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#the loneliness i have created for myself

thalassicbeast · 2 years

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(Ppssst low object constancy can also be an autism thingy) 😀

i had a hunch, yeah, and your ask lead to me doing some quick research on trauma and autism (since it appears in both, and i was thinking "well a lot of autistic people are also just traumatized") and i just saw this:

and i don't mean to antagonize allistic people with ptsd being like "why do you get so much attention 😤", yet i don't feel like i've seen this discussed often. whether it's with personality disorders, trauma, dissociation, there isn't enough discussion on how it might appear in variable forms, especially in autistic individuals. and it makes me wonder if i'm missing out on support or information because i'm experiencing trauma, a PD, or dissociation in a lesser-known way. i feel like it's because mental health awareness in general is kept on the down-low because it's uncomfortable but it's genuinely concerning to me that an already hush-hush topic has even less to be heard on autistic people's experiences

anyways nothing on the post i was tagging or you i just literally saw this and was like "oh yea wtf wait i need to talk about this"

#autism #ptsd #literally the other day i saw an autistic person with did on tiktok who explained that abuse directed at their autism created that trauma #and i was like oh my god that's a reason to have did or osdd? like i never feel like the autistic experience is bad enough to cause shit #ill have isolated myself for years on end paranoid to go outside and be like yeah idk im a little traumatized i guess #people will ostracize you until you're afraid to make friends unless they're adults who call you mature and you're like yes i am normal #using the internet probably as an escape from loneliness as a literal >9 yo child and seeing horrific graphic things #and i think. as an autistic person i have a blunted reaction to things that isnt helped by dissociation. so how can i say soemthings severe #like i feel like one of the most traumatic events of my life happened a few weeks ago and while i can see how anxiety and stuff manifests #i feel pretty disconnected in more than a few ways ANYWAYS whatever sorry havent talked to a therapist in a bit :D #trauma dump #vent in tags

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astrosky33 · 4 months

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PERSONAL YEARS IN NUMEROLOGY - P2

This post is very honest. It’s not meant to fear monger just what I’ve witnessed in other people's lives and what I’ve experienced myself as well

If you don’t already know how to find personal years in numerology click here

tw: substance abuse

Personal Year Numbers

❍ . ┊PY1: These are years full of lots of new beginnings and great years to be a leader. These are good years to spend time with your father/fatherly figure (if you have one). At worst you will experience lots of conflicts and arguments these years or problems with aggression

❍ . ┊PY2: These will be years full of peace (of course I personally believe astrology supersedes numerology so if your astrology (Solar return, transits, etc.) isn’t great that year it may not be. You may feel more sensitive during these years than others. These are good years for relationships, writing, being your in your divine feminine energy, spending time with your mother/motherly figure (if you have one), and/or bringing more balance/harmony into your life

❍ . ┊PY3: These will be lucky years for you (depending on the astrology - solar return chart, transits, etc.) and also good years to express yourself through your passions or hobbies. You’ll have lots of laughs during these years with your friends/lovers. These are good years involving communication as well, so it can be beneficial also if you are trying to be a mouth-piece for something. You will feel more of your child-like energy come out during these years and more creative as well. At worst there could be lots of drama/gossip in your life during these years

❍ . ┊PY4: These are the best years to put in work, have lots of self discipline, and create a routine. When doing this you can earn lots of money. Your values in life will become more clear to your during these years. At worst you could get in trouble with the law or fall victim to drug abuse

❍ . ┊PY5: These years will be full of new exciting events and change. These are great years for traveling, having children, having good sex, embracing your sexuality, becoming healthier, having a glow up or doing things involving beauty (ex: modeling), and being involved in the entertainment industry (ex: acting, performing, etc.)

❍ . ┊PY6: These years are great for spending time with your family, making friends/spending time with your friends, being your most responsible self, becoming more organized/put together, and showing people you care about them. At worst conflict could occur involving the government or lots of time could be wasted

❍ . ┊PY7: These are great years for learning new things, teach others, or open your own food/beverage place. You may keep to yourself more during these years. At worst you could get cheated on, have a rough time in your love life during these years, gamble too much (in any way not just with money), get injured, have challenges involving health/money, or feel lots of loneliness. Try not to do any type of dangerous activities or start a new relationship/get married during these years or it can lead to challenges down the road

❍ . ┊PY8: These are the second best years to make money. They’re also great years to work hard, become more grounded, and be logical. You can gain lots of power during these years. At worst you could create negative karma for yourself or use your power for bad things. Try not to hurt others, steer clear of drama/conflict, and do good for others during these years so you can create positive karma for yourself instead

❍ . ┊PY9: These are the best years to gain spiritual knowledge and knowledge in general as well as become the highest vibrational version of yourself if navigated correctly. These can either be the worst or best years of your life (no in between) depending on how you choose to navigate it. These are great years for crypto. Lots of things in your life may come to an end this year and you may have to experience the challenges of letting go and adapting to new environments or things. Keep yourself at a high vibration during these years and try to be a good person

Master & Special Numbers

❍ . ┊PY11: You will be able to find lots of inspiration during these years and find ways to strongly express yourself through emotional outlets. These are the best years to gain social media fame in. You can meet your soulmates during these years or have lots of success in your love life. These may be very emotional years at worst

❍ . ┊PY22: You will gain lots of wisdom during these years and learn to let go of bad habits or bad people in your life. These years are also great years to build in any form (ex: body building, building houses, building a relationship to be stronger, etc.). At worst there could be lots of destruction in your life during these years but luckily it will lead to renewal by the next year

❍ . ┊PY33: These years are great for making an influence on others or teaching others. These are high vibrational years. At worst you will learn challenging lessons about your ego or have a challenging ego death

❍ . ┊PY13: These years can be great for manifesting. At worst you’ll experience lots of anxiety during these years

❍ . ┊PY17: These are the best years for you to gain fame out of all the numbers (17 represents fame in numerology)

❍ . ┊PY19: I do not mean to fear monger with this I only intend to have full honesty, but I will say every time that I’ve had this it’s been a really challenging year for either my life in general or my health. Make sure to eat really healthy, exercise, and be kind to people during these years so you can maintain good health and not create more negative karma for yourself (19 is the number of bad health and negative karma)

❍ . ┊PY28: These are the best years for you to gain wealth or make money quickly. Money will come to you whenever you need it most during these years

MASTERLIST - SUB TO MY PATREON - NUMEROLOGY

#personal years #numerology personal year number #numerology #numerology personal year #personal year number #personal year #numerology community

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mayhemspreadingguy · 1 year

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Alright, for those who want to hear more about this, I'm gonna explain what I had in mind while drawing this dreamling in the fishbowl AU :).

It's 1989, the day Hob and Dream are supposed to meet each other. Dream doesn't make it, so Hob returns home, shattered and drunken he passes out on a couch while thinking about his Stranger. Meanwhile, Dream is aware of the passage of time and grieves over not being able to meet Hob Gadling in the White Horse. He lies on the harsh cold glass of his cage and daydreams about freedom, Hob's endless hope and will to live on, Hob's warm smiles, and bemoans the unfortunate end of their last meeting. As Hob sleeps something is pulling him toward a familiar presence, curious and hopeful his sleeping mind follows the pull. Dream senses a sliver of brightness and specks of hope right behind the reach of his confined self. He turns his mind towards the bright light, gazes at a vibrant sunflower, and reaches for its warm embrace. As both Hob's subconscious mind reaches for Dream and Dream unwittingly reaches for Hob, Hob is being pulled into the universe created by Dream's self inside the confines of the cage. That's how Hob finds himself kneeling in a glass sphere with his bewildered Stranger. Hob is delighted that he found his Stranger and horrified as he grasps the situation. They both seek forgiveness, Hob attempts to comfort Dream and tries to keep his rage on Dream's behalf under control. Dream allows himself to be embraced and soothed by Hob but quickly regrets it as he knows that he can't keep Hob beside him infinitely. He manages to muster the resolve to cut the connection between himself and Hob's mind. He struggles through the words that are meant to send Hob back into his sleeping body, yet his voice breaks on Hob's name as his grief and unwillingness to fall back into the cold loneliness seeps through. And the last thing he sees, before his world dims again, is Hob's shocked face as he's abruptly and forcibly torn from Dream... Hob wakes up with a start. Alone on a couch. Still trying to reach for his Stranger. It took long minutes to calm his racing heart and sort through his scattered thoughts and hazy memories. However, not long after, he sprang into motion, he had a rescue to plan after all.

oh my, this was something. I've probably spent way more time on this than I should have, but I've had a blast. exhausting? yes. fun? totally! And yeah, I've decided to repeat myself and chose a sunflower to symbolize Hob (for those that haven't seen my previous post - sunflower symbolizes devotion, optimism, adoration, etc).

and I apologize for my English - not my first language. aand I'm bad at putting ideas into words in general ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#mayhem art #dreamling #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #robert gadling #the sandman #the sandman netflix #hob x dream #dream x hob #centennial husbands #fanart #illustration

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animehideout · 3 months

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Hello!! can you do a gojo x reader and like gojo is always on a lot of trips to kill curses and stuff and everytime he comes back home all he wants to do is just sleep with you and it starts making you think he only wants you for your body but she just keeps that thought to herself cuz she thought if she tells gojo he might end their relationship untill something happens and she finally breaks down leaving gojo to comfort her

Please and thank you!

My One And Only

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader ( Reader thinks Gojo is using her for her body )

a/n: thank you anon for this request, I really hope you enjoy this one. And remember guys, don't bottle up your feelings, talk it out , communication is the key <33 love y'all and stay safe.

Warnings 🔞: SMUT NSFW MDNI / NOT PROOFREAD.

Song recommendation: I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young 🎶

♪I never meant to start a fire, I never meant to make you bleed.. I'll be a better man today♪

You sat on your bed, clutching your phone tightly after reading a message from your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru: { Get ready for me, princess. I can't wait till I get home and have you all to myself, all night }.

The words, the familiar message, never seemed to change. While you longed for a more thoughtful, romantic message, disappointment crept in every time you unlocked your phone. You understand his busy schedule and duty as the strongest sorcerer, exorcising curses and protecting others, but what about your feelings? Who protects them?

He's often away on trips, since the higher-ups depend on him for everything. You've always taken pride in his skills and capabilities, that earned the trust of others, making the world feel safer with his presence. But, your bed remains cold, your house feels empty, and he's not physically present when you're sad, need to vent, or simply want to share a laugh. The persistent feeling of loneliness creeps in, filling your mind with unwanted thoughts. Each night concludes with a heavy sigh, as you find solace in cuddling your pillow, questioning the nature of your relationship with him.

You meet once a week, you'd eagerly set the scene for cozy moments ; snuggling, watching a movie, going on a date, or simply chilling and talking. Yet, it always veers into having sex. You love him and want him as much as he wants you but you can't help the disappointment you've felt

“Is he using me?”,

the same thought echoes in your mind week after week. You wanted to communicate your feelings, but the words linger unspoken at the tip of your tongue, always swallowed back, completely offering yourself to him.

Night fell swiftly, the clock ticked so fast, and there you were sat on your bed, half naked, waiting like he told you. You could have refused, but you simply didn't. you missed him and craved the way he touches you, the way he makes you scream his name, the way your eyes tear up from how good and deep he's pounding inside you. The way air gets stuck in your throat when his big veiny hands circle around your delicate neck. You wanted every bit of it, there's no denying in that.

The front door swung open and closed, signaling Satoru's arrival. Your heart quickened, anticipation the long night that waited ahead

“Hey, baby..” he began,

placing his keys on the nightstand and giving you a peck. You managed a weak smile.

“Did you miss me?” he added, stripping himself. “Come on, join me for a shower and help me wash up”.

He gently pulled you towards the bathroom.Your back was pressed to his chest, as he left a trail of kisses on your shoulders and the back of your neck. The warm water relaxing each tensed muscle. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation. The steam raising from the shower, created a gentle fog turning the bathroom into a cozy space. Too emersed into the cute moments of peace,

“Maybe tonight will be different, maybe he'll stay and won't leave after sex like he always does, saying that he needs to be at work again” you thought to yourself,

hoping that this night, he proves all what you've been overthinking for the last weeks in wrong, but shorty you were pressed against the bathroom wall, warm water still running. A surprised gasp left your mouth at the sudden movement. The cold wall that Gojo pinned you against sent shivers down your spine.

“I can't wait any longer” he whispered to your ear. He turned you and now you're chest hitting the wall, “bend over a bit for me, babygirl” he demanded, growing impatient by each passing second.

A groan escaped his mouth when your tighteness welcomed his hardened cock. A soft moan, slipped from your parted lips as he started moving. The rhythmic sound of water droplets echoed and mixed with the wet clapping sounds, and your moans. Your eyes rolled back, too needy for him as he fucked that spot again and again,

“I fucking love fucking you, I love fucking your body, this pussy is all what I can think about” he said panting.

Little did he know that what he said but turn you off so quickly. Your body, is it all what he wants? he didn't even say 'I love you', his sweet talk was all about what satisfied him, but enough,

“Can you stop please” you said out of the blue, making him look in confusion but kept on going,

“already tired? I've planned a long night for us..but if you want me to stop use your safe word” he chuckled.

“I SAID STOP” you snapped.

Under different circumstances, you'd find joy in his words. However, with all those unspoken emotions weighing on you, hearing him say something like that became your breaking point. He stood still, a hint of concern in his voice as he asked,

“D-did I do something wrong?” His hands rested on your hips from behind.

In that quiet moment, only the sound of the water stream filled the air before you spoke again,

“I don't want to continue, pull it out”.

“Hah is this some kind of joke? why on earth would I stop?”

“Because I don't want to”

“Dont lie to me Y/n, I know you want it, I won't pull out”

“Satoru...please” you said as you moved his hands from your hips.

His brows furrowed as he distanced himself from your body, pulling his length out of you, giving you what you requested. You cleaned yourself and then stepped out of the shower wrapped in your towel, while he observed silently.

Seated on the edge of your bed, you waited for him to join you.He carefully settled beside you, his gaze unwavering on your form.

“So, are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Without meeting his eyes, you murmured, “Do you even love me, Satoru?” Your gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“What kind of question is this?”

“Just fucking answer it” you spat out in a harsh tone, catching him off guard.

“I do, of course I love you”

“Haha, funny. Why'd you lie? You just love my body, Satoru, don't you?”

“I love you and I love your body. Can you please explain it to me clearly? Cuz I failed to get your point”

“Oh is that so? okay then I'll explain to you, I'll explain to you how I've been feeling for weeks now, how I'm always left alone, how you always show up once a week, have sex with me and then leave as if I'm your fuck toy, I'll explain how you don't even care, cuz you only care about how to pleasure yourself... I'M NOT YOUR SLUT GOJO SATORU”You yelled.

Caught off guard by you, his blue eyes widened mirroring the disbelief that etched across his face. Your words hung in the air, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“A-are you serious?”

“YES I'M FUCKING SERIOUS, IF YOUR FEELINGS TOWARDS ME FADED THEN JUST SAY IT SATORU, BUT DON'T YOU DARE TO FUCK ME EVER AGAIN”

You broke down into tears, hugging your knees, wet hair falling on your face, chest still heavy even though you let out all of your concerns.

“No, no, don't cry, Y/n. Baby, look at me, please” he said softly, a hint of panic in his deep voice.

His fingers gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. Kissing away your tears, he whispered,

“Don't ever think like this again. I love you, Y/n I always have and always will, and nothing can change that”

“Then why'd you leave? It feels like you throw me away everytime after getting what you wanted from me” you expressed with a quiver in your voice.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared they might harm you, which is why I minimized our dates”

“Who might hurt me?”

“The sorcerers working against me and the special grade curses. I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to you”

“You know I'll be fine. You don't need to overthink it like that. It's not even my point yet—”

“I know, I know, thats it's always us having sex? thinking that I'm taking advantage of your body? Why didn't you tell me earlier baby? We could've talked it out, I could've explained, we could've done something else... It's just that's how I express love to you, through physical intimacy. I thought you liked it, I thought you were enjoying it. That's why I didn't stop. And I'm sorry about that..” he whispered, looking down, visibly disappointed in himself.

Your gaze lingered on him; you believed him, of course, you just needed that reassurance.

“I thought if I told you you'd break up with me and leave–”

His heart ached, how could you possibly think of that when he loved you with each fiber in his body.

“L-leave you? my life is meaningless without you Y/n how could I ever leave you” he explained pain visible in his tone.

You shrugged, sniffling, looking at him with your teary eyes..

“Come here” he signaled for you to move closer.

His large arms enveloped you in a bear hug as you sat on his lap.

“I love you for you, for your personality, your mind, your laugh, for the way you find beauty in everything. I never meant to disappoint you, and it will never happen again. Next time, if something bothers you, just talk it out and don't bottle it up. I want you to be comfortable all the time, okay?” he exclaimed, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded slowly, further burying your head in his bare chest, your warm breath tickling his skin.

“How about we cuddle and watch your favorite movie? I'll take a day off tomorrow so we can spend more time together, and you're right; I shouldn't be overthinking that much. From now on, not gonna minimize any date, instead, I'll work harder on keeping you safe all the time...You're my one and only Y/n!!” he said with a wide smile, lifting your spirits once again.

You spent the night in each other's arm, eating popcorn and pastries, laughing and joking around, till both of you fell asleep... You indeed helped him learn how to treat you better, helped him express his love in other ways, helped him to take into account your feelings. Communication is all what both of you needed from the very beginning.

Satoru made a promise to you and to himself, to devote his life, strength and efforts to you and your relationship.

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hxney-lemcn · 10 months

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Just Let Me Help — Eleventh Doctor x gn! reader

summary: Getting injured on a mission leads reader to question their relationship with the Doctor. He will do his most to help them, even if he'll get hurt in doing so.

tw: Hurt/comfort (lots of comfort), injury, blood (alien blood but still)

a/n: I love him sm and he needs someone who is also immortal 😭😭😭 Also, I need more alien reader with the doctor </3

wc: 1.7k

Master List

(This can be stand alone, but the first part can be read here)

“Are you two like…a thing?” Rory asked. I was surprised at how well Rory handled everything, and how he even seemed to start to warm up to the Doctor.

I looked up from watching the Doctor work underneath the console of the Tardis, “Who? The Doctor and I?”

“Well…yeah,” Rory replied back awkwardly.

“Oh, uh, no. Just old friends,” I shrugged, his awkwardness falling onto me.

I can’t lie, I had fallen for the Doctor ages ago. No matter how he looked, how he acted, he would always be my beloved Doctor. And he never failed to fall on my doorstop, no matter where I went. He was the cure to my loneliness, someone who’d always be there, even if he was out traveling through time and space. I left my planet for a reason, and the Doctor understood. We were both outcasts in our own sense, and we’ve created a bond because of it.

“Could you hand me the wrench, dear?” The Doctor spoke up, oblivious to the conversation but also not helping my point.

“Right,” Rory replied skeptical. I rolled my eyes while simultaneously leaning down and handing the Doctor his wrench.

“His new regeneration is just affectionate, okay?” I whispered, feeling like I had to defend myself.

“Thanks dear,” The Doctor thanked, squeezing my hand gently in thanks before letting go completely.

“I didn’t say anything,” Rory replied, hands held up in mock surrender. I could see the glint in his eyes still.

“Shut up,” I pouted slightly. The Doctor's childishness has seemed to rub off on me.

“What are you two babbling about?” Amy asked, coming into the console room.

“Speculating about relationships,” The Doctor chimed up. I didn’t even realize he was walking up the stairs. Even so, I couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked with his goggles sitting in his hair. I tensed, feeling flustered that he caught on, even though I didn’t say anything wrong, or to show my feelings, I still felt like I was caught in a lie.

“Speculating?” I asked. “I was clarifying.”

The Doctor paused midstep, raked his eyes over my figure, an emotion I couldn’t place held in his gaze. He continued to the console like nothing even happened and clapped his hands.

“Where to now?”

______

“What are you doing!” The Doctor shouted, rushing towards me.

I gritted my teeth in pain as the Mihrol bit into my arm. With my other three arms, I tried to pry its jaw open. Mihrol were violent creatures, aggressive. I didn’t blame it, it wasn’t conscious of its own actions, only acting on its instincts. But it was going to attack the Doctor, so I decided to step in the way.

In fact, I felt bad for the creature. Even with its teeth bared into my arm, its fate was set as soon as it ingested my blood. Perhaps…I shouldn’t have stepped in the way, as I was now a danger to anyone who tried to help. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper as the Mihrol’s body slumped, and its jaw weakened enough for me to pry it off. Glittery blue blood continued to seep from my arm as the others got to me.

“Stop!” I shouted as Rory tried to approach me.

“I’m a nurse!” He argued. “I can help.”

“No you can’t,” The Doctor said calmly, stepping in between his companions and I. “They’re a Zeknil. Blue blood littered with cleythil, a poison that can penetrate even the thickest of skin. It's why they’re blood glitters so brilliantly.”

I clutched my injured arm, stepping back, “I’ll need to take care of this on my own.” The Doctor stepped close to me and I glared at him, “That means no Doctor or nurse.”

“I can help you,” The Doctor whispered. “Its effects are severely diluted. There’s a reason why Zeknil’s and Gallifrey’s stuck together for all those years.”

“I won’t take that chance,” I shook my head. “Besides, you have a better chance of finding another Zeknil than finding the cure.”

I watched as frustration danced across his eyes the longer we argued, but I held my ground. I will not lose the one person that is supposed to be by my side forever. Not to anyone else, and definitely not because of my own choices.

“Go to the Tardis,” Doctor ordered Amy and Rory. “Tell her of the situation and she’ll lead you to a specific kit. Grab it and bring it to us.”

“You’re overreacting,” I grumbled. Ripping off a piece of my shirt and holding it to the wound to stop the bleeding. “It's gonna take a lot more to kill me than a bite.”

He stayed quiet, eyes trailing the path of my blood, up to my wound, then finally meeting my eyes. I felt my own heart break at the unshed tears he held. At that moment, I realized exactly what I meant to him. How I would’ve felt if he would’ve been hurt instead. The want to help the one you love, the need to not see them in pain.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling that familiar pressure before you cry.

“At least you would be able to tend to me,” He laughed dryly, a tear rolling down his eye. “I wouldn’t have minded that.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me, the other option having been to cry, “Of course that’s what you say now. If you got hurt you would’ve been whining at me the entire time. I had to save myself from that.”

He laughed with me. Finally the others came back and I opened up this special kit and my eyes widened when I realized it was a first aid kit from my planet. I stared up at the Doctor in shock, but quickly went to tend to my wounds. I quite like how the bandages from my planet would meld to the injury just how you needed it to. Much better than human ones. As soon as that was all fixed up, I cleaned the blood from me as best as I could.

“Back to the Tardis everyone!” The Doctor exclaimed cheerfully, but I could tell that he was hiding his true emotions. “Best we get situated.”

“Shouldn’t we go back-”

“No, no, the threat is gone, the village is safe,” He waved Amy off, eyes never leaving me as we walked back to the Tardis.

When we entered, I went straight to my room. I needed to decompress, think. Whether it was the loss of blood, or the hot weather of the planet we were just on, my head felt fuzzy, thoughts running rampant.

The shower seemed to help me focus a bit more. Although they were things I didn’t want to focus on. That moment…the look in his eyes…it was such a powerful emotion. Like how I felt for him. But he couldn’t love me, not like how I loved him. He’s had many human companions that he’s fallen for when the two of us knew each other. And Rose…their love was something that transcended time and space. I didn’t hold a candle to her…not that she doesn’t deserve to be special. She was an amazing human, one of the few companions of the Doctor’s I got to meet.

I shook my head, I need to rest. Turning off the shower, I got into something comfortable before laying down in the room he’s provided me. In the morning, I should regenerate all my blood and my wound should be nearly fully healed. Hence why my race is seen as immortal. Our cells regenerate so fast that we live for thousands of years.

______

The smell of freshly cooked food woke me up. It smelled like one of my favorite meals from my home planet. Opening my eyes, I looked toward the source to see the Doctor himself placing a tray of food on the nightstand.

“Hello,” I muttered, sitting up with a yawn.

“Oh!” He replied startled. “Hello, good morning, how do you do?” He rambled on a few more greetings before he stopped.

“Is this how you’re going to tend to me?” I asked without realizing until a few ticks later. It was too late now, I already said it…and I was a bit curious.

A soft look made its way onto his sharp features, “Of course, dear. Anything and everything you want, just name it.”

My heart stuttered and constricted at the same time. Little does he know that he’s all I want, and I’m sure it's the one thing he can’t give. I shook my head softly, teasing but also dismissing his admission. I went to grab the tray but he batted my hand, taking the tray himself and sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Now now,” He tutted. “I’m here to tend to you, open wide.”

“I’m not a child,” I huffed, lightly glaring at him.

Nudging my face with the fork filled with food, he pouted, “Just indulge me.”

We stared at each other for a few more seconds, but his puppy dog eyes won me over and I hesitantly opened my mouth. His smile brightened as he continued to feed me while talking about whatever came to mind. Things he’d think I’d like, planets we could visit, foods I had to try. For a second, it made me feel special. Not special as in one of the few Zeknil left. Not special as in the species that worked hand in hand with Gallifrey from the start. I felt special to him. A dangerous feeling indeed.

“Let me help you,” The Doctor requested as I lifted my injured arm.

“You know I can’t let you,” I sighed. “The bandage is bloodied and I won’t chance you getting fucking poisoned because of me.”

“Language,” He murmured half-heartedly which caused me to chuckle lightly.

I let out a sigh, “How about this. I take off the bandage, clean up any residue blood, and if I deem it safe enough I’ll let you do the rest. Deal?”

“Deal.”

I did my part, my guess last night being accurate. My wound was almost fully healed, I probably didn’t even need to replace the bandage, but I let the Doctor do what he felt he needed to. His touch was so gentle, making sure he didn’t harm me any more than I already was. Once again my heart stuttered as he laid a gentle kiss on top of the new bandage.

“There you go,” He muttered. “All better.” “Thank you, Doctor.” I emphasized his name. “You really do live up to your name.”

#11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11 doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #11 doctor #x reader

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drchucktingle · 1 year

Note

hello I hope this isn't annoying but I was thinking about your post about how harriet porber was written out of love for trans people instead of spite for transphobes and that is just... very important to me. I would have not batted an eye at you saying that the books were written out of spite, like, that is generally how people talk about stuff like this, and I am very used to it, and it's not bad exactly, but like, it's kind of soul-numbing. I firmly believe in the importance of centring love in things like this. it's one thing to know that people hate the people that hate the kind of person you are, but it's easy to slip underneath that into despair and loneliness and everything. it doesn't do much to really make me feel safe or good about anything. it's a lot more impactful to know that there are people that love the kind of person you are. and I have a tendency to think very rigidly, and so I was having a hard time thinking about myself in that way. and seeing someone say that they made art out of love instead of spite was very comforting. not sure where I am going with this, sorry.

thank you bud. i would like to go on record to say it is OK to make art out of spite and rage and envy and all of these other motivators they are all valid and i am not here to tell others their artistic motivations and their fuel is not important. we ALL have our own trot as we create on this timeline that is okay.

HOWEVER it is my advise and personal way to say that I CREATE WITH FUEL OF LOVE and i highly recommend this to others it is my number one advise when asked. love is most powerful force across any timeline. in all layers of reality it is only constant and i believe there is something to this. as artists and creators and SENTIENT BEINGS we exist in opposition to the endless cosmic void. just by taking a single breath we are crying out I AM HERE I EXIST IN DEFIANCE OF NOTHINGNESS.

creation and love are INTERWOVEN in such a powerful way that you might as well say they are the same thing. personally i BELIEVE they are the same thing and once you realize this it is hard to draw on any other artistic fuel.

YOU have the power of the dang big bang and infinite churning suns across infinite timelines sitting RIGHT THERE FOR YOU TO MOLD AND BEND AND USE AND CREATE so reach out and take it. paint a picture or write a poem thats ten thousand words or one word or no words at all. create a walk. create a sandwich for your dang kids before they trot off to school. create a sidewalk with one less piece of trash on it.

if you do this with love it will resonate in ways you cannot imagine

#love is real #art theory #chuck tingle #tingleverse #buckaroo lifestyle

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dyns33 · 2 months

Text

Firefly

I can't explain why but I like The Collector movies a lot, Asa Emory was a weird character, and so I needed to write something about him at least once

Y/N had met Asa Emory in college.

He already had this strange look and this fascination for insects, which explained his choice of studies. She had never met anyone who wanted to become an entomologist.

The other students were a little afraid of him, when they noticed him, because Asa was very discreet.

Y/N had noticed him, and she hadn’t been afraid of him. She had sat next to him in the library while he read a book about spiders. Her questions had initially seemed to irritate him, he was obviously not used to being spoken to, then he had been intrigued.

For a time, Asa had looked at her as if she were one of the insects he collected, but also as if she were trying to make fun of him. Yet he answered all her questions, adding more and more details and information.

He had no one in his life. No one to share your passion with. He didn't tell her all the details, but he had lost his parents and siblings when he was young.

This loneliness didn't seem to be a problem for him, but over time he got used to Y/N's presence, he looked forward to her questions, and he eventually grew attached.

“My firefly.” He greeted her as soon as he saw her, with a shy smile.

“Why a firefly ?” she asked, laughing softly.

“Because you are a light in my life.”

Y/N might have taken offense saying that a firefly was a tiny, fragile light that would die quickly, but knowing Asa's love of insects, she knew he wasn't going to compare her to a sun or stars. It was even a nice compliment on his part that he deigned to compare her to a Lampyris noctiluca.

Even when insulting people, he never used insect names. That would be an insult to the insects and he couldn't do that.

As with everything else in their relationship, it was Y/N who invited him on their first date. He accepted without seeming to understand what that meant.

The poor man seemed lost when she kissed him. But not necessarily disgusted.

“My firefly, you are the only human being who matters.” he admitted when she asked him if he ever thought about marriage, after more than two years together. "There are only a few insects that practice monogamy, but most die quickly, sometimes during the act of reproduction. But you know how much I hate anthropomorphism. I will be happy to spend my life with you."

Life with Asa was calm. Perfectly organized, structured, like its classification of all arthropod species.

After obtaining his diploma, he had no difficulty in being hired in the largest natural science museum in the city. His name quickly became known in his field.

His frequent nighttime outings and other prolonged outings could have been frightening for Y/N, but he always warned her in advance, preparing his schedule according to the pace of life of the insects he was looking for.

"Rumors are circulating about an unknown species of grasshoppers in a forest. I will probably be gone all weekend."

"Oh. You won't be here for my cousin's birthday ?"

"I forgot. Forgive me, my firefly."

“It doesn’t matter… It’s for your work, it’s important.”

He promised to better note the dates that were important to her, because even though he was very diligent in his work, Asa was a good husband. He didn't care at all about other humans, and therefore her family, but he always tried to please her when he could.

Even though he had a true admiration for spiders, Y/N saw him more as an ant. He worked hard, he never seemed tired, and he often brought home gifts to make up for when he missed an appointment, or simply because he wanted to see her smile.

"Ants don't bring back gifts for the queen, they do this to feed the colony. Plus they work in groups, I work alone."

“I didn’t compare myself to a queen.”

"You could, it was you who worked to create our home. There is no colony without a queen, and there would not be our home without you."

Their house was perfect, but empty. They didn't talk about having children. The subject didn't seem to appeal to Asa. After all this time, he did not talk about his family, visibly traumatized by their disappearance, and his aversion to others, in addition to his complicated schedule, were not compatible with the role of father.

There were his dogs. Perfectly trained hunting dogs, who were only adorable with their master and his wife. But especially with Y/N, who loved to cuddle them.

“My firefly, they have already eaten and they are not allowed to be inside.”

"Oh, Asa, please ! It's cold outside, and they were very good !"

“You mustn’t get them used to it or they will become fat and lazy.”

“Only for tonight, please !”

His colleagues said he was tough. A cold, distant, almost mean man. It was quickly decided that he would no longer participate in school visits, because he did not know how to talk to children or teachers.

But with Y/N, he was gentle. He refused her nothing. The dogs stayed inside, and not just that evening.

The times Asa told her no, it wasn't his fault. The excuses he found always contained the words 'I would like to, but the museum, my colleagues, the insects…'.

No, she couldn't accompany him on his hunts. She wouldn't like it anyway. It was cold, there was almost no time to sleep, and she might be bored.

“I’ll be with you, that’s the most important thing.”

".. .It's always a joy to be with you. That's also why it's better if you don't come. Then I have a reason to come home."

And he always came home, tired, but satisfied with his work, placing a kiss on Y/N's forehead like a ritual, before caressing her cheek while looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes wide blacks seeming to devour her entirely.

Then came the night when he came home late, very late, with strange injuries and terribly angry. Growling like an animal, he slammed the door so hard that it woke his wife. She found him trying to stitch himself up, mumbling and shaking.

She had never seen him like this. Asa was always calm.

Hesitantly, Y/N asked him if he was okay, and when he looked at her, she was scared for the first time since they met. For a moment, he looked like he didn't recognize her, and was ready to jump on her. Then he took on the features of her husband.

"… My firefly." he sighed, getting up with difficulty to kiss her. "I woke you up. I scared you. Forgive me. There was an incident. I lost several very precious, unique species. But it's my fault, you don't have to suffer my bad mood."

“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital ?”

"It's okay, I promise. Scratches, nothing I can't fix myself. Go back to bed, I'll be with you right away."

Nothing forced her to obey. Y/N could have insisted, asked questions, called an ambulance, but she returned to the room, staring at the wall unable to sleep. She didn't move when Asa came to her, holding her close, his face against her neck, whispering that he loved her.

They talked about the incident in the neighboring town the next day on television. An abandoned factory was ravaged by flames. But that wasn't the worst. It was the lair of a serial killer, whom they called the Collector.

The survivors spoke of horrible things. Of torture, of strange experiences. According to police, the man had died in the fire along with his guard dogs and most of the evidence there was nothing left to fear.

Y/N didn’t ask Asa where the dogs were. She tried not to think about it.

If he was waiting for her to ask him about it, he didn't show it. He didn't talk about what happened during the night, behaving as if everything was perfectly fine, and going to work like every day. He would come home, he would kiss her, and he would do it again. The difference was only that he went out less often.

According to him, the season was not good for hunting. And with the problem at his office, he needed a little time, to rest, to repair the place.

This excuse could have worked forever. Of course, Y/N could have called the museum and they would have confirmed that there had never been any serious incidents, but she didn't want to. She continued to lie next to her husband, letting him embrace her tenderly.

Then there was the man's visit. He seemed surprised to see Y/N, as he placed a large red trunk in the kitchen. Almost sad too. He was holding a gun.

"I imagine you don't know anything about it. I can let you go, if you promise not to warn him, and to let me do what I have to do."

"… I don't understand what to talk to you about."

"Your dear husband. The man who kidnapped and tortured me for weeks. You're lucky you didn't see his little collection. He's a monster. He needs to die."

No doubt the man was right. There had always been something strange about Asa, everyone had always known it and Y/N had been the only one to refuse to see it. She had built her life with him, her home. They had to share everything.

So even if he was right, she without thinking grabbed a knife when he turned, convinced that she had understood and she stuck it in his back, at the level of his heart.

When she realized what she had just done, it was too late. The man was lying in his blood in the middle of the room, his gun fallen next to him. Y/N touched nothing, unable to do anything but cry while trying to remember how to breathe.

Asa found her like this, sitting against a wall, when he returned from the office. He looked at his wife, then at the scene in the kitchen, before putting his things down to crouch down next to her.

Like every times, he held her face so that she could look at him and he could kiss her on the forehead. Then with one hand he wiped the blood from her cheek, massaging her neck with the other to calm her down.

"Tell me what happened. Are you hurt, my firefly ?"

"No… He… He wanted to kill you. He said… Oh, my god. He had a gun, I… I was scared… He said you… Asa …"

"Shh. I'll take care of everything. Come on."

Holding her close, he took her to the bathroom where he helped her undress and get into the shower, which he adjusted so that the water was perfect. Taking a bath would have done her good, but he had to leave her alone to clean up, and he didn't want her to fall asleep.

"I'll be back, my firefly. Just sit here, it's okay."

Y/N didn't know how long she stayed under the water, shaking and crying. Not as long as she thought. Her husband quickly returned to help her get up, dry off and put on pajamas.

Although she was not hungry, he insisted that she have tea and biscuits, as it was not good to keep an empty stomach after such a shock, before putting her to bed. He certainly put something in the tea for her to sleep.

The kitchen was immaculate the next morning, as if nothing had happened. The man, the weapon, the red trunk, everything had disappeared.

Unusually, Asa had prepared breakfast. He was always up before her, but he only had coffee, and he often left for work while she was still asleep, coming to place a kiss on her forehead to warn her.

His dark eyes didn't leave her for a second as Y/N chewed her pancakes with difficulty, one hand on the glass of orange juice that she couldn't drink. She looked everywhere except her husband.

Before the intruder spoke, she had already started to have doubts. Questions. Now everything was quite clear, and all that remained was to decide what she was going to do. Asa was also obviously waiting, sitting near her.

The options were vast. Run away, call the police, risk getting killed… Y/N finally managed to lift the glass of orange juice, while thinking of their meeting.

"… Aren't you going to be late for work ?"

"No. I took some time off to stay with you."

“But your collection… I understood that it would take a long time to rebuild everything.”

"It's not as important as you, my firefly. My mantis religiosa. My black widow." he purred, running a hand through her hair, his lips on her neck.

Asa loved spiders. It was a nice compliment, even if she received it because she had killed a man and agreed not to report him to the authorities. He didn't seem to notice her fear, one of the reasons she remained silent.

Only the other reason mattered. And by giving her all these names, like a transformation, he was telling her that he would not harm her, that he did not see her as prey, and that even if she decided to do so, she could devour him.

#the collector #the collection #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa emory fanfiction #slashers

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everythingne · 3 months

Text

wing damage - mv1 [2]

Max spends the weekend with you to hopefully lift your spirits. A night out leads to a bit more than both of them are expecting as feelings easily resurface and are created with the assistance of being blackout drunk.

max verstappen x influencer!horner!reader

fc: sophia la corte

warnings/notes: implied blackout drunk sex (towards the middle), very suggestive scene (towards the middle), drinking in general, allusions to coping via alcohol, max and nadine made bad decisions (also a reminder the readers nickname is nadine and is used as placeholder for y/n!) also not me coming back over a MONTH later with part two <3 i hope these feeds u

(part one)

It takes two rings for Max to answer my call.

I feel a little desperate when I ask if he can swing by my apartment, knowing he wasn't quite back in Monaco yet. He says he's stopping by the store, voice muffled by the wind, and that he'll be over in thirty or so minutes. The apartment is too quiet and I take the time it takes for him to get here to clean up my mess from the past few days of rotting in the suffocating silence of my apartment.

Without Jacob I felt weird. Lost. Like there should be something there, but I'm met with quiet. But, I guess that's what happens when the person you've lived with for years is suddenly dead to you.

The loneliness I had expected has arrived, even with two roommates. I've isolated myself far away from them.

Max knocking on the door brings me out of my thoughts and I grab the door handle moments later, swinging it open nervously as greeting him as cherrily as I can.

Being immediately brought into a hug by Max lets me know I didn't do a good job.

"C'mon. Pop open this wine, throw on Legally Blonde." He hands me a bottle and grins at me, squeezing my wrist before bringing inside a pack of sodas in one hand and a blanket and bag of snacks in his other hand.

“For you," Max holds out the blanket with one hand, "I was on the phone with your dad when you asked if I could swing by, so I asked Geri for her best post-breakup gift and she made me go buy… everything that’s in this bag plus the blanket—minus the drinks."

I find myself laughing out a thank you, taking the world’s softest blanket into my hands and promptly smacking my face into it.

“God, my mom is a saint.” I mutter into the fabric, before throwing it over my shoulders and bringing him inside. Max kicks off his shoes at the door, tucking them next to my heels from going out to party the past few nights.

"Looks like you've been having fun." He chimes and I shrug, sitting at my kitchen island and leaning on the counter. Max pauses when he notes me not leaning into his playful attitude and a small pout forms at his lips.

“I have the dough for pasta out to thaw,” I say over my shoulder to him as he follows and sits next to me—laying the bag of treats and the sodas on the counter. He just nods in response and we lapse into silence as he looks at me and tries to figure out how to approach this. When we'd been in the paddock, he'd be so angry I was surprised his head didn't burst into flames, but now that it was just us in a much more subdued moment, I could tell big bad Mad Max Verstappen didn't know what to do.

“Hey,” he says after a few moments, leaning over to squeeze my knee in a motion so similar to my father I wondered if he picked it up from him. I hum in response and Max's eyes flicker around the room before settling on me.

“Uhm. Jacob was a jackass. He shouldn’t have done that to you, and he…he’s a dick. I’m not very good at comforting people but if you ever need to just…vent or let off steam. Yeah. I’m here.” he folds his hands into his lap, partially leaning towards me.

I can’t help the little smile that breaks across my lips and I nod, “yeah…thank you, Max.”

"Now come on," He grabs me by the waist and hoists me up, resulting in a high-pitched laugh to echo from my throat. He grabs the blanket and throws it over me once again, before he snags the bag of treats and moves to the couch. He sets me down gently, which I'm thankful for, before he throws himself down next to me and grabs the remote.

"Are we watching the first or second Legally Blonde?" He asks, letting me rest my head on his chest as I toss the blanket over us both.

"The first." I hum, "Not feeling very Elle Woods patriotic today."

"We can watch that tomorrow." Max hums and I look at him briefly. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, shifting so he can pull me to his chest as he says, "What? You think I'm just gonna leave you alone while both of your roommates are out this weekend? Nah, you're stuck with me."

I laugh softly, finding a blush forming on my cheeks and I snuggle in as close as physically possible, "I don't mind being stuck with you at all."

thenadinehorner made a new post!

Around midnight Max and I make the pasta, because my apartment is too cold for the dough to thaw, I end up ditching the completely homemade idea and just use pre packaged noodles. We've decimated the first wine glass, and thats when I find my courage to ask,

"Do you wanna go out tomorrow?"

Max turns to look at me out of the corner of his eye, stirring the pasta into the mix of lemon, alfredo, and cilantro in the pan and he narrows his eyes, "How much have you been drinking this week?"

"I just broke off a several year relationship, Max." I sigh, "Come on, tell me you don't wanna go party!”

"Didn't answer my question." Max turns to me, looking over with a tiny grin and I groan, moving to press my chin to his shoulder and blink up at him in my wine haze.

"Past seven nights? Four days, including tonight. But come on, I've never seen you party in person!" I take another sip of my wine and he laughs softly, lifting to plate out the pasta for the both of us.

"Fine, but don't tell you father I'm taking you out. He'd probably kill me with his bare hands for even letting you drink alcohol with me." Max laughs softly and I laugh as well, happily taking the plate of pasta from his hands.

"Oh come on, he practically treats you like a son." I slurp up some of the pasta and groan, rolling my eyes back at the taste. Max watches me and I notice his smile wobble as he turns his head away, choking out a laugh.

"Yeah, but you're his daughter, that's like... a line." He hums, holding a hand over his mouth as he speaks with food in his mouth, and I narrow my eyes at him. I shrug, swallowing some of my wine and walking back over to the couch as I glance at Max over my shoulder,

"I'd cross it." I say. Though, I don't know what I mean when I say it, or how far I would cross that line. But it riles Max up enough for me to choke on the pasta and sputter out a reply,

"No, no," I wave a hand, "I mean, like I'll cross the line and go to the club."

"Oh, good—Okay, Christ." Max laughs, sitting down next to me and taking a good sized bite of his pasta. We leave the other bottle of wine for another day. Maybe to pregame tomorrow.

nadi.h.jpg made a new post! (private!)

liked by blubellhals, oliviahorner, danielricciardo, and 204 others...

nadi.h.jpg: IM SO DRUNK!!!

tagged: maxverstappen

danielricciardo: OH GOD.

landonorris: u ok hon?

bluebellhals: NADINE HORNER. (u look sexy but CALL ME GIRLIE?)

oliviahorner: OH MY GODDDD AHAHAHAH MAX CHUGGING THE FUCKING BOTTLE IMC RYINGGG

charlesleclerc: oh my god???

carlossainz: OH?? estas borracha ??!!

"Nadi!" Max laughs, dragging me by the elbow down the nearly empty London roads. I giggle and cling to his arm before he scoops me up, considering I'd given him my heels long ago to carry.

"Max!" I giggle back, pressing my cheek to the side of his head as he situates me in a hold against his chest. He laughs and half presses me to the wall so he can fiddle with the keys to my apartment building, and then when he gets it, he lifts me so I'm over his shoulder.

"How are you doing this blackout drunk?" I slur and giggle, kicking my legs in my short dress as one of his hands comes to cover my rear from poking out. He takes a few tries to hit the right floor on the elevator as he sways,

"I'm so fucking drunk I have no idea." He laughs back, his hand absentmindedly squeezing me a bit when I slip and I let out a little gasp that makes him chuckle, "Ay, don't get any ideas alright? Just making sure you don't fall and die."

"Aw, you care." I laugh as the elevator dings and he brings me out and to my room. When we get there he sets me down and helps me out of my jacket before I do the same to him, my scattered mind letting my hands linger a bit too long on his sides.

"We're already gonna be hungover when we wake up," I hum, trailing my fingers along his ribs, since I can feel them on his sides through his shirt, "We can have more wine, right?"

"You don't need more," Max laughs, resting his hands on my hips, "I don't either, I'll end up vomiting."

"Ew!" I giggle, leaning into him for support in the tiny hall. His hand rests on the entry table to balance himself as he wraps his arm tighter around me, I blink up at him and watch the way his eyes flicker around my skin. His eyes lower to my lips and I feel my breath hitch, I step closer until theres no more space and look through my lashes before tilting up and grinning at him with a drunken giggle.

"Like what you see, Maxie?" I hum, sliding my hands up his sides until wrapping them around his back, nails slightly scratching through the thin white shirt as I tilt my head at him in tease.

"Oh, don't do this to me." He groans, eyes rolling and shutting tight as he lets out a breathy sigh, "Don't do this to me, Nadi."

"Do what?" I question with genuine concern, watching as he opens his eyes and his grip tightens partially. He's in my space, nose almost touching mine, but he's not invading me. Infact, I'd let him stay here forever.

"You know you are a line I can't cross." He murmurs, lips ghosting mine and I want to connect us so bad but when I tilt forward he pulls back and groans in the back of his throat. I hate the way it makes a flame ignite in my stomach. I'd never seen Max like this, but yet in the past four years I'd been infatuated with the guy who broke my heart.

"I don't want you to do this and regret it." He whispers, "Because I've loved you for a very long time, and if you let me do this, it won't be good for either of us. And we're drunk as shit, so I'm not thinking straight and I doubt you are too."

"You're a very coherent drunk." I hum and Max snorts, watching me sway in place as the world swirls around me.

"Thanks, it's the trauma." He says and I laugh, pitching into him hard enough he stumbles. Pushing me the other way so I don't fall, he catches me against the entry way table, his hands on either one of my hips and holding me tight to make sure I stay put.

Was he always this attractive, or was I just stupid drunk?

"Y/n." Max whispers out a whine of my birth name, all it does it make my breath hitch and my heart thrum as he brings a hand to my throat and feels my pulse under his thumb. I close my eyes, rolling them as he pulls me in with that hand, ghosting his lips along the edge of my jaw.

I find enough courage to whisper, "But what if I said yes, hm? I don't have a problem with doing this with you."

"Do you know how many times I've imagine this exact moment?" He growls against the skin of my neck, teeth nipping at the skin with each word he breathes out heavily against my perfume covered skin. I bring a hand to the back of his head, bump his teeth into the skin, and to my delight he bites.

"Fuck." I whisper, "we can't."

"Oh, but you just said we could," Max lifts his head from my neck, eyes meeting mine, his hand dips and I flutter at the feeling of him tracing a tiny shape into the inside of my thigh. He indents it with his nail, leaving a crescent as he whispers, "didn't you, sweetheart?"

As he accentuates his words with a soft kiss to soothe the bite, his fingers skim the edge of my skirt and tug to lift it up a bit higher. I bite my lip and he uses a thumb to my chin to pull it back out, capturing me in a slow kiss as his hands drop back down to my thighs to pick me up, setting me on the entry table.

He kneels, looking up at me with those big eyes and he asks permission, and my hands find his hair as I nod and that stupid cocky grin splits across his lips and makes my heart tumble into his hands.

Thank god my roommates are gone.

I wake up with a splitting headache and a bout of nausea that makes me almost lose it over the side of my bed. I don't remember much past leaving the club when I'd started to get super drunk and force myself to sit up to check the time.

And then I realize I am very much not wearing clothes.

"Oh fuck." I hiss, turning to look around my empty room. Well, save for the familiar blonde man shaped lump next to me in bed.

Wait a fucking second.

"Oh my god!" I shout without thinking and the mass stirs, a soft mess of English and Dutch seeping from his lips. He pushes himself to his forearms and looks over, blinking before his face drops into the same horror I'd just gone through.

"Oh fuck." Is all he can manage, then there's a soft banging on my door and my step-mother's voice echoes through the apartment and Max brings a hand to his mouth as he groans, "Oh, I'm so dead."

"We both are! Get up!" I hiss under my breath, scrambling to get out of bed and curb my nausea as I grab the first big knit sweater and leggings in my hamper and throw them on while Max roots through his suitcase to find something to wear. I dip into the bathroom and throw my hair up to mostly hide its mess, luckily the sweater covers most marks left on my skin. When Max comes in I grab his face and squint at him through my hangover.

"If anyone asks, you slept on the couch, and I let you use my bathroom to get ready because the warm water isn't working in the guest bathroom." I hiss out and Max nods, a blush on his face as I slam the door shut and call out to my step-mom that I'm coming to answer. Making my way into the foyer, I scoop up the discarded clothing and astray items, tucking them into a bin by the door and quickly doing a once over of the main room of my apartment.

I needed to light a candle.

I unlock the door and pop it open, rubbing at my head and Geri chuckles at my clearly hungover state as she asks, "Bad time?"

"I'm so hungover I might throw up." I say and she nods, giggling as she continues with a slightly curious look in her eyes. I know she's trying to figure it out.

"You don't exactly sleep in until four in the afternoon for fun." She hands me a bag, "Max is still here I assume, he left these. Just stopping by to give them back."

"He's showering, yeah. Geri, if I saw you were coming I would've grabbed them so you didn't have to come up here." I laugh, taking the bag. When the collar of my sweater shifts, Geri's eyes flick down and she raises her eyebrows at me and it's that moment I know she's caught me.

"Don't say a word." I point and she raises her hands with a shocked laugh, nodding to me.

"I don't even want to know who gave it to you," She says looking away with red on her cheeks and a loud laugh, "I'm just gonna go, because if I'm here any longer your father might get impatient. Also you are an adult, and it’s none of my business!”

"Thanks, Ger." I run a hand through my bangs to smooth as best I can and Geri nods, flicking her eyes across my body with her new knowledge and stifling a laugh into the back of her hand. Part of me wants to reach over and whack her, but I refrain from letting my embarrassment get the best of me. She gives me a tight hug, wishes me well, and starts to walk away. Before I can shut the door, she calls my name over her shoulder and I poke my head out to see her standing in the elevator doors as she shouts,

"Tell Max to be a bit softer next time!"

And my response is a slam of my apartment door and a loud groan into the wooden material it's made of. I step back and turn to see Max poke his head out of the doorway of my bedroom.

"Just Geri, this is yours." I say, walking over to him and setting the bag into his hands, "and..."

"I'm sorry." He sighs, running a hand through the front of his now wet hair. I try to ignore how much I want to do the same thing. I swallow it down and bury it as far as I can. He's twenty seven, not much older but enough for my father to raise an eyebrow. I was only twenty two, barely so.

"I'm just as much at fault, it takes two to tango, y'know." I hum and he huffs out a laugh, and despite myself I say, "if it makes you feel better, even if it was a stupid decision... I don't entirely regret it. Even if I don't remember it that much."

"I don't remember much either." He agrees, "can we just agree to not... ever, talk about this happening again?"

"Happily." I nod as I feel a weird sort of relief and embarrassment rush across my skin. I would happily pretend this had never happened. But when my eyes meet his, theres something within their depths that tells me this wouldn't be a one time hookup. Call me crazy, or horny, or whatever you want, but there was something that has shifted. Something new was settled between us, and Max and I would never be the same.

But we painfully would pretend to be. To save face.

taglist (thank u for ur support <3!)

@rosegasly @uuzhanggggggg @biitch-with-wifi @1655clean @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic

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sydsaint · 3 months

Text

Summary: The reader is Jey's baby sister. She finds herself getting into some trouble with Damian Priest when Jey leaves her backstage while he's busy with a match against JD McDonagh.

"I told you, I ain't want you near any of these dudes YN." Jey scolds you for what seems like the umpteenth time.

"So you get to run around and flirt with half of the girl's roster? But I have to just what? Sit here and wither away from loneliness and boredom?" You scoff.

Jey grits his teeth, clearly annoyed by your antics. "Yes!" He huffs at you. "Come on, YN. It's bad enough I got all these guys after me here on Raw. I don't need to be worrying about who's hanging around you too."

You roll your eyes at Jey. He's always been the more protective sibling of your brothers. When things broke down with The Bloodline and Roman you chose to leave with Jey rather than stay on Smackdown with the rest of the family.

"I'm not a child anymore, Jey. I can take care of myself." You remind Jey of your age.

"Come on, YN." Jay lets out a frustrated sigh. "Just, don't go getting into trouble, alright? For me?" He asks you.

You study your brother's pleading eyes and sigh. "Okay okay." You groan to yourself. "I'll hang backstage tonight, alright?" You give up.

"Thank you." Jey relaxes a bit. "Now, I've got a match against JD McDonagh in a bit that I need to get to. Wait for me here, please?" He asks you.

"I won't move from this spot." You nod. "As long as you promise to kick JD's ass for me." You joke.

Jey nods and heads off for his match. You keep your promise and remain in place backstage while you wait for Jey to come back.

You are absently scrolling through your phone when a shadow is cast over you indicating that someone is standing in front of you. You look up from your phone and find Damian Priest looming over you with a sly smile.

"Damian." You put down your phone and lean back a bit to create some space between the two of you. "Hello." You greet him.

"YN, what's going on mamas?" He asks you in that velvet-smooth tone of his. You watch his eyes rake over you briefly and lick his lips subtly.

"Oh, just waiting for Jey to kick your man JD's ass." You challenge him with a sly smile.

Damian huffs, cracking an amused grin as he does. "Jey benched you for the night huh?" He asks you. "Now that's a damn shame. Pretty mami like you? You should be out there kicking it with the crowd." He taunts you.

"Well, I can't argue with that." You shrug. "How come you're not out there, Damian?" You ask him.

"Now why would I want to be out there with JD and your brother when all of the fun is happening back here?" He asks you.

An amused grin plays on your lips. "Fair enough."

Damian's eyes rake over you one more time. He takes in every detail of your face and body on display in front of him that he can before his gaze returns to meet yours.

"What do you say we get out of here?" He suggests. "Drinks are on me." He offers

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?" You giggle and set a delicate hand on his chest.

Damian glances down at your hand on his chest before returning your gaze again. "More than you know, mami." He chuckles.

You and Damian continue your little game of light touches and lingering gazes for a while. That is until Jey comes back from his match against JD and spots the two of you.

"YN!" Jey's voice carries across the room.

You look over Damian's shoulder as Jey marches across the room with a sour look on his face.

"Oh-ho, looks like the parties are over big man." You sigh and pat Damian's chest.

Damian chuckles as you hop to your feet and slip past him with an innocent smile. "Yeah, Jey?" You meet your brother halfway across the room.

"I asked you to stay out of trouble!" Jey scolds you.

"You asked me to stay backstage and out of the way." You argue with him. "And that's what I did." You add. "I haven't moved since you left for your match with JD."

Jey narrows his eyes at you and huffs a breath through his nose. You step off to his side and Jey shoots a glare toward Damian.

"Stay away from my sister, Priest," Jey warns Damian with a scowl before grabbing your arm and dragging you off.

"Bye, Damian." You call over your shoulder as Jey drags you off.

Damian laughs as you're dragged off. "Have a good night, gorgeous!" He calls after you.

#wrestling #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #damien priest #damian priest #damian priest x reader #the judgement day #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #syd's wrestling fics

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diejager · 4 months

Note

OKOK so if you don’t wanna do this it’s totally FINE!

I grew up without a father, so I always felt like I had to be the protector (I’m not gonna get into full detail,) and it gave me BAD trauma. (I’m a female) How would 141 react to this? Like basically them telling me I don’t have to be tough anymore, I don’t have to hide my emotions from people, I don’t have to be the strong one. Again if you don’t want to do this it’s okay! I’ve just been feeling really down with myself, I’ve been breaking into random crying episodes.

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶♥︎♥︎

Ah, I see, your father really missed out on something good. I just want to apologise in advance if I got some things terribly wrong. If you need someone to talk to my DMs are open. Love you too🥰

Rest Cw: absent father, trauma, breaking down, tell me if I missed any.

They watched you stumble, stutter around them and grow awkward and self-conscious when they became protective of you, more so than a normal colleague relationship implied. It made your shoulders tense, smile looking more like a wince than the ones they were used to and your mind block out anything that would incur a resurgent memory. It pained to see you so uneasy towards their affection, the love and softness they easily gave you once you pushed through their hardened hearts and shatter the walls they built around themselves.

You were always so strong, going forth without hesitation to do what you had to, the strong-headed operator in their Task Force that always stepped ahead to protect them and yourself. Despite your freely-given affection, you were absent emotionally, dancing on the line of emptiness and loneliness, a lasting impact of an absent parent. You were sometimes odd, mind wandering to different places and coming up with what-ifs situations, blocking ou the world around you - them and the bustling crowd in the Mess hall - or at times, closing your door in their faces, turning your back to them when you seemed to need them the most, never letting them help you quell that heartache and pain.

“Lass,” it was Johnny’s voice, the jovial one of your quirky group, his saddened voice muffled by your closed door, a physical barrier between them and your broken world, “Let us in, would ya?”

If you ignored them long enough, they’d eventually leave you. Most did that, never bothering to put more effort into interacting with you when you tried to ignore them, they wouldn’t bother you much more later.

“Let us help you, ” Kyle, it was him that spoke up after Johnny, a soft thrum in his voice, gentle and reassuring as he gave a small knock on your door. He called out your name - you government one - through it, a little hum following it.

It pained you to shut them out, the cord connecting you to them pulled tightly, ready to snap if you did anything mad. Your face burned, blinking away the tears that clung to your lashes and shuddering, laboured gasps through your mouth. You couldn’t let them see you like this, it would shatter the image you tried so hard to create through blood, sweat and tears, all your hard work would go to waste if you opened the door.

“Please.”

You choked a breath, eyes widening as your mind spun. No one else had the deep and low tone, a rumble-like growl softened to seem harmless, almost vulnerable in sound. You’d never heard Ghost speak so gently —so weak and soft. How could you say no when Ghost had asked so nicely, his pretty please echoing in your mind like a song on repeat.

“You don’t have to let everyone in, sweetheart,” Price had always been a good bargainer, his words throwing the truth into people’s face despite their reluctance to listen. “Just one of us, yeah?”

You guessed having all of them in wouldn’t be too bad, knowing how much of a part you played in their little group of misfits and chaotic bunch. They’ve showed how much they cared for you prior to this, many times in and out of deployment, the drunken moments in a pub or in the solace of the Task Force’s own rec room. Despite your paranoid and fearful mind conjuring up many images and situations, you fond yourself unconsciously moving towards the door, your silent steps growing loud the closer you got to the metal knob. You flicked the lock off, letting it crack open. Light from the hall flooded in, peaking through your opened door, encompassing the towering figure of your Lieutenant, a sentry to your self-proclaimed cell, the protector of your broken mind.

“There you are, luv,” you could see the smile through his eyes, his warm browns showering you in silent affection, “Let me in?”

Letting him in was the hardest, yet easiest thing you’d ever done, welcoming him - another man’s fractured min - into your darkest moments, cheeks wet and lips bitten bloody, choking down your sobs. It couldn’t hurt to let them help, to let Price, Ghost, Kyle and Johnny in.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

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gavisuntiedboot · 11 months

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"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."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

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

*~*Taglist*~*

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

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ask-the-prose · 1 year

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Writing Burnout and Helpful Tips

Hi yall, it’s been wonderful seeing ask-the-prose posts going around writeblr and I’m so happy to see that some of these guides are helpful. If you have a specific topic you’d like me to cover, send in an ask!

What is burnout?

Burnout is incredibly common and nothing to be ashamed of! If you find you are too exhausted to do what you love, running out of ideas, or perhaps not wanting to do anything, you may be burned out. Burnout can pose a serious block to your writing, and it’s just not fun.

Burnout can happen when you’re stretching yourself too thin, spending more time and energy creating than taking in creativity, or not taking care of yourself the way you need.

Step 1: Put out the fire

One of the number one ways to fast-track your way to burnout is to forget to care for yourself. We’re writers! Sometimes we get in the zone, or maybe a little obsessed, and we forget to eat, hydrate, and maybe even put off sleep. But ignoring self-care is unsustainable.

We all see posts all over reminding us to hydrate, eat well, sleep, and even stretch, but these are genuinely great tips to remember when you’re not feeling well. I’d like to add a few ideas to try when you’re feeling down.

Exercise. Walk, run, play a sport, do anything that helps move your body, whatever you can do to help your blood flow, even if it’s just a few push-ups or a good stretch.

Find a new set of walls to stare at. I get in a rut going to the same places or staying home when I have nowhere to go. But hanging out at a coffee shop or cafe helps me often. It’s a chance to observe people, see new things, and get some sunlight. If you need to shake it up, try a new cafe!

Socialize. Sometimes burnout looks like loneliness. Socialize! Talk to a friend or family member, or make a new friend! New perspectives help.

Not all of these work for everybody, but they’re friendly suggestions to try when you’re feeling burnout coming on.

Step 2: Replenish your reserves

As creatives, we get stuck always wanting to create, but that’s not sustainable either! Creativity is not just an internal process, we need external stimulation to replenish our creative reserves. When you feel like you just can’t come up with ideas or anything new, maybe it’s time to read.

Reading can help, though I personally understand the struggle to read (and finish!) books. Start with short stories or novellas if you struggle to read novels. Read within the genre you’re trying to write, and then step out of your genre and try something new. You never know when inspiration will strike.

Watch movies, listen to new music, play a video game, or do anything that can give you a creative boost. Reading is critical, but learning about other mediums is just as important.

Step 3: Self-indulgence is key

You may find as you’re recovering from the burnout that your wip may just be what’s causing the problem. Ask yourself some important questions:

Am I writing for myself?

Am I writing something that I want to write?

If not, what do I want to write about?

Do I like what I’m writing, or do I feel like it’s what everyone wants to read?

Answer these questions for yourself, and if you find you don’t like those answers, take a look at your project and see what you can or want to change. Remember, if it’s not fun and it’s not what you want, then it might not be worth it.

Take what you need, leave what you don’t

As always, this guide is meant to be helpful, and as with all writing advice, it’s entirely subjective. I believe these tips work because they worked for me. But if you find that something isn’t helping, leave it! Move on or adjust to what you as an individual need to recover from your burnout.

Remember that no writing is ever wasted and that your writing matters. We need your voice too!

– Indy

#writing help #writing advice #writing tips #writing burnout #writers block #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writblr #avoiding burnout #writing community #writing resources #writers of tumblr #creative writing

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m4rried2the-moon · 4 months

Text

⁽ 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘤 ⁾ 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴

this is a reading i recently did for myself, it’s basically just to take a look at what your fears are, how to overcome them and the outcome of that.

please only take what resonates, listen to your intuition closely. don’t second guess that gut feeling!

pile 1 - king of swords, five of swords, ace of swords, two of cups, five of cups (overcome: seven of cups outcome: two of wands, nine of swords and six of swords)

okay pile one, are you struggling with feelings of defeat and mental guardedness?or maybe you fear someone/something around you who is making your life harder in some way. you’re very in your head, pile one, and your feelings. there could be hesitation to start something new or take action on an idea or project you’ve been thinking of. have you been hurt in the recent past? i see that you may fear starting a new relationship or putting your faith in a new one, letting go of past failed relationships/hopes may be difficult in this moment.

to overcome this, allow this opportunity to be a blessing. this is not a trick, this is not a test. it’s an opportunity to open yourself up to new adventures, friendships, a new major success — whatever resonates for you! the outcome of this is more options, seeing that if you take a chance on this beginning, you’ll see that your fears were in vain and you’ll be able to find peace in this transition.

pile 2 - five of swords, queen of cups, ten of cups, two of wands, three of cups (overcome: three of swords, six of pentacles outcome: seven of cups and nine of cups)

pile two, have you been struggling with loneliness? feel like the folks associated with this pile are very sensitive people, you may have experienced trauma in the recent past (issues with betrayal, unnecessary conflict, grudge holding maybe) and your fear may be of never being able to find true fulfillment. an emotional guard is present with this pile but it’s clear that your desire is pure in wanting what seems to simply be more emotionally fulfilling and engaging relationships/interactions. do you feel trapped by stagnation?

to overcome this, when reflecting on your trauma, past regrets or fears of loneliness, remember that just like stormy weather, this too shall pass. be open to sharing, to generosity with those around you. engage with someone you wouldn’t typically engage with or pause to be gentler with yourself. give yourself and others grace as source will grant you. this heartbreak will not end in vain. the outcome of this is a realization your dreams are directly in your grasp and you aren’t only deserving of receiving them but you may be already.

pile 3 - queen of swords, two of wands, king of swords, the fool, eight of of swords, six of pentacles (overcome: four of pentacles, ace of pentacles and three of swords outcome: queen of pentacles, ace of cups and queen of cups)

pile three, are you struggling with discouragement? it feels like there may be multiple factors (people, responsibilities, self) weighing in on your life. these things are making you feel like you’re not able to be happy or free. are you easily influenced, pile three? it feels like while you are able to dream and hope for better, it seems like you haven’t been able to get back to positivity or optimism in a while. this may be an effect of these varying factors discouraging you. there may even be an opportunity for a new start if you have the confidence to pursue it. do you fear there is nothing or worse for you beyond this?

to overcome this, look past your stronghold on your own solitude. look ahead into ‘what if?’ there seems to be a chance here to create a new perspective, a chance to grow from whatever kept you stagnant. what if the road less traveled leads to happiness beyond like any you’ve experienced before? the outcome of this is the opportunity to love — the gift of realizing abundance is endless once you accept this as fact. in my opinion, life is supposed to be enjoyable and easy; without feeling alive, life is purely existence.

that’s it for now, hope this helped and you got everything you needed <3 please remember to like/reblog!

#pick a card #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a reading #tarot reading

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