#the epilogue is such whiplash I love it
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John Marston really harnessed the power of friendship to build The Farm Ever for his wife and never looked back.
Love that for him fr fr.
#idk intrusive thoughts time#he really is my silly little guy#john marston#abigail marston#rdr#rdr 2#the epilogue is such whiplash I love it
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oh yeah i finished rdr2 epilogue by the way..... i thought pacing and character writing was iffy at parts but it was fun
#i think a lot of it would've hit harder if i played rdr honestly like there were a lot of moments that i saw how it would be impactful#if i had played rdr and knew john better and all that#still have issues with the credits coming at the end of the epilogue and how fast it launches you into it#it also feels a lot more railroady than the rest of the game (fair)#but it kinda all felt rushed and like i was just being pulled from one place to another idk#i liked seeing the characters again though!! sadie was really well written she is so interesting and i love her#seeing charles was nice too but he mostly ended up being the 'guy who knows things and is very capable' role#i wish we got to see more of his inner world like the conversations john gets to have with sadie#it was still good though overall!! i do wish the world had changed more physically between main game and epilogue l#but that is a lot to ask (remodeling entire towns)#there were a few changes but idk. i also didn't explore that much#anyways!!! i've been having dumb cowboy thoughts so much this game is good#i will always stand by my critique of the pacing and tonal whiplash of main game to epilogue was an insaney poor choice but. it's fine
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When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu
MASTERPOST
PREV | NEXT
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.
Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.
Word Count: 1.9k
Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!
Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939
Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away.
When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening.
“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.
“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.
Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.
“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”
Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.
“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.
“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”
“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.
At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”
“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.”
“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”
You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.
“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly.
“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”
“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.
“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.
“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.
“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”
Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.
You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested.
“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least.
“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.
“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.
A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.
“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch.
“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.
You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.
“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.
“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.
“Understood.”
With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.
—
Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.
Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.
“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”
You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”
“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.
“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.
He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”
“No…”
A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”
“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.
“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”
“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”
He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on”
He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.
“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer.
“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”
“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.
“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.
He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”
There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips.
“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.
You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.
“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”
Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.
“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.
You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.
“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within.
You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.
“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.”
His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright.
“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”
A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.
“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!”
Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.
Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.
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#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton fluff#benedict bridgerton angst#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton fluff#bridgerton angst#bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x female reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n
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Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)
Part 10
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Epilogue
Warnings: SMUT!! and also BAD WRITING!! TYPOS AS WELL PROBABLY!! BUT MAINLY THE SMUT!!!
Word Count: 21.5K (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 159 pages single space of reading.)
A/N: Here it is. The finale of my heartfelt daydream, laid bare for you all to see. I hope you've enjoyed the ride: the road ends here.
GIF: @gavidaily (i've been waiting since part 1 to use this mf gif)
Previously on Just Pretend
"Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises."
~
"You're late. It's 6:45." "Good morning to you too, Gavira."
~
Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else.
~
"Are we not friends, y/n?"
"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."
"I don't hate you. I think."
~
Gavi stopped thinking. He acted on impulse only. He tugged the wrist that was in his hand, pulling you in. Your head met with his hard chest, and you felt one arm circle your shoulder. You remained like this for a long moment: up against Gavi, his arm pressing you into his chest, his shirt soaking up the wetness on your cheeks.
"'m sorry. I won't let him talk to you that way anymore."
~
"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.
"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
~
"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.
"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.
"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."
~
"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."
~
"My heart, doctora. When I give it to you, please keep it. Forever."
~
Now...
"Miss y/l/n, due to the... historic lack of women in the club, we do not have internal policies regarding relationships between players and employees. We just use the ones that La Liga as a whole have put in place. Those are quite forgiving, in my opinion. You can enter a romantic workplace relationship as long as it is appropriately disclosed, and you cannot be terminated as a result of that relationship ending. I saw the photo of you being pulled onto the field during the final of the Supercopa. Do you mean to tell me it was not with romantic intent?"
You had never experienced more severe whiplash in your life. First, you had been reprimanded for being too close to Pablo, for showing what Xavi classified as 'favoritism', as it hurt the team dynamic. Then you had been ridiculed by staff and players for allegedly sleeping with Pablo, and had been told you could be fire for doing so even if it was a bold faced lie. And now, months later, you were being told that it was not only okay for you to be in a relationship with Pablo, but you literally couldn't lose your job if you did? Someone in the family must have been praying for you. Or for Pablo. Was Pedri religious?
"Dr. Gonzalez, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Gavi and I are just friends. Not even - we're just coworkers that get along well! There was no romance happening anywhere on the field."
And it was true. Well, sort of. You couldn't speak for Gavi's intention, but you would bet that he hadn't meant to do anything that could be perceived as romantic. Not only was he incredibly shy when it came to anything to do with his private life, but moreover, you had started to toy with the idea that maybe you were wrong about Pablo. Maybe you had misread the signs. Maybe Pedri's stylist, who you now also so lovingly referred to as naranja, had only fed into your delusions instead of delivering the hard truth to you.
"He's in love with you, stupid."
That's exactly what she had said to you when you answered the question 'so are you close to Pedri?', stating that the things Pablo did for you were far from the actions of a friend. And she was right. Friends didn't need to be physically touching in order to have a peaceful night of sleep. Friends don't feel the need to always be near the other, unable to focus if one wasn't near. Friends certainly didn't imagine each other in compromising situations: shirtless, panting, trying so hard to control his throbbing- no. Friends certainly didn't imagine such scenes. Most of all, friends didn't find themselves in these intimate moments, the air thick with anticipation, where lips were centimeters from meeting, and seconds away from saying something that would change the dynamic forever. Well, at least that's what you thought. Maybe Naranja would be your friend long enough to see if these were truly just normal hallmarks of friendship (although Pedri might be a tad upset if the two of you started sleeping together). You're glad she offered her cellphone number to you.
But this was not the only opinion that was presented to you. You had been sitting on your couch one night, a rare evening when Gavi had promised to accompany Ansu to one hangout or another, his absence felt greatly. It had been weeks since you had a moment that wasn't filled by Pablo's voice, his laughter, his breathing as you completed an assignment while he scrolled through TikTok. There was an eerie silence to the house now, and you needed something to take your thoughts off of your maladaptive daydreams of Pablo laying on your couch, looking up at you through long lashes with a tender gaze. It was almost as if you could run your hands through his messed up brown locks, watching his eyes close as you massaged his scalp, feeling him lean more into your touch.That's all you wanted. Not even for Pablo to come to you with a grand confession of love, but just to be with him with no boundaries, no fear, no awkwardness. Just love and safety and the freedom to exist as you were. Together.
But there was no idle chatter or TikTok sounds to fill the silence, and so you had to do so yourself. You made yourself a delectable cup of tea, favorite mug warming your palm as you tried to balance your plate of snacks in the other. The camp nutritionists had been testing recipes all week, and had sent you home with some of the best food you had ever had, including a tupperware of cookies that could give those little Nestle birds a run for their money. Comfortable on the couch in that same black hoodie with the embroidered '6', you qued, rather ironically, He's Just Not That Into You (a great romcom, but not for people doubting if they're deserving of being loved). Your phone had lit up with a familiar name that you hadn't seen in months now.
"Angelika! How are you? How was fashion week? I saw the collection on Instagram. It looked stunning!"
Since her announcement about moving to Paris, you hadn't heard a peep from your 'best friend'. A mutual friend you ran into at the market had told you her move had been delayed until after the collection had shown at fashion week since the creative director had surprisingly quit, so everything was on ice until he was replaced. You had seen her collection on Diet Prada, not questioning why you hadn't seen the posts that she had made celebrating her work.
"Oh it was fabulous, and Alessandro just got replaced so Paris must be coming soon. I would have invited you, but I only got 6 invitations, and you're always so busy. Didn't want to have an empty seat."
She knew she had made a mistake when she saw your face on the screen drop. You had been the main supporter of Ang's career since you met her, and yet she didn't even bother sending you an invitation or seeing if you might be able to attend.
"Anyway, how have you been? What's new with you?"
You spoke briefly about school and work, before taking a deep breath and opening up the gnarly can of worms that was you and Gavi's current situation. You had no other people with enough context or who you felt comfortable enough with to reveal all your thoughts on the matter. All your hopes and dreams that he would sweep you off your feet. All your insecurities and fears that you had created something unhealthy, something that would dissolve into worse than nothing. No matter how you spun it, it was nice to have a friend, even if you had to ignore that you were walking a mile to see an inch in return.
Angelika listened rather silently to the entire series of events, asking one or two clarifying questions, but for the most part allowing you to monologue. When you finished speaking, you sighed rather dreamily and fell back into your couch, pulling your (Gavi's) hoodie closer around you. Sometime you forgot how much he had bulked up, until you were drowning in the shirts he had donated to you. Maybe there was something there. Now that Dr. G had confessed he thought you two were already in a relationship, the only missing piece was Pablo. You had tried to hint to him that, if he felt even the slightest affection towards you, he should go for it. Make the shot. The goal was empty - hell, the goalie would even guide the ball in for him. Had you been too subtle with your affections? Or had he purposefully ignored the brush of your lips on his throat in order to preserve your pride?
“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit delusional?”
Angelika’s statement was like a splash of ice water on your warm and fuzzy form. You looked at the FaceTime call like the woman on the screen in front of you had grown horns from her head.
“I’m … what?”
“Delusional. I mean it seems like you’re reading too much into his actions. So he what? Used you as his driver and let you keep a hoodie he got from the staff for free? Nothing super special.”
“But… but it wasn’t just that. He-“ She hadn’t even let you finish your sentence, not so subtly rolling her eyes, like she was so utterly bored with your story.
“Yeah, yeah, he punched your ex boyfriend who cheated on you. But I mean, cmon, you like, refused to fuck him. This is the second guy to cheat on you. Maybe it’s you, ha. And Gavi is literally just a raging teenager who has been looking to hit someone. I don’t think you should fly into your princess fantasies because he he finally lost his shit. And now you’re sleeping next to him every night and he’s waiting for you to give him some pussy. Better melt up quick, ice princess, before he gets tired of waiting.”
There it was again. The nausea. The head pounding. The vision blurring and room spinning. The sinking feeling that you were being betrayed by someone you had let in again. If you squinted your eyes a little, she might have even slightly resembled Martin.
“You… think he’s only being nice to me so that I’ll sleep with him?” You asked, voice soft and slow to hide the shake desperately wanting to emerge.
“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like there’s much else there. Now you look upset, but don’t be. I’m just telling you the truth so you don’t get hurt.”
“No, you’re just being a bitch.”
Your response seemed to have caught the both of you off guard. Your face had gone red with frustration, hands trembling with rage that you were desperately trying to quell. What a funny thing, rage. Feminine rage to be exact. The rage of men is common place in society - sort of like bullets. Everyone has heard a gunshot or seen what a bullet can do, in their personal life or on a screen. Male rage and fury is a normal part of life that everyone expects and respects. People bite their tongues hard enough to draw blood before they dare lash out at a man, fearful of sharp words and blunt fists. But feminine rage wasn’t a real threat. Oh no, it was more of a concept. A black and red Pinterest aesthetic in red and black, with pinups and devil horns and swirling script. It was only a danger to the self; a threat of implosion with no shrapnel to hit anyone else. A star dying, a mind shattering, as entertainment to those around. There was never an expectation for her to lash out and defend herself against those who poked at her until she bled. But should a cornered lioness cower in fear rather than attacking?
“What… what the hell is wrong with you?”
“No, what the hell is wrong with you, Angelika? All I’ve done since the day I met you is try and be there for you. All I’ve done is support you through everything - relationships, family drama, you’re entire fucking career! You had professors tell you that you would be a generic designer for H&M, and I was there for you. I was the only person with you at three in the fucking morning telling you that you could do better, that you could be amazing. I was a pincushion, a mannequin, a personal chauffeur to the fabric store. And I didn’t ever do these things because I wanted something in return. I genuinely cared about you and just wanted to see my closest friend succeed! But you couldn’t even pretend to care about this obviously one-sided relationship. All I ever was to you was a person to use when you needed and thrown away when you didn’t. I was preparing for my dream interview, my biggest career goal since I was a fucking child, and not only did you ‘forget’ to give me one word of encouragement, you asked me to be your fucking ride home! And you know what? I made my peace with it. I came to terms with the fact that you thought I was incompetent at my job because everyone seems to think I’m a physio ditz. But for you to call me the nickname people called me in college to objectify me, and then say all I’m worthy of is sex?!”
Angelika was now teary eyed and red in the face. She was shaking her head, unable to respond, acting like the spitting image of a deer caught in the headlights. She was now stumbling over her words, unable to string a complete sentence together.
“That’s … thats not true I didn’t say that.”
“No, that’s exactly what you just said. Don’t be a liar on top of being a shit person. You just said it was my fault I got cheated on by my last two partners. And now I’ve still decided to give you the benefit of the doubt after you straight up admitted to me that you didn’t think of me as one of the top six people in your happy moments. I’ve poured my heart out to you and you don’t even have the decency to lie! You either said that to purposefully hurt me, or you never cared enough to listen when I spoke. Either way, you’re just the last in a long line of people who I have let walk all over me.”
Your expression was steeled and icy. You hadn’t even raised your voice once during the entire exchange, remaining calm and level headed despite the deep cuts you had made in Angelika’s self-confidence. Your lips were downturned and brows knitted together, looking at her with all the loathing she had caused you to feel for yourself. It was hard to be alone, but it was better than being surrounded with people who convinced you that you would never be enough if you didn’t fit their mold. The girl on the other side of the FaceTime call was clearly experiencing every stage of grief all at once, unsure how to respond. She had gotten through the denial, and was knee-deep in the anger. But anger did not spark eloquence, sparking the simple response of,
“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”
And you could swear you saw genuine fear in her eyes as a bright, beaming smile spread across your face. Maybe you had never seen love, but you had seen friendship. You had seen that there were people ready to carry your entire world on their shoulders. And no matter how slowly, you were working to believe that you could be loved, even by yourself. The rage had evaporated and recrystallized as content. So you smiled sickeningly sweetly at Angelika, and gave her a heartfelt response.
“I’ll see you there, darling.”
Pressing the bright red button to end the call was one of the most satisfying things you had ever done in your life. The headache and nausea and ‘I want to die’ feeling that you usually had after a confrontation was nowhere to be found. Quite the opposite, actually. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your entire chest felt like it had more room for air. Was this what every day was like for people without anxiety? How glorious. Pressing play on Gennifer Goodwyne’s best work, you made a mental note to speak to a therapist the following morning. This felt amazing. You were genuinely smiling at… what exactly? The loss of a friend? No, no - liberation from someone’s foot on your neck. What new and exciting things could you do with this new found freedom, this fresh lease on life? Naturally, you did your favorite activity: picking up the phone and texting Gavi.
Gone were the days of Pablo wracking his brain for any excuse to email, text, or call you. It was almost funny how much he had to talk himself up, looking at his reflection and reiterating how much of a 'cool, suave guy' he was before typing out a very intelligent and eloquent 'hi'. Watching a series that he had no interest in initially just to have something to talk to you about that wasn't one of his leg muscles (no interest initially - now he was patiently waiting 4-6 weeks for his neon sign in the shape of the House Stark sigil). Now it was you who couldn't leave Gavi alone, using your messages to him as a pseudo journal, spewing your entire stream of consciousness into little blue bubbles.
[You]: PABLO
[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID
Locking your phone and resting it on your chest, you refocused on the chick flick illuminating the darkness of your living room, the device vibrating against you less than 30 seconds later. As much as you would like to pretend it was surprising to receive a response so quickly, this was the normal routine the two of you had created. One needed merely call out, and the other would come running.
[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small
[Pablito]: bcs pedri doesnt have a lot of space fr bodies in his car
There it was again: the giggling, the lip bite, the stupid half smile that made you look less like Cindy Crawford and more like the Grinch after Christmas was destroyed. But it was the natural way your body reacted to Pablo - like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boyband member in a brightly-colored magazine. Lord, how were you supposed to be normal around him? Oh how wonderful it would be to have even one inkling that Pablo reacted this way when he heard from you. But in your head, he was still Pablo Gavi with capital letters, who was standing ever so coolly with a beer in hand as he laughed with his other hot rich young athlete friends. You could never picture him as he truly was, shy and puppy-like, beer not even touched as he held his phone in one hand and twirling his hoodie string in the other. He bit down on his lip as well, eyebrows together as he waited for a response. Despite the relationship that had grown for the last six months, he still held his breath slightly when he saw the three little 'typing' dots float on his screen.
[Doctora]: i don't think i can convey the full force over text
[Doctora]: i can come over and explain it to you in person tho
"Guys, I think I need to leave." Pablo said abruptly, looking up at the group of boys, causing a record-scratch moment that abruptly ended the conversation. The heated conversation over whether the Drake curse was real had screeched to a halt, and now all four of the young Barca players were staring in disbelief.
"You haven't even been here for an hour. Where the hell could you need to be right now?" It was Alejandro who spoke up, the only one of the four who was not acutely aware of the fact that Gavi was borderline prepared to give up his entire career for you. He only had a mild inkling.
"Um... one of my friends is coming to my house and I'm going to meet them.''
"Who? We know all your friends. Who is coming over?" Ale asked, draping an arm over fellow La Masia baby Ansu, who smirked at the Sevillano as well.
"Yes, Pablito. Who is it? Ilias?" Ansu asked, obviously enjoying the bright red that seeped into Gavi's face.
"Or maybe Alvaro?" Ale seemed to be enjoying this too much, smiling brightly as Pedri tried to sip his beer without suffocating due to laughter.
"If it's one of the boys, then maybe we should come with you! Beers from the convenience store are cheaper anyways."
Pablo was sweating bullets. How could he say that he wanted to run home to hear what might possibly be the most mundane story about keeping houseplants alive?
"No, no it's... someone from back home. You guys wouldn't know her-HIM! You wouldn't know him." That may have been the worst save Pablo had ever made in his life, including the time his friends made his 5'0 self play keeper in a pick up match. Pedri finally lost the battle and spit out his beer, laughing loudly with the rest of the boys.
"Bro, why can't you just admit your massive crush on the doctor already. It's honestly getting a little tiring at this point. You've been in love with her for like three months now-" Ansu started, moving towards Gavi and clapping him on the shoulder before being interrupted by Pedri, who corrected,
"More like six months actually."
"Ah! There is no way!" Now Pablo was being ping-ponged between his two school friends, trying to keep himself from imploding from embarrassment.
"Why haven't you told her yet? Seriously now." Ale asked, pulling up a chair for himself and Pablo, the group sitting back down, conversation topic having changed into something juicier.
"You forget that he like stopped hating her and then she directly got a boyfriend, right?" Pedri said, signalling for another round of stellas to be brought over to the table.
"I don't think we should order another round. I was going to-" Pablo started, trying to nervously get up. Would he be able to find a taxi? Or should he just order an Uber? Neither possibility was explored as Pedri stuck his arm out and pushed him back into his seat, where he was now firmly locked in.
"Spill your guts. The quicker you talk, the quicker you can tell her to come over. I'll drive you home."
"Should you really be driving if you're going to be drinking?" Pablo asked cautiously as the four beers were placed on the table.
"oh, no, I'm done for the night. Two are for Ale and Ansu, and the other two are for you. For, ya know, confidence."
[Pablito]: u wnna met me at my hosue in an hours
The six minute pause between the 'Read' notification and the response from Pablo had worried you slightly. It was just enough time for the anxiety to seep into your bones. Did he find your desire to see him overwhelming and (God-forbid) clingy? Was he showing the message to Pedri & Co., laughing at your desperation? The misspelling made you even more worried. The spiral of thoughts was taking a sharp turn in the downwards direction. Was he even looking at his phone while typing? You didn't want to be a burden to him during one of the rare nights he could enjoy himself.
[Doctora]: are you sure? i don't have to come over if you're busy
"See now she doesn't want to come." Pablo said, now two beers deep with one more to go so that Pedri would let him leave.
"You're so stupid, Pablo. She wants you to want her to come over." Ansu said frustratedly. Pablo was trying to say as quickly as possible in between gulps what was stopping him from confessing his feelings to you. It had gone along the lines of,
"Well, first I thought I hated her, then I realized I was attracted to her as soon as she got an awful boyfriend, then we became like friends, I guess? Then I just kind of never wanted to ever be away from her. I had a hard time picturing a future that she wasn't a part of. Like, it started to make me have this weird aching feeling in my chest. And now I want to tell her all of this but she like, sees me as a friend and has had a shit time with her male friends and I don't want to permanently traumatize someone I love."
There was definitely more beer spit into the air and on the floor than there was in anyone's mouth.
"What did you just say?!" His too schoolmates echoed loudly, while Pedri just stared at him in a shocked state.
Pablo's brain was swimming in beer bubbles, unable to connect any dots and make intelligent, let alone sit and explain the process and intricacies of figuring out that he was, in fact, in love with you. So he ignored the question, asking rather for advice as to how he could get you to come over to his house.
"I don't think she needs that much convincing, seeing as you guys literally sleep beside each other for the majority of the week."
"Pedri, please. Enough details. You're just going to sit here and casually tell us the doctor has been in Pablito's bed repeatedly and he has yet to ask her on a date? I might collapse if I hear another shocking piece of information." Ale exclaimed, one hand over his heart as he leaned over, Ansu above him in what appeared to be genuine distress for his cardiac health.
"Pablo," Pedri started, sitting up in his seat and placing his elbows on his shoulders, obviously meaning business. "Now it's time to exercise that one petite little romantic muscle in your body."
"Isn't every muscle in his body petite?" Ansu braced himself for the punch in the arm that he received, but it was softer than previous attacks. Maybe the alcohol was really hitting him.
"Does it bother you that she asked to come over?"
"No!" Pablo responded quicker than his teammates thought possible. "I always want her to come over. She doesn't even need to ask. I would give her a key to the place if she wanted. Hell, I would sign the house over in her name. Do you think I could ask her to move in with me as friends?" His foggy brain registered the laughter, but didn't quite understand it. He would love for you to be in his house, walking through the door with you every evening, eating on the couch, fighting over the comforter and cuddling in the cold.
"See now that's... kind of a lot for a girl who doesn't know you have feelings for her. Which is a whole separate issue of oblivion that we can address later. Let's edit it down. Hand me your phone."
[Pablito]: never too busy for you. see you in an hour ;)
You stared at the wink on your screen with wide eyes. Had Pablo's phone been hacked? He had sent emojis before, but usually when he was making a cheesy joke or mocking someone else. This was ... well you actually couldn't say. Calling this behavior 'weird' would really make everything you two did, like cuddling and sleeping over and trauma-dumping, seem 'weird' as well. The only time he had ever been so outwardly flirty with you was when...
[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?
[Doctora]: I'm coming over to kick ur ass
"I think I got you in trouble." Pedri said, sheepishly handing back the device. Pablo groaned, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more strongly, head spinning and stomach churning at the thought of getting scolded by you. But something in him also burned at the idea of you getting worried about him when you weren't being paid for it.
"Alright boys, let's head out so Romeo can get back to the castle on time." Pedri ushered the three tipsy boys to the car, Ansu and Ale hunched over and giggling in the back, and Pablo slumped with a cheek pressed up against the passenger window.
"Wait! I just thought of something really important!" Ale practically yelled, leaning against the car in front of his place, Ansu waiting by the door to be let in for their own sleepover and gossip session (which may become a breakfast and gossip session given their current state).
"If the doctor tries to kiss him, will Pablo have to get on his tiptoes?"
The uproar of laughter was so loud it could be categorized as a public disturbance. Ale stood, mind foggy but genuine, watching Pedri clutch both the steering wheel and his ribs. Ansu was worse for wear, falling to his knees and gripping the sidewalk for dear life, all while Pablo gripped his head in pain and embarrassment.
"Ale, please, please open the door. I'm going to piss myself laughing from the mental image. Please, Ale."
"I'm actually taller than she is, just for everyone's information." The rebuttal was coupled with crossed arms and a pout.
"With or without shoes?" Ale's follow-up question set off another round of rambunctious laughter. Pablo was now properly tipsy and overly sensitive, and was ready to go home. Ale finally let go of the coop, preventing Ansu's public urination, and Pedri could finally make his way to Pablo's place. The green vehicle pulled into the driveway, and you followed just minutes later.
"Pedri, I'm worried."
The Canarian stared at the boy beside him. That's still what Pablo was. At his young age, he was bearing the back-breaking pressure of being the best right out of the gate, and soul-crushing weight of being in love. It was more than Pedri knew himself and many of his friends able to withstand. And though he understood the sentiment clearly, he asked anyways.
"What're you worried about?"
Pablo was many thing when he had a few drinks. He was noticeably louder, more vibrant and talkative. His usual shy self loosened up, and he was much more vulnerable. He did whatever he felt like: danced, flirted with women, made bets - anything he could imagine that would make him feel alive before the liquid courage wore off and he was back to silencing the bickering voices in his head.
"I'm worried that I'm going to say something stupid and scare her off."
"Ignore what people say online, hermano. You're not actually that scary." The giggle in return allowed Pedri to breathe a little easier. He tried to push away the twinge of guilt that reminded him he had been the one to pressure Pablo to drink, and he had been the one shoving this relationship forward at a faster pace than the participants may have liked.
"No I mean... even if the 1 in a million occurs and she gives me a chance, what if I come on too strong and kill it instantly? Can you come with me?" The request and the puppy-dog look both worked to catch Pedri off guard.
"Come with you to hang out with your girl?"
"You don't have to sit with us. You can fire up the PS5 and do whatever you want. But I won't tell her I want to grow old with her like the couple in The Notebook if you're in the house."
"You want to live out the plot of The Notebook with the doctora?"
"How did you know that?" Pablo asked with wide eyes, fully convinced that the older had read his mind.
"You just told me! How much alcohol did you actually have?" Pedri was now concerned. Could he not count? Pablo had only had three beers. He didn't remember him being such a lightweight, but it probably would explain a lot.
"Ugh, see! Pedri please, I need you. Just come with me!"
Before Pedri could protest again, a small knock was heard on Pablo's window, causing both the Barca boys to jump slightly.
"Ugh, fine. But only because your gameshock controller has never been thrown into a wall."
As the two stepped out of the car, your nose was instantly assaulted with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Pablo looked at you with a red face and slightly unfocused eyes.
"Doctora! Hey!" As he moved in to give you a hug, you stepped back from him, covering your nose with the sleeve of your (Gavi's) hoodie. You looked harshly at the boys, glare flipping between the two boys.
"I can't believe you asked me to come here while you're wasted. And you! What the hell do you think you're doing driving drunk?" You yelled, and Pedri ran forward to prevent the neighbors from hearing your misconception.
"I'm not drunk! I had one beer and waited more than an hour before driving. Pablo had three beers. We smell like shit because a waitress spilled a tray full of shots at the table. Let's continue arguing inside."
You looked at them skeptically, trying to find a smidge of deceit in either of their faces. Pablo approached you and draped an arm around your shoulder. Pressed up against you, it seemed like the smell of liquor dissipated, replaced by the last traces of his cologne and his own signature scent. Leaning down slightly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your nervous system.
"Come on, Doctora. You know I'd never lie to you. Come inside now. I need to get in the shower."
Speechless and wide-eyed, you were helpless to do anything but nod your head and be lead back inside the house that you had come to know so well.
~
"I'm going to get in the shower. I think it will help me sober up a bit. And help me stop smelling like Kettle One."
"Oh."
"Don't seem so disappointed, Doctora. I'll only be gone for five minutes. You can wait for me on the balcony; you won't even miss me. Or if you really can't be without me for a single moment, I have a very large shower."
You had stared at Gavi in shock for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to process how he was being so... unadulterated with you. It reminded you of that very first night in the club, when he had stared you up and down and commended Angel on his ability to pick girls.
"Wait you have a balcony?"
That's what lead to your current situation: sitting with your knees pressed to your chest, breathing in the early April Catalan air, and staring at the beautiful view from the window. The street was illuminated in a soft yellow glow, people roaming with hands held and laughs exchanged. The moon was full, shining its beauty down onto the street, painting everything a soft silver color that contrasted with the hazes of gold. It was one of those moments you wish you could trap between plates of glass and visit at a moment's notice. One of those moments that reminded you how far you had come. That dream, that life you had worked, cried, and prayed for - you were in it right now.
The glass door slid open behind you, ending the trance as Pablo stepped out with more blankets over one arm and two mugs in hand. You took them from him, hands warmed as he draped a blue and red blanket (his favorite, unbeknownst to you) around your shoulders. He wrapped himself in a pale yellow one and took his seat next to you, legs also by his chest as he retrieved his steaming mug. Taking a sip, the thick liquid coated your tongue, sweet and rich and reminiscent of childhood.
"So you can't even boil an egg correctly, but you know how to make perfect Chocolate Caliente while tipsy? How does that make any sense?"
Turning to you, he took a pause. The wind gently pushed your hair back, allowing the moonlight to fully illuminate your eyes, and his already hazy mind struggled not to just let himself drown in them. He was beginning to sober up, but it was nowhere near how he wanted to be in your presence.
"It was my favorite breakfast as a kid. My dad used to take Aurora and I to have them for breakfast on the weekends. When I came to Barcelona, I didn't really have anyone to take care of me like that anymore, so I learned to make it myself." Pablo hadn't meant for this to be a sad story, but apparently his tone came across as such, demonstrated by your scooching over to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. No matter the cause, he accepted the invitation to lean against you, sharing your body warmth.
"Must've been hard for you, moving here alone." Your voice was far off, as if spoken to a different person and in a different time. Flashes played in your mind of teary goodbyes and security gates, only one of your parents caring enough to drive you to the airport.
"You know what it's like," Pablo responded. "You did the same thing." He wanted to life his head and look at you, but you move first, resting your temple against his, slotting perfectly together like a teacup that had found its saucer.
"Yeah but I was 18. You were what? 11?" Your voice is still heavy with a burden that Pablo can't understand. His parents had gone with him when he first moved - and you knew that. They had only gone back to Sevilla when Gavi, shy and petite little thing that he was (and remains) told them he was fine to stay in the dorm. He had made friends quick and been praised for his football skills quicker. His parents were only two hours away, and visited semi-frequently. Life at La Masia had been Disney Channel-esque. So why did you speak about it with the same somber tone as old war stories?
"I hate that you say 'I was 18' like it was a thousand years ago, Doctora."
Pablo could feel your cheeks form a wide smile, and wrapped an arm loosely around your waist as you leaned deeper into his orbit. Of all the times the two of you had been cuddly, this was quickly becoming his favorite. Because he wasn't holding you like a secret, in the dark of night when all you wanted to do was pass out. He could see you, here in his arms of your own free will, not running away, but rather leaning in. He got to sweep the hair from your eyes, and if he focused hard enough, the dull beat of your helping the tension dissipate from his bones.
It was moments like these when Pablo knew that he was wholly and completely in love. His heart didn't race around you anymore. It wa quite the opposite now: only when he was around you could his heart beat like it was intended. It felt full. Otherwise he was walking around with this tugging in his chest, begging him to drop everything and run to wherever you were. And once he arrived, he would tear the beating organ from his chest for you upon request. It was your property, anyways.
"But I was 18 like a century ago. I'm old and withered now Pablo. What you're doing now is taking care of the elderly."
His laugh in response made him fall forward, burying his head in your lap as you blushed profusely, laughter light and breathy as to not draw attention (or get him to move). His face pressed against one of your thighs, giggling a bit too hard at a very generic joke without a singular care in the world. He leans back slightly and places a kiss to your thigh, so quick and delicate you almost missed it.
"I'll always take care of you, Doctora. As long as you let me."
You couldn't bring yourself to speak at that moment, opting to instead bring a hand up to play with his hair. Gently, you wove your fingers through the locks, softly scratching at his head like the sleepy puppy he resembled in that moment.
Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.
"Remember the first time we met?"
"Vividly." The response came quickly and honestly from you, and you were banking on Pablo's slightly incapacitated state to prevent him mocking you. But it was one of those moments seared into your memory. The lights, the sweat, the deep urge to pull Pablo against you and kiss him until that perfect pout disappeared.
"You didn't think I was 18 then. It was a hard blow to my ego. I didn't want a pretty girl to think of me as a child. But now, I'm glad we met when we did."
Soft music floated in the air towards the balcony, the performers a few streets over finishing off the night with something soft and romantic to tug on the heartstrings of passing couples in hope of separating them from some Euros. Gavi lifted his head, body following shortly as he stood. He held out a hand to help you to your feet as well. "Come and dance with me." Rising, Pablo never released your hand from his, pulling you in as close as possible, keeping you pressed to him with one arm. He began swaying and you followed his lead, now your turn to rest your head on his shoulder and simply enjoy the euphoria of being in his arms. His breath was next to your ear, raising the flesh on your neck with every exhale, before finally saying,
"Because in the future when we're real senior citizens, I get to tell people I've known you my entire adult life."
You faltered slightly, stopping Gavi in his tracks as he met your eyes. God, those eyes. If only you knew the power they had over a certain Sevillano.
"You think I'll still be around when you're an old man?" You asked, trying to stay light and airy and nonchalant as your heart hammered against the confines of your ribcage.
"Of course, Doctora. Where else would you be other than beside me?"
This was it. This was the moment. You were dancing on his balcony in his hoodie as he told you that he never wanted you to leave his side. This was the time to agree, to jump and have those strong arms catch you as you said those three words that could show you the gates of heaven or the depths of hell. You traced shaking fingers down one of his biceps, eyes meeting as with ragged breath you began.
"Pablo..."
The response was the sound of the glass door being shoved open, causing the two of you to jump a foot apart. Pedri stood there, cheeks flushed like when Xavi played him all 120 minutes.
"Pablito!! You had a case of beer in the fridge to reward me for being the DD!" This man was on another planet, bringing you back down to earth.
"You should get him to bed. I need to get going anyways."
"No!" The protest was louder than anticipated, startling both you and Pedri, who had gotten bored of playing sober FIFA and may have over-indulged when Pablo's balcony date with you entered its second hour.
"I mean, I'll get him to bed. You haven't told me your story yet. I would hate for you to leave without finishing the reason why you came. Wait for me on the couch, I'll be five minutes."
There was a pause, almost a reluctance from you to break the strong eye contact. He knew that there was something else you wanted to say. There was always something left unsaid between the two of you. He watched your form disappear down the stairs as he guided Pedri to his room (he didn't want his soon-arriving sister to sleep on dirty sheets). "You have the worst timing imaginable, hermano." Pablo muttered out, blood boiling at how the evening had gone from 200 back down to zero in a matter of seconds. When did he even put a case of beer in the fridge? Neither of you were drinkers. His fridge was always stocked with every delight and craving you had mentioned in passing.
"You told me to make sure you didn't say anything stupid." Pedri responded, making Gavi squint at him in suspicion. He must have not as been as out of it as he let on.
"Yeah but I think she- nevermind. Go to sleep."
"Calm down Pablito. It's not like I interrupted your first kiss."
Forcing himself to take a deep, self-soothing breath, Pablo turned from his inebriated friend and shut the door.
Making your way to the living room, you once again filled your senses with the boyish football decor of the living room. Checking to make sure he wasn't coming down the stairs, you sped over to the front door. The pictures on the wall remained as they were previously: childhood, family, football. Your heart sank slightly at the thought of your Christmas present sitting ripped and crumpled at the bottom of his club-issued backpack. You turned back into the living room, making your way to the couch.
Flopping on the soft material, you kicked your feet up on the table, glancing over to look at his obnoxiously large Barca book. And there, sitting on top of it, was a simple black frame, slightly dented in one corner like it had been dropped. The frame held the two of you, angry and standoffish and forever frozen in that moment before the floodgates had been irreversibly opened. He had framed it. Pablo Gavi, the busiest boy in football right now, had decided you were worth the frame and the position front and center on his favorite book.
"So, what was so groundbreaking you needed to see my reaction in person?" His question snapped you out of your trance, and you sprung up from your place on the sofa, needing to get the photo out of your field of vision for your own sanity. Making a B-line to the fridge, the cold was inviting to your flushed face. Fruit, bread, cheese, cold cuts - no Spanish boys here. Just the comfort of food.
"Do you want a sandwich?"
~
"There's no way you said that to her! Who are you and what have you done with the Doctora I know?" Despite his reprimand, the beautiful boy before you joined in the fits of giggles that had taken over you. Having deprived yourself of a decent meal for the last week due to work (they had finally handed over all of Antonio's medical notes and they were in shambles), you fixed yourself and Pablo the most impressive sandwich you had ever conjured in your adult life. After filling his arms with every possible accompaniment, he plopped himself beside you on the couch, crossing his legs so his knee rested against yours. Before he got comfortable, he jumped up, stating he had forgotten something.
"I got these for you." The jar he placed on the table was filled with green liquid, and as you leaned in closer to inspect the label, your eyes lit up.
"You... bought me a jar of pickles?"
"Yeah. Remember one time you said you liked them so I got these. They look like the same jar." That's when you let yourself burst into tears.
The hour following had been you and Pablo in various states: his arm around you as you cried into his shoulder about how shit the people in your life had been, then hunched over plates stuffing your faces and joking around, and finally the current one of eating pickles and chips and whatever else was on the table as you recounted your demonic phone call.
"I did but like I've wanted to say it to her for months now! You don't understand, Pablo, because you're friends with the amazing, caring, thoughtful being that is me." More giggles as he shoved a pillow into you, smile so bright it could light up the entire first floor. He was never afraid to be like this around you: silly and playful and just comfortable.
"La la Doctora, ladies shouldn't use such foul language." It was your turn to shove his shoulder, probably causing you more damage than him due to the rock-solid muscle.
"Thanks papa, appreciate the advice. But like seriously, she asked me to drive her to Madrid one weekend - as in like Madrid five hours away - to go to a specific store. You know what she bought there? Buttons. 10 hours of my life and a hell of a lot of gas so she could get buttons! And it's not like I expected anything in return-"
"No of course not. It's just when you do nice things for people and are kind to them, you want them to act the same. Treat others how you want to be treated." Pablo bit his tongue there, scared he would sound immature or stupid. You were several years his senior in age and education, and the last thing he wanted was for you to water-down your feelings because you thought he wouldn't understand.
"Right?! See, you get it! And I just, ugh, I feel kinda bad because like she didn't really do anything directly. Like yeah her show and stuff but there wasn't really a moment or like a fallout." You moved towards Pablo, leaning on his shoulder as the moment took a more serious turn.
"But that's the whole point isn't it? That she didn't do anything, she was just kind of there and reaping all the benefits of friendship with no effort. And-"
"Doctora, can I interrupt you for a minute?" You felt Pablo's shoulder dip slightly, and disappointed as you were, took the sign to lift your head.
"Sorry I didn't mean to take over your personal sp-"
"Ay shut up about my personal space. I'd handcuff you to me if I had the chance." He quickly looked away from you, processing his comment after he had said it. Nice one Gavito - real friendly. He moved some of the cushions to the end of the couch by the arm rest, kicking off the more decorative ones and leaning down. Honey eyes looked at you between thick lashes, and patted the narrow sliver of space beside him. Rolling his eyes at the confused raising of your brow, he verbalized his request.
"Come lay next to me while you rant."
Oh. Oh. Had he ever asked you outright to cuddle with him? The first time, you had been the instigator. You had taken that leap off the bridge - no, the cliff - and yet there he had been, warm and welcoming, catching you with grace. Ever since then, there had really been no words. Talking about his desires and feelings didn't come naturally to Pablo, and so he steered clear of them all together. It was always something unspoken: he would be at your apartment and just follow you down the hall when you declared it to be bedtime. Or when you had spent too much time at the Gavira house watching reruns of the same telenovela, and Gavi just switched the TV off and guided you up the stairs. No matter the location it was always the same. Him on the right side, you on the left, but both magnetically drawn to the center and one another. You slotted into his side, head on his heart, and stabilized by his embrace. Sometimes he wore a shirt - most times he didn't. He hugged you a little closer whenever you were in his clothing, trying to dispense his scent onto it anew and make sure you would think of him whenever there was a breeze. But there were never words. Only feelings and longing gazes and that same settled silence.
"You want me to?"
"Why would I ask if I didn't want you to? Last time you fell asleep on my shoulder you almost broke your neck. Now if you fall asleep you will only be semi-sore in the morning. I mean you don't have to if you-"
"No. I mean yes. I mean no I don't not want to do that."
"Is your Spanish getting worse or did that make no sense?"
You sighed in defeat, laying beside Pablo on the couch, sinking into the fabric and into him. One of his arms was acting as your pillow, and his hand made its way upwards to softly play with your hair, an instant soother. Body turning inwards toward him, your arms were up and palms gently pressed to his chest.
"Am I too close?" You asked, Pablo's previous comment about wanting to be physically attached to you seemed to have evaporated from your mind. His second arm fell around your waist, pulling you closer in. Your thigh was now pressed between his legs, and you both seemed to hold your breath for a moment. The alarms went off in his brain while his eyes held yours. He just stared at you. That's all he ever really wanted to do nowadays. He unfroze and shook his head before prompting you to continue your story.
"Oh, right - where was I?"
"She never put any effort into the relationship."
"Oh, right." You sat up to grab one of the blankets, draping the warmth on the tangled mess of limbs, and laying back down. It was not lost on you that Pablo, despite all the jokes, had listened intently to every word you had said. Nothing Pablo did, from the way he shifted his misaligned hips to his soft breathing to the way his fingers traced shapes in your side, was ever lost on you.
"So..." and on continued your rant for about an hour. It was a different kind of catharsis to speak about your pain and receive empathy in response. To be told that the feelings poisoning your spirit were ones that had been planted and could be weeded out. It was a relief that also brought about a tiredness, where once your emotions were freed, your eyelids grew substantially heavier. But the fingers remained soothing against your hair, twisting and smoothing the locks. He pushed a few stray pieces from your face, smiling at the sleepy state on your face.
"Excited for this last month of the season?" The short international break had allowed for the season to be neatly wrapped up by the first week of May, with the Champions League final and awards ceremonies following directly after.
"Mhm," you hummed back, eyes now fully closed and cheek pressed against Pablo's warm skin. "But it's not really a month for me. It's more like a week left of the season. Copa Del Rey in three days, then you score a screamer in the net at home to win La Liga three days later. Once the season is decided, I'm back at school for practical exams." The vibration in his chest reverberated throughout your entire being, and your semi-sleeping form nuzzled deeper into Pablo, which neither of you thought possible. Fingers tightened around the semi-exposed skin of your waist, and he felt a sensation akin to weilding fire at will. Knowing full well the flames could engulf him in a torturous inferno, but oh how beautiful to hold and let dance at the tips of his fingers.
"So we have two more matches with you?"
"Three if you choke again and let the other borderline relegation team score three goals." He tugged lightly at your hair as a reprimand, your smile spreading against his neck.
"I wasn't even on the field for the full 90 minutes last game. Don't worry, we're bringing home both trophies this week. And you're getting that screamer of a goal. Make sure to record it so I can gloat forever." A gentle nod and a hum, but the sleep was slowly seeping into your senses.
"So after that, what? What's next?"
"Well you already know that Xavi offered me a permanent position for when I graduate next year. So I'm at the club on automatic placement renewal. He he I was the first one in my class to get it."
"Of course you were, Doctora. You're the best there is." Warm cheeks yet again. Pablo must think you're a natural furnace, not realizing that his sticky sweet compliments were always triggering the "Heart Overheating" alarms in your mind.
"You think too highly of me. I'll see you when you come back for preseason medicals and training. They might let me run it this year. Oh, and at the Bondor. I'll be there, too."
"At the what?"
"The Bondor." You repeated, unaware of how much you were mumbling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Slow down for me, Doctora. One word at a time. Where will I see you?"
"Ballon. D'or." You repeated for the third time as slowly as possible. It was too hard to stay awake now, and let yourself slip fully into the depth of relaxation, tangled in a web of warm Pablo, basking in this moment where you could just rest contently.
Pablo on the other hand was now on high alert. There had been a lot of commotion in the club when the nominations were announced. Pedri had pulled up the livestream on the projector, the entire squad waiting with baited breath for the categories of interest. There mutters all around about how the whole ceremony was a scam and had royally screwed over Robert, but who was going to turn down the honor? You had seen the stampede (led of course by Luca, who was always at the head of any effort to get out of doing his job) and followed quickly, afraid someone else had passed out. The players had been pushing themselves to stay miles above Madrid in the league, and it was taking a real toll. You looked up at the ceiling as you speed-walked, praying that everyone (especially Dembele) was okay. You would really like a calm week.
"Now, the nominees for the Kopa Trophy, awarded to the best player under 21 years of age..."
Ansu caught your eye as you entered and waived you over, instructing you to sit with him and the other young Barca boys. Gavi had been given a seat in the middle, the throne of the meeting room, as the murmurs circulated once again. You hadn't been aware that Pablo was a contender for this award - not surprised, but your schedule didn't allow you to keep on on Twitter as you once had. You wrung your fingers, heart hammering as the presenter spoke with that slow TV drawl that made everyone want to commit arson.
"Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Bukayo Saka, Eduardo Camavinga, Gavi-"
You were sure there were other nominees, but the shouts of joy and thunderous claps on Gavi's shoulders prevented any more information from entering your ears. The coaching staff and older players commended him on the achievement, and you had to wait until the room was essentially cleared to stick out your hand and offer a congratulatory message.
"Are we doing handshakes now?" He asked, eyes flitting between you and Pedri's gossip circle occupying the far corner.
"It feels more professional. This is a professional achievement after all."
""I haven't achieved anything yet." He said shaking your hand firmly and lingering much longer than was appropriate for the workplace (and 'friends').
"What are you talking about? You've been nominated! That's huge in itself given that a lot of your teammates also qualify for that award."
"Yeah but Pedri snatched it last year. They won't hand it over to the same club two years in a row."
"Doesn't Messi have like 27 Ballon D'ors in a row?"
"Please don't use Leo as an example. I am just a regular human being." As the two of you made your way into the hall, out of the line of sight of Pedri's tea spilling team, the laughter and teasing died down. You turned to Pablo, bringing one hand to rest on his arm, smoothing the fabric of his training jacket with your fingers as you looked up at him.
"You're a brilliant player, Pablo. One of the best this club has ever seen. You are incredible and have the brightest future ahead of you, and I just hope I get to be a part of it. That award it yours - I can feel it. But even if it isn't, don't sell yourself short. You amaze me every day."
This was the best news since his promotion to the first team. He had been pushing the Paris trip to the far recesses of his brain, a bout of nausea and anxiety striking him every time he conjured the thought of walking down that carpet or speaking on stage. But now you were going to be there. You would see him in the finest suit D&G would lend him, hair perfectly gelled down (he would need a trim). And he let himself ever so briefly entertain the fantasy of you watching him win. Of the announcer calling out his name, the crowd rising to their feet in deafening applause as he accepted the trophy from Pedri. He would look out into the crowd and see you there, sending a wink your way before thanking everyone who helped him achieve this, especially the medical staff. He drifted off to sleep replaying this scenario in his head, a trophy in one arm and the girl of his dreams in the other.
Pedri woke up with a minor headache in the morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows directly into his eyes. He would be buying Pablo some blackout curtains for Christmas. Descending from his place, he walked across it: a real sight to behold. You and Gavi were tangled together on the couch, legs an absolute mess with the blanket pooled around them. Your head was on his chest, face nuzzled upward into his neck. Your hands were fisting his shirt, as if afraid someone would rip him from your clutches. Pablo wasn't much better. He had his arms wrapped around you, one on the back of your head and one around your waist. He had managed to pull you on top of him in the night, his back flat on the sofa and your weight pooled on his chest and bringing him tranquility. His lips rested against your forehead, his face perfectly positioned with yours. He held you tight against him, and your unconscious form rose and fell with each of his deep and even breaths. Despite his best efforts, Pedri couldn't stop himself from snapping a picture of the moment. Thank God his ringer was always off. He did have enough self restraint to prevent him from sharing the photo with his group chat with Ansu, Ale, Eric, and surprisingly Robert (he just likes to be included). The name had changed numerous times in the last several months, and was now simply called "friendship" my ass for obvious reasons. He knew this would be a picture Pablo and you would look back on fondly when one was finally courageous enough to just let go. But until then, it sat safely in his hidden folder, and he tiptoed out the door, sparing one last look at the pair of you, sleeping more deeply than well-fed toddlers. The tension in Pablo's face was gone. Pedri hoped it would stay that way.
~
"And we are just minutes from kicking off what could be the league-winning match for Barcelona here in Spotify Camp Nou! Set to be an exciting game against Atletico Madrid, and the crowd is absolutely on fire."
"Just as well, Peter. I mean Barcelona have the ability to make this an incredible three trophy season right here today. They're coming off a massive win against Sevilla in the Copa Del Rey final, at home for what could be the league winner, and the performances we're going to see today are going to be full energy full power now that the Ballon D'Or nominee list has been announced."
"That's right we have Robert Lewandowski shortlisted for the titular award after two incredible seasons at Bayern Munich. We also have Pedri potentially passing the 'Golden Boy' torch onto his fellow midfielder Gavi, who has had an absolutely stellar season."
"Who can forget about that performance in the Supercopa, Peter. Three goal contributions in a Classico no less, the likes of which we haven't seen since Leo Messi stepped up to the plate, and we all know how that played out. He's really been putting in amazing performances week after week, and the most surprising thing is the level of health Barca have been able to maintain. For a team riddled with injuries all of last season, it is a miracle turnaround. Kick off right here after the break."
The tunnel was always busy right before kick off, but today it was quadruple-fold. You weren't sure if Barca was just extra confident in a victory today, but the media passes had tripled, and everyone was eager to get candids of the young blaugrana boys. You were pushing through people's shoulders, 'excuse-me' shifting very quickly into 'get out of the way' as you made your way to the players line up to adjust resistance tape and back braces. You were in the official physio uniform today, Nike jacket hugging your skin and tucked neatly into your trousers. The entire staff had been gifted with a new pair of cleats with the date on one side and a number of their choice on the other.
"I'm assuming 6 for you?" You had been caught off guard by the assumption from the brand rep.
"Why would you assume that? Have other players been telling you things about me?" You must have looked genuinely afraid and shocked, as the rep raised his hands in innocence, face going pale.
"No no no. I have absolutely no idea who you are. You have a 6 on your hoodie, so I thought you would want something to match."
It was discreet, a small black number on the back of your heel, and yet it was the only thing that Gavi could see as you worked to adjust Frenkie's shoulder. Did all of you have numbers? Were they in order, yours just happening to fall in the 6th position? Were there even 6 people on the physio team? His eyes stayed on your shoes until they were in front of his. He looked up to meet you raised brow.
"Why are you staring? Your shoes are nicer than mine."
Turning around, he let you test his hip alignment as he allowed himself to speak away the nerves buzzing throughout his system.
"Think we're going to win?"
"I always think you're going to win. I'm just waiting for that incredible goal you promised last week."
"What, the three goal contributions in the Supercopa weren't enough for you? You have high standards, Doctora."
"Of course. That was back in January. It's April now, Pablo. I want you to make my last game good." As you released him from your grip, he turned to face you, putting both hands on your shoulders. A few players turned their heads, but only for a cursory glance.
"If I score today, you let me pick you up as a celebration."
"Are you allowed to do that?"
"Who's going to stop me?"
"One of your fangirls might dive onto the field and tackle me."
"I have faith in you, Doctora. You seem like a fast runner."
"Always nice to have your unwavering support. Deal. Better be a good goal."
"A screamer."
You moved onto Pedri, who was next in the numerical line up, and his eyebrows did all the talking for him. You muttered a quick 'good luck' before continuing your duties in the remaining minutes before they walked out for the match.
"What a friendly little deal you've made, hermano." He leaned over and said, but the players began walking before Pablo could respond. Post -anthem, you took your place on the sidelines, jittery from the electric energy ricocheting around the stadium. No Joao for Gavi to shove around, but Griezmann was going to be a problem. The first half was rough and fast-paced, but remained scoreless. As the players came off for half time, you were instructed to help out the ones with high muscle tension. Passing Pablo, you placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear, quick and soft: "Looks like I'm staying seated all game."
Pablo turned just in time to watch you scamper off, a smirk on his lips. Pablo loved a challenge, and it was all the better to have it come from you. He had a couple opportunities during the first half, but he was scared of getting fouled too early on. Now was the time were he was able to push, with the anxiety from the beginning of the game shaken off. He tuned back into Xavi's pep talk and instructions for the second half, lips still upturned.
The media was always puffing up players, but it was true that Pedri was a magician with the ball. There was something captivating about the way he calmly danced between players, maneuvering skillfully. A pass to Araujo, then back to him. The roar of the crowd was dulled by the thrum of your heart and the snapping as you bit at your nails in anticipation. The boys had been pressing hard, and a score seemed eminent. Pedri lifted his head, looking for his striker. Lewa was locked up on the right. It seemed the moment to move back, alleviate the press and recalculate. But then a flash of blue and red streaked across his vision and his foot reacted faster than his brain. Minute 85, a scoreless game, and a ball crossed high and fast towards the menace that was Gavi. His foot connected in the far left corner of the box and there it went, screaming past the goalie's fingertips before nestling in the top corner of the net.
An explosion. You were the slowest person to react, slack jawed as the other physios shoved and shook you in celebration. Hands coming to his chest, he gripped the crest like it was a crown jewel, looking right as you as he brought it to his lips, kissing it with a force and passion that had flowed in him since he was 11 years old. He ran towards you, teammates following swiftly, and suddenly there were arms around your thighs as he lifted you. He bounced you in the air as his teammates clapped him on the shoulders, congratulating him and showering him with the well-deserved praise. You looked down, hands rested on Pablo's shoulders. His gaze was locked with yours. you wanted to tease him or commend him but there were no words. He released you, pointing at ou before taking his position.
They lifted the trophy shortly after, the players looking like children as they danced and sang in a circle. The players all took their turns squeezing the living daylights out of you.
"Doctora!" It was Dembele who called out to you, waving you over. Under the watchful eyes of his coaches, Gavi was more careful not to get too close to you (even though he had just Lion-King lifted you during the game).
"Come take a picture with all your patients and their trophy!" The request was made with laughs all around as you stood behind the trophy, Ousmane on one arm and Pedri on the other. Balde and Ansu got into the photo as well, arms all around each other.
"Gavi! Get in here! You're the one with the most clinic hours." Ousmane called out to him as well. He blushed as he walked (waddled) over, stopping to pick up the trophy and dropping it into your hands.
"This is your achievement too, Doctora. You should be proud." Pedri shoved him in beside you, claiming it helped 'balance the photo'. The flash went off twice. Once with Pablo paying attention to the camera, smiling brightly having just won MOTM in their league decider. The second was almost identical, but his head was turned to you. The smile was softer, the eyes kinder. He looked at you like the ultimate prize. As he said his goodbyes to you, promising not to miss you too much in the month you would be seperated, he realized one thing: he was going to need more frames.
~
@gaviraconcubine: ok i thot it was stupid but maybe gavi is actually w his physio???? just look at them
1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies
@blaugranaboy: if you FEMALES knew anything, you would know barca has had shit physios and is always getting injured. since she came on staff they staying healthy. i would pick her ass up to
@barbiebalde: @blaugranaboy *too. Sexist AND bad english? pick a struggle
@88rizzing: ok but theres also pics of her out with pedri at a prada store so idk anymore???????
@gavitaylorsversion: her instagram is private :( can someone drop clearer pictures of her
You had been through some difficult situations in the last ten months, but these practical exams were the biggest challenge you had faced in your existence. 8am to 8pm lectures for two weeks, followed by a week straight of performing concussion protocols, lifting stiff boards, and demonstrating a whopping 6 different types of sutures had finally come to an end. It was May 5th, the final day of your exams, and three days before your flight to Paris for the ceremony. Your phone had been discarded for practically the entirety of the month, logged out of all social media and having your focus set to only let through emergency calls (and, of course, texts from Pablo). They had been less frequent given his understanding of your schedule.
[Pablito]: i know you have stitches today. Good luck <3
[Pablito]: Kounde asked about you today. He hasn't realized you've been missing the last two weeks. He really isn't on this planet
[Pablito]: the finale of our show came on last night. I recorded it so we can watch it together after your exams.
And now the most recent one had come through:
[Pablito]: Congrats on surviving the epic battle of your practical exams. I sent you dinner. Have a great night!
The doorbell rang in some scary accurate timing, and you graciously accepted the package from the delivery driver. Sitting on your couch to watch any comedic show that would help you decompress. The bag was huge, and seemingly filled to the brim with containers. Pasta, pizza, two types of bread, fried chicken, and three slices of cake (chocolate, cheesecake, and tres leches). There was also a bottle of sugar-free soda, for balance apparently. As you picked up your phone to ask Pablo if you were meant to feed the whole building, another text popped up on your screen.
[Santa Naranja]: Hi! I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the stylist who worked with Pedro for his Prada shoot? I got this number from him. You should yell at him for giving out your number so easily.
[Santa Naranja]: Anyways, I just got the list for the Ballon D'Or ceremony and I saw your name on there. How exciting! My company is styling Barca for the event, and I wanted to reach out personally to see what you would be interested in wearing.
[Santa Naranja]: Because I'm assuming you don't want to be in a suit? But I could be wrong.
You replied instantly, telling her how grateful you were for contacting you. You had been planning on wearing one of your old wedding-guest dresses, not having the time to go pick up something else. The two of you arranged to meet tomorrow at her studio, and you went back to your original mission: snapping a picture and sending it to Gavi.
He opened the message instantly, feeling all warm and fuzzy staring at the food spread on your lap and his old shirt hanging off your shoulders. You hair was up, face bare, and he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss you on the forehead.
[Doctora]: thanks for the food, pablito <3 see u in paris
"Ouch!" He yelled out, taken out of his daydream by a needle shoved into his wrist. "Pedri! Tell your friend to be gentle."
"First of all, we're not friends-"
"We're not?" Pedri asked the stylist, the smoke practically rising from her ears. She glared at him, looking extra menacing with the pins between her teeth.
"No. We're not. You're only allowed to be here if you're silent, remember? And second of all we are tailoring your suit sleeves. You're going to get stabbed if you keep moving your arms! Now hold still. She's still going to be there in 15 minutes for you to gush over."
"How did you know who I was talking to?" Pablo asked, genuine shock and curiosity across his features.
"Oh please, for the love of God, don't tell me you think you're being subtle?!"
~
"Hi! Come in come in! I didn't even realize it was raining."
Santa Naranja was, as you had recently discovered, not just Pedri's stylist. She wasn't even a Prada stylist. She was now a senior assistant stylist for Style Di Fortuna, a global firm that worked to style celebrities for different events. Since Herno and D&G started dressing the club, management had received official notice regarding their event attire.
"You should have seen the letter they sent. It was like a scolding from the school principal. 'Players must be formally and professionally styled during all official events as to avoid conflict in brand image and the tarnishing of the brand's respectability. Can you imagine dressing so poorly that you could ruin the reputation of an entire brand? Although I shouldn't expect any less. Pedro's jorts could bring about doomsday."
It was the other girls in the office that had given her the nickname 'Santa' for her saint-like patience in dealing with Pedri for... reasons. She was a completely different person when his cheshire cat smile and bushy brows were not in the room. She was calm and fun and humorous. She scurried around the workshop, pouring you a cup of cinnamon tea loaded with sugar, before running back into a warehouse closet and throwing about twenty garment bags over her arms.
"Did you have anything in mind for your look? I know that the club must have given you some basic guidelines, but what about your personal style?"
"Oh yeah, they came with the invitation. Long skirt, no slit, no trains, no plunging necklines, no open backs, no beading or gems, no appliques, and no bright colors."
The poor stylist stopped in her tracks, returning virtually every dress she had in her hands.
"Okay, let's go to the nun section of the closet. What colors would you like? Keep them boring and muted." You giggled at the remark, rattling off a list of colors. She either hummed in agreement or gave a slight pause, allowing you time to retract the wrong choice. Green, red, and white were all off the table, seeing as the wags had already claimed them.
"What's Gavi's favorite color?" She teased, shoving a garment bag at you and ushering you behind the separator to change.
"Haha, very funny. I'm not going as his date."
"You can add the 'unfortunately' to the end of that. I won't judge you."
"Sure. It's unfortunate I'm not Pablo's date in the same way it's unfortunate that you're not Pedri's."
"Please don't speak such wicked thoughts about me and Pedro into the universe."
After cycling through about 15 dresses, the weight of the event and the pressure of traveling in two days was beginning to weigh on you, a tightness settling into your chest and disrupting your breathing.
"I'm going to look so stupid at this event. Nothing looks good." You huffed as you resisted the urge to face plant into the million euro pile of fabric on the floor. Your companion huffed as well, racking her brain for any guidance on how to dress you without making you look like a churchly sister or a plastic bag.
"Okay. Do you know anything about fashion?" She asked. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a kindergarten teacher asking a poor 6-year old if they knew how to tie their shoes.
"I try and keep up."
"If you could pick any look from the last like 10 years on the runway that you would wear to this event, what would it be?"
"I can't afford-"
"Not telling you to buy it. Just imagine. If you could wish a dress into your hands right now, what would it be?"
You sat and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since you separated yourself from the imposed masculine nature of your job. Your hair stayed up, your nails stayed short, your face always painted naturally (you had gotten dress-coded for winged eyeliner once). It had been years if not a complete decade since you allowed your thoughts to be pink and flowery. You had put girlhood on pause, allowed it to hibernate for the harsh winter war of professional success. But now it was spring, and the blossoms emerged once again. You weren't a physio going for a meeting. You were a princess preparing for her magical night in Paris, your fairy standing before you. This was one of those moments where you just had to take a pause. You had worked to hard to make it here. Now that you were here, enjoy it.
"Well, Viktor and Rolf had the most gorgeous tulle dresses ad fashion week. They were all strapless and tight at the top, and they had these beautiful full skirts and velvet ribbons. If I was a wag or a footballer accepting my own award, I would wear that." You said, still allowing the rose color of your imagination to tint your reality. You entertained the thought briefly that this is the first time Pablo would see you properly dolled up, and it made you want to squeal and kick your feet like a girl waiting for prom.
"Oh my God you're so smart!" She yelled, running back into the dark passage of the closet. She returned a moment later with a black fabric bag, gold filigree embossed onto the material. She hung and began to unzip, unveiling the most beautiful dress you had ever seen in your life. It was a pale nude, almost the color of beach sand, with a fitted corset top that came down to the top of the hip bone. It then flares slightly into a layered tulle skirt, the color solid except for one band of pale blue that wrapped around the skirt, the waist accentuated with a velvet bow in the same dusty blue. You reached out one shaking hand to smooth down the fabric, almost afraid it would disintegrate in your touch. (dress inspo for those interested)
"Bouguessa just sent us this. It's more subtle than the Viktor and Rolf ones, it goes with gold and silver jewelry, won't draw too much attention, and follows that ridiculous novel of rules." She said, hands on her hips behind you.
"I can't wear this." You said, trembling at the very thought of spilling a drop of... well anything really on this dress.
"You can and you will. We had it shorted for some actress wearing it in Cannes later this month, so wear nice shoes. Nothing too tall though - Pablo is 5'7 after all." You turned to her, and the face she had expected to smile back at her held eyes welling with tears. You pulled her against you, too fast for her to process, and let the tears stream down your cheeks.
"I have never had anyone be so kind to me. I can't thank you enough."
"I'm just letting you borrow a dress," she said, arms wrapping around you as well. "Do you not have friends?"
"Let's not open that can of worms."
~
"Hi, Dr. Gonzalez. You wanted to see me?" Your head peaked in ever so slightly to catch his hand waving you over. Despite knowing on a deep psychological level that he respected you as a professional, he still scared the bejeezus out of you.
"Yes. I forgot to give you your passes for tonight's flight. You'll be able to use this to get directly into the lounge and then on the jet we have chartered this evening."
"The... what?"
"How were planning on getting to Paris exactly, Miss y/n?" He took off his small glasses, a gesture to emphasize how stupid you were being at the present.
"I was going to take the train in tomorrow?" You responded extremely unsure of yourself.
"Take the train in the morning of the ceremony? Oh this generation. No foresight. You'll meet the team in the lounge at exactly 8pm this evening."
"So what I'm hearing is... I'm going on the private jet with Xavi and the squad?"
"Yes."
"And my accomodation..?"
"You will have a room in the hotel on the same floor as the rest of the team. Any other logistical questions? Do I need to explain what the Ballon D'Or is?"
"No, no, of course not. Thank you so much Dr. Gonzalez. I'll be sure to represent Barca well as an organization that loves women!" You got up hastily from your chair, exiting the office with Dr. Gonzalez yelling behind you.
"We didn't send you because you're a woman! Don't say that to any reporters!"
The Barcelona airport was, in your opinion, nothing special. That was until the woman at the check-in desk saw your badge and personally guided you past security and into a private Air France lounge. The room was decked out in plush sofas and chaise lounges, soft spa music bouncing between the walls. Enough food to feed the entire terminal had been laid out on stone and marble platters, and three girls in matching dark blue uniforms strolled around the room, waiting to be flagged down for assistance. This was nice. Maybe gold digging was really the best choice. It's a miracle that not everyone on the quad had Ferran-sized heads if this was the treatment they were used to.
"Ay look who finally made it." The voice greeting you belonged to Xavi, who was the first to stand up and embrace you. You greeted the rest of the group and introduced yourself to both Xavi and Robert's wives, thinking it more appropriate to sit with the other women on the trip. You chatted with them until it was time to board, at which point you could no longer exercise self control. You walked up to Pablo, tapping him on the shoulder.
He couldn't suppress his smile when he saw you, and Anna whispered to her husband how you had not introduced yourself as Gavi's girlfriend.
"Well, they're not together. She's a physio at the club."
"He looks at her like he's in love."
"Yeah. Everyone has noticed except the two of them."
Fighting the urge to stuff you into his hoodie so you could never disappear for a month again, Pablo opted to instead put one arm around you, embracing you in a tight side hug. You two walked onto the plane together, effectively abandoning Pedri, while catching up on everything that had gone on since your last meeting. He sat beside you on one of the couches, spinning around to lay with his legs on top of you, which were swiftly pushed off. The two of you now sat side by side, eating from a bag of sour gummies.
"I missed you." He said softly as you watched Barcelona grow smaller and smaller beneath you. You turned back to him resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. A lot more than I thought I would." There was no more talk after that. No mention of feelings or trophies or anything really. Just sour bears and that telenovela finale he promised to watch with you.
The clock in the hotel lobby read 11:44pm as you fought with Pablo to try and carry your own bag in. Well, fought is a vague term - you tugged on his bicep while he dragged you and your suitcase inside.
"We're only here for two days - what on Earth could you have brought?" He asked, letting out an exaggerated huff as he set it down on its wheels.
"Makeup is heavy, my dress is heavy, my shoes are heavy - society's beauty standards are just weighing me down at every turn." He smiled back at you, your fingers itching to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the tip of his nose and tell him that he had a smile that could bring cities to their knees.
"Pedri! Gavi!"
You turned around to the source of the voice, watching Pedri embrace a very tall and very familiar Spaniard. As he made his way over to Gavi, he gave you a once over that indicated his brain was still trying to figure out who you were. As his hand connected with Gavi's, it was like the electricity had switched back on.
"Oh, hey! You came and interviewed at Chelsea. Convince her to stay then, hermanito?" he clapped Gavi on the back of the neck.
"No, I didn't have to say anything. She spent an afternoon with you guys and came running back to the better club." You smiled shyly, feeling a little awkward at your once potential club interacting with the one you had chosen to stay at. You stepped to the side, noticing Perdi deep in conversation with someone else. Tan, tall, and beautiful, he turned to you, smiling wide and approaching.
"Ah hello again." You were in a hug before you knew it. You reciprocated, wishing one of the boys would take a photo so you could send it to ever girl in your high school.
"Joao! Great to see you again. How have you been?" He pulled away, hands still on your upper arms as he ranted to you about his difficult second half of the season had been. Pablo sat back, loosely listening to the exchange between Pedri and Kepa, with most of his energy focused on seething at the sight in front of him. Joao had talked to you for what? An hour? Why did he feel so comfortable touching you like this? His tongue found purchase in his cheek, his arms crossed over his chest. Xavi tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the key cards for your three, giving him a perfect excuse to break up your conversation.
"Here you go, Doctora. This one's yours. Doing well Joao?" There was an obvious hint of animosity in his voice that was evident to the both of you. Nevertheless, Joao released you to shake Gavi's hand.
"I saw you on TV the other day getting picked up by this one. Twitter went crazy speculating about you two dating. You guys.. aren't dating, right?" Joao directed the question to you, now fully turned away from Gavi, whose body temperature had exceeded 100 degrees.
"No, no. We're..." your eyes flashes to him, "just friends".
"I guess anyone would be grateful to have someone like you caring for their wellbeing. A shame that you didn't come over to us for this season. But I may get the privilege if I can get Xavi to place a bid on me." Pablo let out a laugh that was too loud and enthusiastic to be polite. If Joao had been offended, he didn't let it on.
"Oh, Mason is here, too! We're going out with him and his friend Jude for drinks here at the hotel bar. You should come with us! You can come too, Gavi- oh wait, are you even old enough to drink?" The question was punctuated with a smirk, an obvious rebuttal to Gavi's humor at him joining the club.
"I'm flattered but I need to get some rest for tom- wait Jude as in Bellingham?" You asked, eyes wide.
"Of course. Know any other Jude's being nominated?" You heard Gavi breathing loud and heavy beside you, taking this as your cue to call it a night. Before you left, Joao grabbed your wrist, taking a look at your card.
"Floor three. Same as us. Maybe we'll see you around." He hugged you once more as a good night, then headed over to Mason, who waved at the group of you with Jude beside him. You made your way to the elevator with Gavi and felt embarrassed. You hadn't even done anything but be polite, but in some way you felt like you had committed a sin in talking so freely with Joao. Engrossed in thought, your face met Gavi's back as he suddenly stopped in front of a door.
"This is my room. I'll see you tomorrow." You stopped him in his tracks, one hand preventing him from crossing the threshold.
"Are you mad at me?" You asked, voice soft and even, trying to disguise the hurt.
"I- no, of course not, Doctora. Just nervous. Didn't think I'd be seeing my competition tonight." You pulled him into a hug, hands around his waist and your head on his chest with his above it. He let out a shaky breath, and all his fears with them. Joao had invited you out and yet you were still here, in his arms and in front of his door.
"Will I see you tomorrow? Before the 'big show'?" He asked, keeping you against his chest, just for a moment longer.
"Staff aren't allowed on the carpet so I'll see you inside the theater."
"Don't sit next to Joao tomorrow." He said with a slight pout, and you wanted to just pull him down and kiss him so hard he lost consciousness from the lack of air.
"I don't think they'll let me sit next to the players. Not important enough."
"You're going to be one of the most important people in that room. And just, don't sit next to him."
"I won't Pablo."
"Promise?" He said, sticking out his pinky. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your finger around his, bringing your conjoined hands upwards. You twisted them so that your thumb was facing him and vice versa. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the skin of his hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed audibly.
"What are you.. what was that?"
"You have to kiss it to seal the promise."
He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, looking at you once more for any objection, before closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles.
"You have soft lips." You said looking between his lips and his hooded eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Well, I'm two rooms over. Good night, Pablo. Good luck."
He watched you walk down the hall and enter your room, only returning to his when the door clicked shut. He pressed his back to the wood, allowing it to cool the sweat pooling under his hoodie. He was so thankful that he wasn't sharing a room with Pedri, because the feeling of your lips on his skin, soft and plump, had made him so incredibly hard.
~
"We are here live from the red carpet of the annual Ballon D'or ceremony, and the stars of the football world have come out in full force. On the carpet now Xavi Hernandez and his wife Núria, as well as Ballon D'Or contender Robert Lewandowski and his wife, champion in her own right, Anna. These are the veterans of football, and they should be shortly accompanied by the young trailblazers leading the New Era of Barcelona football."
It was three minutes until Gavi was supposed to step onto the carpet, and he was panicking. His breathing was shallow, his collar felt like it was suffocating him, and he was sweating bullets under his suit.
"Pedri, I can't do this." He said, genuine fear swimming in his eyes as he looked to his friend for comfort.
"Yes you can, hermano. All you have to do is walk and smile. Maybe answer some questions. You can absolutely do all of those things."
"What if I make an ass of myself?" He said, hiding behind Pedri as their handler signalled 30 seconds until they walked.
"You are here being told you are one of the best under 21 players in the world, and then you get to walk into the theater and see the best person in the world."
"I do really want to see her in a dress."
"I was talking about Leo Messi." Pedri deadpanned, and Gavi was shoved on the carpet genuinely laughing, a million bulbs flashing to capture his joy. He was here. He was 18 years old and on his way to shake hands with greatness. He was walking the carpet with his best friend in the world in a five thousand euro suit. He thought to his younger self, eleven years old and hiding behind his mother on his first day at La Masia. All the dreams he had were now the blueprint for his reality. Barca first team player? Check. Goal scorer? Check. Trophy winner? Check. Beautiful girl to share every euphoric moment with? Pending.
He took a few steps forward, waiting for Pedri to be photographed before he walked down to the end of the carpet, taking a group photo and heading to the microphones.
"Gavi! You look wonderful this evening. Are you excited for your first ceremony?"
"Oh, yeah, of course. It's something that I always dreamed about and now that my dream is a reality, I am just trying to enjoy every moment."
"Well you have had an absolutely stellar season playing with the reigning Kopa winner here, Pedri. Is it something you're thankful for, to play with him and to play with Barca?"
He looked over at Pedri, whose eyebrows were wiggling causing his serious demeanor to break.
"I'm absolutely so pleased to work with this guy here. He's just incredible on the field and we work well together. Barca is my lifelong club, and I am grateful to play there, to have them take care of me and keep me healthy." The reporter gave a thumbs up, and the boy stepped to the side to allow Pedri to finish his interview, wanted to have company as he entered the theater.
"Taking care of you and keeping you healthy, hm? Why didn't you just say her full name?"
The theater was glorious, all gold ornaments and plush red velvet, giving it a timeless and glamorous look. He craned his neck, looking around for those familiar eyes and inviting smile that had made his life so much worse and simultaneously so much better.
"Pablo." The voice came from behind him, and when he turned around, the world moved in slow motion. Your dress, pale nude and powder blue, made you look like a Greek deity. You could give the entire Spanish royal family a run for their money with the way the bodice seemed to mold against you, flaring out into a beautiful cascade of material. It ended at the bottom of your ankles, your feet hugged by blue heels, an anklet handing off that Gavi couldn't quite make out. Your jewelry glinted in the lights, the necklaces sitting between your collar bones drawing in the eye to the expanse of your chest and neck, and he had to try so, so hard to tear his eyes from this. He focused on all these details because looking at your face made him go slack-jawed.
Your hair was cascading freely, front pieces twirled away to show off the beauty of your feature. Your makeup was simple - glowing skin with rosy cheeks, black liner framing and highlighting your eyes, and glossy pink lips. Pablo knew nothing about makeup, but he knew for certain that if he got his hands on you, he would destroy whatever you had painted on your lips to make them shine. You batted your long lashes, and smiled shyly as Pedri let out a low whistle.
"Wow, who knew you were hiding all of this? Were you looking for husband tonight? This is the way to get it." He offered a hand, spinning you around so he (or rather Gavi) could get a full look, the blue bow in your hair flowing beautifully.
"You're too sweet, Pedri. I just didn't want to embarrass the club."
"Embarrass?!" They both exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.
"You're on track to upstage us. They pay you enough to afford Prada?" Pedri asked again, pointing to your shoes.
"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."
A friend of Pedri's came up to whisk him away to another group, leaving you standing with Pablo.
"So, what do you think, Pablo? Too much?" You were nervous, resisting the urge to clench your dress in your fists and scurry off. You smoothed your clammy palms down the fabric as well.
"Doctora, you know I'm not super smart like you. I don't even know the words I want to tell you right now. So I'll use one I know: you look breathtaking." He practically whispered out the last word, causing your head to snap up, eyes meeting. "I think you might be the prettiest girl in the room right now." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing back his nerves and pride. You were absolutely stunning, and no friendship or professionalism would stop him from letting you know.
"Thank you, Pablo. You have no idea how much that means coming from you." You moved forward, adjusting his bowtie as an usher came to guide him to his seat. You moved to the back with other team staff members, waving to him as he walked off. You were independent and a girlboss and all that, but it felt good to have him think you were pretty.
~
"And the winner is... Gavi."
The crowd erupted in cheers, the clapping so loud it was deafening. Pedri smiled from ear to ear, watching as his friend came up to the stage to take his place as Europe's shining star, their Golden Boy. Gavi had been frozen in his seat for a second before Robert pushed him up, clapping him on the back and congradulating him. As he placed his hands around the trophy, his peripheral vision registered the people moving from their seats, standing and clapping for his success. Pedri was smug in his congratulations, reminding Pablo he never had a doubt he would be handing off this trophy to him. And as Pablo took his place at the podium, the gold statue adorning his side, he saw you. In the third to last row of the theater, you stood, by yourself in a row full of staff, clapping excitedly for his achievement. Your smile was bright, teeth on full display to convey the level of genuine joy you felt in that moment. You almost looked happier than Gavi himself. And as the applause died down and people retook their seats, he watched you sit back down, hands crossed over your chest in pride and admiration. He looked straight at you, a point of comfort in the large crowd, and only then did he allow the unbridled joy of being the very best to fill him.
"Thank you. I am so proud to have achieved this, to have won such a prestigious award in my first full season with Barca's first team. Thank you to my family for standing by me in the good times and the bad, and for believing in me. Thank you to the club, who gave me every opportunity to play and show my skill this season. A huge thanks to my coach and teammates for helping me succeed. And finally, I want to recognize and thank the Barca staff, especially the physio team, for all their hard work this season. I wouldn't be here without their dedication. Once again, thank you very much for the honor. Visca Barca."
All he wanted was to run off the stage into your arms, to ignore the questions about his season and his success, but there would be time later. You, on the other hand, were trying to recover from the shell shock of Pablo recognizing you specifically during his acceptance speech. Your phone buzzed in your lap at a mile a minute, text messages flooding in from friends and family telling you they had watched Gavi's praise of you on TV. You sat in that same shocked state until the ceremony ended.
~
Why on Earth did so many people want to talk to Gavi? Sure, he had just won one of the most important awards in football, but they had already played his highlight reel. What else could they want to know that wasn't on YouTube? He still smiled politely, congratulating Luka and Robert on their awards before he was able to catch a spare moment alone at a far table, Pedri pulling up to his side shortly after, also fatigued from small talk. His trophy was in hand, a little less shiny now that every person who greeted him had asked to hold it, the luster dulled by grease and fingerprints. The two stood in a comfortable silence, exchanging remarks about the room or the guests at the function every once in a while.
"Pablo! There you are!"
He looked up at the sound of your voice, but not nearly fast enough as you came barreling into him, arms thrown around his neck and embracing him so tight he thought he might pass out (not that he was complaining).
"I'm so, so proud of you." You whispered in his ear, squeezing a little tighter before releasing him, smoothing the soft material of his blazer to release the wrinkles you caused with your attack.
"I'm so glad all your hard work had amounted to this, and I hope I'm around to see how amazing you'll be in the future." You said, emotion making your voice crack slightly. There was something about Pablo that convinced you, deep in your soul, that you were two halves meant to come together. He was young, passionate, ambitious - a reflection of yourself. And to watch him succeed? To see him soar to heights previously thought impossible? It was something you wouldn't trade for the world.
Gavi's heartstrings were so tight they were ready to snap. He had prayed to hear so many different things from you, but never realized that this recognition, this pride expressed so freely, would be the most meaningful. This was it. This was the moment. Suit on, trophy in hand, this was the moment to express how much needed you in his life in a different way. How much he needed to keep making you proud.
"Y/N! There you are."
Joao's built arm was wrapped around you, smelling slightly of whiskey and Dior Fahrenheit. The anger vein in Gavi's forehead began to make a reappearance.
"Mason had to see you and introduce you to some of the boys." Mason greeted you as well, and called over his 'friend Jude' to be introduced. Jude Bellingham was an absolute sculpture, holding a glass of God knows what in such an effortless manner, his tie also abandoned in favor of leaving his first two buttons popped.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jude. I've heard about you from this one - thinks you're a medical Godsend." He ended with a wink. Pedri could feel the heat radiating from Gavi's side, and apparently so could Jude, who looked up and offered a wave.
"Congrats, mate. Brilliant speech." He said, raising a glass to help bridge the language barrier. You turned your head, quickly translating the sentiment.
"Oh, you're with them? The super special physio that's gotten praised in his speech? I should've known I was in the presence of greatness." You laughed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.
"I'm really nothing special."
"Oh, well, that can't be true. I'll see for myself when I'm in SPain next year." A wink. Pedri grasped Pablo's arm to prevent blows. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some of the boys and the staff from City."
You quickly turned around, finding Gavi and Pedri whispering to one another.
"Pablo! He wants to introduce me to some people. I'll come find you!"
Thirty minutes later, Pablo was at a table with his trophy and a scowl, moping on what should be a happy night. After his second turn around the room, Pedri joined him, hoping to alleviate the burden.
"Hermano, are you-"
"Why would she just go with him? Like, I understand not being able to turn someone away when they're in your face, but to go with him?! Why would she do that?" He asked, sounding more and more small and child-like as he continued.
"She was just networking, hermano. Trying to meet people and make connections."
"Connections. Look what her connections have got her. Other guys coming up to her, trying to flirt in the most obvious ways possible. None of them know her like I do. None of them will ever - can ever - care about her in the way that I do. She needs to realize that no one will ever want to treat her right the way that I long to."
"Maybe you need to realize that it's not always the best guy that will get the girl, but the boldest one."
"What?"
"How many opportunities have you had, hm? To tell her you wanted her, to profess your love, to kiss her in her car or under street lamps or in front of the whole world? But you just stay sitting on the sidelines waiting for her to come to you. You know what's happening during that time? A Joao or a Jude or a Martin is taking the risk of telling her she's amazing, and she's going to accept. She's going to accept love that's less than yours because someone else was willing to give it to her, proudly and confidently. And you'll be sitting next to me, twenty years from now when we're both retired, talking about how the love of your life slipped between your fingers. She's here, right now, and you are still waiting. Either take the shot or let someone else shoot."
A fear shot through Pablo that he had never felt before. The idea of you, right now, falling in love with someone else made the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch you be with a man who thought you were anything less than the entire universe. It was him. Pablo Gavi was the one meant to have you, to hold you, to protect you from every evil and show you every joy. You were his soulmate, and he would move heaven and earth for his lover who was written for him in the stars.
He stood, scurrying to where Jude and the others had congregated. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen y/n?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and free from the terror threatening to consume him. He couldn't see your form anywhere in the ballroom.
"Oh," Kepa was the one to reply as the official Spanish speaker, "she went up to her room a few minutes ago. I think Joao took her up."
Pablo nodded before speed walking towards the door, breaking into a full sprint towards the elevators. Please. Please no. Please not Joao. Please not anyone. The ding when the elevator reached the third floor made his blood ripple, and he speed walked to your door, muttering under his breath.
"Please don't be in love with someone else."
He reached the door of your room, paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he would implode and self-destruct if he didn't do something.
He lifted his fist, took a breath, and knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, you opened the door, still in the perfect shape he saw you before, but now barefoot on the plush carpet of the hotel.
"Pablo?"
He peered over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind.
"Are you looking for something?"
"Please, tell me he's not in there."
"Who, Pablo?"
"Anyone. Please tell me that there is no one in there now waiting on you. Please tell me," he pleaded softly, moving toward you and placing his hands on your shoulder, moving one down to rest right above where your heart beat. "Please tell me there is no one else in here. I have never begged in my life, Doctora, but I'm here now to beg you: tell me who is the one you're reserving a place in your heart for. Because I know, more than I know anything else in this world, that my soul is yours. Everything I could possibly give, I am asking you to take it without a second thought. And I have pretended, for months now, that I don't need you like the very air I'm breathing. But the more I pretend, the more clear it becomes: I have never loved anything as strongly as I love you. It is overwhelming and all consuming the way every heartbeat and breath is just for you. So just tell me how long I will have to wait. Days, months, years - tell me how long it will be until I get to love you, wholly and completely. Until I get to love you as you deserve. Because there is no other choice. There is no moving on. Every angel in heaven knows that I would struggle in vain until my last dying breath trying to get over you."
There were no words. Hell, there was no air. There was only Pablo, breathless and shaking before you, his fragile heart in your hands. Your hands moved to cup his face, and the urge to cry didn't consume you. You pulled him in, lips finally connecting with his, and the electricity that jolted through you could have lit up all of Paris. His lips were slow to react, and as you pulled away he followed, reluctant to stop kissing you in fear he would never start again.
"You, Pablo. My heart is yours. I'm yours. I always have been."
This time it was Pablo who pulled you in, his arms around your waist lifting you into him. He basked in the plump flesh of your lips, the way it felt to hold you in his arms, a million times better than he could have imagined. It was as if your hearts were racing in sync, thumping the same beat that reverberated around the little bubble the two of you were in. You shifted hands from his face to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You had craved this, to be so close and connected with Pablo. The kiss was slow, passionate, the kiss to say 'I have waited for you for so long' and the one in return to say 'I'm here to stay'.
Pedri had gone upstairs to look for Pablo, scared he had committed manslaughter, and found the two of you there, kissing in the hallway, arms enveloping each other and lips locked in a soft and tender embrace. He placed Pablo's trophy (his whole reason for finding him on the ground, turning to leave before stopping and performing his duties as a friend: taking a picture. Maybe he should buy Gavi a whole pack of frames.
You finally pulled away, face flushed and lips pinkish and swollen from the liplock. You kept your arms around Pablo, turning your face to hide in his shoulder. You spotted the golden statue on the floor and smiled as you moved to pick it up, stopped by his strong and unfaltering embrace.
"Your award, Pablo."
"You're my real prize of this evening."
"Ugh how corny." You laughed, finally freeing yourself to go and pick it up. You carried it before turning from Pablo to unlock your room door, timidly standing in the entryway.
"Do... you want to come inside?" You asked, cradling his trophy in your arms.
"Do you want me to come inside?" He asked, heart threatening to break his sternum. He had never thought of going so far so fast.
"I mean if you don't want to-"
"No I want to, preciosa. God I want- but I don't want to make you feel like you have to."
"You're not. I want you Pablo. All of you." You opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Dale, campeon."
~
You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.
"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.
"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.
"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.
"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.
"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.
"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.
"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.
"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.
"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.
"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.
"Pablo it's too good."
"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."
He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.
"Open up, pretty girl."
"Pablo, want you. Want you please."
"I'm right here, baby. All yours."
You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.
"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."
He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.
"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.
"Pablo. I..."
"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.
"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Please don't leave me after we have sex."
He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.
"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.
"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.
"Pablo," you whined.
He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.
"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.
"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.
"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.
"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.
"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."
You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.
"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.
"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.
"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.
"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.
"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.
"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"
You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.
"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."
"I love you more, Pablo."
"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."
He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.
[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano
~
The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.
"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."
His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.
"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."
There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.
"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."
"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.
"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."
"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."
"I hope you never stop."
~
A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.
*~*Taglist*~*
@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738 @sideeblogsstuff @halaxxx @berriesaren
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Love is in the Air(BnB)
a/n: Part 7! Sorry it took me so long..also, this is the last part of this story but there will be an epilogue! Yay! Thank you again to @barfightzanddiscolightz for being so patient with me and your time and effort and friendship, I looove youu. And THANK YOU, my loves, for reading. I never could’ve imagined that this little idea of mine would become this big. I loved receiving your feedback and your messages. Anyway, enjoy!
warnings: just so many emotions. Don’t get whiplash!
wordcount: 5k
part 1 - Friday night - part 2 - Saturday - part 3 - Sunday - part 4 - Monday - part 5 - Tuesday - part 6 - Wednesday - Epilogue
Thursday
Yawning, you toyed with the sausages and baked beans of the full English breakfast that Wesley had treated you to on your final morning at his and Joe’s flat. Occasionally, you’d take a bite of the food in front of you. You hadn’t slept at all last night, too afraid to miss precious time with Joe. The man in question was sitting beside you, silently watching you play with your food, nibbling on a fried mushroom.
Joe had fallen asleep rather quickly after a sweet kiss goodnight and yet another promise that you’d make it work. You guessed that dealing with your doubts must be very exhausting for him, so you decided to just watch him sleep. Occasionally, he would mumble in his sleep and even form fully comprehensible sentences. Some of them were odd and made no sense at all whilst others were just plain out funny. You had to pull yourself together so you wouldn’t laugh out loud. Most of the time, he slept peacefully, and you liked to think that your gentle touch through his hair and comforting back rubs played a role.
Letting out a sigh of defeat, you set down the fork next to your plate and ran both of your hands down your face.
“Everything alright, love?”, asked Wesley, his mouth full of baked beans.
“Yeah…sorry, I’m just not that hungry, but the food is delicious.", you replied apologetically.
Wesley swallowed down his bite of food and smiled at you compassionately. As you looked at his kind face, guilt washed over you because you knew how much effort he had put into the breakfast you had silently watched him prepare. Determined not to disappoint him, you picked up your fork again and forcefully stabbed a whole sausage with it, quickly biting off half of it. Joe raised an eyebrow at you, stifling a laugh, whilst Wesley couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“Hey, you don’t need to force yourself to eat it.”, Wesley explained, still chuckling after you had swallowed your bite of sausage. “If you want, we can pack it into a container so you can take it with you and eat it on the plane.”
You nodded curtly and set down your cutlery once more, pushing your plate away from you and instead picking up your morning tea, gingerly bringing it to your lips.
“OK.”, Wesley announced after he had cleared his plate, rising from the chair. “I have to leave soon…oh come on, love, no, no, no…no sad faces right now.”, he chided you softly when he noticed your teary eyes and downturned lips. Joe immediately leaned over from his chair and placed a gentle kiss to your temple, tenderly resting his hand atop yours, which was now gripping the table’s edge. He soothingly rubbed your hand, trying to get you to relax your grip. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the wall across the table. You weren't ready to say goodbye to Wesley just yet; you needed more time.
Wesley, whose face was now also reflecting sadness, knelt beside you and lightly tapped his finger on your thigh. Slowly, you blinked, refocusing your gaze, and turned to face him. His hand now fully rested on your thigh, gently squeezing it.
“Love, believe me. This is hard for me too.”, he explained, a faint smile gracing his lips. “I mean, I gained a new bestie in a few short days. That doesn't happen often, you know. I’m so very glad I got to meet you, which is why I got you a little something. If you’ll follow me.”
Removing his hand from your thigh, Wesley stood up, extending his hand towards you. You looked at him, then at Joe, who managed to make you let go of the table. Now, your hand was in Joe's, his thumb tenderly caressing the side of yours. When you met his gaze, he nodded softly, released your hand, and got up as well.
“Go on. I’ll take care of the dishes.”, he said, placing another kiss on your temple before starting to clear the table. You slowly rose from your chair, placing your hand in Wesley's open palm. He gently led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway, eventually stopping in front of the commode adorned with the various photographs that hung on the wall above it. Letting go of your hand, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a small envelope. He quickly shut the drawer again and slowly turned to face you, soft smile still playing on his lips as he held out the envelope to you.
“Here, this is for you.”
Gingerly, you took it from his fingers and slowly opened it. Inside were several photographs, which you carefully extracted and examined one by one.
The first one captured the lively night at the pub when you first met Joe and Wesley's friends. It showed you twirling and laughing with Becky and Dan whilst Felix, Jack, and Oliver were pictured behind you, gulping down their pints. Standing out amongst them was Joe, whose eyes were filled with adoration as he watched you. The next photo displayed the group’s broad smiles on the day at the lake, taken by Wesley using his phone’s self-timer. It was a fantastic shot. The third photo depicted you and Joe, cuddled up and sleeping on the sofa. You had been illuminated only by the hallway's ceiling light; the rest of the room shrouded in darkness.
You looked up at Wesley with a raised eyebrow to which he just shrugged and giggled.
“You both looked adorable. I couldn’t resist.”
You playfully shoved his shoulder, then shifted your attention to the last photograph. It captured Joe and you in a tight embrace at the pub the previous night, your heads resting on each other, as you were swaying gently. Somehow, Wesley had managed to capture just the two of you, with everyone else vanishing from around you.
You stared at the picture for what felt like an eternity when you noticed a few droplets forming on its glossy surface. Gingerly, you brought your free hand to your face, tracing the stream of tears with your fingertips. Wesley, who had been watching you intently, now engulfed you in his arms, holding you close to his chest.
A faint sob escaped your body and Wesley tried to calm you down, gently rubbing your back and shushing you softly.
“Tha-ha-nk yo-uh-hu…I’m…go-ho-nna mi-hi-ss you so-ho mu-hu-hu-huuuch.”, you cried into his chest, and he let you, continuing to stroke your back. You had tried so hard not to cry but to you, goodbyes were one of the worst things to go through and always resulted in you breaking out in tears.
Once your sobs had somewhat subsided, Wesley released his embrace and took the photos from your hand, returning them to the envelope. He placed it on the commode, then took your hands in his.
With tear-streaked cheeks, you finally looked up at him, noticing the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, which he managed to hold back. You silently wished you were as strong as him but here you were, a blubbering mess instead.
“You’re very welcome.”, he replied, swallowing hard. “I’m gonna miss you too…so much.” He turned to face the wall above the commode and spoke again. “By the way, I made copies of the pictures…well only of three of them…I can’t hang the one of you lovebirds on the sofa on the wall for everyone to see. It's a bit too intimate.”
Following his gaze, you saw three new additions to the photo wall. Sniffling, you let out a choked laugh at his reasoning, understanding the significance. It was an incredibly personal moment, and you were grateful he had captured it, even if Joe and you had been oblivious to it.
“There it is…”, Wesley smiled and hugged you once more. “I’m gonna miss that smile… can I share one more secret with you?
You nodded softly, and Wesley brought his lips to your ear.
"My loneliness wasn't the only reason I rented out Joe's room.", he confessed, prompting you to lean back and look at him, eyebrows furrowed.
"Don't give me that look. It's not that bad... well, maybe it is a little bad, but hear me out, okay? So, yes, I was feeling lonely, but the money thing was a complete lie. I'm not struggling financially. The truth is, Joe has been miserable in his love life for a while. His dates never end the way he hopes. Most women figured out who he was and only wanted one thing from him. Sure, he had his fair share of flings, but as his best mate, I knew he wanted something more serious. I tried to help him, set him up on more dates, and we even tried countless dating apps. Nothing worked. Eventually, he gave up.”, he explained as you stood there, still in his embrace, shocked and feeling sorry for Joe. You couldn't imagine how challenging it must have been for him, knowing that women were only interested because of his newfound fame.
“So, you listed the room on AirBnB? Out of all places?”, you asked incredulously.
“Yes. I mean. I had a plan. Besides, I received numerous inquiries. I went through all of them, and then I saw you, and it felt perfect."
“Jesus Christ, Wesley.”, you scolded, wriggling out of his arms. “This could have gone in a completely different direction, you know."
“But it didn’t.”, he replied, sporting a smug grin.
“No, it didn’t…which is crazy.”, you agreed.
“Look, I noticed Joe's interest after your brief interaction the night you met. I just had to work my magic."
You rolled your eyes at him and eventually pulled him into your arms, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”, he retorted, returning your hug. "Just one thing, don't say a word to Joe about this, or he'll tear me a new arsehole.
“OK. I won’t tell him. But you definitely deserve a new one.”, you giggled softly, releasing a deep sigh.
Wesley let go of you and clapped his hands together.
“I’m really sorry, love. But I have to get going. My boss won't be pleased if I'm late for work again.”, he pouted, beckoning you into one more hug.
“I’m gonna miss you, Wes.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, love. Have a safe flight, and text me once you've landed.”
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes once more, but Wesley shook his head, planting a tender kiss on your now dried cheek, then releasing you for the final time.
“Take care.”
“You too.”
---
After Wesley had closed the door behind him, Joe enveloped you in an embrace from behind, and you leaned back into his chest.
“Are you alright?”
“Not really.”, you confessed, and he nodded, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You both stood there for a few minutes, motionless, until you finally spoke up.
“I have to finish packing my things.”
Joe nodded and hesitantly let go of you, taking your hand and leading you into his bedroom where your open suitcase and backpack were on the floor. Sighing, you eyed them warily.
"I'll go grab my toiletries. Baby, would you mind putting the rest of my clothes back in my suitcase? I'd appreciate it.”, you asked Joe with a defeated tone. Nodding, he approached the bed where a few items of clothing and two pairs of shoes were still laid out. He carefully picked up the shoes and placed them inside the netted compartment of your suitcase. You observed him for a moment, then turned and walked off to the bathroom.
Grabbing your washbag, you collected your scattered belongings, finding your hairbrush in the soap dish of the bathtub alongside your razor. Half of your lotions, face creams, and other skincare products, as well as your makeup, were scattered across the sink and floor. It took you ten minutes and two more searches through the cabinets and drawers until you were certain you had everything.
Closing your washbag, you returned to Joe's room to find him standing inside your suitcase with a huge grin on his face. You stopped dead in your tracks, raising an eyebrow and gaping at him in bewilderment. Shaking your head, you couldn't help but snort.
“What are you doing, Joe?”, you asked with a light chuckle, taking slow steps in his direction.
“I packed up the last of your things. Now all you gotta do is zip it up. If I curl up in a foetal position, you might be able to smuggle me through airport security.”, he explained animatedly. You took one more step forward, stood on your tiptoes and placed a soft peck to his lips.
“Oh, how I wish I could do that.”
Taking his hands in yours, you gently tugged at them, making him step out of the suitcase. As his feet touched the ground again, he leaned down slightly, capturing your lips in another tender kiss.
“I need to call a cab soon, my flight’s at 1:00 PM and it’s already 9:30 AM.”, you said, pulling away from the kiss. Kneeling down on one knee, you brought the suitcase closer, placed your washbag inside, and zipped it up.
“You don’t need to call a cab. I can drive you to the airport.”, Joe sweetly offered, helping you up from the floor and pulling your suitcase up as well.
“No, baby, you don’t have to do that.”, you politely declined, putting on your denim jacket and checking your trouser pockets for your phone, “Besides, didn’t you have an interview scheduled for this afternoon?”
“I cancelled it. Said I had a family emergency.”, he casually confessed. Your mouth fell open and your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at his nonchalant admission.
“Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn! You shouldn’t have done that. You can’t just put your life on hold because of me.”, you berated him, placing your hands on your hips. Joe initially looked incredulous, not expecting such a reaction, but upon seeing your flared nostrils and furrowed brows, he burst into laughter.
“I mean it! Don’t laugh at me!”
“You’re adorable, darling.”, he commented on your anger, taking the two steps that were in between you to close the distance. “Besides, right now, you and the limited time I have left to spend with you are more important than some silly magazine interview."
His lips were now mere millimetres away from yours and his arms wrapped around your waist. You released a shuddered breath, your anger melted away to be replaced with new tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. Softly, he hushed you, moving one hand to your face, delicately wiping away the unshed tears from your eyes down your cheeks and sealing his caress with his plump lips against yours.
In all the years you had spent on this planet, no one had gone out of their way for you like Joe had done multiple times these past few days. And that fact showed you how much he already cared for you. It was just very overwhelming for you to accept even the tiniest and most common gestures.
Reluctantly, you pulled away from his lips and cleared your throat, averting your eyes and looking down at your hands.
“Thank you.”, you whispered softly. “And sorry for chiding you.”
Chuckling softly, Joe shook his head and bent down to pick up your backpack, swiftly slinging it over his shoulder.
“It’s fine…go put on your shoes. We have to leave in five minutes otherwise you’re gonna miss your flight.”
At first, you didn’t move a muscle. Missing your flight seemed like a great idea, but then Joe moved behind you, placed his hands on your shoulders, and shoved you towards the hallway.
“Wait! I need to say bye to your bedroom!”
He rolled his eyes and went back to get your suitcase.
“Fine. I’ll wait by the door.”
He grabbed your suitcase by the handle and pulled it behind him to the bedroom door, playfully slapping your bum as he passed you, causing you to yelp softly.
“Idiot.”, you muttered under your breath, then turning to take one last look at his bedroom. You would miss his incredibly comfortable bed, which was ten times better than yours at home. And you would miss his so called “organised chaos”. But most of all, you would miss the time spent together in this very room. With a sigh, you turned and walked out of his room, closing the door behind you. Just as you were about to make your way down the hallway, the open living room door caught your attention. Glancing at Joe, who was now impatiently waiting by the front door and tapping his wrist, you nodded towards the living room, asking permission to say goodbye to it as well. He rolled his eyes once more, and you peeked inside the living room, soft smile on your face.
“Goodbye, living room. I will miss you.”, you said, then turned to the sofa, feigning disgust. "Although I won't miss you. You evil piece of furniture."
You heard a snort coming from down the hallway, followed by a whiny voice.
“Babe. Come oooon! It’s 10 o’clock! We have to go now.”
“OK, fine. I’m coming. Just tell me to my face that you want to get rid of me.”, you replied, exaggeratingly stomping towards him, crouching down, and deliberately putting on your shoes at an extra slow pace.
“Yes. Please. I can't stand having you around and taking up Wes's and my space any longer.”, he deadpanned, grabbing your hand and opening the door, practically dragging you out of the flat. You then rushed down the stairwell and out of the house to one of the parking spaces on the street where his car was parked.
He placed your suitcase in the boot before climbing into the driver’s seat and handing you your backpack.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“OK. Let’s go.”
---
Hand in hand with Joe, you patiently stood in the short queue at your airline's check-in counter, waiting to drop off your luggage. You thanked whoever was up in the sky that online check-in existed in these times you were living in because London’s traffic had once again proven to be a nightmare. It took you a gruelling hour and 15 minutes to reach London City Airport from his flat, and time was slowly but surely ticking away. You were well aware that in a couple of minutes you had to say goodbye to Joe and the uncertainty, not knowing when you would see him again, weighed heavily on your mind.
“…thank you. Here’s your receipt.”, the lady at the counter, whose professional smile showed a trace of sympathy, spoke to you, holding out your passport and receipt for you to take. Your mind being elsewhere, you didn’t notice that she was talking to you. Joe smiled at her and took your documents, exiting the queue to your left. As London City Airport was relatively small, you knew that taking the escalators upstairs would lead you directly to airport security. However, you weren't ready to go just yet because it meant leaving Joe behind.
Joe led you away from the bustling crowd, finding a quiet corner, his face displaying a sad smile. Seeing him like this almost made you break down on the spot. He spoke to you, but his words didn't register as you just saw him holding up his hand towards you, signalling for you to wait a moment. It finally sank in that this was it; you had to say goodbye. Your flight would start boarding in an hour. Shit - this means I only have 15 minutes to say goodbye to him. I’m not ready. No. No. Please. I am not ready!
Unaware of your inner turmoil, Joe had one hand rummaging through his pocket, his forehead creased in concentration, and his tongue peeked out from between his lips. You were blanky staring at him, tears burning in your eyes and lips trembling.
With a soft ahh he pulled something out from his trousers’ pocket and held it up in front of your face. Refocusing your eyes, you saw a delicate golden necklace, but what caught your attention was what dangled from it. You glanced at Joe’s hand and sure enough, his favourite ring was missing. The bulky sterling silver ring provided a striking contrast to the slender chain.
Your lips quivered and he motioned wordlessly for you to turn around which you did instantly. Once he had closed the clasp and laid the necklace gently against your skin, you turned around, covering your face with your hands as tears now silently flowed down your cheeks.
“You shouldn’t have, Joe.”, you mumbled into your hands. “This is your favourite ring.”
“And you’re my favourite person, so it’s only right that you keep it.”, he pulled you into his arms and you slung yours around his neck tightly, leaning up to press your lips against his. Suddenly, you felt a cool sensation on your arms and pulled back slightly to look up at who you now certainly could call the most important person in your life. He also had tears spilling down his face as he fought to hold back a trembling sob.
“Baby.”, you cooed softly trough your tears, pecking his lips again. “Thank you so much. I’m gonna wear it every day…I’m really sorry, I don’t have anything to give to you.”
“You don’t have to.”, he whispered back, his voice filled with tenderness. “Spending the past few days with you was enough to fill me with happiness. I will cherish every second right here.” He took one arm from around you and placed it over his heart, smiling softly through his tears, causing you to sob even harder.
Placing both hands on either side of your face, he drew you in for another deep, passionate kiss, caressing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. You kissed him back, leaving both his and your lips slightly swollen. Pulling back slightly, Joe whispered against your lips.
“Wanna know a secret?”
You nodded in response.
“I really, really like like you and I’m gonna miss you so so much.”
Sniffling, you nodded again, opening your mouth slightly to speak against his lips.
“Wanna know a secret too?”
Now it was his turn to nod, a small smile gracing his lips.
“I really, really like like you too and I’m also gonna miss you so so much.”
You were now both smiling against each other’s lips, tears still streaming down your faces, leaving salty trails on your chins, and staining your shirts and the floor below.
“Good thing we’re on the same page.”, Joe uttered, removing one of his hands from your face and wiping his with the sleeve of his thin jumper. “Otherwise, I might have had to take back my ring.”
You shook your head at his statement, pulling him closer to you again. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder and moved his other hand, that was still on your face, to wipe away your tears.
“Come one, darling. Time to go upstairs.”
You nodded softly and he let go of you, taking your hand in his once more. Slowly, you two made your way up the escalators to where the queue for checking the boarding passes started. Joe pulled you aside once more, holding your hands in his.
“This is it.”, he started, and you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Please call me when you’ve landed. If you forget, I will take the next flight and personally make sure you got home safely.”
You tilted your head to the side, a quaint smile forming on your lips.
“Is that a promise?”
“Babe. No. It should be a threat.”, he groaned, throwing his head back.
“Sounds like a promise, though.”
“Shush, I’m not finished yet.”, he hushed you, letting go of your hands and briefly covering your mouth with his hand. “Please call me.”
You nodded, and he continued.
“I promise, I’m gonna call you every day. We can FaceTime. I love FaceTiming, even when I'm abroad for work, which will be soon. I'm heading to the United States for some conventions, and then I'll be filming my next major film in Morocco - Gladiator 2, baby! Can you believe it? But I'll call you whenever I can, even if it's the middle of the night for me or the early hours of the day. We'll make it work.”, he rambled, his hand still covering your mouth. It was kind of cute, listening to his word vomit.
You gingerly removed his hand from your lips and tenderly held it in yours.
“We also need to finish watching Stranger Things.”, you declared, glancing up at him, searching for his warm chocolate eyes.
“Oh, yes. We can schedule FaceTime dates and watch Stranger Things together.”, he smiled and nodded softly, leaning down to give your lips another peck. Just as he pulled away, your phone vibrated in your pocket, signalling that your flight would begin boarding soon. A lump formed in your throat. This was now it. This was goodbye. Overwhelmed, you couldn't hold back your emotions any longer. They had been building up inside of you for the better part of the last 24 hours and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Your body shook violently with sobs and Joe pulled you into his chest, swaying you gently. Kissing your forehead, he whispered that everything’s going to be OK. You nodded stiffly against his pecs trying to regain composure. Giving yourself a couple of moments to even out your erratic breathing, you swallowed hard.
“I have to go now.”, you croaked out and Joe nodded against your hair. He cupped your face for one final time, placing the sweetest, most emotionally charged kiss on your lips, which you returned with equal fervour.
Pulling back, he kissed the side of your mouth, your cheek, and finally your temple before grudgingly letting go of you completely, leading you to the end of the queue. He stood beside you until your boarding card was checked and you were guided through the gate to join another queue for the security check. He gave you one final peck, and then you were out of his reach.
Joe had moved to a corner where he could still see you slowly advancing towards the luggage and body scanners. He was rubbing at his face, wiping away his tears and sniffling loudly, but kept his eyes trained on you and you did the same. With every second step you took, you would turn around and search his face. When it was time to turn the corner, you saw Joe blow you a kiss, which you caught and pressed against your chest. Returning the gesture, you blew a kiss back, and he even made a locking motion over his heart. You snorted softly, a small smile forming on your lips as you shook your head and waved one last time before disappearing behind the wall.
Joe watched you vanish around the corner, your hand still up and waving with that smile on your lips he had grown to adore, his hand still mid-air. He lingered there for about ten minutes before an airport staff member informed him that he couldn't stay in that area and asked him to return to the check-in hall. He apologised profusely and swiftly made his way down the escalator by himself when his phone chimed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a new WhatsApp message from you. You had made it through security and were now on your way to the gate. He smiled down at your message and immediately responded with a string of heart emojis, asking you to keep him updated.
He decided to leave the airport only once your flight had taken off, so he walked over to the waiting area and sat down on one of the seats. Whilst waiting for another update from you, his mind raced. He calculated dates and made mental adjustments, opening his calendar app to confirm his thoughts. Bingo. He was right. He quickly opened his contacts, scrolling through until he found this one particular person he was looking for.
Just as he was about to press the call button you updated him once more that you had boarded the plane which was now taxiing toward the runway and that you already missed him terribly. He replied that he missed you too and wished you the safest flight of all flights that had ever taken place and finished it off with the kissy-face emoji. You quickly sent one back yourself, informing him that you were switching to airplane mode now.
His last reply which read: “OK. Please call me when you’ve landed. You promised.”, showed only one tick, indicating that your phone was now truly in airplane mode. Sighing, Joe closed WhatsApp and returned to his contacts and pressed the call button.
He stood up slowly from the row of seats, making his way toward the exit of the airport and the car park. Joe almost hung up after the fourth ring when suddenly, the person he was looking for, answered the phone.
“Hey, Alex. Are you busy? No?...Good. Uhm, I just checked my calendar and realised I have nothing scheduled after wrapping up my new project…keep it that way.”
THE END
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@ohmeg @daleyeahson @lma1986 @palomahasenteredthechat @mandyjo8719 @aysheashea @eddiebaemunson @xlilithb @freakymunson @sidthedollface2 @i-wont-run-this-time @plk-18 @miserybeans @kylakins88 @deadspellz @thehillzhaveeyez @kayleeelena97 @foreverjosephquinn @punctualhowell @icallhimjoey @ghostinthebackofyourhead @siriuslysmoking @hollster88 @cancankiki @definitionwanderlust @eriancrow @1paire2vans @theonewiththecrackedmind @fromasgardandback @captainonaboat
crossed out = couldn’t tag
#joseph quinn#Joe Quinn#joseph quinn fanfic#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn fanfiction#Joe Quinn x reader#joe quinn fanfic#joe quinn x y/n#joe quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn x y/n#rpf
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Let's Talk About: Burrow's End, Evolution, and Revolution
Welcome back, Stupendous Stoats--for one last time! And because I have a bunch of stuff that I need to do and I'm just squeezing this in, this Let's Talk About is gonna be a stream of consciousness that I write while I'm watching.
Check it out, check it out, check it out--
The caution tape ribbon on Izzy's head with the very colorful attire is giving Jojo Siwa realness.
Now that we're in the finale, I just want to point out that Aabria went full Ed Sheeran on her outfit in the last five episodes. So I want to ask any amazing artist out there… Please draw Aabria's power plant uniform with Brennan's Dungeons and Drag Queens get-up a la the Beyonce and Sheeran meme.
Siobhan wants to go full Kevin McCallister!
"…and that we should murder Phoebe." It's not a surprise, but the way Brennan said this so intensely calm gave me such whiplash. In a good way. Mommy has so much blood lust.
Is Dr. Tara Steele planning a Happy Feet situation? Filming the talking stoats like those scientists filmed the dancing penguins?
This map is truly beautiful. Truly.
Yes, Viola! Yes, Rashawn!
BRING IN THE NEW MAP!
Are those three Breaking Bad action figures?
"Carlos! What have they done to you?"
"Well this is gonna be much more fun now." AABRIA!!!
You have to kill your babies, Brennan!
"I rolled better than a Nat 1--which is a 2."
"Does a 30 hit?" "What do you think?!" Sad sigh. Perfect.
Why did Brennan make Tula so powerful? Like, in another fight where he isn't fighting his own family, this would be great. But the situation is not that!
"Shoot at me!" "I'll take the shot." "Shit."
"Don't hit it with fire! Don't hit it with water!" Aabria turned into Lucas!
"Lair action." "It's okay." "What?" "You don't have to." That was the best reaction to a DM's shenanigan.
What I want to know right now-- Is Tara's hazmat suit still broken? Because there's a lot of radiation here.
"Are you okay?" "No!!!" This is the most engaging 5e battle in Dimension 20 history outside of A Starstruck Odyssey.
"He'll cook in 40 minutes!"
Aabria has just learned the lesson Brennan had learned from giving Ally Beardsley's shenanigans a chance. If you say yes, the dice gods will give your player a Nat 20.
We did get a Happy Feet ending! This is an amazing ending! I still want a longer Aabria season on Dimension 20 though.
That said--this very lovely epilogue juxtaposed with that horrifying maxi of Phoebe-backer is also a perfect representation of Burrow's End. Although… Wait… Did we get an epilogue for Thorne? I'll have to rewatch this episode at some point. I have to dash now.
Oh, but one last thing: Brennan's "I can't wait to find out what's going to happen tomorrow" hits very differently for me, right now.
#burrow's end#dimension 20#d20 spoilers#aabria iyengar#brennan lee mulligan#siobhan thompson#rashawn scott#jasper william cartwright#erika ishii#izzy roland
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Hi! This is very random but I was wondering what made you decide to structure Atandil as a series of interconnected one-shots instead of as a longfic? I really love the way you weave back and forth between timelines – was the non-linear narrative the main appeal for you? Or were you not keen on a chaptered longfic for another reason? Thank you ❤️❤️
Oh this is such a great question! So there is a short (and not very interesting answer) and a longer (hopefully more interesting one). I will give you both. :)
The short one:
I have never written fanfic at all until this series and have also never been involved in online fandom either until about a month or two before I posted Part 1. Consequently I know absolutely nothing about fic best practices or common structures, nothing about “fanon” at all, and I went into this not even realizing I needed to know how to tag things or that there were tropes writers used to categorize or describe general structures. Basically it’s just been me and my Elf obsession hanging out alone in my head for 20 years? Anyway, this story showed up one day (which is another funny story but I won’t get sidetracked on it in this post) and I basically just *needed* to get it out. Which is how we are here. To sum it up, I did a series because I didn’t know it would probably have made more sense as a chaptered long fic 🤦♀️ Ah well.
The longer one:
Yes, having it nonlinear was the primary appeal of breaking it up as a series. (In my know-nothing-about-fanfic-head, I assumed nonlinear meant series by default instead of chapters.)
Having it nonlinear was something I’ve always wanted to utilize in the structure because part of what it’s exploring is the whiplash of Elves interacting with mortals in this kind of timespan. It’s only about 150 years between Finrod discovering them and Finrod dying in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, which is a piddly little bit of time to a being with serial longevity for the duration of Arda.
And yes, I know there’s the passage where Tolkien talks about time passing for Elves at the same rate as for Men, but at the same time it would have to feel different, just by ratio. The older I get, the shorter every year seems - and I’m only 35. Finrod is in his 2,000’s at the time of the story so a hundred years is a proportionally small chunk that would feel quite fast, even if it’s technically passing at the same rate, because it’s such a small percentage of what he had lived already.
Hence the nonlinear structure. It gives the reader the same whiplash as Finrod is having, where all of this is happening in such a “short” span of time that it feels all crushed up on top of itself - almost as though it’s all happening at once. So you have Belen as an 18 year old running around in games and laughter one moment, and in the next he’s in his 90’s and on the brink of his own passing. It’s all at once. This aspect jumped out at me when I was reading the Athrabeth and Finrod’s like “well I was hanging out with Bëor a hot second ago” and Andreth replies with “…..buddy, he’s been dead for a…century?” Everything about this is utterly incomprehensible for Elves trying to get accustomed to mortal lifecycles in this mind-bogglingly short amount of time.
Presenting it as solo chunks also lets them function as a kind of kaleidoscope of memories, pieced together by a kind of natural association (which is why I’ve also tried to have deliberate contextual or thematic tie-ins for each, like a mind’s free association might follow). This may not fully find its landing until the epilogue, but the function of memory and *how* things are remembered is also key in this. “The life and love of the Eldar dwells much in memory,” “In memory lies our great talent”Etc.
Thanks so much for this ask! It was so fun to get to talk about this. :)
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Hello tumblr would you care to see my reactions to the burrows end finale anyway here they are:
(thanks for reading if you do i guess)
god new Tula is so unhinged and I love it like wtf is that jumpsuit idea
implications of lukas knowing about cocaine are stoats have either done it or like watched scarface or smth right
"twerking on a gearshift"
god I hope they ram the humans
noooo thorn
oh god oh fuck oh pants oh sheeeyiit.
my god the flying squirrel scene is right out of an animated kids movie
holy moly the arc from refusing to understand anything to "well, help us understand"😭
RIP Carlos Luna gone too soon
absolutely loving this new map scale
well this is gut wrenching (both figuratively and literally)
wait is Siobhan from the forest? why is she going back to the forest
this time on burrows end:
Iyengar and Mulligan: Rules Lawyers Divided
(good on Brennan trying to twist the effect tho, it was worth a shot)
oh god the betrayal poor bhint baby
oooooooh shit oh pants oh dammit Aabria why
I hate this
I resonate so much with Brennan's dead inside voice rn
if Jaysohn dies I WILL riot
Jesus fucking Christ in hell people
oh im gonna be so emotionally devastated after this
I may never recover
KILL IT JAYSOHN FUCKING KILL IT DEAD
HELL YEAH JAYSOHN CATCH THE BULLET
so frikin cool thas the pants (meant like that's the shit)
man that baculum is tough, huh?
of course the villain in the story wants to bomb everything it's a cold war era story
love the new york accent meat suit thing, 10/10 bit
wow radiation bad whoda thunk
I think i need an image of jasper screaming to react to stuff with
I second the Emmy nom
wait it's called the dimensional dome??!?
this is pantsing insane
oh my god they won I didn't even think this was possible
no not Jaysohn please not Jaysohn I'll do anything cmon you can't do this please no. help.
okay he's not full dead we still have hope ppl.
ah yes nuclear power plants, well known for having their own ice cream trucks.
okay I fully forgot about Lukas is bhint baby okay
ooohhh beans
oh.pants.
final sacrifice?
past Tula really said "all I wanted was to fall asleep, close my eyes and disappear"
this is so sad but that was a truly amazing speech
oh nooo an epilogue time to see how my prediction of "bittersweet" turned out. somehow, after all that, I think it's not gonna happen
peace and love bb
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
stoat pres!
man the whiplash of going from almost crying to "Kenji do that little dance"
Dr. Stoat!
oh shit they never said a stoat couldn't play sports!
literally hyperventilating Air Jaysohn is real and he made it to the Olympics
do they have weight classes in long jumps?
BRIGHTER THAN THE SUN SWIFTER THAN THE WIND PANTS YEAH!!
#I would probably have posted these individually here but i had no internet at the time#so this was copied from my notes app#dimension 20#burrow's end#burrow's end spoilers#burrow's end finale spoilers
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I finally got around to finishing Ship of Dreams and...maybe don't end your Titanic book with a '1 year later, everything is great, MC and LI love screwing their brains out and have no trauma at all' epilogue? I realize that the Titanic was only a backdrop to the romance, but the tone shift gave me whiplash.
I'll be honest, I didn't particularly care about the romance, mostly because I found the MC insufferable. The chapters about the actual disaster were the first in a while to make me feel something other than annoyance. But I'd have liked the book to have actually let me sit with at least a hint of that tragedy for the ending. Not only because it'd add depth to the characters and their relationship to each other, but because the ending feels disrespectful to boot. I don't know about anyone else, but when the ship was sinking, when they were picking up the pieces on the Carpathia, even when they arrived back in New York, I was mostly thinking about the actual victims of the disaster and how terrified they must have been. How distraught at what they had suffered and lost. Being wrenched away from that for a stereotypical epilogue that doesn't even reference the tragedy was...jarring, to say the least.
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Just reread DJGC (with the epilogue), and here are some of my thoughts that literally nobody asked for...
Cynthia sucks.
I wish we got to see more of Abby and Cammie bonding (especially over Matt).
I also wish we got to see more of Abby and Macey bonding (especially over how much Cynthia sucks).
I feel like Ally teased us with Abby/Joe pretty hard in DJGC, it's through Cam's POV so she probably misread the situation (but you know Tina had to be trying to gather intel and was spreading some WILD rumors about these two).
It's not that funny, but it kinda cracks me up thinking of Zach disguising himself as an old man. Crazy eyebrows, an even crazier white wig AND a fake mustache. Cam has to tease him about it in the future. Please.
Zach just jumps out of a moving train with a parachute. No biggie.
"Dad died, and ever since then, you've been a ghost." Has anyone recovered from that? Because I haven't. Nope.
Zach giving Cammie his jacket is just... their whole interaction in that scene is so cute.
"Joe Solomon does not cry." FALSE. He most certainly does and it most certainly makes me cry.
Abby really thought "Why not?" and kissed Joe just to try and snap Rachel out of her denial. "Well, *looks at Rachel* someone had to do it." Exactly what conversations did Abby and Rachel have about Joe that led to this moment???
"Don't be a ghost this time." Aww, my heart...
"She deserves better. She had better." "Matthew's gone." "And whose fault is that?" Screaming, crying, sobbing on the floor. This whole scene.... WRECKS me.
"It's good to hear your voice, Abigail." Joe who? I don't understand, what's Abby/Joe? I've never heard of that. (Headcanon: Tina for sure has the phones at Gallagher bugged and she is 100% experiencing whiplash right now).
"Sloppy of you to get shot, love." This line alone might make the DJGC epilogue my favourite epilogue lmao. It's maybe the most Tabby thing we get in the series and I'm absolute TRASH for it. Like, Townsend calls Abby "love" and that's canon.
I may or may not have written a fic extending their conversation on the phone but it's never seeing the light of day.
#just my silly little GG thoughts#also if Joe is Zach's father figure#Abby is Macey's mother figure#Catherine and Cynthia?#different moms same trauma#Gallagher Girls#Gallagher Girls Series#Ally Carter#DJGC
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I know I'm late and you've already made a post but I'm curious if you have any new thoughts about book 3? I always love your observations!!
Never too late :)
Honestly, I wish I could say they have changed but they haven’t a whole lot. I enjoyed book three lots and I look forward to book four but there’s just a lot that seemed off or I just straight up didn’t like.
I think the thing I’m most upset about is the shift of the detective becoming an agent. I’m not happy about that at all and it just seems like so out of no where and last minute. I would have anticipated that could have been something that was decided for like the epilogue or something, not three books in. I think it really ruins some of the charm for me too which might be dramatic but this was my comfort series for years so I’m opposed to certain changes. I would have been fine with it if we remained the detective while being an agent but we don’t which leads to questions of like why stay in Wayhaven at all then. We would be safer just traveling around and then Wayhaven would be safe because they’re after the detective not Wayhaven.
I think part of that decision is made from Sera really putting a lot of energy off the original cast (in a way- that’s not how I want to phrase it but I can’t think of a better way at the moment) and starting to focus on the new supernaturals she’s creating because she enjoys them herself. You can see it a little bit with Falk and a lot a bit with Sin. I personally disagree with how much was spent on Sin because I would have preferred that time with UB but that might just be me. With her turning a villain into an RO in book 4 I don’t think this will be something that changes or will get better any time soon. I can respect her wanting to do more stuff with the world she’s created, but I think it would better suit TWC to be less books then and expand the world with different characters/series for that focus on new characters or dynamics she thinks of.
I also feel a certain type of way with some of the romance choices she made. The only one that felt like it was perfect to me was M’s and A’s to a much lesser degree. N’s felt so out of order and out of character for me that it was like whiplash and I don’t recognize it in comparison to our book one and book two romance with them. One thing that felt off for me in N and F’s route was how… brushed off the intimacy was in their routes? You would have assumed they’ve been physical since book one for how… not special it all felt. The quickness of it and how quickly they had to get dressed and go right after made it very one-night-stand-y which worked for M’s route in book 2 only. I think F’s is the more egregious example because F, depending on choices you make, shares that they are not exactly ready for intimacy yet just for it to happen shortly after and to really just kind of be like “whatever”
There are parts of book 3 that I really, really enjoyed don’t get me wrong but it was definitely lacking for me at lots of points and has me questioning further decisions or implications of decisions made.
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‼️these violent delights/our violent ends/foul lady fortune/last violent call spoilers‼️
I want to share some thoughts with yall after i just finished last violent call. Waiting for foul heart huntsman later in September is torture so i thought to talk now
There’s so many thoughts where do i start uhmm. I’m glad my friend introduced me to this series (hi parker!!! Immensely grateful btw). I haven’t been so captivated by a book/series in awhile so i truly loved this.
I think the small part of my denial part suspected that Roma and Juliette was alive since it was explicitly mentioned in the OVE epilogue that their bodies weren’t found after the explosion. I’m glad we get an addition of the novella’s in the series that serves as an epilogue for Roma and Juliette’s arc. It served their love story justice. Ofc if we knew all along that they’re alive se cld come up with our own conclusion that they’re living their peaceful lives far far away but with the novella’s we cld actually see how they live their domestic life.
And oml i’m so glad Chloe Gong added Benedikt and Marshall’s love story a novella epilogue. Like to finally get a conclusion that all that mutual pining was worth it is very *chef’s kiss*. I wish we get to see their everyday domestic life in their home however. But a murder mystery epilogue is so fun and fitting for them so i’m not complaining all that much. But wldn’t it be cool to see what they’re like at home like how we see Roma and Juliette? Like yeah they were determined to help a couple in need, but we get a glimpse on what they’re like at home. Again, i understand that even if it is an epilogue it can’t be all fluffy since it takes form of a novella and technically speaking it needs to add on to the plot since it’s not yet the actual epilogue of the series.
Ahhh but i loved all the details slipped in the novella’s. Marshall being the main cook is spot on and him hving monthly gossip sesh with Juliette is so fitting i love them. Roma being absolutely in love with his wife and spoiling her with his love till the ends of the earth? Perfection. Juliette still wanting to cause problems despite also being in the lovey-dovey state much like Roma? So in character and very girlboss of her i love it sm.
It took me by surprise ngl when it was mentioned that Benedikt’s a children’s art teacher. But honestly it’s quite fitting. I can see him being very good with kids of different ages and also channeling his passiom for the arts to those kids by teaching them. Imagine one of his students paints a stick figure portrait of Benedikt and the kid showing it to him and Benedikt just has to keep it in himself from tearing up. It looked like a stick man made with chicken scratches and his name spelt wrong, but to Benedikt it was EVERYTHING. Also not to mention Marshall so definitely falling in love with Benedikt all over again any time he sees him playing and having fun with the kids like hsnsganshmsgwnw. Roma and Juliette’s future children will definitely be spoiled by their dear uncles and omg the possibilities are endless. My fav possibility so far is the thought of Marshall and Benedikt teaching their future kids how to ultimately bully Roma and it being the funniest sight ever it sends Juliette rolling on the floor.
But now it brings me to the events of FLF and the potential foul heart huntsman events. Wow did the Orion being controlled by his mother plottwist at the end took me out and basically shattered my heart. Like????? Him and Rosalind had smth going on and now mommy issues came knocking on their front door to ruin it all. Now that i think abt it the mind control plottwist sounds like an allegory for toxic and controlling boy mom relationships uhmm… was what chloe gong was going for?? I mean it was good and i think it truly did the trick ngl. Like it was a whole damn whiplash. Both the concept being a plottwist and a (potential but idk if it was meant to be that so take this one with a grain of salt) allegory.
Also what I truly loved abt FLF how the whole plot is basically abt Rosalind’s guilt. For so long she felt guilty for nearly destroying Shanghai and became an agent just so she can repent from her wrongdoings. And isn’t that nearly identical to Orion?? I mean, he became an agent to make himself useful and to prove a point to his father so it’s not necessarily centered around guilt anyways but like… same vibes? You know? Look it just make sense to me. But anyways and then they found each other and like unravel each other slowly and like gsngsmshsms. So cute. Amazing. Orion Hong is very malewife energy especially when he was losing his shit swinging left and right in that last fight scene in the warehouse.
Also that does leave me to wonder how wld FHH wld play out. I was so hoping for Orion and Oliver to reconcile at the end of FLF ngl bcs yeah i love found family but i LOVE sibling bond tropes. Like for so long I adored Rosalind and Celia’s relationship throughout TVL and OVE. It’s still apparent in FLF so i’m glad and hopefully it’ll keep going till FHH. But pls give me fluffy Hong siblings. And like all of them. All three. Imagiem how funny it’d be when Pheobe and Silas inevitably get together (there’s no denying they’re going to get together eventually. If they aren’t then Chloe Gong has been playing with our feelings this whole time and led us all on) and the big brother instinct in Oliver and Orion will jump at the thought of Pheobe with a boyfriend. Ok well I’m sure it has happened before since FLF have mentioned that Orion has stolen Pheobe’s ex bf to like ‘test his loyalty’ or whatever but to i don’t think he’s ever been into Silas like that. Like ever. Even if he did he already definitely so whipped for Rosalind so he’s not even gonna want to at that point. But I’m sorry the thought of Oliver and Orion cornering Silas and giving him the shovel talk?? That’s amazing. I mean yeah Orion wld do it moreso bcs he finds it funny and only feeling the need to make sure Silas stays in line when it comes to his sister just a tiny bit. But Oliver? He’d be so serious with his threat.
But the main thing we’re all awaiting in FHH is definitely the story of Rosalind getting Orion back. But seeing that he’s basically a superhuman, Rosalind wld so definitely round up the whole gang. But does that gang also include Roma Juliette Benedikt and Marshall?? I’m hoping it wld. And like not just a quick appearance, which is smth i’m sure we’ve all suspected with what’s been told in the novella’s. But i truly wanna see thrm getting involved in the brutal fights and shit. Also i hv to see the Roma and Alisa reunion. I need to hv it bcs my life depends on it!!!!!
I cannot wait for FHH to come out and reveal more tiny details of all these character’s and reveal the last story to truly tie this series up to an end. I’m gonna get super fucking emotional ngl but i’m also excited nonetheless.
Ngl i still hv many thoughts abt this series but I’m not gonna share it now bcs my brain is spinning like 63826 miles an hour just by thinking abt it so this is as much as I can put it into words. Wld love to hear anyone else’s thoughts on this. My ask box is always open:)
#i don’t usually post abt books on here#but in case anyone was wondering yeah i do read#i think it does go hand in hand with liking musicals tho ngl#and taylor swift HAHAHAHAH#anyways#these violent delights#our violent ends#foul lady fortune#foul heart hunstman#last violent call#chloe gong#juliette cai#roma montagov#rosalind lang#celia lang#orion hong#oliver hong#pheobe hong#silas wu#benedikt montagov#marshall seo#alisa montagov#these violent delights spoilers#our violent ends spoilers#foul lady fortune spoilers#last violent call spoilers#might expand my fanfiction services to this fandom if i feel like it idk
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So, I just finished Carnival Row season two. Here’s my thoughts (spoilers ahead).
I really liked it at first, but it just kept going downhill. Season one had a twisty storyline, but pretty much all the pieces fit together in the end. This season felt way more convoluted and much less character driven. They tried to do stuff with characters’ motivations, like exploring Philo’s guilt over suppressing his fae heritage and “siding” with humans. It’s just that none of it felt as authentic or compelling as it did in the first season. As a writer myself, there’s a difference between “the characters did this” and “the writers made the characters do this.” It’s a hard difference to explain, but this season felt like the latter. Stuff just happened because it could, with little attention paid to actually exploring character depth in meaningful ways. Overall it felt too rushed and convoluted.
Other points:
If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know I love Philo. This season, however, he felt far less humanized (which is ironic, because the writers were trying to do just that). His arc in season one was so focused on helping people — he was so defined by his compassion — and I really didn’t feel that was present in season two. He felt significantly less sympathetic.
I couldn’t bring myself to ship Vignette and Tourmaline. Their relationship was a major focus in season one, and it was established that Vignette chose Philo, and that she and Tourmaline were better as friends. I just really hate it when a show establishes two characters as a couple and then totally changes direction in the next season. Philo and Vignette were written as endgame in season one, including the finale, and this season totally erased that. It felt like narrative whiplash.
Why did they bother establishing a connection between Tourmaline and Darius and setting them up to be a cute couple to then do nothing with it? And then just kill him? Lazy writing. Make it flow.
I actually really liked Imogen this season. Her growth in season one was great, and it was cool to see her spunk and competence this season especially in the last few episodes. Also, having her kill Ezra felt narratively fulfilling. He had it coming based on how he’d treated her, and I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.
I will never forgive this show for killing Sophie Longerbane. She was 100% the most interesting character on the show, and just as she was getting even more interesting, they killed her. Let smart, fascinating, ambitious women live, thank you. Seriously. Her arc was so good, and I was so excited to see what she’d do next, and then she DIED. How dare you.
Honestly, the show was more interesting before Sophie and Jonah were killed.
What happened to Philo’s “I’m Breakspear’s son and I’ll be chancellor to help people” plot line? It disappeared after like episode two and only appeared again in the epilogue. For a show about fantasy politics, this season almost totally ignored the most interesting political stuff in its own plot.
Speaking of the epilogue. I like what it did, but holy crap that was too rushed. I need at least a few more episodes to explain how everyone got to that point. I love happy endings, especially to stressful stories, but this felt like a cop-out from actual storytelling. I want the story of Philo revealing his parentage and becoming chancellor. Do Imogen and Agreus get married? I need way more development for Vignette and Tourmaline’s relationship. I just need more. The middle of the season felt like a lot of filler; they could easily have cut that and done a couple more episodes to ACTUALLY wrap up the show.
As always, the costumes and sets were STUNNING. This season had better win awards for that.
#carnival row#carnival row season 2#spoilers#rycroft philostrate#vignette stonemoss#tourmaline larou#imogen spurnrose#agreus astrayon
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another amazing chapter!! i would honestly love a movie marathon with them <3 and i love the focus on johnny this time, he's really just a guy with a good heart! bringing reader a blanket and a pillow :((( liu kang at the end there ....... hes so in love with the reader wtf ?!#$??!"? and bi han showing he cares in the most hostile way possible 😭😭😭 bxnsnsnd the only reason i dont want mileena as a love interest is bc i really wanted to see how you would explore her and tanyas dynamic :") kitana as a love interest tho..... thats wife 🤭 and ik this is getting long, but i have a couple questions; do you have an outline for the whole story prepared or is it being changed as you go? since you said adding shang tsung as a love interest would alter the story a bit? and (if it spoils anything, dont worry about answering!) how would you plan on ending it since reader's got a reverse harem going on? do you plan on giving reader an endgame with someone? again, sorry this got a bit long!
(p.s. can i be ☄️ anon? i plan on sticking around for the whole story hehe expect me after every chapter bcus ive subscribed to it on ao3 🫡)
Thank you so much! A movie marathon would be wonderful with the champion squad, but I can imagine how chaotic the emotional whiplash it could get if they all got to chose movies. Like imagine going from a lighthearted rom com to like??? A dark and gritty action movie LMAO I enjoyed writing for Johnny this time around, but I do worry I made him a bit (?) Out of character for his characrer progression, but I'm glad you enjoyed him nevertheless aha ^^ I did really like writing him as a dude who just means well, since he really just is that! Liu Kang is definitely feeling SOMETHING for the reader HAHA Mr. Fire God catching feels? Or is he just really nice 👀? Bi-Han struggles with showing he cares, but he really does. If only there was a therapist character to help him though HAHA Oh I definitely get why you'd want that! Mileena and Tanya's dynamic was interesting for me in this game, so I will have fun portraying that if she doesn't get voted in. If she does, uh, I'll definitely have to figure out what to do LMAOO I love Kitana 🙏 She's my fave female chara and my main in Mk1 !!
I don't mind it being ling at all, I love reading stuff like this and being able to interact with you all!! I don't know many people in my personal life who are willing to hear me obsess over Mortal Kombat like this HAHA
I do have a rough outline of the general story! As well as more defined plot points I like to hit within the arcs of the story. For example, I consider the part of the story we're in to be like the training/pre Outworld arc?? And I have certain moments with characters I want to hit before we move on with the plot! Of course, I am a very impulsive person so I leave it open and easy to change if needed. Events that happen later also tend to change to better fit the flow of the story, but I generally know the direction I want to head with everything.
I plan on giving every love interest an ending (think like endings in mortal kombat for each character!) So ideally I'd like to give each character their own unique ending/epilogue with the reader! People on AO3 also have requested a harem ending which I am open to making, but can't gaurentee due to characters like Shang Tsung. I mighttt make one without certain characters depending on how it all ends, one with everyone, or not one at all! I don't want to stress too much over that right now so that one is still up in the air whether I'll do it or not (especially since we've like, barely started ahaha)
And you can be ☄anon!! I'm happy to hear I have your support on this journey <3 and ty for supporting me there too! I love to see all the feedback from everyone, so I will happily await any comments you make! Thank you again for your kind words and support!
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thoughts on ilw ch 21 (spoilers below)
first, a deep dive on matthias x mc:
Matthias McQuoid: a man ready to let the world burn if it meant he’d get his greatest wish... which poses a very important question:
Is it possible for Matthias to have a happy ending?
Ch 21 gives us readers the classic villain’s monologue- a peek into grandpa Matty’s twisted mind. A part of me was waiting for the ball to drop- to make Lincoln proud and finally be able to say Matthias is an evil bastard. Period. No discussion needed. But then he comes at me with ‘I wanted to spend an eternity with my family by my side’ and I can’t help feeling the slightest pang of sympathy. Grandpa Matty, complex till the bitter end 😭
How could someone determined to do absolutely anything for his loved ones be so bad? While Matthias can claim he’d move heaven and earth for his loved ones (and he damn well near does), it’s not received with open arms. Instead, it drives them further away until he’s left with a dead wife and a son who wants nothing to do with him. I fear that an MC romancing Matthias faces a similar, tragic fate.
They say, "a villain would sacrifice the world to save you*"
*but in the case of grand-daddy Matty, only until you no longer serve him. he’ll sacrifice the world, but never himself
MC x Matthias’ plan to make Devon/Noah the new anchor is only a temporary fix. Eventually that anchor will weaken. Yes, you could argue that he’d just wash, rinse, and repeat the same steps he did with Devon/Noah for the rest of time without batting an eye:
Manipulate the world to his will
Bask in his riches
Spend another millennia with MC at his side #dearcreature
Who knows? Maybe that’s how their arc will end come ch 23. Bring me the epilogue scene of Mathias and MC sipping cocktails poolside. Let the villain have his cake and eat it too, right?
This particular scene makes me think otherwise:
Matthias’ cruel nature is no secret to MC, regardless of their relationship status with him. Romancing him, however, allows MC to justify it. But that doesn’t stop that bit of doubt from creeping up. What happens when they're no longer enough? Deep down, they already know the answer. But as of right now, Matthias loves them. Wants them. Ironically, they voice out this hidden fear to Adrian:
“It’ll never be enough. No matter how much you get, you’ll always want more.”
Stripped down to his most basic parts- Matthias is a selfish, self-serving man. One who takes, but never gives. He commands, but will never follow. It’s not an if, it’s a when; after enough temporary fixes, Matthias will want a permanent solution on his quest towards unlimited power/immortality and no amount of ‘love’ will stop him.
If we’re defining a happy ending as getting everything you want, then yes, it is possible for Matthias to have one. In fact, it is guaranteed. MC’s happily-ever-after with him, however, will always come with strings.
me @ my matthias romancing mc: wake up and love yourself hoe
---
now, onto some general thoughts:
man, what. a. ride. the whiplash from going between these incredibly wholesome moments to these gut-wrenching death sequences is way too jarring. *continues to see what other atrocities i can unlock*
we finally get to see lincoln’s item in action- and as speculated- we can time-travel bitches🔥 how many ways can our scooby gang die in the next two chapters??? the answer will probably traumatize me.
as someone who was blindsided by jocelyn’s betrayal, her flashback scene was amazing to read. the call outside the school, why she wasn’t immediately at MCs side after the cave collapsed- it was all right there 😭
adios to gunnor- im gonna miss his feisty ass lol. ilw has made me a connor stan, so that connor x mc reunion was *chef’s kiss* perfection
the ily scenes 🥺🥺🥺
s/o to the peeps in the ilw discord for sharing screenshots of the good, the bad, and the positively horrifying. yall are real ones ♥
one down. two to go. happy finale weekend!
#ilw spoilers#it lives within#it lives in the woods#it lives beneath#ilw#ilitw#ilb#it lives series#it lives anthology#playchoices#choices#matthias mcquoid#dont get me wrong im curious about how this all ends for everyone#but matty got me extra intrigued#matthias x mc#lincoln mcquoid#abel flint#jocelyn wu#amalia de león#connor green#connor x mc#abel x mc#jocelyn x mc#amalia x mc#lincoln x mc#im writing this when i should be sleeping so hopefully that all made sense#happy finale weekend😎😎
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Thirteen Years [Porco Galliard x reader] Epilogue
** Thank you all to have read this in its entirety and thoroughly enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
Much love,
Dodger <3
Creative liberties have been taken for the sake of the ending, the main plot remains the same.
--
It didn't hurt when he took his final breath, didn't hurt whentheboy he once knew cracked his boneswith an ear piercing snap, nor did it hurt when all he saw was an inky blackness. A darkness he fully allowed himself into, and greeted like an old friend. The sensation wasn't dizzying, not confusing in the slightest as he welcomed his death willingly. A sacrifice woefully taken as means to an end he hoped those still alivecould capture. He wasn't scared when his eyes flickered open once again, not in the slightest. As he was greeted with an overwhelming joy that freedom had to offer - true freedom. Not a freedom that was tested and had restrictions, a freedom he could feel in every fiber of his body. A freedom that held no bounds.
The air around the man was warm and inviting, filling his senses to the brim every time he inhaled. The lush grass underneath of him smelled earthy and stuck to his clothes as he looked up at the dark sky with a smile. Hazel eyes darting across the midnight sky, taking in every ball of light there was to offer. A chuckle passing his lips from he and his comrades conversation, he looked over at the brunette with a loving, cheeky smile. "I actually convinced them to marry me too, Marcy" he mused, and the brunette bolted up from his laying position.
"Are you serious?!" Marcel asked rhetorically with a laugh, "and you never believed me when I said you two assholes were perfect for each other!"
Rolling his eyes, Porco nudged his brother with a laugh. "You don't have to tell me 'I told you so' even in death."
"Apparently I do," he spoke with a laugh, nudging Porco back all the same. "I'm sorry you had to leave them so soon," he said thoughtfully. "Death certainly has a way in finding the worst moments - believe me."
Porco paused a moment from his brother's words and let a sigh pass his lips. "Yeah," he said simply, "it does." Though his sacrifice was given willingly, he did so with a heavy heart. Whatever way his chose, he knew his death was imminent in those last few moments he had, figuring he might as well make it a heroic last stand. Sitting up to join his brother, he glanced away at the ground and sighed deeply, "at least they out lived me. That's all I wanted."
Porco felt another nudge against his arm from his brother, but neglected to look up to see his soft smile. "They'll be here soon enough," he reassured. "Then you both can annoy me for all of eternity."
Dying was such a terrifying concept to you that you didn't take to it willingly. Screaming, gnashing, and trying to claw your way from the dark chasm of your own demise. You hadn't felt the crunch, hadn't heard your sickly snapping and breaking as you were crushed; it happened suddenly and without warning. Dizzy and confused from a sensation completely unknown to you, you were scared and utterly alone. A sensation that you opened your mouth to scream from, but not a decibel of sound leaving your throat. You wanted to cry, but no tears came. All you could think was your own fear - until you suddenly didn't. Almost giving you whiplash the way your emotions jerked to a stop, you felt calm. You felt at peace.
Your eyes fluttered open to a deep, night sky; an awe inspiring darkness speckled with stars that hung in the air graciously. This didn't feel like death, it felt more like a dream as you opened your eyes to such beautiful surroundings. You were laid in a grass field, waking up under the stars like you had just taken a nap and woke up from a nightmare. It felt normal, but it felt safe - a serenity that was suspended in the air that you felt as if you could reach out and grab it.
Sitting up slowly, you cast your gaze to yourself and looked yourself over. Inspecting your hands and other limbs like they were almost foreign, gazing at them to see not a inkling of a scratch or scar. The callouses of your hands, made from years of chopping wood for your parents, were gone. You no longer had the urge to scrub your hands raw, thinking that would somehow erase the blood that was once on them. You felt a peace wash over you that you had never experienced before, the sudden emotion of absolutely nothing.
Your ears perked at the sudden voices in the distance, a murmur but within the silence it was clear as day. You couldn't tell how many, or who, only that you were not alone. But you felt strangely alright with the notion. Your head turned in the direction of the low chatter, to find yourself at the bottom of a grassy hill. A subtle incline that looked as if it went on forever, while you rested at the bottom. Your curiosity peaked to where you found yourself rising from your sitting position, and watched as you slowly trekked your way up the hill.
It was an easy walk, but one that had your mind suddenly buzzing with the thought of who on earth was at the top. "Porco?" You whispered quietly to yourself, hearing the murmurs shift to audible conversation as you climbed. You were able to make out two distinct voices, both sounding similar in regard to tone and sound. One was lower, and had a bit more bite, while the other matched the tone but talked slower and nonchalantly. "But that means that he's-"
But your own quiet musings were cut off by a loud laugh from the top. Your climb was almost complete, as you could see the end but not over it. The laugh in itself made your heart strings pull with an eagerness from familiarity, shifting your pace from a meager walk to a full out run. Stumbling from the incline, but not caring at all as you finally stopped at the top with smile. "Pock!"
You watched as his eyes snapped towards you, and his features drain to confusion. Hazel eyes looking you over a moment before looking to his brother then returning back to you; looking to Marcel to see if he had gone completely mad or he was genuinely seeing you. But his brother wore the same expression, until his gaze shifted to his brother with a large smile. "Get up, you dumbass!" Marcel yelled with a laugh, "don't just sit there and stare at them!"
Scrambling would be an absolute understatement to what the man did, watching him fall before completely yanking himself up with a laugh. The rush of making his way over to you was mind numbing, feeling his arms wrap around you fiercely and nearly take you to the ground. "(Y/n)-" he whispered into your neck as he held you. His eyes squeezed shut to savor every second of bliss that sent shockwaves through him, "you're here."
Wrapping your arms around the man with a chuckle, you closed your eyes in content. "You're here," you repeated to him in contrast. "I never thought I'd see you again, Pock. . ." Your voice was nearly a whisper, an afterthought, as you leaned into his embrace, a strong hold you never thought you'd ever feel again. You knew death was imminent, a dark caverness abyss that no one could dream of escaping, but you didn't know what was held beyond the realm of the living. A biggest fear often being you would forget life entirely, and never know the man you loved a moment longer. "You're actually here with me," you mused with a smile.
He lifted his head from the crook of your neck with a silly smile. "You're never going to get rid of me," his words gentle but whimsical as he chuckled at the tail end. Capturing your lips with his own before you had a chance to reply, you felt your melt at the action. The sensation was enthralling, a cocktail of emotions stirring within you that felt like fireworks. You never imagined death, of all things, could be so perfectly blissful. Never thinking you would see the man again, nevertheless kiss him like nothing else mattered at all anymore.
But you let yourself pull away and your eyes reopen as you realized you weren't alone, shifting your gaze from your lover to the young man who still laid out upon the hill. "Wait-" you began, wracking your brain to whom Porco would be with beyond the veil of life. Realization hitting you point blank and you sucked in a breath, "holy shit," you whispered. "That's your fucking brother Porco," you spoke aloud in awe. "Marcel?"
You watched the man's lips pull into a bigger smile, his eyes drinking in the scene in front of him. Feeling Porco pull away and take your hand within his own, you heard him laugh at your shock. "You should've seen my face when I saw his stupid ass," he mused.
"It's good to see you again, (Y/n)," the brunette spoke as he pulled himself to his feet. "Thanks for taking care of him for me."
There was no need for words anymore, no need for drabble as you now had all of eternity. Your heart felt full at last, bursting at the seams with such an outrageous amount of love and affection you carried for the blonde who held your hand. The blonde that was with you in death, and still held your hand like there wasn't a single moment to lose with you. The blonde that looked to his eldest brother with a cheeky grin before looking back at you - his eternity.
It no longer mattered what war raged on beyond the limits of life, the bloodshed you had placed yourself into a time before, nor the man's place within it. You had no grief about the world beyond, as your world was with the man beside you. Now blessed beyond measure as thirteen years turned into the rest of time itself.
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