#but I mean he cannot stop being L can he?

[aesthetic-bbyg]

HI I LOVE UR WORKS could I pls request like a mean dom ex bf Luke Castellan x fem reader who just canNOT get over him 🙏 it’s ok tho cuz we can get under him instead 😍 (smutty ofcccc)

DON’T STOP ~ L. CASTELLAN

lowk based of this p link

ex!Luke Castellan x fem!reader

🎀🤍 - It’s been awkward around camp since you and Luke broke up, even worse since you miss him so much..

Oral!fem receiving , Luke being a meanie , teasing , rough&dom!Luke , squirting , sum fluff at the end

EVEN THOUGH HE WAS YOUR EX, AND HE broke things of with you, you couldn’t help but stare at every chance you got. When he was practicing sword fighting with another camper, or when your gazes met at the picnic benches during breakfast.

And Luke hated this. It made his blood boil, those sweet looks you sent him. The innocent doe look as your round eyes widened each time he finally gave in and stared back. The few seconds he actually managed to make eye contact with you he saw that desire that he was all too familiar with swirl in your irises. Then again, it made him chuckle each time you turned away from his strong gaze, shyness overtaking you.

Yet, it made him cocky, knowing he still had that power over you despite breaking things off. It made him want to get closer and see just how much you blushed at his presence. He wanted to feel the way your body stiffened when he touched you, before eventually melting with each gentle caress. It was sick, how much pleasure it brought him to think about messing with you. But, he also couldn’t deny that he had his own desires that needed to be fulfilled. So it wasn’t all that twisted because part of that want for you was because of his own lust and not just his ego.

Even now, as Luke stares at you from across the field, his helmet adorning blue whilst yours red, he could sense that same desire seep from your body. He wanted to soothe that ache he knew pooled under those leggings you were wearing. He took the opportunity as he snuck through the trees like an animal, and saw you, guarding a red flag stuck into the dirt.

If you could even call it guarding. Your back was turned to him, picking at the flowers by your feet, you sat atop of a tree stump nearly dying of boredom. Your helmet and sword had been discarded and rest on the grass next to you. You gasped, feelings sharp tip dig into your back.

“You never learn.” A familiar voice that sent chills down your spine echoed into your ears. “How many times did I tell you, never get distracted.”

“Many times.” You replied, voice weak and small. You slowly turned your head, peeking at him over your shoulder. Your eyes holding that same doe eye look as you stared up at him innocently. He removed the faux sword from your back, squatting down to reach your height. “Luke.”

He took your chin between his fingers and thumb, staring intensely into your eyes. “You’re a stupid girl, y/n.” He leaned his so close that his lips nearly brushed over yours, “But so irresistible.”

You gulped down thickly, “Lu..”

“You’re not gonna be eating dinner tonight, you’re going to stay in your cabin.” Luke demanded, not even asking you, but stating it like it was a fact of the future.

“But—“ You stumbled over your words pathetically, breathing heavily against his pink lips that were so close and yet so far. “Luke.”

“It’s an order.” He stood up, tone cold and harsh as he ripped the flag from the ground and began walking away.

“Hey!” It was the loudest your feeble voice had been the whole interaction, your hands reaching for the sword by your side as he paused. “The whole point of the this game is to not let the opposing team win the flag.”

Luke let out a mocking laugh, turning around to look at your like you were dumb. “What, and you’re gonna fight me for it?”

You knew you didn’t stand a chance against the greatest swordsman of all of Camp Half-Blood, and yet you still allowed the words to slip your mouth. “Yes.”

He shook his head, tossing the flag aside. “Fine.” He readied his sword, pointing at you threateningly, “Have it your way.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, mimicking his actions and sucking in a deep breath. You truly couldn’t go against Luke even if you put all your might into it. You were a fool for even instigating a dual, and that same proclamation ended in you on your stomach, cheek digging into the grass with your sword knocked across the field. Luke held both your wrist behind your back, knees on either side of your hips as his hard on pressed against your backside.

“You’re a stupid girl.” He repeated his mean words from earlier, this time so close to your ear that his breath tickled the side of your face. His grip on your was getting painful, but it felt numb as he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your temple. “You’ll learn one day.”

He stood up, releasing you from his grip as he walked away, picking the flag up and disappearing into the trees. You’re team was going to give you so much shit for this.

THIS IS STUPID, Luke Castellan was your ex. What type of control does he have that you had to listen to him? You’d been pacing around the empty cabin during dinner time for five minutes.

“Aren’t you gonna eat, sister?” One of your siblings asked before leaving, watching you with curiosity as you laid under the covers.

“Not tonight, I feel a little sick.” You lied, even mustering up a fake whine as you gripped your stomach. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.” And within a few moments, she was gone, and you waited and waited, which left you to pacing. “Fuck this.” You stomped towards the door, deciding that you shouldn’t listen to him, because who was he? Ordering you to do what he wanted.

“Where are you going?” Luke asked smugly as his gaze met yours when you opened the door. “I told you to stay here.”

You stepped back slowly, “I was going to eat.” Your voice had become stronger, but that didn’t mean that your mind felt anymore confident when confronting the son of Hermes.

He shut the door, following each step you took backwards by stepping forward, his smirk very clear, even in the dark atmosphere. “But I told you not go, to wait for me here.”

“Well, I’m not gonna listen to everything you say, Luke.” You stopped, feeling your legs collided again the side of one of the bunk beds. It was yours, and you could tell by the curtains you had Luke nail onto the top for extra privacy. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”

He let out another chuckle, something about your words had entertained him so much that he’d revealed his pearly canines. But in a split second it dropped, he hurled at you, pushing you against the bed and pining your arms above your head. You’d be lying if you said that this didn’t soak your panties almost immediately.

“I tell you do things, baby, ‘cause you don’t know how to do them yourself.” Luke whispered into your neck, planting sweet kisses along it’s curve and your shoulder. Then he began sucking, leaving bruises behind and then soothing them by licking gently against the purple skin. “Did I really fuck you so dumb that you just can’t comprehend when someone tells what to do.”

You sigh at his touch, “Stop calling me stupid, Luke.”

He huffed out a laugh, trailing further down your chest kissing at the tops of your tits that spilled out the white tank top you had on. “It’s what you are, I mean, you can hardly form a sentence when I just so much as look at you.”

You whine, “I can speak for myself.” You said in a whisper, tugging at the grip he had on your wrist.

He lifted his head from it’s spot in the valley of your tits. “Then tell me,” He took one hand, still restraining you with the other, “what do you want.” You went silent, brain going foggy as he inched a warm hand under your tank top, under your bra. “I said, what do you want me to do, stupid girl.”

You whined, “Fuck, I want you to eat me out.” Your tone was meant to come out a lot more stronger then it actually did, it nearly sounded like you were pleading.

“Aww, look at my girl, finally learning a new thing.” He cooed, letting go of your wrist and lifting his head from your chest. He caressed your face, eyes lowering down to your lips and inching closer just like how he did in the forest earlier. “I really meant it when I said your irresistible, baby.” He whispered, kissing your cheek, purposely avoiding your lips. “I‘ve missed your taste.”

“Then why have you been a dickhead and ignoring me since we broke up.” You muttered, bringing your now free hands to wonder up and down his toned arms. “You could’ve had me if you wanted me.”

He chuckled, “Trust me, I’ve been doing anything but ignoring.” He squeezed your hip, finally dipping his head to kiss you desperately. It was a messy and hot kiss, full of desire, clashing teeth, and tongue. Your hands had lifted to cup his face, eyes pressed shut as you took in this long awaited make out. Nothing could describe the lust that emitted from the kiss alone, how heavy the both of you inhaled through your nose, refusing to part your mouths and breath.

But it eventually had to come, Luke grew impatient and hungry as he was the first to pull away, dragging your hips to the edge of the bed roughly. He fell to his knees in a heartbeat, pulling off your shorts in one swift move and shoving your panties the side. He then folded your legs just enough so your whole cunt was exposed and openly glistening in the little bit of light that illuminated the cabin.

He nearly came just at the sight of it, leaning down to begin his feverish licking and sucking on your folds. You let out a surprised moan, not expecting him to dive into your pussy like a starved man. Your hand flew to his dark curls, the other gripping the pretty pink sheets you already knew were going to be ruined by the time he was finished.

After all, dinner time was a whole hour and thirty, giving him plenty of time to enjoy his meal without stop. Luke flicked his tongue in and out your hole teasingly before moving to suck on your clit loudly. The noises were disgusting, a sloppy combination of slurping and high pitched moans. He lightly shook his head against you, digging his features into you, his grip on your thighs tightening each time you attempted to push them down.

“Fuck, Luke, don’t stop, don’t stop!” You moaned, legs trembling at the way he worked his tongue against you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You nearly screamed, your grip on his curls painful but he didn’t even mind it. He didn’t even flinch as you began to leak milky cum from your cunt, he just continued to lick at your sensitive bud. You did everything in your power to try and get him away, pushing at his shoulders, gripping his arms, shoving away his face, letting out choked whines of surrender. “I can’t—“ Each feeble attempt in getting your point across was interrupted by your own moans and squeaks as he brushed over your overstimulated clit.

You’re pussy was probably a mess of spit, cum, and arousal mixing together, yet something about that was so addictive to Luke. It wasn’t like he didn’t hear your pleas, or that he was ignoring them, he truly couldn’t pull away. He was letting animalistic groans each times he swiped his tongue onto your pussy, letting the wetness fill his taste buds.

He couldn’t help it when he just pushed your legs closer to your chest whenever you squirmed and attempted to push the closed. He heard you whines and it only fed his own pleasure, his licks became quicker, more messy if that was even possible. He was out of breath and heaving, yet didn’t pull back for a second, he just kept stuffing his face back into your cunt. He noted the way you nearly screamed whenever he fucked his tongue into and rolled with it, repeating the motion as his nose stimulated your clit.

With that you were letting out the most pornographic moans he’d ever heard come from you. Your attempts to shove him away for noticeably more frantic and aggressive, you’re whines, despite being almost unintelligible, begged for him to stop. There was a overwhelmingly tight coil in your stomach that just felt different compared to your last orgasm, it went from your stomach and moved down in waves. Before you could let another push to his shoulder you threw your head back and gripped the sheets desperately. You heard a gentle squelch, very faint but it made your eyes widen in horror as you sat up at stared down at Luke.

He finally pulled away, wiping away at the wetness that dropped down his chin and onto his neck. He fell back on his knees, a drowsy smirk on his lips and heavy eyelids that stared back at you. You squirted, and all over his face at that. “Fuck.” Was all he could mutter, biting his lower lip as he stared at you. “That was..so fuckin’ hot, baby.”

You blushed, hiding your face in your hands as you groaned. “I made a mess.”

He leaned up, removing your hands and lightly pecking your lips. “A beautiful mess, baby.” He whispered, “I bet I can make it happen again.”

“No!” You squeezed your legs shut, shoving his shoulder as he laughed, gently caressing your thigh. “Dinner is almost over and you need to leave before anyone notices you were here in the first place.”

“I don’t care if they see me, they probably already heard you.” He stood up, making you notice the painful bulge that outline the cargo shorts he had on.

“Oh, fuck, Luke.” You whispered. He didn’t have to ask what you were referring to with your pitiful tone as you stared at his hardened dick without shame.

“Don’t worry about.” He reassured, digging into his pocket to pull out a picture. “I’ve got you to help me out later in the night.” With closer examination, you noticed that it was an old photo that he’d taken months before the breakup. You laid down on a bed, shirt lifted just enough to show your tits, legs spread open with a cock shoved in your cunt.

“You’re dirty.” You slapped his leg, but a sheepish smile betrayed any ounce of annoyance you were trying to display. You leaned down to grab your shorts, but before you put them back on you paused. You looked up at Luke, who wasn’t paying attention as he slipped the photo back into his side pocket, and then at your lap. You stood up and slipped out of your panties, balling them up and offering it to Luke like a present. “You can have ‘em, they’re ruined because of you anyway and it could be useful for helping you later.”

Luke let out a chuckle, not even blinking as he took them and shoved them into his pocket. “Thank you.” He took your waist, his hand trailing down to the plush cheeks of your ass and squeezing the flesh. He leaned into close of the night with a another hungry kiss, except he replaced the painful lust with love and devotion. He regretted ever letting you escape his arms, and knew that he wouldn’t do it again, no matter what. He kneeled down, picking up the shorts he’d discarded and lightly kiss your thigh, you stepped into them, watching with admiration as he dragged them back up.

“I love you.” You weren’t sure if maybe it was too soon to confidently say the words once more but part of you didn’t care.

Luke didn’t know either, but he definitely knew in his whole heart that he didn’t give a fuck. “I love you too.” You walked to the cabin door, feeling a pool of dread as he opened it and slowly let go of your hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You nodded, giving him a smile before he was gone, the door shutting completely with a quiet click.

“Hey, Luke, where were ya?” You heard a fellow camper call out just moments after Luke’s exit. “Didn’t get some dinner before bed?”

“Nah, man, don’t worry.” Luke shrugged it off, he voice getting more faint the farther he went, but you definitely heard him say: “I already ate.”

Natti speaks !!: I actually ended up liking this way more than I thought so a big thank u to the person who sent this request in🫶🏼🫶🏼 Luke Castellan is js to fine and he needs to be stopped.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

#luke castellan blurb #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #Natti’s works 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 #percy jackson and the olympians show #charlie bushnell #Charlie bushnell x reader

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner - although today it is less unhinged and more of a watertight analysis.

What I am about to present you is something most people have probably already noticed, but it has been three months and I still lose my mind while going through the final fifteen frame by frame (which is a normal thing normal people like us do, right? right).

You literally cannot convince me my following meta is wrong, and the only person whose criticism I will accept on this post is Michael Sheen and Michael Sheen ONLY. If you're not Michael Sheen (hi Michael Sheen who probably has a secret tumblr account) then your guess is as good as mine, though again, I think mine is solid.

So.

We all love and hate Aziraphale's "I forgive you", but what I find even more painful is the fact that before that he almost said "I love you". Then he stops himself and changes it, and the amount of micro-expressions on his face as he makes that decision is my current cause of death.

Here's the clip as evidence #1, and while it can definitely support itself, let's dive into the pain a little more, shall we?

One important thing I noticed is that Aziraphale doesn't look at Crowley while he stutters his way through his initial reaction. He blinks up at him for a few frames before averting his eyes again and only holds eye contact after the almost-confession (from here on referred to as IL-).

This is Aziraphale holding eye contact with Crowley (left) vs. him looking away (right):

The frame on the left is from the I forgive you (IFY) part of the scene, the other one from right before IL-. If we go through the above clip little by little we will find that he avoids Crowley's face the entire time and his gaze slips further and further down, which I interpret as him overthinking/trying to come up with something to respond to this entire situation.

He is overwhelmed and surprised, caught between his two main desires: Crowley and being a Good Angel.

Combing through the frames, we can actually nail down exactly when Aziraphale first makes eye contact before the IL- and when he stops. Keep the above comparison in mind! The angle is slightly different because his chin is lower and he straightens up throughout the scene.

So! This is where he starts looking at Crowley:

And this is where he stops:

Hard to see? Let's zoom in on his eyes (numbers are the file names):

Now, you might ask me "Alex, this is all fine, although a bit insane, but why is any of this important?"

Because, fellow tumblr user and good omens enthusiast, I think that looking at Crowley is what changes his mind about what to say.

He doesn't look at him -> about to confess his feelings.

He looks at him -> says the absolutely worst possible thing.

Partly to hurt him because they're both lashing out at each other during this argument, but he looks at Crowley, looks at the person that just kissed him, that told him they could have been an us, that wants him and has always wanted him, screw everyone else.

He looks at Crowley and he wants to say l love you but then what? Once he says those words, he can't leave. He just can't.

We have to remember that they have existed within a complicated dance, a game that they have been playing for centuries without ever telling each other what that game actually is, what the rules are - because they couldn't. It was based entirely on trust and knowing the other person well enough to play it safe.

Crowley just flipped the playing board. Nothing is the way it should be, he is refusing to do their dance, refusing to play. He is looking at him and daring him to stop trying to put the pieces back on the board. The only thing neither of them has done yet is actually say I love you out loud.

Saying those words would mean stepping away from the playing board and acknowledging the room they have been playing in. It would mean saying fuck you to heaven, yes, but it would also force Aziraphale to finally define himself outside of the role he has been playing for both Crowley and heaven, and he isn't ready for that yet.

Additionally, there is the fear and/or knowledge (depending on what else the Metatron might have said or done that we did not see) that heaven will retaliate against him and Crowley if he disobeys them now, and he does not want to risk that either.

All that is what, in my opinion, happens in his head when he averts his eyes and interrupts himself. I do kinda what to make a whole different post about his facial expressions leading up to the IFY, so I will end this one with one more bit of pain.

Ready?

Firstly, the face he makes when he makes his decision.

Look at the tight line of his lips, the pain etched into his face, the pure pain in his eyes.

This is the face of someone who knows exactly how badly he is going to hurt Crowley and himself. This is an apology, an I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, this hurts me as much as it hurts you. I'm sorry but I have to.

And then he winces afterwards. I don't know about you, but this is exactly the kind of face I make when I'm emotionally torturing myself with my own thoughts. For the final blow, please look at the picture very, very closely, especially the last frame, because Aziraphale isn't just sorry and he isn't just in pain.

Aziraphale is scared because he knows* that he might lose Crowley over this. He knows that saying I forgive you is (almost) unforgivable. He KNOWS.

He does it anyway because he will lose Crowley either way but he'd rather have him alive and hating him than dead.

With that I am concluding today's unhinged meta corner, thank you for your attention and you're welcome for the pain.

Also: If you want to call me a 'tin hatter' or insane or otherwise make fun of me - this is very much a girl, what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament moment because you read my meta post all the way to the end. <3

-

*authors note: what Aziraphale thinks he knows and what is actually real is not the same thing but that's a different post

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #good omens 2 meta #no nightingales

[mysillyside]

Domestic Lawlight is so funny to me these two would be the most annoying insufferable argumentative difficult couple ever.

Here's how I imagine a "Light asks L to help with basic chores" conversation going (they've been married for years):

Light: Hey L, take out the trash today.

L: I don't want to.

Light: Ok? I fail to see how that's relevant. I didn't want to spend my entire morning cleaning your smelly roach infested room, but I did anyway. Would it kill you to at least not throw your candy wrappers on the floor? You have a bin you know. Two bins.

L: I was planning to pick up the wrappers later today but you beat me to it.

Light: You always say that and then never end up doing it.

L: Just because Light-kun is too impatient to wait, doesn't mean I'm lying. You can't prove I wouldn't have picked up the wrappers had you waited, so this is a baseless accusation.

Light: So I'm the problem. For cleaning your mess.

L: I like how my room looks. Perhaps Light-kun should stop being judgemental of people with different lifestyles.

Light: Do I need to keep stressing that your room had a roach infestation problem.

L: The roaches are my friends.

Light: You are being unbelievably difficult. Is it that hard to take out the trash?

L: I don't want to.

Light: "I DoNT wAnT TO". Why do we have to have this conversation every time I ask you to help me with chores.

L: If Light doesn't like doing the chores I will just get Watari to do them.

Light: L. Watari will not be able to do your chores forever.

L: 20%.

Light: ??? I cannot believe you. I can't believe you are insinuating I would kill my father-in-law because I'm reasonably angry with you for throwing a tantrum every time I ask you to help with basic chores. Will my Kira-relapse percentage rise if I demand you do the dishes today too?

L: 30%.

Light: You are insufferable. Like actually insufferable. You know Watari's gonna die one day, right? He's already really old. I won't be here forever either. Who's gonna take care of you when that happens? Might as well start learning to be an adult now at 30. Better late than never.

L: I wouldn't worry. Light-kun is younger than me and I'm the one in actual threat of dying while doing my detective work. Besides, I'm married to Kira-kun. It's a miracle I haven't ended up dead yet. In any case, Light-kun will most certainly outlive me.

Light: ...I'll make you regret this, L.

Light: *angrily storms off with the garbage bag fuming with rage, already starting to craft a detailed extremely elaborate step-by-step plan to fake his own death so he can teach L a lesson about the importance of doing his goddamn household chores*

#if you don't force your blorbos act like an old married straight couple who hate each other but refuse to get divorced do you even love them #light is correct here btw. you know its fucked up when light “murdering is my coping mechanism” yagami somehow has the moral high ground #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #lawlight #💬 katposts #🤪 sillygoofy #✒️ katwrites

[cartierre]

AMOUR ROSE | cl16

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU charles leclerc x fem!reader (fc: pasabist on ig)

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 293,094 others

yourusername filling up my vitamin d tank in portugal ❦

view all 1,450 comments

user1 someone explain to me how this girl is dating charles ⤷ user2 she's way out of his league

charles_leclerc mon bijou (my jewel), no one compares to your beauty! ⤷ yourusername charles stop i'm already turning red

charles_leclerc i cannot believe how blessed i've been with you in my life, i'm going crazy over you ⤷ yourusername you're so overdramatic...

user3 y/n being absolutely flustered because of charles' comments is so real of her ⤷ user4 even i'm blushing because of his compliments ⤷ user5 idk if i should be jealous because she's dating charles or because he keeps being the sweetest boyfriend

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 301,392 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername bye bye vacation ☀️

view all 1,932 comments

user6 i want what they have ⤷ user7 every night i manifest this exact life

charles_leclerc mon soleil (my sun), your smile brightens up my day ⤷ yourusername careful or you'll get a sunburn ⤷ charles_leclerc i'd gratefully accept every sunburn if it means seeing your smile every day

user8 i hate charles for raising the bar so high with every comment he leaves under her posts ⤷ user9 god has his favourites and she's one of them fr

♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 193,304 others

tagged: yourusername

voguesingapore Let the elegance of #Y/N enchant us all. A rising star on various social media platforms, Y/N Y/L/N has enjoyed a big following, especially on Instagram. She's currently dating Formula One driver Charles Leclerc and opens up about the life as an F1 WAG and her life in the spotlight in our September Issue 2022.

view all 587 comments

yourusername it feels like a dream come true! i'm still speechless this is really happening... ⤷ charles_leclerc you deserve for all your dreams to come true mon amour (my love)

user10 so we're celebrating people who have achieved nothing on their own now? ⤷ user11 she had a pretty big following even before she started dating charles ⤷ user12 yeah but like.... why? just because she's pretty? ⤷ user13 that's literally how most people became influencers on social media

user14 she's so otherwordly pretty

user15 she looks so ethereal. elegance perfectly describes her

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 293,495 others

tagged: yourbestfriend

yourusername charles loves to spoil me on my birthday even if he cannot be here right now

view all 1,416 comments

user16 i need to call my therapist because i cannot anymore ⤷ user17 charles spoiling y/n and her friends because of her birthday really confirms the "if he wanted to he would" saying

charles_leclerc the pink hair is going to be the death of me mon coeur (my heart) ⤷ yourusername my face is as pink as my hair right now

user18 wow and my boyfriend couldn't even text me a "happy birthday" on my birthday morning... ⤷ user19 not everyone can be as sweet as charles leclerc

user20 she's so spoiled oml

user21 you're telling me she rather celebrates her birthday with her friends than support charles in zandvoort? ⤷ user22 some people love to hate on every little thing...

♡ liked by yourusername, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 402,187 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc mon ange rose me rend fou... bon anniversaire ma chère (my pink angel is driving me insane... happy birthday my dear)

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user23 oh he whipped whipped

user24 charles being absolutely head over heels for y/n is what i aspire in my future relationship

yourusername you're too adorable charles, je t'aime (i love you) ⤷ charles_leclerc je t'aime davantage (i love you more) ⤷ yourusername impossible! ⤷ charles_leclerc yes possible!

user25 i need to take a break from charles' and y/n's profiles because their comments keep destoying me

user26 they made me believe in love again ⤷ user27 if they ever break up, i'll be a two times child of divorce

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles lecerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 1 : Glorious Past

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader (future)

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally grey! Reader

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

<Prelude Next>

Mercedes Amg Petronas F1 team: Race Engineer, a title that you will forever embellish in your CV proudly. How many can say that their name will forever be attached to the glory and dominance of silver, black, and blue? The name Y/N L/N will forever be remembered in and out of the paddock as the voice that led a Mercedes driver to his heroic reign of victory.

But the journey to the top was not rainbows and sunshine, No. Moral compasses and integrities were bent more than once. No one understood how much you’ve bled to reach the top. Each cut deeper than the rest. Not one person knew except for one, He understood because he bled much worse. Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was your life. In and off track , you cannot deny it and you prefer it that way. You were attracted to him, how can you not? His passion for greatness, his drive toward power, and the way he always gets what he wants.

However, no matter how much you wanted Lewis. You were bound to Mercedes’ regulations — with the no driver relationships clause in Red Bold Capital Letters, staring back at you. That and that he was already in a long-term relationship. And with that, you buried your feelings where no one would know. At least that was the plan.

But Lewis being Lewis, never made it easy for anyone and you were on the top of his list. It was all innocent at first but it quickly evolved as your time together lengthened.

Complicated was shy of describing what your relationship with the English driver was. It started with light teasing on onboard radio calls for all of the worlds to hear ,lingering touches in the garage when toto was not looking and the incredulously expensive gifts given without reason — tagged and penned in Lewis’ penmanship that wrote “ for MY race engineer for being a good girl and doing a good job”

But all hell broke loose on the night Lewis won his first Championship with Mercedes.

The chequered flag was waved and Lewis had been the first to cross the line and deafening cheers erupted all over the Mercedes Garage. The smile on you was gigantic and a breath of relief left your lungs, while your co-engineers shook your shoulders back and forth as they shouted at each other.

“Lewis Hamilton, You are the World Champion!!” You exclaimed in your mic to congratulate your driver.

Lewis’ melodic laugh filled your ears and the next words you heard stopped your earth from spinning

“Y/N L/N, I fucking love you! I can't…” Lewis was not done talking, but you cannot process anything else. He said he loved you. Did he mean it? Or was it just a figure of speech?

Lewis didn’t mean it that way, right? You were mistaken. Yeah… you were. I mean, he was in a relationship, he had Nicole.

Clearing your throat, acting as if nothing happened. You once again radioed

“Congrats, Champ! Get in there” And with that, you removed your headphones and started to proceed toward the nearest restroom to compose yourself. But the world had other plans.

Still dazed you were almost near the exit when the voice of your boss stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N? Where are you going? You need to be at the podium and get the constructor’s cup” Toto said as he went near you. Not allowing you to oppose as he gently held your shoulders and maneuvered you toward the podium.

And just like that you were led towards where Lewis, Felipe and Valterri were behind the podium as they waited to be called out. As you neared, your eye naturally drifted towards Lewis and a smile uncontrollably spread on your face.

Not until Lewis charged towards you lifting you off your feet and twirling you around. Your initial shock turned to giggles as you patted Lewis’s shoulders signaling him to stop and to put you down.

He heads your plea and finally puts you down but not long after pulling you in a tight hug that brought butterflies to your stomach. His hand placement was a little too much for friends and way too much for colleagues. Lewis pulls back a little and gazes at your face with a soft smile.

“My little engineer, I’m so glad you’re mine” He muttered as He once again hugged you, placing his head on the crook of your neck. Another wave of confusion and questions filled your head. You were about to question Lewis on what he meant by that, but you were cut by the announcer calling Lewis towards the podium.

You were left alone to your thoughts, but once again you were not granted peace when you felt a soft nudge and an instruction for you to go to the podium and claim the constructor’s trophy.

the playing of the British and German anthems ensued to commemorate your Team as the winners of the race, but honestly, your mind was still muddled however you tried not to show it on your face. And at the last note of the German national anthem, like clockwork chaos filled the podium as non-alcoholic champagne was spraying everywhere. Joining in on the tradition, you took your bottle and sprayed everything and everyone in sight.

Thankfully it was nonalcoholic, it being Abu Dhabi, because if it were true alcohol you were sure that you were drunk. Because, a grinning Lewis Hamilton went near you once more but this time he nears his lips towards you, pecking your cheek on live television, where his girlfriend was just below the podium watching.

A small gasp leaves your mouth and your eyes widen. However realizing that literally thousands of people are watching, you try to play it cool as if it were an action between normal friends — by nudging Lewis aside and rolling your eyes, you then lift the bottle towards yourself and drink from the spout. Oh, how you wished it were alcoholic.

After the podium fiasco and saying goodbye to the team, you immediately went back to your hotel room. Pushing yourself towards the bathroom with your Pjs; a set of shorts and a tank top at hand — you washed off today’s sweat and thoughts. And led yourself to bed.

A celebratory party is sure to happen in Lewis’ honor, which means drinks, loud music, people, and Lewis … Lewis's girlfriend. You will not let yourself experience that, no, not today.

Groaning into your pillow, The series of questionable actions Lewis’ had done today had all come to your mind. Why must you cling to them? They for sure meant nothing to the British Champion. Right? You dug yourself deeper into the rabbit hole of your mind and without knowing you passed out from exhaustion.

And finally, you’ve found peace in slumber. But luck was never on your side, as your sleep was disrupted by unrelenting knocks on your door. Groggy, you slowly stood up and went towards the door, not even bothering to look at the peephole — you opened the door.

“Lewis?” You didn’t believe your eyes, so you rubbed them and lo and behold, it was the Lewis Hamilton in front of you.

“You weren’t at the celebration. you’re my engineer, why weren’t you there“ His voice held coldness and authority. Lewis wasn’t asking for answers, he was demanding them.

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to form sentences. So you just looked up at him.

Lewis’ jaw clenched at your lack of answers.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer little engineer?”

“I wasn’t up for it? “ You tried to excuse. But you wish you didn’t as you saw the change in his expression. Fuck, Lewis was now angry.

He then grabbed your wrist and pulled you and himself into your room. As he closed the door, he pressed your back against it and caged you in between his arms.

“you weren’t up for it?” Lewis reiterated your words menacingly bringing shivers up your spine.

“Tell me, Y/N L/N. Why was my little engineer not celebrating my championship with me huh?” As Lewis spoke, his eyes lingered on your lips then came back up to look at you in the eye.

Not being able to answer or handle his glare, you tried to move your face to the side — only to be stopped by Lewis's finger on your chin. Leading your eyes back to him

“Nu-uh, Y/N. Eyes on me and answer my question. “

“I- i. Uhm” you stuttered as another chill went up your spine as Lewis’ hand now caressed your jaw.

“Speak Y/N” Lewis pressed, now a smirk presented itself on his lips. Your eyes naturally fell towards it At the sight of the smirk that haunted your dreams , you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

Being so concentrated on looking at Lewis’ lips you didn’t see that he too was looking at yours. His eyes darkened at the sight of you chewing at your lips, the habit you’ve done when you wanted something.

Letting go of all pretenses, Lewis drops down and kisses you with his pent-up emotions and tension that brewed between the two of you.

You gasped in surprise, and Lewis took advantage of this and pushed his tongue into yours. He then took your lower lip into his and softly bit it and soothed it by sucking, earning a whimper from you. Your hands slithered up his muscular chest towards his hair. A groan left his lips when you gently pulled at his nape.

At the sound of Lewis’ moans. It was as if you were drenched in ice-cold water. You were kissing Lewis Hamilton. IN A RELATIONSHIP, Lewis Hamilton.

No this was not right. No matter how good and right it felt. He was not yours.

You started to pull away, but Lewis only strengthened his grip on you. Trying once again to connect his lips to yours.

“Lew- I. We can't do this” You tried to push Him away. Yet, Lewis only caught your hand which was trying to create distance between the two of you.

“What, why?”

“Our contract says that we can't have a real-“ you tried to reason

“I don’t care about the contract! I’ll make them change it , I promise.” Lewis tried to calm you

“No, but Lewis we still can’t do this . This is not fair”

“Y/N, If it’s not already obvious, I like you. Fucking hell, I might even lo-“ As Lewis started to explain. You’ve had enough— you will not be a third party.

“ LEWIS YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! “ at your outburst, Lewis was stunned

“I will not be the other woman, Lewis. I will not let myself be degraded to that level… I will not exchange my dignity for you— no matter how much I love you. “ You couldn’t handle it anymore, your tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Baby Shh. Y/N Listen to me. Nicole and I broke up. I ended it earlier. “ Lewis tried to explain.

You just ruined a long-term relationship. The horror suddenly seeped into your brain.

“Fuck, no, it was not your fault Y/N. We’ve been having problems for a while and it was time to let go. You understand? “

You absently nodded, but you knew that you were a major part of their split … and you knew one day that this would come back at you one way or another.

But for now, you will enjoy your success in getting to call Lewis Hamilton yours. You were on the top of the world. Nothing can dampen your high, or so you thought.

2015

“Hey Y/N, did you hear? Red Bull is putting a kid on the track” Bonno, Lewis’ other engineer said. You were at Silverstone, testing several changes done with the car.

“Really? What’s his name?” You asked back

“Max Verstappen”

taglist : @vicurious28

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #red bull racing #max verstappen #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lh44 #team lh44 #lewis x reader #mv1 fic #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33 #mercedes formula one #mercedes #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fic

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (15)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexy mobsters, fluff, established Stucky, angst, implied smut, caring mobsters, pregnant reader,

Indecent Proposal (14)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You freeze the moment your eyes land on the man interrogating you not weeks ago. Brock Rumlow stands right in front of you, eyes dropping to your middle.

“What do we have here?” He dips his head and smirks. “I see you didn’t waste time, Ms. Y/L/N. So, the rumors are true. You moved on really quickly, huh? Maybe we should investigate your boyfriend’s death again and dig a little deeper this time.”

“I told you; he wasn’t my boyfriend when he died,” you try to not sound too scared. “Scott and I parted ways on good terms. We just didn’t work out. Please just leave me alone. I have nothing to do with what happened to him.”

“I don’t believe a single word leaves your lips,” Brock sneers. “They instructed you well. You’re a damn good liar. I wondered why they are so interested in you.” He dips his head to look you up and down. “Your cunt cannot be the only reason. Do you have a connection to the mob, or…”

“Detective,” Steve steps in front of you, blocking Brock’s path. “What brings us the pleasure of your presence?” He has a dangerous glint in his eyes when he looks at Brock. “Do you need diapers or a pacifier?”

“I didn’t take you for a diaper lover,” Bucky steps behind Brock. “No kink-shaming, Detective but this is not the right store to buy you stuff. It’s for babies only.”

“What my polite husband tries to tell you,” Steve sizes Brock up, and narrows his eyes, “is that if you don’t stop harassing our wife, you will regret that you were born.”

“Is that a treat?” Brock cocks his head to glance at you standing behind Steve. “You know that I’m a cop, right?”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and straightens his back to look even taller. 

“Not a treat, Detective,” he says lowly. “It’s a promise.”

“How about we call our lawyer and your boss,” Bucky nearly growls. “I bet they’d love to explain the law and your job to you again. I don’t think that harassing a woman at a store is in your job description.”

“I bet he believed Y/N was alone,” Steve curls his upper lip. “Maybe you would rather be alone with me.” His features darken, and he drops his eyes to the badge in Rumlow’s hand. “We could have so much fun.”

“Maybe he’s scared of being a bottom,” Bucky snickers behind Rumlow’s back. “He’d look good with a collar around his neck, don’t you think Stevie.”

“I’m not one of your boy toys,” Rumlow sneers. “You will pay me the needed respect. I have the right to investigate the death of Scott Lang and to interrogate his ex-girlfriend. We all know you killed him to get the girl.”

“Well in that case,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper the words, “you’re a very brave man for messing with our girl while we are in the middle of shopping for clothes for our baby.”

“Someone might call it suicidal,” Steve adds. He puffs his chest and stares Rumlow down. “We hope you have a wonderful day, Detective. Maybe we can continue our conversation another time.”

“We are terribly sorry, but there are more important things we need to take care of today,” Bucky steps closer to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, offering protection. “If you’d please excuse us now, Detective.”

“Wait, I’m not done—” Rumlow huffs. He can only watch you; Steve and Bucky walk away. You’re trembling and breathing is harder as you are scared to hell and back.

“You need to breathe for me, doll,” Bucky whispers as he guides you toward the entrance. “We will drive home and come back later.”

“I should’ve planted a bullet to his brain right there, in the middle of the store,” Steve grits out. “How dare him to even look at our girl!”

“You called me your wife,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “But we aren’t married, and I don’t think that’s legal. I mean…you’re already married to Bucky and I’m just…”

“You are our wife,” Bucky stops you from doubting your role in your relationship. “We will have a nice ceremony. You can wear a pretty dress, all white and innocent.” He purrs and nuzzles your cheek. “Only for me to rip the dress off your body.”

“Buck,” Steve clears his throat. “We will plan a wedding later. For now, we need to take care of Y/N. And later…” 

He doesn’t say more, but you assume they will do something about Brock Rumlow. You only fear their solution will be final, and get them into more trouble…

“Romanoff, leash your dog and keep him away from our girl or we will put it to sleep,” Steve spits while talking. He yells loud enough to make his husband flinch. “He talked to our girl in the middle of a store. Rumlow is out of control!”

“I’m not his mother nor do I have control over him,” Natasha bites back. “I covered your crimes for years. I’m loyal, and you know it. It’s not my fault Rumlow won’t stop sniffing around. He’s like a dog with its bone.”

“You’ve got one last chance to stop him. If not, we will take care of him,” he says, and steps closer to Natasha. 

“I can’t,” she sighs and shakes her head. “It’s too much to ask for.”

“Don’t act as if you are doing us a favor. We pay you well and make sure you are safe for years,” Steve points out. 

“I did you more than one favor,” she argues and points at Bucky. “How many times did I save your ungrateful asses from getting arrested?”

“All right, well, let me rephrase that, then,” Bucky says and gets his gun out. “You make sure that Rumlow stops scaring our girl, or we will take matters into our own hands. This includes letting everyone in your life know about your dirty little secrets.”

Natasha blanches. She swallows audibly, feeling like a lamb among wolves. So far, Steve and Bucky treated her like an equal, but she’s close to losing their protection and the money she got used to.

“I’ll try,” she sniffs. “Give me a few days. Maybe I can find a way to get rid of him without killing him. I only need to find his dirty little secrets.”

Bucky nods, and hands Natasha an envelope filled with money. “You have a week,” he says. “We want to continue this fruitful business relationship. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, he won’t hurt you, or get close to you, doll,” Steve softly speaks to you while his husband tugs you into bed. “We promise to take care of him.”

“The detective working for us will help us,” Bucky hastily says. He doesn’t want to tell you that they already planned to get rid of Rumlow if Natasha doesn’t find a way to make him stop.

“He scared me, is all,” you whisper and snuggle into the pillow. “I believed he would arrest me, or you.”

“No one will part us, Y/N,” Steve says. “And no one is brave enough to try…”

Part 15.2

Tags in reblog.

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #female reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mafia au #mobster!Steve Rogers #mobster!Bucky Barnes #Indecent Proposal (15) - FIN

[windtowee]

The one where Everyone finds out

Their friends find out their crush on you Tw! Cussing, blackmailing, Creepypasta version Gender neutral! Killer! reader

Slenderman

He mentions his crush on you to Sally, not realizing that Sally cannot keep a secret

Everyone freaks out in a good way

B L A C K M A I L.

He has dirt on them, now they have dirt on him

The only way that he can get rid of the blackmail is if he confesses or if the others say something

He really hates that they have some sort of power over him now

Once his brothers catch wind of this, it’s gonna be hell for Slenderman

It’s a mix of teasing, skits, jokes and blackmail until Slenderman just confesses to get it all to stop

Bloody Painter

They all noticed when Helen painted you with extreme detail

Perfect blackmail material

This egotistical man doesn’t realize the position he put himself in

For example, “Ben, shut the hell up. I am better than you-“ “Helen, I will tell Y/n, you make fan arts of them and hang them on your walls” “… Fuck! You win”

He pouts whenever they threaten him with blackmail or whenever they bring you into the room so he can act like a fumbling idiot

They have a lot of fun with this and they try to soak it in as long as they can

He will deny everything until the others bing out pictures

They just use the crush to make him nicer

BEN Drowned

He tries to play it off as a joke when he accidentally lets it slip when Jeff stole his phone and looked at Ben’s contact’s with your contact name as ‘My Zelda 🩵’

Ben is pretty embarrassed that everyone knows about his crush on you

They will make sure to never live it down and will always bring it up whenever

They will always bring you into the room so that Ben freaks out and glitches due to him being a flustered mess

The others find it funny and cute and kinda astounding

Like “this man is a vengeful ghost and he’s a simp over a cute killer??”

They all have bets about when they think he’s gonna confess to you

Then Ben realizes that he had control over all technology which means he can access search history, two can play at that game.

#creepypasta x reader #slenderman x reader #bloody painter x reader #ben drowned x reader

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Epilogue

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

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #gavisuntiedboot #gavi imagine #pablo gavi fluff #gavi fic #pablo gavi fanfiction #gavi x you #fc barca #gavi fluff #gavi fanfic #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo gavi x reader fluff #fc barcelona #pablo gavi angst #gavi angst #gub just pretend #gavi smut #pablo gavi smut #pablo gavi x reader smut #gavi x reader smut

[semisolidmind]

That anon made me think about a hypothetical scenario of Peng trying to move up on Reader, but tbh I don't think Peng would EVER stand a chance against the twice as bad AU monkey husband duo.

Azure contantly gets the L but he is nice to Reader + he's friends enough with the two warlords to not make them immediately consider killing him if he treats Reader a lil too nicely in the beginning.

He's suspicious but he's a likeable guy, so it's not too weird of him to be genuinely polite to the queen of FFM.

Peng, though? bro's getting COOKED. literally. He's not slick like Azure, if he tried anything it'd be over for him. He's a bird-shaped mean girl, so it would immediately draw suspicion on everyone if he suddenly started being super nice to Reader after being so vocal of his disapproval towards a human queen.

I bet Wukong and Macaque (especially macaque since peng likes antagonizing him so much) would love to have a reason to destroy him in a fight 💀

FR.

like, this feathery fuck could make that mental and emotional switch from "ugh, mortals" to "but this one's kinda ok/how funny would it be to steal her" and you can bet the boys (but mostly macaque) would be on them in a second. there is no way they wouldn't clock the birds' intent the minute the bastard sidles up to reader. they sorta trust azure, they're fine with yellowtusk, but the monkeys KNOW that you canNOT trust peng.

any time the bird has the chance to get reader alone, macaque makes sure to be there or at least within striking distance. he knows reader doesn't trust peng either (and why would she, after their history of shit talking and belittling her), so he's not worried about her falling for any smooth talking, but he is worried that they might cross a line.

i could see this situation coming to a head with peng making some sort of big move on reader, mac hears it and stops it, then challenges them to a fight (like a serious challenge, to the death kinda shit).

and while wukong wants to make that bird into a roast as much as his brother, he knows that it'll be important for macaque to beat the shit out of peng by himself. despite knowing how dangerous the monkey bros can be, peng continued to poke and prod and test the limits of macaque's patience. the monkey king won't deprive his brother of getting to serve some well-deserved comeuppance. in fact, he makes a sort of show of it, announcing the fight and inviting his allies to watch.

the battle is a brutal one. normally wukong is the one to fly into a jealous rage at any slight against reader, while mac is the one to keep a cool head. but this time, the shadowy simian lets aaaaall that carefully controlled anger out in a truly vicious display of power. the bird demon has a tough time keeping up with their rival's attacks. though both combatants take some heavy hits, it's clear that peng is losing.

like. macaque could beat peng to death here, and there really wouldn't be anything anyone could do. the bird broke a rule. they pissed off the wrong demon at the wrong time. given their history, nobody has any reason to stop macaque from slaughtering his rival, and it'd be within his rights to kill them for disrespecting his wife. wukong finds it all far too hilarious to do anything but laugh at peng getting their ass handed to them, and reader knows it's going too far but won't speak on peng's behalf (both because she doesn't like them and she feels like she has no right to deprive mac of his revenge).

azure would have to beg a pardon on behalf of his stupid chicken of a sworn brother before they actually die.

wukong is hesitant to grant it. azure knows what that birdbrain did. they laid hands on the monkey king's queen, and he knows wukong has killed others for far less. that miserable pile of feathers should consider themselves lucky that the monkey king hasn't joined in on their punishment. if azure didn't want his lackey to get beaten bloody, he should've kept them in check. not to mention the fact that peng has had this macaque-issued beat down coming for a loooong time.

by the end of it, peng is nothing more than a crumpled pile of bloody feathers in the dirt. azure and yellowtusk have to scrape them off the ground and portal back to camel ridge in disgrace and defeat. they don't show their faces on flower fruit mountain for a good long while.

as for macaque...despite being clawed, tired, and a little bruised, he reigns victorious. in his adrenaline induced stupor, still covered in dirt and blood, he storms right up to reader and steals a nice, long kiss. it leaves her lightheaded, his hands on her the only thing keeping her up. he huskily promises that they'll "celebrate his victory" later. reader feels a little faint.

wukong would normally protest his brother getting peaches all to himself, but after that fight? eh, he's earned it.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au #i do like an afterbattle kiss #where the one fighting pours all that energy and desperation into a good deep smooch #good stuff right there

[jdbellingham]

The Deal (Part One - “I’ve never seen you look so sexy”)

a 10 Things I Hate About You inspired series featuring Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham(patrick verona) x reader(kat stratford)

summary: a new student arrives at Birmingham City Football Club Academy (BCFCA), Cameron Thomas, who sets his sights on y/n’s sister Caroline. unfortunately for him, Caroline cannot date until her so called “heinous bitch” of sister does. he sets out to do everything he can in order for that to happen, even if that means convincing the academy’s most well known player—Jude Bellingham.

note: here it is as promised. I hope this isn’t too boring

word count: 3k

warnings: sexual jokes (I don’t remember what I wrote), underwhelming lol

“How you doing?” Eric greeted as he approached Jude, who was sweating profusely from the practice he had just left.

Jude stared blankly at him, then turned to his teammates, giving them a look that said “Why the hell is he talking to me.”

Eric, used to being treated like the popular boy he was, felt slightly taken aback by the cold shoulder treatment; yet he managed to continue.

“I just bought a new lighter,” Eric said, trying to start a conversation while also taking a dig at the fact Jude was known for lighting the lawn of a school he had lost a match to in year 10.

“Do I know you?” Jude asked, bringing his water bottle to his lips and taking a long sip.

Eric stopped beating around the bush and began explaining, “You see that girl over there?”

Jude put down his bottle and looked over to where Eric was pointing before responding with a “Yeah,” his voice laden with indifference.

“That’s Y/n L/n,” Eric explained, and Jude gave him a look.

“She’s on my team you idiot,” Jude told him, Eric’s face immediately reddening.

“Right, sorry I forgot she was on Birmingham FC’s EFL team,” Eric reached for the back of his neck before he continued, “I want you to go out with her,”

Jude laughed, incredulous of how a boy he didn’t even know could walk up to him and order him around like that. He pondered for a moment if he should simply walk away and leave the conversation behind, but some small part of him was intrigued by what Eric had to say.

“Yeah, sure,” Jude responded sarcastically, shaking his head while his teammates howled with laughter.

“Look, I can’t take out her sister until Y/n starts dating,” Eric added, “You see, their dad is whacked out, he’s got this rule where his girls-

“That’s a touching story, really is. But it’s not my problem,” Jude cut him off before he could go into more detail, and began packing up his kit.

Nonetheless, Eric remained confident, “Would you be willing to make it your problem if I offered you some generous compensation?”

Jude paused, his eyes shifting back to Eric before he scoffed.

“You’re going to pay me to go out with some bird?” Jude raised his brows, before taking off his practice jersey and slinging it around his neck.

Eric hummed in agreement then Jude chuckled, his head dropping down to face the ground as he stuck his tongue into the side of the cheek.

Jude looked up again before asking “How much?”

He knew he didn’t need the money but what harm could it do? It wasn’t as if Y/n would actually let him take her on a date.

“20 euros,” Eric responded, and Jude scrunched his brows. That wasn’t worth his while.

“No shot,” Jude frowned, “That doesn’t even cover the cost of taking her to the movies,”

“Fine, 30,” Eric countered, crossing his arms.

“75, take it or leave it,” Jude’s voice flattened, he wasn’t going to waste his time doing this if it was for nothing.

“50,” Eric pushed, growing annoyed.

“100,” Jude countered, staring directly into his eyes.

“75,” Eric groaned, exasperation seeping into his voice, handing over the bills.

“Okay, deal,” Jude looked away from Eric and over to where Y/n was practicing her corner goals. She started from the lower left corner of the pitch and her foot lifted to the bottom of the ball, hitting it at the perfect angle and sending it smoothly into the upper right corner of the goal. He had always known that Y/n was good but he never said anything to her, knowing anything he said wouldn’t matter. They worked together smoothly without the unnecessary communication and chit chat, mutually understanding each other's style of play. They became nearly untouchable when put on the pitch together, Jude set her up for goals, getting the ball to her when he could, and Y/n would indefinitely score. And when Y/n was midfielder and Jude was center forward, they would still do the same thing, their roles simply switched. Jude wondered if their bond while playing would be affected by this stupid deal, but he had already started towards her so he wasn’t going to back out now.

“Hi there,” Jude greeted, and Y/n looked him up and down. Her eyes lingered a split second longer on his bare abdomen, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Move,” She ordered, looking away and focusing on the ball. Y/n took a moment to consider the alternate path of sending it into Jude’s crotch just for kicks, but decided against it, remembering the consequences of the last time she’d aimed for a males privates.

“What are you doing?” Jude asked, despite the fact he already knew.

Y/n didn’t respond, instead opting to make another corner kick.

“You already know that, what do you want,” She crossed her arms as the ball swished into the net of the goal.

“That’s certainly a way to get a guys attention,” Jude ignored her previous statement, his eyes focused on the ball she had once again managed to kick into the goal.

“Ah yes, my mission in life. Getting the attention of males,” Y/n agreed, before continuing, “And obviously it worked, seeing as you’re here,”

“The world makes sense again,” She plastered on a phony smile, walking over to get the ball. Jude laughing behind her as he followed, staying within her proximity as she went back to the bleachers to her kit.

“Pick you up on Friday then?” Jude asked, and Y/n responded without missing a beat.

“Oh right, Friday, uhuh,” She nodded, downing a gulp of water before she reached down to the hem of her jersey, pulling it above her head to reveal her sports bra which was damp with sweat. In her mind she wished she had just kicked the ball into Jude’s.

“I’ll take you places you’ve never seen before,” Jude’s brows went up and down and he stared at her back as she bent over to unlace her shoes. He was beginning to enjoy the banter, it was a nice change of pace from the silence broken by an occasional “nice”, “you did well”, or “good job” they usually shared.

“Oh? Like the theatre 4 miles away on Grant?” Y/n asked, unimpressed. She stood straight again, pulling off the light blue pre-wrap on her forehead.

“Do you even know what number I am?” Y/n questioned, eyeing Jude when she put her jersey into her kit.

“12,” Jude answered easily, “I know a lot more than you think,”

“Doubtful, very doubtful,” Y/n laughed, picking up her bag and walking away. For some strange reason, the refusal left Jude only more encouraged.

From a discreet spot in the bleachers, Cameron and Marcus watched the exchange and groaned.

“We are screwed,” Cameron whined, his hopes of dating Caroline felt like they’d be dashed.

“Hey I don’t want to hear that defeatist attitude,” Marcus demanded.

“We are screwed!” Cameron exclaimed, and Marcus nodded in approval.

“Better,”

Cameron had gone through the effort of becoming the practice partner of Caroline, Y/n’s sister, and talked to her only to find out that she could only date if Y/n did. Then he had managed to get the academy’s most affluent player to approach Jude (more like inceptioned him to), knowing he wouldn’t listen to Cameron himself—only for Jude to fail. If this didn’t work he had no other options left.

“If Jude can’t do this himself we need to help him,” Cameron finally spoke, looking to Marcus who hummed in agreement.

Cameron knew that Y/n was difficult, when he had spoken to Caroline she had explained that Y/n used to be popular, but at the end of year 11 something had flipped. It was like she was sick of it or something, and she began dedicating all her time to football. It paid off, she was one of the best strikers in the league, the men’s league she had somehow gotten into. She was so good that Birmingham Academy decided to put her on their EFL team, but of course it came with the price of her becoming a heinous bitch (Marcus’s words not Cameron’s).

˚ ✧ ˚

The next day Jude found Y/n on the football pitch during the free period they happened to share, and sat by her school bag watching as she did passing drills around a set of bright orange cones.

It was normal to see her at the pitch during the middle of the day, she was known for practicing every possible moment.

When she finally finished up and went to grab her water, she saw him staring at her.

“Nice passes,” Jude complimented before she could let out the string of complaints she probably had waiting to be let out. “You’re quick on your feet,”

“Are you following me?” Y/n scoffed, grabbing her water that was situated next to Jude.

“I was going to get my jacket, and saw you were practicing. I decided to come say hi,” Jude shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Hi,” Y/n replied, obviously glaring at Jude.

“Not a talker, huh?” Jude remarked watching as Y/n began changing. She didn’t quite care that he was there, letting him watch as she switched her athletic shirt for a tank top. However he averted his gaze when Y/n switched her soccer shorts for denim ones.

“Depends on the topic,” She replied, “Passing drills don’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy,”

“You’re not afraid of me are you,” Jude said, half a question half a statement.

“Why would I be afraid of you,” Y/n laughed, folding her clothes and putting them into her bag.

“According to popular belief, I lit a school on fire because I was a sore loser. So most people are,” Jude replied, standing up.

“Well I’m not,” Y/n responded, slinging the bag over her shoulders. She noticed how Jude had purposefully shifted to block her from exiting the field.

“Well maybe you’re not afraid me but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked,” Jude suggested smiling coyly.

“Am I that transparent?” Y/n asked, acting shocked. “I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby,” She groaned while rolling her eyes, and Jude found his smile growing wider, his laugh genuine.

Y/n pushed past him and out of the football pitch, and Jude let her. He stared as she walked away, realizing that he had grown a liking to her. When she was finally out of sight he shook his head, wondering how on earth he had managed to start fancying the most out of control girl he had ever met.

˚ ✧ ˚

“We know what you’re trying to do with Y/n L/n,” Cameron said over the loud commotion of the craft room, Marcus nudging him forward.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Jude replied unfazed, continuing to saw away at a piece of wood.

“We want to help,” Cameron replied, and Jude’s eyes didn’t budge from the wood.

“And why is that?” Jude inquired, finally giving the pair a glance.

“The deal is that my friend here has a major jones for Caroline L/n,” Marcus paused, waiting for Jude to say something.

“What is it with that girl?” Jude muttered, it seemed as if everyone wanted a piece of her.

“I uh, I think I speak correctly when I say Cameron’s love is pure, purer than let’s say Eric’s,” Marcus continued, to which Jude answered.

“Look I’m in this for the cash, Eric can plow whoever he wants,”

“Okay there will be no plowing,” Cameron interjected, getting heated. Jude sniggered under his breath at the year 12 boy.

“Jude, let me clear one thing up—we set this whole thing up so Cameron, yeah Cameron, could get Caroline. Eric’s just a pawn,” Marcus elaborated.

“So you’re going to help me tame the wild beast?” Jude quirked a brow, and glanced over at the duo again.

“Absolutely. We’ll do research, find out what she likes and get back to you. We’re your guys,” Marcus smiled, grabbing Cameron’s shoulder who added:

“In a strictly non group of arsonist buddies type of way,”

Jude stared at Cameron, not sure whether to laugh or punch him.

“Uh, sorry. Now, Friday night Bogey Lowenstein is having a party. Perfect opportunity,” Marcus shifted the conversation before Jude could react.

“Perfect opportunity for what?” Jude asked, his full attention now on Marcus.

“For you to take out Y/n,” Marcus gave a doubtful look.

“I’ll think about it,” Jude replied, though he had already made up his mind.

˚ ✧ ˚

Marcus and Cameron arrived at the locker room Jude had told them too, Cameron having just snooped through Y/n’s dorm with the help of Caroline.

Jude arrived shortly thereafter, out of breath from running there after his practice ended.

“So what have you got for me?” Jude asked, his hands at his sides, chest going up and down as he panted.

“A little insight into a very complicated girl,” Cameron replied, crossing his arms and leaning into a locker.

“All right, first thing. Y/n hates chapped lips,” Cameron cleared his throat, looking at Jude’s lips which were thoroughly dry.

“So you’re telling me I use chapstick,” Jude raised his brows, subconsciously licking his lips.

“Yes, well—just for now,” Marcus explained.

“And um, here’s another problem, Caroline says Y/n likes pretty guys,” Cameron added, looking from Marcus back to Jude.

Jude stared blankly at the two for a few moments before saying “Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?”

“He’s very pretty!” Marcus immediately countered, and Cameron followed with a “Yeah yeah I just wasn’t sure—I didn’t know,” the pair of them playing it off.

Jude visibly relaxed, and Cameron took it as a sign for him to continue. “Alright, uh yeah, okay here’s this,” Cameron reached into his back pocket and pulled out a list.

“Likes: Thai food, feminist prose, and angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion. Here’s a list of CDs she has in her dorm,” Cameron handed the list over.

“So I’m supposed to buy her some noodles and a book and sit around listening to girls who can’t play their instruments right?” Jude remarked sardonically.

“Have you ever been to Club Skunk? Her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night,” Marcus answered, and Jude’s face paled.

“I cannot be caught at Club Skunk, alright?” Jude pursed his lips into a thin line.

“But she’ll be there, she’s got tickets,” Cameron pushed back.

“Assail your ears for one night,” Marcus joined in, and Jude caved.

Dear lord what had he gotten himself into.

˚ ✧ ˚

Jude arrived at Club Skunk, not quite believing that he was spending his evening at a club full of girls. He pushed his way through the crowd, the music growing louder the further he got into the club.

Eventually he spotted Y/n, who was dancing in a black spaghetti strapped satin dress. He smiled at the sight, and stared as Y/n began laughing with a friend.

He found himself fixated on her, this was a side of Y/n he had never once seen revealed before. And he liked it.

His dark doe eyes filled with adoration as Y/n smiled brightly and cheered when the song changed, before he came to his senses and went to the bar, knowing she would eventually come there.

“Bellingham! What are you doing here tonight?” Huxley, the bartender, greeted. He knew Jude and his mates from his days at the local pub.

“Oh you know, just here for the girl,” Bellingham grinned, then asked for water.

A good few minutes later, Y/n came up to the bar, asking Huxley for 2 waters. As she stood there waiting she glanced to the side, noticing Jude sitting at a stool, inconspicuously staring at the band on stage.

She immediately frowned, and after paying for the drinks she approached him.

“If you’re planning on asking me out again you might as well get it over with,” She said loudly, barely audible over the noise of the club.

“Do you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me,” Jude said right as she finished talking, and Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Your lips aren’t as chapped as they usually are,” Y/n noticed, changing the subject.

“I know, I started using chapstick, it was about time I got a tube,” Jude replied, continuing to act nonchalant when he knew he was an imposter in this club.

“You think?” Y/n laughed, her eyes focused on Jude’s mouth.

“You know these guys are no Bikini Kill or the Raincoats,” Jude remarked, bringing up other musicians he knew Y/n liked, adding “But they’re not bad,” before he stood up and started walking away.

Y/n’s smile stuck to her face, but it was a puzzled one, she stood fixated to her spot for a second before she ran to catch up to Jude.

“You know who the Raincoats are?” She demanded, her eyes squinted in puzzlement.

“Why, don’t you?” Jude shot back, pretending as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to know who they were.

A series of fed up expressions crossed Y/n’s face, and Jude proceeded to keep talking as the song currently played ended.

“You know I was watching you out there,” Jude commented, his voice straining to be heard over the music, “I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” The second part came out just as the song finished, and the whole club heard and began laughing.

Y/n let out a chuckle, beaming at Jude. Jude’s head leaned low, and for a moment it seemed like he was about to kiss her before he pulled his head a bit back.

“Come to Bogey’s party with me,” Jude suggested, and Y/n moved her head from side to side.

“You never give up, do you?”

“Was that a yes?” Jude asked, voice loud again as a new band started playing.

“No,” Y/n shouted, walking away.

“Was that a no?” Jude yelled after her, keeping his gaze focused on her as she disappeared into the crowd.

“No!” Y/n replied, and Jude’s lips pulled upward into the largest smile he’d ever had.

SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASE!! I’ll write for Jude and Neymar (Jude preferred tbh 🤭) and if it’s another player, message me and if I have enough slots I’ll write a fic just for you 😁

note: I am so sorry that took so long to come out, I wrote like 5 different variations of this and this was the best and it’s still underwhelming so I’m super sorry. part two will be written if people actually want it

taglist! : @raspberii @xaelia-au @mxyzptlkss @nonaism @itsmevalery @neysl0ver @crowdthena @qvirky-y @azvault @britneysbitch @futbol10 @cooloperajudgebear @lomlcherry @slvt4peterparker @saywhatiwants @richarlisonluvr @milkteabish @kyekai @jinjidontucry @wavessmile @angelxxrose @meehhangryfun @fezlvr @wonderharryy @graysondolansmaid @hazalnut @enjoymyloves @njn4118 @guska0

click here to be added to my taglist!!

I’m so sorry if you see your name on the taglist but weren’t tagged, it says your blog doesn’t exist but it’s probably because you have a private blog i don’t follow so I’m not allowed to tag!

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #neymar imagines #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude Bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x reader imagine #neymar jr fluff #neymar jr fanfiction #trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander arnold imagine #Phil foden x reader #mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #jude Bellingham x y/n #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe x you #Jude Bellingham x y/n imagine #!jdbellingham #Jude bellingham x reader smut #neymar jr imagine #jude bellingham fanfiction #Jude bellingham x you smut

[cosmicstarlatte]

Your work is AMAZING! I hope you're proud of yourself! 💕

I was wondering if you could write how the brothers would react to finding out you're insecure about your body/ looks? I feel like Lucifer and Beel would be so so sweet to MC 🥰

Have a wonderful rest of your day and stay safe!

Thank you!!! 🥺 Sorry for the wait friend, I nervously kept rewriting this for a while 😆♡

MC Feeling Insecure (Obey Me!)

"The truth is...I've always been insecure about my body and how I look." You say, confiding in your favorite demon one day.

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: GN Reader, Fluff/Some Humor, Bulleted Style, Levi being down bad in his weird sweet way, Satan with the rizz™️

»Notes: I use beautiful+gorgeous+darling so if that bothers you then you should probably skip this!

Lucifer:

"You like to give me headaches." (Affectionate)

He just thought you knew how beautiful you are, he was surprised

The avatar of pride was going to teach you a lesson, it's what he does best after all

"We'll work through it together. I'll show you what I love about you."

And show you he did; he kissed every part of you that he loved- which was everything

He would tell you how great you looked, even in front of others

He took pride in that; it comes in many forms you see

He gave you daily affirmations and was patient with you on your bad days

One day he held your face gently and made you look at him: "I've been around for centuries and have had the opportunity to see all the realms...and I'd never met someone as beautiful as you." ♡♡♡

Mammon:

"Huh?"

He got real quiet...he was mildly annoyed

Actually, he started getting a little mad

How could you not see how perfect you are!?

Fine! Tch!

He took both your hands and looked at you intensely, knowing his face was burning

"Listen here-!"

"YoureTheMostBeautifulBeingInAllTheRealms!"

"You'rePerfection! ICantKeepMyEyesOffYou!"

Although his face was burning, he hoped in his heart that you understood how beautiful you are, it hurt him to think you thought otherwise

From then on he made an effort everyday (he hoped it helped) to tell you something he liked about you in his own Mammon way

Usually via text bc in person was too much for the tsundere sometimes

(1) New text from Mammon: Look all I'm sayin' is I know beautiful treasure when I see it, got it?

Levi:

"Ehh!?!"

He was not having it!

He thinks you're the most perfect thing ever!

The most precious thing to have ever graced his disgustingly bleak life!

He felt a little bad at his outburst, he didn't mean to disregard your feelings

He knows a thing or two about insecurities after all

But he just cannot have you thinking that way and wanted to help you if he can!

The demon otaku pulled out a ready made powerpoint on why you're the absolutely perfect 3D partner

"L-look... all in all...you're beautiful! And I'll do a-anything I can to help you see that!"

He made it a point to worship you every day no matter how nervous he was

Yes he started a fan club, yes everyone else joined

Even Henry and Cerberus were a part of it

Satan:

"Hm. To think, I didn't expect someone as gorgeous as you would actually give me the time of day."

Tbh he also understands insecurities with one's self

He didn't know you also suffered through the same; and he wasn't going to let you go through it alone

"For what it's worth, I think you're absolute perfection." He said placing a kiss on your forehead

Brought out some self help books and the two of you went through them together

He would leave you daily positive handwritten notes

That didn't stop him from telling you how gorgeous you are in person though

Asmo:

"What!? I think you're absolutely gorgeous...Do you want to talk more about it?"

He was familiar with insecurities too, unbeknownst to...nearly everyone, so he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go through this alone!

He lent an ear and reassured you that you were so perfect and that you'll see it one day like so many others do

"Do you know how many demons and monsters we have to chase off everyday!?" "What!?" "Nevermind! But darling you are downright gorgeous down to your soul!"

Your personal hype man

Started hyping you up every morning before RAD...eventually everyone started joining in, even Lucifer

Beel:

"You're perfect the way you are?"

This big guy was confused, he didn't mean to sound rude or anything to your feelings

He just wasn't prepared for your confession

He thought you were divine; if he didn't know any better he'd think you were from the celestial realm

No matter-- he was going to help you see your beauty one way or another

He hugged you tightly, "Thank you for trusting me"

He held your hand as the two of you talked and he tried to reassure you the best he could

He covered you in kisses and, if you were okay with it, gave extra attention to the parts you hated

"You're delicious in so many ways. You're really beautiful."

Looked up ways to make you feel better and made you a jar with little daily affirmation notes ♡

Like everyone else, also told you personally everyday how beautiful you are

Belphie:

"...That's dumb."

Okay, even he thought that came out a little harsher than intended...leave it to him to be blunt

"I mean, I literally dream about you and when I'm awake you're better than any dream. You're beautiful."

He hugged you in hopes of making you feel better

"Look I'm not good at these things but I'll remind you everyday how amazingly gorgeous you are, alright?"

If you happen to nap/sleep together, he will whisper sweet stuff into your ear

"I'll keep saying these things until you believe it. And continue to, even after you realize it yourself."

⬦You might also like: You ARE The Father︱Giving Him Flowers︱Only You (Lucifer) ︱Radiant (Beel)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me fic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹ #✩ — the star: lucifersimp333!

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

#loser!theo #theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter headcanons #theodore nott headcanons #theo nott headcanons #hp #lightning era #hermione granger #mione #blaise #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #theodore faustus nott #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin gang #autistic!theo nott #imagine #thats probably enough tags #i just want ppl to read this #:D

[behoright]

console me l m. barzal

how it feels to rest / on your patient lips

summary: as angry as mat is after the season loss, he cannot hide it from you. mostly plotless smut

wordcount: 4.6k

warnings: minors DNI! 18+ only. smut, sexual situations that include rough sex, degrading language and behaviors, pain/pleasure dynamics, pet names, consent break/check, bodily fluids. mentions of size difference and love lol.

a/n: for all my sad, islanders girlies. masterlist is fixed! muah.

read me please:  i cannot say this any more clearly: this is not for everyone. read at your discretion. the warnings are stated as clearly as i can my loves. my inbox is always open to have any discussion about writing, relationships, sex, bdsm and kink. if this makes you uncomfortable or simply is not your cup of tea, move on my dear. love u guys always.

⊹　 　　🎧　 　　 ⁾⁾　

It really took only a day to figure out.

As much as he tried to hide it, leave it at the rink.

Anger. 

Mat had never been so pissed before. 

For once, he knew that he had given it his all. 

He had sacrificed, time and time again. 

Played through sickness, injuries, birthdays, and special events. 

Harder than ever before.

Despite knowing that everything passes, he couldn’t shake the thought, or perhaps the fact, that there had been other factors that cost the team the cup. 

Things out of his control. 

And it drove him to the edge every night.

Having to see his teammates get more disappointed with every passing second on the ice. 

Knowing that their dream was slipping away from them, no matter how much he had clawed and fought to hold on. 

He spent extra time at the gym, on the ice, hours after the last painful loss, just to attempt to get rid of the anger. 

But it wasn’t working. 

Instead, it just fueled the apparent neverending and burning cycle.

The last thing he wanted to do was bring his negativity home. 

Back to you. 

To the safe haven you had both built so meticulously. 

The only person that stood by his side, in every sense of the word, didn’t deserve to take the brunt. 

However, you could see the cracks. 

He was very good at veiling it, but not good enough for you. 

The past couple days had brought you a huge sense of gratitude, knowing you were in a relationship that stripped your souls and bodies. 

Fully being yourselves at all times. 

So, as you packed to begin your various summer travels, you knew you had no other choice.

Something was pounding, deep from inside you, to open this door for you two. 

You stood in your shared room, watching Mat’s muscular back crouched down in the walk in closet as he messily threw his shirts in his luggage.

“Mat?” you called him, voice shaky.

“Hmm, babe?” he asked, still packing. 

“How are you feeling?”

The question wasn’t anything new, a domestic ritual you two had to keep your connection based in truth wholly. 

Since you had both promised to listen without any stories or distractions in exchange for the complete truth, every single time, it had become easier to share.

“Well, love…” he sighed, not daring to face you as his face stiffened, your question bringing up his most repressed feelings. “I’m angry. I’m fucking frustrated at how it all ended, you know?”

“You are?” you said, walking towards him, picking at the skin on your hands nervously.

“Yeah, baby. It’s okay, I mean, it’ll pass. But I’m angry.”

“Take it out on me.” you blurted out, strong in your stance and words, now only a couple of feet behind him. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Mat stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as his mind emptied, only being able to stare at the half empty suitcase in front of him. 

Whether he liked to admit it or not, he knew that you could see right through him. 

There was no hiding from the woman he loved. 

“I know that we’ve talked about this before but… are you sure you can handle it?” he questioned, turning around to look at you. 

“I know I can, Mat.”

“Baby…”

The overhead warm light surrounded your head like a halo as he looked up at you. 

He wondered, during a poetic moment, how his angel could be giving herself over to him like this. 

“I’m asking for it.” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Can you handle it?”

For a moment he forgot that his sweet angel was no such thing behind closed doors. Ever since the first night, he saw that dark fire inside you, and it hadn’t gone out in years. 

Mat was the perfect fan to your flames.

“Oh, so it’s like that huh?” Mat answered, his lips curling up into a smirk as he stood up to tower over you. “Will you tell me if you need me to stop?”

“Yes.” you gulped as you two stood just inches apart. “I remember my word.”

“You do, huh?” he asked as you saw his feet take one last step towards you, the fabric of his shirt ghosting over yours.

“I can take it.” you repeated, getting lost in his eyes as you looked up into his dark eyes.

“Yeah, we can take it, right, baby?” he uttered, his fingers wrapping around the sides of your neck as his eyes looked down upon you. “We fucking can.”

His lips finally met yours, Mat’s tongue swiping feverishly on your bottom lip before invading your mouth, drippingly meeting yours in a heated makeout session.

The belligerence of his kiss sent a moan reberverating inside his open mouth. 

Mat loved to make out. He could do it for hours, until his cock began to twitch restlessly in his denim. 

He opened his mouth fully, letting you invade each other messily. 

Lately, he had taken it as far as to spit in your mouth. Not forcefully, but just letting a trail of spit drip from the tip of his tongue into your throat, the height difference coming to his advantage.

It felt so fucking primal to him that it always sent you flying against a wall everytime he’d see the look of passion and satisfaction in your eyes after you swallowed his saliva.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about? All those times I was heated, venting at you?”

he asked, forcing you to take steps back into the bedroom, still holding you tightly, the tips of his fingers pushing against the ridges of your scalp. 

“Yes.” you whispered into a kiss. The sensual murmur drove him to bite your bottom lip, pull it towards him as he stopped your motions.

“Oh, what is wrong with you, baby? That’s so fucking bad.” he said, watching the bite swell up exquisitely as you smiled, enticing him into more kisses. 

More spit, boiling into each other and pushing each other unconsciously as you two ondulated in your heat. He began to shove himself intensely against you, getting more of those moans he loved so much. 

“You can’t even be quiet when I kiss you.” he said, shaking his head slowly as his hand came to rest on the front of your neck. He flinched backwards when you attempted to kiss him again. 

It was his bedroom now.

“Come here.” he barked, sitting down on the bed. “This will shut you up.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself before you kneeled in front of him, not even giving him a chance to undo his pants before your mouth salivated over him. He rested his long fingers on your shoulder, almost keeping you tamed as he pulled out his erection.

“Eager, eager girl.” he chuckled, watching you leap onto him.

You wished you could take him entirely the second your tongue met the salty precum that had dribbled down his shaft, but that had never been a possibility. 

Unbeknownst to you, Mat fucking loved it. 

He adored that you struggled to take him, that you wanted so hard to swallow him whole at a first try. 

His head fell back, exposing his thick adam’s apple as it thumped in his throat, Mat trying to hide his gulps every time your lips wrapped around him lower and lower. 

You knew just how to please him, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks just at the right minute spots that still took his by surprise every single time.

Mat felt your desperation as you kept taking him down, so eager to please him. For a second, it enchanted him, filling him with gratitude that he had a partner that so badly wanted to destress him. 

However, it was short-lived.

It was not what you wanted, or what he needed.

“Fuck.”

It felt good, his toes slowly beginning to curl as he felt strings of precum coat the back of your throat, but the more he channeled the feeling that he had pushed away for so long, the more restless he became.

Every time you gagged, your muscles would clench around him, shocking him with exhilarating stimulation.

“Sit up. Now.” he said, strictly, jumping out of his experience. You tentatively moved away from him, the only thing connecting you two now being a sloppy trail of saliva.

“Baby, I-, I-...” you said, uncertainly.

“You what? Hmm?” he asked, undressing as you stared at him dumbfounded. 

Throughout the years, Mat had never sounded so stern in the bedroom as he did now. 

“You asked for angry Mat, didn’t you?” he continued, tapping your head demeaningly in an effort to sit you up. “Beggars can’t be choosers, doll.”

The register in his voice was forceful and humiliating enough to send your desire running down the inside of your thighs, his muscular hands working on practically ripping your clothes off so harshly that he had thrown you off balance a couple of times.

Your heart began to race in anticipation as he silently threw the half-trashed garments through the room. 

He was decisive, precise in his actions, and it made you slightly trepid.

Prolepsis and nerves mixing acidly in your stomach; you knew you had the choice to revoke consent anytime, but you were grounded enough to know that Mat was the safest man to do this with.

Apart from working up to it for months now, and seeing him slowly come out of his shell and let go further every time he got you to himself behind closed doors, you knew how much you wanted this. 

Your body knew as well, your blood rushing rapidly to your cunt as he kept grazing against your skin, snapping the back of your bra before discarding it mindlessly. You could feel the flames of his subjugated feelings simmering again, coming to the surface the more he got out of his head and into his body, his breath becoming deeper and hotter against your skin, breathing out frustration with low, vibrational groans.

“Get on the bed.” he yapped as soon as you were fully naked, his hand pushing you a tad bit too potently onto your bed; so much so that you naturally rested your sweaty limbs on the blankets on all fours.

“Look how wet you are. You’re not embarrassed?” he spit out, running his finger up your slit sloppily as he set himself behind you. “I haven’t even touched you, Y/N.”

He was just a hair over the line, authoritative in his colloquy and pinpointing his acts precisely to get you where he wanted. 

He didn’t care to run himself on your slit, not tonight, his cock still dripping with your thick spit. He thrusted entirely into you, his pounding head coming in contact with your cervix instantly, making your body barely jolt forward. 

“You should be fucking ashamed, Y/N, not moaning.” he barked, as he began to move painfully slow. His thick length, running in and out of your tight walls at a lethargic pace. 

Still, feeling every inch so powerfully split you apart with no preparation, the ridges of his member and his veins skimming your engorged insides ripped moans out of you like never before. 

“You just love being a fuck toy for me, don’t you.” he said, roughly intensifying the grip on your hips as he gradually sped up his movements. He sounded just as rough, doing his best to hold back any signs of satisfaction, but it wasn’t easy. He had made you into a mess so quickly and it mostly came down to his demeanor. 

Ever since he met you, he knew he’d treat you right and respectfully, only you.

He never cared to seem friendly to other girls, truthfully; because he had you. 

The only girl that had naturally commanded such a soft love and tenderness out of him. It was almost ironic to him how the tougher he was with you in between the sheets, the more you melted. 

And god, did he love to see you like this.

Spread vulnerably and already on the brink after a handful of thrusts. 

It drove him mad, struggling to keep any self-control just to have you on a tittering edge. 

But feeling you drip around him, your yearning for him ebbing and flowing out of your pussy as it mixed with the spit that you’d left on his cock, now all of it mixing and coating both of you. 

“Yeah, my little doll.” he said, masking his exasperation as he found a steady rhythm that made your ass recoil delightfully against his pelvis, the chiseled V that framed his cock pounding hard into your flesh as you began to see stars.

Your mouth was stuck open, wanting his call out his name miserably but finding it impossible as the tension kept building within you, tightening your pussy all around and sending shivers down his back as his legs began to tense, inch by inch.

He groaned deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and striving to pivot on that feeling he adored so much, all the sensations that came with being buried deep inside you. 

But all he found was that anger.

The emotion he had tried to leave at work, to get past.

The one that you had noticed.

For good reason, because it was unignorable.

And so he focused on it, the frustration that he had accumulated for months beginning to expand and find its way insidiously through every vessel, every corner of his being. His jaw clenched, the more he let it take over him, the more pleasure would grow, passing from you to him and burning brightly in his belly.

The hinges of the bed creaked and slammed against the wall, his bedframe scratching against his beloved wooden floor as his ears were blessed with your saccharine moans, leaving you unexpectedly and unplanned. 

Your body knew how to take him precisely as his thrusts moved you forward, encouraging all the natural sounds to come out of you instinctively. 

He was afraid that if he let go of your hips that he would lose it. 

He was afraid that he’d pound you right into the mattress; instead, he had a set intention to make this last, to see how far he could take you.

Mat had never heard you sound so beautiful, he thought, just as his rage came to a peak; he could feel his joints begin to sore as he gave it his all, unwilling to stop and let go, fully zoned into unloading his stress. 

He never knew it would bring you so much bliss as he looked down and saw the consequences, heavenly squelching echoing against his growls. He knew you were losing it, micro mannerisms in your body letting him see that you were reaching your orgasm hastily. 

He didn’t need to see your face.

He knew that that familiar blush had knocked at your door, covering your cheeks expansively as your moaning got more high-pitched and frenetic, your pussy twitching around his moving cock. 

“Slow down, you’re making a fucking mess.” he commanded, smugly knowing it would allow it to rip through you, just as it did. 

His knuckles turned white just as yours did, the grip on your sheets fatally unyielding as you let go, coming over Mat. 

The pleasure sparking every synapse in your brain, the cozy feeling flashing through you over and over again as he kept fucking, still roughly and aggressively. 

“You’re fucking gushing.” he said, brave enough to let a hand come down, hard on your ass. The nonchalant tone of disgust in his voice made your whole body light up, tiny bumps forming on your skin at his words as you began to come down from your orgasm.

Mat kept relentlessly, only speeding up, just edging at the border of being too much. As he hit the same spot over and over again, forcefully, your limbs became weak, succumbing to the tremoring that Mat was sending through your system. 

The more you came on him, the more degrading he’d become, periodically spitting onto your core. You knew it wasn’t for any functional purpose more than for humiliating pleasure, giving you everything you craved and more. You couldn’t ask for more, his groans and insults filling up the room; however, the needier you acted, the more Mat would crack under you. 

And the more you pretended you didn’t notice it, the harder your eyes would roll back. 

“You’re so fucking loud, god damn. I’d tell you to shut up, but I know you can’t do it, you’re so heated up.”

Your muscles started to twitch faintly as he snuck his hand around you to rub your clit vigorously, pushing against your skin with sadistic pressure. As much as you tried to get any words of warning out, your body betrayed you, falling pathetically flush against the mattress, the only thing leaving you a whimper. 

The movement wasn’t surprising to you; you had noticed the build-up and distress signals a while ago but had stupidly given in to the thrill instead. 

For Mat, however, it was a different story.

Seeing you tremble against his milky sheets, writhing around slowly and whimpering had him worried immediately. He pulled out swiftly before turning you around.

Thankfully, your eyes found each other, giving him an encouraging sign of lucidity from you.

“Look into my eyes. Are you okay?” he said, clenching his fingers underneath your chin. 

“M’kay.” 

Through blurry vision, you were able to find his dark gaze, regardless of how he was touching your face. The grip on your cheek was so protective and yet you couldn’t ignore the hedonism in his touch.

“What is it? I’m not going to keep fucking you if you’re lying to me.” he said, harshly.

Your brain had melted, completely caved into him, his energy and touch that had brought you to this place so quickly. The unfamiliar floaty feeling neighbored you as you began to tranquilize your boyfriend.

“I’m not lying.” you muttered lazily, gaining enough strength to prop yourself up on your elbows, your nose now touching his. “It just feels so good, Mat.”

Your confession took Mat by surprise. 

His worst fear was taking it all too far, unwillingly hurting you in any way, whether that be physically or otherwise. 

All the same, here you were, in all of your splendor under him, shaking from pleasure. 

It didn’t take long to realize that perhaps he had induced some sort of high, if that was possible.

“You need a kiss?” he asked, his eyes still diligently studying your face. “You need a kiss, don’t you, yeah, come here.”

It wasn’t frenzied or fiery, and still, it told him everything he needed to know.

“That’s all? Better?” he looked at you once more, running his mental checklist.

Eyes were good, skin not too flushed, she can kiss normally, and speak. Not dehydrated or pale.

“Much better.”

The transparency in your speech set in stone what he had thought of.

The words that so easily came out of him, his mannerisms and gestures had sent you haywire, quivering with vibrant intensity, the bliss forcing its way out of your pores, steaming from your skin.

“Good job.” he coaxed, mentally patting himself on the back with a smirk as you fell back down onto the cloudy mattress with a dreamy sigh, a hazy look fixated on him.

Drunk on pleasure, he thought, snickering.

“I bet you feel so dirty, don’t you?” Mat said, his chest heaving with warm sweat dripping from his stubble down onto his pecs. Vulnerability surrounded you both, your eyes running upon each other’s bodies. Taking this moment to pause made sure you were attending to each other fully and completely, the desire still consuming you thoroughly. In the quietness, Mat took his fingers and began running them down your abdomen, barely grazing your clammy skin. 

“I asked you a question, doll.” he said, moving his touch again up your centerline. You could only nod, his fingertips electrifying you with eternal bliss as they found their resting place on your plump lips. 

“Are you having trouble with your words?” he said, breathlessly mocking you before you stuck your tongue out, soaking his digits by letting them sit on you. 

After all, Mat didn’t think he could break any further. 

Until then. 

Seeing you embrace the feeling gave him the reassurance that he was subconsciously looking for.

He was incredulous at your actions, sticking your tongue out fully, with no shame or guilt, and only for him. 

Letting your spit absorb into his calloused skin, while more saliva pooled visibly at the back of your throat. 

Disgustingly.

And it made his throbbing cock twitch, heedlessly slapping against your cunt in a wet motion. 

“Fuck, angel.”

He pushed it further by entering your mouth and your pussy simultaneously, a choked moan surrounding his hand as your eyes flew back.

“That’s my fucking girl.” he said, his eyebrows furrowed as he wasted no time in his fucking, militantly filling you fully again. “Doesn’t it make you feel so good, baby?”

“It does.” you moaned, obediently answering his every question and request.

“Doesn’t it feel so fucking good to be so dirty for me?” he asked, flush taking over him again. 

It was so delightful to see him let go, fully, just as he thought the same about you. 

“So nasty, such a sick little girl.” he continued. “Turn around, come here.” 

Mat sat back on his heels, guiding you to sit on his cock. 

The will was stronger than logic, your thighs quivering as you sunk down on him. 

Mat always hit deeper at this angle, his cock bulging out on your lower tummy as your ass came flush with him.

“You’re so bad, so fucking bad. And look at you, you don’t even care.” he said, moving your hair to the side as his lips grazed against the shell of your ear.

“What would everyone say if they saw you acting like this, huh? Begging to take me after I’m so mean to you. After I slap you, choke you, and spit on you. After I say the most degrading fucking shit to you, you don’t care. It makes your panties drenched, doesn’t it?”

Mat’s hands ran up past your tummy and found a tight hold on your tits, variating between letting them bounce in his palm and gripping them so desperately that it left marks on you. Your chests moved in synch, up and down with your motions; you let your head fall back on his shoulder as you unavailingly rebounded briskly, tightening just at the perfect moment, when your opening came in touch with the delicious curve between his pelvis and the base of his cock. 

“Just as I fucking thought, you can’t even hold back.” he said, grinding ever so slightly against you. The recognizable feeling started to take over you for the millionth time, candied moans causing Mat to jolt against you unexpectedly and thrust deeper.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” he asked, slapping one of your breasts. “Your body gives you away so easily, angel face.”

He was solid under you, your loving foundation as more juices ran out of you, covering his thighs in sticky squirt, your whole being quivering in delight with his arms instinctively holding you through it. 

“That’s because you’re mine, yeah?” 

Your eyes, stuck on the ceiling, recognized just how close his face was to yours, gaze fixated on your expression as it furrowed and sweated the incessant orgasm. 

“Yeah, I don’t even have to fucking ask.” 

Mat kept talking, kept grinding, as his hands got more desperate, undecided between all the layers of skin and flesh. The more he focused on you, the more he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer, and as much as he felt that most of the night, he knew that the simple intemperance that had built inside him was about to burst. 

“Look at you. You need more? You always fucking do.” he coaxed, settling his left hand on your throat as your whole body kept aching, spasming sweetly on top of him. 

Totally uncontrolled. 

Unaware of what liquids were leaving you and what noises you were making. 

Your brain only handling and pining for pleasure. 

More and more. 

“It’s never fucking enough for you, is it? You love it when I cross the line with you, you needy, needy girl.” he said, his grip on your throat tightening slightly enough to make your dotted vision fill with sparkles. 

Your head snapped up as your abdomen contracted, almost painfully sore, finally letting you breathe deeply as your body gave you a second to recuperate. 

Tears involuntarily left the corners of your eyes, perhaps from the delectation of it all, the intensity, the overwhelm, or the tiredness. 

“It feels so, so good. You make me feel so good.” you managed to find the strength to whisper against Mat’s lips before letting yours fall on top of his in a loving kiss. 

“Oh, god, you’re going to make me cum, baby.” 

Mat’s voice quivered, as he stared into you; he had never breathed deeper and yet hyperventilated at the same time, just as he'd never felt so much rage and frustration mixed with pleasure all at once. 

“Like that, like that, like that.” he said, through gritted teeth. “Fucking look at me.” 

He grabbed your chin roughly, your face pouting under his touch in the cutest way, he thought. “Like that, baby, fuck.”

Mat exclaimed loudly as he colvulsed forward, his cum filling your tight hole with a growl so deep that you felt yourself vibrate at the power in his voice. You sloppily kept jumping on his dick, every single muscle of his being flexing in concentration and gratification as his warm seed seeped inside you and overflowed, running down his hips before he had the chance to pull out. 

“Oh, fuck, baby.” he moaned, breathlessly. You finally fell, completely limp, into the puddle that he made you in since the beginning. 

“That’s okay, that’s okay, fall into my arms.” Mat reassured, still firing under you. “You did so good. You were so, so good, angel.”

Mat had enough of a size advantage on you to manhandle you, this time turning you both onto your sides after a couple of quiet moments, keeping his cock warm still inside your folds. 

“I love you, I love you, baby. So much. Thank you, thank you. Come here.” he whispered against you, running his hand through your locks as he pulled you closer to him by your waist. 

“Are you good, baby?” he said, watching you nod with a sweet smile on your face. “Why are you crying?”

“It just felt so good, babe.” you reassured him, turning slightly to play with his shining chain that sat damply on his collarbones. 

“I would never hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.” he whispered into your cheek in between kisses. “I got you always, babe. Nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I know, baby, I love you.” you said, your eyes into his. “Are you okay, Mat?”

“Oh, baby, yes, yes I’m okay don’t worry. Was I too rough? Too mean? You can tell me, love.”

“No, no, it was perfect.” you repeated. You’d say it as many times as it was needed. 

“Good. You were perfect.” he said. 

You didn’t know, but he thought the same. Reassurance had no limit for him.  

“I see you, I see you fully and I love you, I love everything about you.”

“I love you more, Mat.” you said in between kisses. “Do you feel better now?”

“Oh, baby. So much fucking better.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal rpf #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #ny islanders #smut #nhl #nhl rpf #hockey #nhl fic #nhl smut #hockey smut #kikiwrites

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Valentine's with Bouncer!Eddie

I did not have time to write a full fic for our favourite Bouncer x Bartender lovers, so please accept these general thoughts and vibes instead ❤️ 

Let’s kick this off with the fact that Bouncer!Eddie is an absolute simp lover boy. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, this man is spoiling you and being a sweetheart. He worships the ground you walk on.

He is waking you up on Valentine’s with his guitar on and nothing else - think the ‘I love you, bitch. I ain't ever gon’stop loving you, bitch’ video except he refuses to ever call you a bitch even affectionately but you get ✨the vibe✨

He just wants to make you laugh and he succeeds

Sings something silly like L-O-V-E, but with the lyrics changed to suit you / be way too sexual

Rose between his teeth? Check. Nicks his lip on an untrimmed thorn? You bet. (He’s fine, you kiss it better)

He has you for breakfast, making home between your legs until you have to push his head away and beg him to rail you 

Ever obliging, your wish is granted. Twice. 

You cuddle and talk about everything and nothing until you can both walk on your jelly legs to the shower

It’s a while before you make it out of the apartment for breakfast at the diner he brought you to before you actually realised you were down bad for each other 

He bought you a little locket in the shape of a heart and got your initials together engraved inside

Gets a love boner when he puts it on you

You’re both working Valentines (sigh) but the bar is decked out in pink and red streamers and your specials board of cocktails has a few Eddie-approved holiday specials 

He insists you mark him up before work - rosy pink and fiery red and deep purple lipstick marks all over his face and neck and down his chest (around his dick too, but that was your idea) so he fits the theme of the bar 

When you tell him you’re wearing a surprise for him under your work clothes, he’s sporting a semi all night and Michelle has to keep shooing him away from the bar when he comes to beg for a kiss

Literally cannot stop looking at you from the door, he is such a simp for you and you look like a sexy angel behind the bar he wants to elope right now 

You make out in the back alley like two horny high schoolers on your break, for old time's sake 

He’s taking you away for the weekend btw - pack your bag, babe, he’s sorted cover for your shifts at work and everything! 

When you get home you’re both tired but can’t get enough of each other and have really slow sweet sex until the sky gets light again

He’s the happiest man alive when you fall asleep listening to his heartbeat and whispers that he loves you even though you’re fast asleep and maybe you haven’t said it yet but he means it and he will be brave enough to say it for real soon

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson thoughts #bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #happy hours #bangaveragefics #eddie stranger things

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hi I have been reading all your works and I'be got to say that its really good I mean like wow anyways I would like to request a platonic y'know fix with the oldies of lookism I mean Charles and tom Lee meeting up and Charles bragging about his child (the reader) there new awards , involvement in the business or you can do the geniuses instead of the reader being a genius she's named as the prodigy and is literally so smart like 400 IQ type shit and she literally saves the company's reputation, every genius admits shes smart and kinda like a learning genius where she doesnt have to copy it but masters whatever she wants to learn isnt a copy genius btw but can you like make the personality of the reader a bit like James like reserved nonchalant etc anyways thank you

Hello and thank you for liking my work, it really does mean a lot to have your support❤️

THE PRODIGY

"Long time no see Choi'' spoke a hulking and imposing man that stood tall and towered over the frame of the CEO of the HNH group as Charles glanced up from his newspaper to see none other than Tom Lee, the owner of the White Tiger Job Centre (Baekho HRM), known for being the best in the business to get rid of people in a sneaky and quick manner. "Oh please, you act like we haven't seen each other in years when we just met 2 months ago'' scoffed Charles slightly but a small amused smirk formed on his face. "You look happy...whose life did you screw over, you old crone?" chuckled Tom as he took out his grey bottle from his trench coat pocket and gulped a large sip of his alcohol from it. "Oh come now, you act like I'm a criminal or something...but I didn't screw anyone over yet...for now'' said Charles as he headed over to the table nearby and shuffled a few papers till a picture of you fell out from the stack of papers as Tom's interest piqued up and peered at your picture in an interested manner

"I didn't know you started hiring girls to do your dirty work Choi...props to you for following gender equality and such'' grinned Tom as he stared at the picture. "Ah, that's my newest recruit. One of the prized gems I've had the fortune of stumbling upon. Her name is Y/N L/N'' spoke Charles proudly as the lines around his eyes crinkled slightly out of pride for you. "This is the first time I've ever heard you praise someone other than those brats Gun and Goo...I wonder what makes this one here so special that has you singing her praises'' questioned Tom as he raised a brow in curiosity, awaiting for Charles' explanation. "In a way, she's kind of like James Lee...an exceptionally skilled and talented fighter, I daresay even stronger than Gun and Goo... she has training of the Indian martial arts called Kallaripayyatu along with Krav Maga which makes quite the deadly combination when used in combat. The advantage of her using her skills is that no one can predict what she might do next. She's even more unpredictable than Goo and James because if someone faces them a couple of times they'd be able to read their attack patterns with ease. But it's different for Y/N, you'll never know when she'll whip out a chain or a knife or just fight with her bare hands... that's what makes her quite the enigmatic fighter, she isn't afraid to fight dirty as well''

"She sounds like quite the catch then...'' muttered Tom as he continued to drink his drink and stared at your picture. "She's even won an award for her literary works as a writer, the Lindenberg award and is quite the over achiever if I must admit...a real prodigy of a girl. My daughter took an instant liking to her as do I. She simply cannot stop singing her praises'' replied Charles as Tom had an amused smirk on his face. "Neither can you and the amount of stalking you do makes me look sane'' answered Tom with a cackle. Charles smirked as he replied "That was mere research...her personality is a literal carbon copy of James, completely reserved and shy and nonchalant'' "Ah, so you're dealing with a touch me not of an introvert then eh, good luck getting that one to open up to you'' said Tom as he snickered and gulped down the last sip of his drink before he stuffed his bottle back into his pocket and glanced at Charles

"Doesn't matter though, I'll have to make her open up...what she's achieved to do for my company was more than what any of the Worker's affiliates could do, they're all mere useless inexperienced children in front of her...'' scoffed Charles as he hummed slightly and his gaze left your photo to focus on the view of the night city before him, several feet below him, taking pride in the fact that he'd gotten to a point where people had to look up to HIM. "You better be careful though...a little birdie told me that Steve Hong was looking forward to meeting with Y/N L/N'' said Tom with a slight grin as Charles' posture stiffened and his jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked in a soft voice, his tone laced with malice and hidden fury. 'That old bastard...if he ever thinks he can have Y/N and steal MY prodigy from me, he's got another thing coming...he can't have her..no...I'll make sure of it...' Charles thought to himself as Tom smirked, looking like he'd just read Charle's thoughts. "You look awfully nervous of losing your beloved little prodigy...wouldn't it be a shame if someone were to snatch her up like the little feather that she is for someone else to use?" asked Tom, his cheshire cat like grin evident on his face and his eyes glinted with malicious amusement, enjoying the sight of Charles Choi on the verge of losing his cool and his patience on the line

"Let me enlighten you with a little story...a while ago Eugene tried to recruit Y/N to join the Workers and he somehow thought he could keep it quiet from me but failed. Why else do you think I decided to meet with Jake Kim, the son of Gapryong Kim that night? We both know it wasn't out of sheer pity...Y/N is my ticket to destroy the crews and the Workers and expand my empire'' said Charles as he continued to stare at the city beneath him, just how he liked it, everyone underneath him, serving him. "I sometimes forget you're more unhinged and ruthless than me...I can't say if I'm shocked or proud'' spoke Tom as he trailed off and looked like he was pondering about something. "This is coming from someone who strips his clothes off and challenges his employees to a fight to the death. It's a miracle your so called employees lasted for so long'' replied Charles as he smirked at Tom. "Touche old Choi'' grinned Tom

"I'm planning to make sure she stays close to us...to me...at my residence. Of course, I shall fund for her schooling and such'' said Charles after a few moments of silence. "Doesn't she have parents?'' asked Tom with a quirked brow as his amused smirk grew even wider. It was such a sight to see someone like him be so obsessed about someone like you, and rightfully so, Tom could understand his friend's obsession with you. You were a natural gifted fighter, the sort of fighter people would literally KILL and spill blood to have on their side. "Do you think that concerns me? Her father is a software engineer and her mother is a stay at home housewife...hardly what I call a challenge. Her potential will be wasted if she continues to live with them. I've tried to convince them before to send her to me and they had the guts to refuse me even after offering them a fortune...I am Elite...if it means I have to get rid of her parents and have their blood spilled then so be it. It will also prove as a warning for anyone foolish enough to attempt to lure her to them. Besides, I've already spilled blood before, it's nothing new. What's a bit more going to do?'' answered Charles, his eyes glinting with malice as his smirk widened. Tom was now convinced you really were the prodigy he'd heard so much about from the people around who kept on yapping about you. He was just glad he managed to wring out the information from Charles which saved him tons of amount of research as he mentally decided to pay you a visit some day...even if it meant dealing with Choi's wrath which he could always deal with later. The main goal on Tom's mind now was how to get you on HIS side...

#yandere charles choi #platonic yandere charles choi x reader #platonic yandere charles choi scenarios #platonic yandere charles choi imagines #platonic yandere charles choi oneshots #platonic yandere charles choi headcanons #yandere charles choi scenarios #yandere charles choi headcanons #yandere lookism #yandere lookism characters #yandere lookism characters x reader #yandere lookism x reader #dark lookism characters x reader #dark lookism characters #dark lookism x reader #dark lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism

[ssickabit]

not so soundproof, we guess — b.c

warning : sexual content, sex without protection (don’t do it at home guys), penetrative sex, lots of dirty talk

“C’mon why are you trying to silence me?”

She asked and Bangchan noticed she is very much out of breath just like him. His hand gripping on her hips once again after exploring her entire torso just like that. He licked his bottom lip before inhaling hard and letting out some shaky, breathy laugh. “Isn’t this studio soundproof?”

“Oh you wanna talk back?” Chan lifted both of his eyebrows as he tapped the tip of his cock on her clit.

“Of course,” she whined. “stop being a dick and fuck me already.”

“Not so easy.”

“Chan—fuck,” she hissed as he decided to keep that movement going, building more friction on both of their spine, causing her back to arch. His hand keeps her body in the first place as he tries to shut her down. A small whine passed her lips again and Bangchan cannot lie that he was thrilled a lot, because looking at the view underneath him—you wouldn’t believe what it was. Her spreading her legs laying on his studio desk hoping no one will open the door and see him fucking her hard. Her hair was a mess, so was his. Now his hand supporting his whole body as he starts to thrust his cock inside her again. He stretched her so good, got both of them let out some shaky breath together.

An usual studio visit turned into something today. Innocent kisses turned into him kissing her hard and her grinding against his crotch. Of course it would be more than cockwarming him—she was so wet and he couldn’t even wait to feel that throbbing walls all around his cock.

“Mmhm, fuck, go faster—“

“Shh, shh. I got this okay?” He talks between the thrust, “you should shut the fuck up before I leave you hanging.”

“You’re so mean.”

“You love it.”

Chan let out nearly an inaudible moan as he keep his steady pace all over again. She bit on her bottom lip trying to suppress her moan. Those moan of Chan is incredible and by the time pass by he doesn’t hesitate to let it out. “Oh fuck, such a good little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, your good slut,” she answered. “Oh-“

Now both of his hand gripping her hips again, trying to get his pace faster. A silent cry can be heard by Bangchan and it’s from her. He keeps his pace going, hitting all of the spots that making her mouth open. Bangchan can’t keep his noises to himself too, so he decided to lay his palm flat on her lower stomach.

“T-too much—“

“You’re literally fuck-“ thrust, “begging me to fuck you.”

“Please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“Can I cum?”

“After being all naughty like that?” He chuckled. Oh, she’s fucked for now. He is trying so hard to not get blown in his place by now, “fucking bitch. All that she knows are getting fucked nasty on my studio desk.”

The pleasure was all over the place so she bites down on her palm. All of these stimulations was too much for both of them but she feels like she handle it anymore. Her teary eyes, her neck full of hickeys, and her fucked out face. “Close, baby—“

“Cum in me, please.”

“N-not now, yeah?-“

“Please, I have been a good girl, I deserve it-“

Shit. Bangchan feels like his world is just him and her. It made his head dizzy as the tight knot on his lower stomach is begging to get released. She can hear how much of him wanting to feel it too—his breathing ragged and he murmured a lot of things she can’t understand. “I feel good don’t I, daddy? Why don’t you—fuck—fill me up? Hm?”

“Yeah? Is that what you want baby?”

“Y-yes!”

“Good girl, fuck, I’m cumming—“ his pace is uncontrollable, he can feel her clenching hard on his cock and after one final thrust, he’s cumming inside of her. A hiss passed his lips after he pulled his cock out, his cum drips out of her hole prettily. He looked up to her who’s closing her eyes and putting the back of her hand on the top of her mouth. His hand began to stroke her hand with shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

As she opened her eyes, she can see that loving gaze looking at her again. “M’good.”

He kissed her forehead as his other hand caressing her hip softly. “Good girl,” his lips was inches from hers, “you did a great job. Thank you.”

She smiled and cupped his face. She brought his lips on hers, kissing it gently. He kissed her back like him wanting to taste her again after all of this time. He let her calm down by whispering sweet nothings and caressing her skin gently. He bump the tip of his nose on hers, making her giggle.

“We should clean all of this mess, yeah?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #bang chan smut #bangchan smut