned around now, Back showing to her empty space as he marched off down the hallway. Contemplating his new situation.

☆♡☆

"To Mitsuri, My dearest friend."

The high-pitched voice of the woman was now dim and serious. The room was completely silent around her as she spoke, The lilt in her voice wasn't sad nor was it anything that fit such a despondent and heart-wrenching situation. It was uncanny as the rest looked out to her.

No one dared to interrupt her announcement of the note. Mitsuri held it out in front of her as she read, All of their faces sombre and dowry under the soft morning light. A stark contrast to the dark and dreary feeling of the room.

"This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much."

The first verse in the letter. At the end of it the entire room's doubts were stomped down into the ground like an insect. They had questioned the validity of his suicide, Wondered why someone like him.. Or, Her now could do something like this.

Sanemi's lips pressed tight together, Eyes fixed onto the tatami mat below him as his head was hung low. Ears perked up and listening to every little word Mitsuri spoke. Fujimori.. To think he was [F/N] this entire time.

He remembered his actions, The shoves or the way he spoke.. He tried not to remember as he listened on.

"First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over."

Nothing to feel bad over, A hope smoking up from a pipe dream. Mitsuri sat there so stoic and as stone faced as she could while the rest of the room was absolutely shocked to their core.

Iguro suddenly recalled back to the times he had insulted [F/N]. The times where he called him "A Sad Excuse of a Hashira" or other descripting words depicting him as lazy or cocky, One's he had said with such hate and ire as he spoke. Those memories bit into him like a viper and left him with a venomous guilt, Festering up like a poison as he remembered.

[F/N] always seemed to shake those words off at the time, Cocked his head and laughed but as they kept coming back to him Iguro wondered how many of his words stuck, How many left an impression.

He never had a good relationship with her. But Iguro wondered that if he hadn't said such things then maybe..

"Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die."

Gyomei's eyes lowered. His face didn't make any movements but the tears in his eyes flowed down like fountains, The beads he rattled on at were dead still. He recognised what she meant in the letter, She was referencing what he had asked her.

Out in the snow, Gyomei had asked her what her motivation was. He had been harsh and brass only seeing him as lacking in her duties. He saw it as his way of questioning her decision to retire, A way to try and motivate her.

But he heard the words on the paper. The melancholy truth radiating inside him, [F/N] did her job for so long because she wanted to die. To try and find someone that could finally kill her, Her only motivation or point of existence was to end it.

It was heart-breaking, He shouldn't of been so harsh. Whatever motivation she spoke about became nothing but flakes in the blizzard as he listened on.

"I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary."

Giyuu's lips curled into a deep frown, A bead of cold sweat rolling down the side of his forehead. The words on the note wasn't his but yet it resonated deep within him, He understood her words.

It was the hopeless feeling of impostor syndrome, One he had become so familiar with himself. It was the feeling of a large crowd cheering you on yet you did nothing to please them, A stolen joke told to their amusement.

He understood. The unworthy acclaim, The unjust attention. It was a sentiment he knew well so it only hit harder once she spoke again.

"The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do."

Mitsuri tried to hold her face as steady as possible. Her lip never quivered nor did her fingers shake while holding the paper. But even with knowing [F/N] was alive it felt hard to hold back the tears.

Her voice shook for only a second yet she settled it just as quick. She needed to get through the bad before she could speak the good. She decided to skip over a few parts however, Deciding that would be only for her to see.

Breathing in and out she continued.

"Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me."

Muichiro's gaze was as cloudy as ever, Yet the mist that swirled around resembled more of a thunderstorm than it did an overcast day. He was never one to listen or focus at all yet the way his crystal blue focused in on the older woman made it clear he was very well interested.

[F/N], He never paid any attention to her at all. He never sought her out and usually ignored him however there were times they interacted, A head pat or a ruffle of his hair. A compliment on his sword skills or just a simple nod in the hallways.

It made him frown, He wouldn't get those small interactions again. He never felt much of anything but a small singe rose up in his chest. It.. It didn't make him feel good.

"If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer."

Gyomei's eyelids rose, A sharp shock hitting him like a taser.

Shizuko, His Tsuguko.

It didn't make sense. His breath hitched in his lungs as he brought his head around to the focal point of the voice. Shizuko.. He was..?

"-[F/N] Fujimori"

Mitsuri stopped reading.

She took a deep breath in, The final stroke of ink had been spoken.

Mitsuri felt like she hadn't taken a breath in a long time as she lowered the piece of paper to gather the reactions from the room.

Everyone followed her head motion, All staring at her with unreadable expressions as everything that was read had been said. A melancholy and depressive fall, A sad and lonely final note. One that was unexpected entirely.

Shinobu looked over. The second time she had heard the letter's words as a small yet natural frown found its way on her face.

"Alright then.. That's [F/N]'s final note." Mitsuri said, Carefully folding up the paper of which rustles filled the silent void around her. She snaked it back into the pocket inside her haori, Settling her hands back onto her knee's.

"I.. I didn't know.. I.." Sanemi was the first to speak however his voice wasn't focused on anyone. It was a mindless mumble as his brain tried to process the information, Head shaking in disbelief as a small snarl curled up his lips.

"I can't believe it.. He seemed to be doing alright.. I.." Giyuu chimed in subconciously, Lips tightly pressed together as he scowled softly.

"Kanroji-san.. I'm so sorry." Iguro spoke, His mismatched eyes softening with the rush of guilt coming over him. He wasn't apologising to Mitsuri, He was apologising to [F/N]. His eyes shook and started to show bright specks under the daylight.

"I know, Iguro-san. But you don't need to apologise, Besides.. I'm not done with my news." Mitsuri comforted. Such a warm smile rising up on her face and shone like the sun looking at him.

The entire room raised an eyebrow or shaped a lip. Confusion manifesting onto their visage along with their sorrow.

Mitsuri turned back to the sombre room, Smile reappearing and adjusting back to normal as she spoke once more.

"Thankfully because of new information we've found out that while [F/N] meant to.. Die, The truth is that she didn't actually succeed.. The demon that was meant to kill her was infact Uppermoon one" Mitsuri said once more, Smile growing wider.

"[F/N] wasn't killed, Instead she was kidnapped by him. For what reason I have no idea why, I.. I'm still kinda figuring that part out so.." She finished trailing off as the words ran out.

Gyomei shook his head.

"So.. What your saying, Let me get this straight. Fujimori-san is [F/N].. She tried to kill herself.. Failed and then got kidnapped by Uppermoon one himself. Is that what your saying?" Gyomei asked.

"Basically.. yeah." Mitsuri answered with a nervous chuckle as she rubbed the back of her head.

"So.. What are you saying we should do..?" Muichiro inquired softly. Mitsuri bit her lip.

"Right now I'm in the middle of trying to find any leads. I'm.. I'm only having a little bit of trouble but for now I'm just asking for your awareness. If you find anything or if you have any idea of where she is or… Just if you know anything at all please come talk to me." Mitsuri asked.

Her voice grew pleading, A break in her peppy façade that she didn't even bother to conceal anymore. Mitsuri had went back to the shrine ruins, The oh-so familiar village she had grown up in.

The only thing she found was a massacred inn, While it was disturbing and revolting in of its own it didn't have any leads at all. There were no witnesses nor were there any survivors, So her only lead was dead in the water.

"Thank you very much for listening, I-"

Mitsuri was cut off by the sound of a sliding shoji door, Her jaw shut in place. Heads snapped around to the new arrival as they came face to face with Lady Amane and two of her children.

She bowed down, Her children followed suit.

"I apologise for my late arrival.. Master Kagaya will not be attending today's meeting due to his poor health, So I have decided to substitute for him instead.." Amane called out cordially, Raising from her bow to observe the sullen room.

"I am sorry.. But did anything happen while I was away?" Amane asked as she noticed the atmosphere and viewed the faces of the Hashira in front of her.

Gyomei bowed slightly.

"No, Lady Ubuyashiki.. We are fine, But I thank you for your concern.." He called out. Amane looked over, Curiosity bubbling up but decided not to question it. It seemed touchy by the way Gyomei's voice was pronounced more than normal.

"I see.. Well then I suppose its time we start the meeting then, Shall we?" Amane asked. Sitting down on her knees at the head of the room, Her children following in turn to sit beside her.

Mitsuri sighed under her breath as the meeting started. How would she be able to find [F/N]? Knowing demons she could be anywhere, She wasn't even sure if she was alive.

The thought made her want to vomit. No.. Mitsuri couldn't think about it now, She was alive and she needed to save her.. But..

She'd need a lead soon or it would be impossible to find her..

☆♡☆

Walking out of the shrine, Akaza took in a deep breath as he went. The weight of Akaza's footsteps made the dock below him depress with a creak, Almost as if it would break under him. However the rickety structure never gave in, Never shook nor did it sway. It just kept going, Unstable but standing.

The cool sea wind hit his face, His nose filled with the smell of salt and fresh lotus blooming from within the water below him. The rushing gusts of air came from somewhere deep within the black abyss surrounding him, Brushing past his skin with only a cold afterthought.

The sea below him rippled from his footsteps, The marine glowed a soft beryl with only lily pads and sea foliage to block it's light. It was an uncanny sight for the unadjusted, Which was someone Akaza was not as he walked along.

However he stopped. Paused in his tracks and frozen in place, But it wasn't from the cold air nor was it from fear. Instead it was a natural sense, Something he could near smell from a mile away.

Akaza turned around, Looking up towards the tall outside of the shrine.

"Come out, Whoever you are." He called out, Voice frostier than his surroundings as it echoed out into the abyss.

THUMP!

The sound of a body hitting the dock behind him reverberated, Akaza's eyes widened before he jerked his head around to meet the person standing there.

Only a metre away sat a boy in a crouched position, Akaza's lips turned into a snarl of that you'd see on a beast as he recognised the demon before him now.

From the black shaggy haircut and elven ears sticking out to the tigerish markings and slayer corps uniform. His sapphire obi and the hilt and flesh sword, All along with the snivelling little appearance he flaunted, Akaza knew who it was from the meeting.

"Hello, Akaza-dono!" Kaigaku called out. A snide little grin played at his grin and showed his small fangs pointing out, His eyebrows furrowed in a display of mockey. Akaza scoffed, This was a new attitude.

Respect the hierarchy, That's always what his master said. It was obvious he hadn't been listening to his superiors lessons and it made Akaza want to punch the arrogant smirk right off his face.

From what he had seen at the meeting he had always had his tail between his legs, Cowered at anyone superior. Was overall a boot-licker and suck up, It wasn't a respectable nature but it was far apart from the now cocky and egoistic tone he had in his voice.

"Upper six.. What the hell are you doing here?" Akaza spat out, Almost like a viper to a mongoose as he subtly puffed up his chest, Trying to look bigger.

"Bold of you to be asking that when you shouldn't be here at all!" Kaigaku rebutted with a trailing snicker. His weaselly smile growing as his gums were now bared to his superior, Yet he didn't treat him as such now.

Akaza shook his head and took another step forward, Continuing to walk away.

"Whatever.. If you want to keep your head I suggest you shut the hell up, I don't have any issue in severing it.." Akaza said as he walked by, His shoulder roughly brushing up against the younger boys as he went.

Kaigaku snickered as he went by him, Not shaking a single inch at his sentence.

"Take my head off? Not if you want my master to know what you've been up to." Kaigaku said, Head turning around with a predatory glint shining in the electric blue of his eyes.

Akaza froze in place.

"What..?" Akaza growled through gritted teeth. The sudden tension in his muscles creating veins across his body as he jerked his head over to meet Kaigaku's cat-like pupils.

"I've been here this entire time, I know about your conversation with that little human girl. I've known for weeks now and every interaction you've had with her." Kaigaku revealed. The glint in his eyes grew as he watched Akaza's jaw drop.

"You.. You've been here this entire time?!" Akaza yelled. His voice reverberating with his march as he turned back around to charge right over to Kaigaku.

In one swift movement Akaza had a hand around his throat, Kaigaku was extended into the air with his feet dangling a good foot off the ground. Akaza's teeth were bared like a rabid wolf as the grip on him tightened, Yet Kaigaku's grin never faltered a bit.

"Obviously.. My master had ordered me to stay when he wasn't around.. I've been watching your every move.. I don't know what you're doing with that girl but.. If you don't want me to tell number one himself right here.. Right now.. Then I suggest you back off.." Kaigaku choked out.

Akaza looked into his eyes, Searching for something. Some form of doubt or weakness bubbling up from within the pools of his irises. But he came up empty.

Akaza hissed and dropped Kaigaku to the ground in a single move.

The younger boy hit the ground with a thud and broke into a few short wheezes on the dock. Akaza looked down at him with a scrutinizing glare, Angry and alarmed.

Kaigaku knew. Akaza hadn't sensed him, He didn't know how. Was he too focused on his training or was he caught up with mystery of [F/N] to pick up on his spirit? How long had he been spying on him, Sneaking around from the rooftops and prowling about the dark corners to pick up information?

"Speak, How much does he know?" Akaza demanded, The shadow cast over Kaigaku meant nothing to the boy. Propping himself up with a single hand Kaigaku steadied himself on the floor.

"Nothing. But I don't know, How much are you willing to keep it that way?" Kaigaku asked, Mocking him with a cocking of his head to the side and a pout that made Akaza feel like a joke.

"What do you want?" Akaza asked through grinding teeth and a clenched fist, His nose scrunched up in disgust as he looked down at the boy.

Kaigaku used the hand he propped up to push himself up, On his knees he stood up to meet Akaza's eyes. He was only an inch away, Nose jabbing into his face.

"I want absolutely nothing.. I just like to see the look on your face when it's me looking down on you for once.." Kaigaku whispered. An small exhale that danced through the rushing winds around them and make Akaza want to scream.

"When have I ever looked down on you, I don't even care nor do I actually talk to you. But when I do I show you the respect when needed, So how the hell am I looking down on you?" Akaza hissed lowly as he peered into his eyes, Both locked in a staring contest together.

Kaigaku scoffed.

"Oh, Let me rephrase… I just like to see the look on you high and mighties when it's me looking down on you all for once. Just because you give me the 'basic respect' when 'needed' doesn't mean you actually mean it." Kaigaku started with a sneer.

"I know how it actually is.. Your type just loves to look down on the likes of me. People like you just don't know what it's like to get off your high horse and see the real world for once.. I just want to see my control over you, To make you feel how I feel.." Kaigaku whispered, Face only a few inches away from Akaza.

Akaza slowly shook his head to and fro. He was in complete disbelief at his audacity, His boldness to even attempt to pull a stunt like this. Akaza wanted to argue, He wanted to crush his skull between his palm and remind him of their differing strength levels.

But he couldn't. Akaza was well aware that him and Kokushibo shared a sort of telepathic link due to the way Kaigaku was initiated. Akaza knew that if Kaigaku so pleased he could tell Kokushibo what he had been up to right here and right now.

Akaza knew Kokushibo wouldn't be as merciful, Why he had such an interest and a complicated relationship with the girl he referred to as his sister. But he knew it wouldn't end well.

"If you feel that way then why do you still suck up to Upper one? Is it because you don't have sufficient blackmail or are you just afraid of getting killed?" Akaza jabbed. A passive aggressive taunt that leaned in on the latter as he took a step back.

Kaigaku shook his head.

"Don't you dare compare yourself to him. My master knows my worth, He sees potential in me and doesn't look down on me like the rest of you." Kaigaku replied. Akaza gawked at him.

"Then if you like him so much why aren't you telling him any of this? I don't see why you haven't.." Akaza questioned.

"Well I haven't told him yet, Doesn't mean I won't. I will eventually, I just want to enjoy it.." Kaigaku replied casually as he started to pace dramatically back and forth along the dock, Emphasising the moment and soaking it in.

Akaza 'tched. He kept up his strong exterior on the outside but inside he felt a cold chill run down him, A freezing panic that made questions rush through him. How was he going to deal with this?

First it was the deal with [F/N]. Second it was Kaigaku, The unknown countdown ticking away above his head loomed over him. Akaza didn't want to be involved, So how did he end up waist deep in this mess?

"You've always been such a weaselly boy, You know that right?" Akaza spat, Scowling at the boy in a well conceded defeat. Though, Akaza didn't quite expect the chill that rose up Kaigaku's spine at the words.

"..Really? Do you want me to tell him?" Kaigaku taunted to which Akaza instantly shut his mouth in response, Not wanting to urge him on.

Kaigaku grinned.

"That's what I thought! Not looking so mighty now are you?" Kaigaku taunted as he started to walk past Akaza, Back towards the shrine to where he came from. He had a swagger in his step as, A kick as he walked by that looked like he owned where he stood on.

"Hold on. I want to you to answer one thing before you go." Akaza ordered. A tone in his voice that made Kaigaku stop and leisurely toss his head to the side to meet his, An arrogant yet curious glint as he waited for his question.

"What the hell does Kokushibo even want with the girl? Does he seriously think a human woman is his sister?" Akaza inquired as if it was just a casual question but the curiosity below shined more than the spark in his eyes.

Kaigaku paused to contemplate then looked back at him.

"I don't know, I'm not allowed to speak to her or anything. Just said that she's his sister and to keep her tracked and reported on. Doesn't matter though, He must have a reason the likes of you just can't grasp." Kaigaku stabbed once more, Shrugging before turning back around and continuing to walk.

Akaza didn't question any more, Just watched as the boy leaped back up onto the roof of the shrine and start to scale up its towering walls, All the way to the top until he was only a small splotch in his vision.

Once he finally disappeared Akaza yelled, Raising his fist and punching a hole through an unlit lantern lining the dock.

It shattered as soon as it made contact with his fist, Bits of bark and splinter flew of and landed into the water below as he breathed in and out.

Akaza's breath was laboured as he watched the destroyed lantern's parts float away in the ever changing waves of the water, Teeth bared at it as he imagined Kaigaku in its place. That brat, How could he dare do something like that to his superior.

Akaza was never one for the Hierarchy, It's only use was a measure of strength. Only that and the recognition from his master. But Akaza couldn't deny it made his blood boil and burn at the sheer disrespect from the younger kid.

At least he could confirm that [F/N]'s 'sibling story' was the truth though, But the added threat of Kaigaku made the scales tip and the future ahead seem as murky as the void surrounding him.

He turned back around and marched off down the docks. He decided to go train to metaphorically sleep on it, Get his mind cleared and think this over carefully. It was tricky waters he was steering in and he needed to plan this out.

Akaza sighed, How the hell was he going to figure this out?

☆♡☆

The warmer afternoon sunlight flooded the outskirts of the Ubuyashiki estate's garden, Giving the abundance of plants and floral life just the right amount of nourishment to flourish as much as they were.

Birds sung from within their nests, It was a nice change from the screaming silence and the tense remarks spoke from within the house. As much as she loved her co-workers, Mitsuri was happy she had gotten out of there.

She pranced down the stone pathway, A skip in her step as she went.

The meeting had finally ended with the words of Lady Amane slipping away from her, Much more pressing thoughts prodding away at her.

The letter was tucked comfortably within her haori, Reading it out loud was more difficult than she had been expecting. Mitsuri thought she could deal with it, The weeks she had been mourning she had read it over and over non-stop. Committing it to memory.

Even so her breath shook the entire time, Even then she couldn't stop the inevitable turn in her stomach. It wasn't as bad as the first or the next few hundred that came after it though, That she was glad for.

Mitsuri knew once she finally found [F/N] and got her out of whatever hell she was suffering through that they would need to have a talk, Mitsuri knew that they'd need to figure it out and she was more than willing to do so.

Though how she would even get to her in the first place was a complete mystery. When she found the massacred inn and the bodies strewn about the place she had hoped that this would be the lead that set her on her trail.

But as dreaded it came up as a bust, Mitsuri had no more ideas or clues to set her down her path. A small frown appeared on her face, One that looked unfitting of a woman like her. Every second with [F/N] gone the chances increase of not finding her, And that ached hard.

Mitsuri was on the clock, She had no time to waste or spend doing what she loved. The hot springs, Late night feasts and cooking the food she loved so much. Mitsuri would need to set it aside for now.

Skipping along the trail the pep she had started to dim, But it was instantly brought back by with artificially made effort. Mitsuri held her head high with her smile widening more, She needed to look on the positive side, Stay optimistic and hopefully everything will be fine.

"Kanroji-san.."

A voice called out from behind her, A deep and sorrowful voice she recognised as she turned around to meet him.

"Himejima-san! Great to see you, I loved your input on the meeting today!" Mitsuri squealed. An over-the-top greeting she kept up along with her smile as she greeted the behemoth of a man standing only a metre away from her on the path.

"Thank you.. It is always nice to communicate with such enthusiasm.." Gyomei replied. Hands pressed together with tears streaming down his cheeks he nodded respectfully towards her general direction.

"Did you need anything? I was about to go back to the shrine ruins for another search around if you want to come with." Mitsuri offered, Tilting her head to the side as her signature blush formed on her cheeks.

Gyomei hummed.

"Unfortunately I cannot as I have been summoned on a mission.. However I have put that aside for now as I wish to have a word with you.." He said, Stepping forward only a single foot.

"Oh.. I'm guessing it's about the letter earlier then!" Mitsuri laughed nervously, Rubbing the back of her head with a sheepish smile plastered onto her face. "I'm sorry if it came off a little too harsh, I really need to know how to hold my tongue!"

"It's fine.. I believe you said it very well.. It shed a lot of light on unknown truths which if I am being honest baffle me to this very moment but.. I have came here about a few specific things actually.. Mostly about the contents of the letter.." Gyomei explained as he rattled his beads.

Mitsuri quirked her lips, Only for a second. She had a feeling this was going to happen, Maybe it was best if she hadn't said that last line, But there was no taking it back and she supposed Gyomei had a right to know.

"Alright then! Feel free to ask away, I don't mind." Mitsuri agreed.

"Thank you, Kanroji-san.." Gyomei nodded in appreciation. "First of all I would like to ask about the last part of the letter.. There was a certain line that involved one of my Tsuguko.. Shizuko Himejima.. I would like to inquire about that."

Mitsuri sighed, There it is. Even though she knew it was coming, Mitsuri had no proper idea on how to say it to him. But she tried anyway, He deserved to know.

"Right.. So, Yeah.. You heard right. [F/N] and Shizuko-san are both related, [F/N] is his older sister. I.. She wanted it to be kept a secret. Only me and her actually knew, Shizuko has no idea.." Mitsuri explained with a noticeable dip in her attitude, Frown becoming prominent again.

Gyomei's eyebrows knitted together. It didn't make sense. He had known Shizuko since he was a toddler, When he stumbled in his walk and babbled in-between sentences. The timeline was knotted and it puzzled him to no degree.

"I understand. If I may ask then why had it been kept from him as well as me, I have known the child since before I had became a slayer and I am a bit confused as to why he had been with me and not her.." Gyomei inquired.

Mitsuri inhaled, Humming a bit as she thought over her words.

"Well.. I don't want to say much, It's [F/N]'s story and I don't want to tell it for her but.. Shizuko means a lot to her. [F/N] made the choice to keep her and Shizuko apart and for her own reasons wanted to keep it that way." Mitsuri started.

"They didn't have the best living situation growing up, I don't know much about it because that was before I met her at all. I only know bits and pieces but what she told me is that she did it for his own good, What that means I don't know." Mitsuri finished.

Mitsuri sighed. She wished she knew more herself, Even though [F/N] and her had been friends for most of their lives she didn't know what happened before their friendship. Before [F/N] had a roof over her head and had her younger brother with her.

She never wanted to pressure her for more information though, It only came out in late night drinking sessions and off-handed comments. Mitsuri only had a half-finished puzzle of the events.

"I.. I see." Gyomei muttered under his breath. "I've known the boy since he came into my temple as an orphan.. I've raised him for years now. If I knew about the situation.." He trailed off, His voice turning into that of a whisper.

Gyomei remembered it well. The day the boy had been dropped off at the doorstep of the temple he resided in. Gyomei had taken him in and brought him up along with the other orphans he considered family, Remembered him being such a happy child.

It made sense now. Shizuko back then had always been a high-spirited child, Had always had something to say and had talked on about an older sister. Gyomei at the time had brushed it off, His younger self believing that she had abandoned him similar to some of the other kids.

However Gyomei had near-forgotten about it now. Probably because of what happened to him during the accident, Shizuko didn't speak much after that. His spirits lowering and the smile he wore cringing into a permanent frown, A shocked expression with a wide eyed scowl.

He never did speak about back then nowadays, Probably because he had forgotten entirely. It was a shame, Yet now that Gyomei remembered everything suddenly became much more clear yet so murky at the same time.

Mitsuri shook her head.

"Please.. Himejima-san. I'm begging you to not tell him, At least not until the time is right." Mitsuri pleaded, Her tone dripping with a sincerity and only the purest of intentions as she spoke to him. Gyomei paused, Pondering over her words and considering them with great care.

"Alright then.. But keeping lies is against my morals and good conscious, If he does ask about anything pertaining to this then I will not lie to him.. And I do hope you tell him in due time, Kanroji-san" Gyomei agreed, Nodding once.

Mitsuri sighed in relief. Her body relaxing with her shoulders as the smile reappeared on her face, A tiny relaxed grin.

"Thank you, Himejima-san! You don't know how much this means to me, To [F/N] too.." Mitsuri said full of gratitude as she thanked him. It went better than she thought and Gyomei would keep his mouth shut for the most part, That was good for her.

Gyomei nodded

"And yes.. To [F/N]. While I am unable to help out the majority of the time I am deeply remorseful for the way I have spoken to her.. Not just me but the rest of the Hashira too. In my spare time I will try to find leads of my own.. And if you at all come across anything then I ask that you inform me first to help, It is the least I can do.." Gyomei said.

His voice was full of apology, More so than usual. It was a deep reverberating sort of regret that was rare to find and it just made it all the more impactful to Mitsuri as she nodded, Trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

"Thank you so much.. I.. If I find anything at all I'll let you know, It means a lot for you to say that and I hope that the rest of our friends truly do feel that way too." Mitsuri bowed in a deep respect, Low and cordial before him as she grinned ear to ear in a melancholy joy.

"It is of no issue.. I continue to pray for [F/N]'s good health and for your success in finding her. Good luck, Kanroji-san.." Gyomei bowed back, His senses telling him to do so as he lifted back up and turned away.

"Goodbye, Himejima-san!" Mitsuri called out to him as he walked off along the stone pathway.

And once he left entirely she was left alone to the sunlight shower in the garden, Alone with the insects and birds and the rustling of leaves. The warmth sinking into her skin and the soft breeze flowing through the watermelon drizzle in her hair.

It was almost enough to dry her tears, Though for once in weeks they weren't of sadness but instead of a ruminating joy. Her heart sung in happiness and her eyes filled with such a blossoming light that it could rival the sun itself.

There was hope, There was a unity and harmony between her and the rest of her colleagues. Both Shinobu and now Gyomei were both on her side, The rest were now aware of what happened.

It was difficult to say but she got over it. Throughout the heavy rainstorm it was hard to see but once the clouds cleared was nice at the end of the rainbow, There was hope and something she could hold onto like her mothers hand.

Turning around she began her skip down the rocky pathway once more. Mitsuri hummed a happy tune as she went and her blush bloomed brighter than the orchids and petunias that blossomed within the shrubbery.

Mitsuri made sure to hold on tight, To never let go and keep it close to her. She'd find [F/N], She knew she would.

It was only a matter of time until a lead would rear it's head.

It was only a matter of time until Mitsuri reunited with [F/N] once again.

Next Chapter

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