#DO Y'ALL KNOW HOW FRUSTRATING IT IS FOR ME SPECIFICALLY.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 10

"The Ghosts of Beverly Drive” by Death Cab for Cutie

#song of the day #lovely rain today and exactly the right amount of cool and windy to get the smell of it in my room #spent my morning performing excel magic tricks for a /very/ appreciative audience I must say #one of my coworkers is very much in demand for help with identifying poorly-labeled fields in our oldest query structures #she's been around for a million billion years and can glance at a column and effortlessly expand its useless acronym title #I tapped her for a question and she was answering me on what I did not realize was an open zoom call in the conference room by her office #and then when she finished answering me she asked me for help with an excel formula in exchange #and I helped her (an easy fix. she is /not/ good at logic structures. always goes for OR when she needs AND and vice versa) #and then I was teasing her and said how she didn't have to hold onto her questions until she had something to barter with #that I like fixing things and I'll help for free #and then her laptop was physically wrenched around by another coworker farther down the table #(not as disorienting as actually being grabbed by the head and bodily turned but even over zoom it was still an Experience) #and the accosting coworker asked if that went for everybody. could anyone ask me for excel formula fixing help. please /please/ #and I was like yes? can't guarantee I can do anything but sure? how much help could you need? #y'all I gotta say. like battling an enthusiastic and especially unthreatening hydra. chibi excel hydra. #it was incredibly satisfying after so many days of intense frustration to have problems I could so easily solve and for such grateful folks #and some of their formulas were pretty fun to set up. always love the little glimpses of behind-the-scenes in special exceptions #any time you put in conditional formatting for if a single specific person's ID is in the 'comment entered by' cell #there's a story there #anyway I heard so many people say 'I don't know why' this morning and then it was such a perfect cool gray day #I've been humming Ghosts of Beverly Drive all evening #'I don't know why I don't know why / I return to the scenes of these crimes #where the hedgerows slowly wind / through the ghosts of Beverly Drive'

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #voxval #staticmoth #character analysis #long post

[teastyun]

*ੈ personal trainer!Abby headcanons

a/n: in need a buff blonde that can make me sweat, sore and breathless pls 🥰 masterlist

-> personal trainer!Abby who's shift starts with doing a warm up along you and ends with her between your legs in the locker room, eating you out until no drops are left

-> personal trainer!Abby who always spots you as an excuse to touch you in public (when she's horny, she would only do booty exercises and grope your ass when no one's looking); "is it just me or did your butt gain some muscle?" *slaps your ass*

-> personal trainer!Abby who tries to maintain professional nonetheless by concentrating on helping you with your exercises, but would occasionally take a peek of your cleavage or flexing abs peeking underneath your tight shirt

-> personal trainer!Abby who always praises you for your hard work and calls you her good girl

-> personal trainer!Abby who loves seeing you all sweaty and moaning from exhaustion after exercises, although she wishes she's the reason for the hot state you're in

-> personal trainer!Abby whose jaw tenses and brain circuits every time you take your wet sticky shirt off

-> personal trainer!Abby who can't concentrates when your hard nipples peak through your gym wear (she wants to pinch them, suck them and squeeze them while you exercise)

-> personal trainer!Abby who loves to make you do specific exercises that stimulate friction in your area below, knowing you hate it when she does them in the middle of y'all's session, only to fuck the built up frustration out of you afterwards in the shower

-> personal trainer!Abby who's not only an aftercare queen in bed, but also after the gym, massaging and rolling your sore muscles and carrying you up and down the steps after leg day

calling dibs on Abby only having those big ass arms because of how fucking hard it is to French braid long hair without having sore muscles afterwards,,

#➶ jules' anthology #tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou2 #abby x fem!reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #tlou #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson #abby headcanons #abby smut #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #the last of us part 2 #wlw #sapphic #wlw ns/fw #lesbian #queer #abby tlou

[indulgentdaydream]

I don’t know if you’ve done this yet but headcanon for what it’s like when reader and Jason get into arguments! (Fluff and angst please!)

coming right up!

I feel like it's very divided in the community on how Jason is in an argument

Some say he gets angry and shouts, some say he'll just walk away immediately, some say something completely different

I feel like it depends on the situation really.

If it's something minor, like arguing over how the dishes should be done, then you guys are talking to each other normally again within two minutes (or at least he is)

if it's something a little more major, (example: either you not taking care of yourself properly or jason not taking care of himself properly) it may take a few hours to a day to resolve it

the most severe i think jason would go is maybe three days at most with no contact before he's reaching out to you again

okay I'mma write a blurb on that now

Jason couldn't stand it. He had been in his apartment, trying to clean his guns. It was routine. Disassemble. Organize. Clean. Reassemble. Test. Done. He'd done it a thousand times. But he just couldn't focus.

His mind was circling around your argument.

He had tried to bring up something about one of your bad habits. Something about your work and your schedule that he couldn't even remember the specifics of.

Thinking back on it, he shouldn't have brought it up when he had. You were agitated. Frustrated to begin with. Overwhelmed. It had been because of your schedule. Jason had commented on how you should look into it.

"You should take better care of yourself. I hate seeing you like this."

It was the wrong choice of words.

You had blown up on him, twisting his words back at him.

"I should take better care of myself? Really? Why don't you go take a look in the mirror before you come nitpicking my life, Jason."

He had gotten offended. He had only been trying to help.

"What the hell you yelling at me for?"

You spun around to face him, the two of you on opposite sides of the kitchen, "You tell me to take better care, yet what do you do for yourself? Everyday I feel like I'm asking you to be careful out there and everyday you don't respect my wishes!"

"It's my job!"

"It's not a job!"

Jason doesn't remember that much after that, either.

He shouldn't have yelled back. You were right. You were right and you were tired and frustrated and he hadn't been there for you like he should have.

You had stormed out shortly afterwards, saying more about how he didn't respect you or your wishes.

He hated admitting that you were right about that, too. It wasn't intentional disrespect, he just hadn't acted right.

He left the pieces of his gun on the table and stood up.

I need to apologize to the love of my life.

...

You were sitting in your apartment, watching TV, when you heard the doorbell ring.

You got up, not caring that you were dressed in your pyjamas still, your regular pyjama shirt replaced with one of Jason's.

In a way, you felt horrible about the argument with Jason, too. You shouldn't have snapped at him. You should've brought up your concerns about his vigilante work a different time in a more polite, adult-like manner. It was eating at you, yet you had no idea if he was ready to talk again yet.

You opened the door without looking through the peep hole first, something that Jason would've chided you for, only to find the man himself standing in your doorway.

He was dressed in his motorcycle gear, a helmet in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"I'm sorry."

It's up to you to accept his apology or not i'm sorry but i don't know how to finish this.

add in the notes how y'all would apologize KEEP IT PG PEOPLE

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd headcanons #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x male!reader #missy writes

[theeblackmedusa]

he's cute

summary: "he cute. ain't right for you, though."

pairing: fontaine x black!fem!reader

warnings: 18+, language, smut, bit of a breeding kink, fontaine's kind of toxic if you squint, needles/sutures, descriptions of blood/violence, use of n word (idk why i'm warning about this but yuh), also there's a lot of AAVE in this so if you "correct" my grammar in some of the dialogue pls don't 💀

He knew he shouldn't be here, but he had nowhere else to go. He was hurt and tired and wanted you to fix him up because he always seemed to heal quicker when you did it.

Fontaine swallowed the lump in his throat as he raised his hand to knock on your green door. You were the only person in the world that made him nervous and he fucking hated it. It had been that way since you were kids. He could face any bully, stand up to any unfair teacher, but his mind went blank when it came to you.

He inhaled as deep as he could manage without sending a stabbing pain through his body before tapping his knuckles against the wood and then returned his hand to his stomach to hold his bleeding wound. A few long seconds passed before your voice came from inside.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," he grunted out weakly.

The locks clicked and Fontaine prepared himself for the wrath you would unleash when you opened the door and let your eyes fall on him. He did his best to stand up tall when the door began to creak open, but it was no use. He looked like shit either way.

"What the fuck, Fontaine?!"

Usually, you'd be concerned when Fontaine showed up on your doorstep bloody and bruised, but all you could feel at the moment was frustration. He'd told, no, promised you that the fighting would stop and that you wouldn't have to see him at his lowest anymore, but it was like he couldn't stay away.

"Got in a fight-"

"Really? I hadn't fucking noticed!"

Fontaine ignored you as you ranted about how he wasn't keeping his word when he was supposed to always keep his word to you. He couldn't focus on how upset you were because it would only get him upset with himself for making you that way.

He pushed past you as you cursed at him for going out and "being stupid" again.

"Isaac still ain't learned to keep his lil punks away from-"

"Always Isaac. Always Isaac! The way y'all fight, I'm surprised it ain't turned to fucking yet!" you laughed bitterly as he carefully lowered himself onto your couch, groaning all the way down.

"Why you all dressed up?" he questioned, switching the subject in hopes that it would make you stop fussing.

You looked good. Really good.

"I got a date, who should be here any second now, so you need to get out before he comes."

Fontaine scoffed at the fact that your pretty black dress and sexy red lips were for someone else. You should be his, but you can't be. Not with all the shit he gets himself into. As bad as he wants you, he can't put you in a position to be hurt just for being important to him.

"Date?"

"The fuck are you, a parrot? Yes, Taine! I have a date!"

You shut your door and stood in front of him, taking in the sight of him.

He looked truly pitiful, cuts and bruises forming on his dark skin. His shirt was soaked from the blood coming from his gash and he looked exhausted overall.

"What happened?" you sighed.

"Just a lil stabbin'. Nothin' I couldn't walk off-"

"Taine-"

"That's all it was," he told you.

"Did anybody-"

"Nah. Ain't nobody got killed," he assured, knowing your concerns.

It had always been a fear of yours. You hated all the violence and death, but more specifically, you hated the thought of that violence and death coming back to bite Fontaine in the ass one day. This neighborhood was full of hotheads and you'd hate for one of them to make Taine a target because somebody died at the hands of him or somebody he was associated with.

"You can't keep doing this, Taine,"

"I won't."

"Promise me."

He shook his head, pushing his hand deeper into his wound for pressure.

"You know I can't do that no more. I hate breakin' my promises to you."

Before you could respond, there was a knocking at your door and you rolled your eyes.

"That the date?" he asked, turning his head to the door.

"Probably," you huffed. "You and your bad fucking timing, Taine. Go hide in the back bedroom or something."

His eyebrows raised in amusement. This was becoming a game for him.

"Oh, you hidin' me and shit? Fuck nah, I been around the longest he gon' have to accept that," he argued. "Matter fact...come in!"

Your eyes widened at his antics and you searched for the closest object to throw at him, but your door was already opening to reveal your very confused date for the night.

"Fuck you," you mouthed to Fontaine before turning to the door.

Your date wasn't even looking at you. Instead, his eyes were planted on Fontaine, who, despite his battered and bruised state, had his grillz on full display as he smirked up at the other man.

"Kalen, hey," you finally greeted, an awkward attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

"This how you roll?" he asked, using a hand to gesture to the bloody man on your couch.

You shook your head, hoping to defend yourself.

"I know how this looks, but I promise to explain later! I-"

"You got other niggas on ya couch and you tryna explain shit? I'm done with yo ass. Thought you was tryna start somethin' for real, but you out here with other dudes."

Kalen was one of the resident hotheads, and arguing with him was pointless.

Fontaine quietly grumbled something that you refused to pay any mind to as you watched Kalen turn right back around and leave, slamming your front door behind him.

You inhaled deeply, Fontaine still mumbling under his breath about how you need to leave "bitch ass dudes like Kalen" alone.

If he wasn't one of the closest friends you had, you would have shut his ass up with a punch to the mouth by now. All you wanted was a night out with someone who could potentially get your mind off of a plain and simple fact: You and Fontaine were not and would never be together.

Every time you thought about it, your heart cracked, but it was something you had to accept. He didn't see you in the way he saw other women, so you'd have to settle for men that couldn't hold a candle to him.

"Could you shut the fuck up, Taine?" you snapped, walking to your bathroom to get the first aid kit.

The faster you patched him up, the faster he would get the fuck out of your house. Next time, you just wouldn't open the door for him. That would save you a hell of a lot of trouble.

"You always get with these bum niggas and get mad when they show that they crazy!" he yelled from the living room.

"He only got that way 'cuz you brought your bullshit to my house!" you shot back, pulling the bathroom drawer open with so much force that you were surprised you hadn't ripped it straight off. "I could have been having a peaceful night with him, but no! I'm here with no man babysitting your ass!"

He rolled his eyes at your sass and began struggling to shrug his jacket off as he awaited your return with the first aid kit. After his jacket, his bloodstained shirt followed. Now, he was shirtless and trying not to let his blood spill all over your couch, knowing that you'd stab him again if he messed it up.

Finally, you returned with a warm towel, a sewing kit, matches, and first aid. You had half the nerve to put it all away and kick his ass out on the street and let him fend for himself, but you cared too much. You always did and sometimes you hated it.

"Hold this," you ordered, shoving the matches and sewing kit into his lap before you took a seat next to him, making sure to plop down and make him jerk slightly.

"The fuck is wrong with you?! Be careful!" he gritted out, glaring at you sharply.

A sarcastic laugh escaped you.

"You aren't careful out there in the streets getting stabbed and shit. Why should I be careful with you now?"

He didn't respond, too exasperated with the night he'd had to entertain any of your taunting about it. He simply turned to you to allow a better angle for you to start cleaning him up.

You pulled out the towel and started dabbing the large, deep cut that spanned across his stomach. It almost made you feel sick. If it had been too deep, he wouldn't be here with you right now.

As you cleaned him, it was as if he could read your thoughts. He sensed your mind racing one hundred miles per second as you went through the "what ifs" of the night. He knew it was impossible to erase those thoughts for you. He was a drug dealer, after all. There was danger in the job, but he could help pull you out of them briefly.

"So, why the fuck you goin' on dates with these lames?" he questioned, exhaling in a vain attempt to fight the stinging of the towel on his injury.

You shrugged.

"Need someone to talk to, I guess," you responded shortly, not keen on telling him that these "lames" were unworthy attempts to make up for the fact that you didn't have him.

"You got me, Yo-Yo...Slick," he replied.

You shook your head. You and Yo-Yo were close, yes, but you and Slick? Not so much. It was like talking to a crazy uncle that should have been put in a retirement home a long time ago.

"I need...something else, Taine."

Dick, you thought.

You were starved of touch and you were getting desperate. You needed intimacy and you were searching for it in men that weren't even the one you wanted it from.

"Like?" he pressed as you put the towel down and began to burn the end of the sewing needle, preparing to stitch him up.

Fontaine was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what you were getting on about, but he liked to hear you say things. Sometimes you wondered if your embarrassment amused him.

You huffed, knowing that he wasn't going to drop it.

"I don't know, Taine. I just need something new. The vibrators ain't cutting it anymore...I need a man, sex," you admitted in frustration, warmth in your face as you tried to fight the embarrassment of your confession.

"You was finna fuck Kalen tonight?" he laughed, attempting to cover up the panic he felt inside at that revelation.

"Maybe not tonight, this time was just gon' be a date!"

Lord knows you won't take me on one, you thought, pushing the needle into his skin to start the sutures and making him hiss.

Fontaine's fingers curled into the arm of the couch as you stitched him up, eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to steady his breathing.

If he hadn't pissed you off so bad, you'd imagine if this is how he'd look if you were on your knees for him, taking him deep into your throat and making him lose his breath.

"He cute, but he ain't good for you," Fontaine rasped through gritted teeth, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

"But you are?" you snapped.

"I ain't say all that," he defended.

"But that's what you meant."

Silence took over the room once more as you finished the stitches and examined your work. Once you assured that you'd fixed him up properly, you grabbed an alcohol wipe, ready to clean up the more minors scars.

"I just...Ion like him, (Y/N)."

You shook your head, gently wiping a scrape on his shoulder and sighing.

"Taine, if you didn't have every bitch in this damn neighborhood begging to sit on your dick, maybe I'd listen to what you have to say on this," you started. "But, I just wanna have fun and fuck around. Not worry about if somebody's good for me or not."

He couldn't fight it this time. Usually he could hold his tongue, keep back that confession that was constantly trying to rip through his body, but this time he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of you in somebody else's bed or kissing on someone that wasn't him. He wanted you, and he needed you to want him.

"We can't have fun and fuck around?" he asked you, grabbing your wrist and stopping your movements.

Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly. It was as if it was banging its fists against you in an aggressive plea for you to free it from your body.

You averted your eyes to anything else but him. They settled on the floral print in the curtains until he used his other hand to grip your chin and make you look at him.

"We can have a lotta fun, baby. What you say?" he suggested lowly, leaning into you so close that his lips were just barely touching yours.

You could have all of him if you wanted. You could've had him a very long time ago, but there was always that unspoken thing between the two of you. The elephant in the room that you two mutually decided was invisible.

"Taine," you breathed out.

"Let me show you how much fun we can have."

You weren't in control of yourself. It was as if his eyes had paralyzed you. Now, you were just his little rag doll as he lifted you in his lap and turned you so that your back was to him. You couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but all you knew was that his hands were now groping your breasts over your dress as he attacked your neck with hot kisses.

"Them niggas out there can't make you feel the way I can, mama."

You shuddered at the nickname. "Baby" had been something he'd called you casually for as long as you could remember, but "mama"...that was new. And it made your stomach do a somersault as you imagined it.

You could picture yourself as a mama for his children. Waddling around plump and being pampered by him for carrying his baby. A soft moan escaped you at just the thought and he grinned into your neck.

"You like that? You wanna be a mama?" he asked, running his thumbs over your nipples until they hardened.

You almost broke your neck nodding in response.

"I can make that happen," he told you. "Fuck my kids into you. Make you mine for real."

An aching grew between your legs at that. You'd be trapped with him forever. No matter what went down between the two of you, you'd always be his, always have a piece of him. The thought shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but you could feel your panties soaking from it.

"Take this off for me," he instructed softly.

You obeyed without question, standing up to slip out of the black dress. Seconds later, you were in nothing but the lacy black underwear you'd put on "just in case" you decided to let Kalen get somewhere.

Fontaine frowned at the panties and reached forward gripping them at the band before tearing the fabric. If he hadn't been spewing that shit about making you a mommy, you would have been pissed. Those were expensive.

You were completely bare in front of him and a little self conscious, but Fontaine was staring at you like you were the lottery and he'd just won. You were perfect, dark skin glowing in the moonlight that shone through the curtains, thighs that he couldn't wait to get between. How on Earth could he have resisted you for so long?

"Shit, mama. Don't think I can wait to get inside you."

You couldn't wait either. You'd been needing him.

"Then take that shit off," you told him with a sickeningly sweet smile, nodding to his pants and belt.

He only chuckled low in response and did as told, unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side somewhere. Next, he lifted his hips, wincing as he lowered his pants down to his ankles.

Before he could start on his underwear, you were lowering yourself to your knees in front of him and pressing your cheek against his thigh. He shivered at the feeling of your warm breath.

After what felt like forever, you lifted your head, pressing a kiss to each of his thighs before pressing one to his hard cock over his underwear.

Fontaine sighed as you brushed your lips against him, teasing him mercilessly.

"Cut that shit out," he warned, eyeing you dangerously.

You smiled before pressing another kiss to the tip and bringing your hands up to the waistband before curling your fingers underneath.

"So bossy," you sighed, pulling his underwear down and letting them fall with his pants.

"Yeah, the boss say get ya pretty ass up here and take a seat."

Your core throbbed at the demand and you raised yourself up to straddle him, fingers gripping his cock and aligning him with your entrance.

Fontaine captured your lips in his, getting a taste of you before he took you. There was no going back. You both knew it.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him, both of you groaning from the sensation. The stretch stung in the best way as you tried to accommodate his size. You had to sit still to adjust, forehead resting against his until you got the courage to move.

Your pace was slow at first, still adjusting to the fullness of him inside of you, but soon, your speed increased, hips rolling against his as you rode him.

Fontaine wasted no time getting his hands back on your tits, massaging one while he worked his mouth on the other. He was addicted to them, watching them bounce as you skillfully worked his cock.

Eventually, your arms found their way around his neck as you leaned on him for support, ass bouncing as you fucked him. Fontaine cursed, letting his hands fall to your bottom to spread your cheeks more.

If the stab wound didn't kill him, you sure fucking would. He raised his hand and brought it back down, striking your ass and revving you on. He'd keep the desperate whimper you let out at the blow in mind.

"Yeah, that's it. Twerk that pretty ass on my dick, baby."

Your ass slapped against his thighs as you rode him, desperate to reach your high. You were so close. You began to feel weak, and he could tell as your pace slowed down.

"I got it, baby. I got it."

He wrapped his arms around you, stilling you against his chest as he began thrusting his hips into you, the tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside you that made you want to scream.

You could feel your orgasm coming like a tsunami ready to crash into you. All that was escaping you were incoherent noises as Fontaine fucked you stupid.

"Tight pussy squeezin' me," he grunted, words becoming slurred as he approached his own climax. "Let that shit out for me, mama."

As if you were hypnotized, your body responded, orgasm washing over you as your walls contracted around him, bringing him to his release as well.

Fontaine spilled into you, warm cum coating your walls as you went limp against him. His hips slowed before stopping completely and he let out a long exhale as he tried to recollect his thought.

"You have fun, baby?" he finally asked when he caught his breath.

If you had the energy, you'd slap the hell out of his cocky ass, but he'd just fucked you into exhaustion and his cum was steady leaking out of you, making a mess all over your inner thighs, so you went with the next best alternative.

"Shut the fuck up or I'm taking them damn stitches out."

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

let me know if you'd like to be added to either a john boyega or teyonah parris taglist bc i'm about to go crazy with them

tags: @wakandas-vibranium

#fontaine #fontaine x reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x black reader #they cloned tyrone #john boyega #fanfiction #fanfic #black writer #theeblackmedusa🐍🐍

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi X Reader)

Epilogue

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: Mentions of injury, blood, stitches, SMUT, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, explicit language, and more that I can't remember.

Word Count: 12.8k (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 186 pages single space of reading.)

A/N: Okay y'all, time to finally put this baby to rest. I was going to wait a little bit longer to do this next part, but with Gavi's injury I needed something to keep me off the Emergency Medicine Manual on ear lacerations. And now Joao is here??? It's just the right time. The universe said so.

Gif Credit: @worldcupwinner

Previously on Just Pretend

"She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink.""

~

"He tried to think of something sad, something painful, anything besides the fact that you were leaning over him, touching him so gently while he was in his boxers."

~

""Don't you think it's a little desperate of you to take off work for a date?"

You looked up at him seething. He stood with his bag strapped over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, hood up to cover his wet hair. His eyes were stern and cold, the usual fire behind them having died down to leave frigid disgust. You would be lying if you said you didn't know about how the Barca men got rid of their sexual frustrations.

"Oh I'm sorry. Next time, Gavi, I'll be classy like you and have weekly sex in a club bathroom.""

~

"It broke him to see you like this - shaking and in tears in a club bathroom, while the man you were trying to impress was probably grinding on other girls. Gavi told himself it had nothing to do with you specifically, just fairness. You were objectively a good person, and you deserved to be treated well by everyone around you. He tugged your shoulder, bringing you in for a tight embrace. You tucked your head into his shoulder, allowing your tears to fall more freely now that he couldn't see you. Something in you began to calm. It was like Gavi had flipped a switch."

~

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

"Drive safely, doctora.""

~

""No I'm serious. You were having a panic attack in your car. At least... At least come inside and eat something. Maybe have some tea? Anything. I just... want to make sure that you're okay before you leave me."

With wide eyes, you looked up at Gavi after this statement. His cheeks burned, realizing he had slipped up.

"Leave my house. Just come inside.""

~

""Can... can we do something? To help me sleep? But then promise you'll forget about it tomorrow?"

Pablo swallowed hard for the nth time that night. He hesitated. There was no way he could promise to forget a single moment of this night with you, but he could control himself from speaking about it, and that was all he really needed to do.

"Anything.""

~

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

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

~

""I wish I could go back to then, sometimes."

"Why is that?"

"I had friends back then."

He looked at you in a strange manner, shifting one strand of hair behind your ear.

"Are we not friends, Doctora?"

"For better or worse, you're my best friend, Pablo.""

~

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.

~

And now, months later...

The rays of early-morning light danced around the disheveled bedroom, bouncing across t-shirts and socks littering the floor and bedside table. They reflected across the buzzing phone screen, emitting a shrill beeping that disrupted the serenity that accompanied this time of the day. Try as he might to shield his ears with the fluff of his 'cuddling pillow', the sound penetrated through, stirring him from dreams of pretty eyes and soft lips. Squinting, the numbers on his screen prompted him to groan, rolling out of his warm sheets and onto the chill of the tile floor, needing to shower and dress before Pedri began his ritual of calling him on repeat until his butt was seated on the plush leather of the newly purchased Lambo.

The steam rippled off his sore muscles, and he lathered his mint-scented shampoo in his hands, Pablo cracked his first smile of the day at the thought of your hands on his shoulders the moment you got to work, or in the calm hours after. The whole house lingered with traces of you, but the bathroom was the worst. He had slowly but surely photographed everything in your own bathroom, replicating your set up in his much more luxurious marble shower. From hair to body to skincare, he had every bottle perfectly arranged for you to use on those days when the shared warmth of Pablo's body against yours was too much to overcome, and he lead you upstairs for a night in his arms. Or even better (and yet also worse), when the two of you remained entangled on what Gavi referred to as the "love sofa", waking up with muscle aches and bad breath, but always with the upmost feelings of content.

Every step of Pablo's morning had slowly but surely started revolving around you. He was floating, weightless in your alluring orbit. Su Sol. Su vida. The deodorant he rolled on was never out of stock under his cabinet, and it never would be since you cuddled into him and said he smelled like the ocean. He had spent his weeks in America (when not bedridden) searching for bottles of 1 million, the cologne that you secretly sprayed on the pillows before bed and onto every item of clothing you 'borrowed'. The hair gel was at the back of the cabinet, fated to collect dust because of a gentle run of your fingers and a whisper that you loved when Pablo was "all soft and fluffy".

And as he slipped on his training shirt, the ringing started. He knew it was Pedri informing him that he was at the door, and he hurried as much as possible, as to prevent the ring tone from driving him to the brink of madness. He scurried down the stairs, careful not to crack his head open while running in socks (well, not to crack it open again). He grabbed his bag from its hook by the door, slipping on his shoes. Before exiting, he looked at the wall beside the door. He ran his fingers up the taped photographs slowly. They dragged across the young faces of his old teammates, over is mother and father and sister on a white-sand beach, dancing past the collection of pictures from the Supercopa and the Ballon D'or, and rested on the only picture frame hanging on the wall. It was one of those tacky pink ones that stores sold on Valentine's day, with AMOR written in chunky red glitter. He was sat on your chair at work, your stethoscope around his neck and you perched in his lap in your red scrubs. His right cheek was smooshed from the force of the kiss you left on it, bright red lipstick already marking his other cheek and his lips. He leaned forward, placing a swift kiss to the cool glass, before running out the door to finally stop the incessant calls.

"You know if you had been three minutes later, we would have had to skip the coffee shop." Pedri said, pulling out before the passenger door was fully shut.

"I would rather walk to training than skip that."

"How much money do you make to be buying your girl a large coffee every morning?"

"I would sell my house to keep buying her coffee in the morning."

The words 'that's a little extreme' stopped on the tip of Pedri's tongue - if Gavi was not going to be extreme in his love, then who would be?

~

"And finally, Nicolas, we have the physio who will be overseeing much of your work. I'll be introducing you two now."

It was comforting to know that Dr. Gonzalez was just as dry with everyone. The muffled words came with a swift three knocks at the door, and he peaked his head in before you could release the permission from your lips.

"May we enter, Doctora?"

"Yes, of course, Dr. Gonzalez. I have no players on my schedule until 8:30. Please come in, make yourselves comfortable."

He entered with a tall, muscular boy behind him, his dark curls falling in front of his bright blue eyes. His scrubs shirt puckered in the chest area, in danger of bursting due to a deep breath. He shuffled in awkwardly, opting to stand behind Dr. Gonzalez rather than occupy the seat next to him.

"Now, Nicolas. Before you is a shining example of what the individuals in your program are capable of achieving. This is-"

"Oh! You're Doctora Gavira!"

There was a moment of radio silence that circled the room, before you had the courage to whisper out, "...what?"

"Nicolas, don't interrupt." Dr. Gonzalez decided to ignore what the new kid had just called you. "This is Doctora y/n y/l/n, who many people refer to as just Doctora. Please do not do that without her explicit permission. She joined us a little over a year ago from the same program you are in, and has been an effective technician who has brought medical success to the club. Barring any tragedies like pregnancy, she will become the club's Assistant Head of Physiotherapy. Despite your initial examination being slightly more disappointing than hers, we believe you can excel under her mentorship. You will be fired upon her first complaint. I'll leave you two alone now to be acquainted. Doctora, please allow him to shadow you through the medical examinations happening today. Thank you both."

Nicolas sat in shock at all the insults that had just been so casually shot through him while you smiled sweetly and waived your boss out the door. As soon as the click of the door was heard, your smile dropped and you were leaning menacingly over the desk.

"Okay, confess right now or lose your job: who told you to call me Doctora Gavira"

"What? I- no one! Are you not married to Gavi?"

"Where would you get that idea?" You asked while sitting back down, the visible tremble in the boy before you extinguishing the anger within you.

"Well, I walked into work this morning and you were getting out of your car and I was saying hey to Ronald who I met during my interview and I said 'oh who is that she's really cute' and he was like 'oh that's the Doctora and you should be careful saying stuff about her because she's Gavi's girl and he will rip your throat out and then she will sew it back into your body' and so after that I just assumed you were his wife because like footballers aren't usually that serious about their girlfriends and I follow a bunch of Gavi fan accounts and none even said that you were his girlfriend because there's this other girl who is actually kind of awful-"

His tangent was only interrupted by a soft knocking at your office door. You yelled for whatever angel to enter, grateful from the save from the worst verbal diarrhea you had seen in years. And it was the sweetest angel of all who poked his head through the door, hair freshly washed and frizzing slightly in the August humidity. He held a large chilled coffee in one hand, using the free one to rest his weight on the back of your chair. He leaned down to complete his routine with a good morning kiss, but the look you gave Pablo over the rim of your glasses made him hesitate. It was then that he noticed the individual sat across from you. Locking eyes with him, Pablo opted for a kiss on the crown of your head, muttering a gentle “Bon día, mi doctora.”

Nicolas' eyes followed the way your hand smoothed over Gavi's bicep in the most obvious way possible, and it had the young Sevillano tensing.

"Pablo," you started before he could come up with his own conclusions, "meet Nicolas. He's going to be training under me for his work placement."

"Nice to meet you, Pablo!" Shooting up out of his chair, he extended a sweaty handshake that was left hanging in the air.

"Gavi."

"Huh?"

"Call me Gavi."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought because-"

"You want to call me the same name my girlfriend does?" A smile played across Pablo's lips: he was obviously joking, but the intern before him shook like a leaf and sweat bullets, hand still frozen in the air. Letting out a soft laugh, Pablo took his hand, embracing the new intern and reassuring him that he wasn't about to be slaughtered.

"All the boys call me Gavi - don't want you to feel out of place. Welcome to the club. You have the best teacher - I would know."

"Right! Because she's you're girlfriend!"

"Because she's the physiotherapist that's been working on me for the last year..."

Silence once again.

"Nicolas, maybe you should go watch the warmups. I'll be out in a few minutes. Field is out the door to your left."

The boy sent you a look of gratitude to be freed from ... whatever that was. He all but ran out the door, leaving it slightly ajar as Pablo watched him turn the corner, finally having enough privacy to capture you in the delicate kiss he had been waiting for since he saw you a mere 10 hours ago.

"Bon dia, Pablito. Did you sleep well?"

"Not as well as when you're next to me."

Despite asking the same question for weeks on end, he always gave the same answer. It was about a month into the two of you officially dating when he asked you to move into his place. Of course you vehemently declined, citing reasons such as not being able to break your lease and not wanting to intrude on his space. But deep down there was the unspoken truth. Every day you held your breath waiting for Pablo's answer to change. To tell you that he had slept just fine on his own, and that he may sleep even better beside someone else. The day had yet to come, and a small part of you dared to hope it never would.

"That sounds rough. Any way I can make it up to you for going home?"

"Here? In your office? I mean if you insist..."

You smacked him playfully on the arm as both of your giggled filled your office space. Pablo was acutely aware of the fact that every time he spoke to you about the subject, it was in vague terms and half truths. Pablo wanted you to move in more than he wanted almost anything else. In his mind it was the perfect scenario: he would wake up with you enveloped by his arms, breathing rhythmically against his skin. You would get into the shower, hot water rolling down your spine as he laid out your scrubs (the red and black ones were his favorites). He would make you a coffee on the ridiculously expensive espresso machine that would be arriving in 7-14 business days - right after your school and work joint evaluation. The drive to work would be filled with soft melodies and hushed conversations. The drive home would be more vibrant, with Pablito on the AUX and the windows rolled down. And then he would get to come home and help you make dinner, trying not to burn or spill as he set two porcelain dining bowls on the coffee table, under the watchful, scowling eyes of the two of you frozen in a photo. Then he would lay his head back on the couch, his chin on your crown, running his fingers up and down your back to trace your spine. The TV would be playing reruns of the same show for the thousandth time, but it didn't matter. It was the best possible feeling Pablo knew: familiarity.

It was hard being a generational talent. Sure, it came with tons of admiration and praise, but it was also riddled with constant change. Changing your hometown for a big new city. Trading your neighborhood full of friends for an academy of classmates, who you were always reminded were your competition. Exchanging hugs from mom and home-cooked meals with yelled instructions and drills in the rain. Even now, after years of playing with the first team and reaping the success, Pablo couldn't help but think about how nice it would be to stay in one city all the time, taking one set of roads that he could memorize.

But now he had you. And not in the same way as before. In a sense, he always had you. No matter how much you were irritated with the boy, you were always a phone call away. You were always ready to help heal his ailments, despite the eye-rolls that came with it. And when he had come to you at his most vulnerable, trembling hands and open heart, you had been as you always were: ready to take him as he was and treat him with delicacy and love.

No matter where Gavi went, there was still something familiar with him. When he was on a red-eye to Madrid, he could lead against the curve of your shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair and feeling the warmth of your skin. On a tiring night after training, he could always come home and be beside you, tracing the curves of your body that he had memorized, every mark and dip on your skin a landmark that reminded him he was home. The sound of your voice was melodic and soothing, and he could never get enough of the way you said his name.

"Mi Pablito."

Now was no different. The sound of your scrubs shifting, the chill of your coffee against his palm, the way your lips moved against his, so soft with delicate pressure - all of it he already knew, and that was the best part.

"Are you going to come over tonight?"

He always asked. Again, he knew the answer was going to be a huff followed by a shy 'of course', and yet he asked anyways. He loved the stability and the routine. He loved hearing you say that he was the person you preferred to spend your time with.

"Mm of course, mi Pablito. But I might be a little late. I have a lot of paperwork."

"Late? As in, you wouldn't go home with me?" Pablo's pout was adorable, puffy and pink and complemented by his beautiful brown eyes that reflected the fluorescent lights.

"I'm going to try my best not to be here too long, but it's looking like I'm going to be a while. I have to finish the reports about your improvement over the last year for my evaluation next week, do the medical examinations for the new first team members, and now I have this new kid Nicolas."

"First team players? Iñigo and Oriol finished their exams weeks ago. Besides, tomorrow is deadline day. Why would they leave the medical exams until now." Pablo was already stripping off his shirt and laying in your table, ready for you to help with his persistent back pain. You had initially thought he was lying, searching for any reason to have your hands on him during business hours. But then you actually felt his latissimus and erector spinae, and they were so tensed that for a moment you thought about injecting a relaxer into his lower back. So every morning he came in for tension relief at your magical fingertips. But the coos of "aw poor baby" and you leaned over him for half an hour every morning was definitely not going to illicit any complaints.

"Oh, well, there's still more medical procedures to be done. Fermin and Lamine have to be re-examined since Luca forgot tests 12.4 and 17.1. And Joao needs to get his examination." You placed your hands on Pablo's back, apologizing softly for how cold they were. Your first session after the two of you had gotten together, he threatened to burn every latex glove in the club. He hated the way they felt, and now that he was having a lot of skin-to-skin time, he felt that the gloves were pointless.

"Oh, I forgot that Cancelo had flown in. He's going to do wonders for our defense. Just like you're doing wonders for my back, mi amor." He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, breathing deeply and focusing on the feeling of your fingertips. Looking over your shoulder, you ensured the hallway was empty before leaning down to kiss the gentle dip where his spine was. It released a little giggle from Pablo, who tutted and said that you were trouble.

"Just relax. You think I would ever get you in trouble?"

"Oh I was in trouble the first moment that I saw you, mi Doctora."

Before you could respond, your office door swung open, and Nicolas' worried face was staring back at you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctora!! I should have knocked! I didn't realize you were... occupied."

"Why did you pause before- you know what, I don't want to know. What's up Nicolas?"

"Mister Xavi wanted me to tell you that Joao is here on the field, and that he should be examined as soon as possible so he can join the morning training."

Your fingers stilled and your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Gavi felt your shift but remained silent. When the two of you first started dating, he had been very protective, borderline your official spokesperson in the club. He would tell the other players you couldn't meet with them when he knew you had paperwork, and would react harshly to those who questioned your medical decisions. It had gotten you reprimanded by Dr. G, who had reminded you that your relationship should not interfere with your work. And you didn't need to be a genius to know that the players being too intimidated to get physiotherapy was 'interference with work'.

"I had him on the schedule for later this afternoon. I guess Mister wants him training earlier. I have 10 minutes left with Gavi, and then we'll both be out on the practice field."

Just as Gavi's eyes began to droop and his muscles relaxed enough for him to drift into a peaceful sleep, you were by his ear whispering for him to wake up.

"Come on, mi campeon - you have to go to training."

"Mm I don't want to," he mumbled as he rolled over, abs on display as he smiled up at you. "It's so nice and comfortable here."

You rested your hands on his hips, tracing them slowly up his slow stomach, leaving a trail of heat in your path. They continued upward until your palms lay flat on his pecs, and you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Stay here then. Take a little nap while I finish the medicals. In the meantime, they'll have Fermin take your place, and then he'll win the Golden Boy next year, and maybe he'll fall in love with his physio on the sidelines..."

"Ah yes, I can see it now," he said, "the beautiful story between Fermin and his physio... Nicolas."

You both burst out laughing at the mental image of the tall Nicolas sweeping Fermin into a homoerotic, Mbappe-Giroud embrace after he scored a goal. You walked over to the chair, tossing Gavi his training shirt and watching it slip back over the defined, rippling muscle, remaining taunt against his biceps. He opened the door for you, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the field. The 9am sun was beaming on the late August grass, reflecting the dew on the grass and the beads of sweat glistening on the boys that were running laps and stretching (some better than others - you made a mental note of who you would probably be seeing later). Pablo shot you a quick wink before scurrying off towards his peers.

"Bon dia, Doctora!" The yell came from across the pitch, and was accompanied by the excited waves from Fermin and Balde, who were having the time of their lives making fun of their whipped friend. Pedri had been part of that group initially, joining in on the taunting before games about how he was looking for injuries just to have her run onto the field. He had lingered with the other boys in the locker room to point out any bruises or scratches that Pablo had acquired, teasing him about 'finally getting some'. But since you had become best friends with his crush/ nemesis, it had become a lot harder to make fun of the younger boy without repercussions.

The older players had been overjoyed for the two of you, especially uncle Lewy. His bond with Gavi was special to him, and far surpassed just their relationship on the field. He saw his younger self in Pablo, and couldn't help the feeling he got watching the boy fall in love. The way that Gavi was fiercely protective of you, so excited to watch you shine, reminded him of Anna and all the light she brought to his life. It was a sight that made everyone's chest swell - watching the two of you interlock fingers and walk to your car every evening, smiling sweetly and leaning against each other. Robert hoped that the happiness Gavi felt was lifelong.

"Bon dia, Mister." You approached the coach and he met you with a smile and a clap on the shoulder.

"Doctora, always a good morning when we have you with us during practice."

"I'm flattered, coach. I heard from Nicolas that you wanted me to do Joao's medical now? I was scheduled to oversee morning practice and complete his medical this afternoon. Has there been a change in what needs to be done today so I can adjust the schedule?" You asked, watching the players do their drills.

"Oh, I guess we didn't send out a memo. Not surprising, because the deal was finalized last night. You're correct, Cancelo is going to arrive within the hour and be examined in the afternoon. However, Joao had already arrived and is currently changing. I think his exam should go quickly, given that you can work off of his previous La Liga paperwork, which should be in your email. I would really appreciate if you could complete it now so that he can join the second half of this morning's training."

If the confusion wasn't evident across your face, you decided to vocalize it.

"Sorry, Mister, but isn't Cancelo Joao? Is there something I'm missing?"

"Oh," he laughed out, "my apologies. I announced it before warm-ups began, but you were still in your morning session with Gavi. The club has secured a loan deal for this season for Joao Felix from Atletico. He should be waiting for you in the hall by your office."

Gavi watched the color drain from your face from across the field, and you couldn't help the feeling of anxiety that flooded your system. If you hadn't heard the announcement, then neither had Pablo, and given your track record with Felix, you knew that it wasn't going to be his favorite news.

"Ah, that's great news!" You tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "I just need to get Nicolas so he can shadow me and give the boys some stretch instructions before you get started with the team drills. Do you mind?" Xavi indicated for you to step on the field, and you all but sprinted over to Gavi and his teammates. Nicolas stood there, trying his best not to die of anxiety while chatting with the players and taking notes on the specific stretches that each one of them has been assigned by you.

"Hi Doctora." The greeting came from Ferran, who, after several weeks of therapy, had reached out to you to apologize for his behavior. He was keeping his relationship professional, and the personal growth you had seen was surprising. It didn't erase the hurt he had caused you, but allowed you to work with him without wanting to punch him in the face. Maybe after some more time (and therapy), you could be as friendly with him as the boys were.

"Hi Ferran. Looking good, boys. Pedri, that right hamstring needs more work." You quickly shot out, receiving a sigh as he worked out his leg for the third time. The rest of the boys looked like they were ready to engage in small-talk, but you beat them to it.

"So, are you guys excited about the new signings coming in today?" You asked, bouncing on one leg to the other.

"Very. I think Felix is going to be a fantastic contribution to the last third of the field. Will really help our attacking power." Pedri said absent-mindedly, grimacing at the effort necessary to help release the tension in his thigh.

"Felix?" Gavi was obviously confused, eyebrows stitching together, making him look even more angry bird-like than usual.

"Oh, right, you weren't here." Fermin said, turning to his childhood friend. "They finalized Joao Felix. He's arriving today and training with us after his medical exam."

"Which I'm about to go do right now." You added on quickly, hoping to rip off the Band-Aid.

"You're going to be alone with Felix?" Gavi asked in what was probably a louder tone than intended. Pablo would never describe himself with the word 'jealous'. Why would he be? He knew what he brought to the table. He was cute, successful, and was absolutely head-over-heels in love with you in a way that bordered obsession. He knew that the Portuguese playboy had nothing on him in that respect. But whenever he thought back to the stories you had told him about your first meeting with Felix, or back to the Ballon D'or when he had so effortlessly wrapped himself around you, it made the bile rise in his throat.

"Well," you tried to ignore the looks of the players around you, with their ears pricked up and waiting waiting with baited breath for your response. "Not alone. Nicolas is going to be there."

Silence. A beat passed. The another. Then another and another until the silence grew almost unbearable.

"Alright, mi Doctora. See you during the break, then." Pablo's soft eyes reached yours, and you unexpectedly found not a singular trace of negative feeling. Not one heat flare of jealousy or anger crossed his features, and it was borderline unsettling.

~

Pablo's eyes remained trained on you as you re-emerged, Nicolas to your left and Joao flanking the right. The three of you spoke freely and lightly, and Gavi strained his ears to try and listen in on what had the trio giggling. As Nicolas departed to report back to Dr. G, you continued towards Pablo with Joao by your side.

"I know you two have met and shoved each other many times," You said, extending your hand to help pull Pablo to his feet. "But I thought it was time to introduce the two of you on friendly terms. Pablo, this is Joao Felix, our new striker. And Joao this is Gavi, our brilliant golden boy midfielder and," you waved at him to lean in closer, "my brilliant boyfriend." The wink you shot him had Pablo blushing like a schoolgirl, and Joao clapped him on the shoulder affectionately.

"Ay, look at that. Always the winner, irmao. The doutora was actually a big part in helping me come to the club of my dreams, so I'm really thankful for her."

"Really?" Pablo questioned.

"Remember? I told you I was reviewing his health profile. We did it together actually when I was over for-"

"For when Aurora was in town. You're right."

You left the boys shortly after, sitting at your desk anxiously. You knew that Gavi's reaction was... uncharacteristic at best. He had been very unhappy when he found out that you were reviewing his file for a transfer. Help was also a relative term...

"Mi vida, you can't be serious!"

"Pablo, they didn't ask me for my personal opinion on the matter. They sent me the medical profile of a player for a injury probability analysis and fitness examination. They didn't even include his full name."

"Right. J. F. from Atletico Madrid. What a mystery!"

Pablo flopped onto the bed, arms crossed and pouting as he got under the covers. He looked down at his lap, praying that you didn't use the J-word. He wasn't jealous. He wasn't. Feelings like jealousy and insecurity never found their way into his system. But he just... didn't like it. He didn't like the idea that someone was walking around thinking about you in a sinful manner. He replayed over and over in his head your account of the first time you had met 'Portugal boy'. How he 'hoped to see more of you'. Sick bastard. Your sweet, innocent mind had let the comment slide quickly, interpreting it as him wanting to see you around. But Pablo, who had spent the last year of his life trying to protect you from creeps and weirdos (his colleagues), he looked into it more deeply. See more of you meant see more of you, aka your body. Now Pablo was in bed seething at his own theories. Of Joao flirting with you, getting you alone, getting hard from your gentle touches as you simply did you job, and then...

"No. I don't like it. Just lie and say that he's too mentally ill for the club. We already have Ferran and Pedri - the club therapists are overworked." He pulled the covers up to his chin and turned his back to you, and you could tell that he was genuinely distressed. You crawled under the covers as well, your nightgown shifting up around your legs.

"Aw, lito, come here." You slid into the space behind him, tugging on his arm lightly to get him to unravel. He let himself go slack, allowing you to pull him into you. You turned him to lay on your chest, shell of his ear tuned into the rhythmic breathing of your heart. You pulled his arm around your waist, and he couldn't resist the urge to cuddle closer into you. One hand came up to gently rake your nails through his soft locks. The pressure of your lips on his crown allowed him to release a shaky breath. "Talk to me."

"I just... I don't know. When you bring him up it just turns my stomach." The pout could be heard in his voice as he brought the rest of his body into your side.

"Are you jealous?"

"No of course not." He breathed out all at once. "I would like to think our relationship is stronger than your old celebrity crush working with you." He felt the vibration of your chest as you giggled, and it lightened up the heavy feeling in his core. "But it just... doesn't feel good. Knowing there's someone else who wants you and gets to be so close to you."

You refrained from telling Pablo that was the literal definition of jealousy. And simultaneously, he refrained from telling you that a small, very very tiny part of his brain wasn't sure that you wouldn't leave him for Joao. The man was beautiful, there was absolutely no denying it, and had experience being in a long term committed relationship. It certainly didn't help that Joao was two years your senior. Pablo's insecurity around his age fluctuated in intensity, but was persistently present. It had gotten worse the more strangers found out about your relationship. When he told his friends back in Sevilla, he was met with wolf whistles and encouragement to 'improve quickly' before you left for someone more 'experienced'.

And now Pablo's brain was moving rapidly, thinking about all the small jabs his friends had made about your sexual life. "Just make sure she isn't faking it." That particular one had come from Pedri of all people, who rapidly realized his attempt at a harmless joke had sent the younger boy spiraling. Were you faking? Did you want someone who had slept with more women? Were your instructions about where he should move or how hard he should go normal? Or was that a product of sleeping with someone freshly 19?

"Do you wish I was older?"

Pablo had asked this question often, but always got the same answer. He always got the reassurance that you knew he needed in difficult moments.

"Of course not, Pablo. I don't wish anything about you, or about us, was different. Except maybe I wish we would have gotten together sooner." You punctuated the sentiment with another soft kiss to his head, cradling him close to your chest. He didn't relax this time, however. He followed up with a question that had been plaguing him since the two of you got together, but that he never had the courage to know the answer to.

"Do you... wish I was better at sex?"

You were frozen as Pablo buried his burning cheeks into your side, embarrassed by the way he had decided to phrase his query. You brought your hand up to grasp his chin and turn him to meet your eyes.

"Why would you ask that?"

"I don't know, it's just... something I've been thinking about."

"Has the sex not been good for you?"

"No! No of course not," he sat up on one elbow, trying to quickly remedy the situation so that you both wouldn't stay up until the early hours riddled with anxiety.

"I've just been thinking because... well one time me and the boys were talking..."

"Oh no here we go."

"And Pedri mentioned how it kind of takes a long time to get girls to finish."

"Mhm..."

"And then Fermin agreed."

"I can't believe you guys had this discussion in front of baby Fermin." You clasped a hand over your mouth.

"He's older than I am and that's not the point. Focus, mi doctora. So they were talking about things to make a girl finish faster and naturally I was confused because you don't take that long to finish."

"Pablo please tell me you didn't-"

"I obviously didn't say 'oh my girl cums in under 5 minutes', but I just disagreed with them." Your head was in your hands as he continued his story.

"So then they were like no no it takes forever, especially the first time. And I said that the last time I had sex with a new girl, it only took me like 10 minutes." You were bright red, unable to respond to the news that the team was hearing how long your average orgasm took.

"And then Pedri said that you might be faking it and that's why it didn't take a long time. And then I asked why a girl would fake it and he said because when the guy can't lay pipe well the girl gets bored and fakes it so the sex can end faster. And I know that I really like having sex with you but I don't know if you like having sex with me so-"

You interrupted Pablo by grabbing his chin and pulling him towards you, kissing his pouting lips mid sentence. It was too much - too adorable for you to control yourself.

"Pablito, I love you." You held his face in your hands, just watching the way his beautiful eyes reflected the low light of the bedside lamp.

"It's okay, you can tell me if I'm bad." He said softly, genuinely waiting for his feelings to be hurt.

"You're not bad, Pablo. Not even close. You're actually... okay don't start dancing when I say this but you're the best sex I've ever had."

You could feel the blood pool to his cheeks and the muscles tense to repress a smile.

"Is that so? Please feel free to elaborate." You rolled your eyes, knowing you were feeding his ego, but knowing he probably needed it in that moment.

"I've had sex with other people and none of them... well they never got me to finish, you know? I didn't even think I could finish during sex before you."

Pablo's head dripped to rest against your chest, face nestled in the valley of your breasts, breath labored against you. Your words were most certainly turning him on. He brought his hands to your thighs, playing with the hem of your satin slip, and you knew you were not going to be sleeping for the foreseeable future.

"Can you... can you keep talking, mi amor?" Who were you to deny your baby?

"You know it's not just the way you move your hands," you started as the material began to rise up your legs. "It's just you, Pablo. Just the thought of you gets me ... soaking." He let out a strangled moan against you, your words obviously having the desired effect.

"Sometimes I see you when we're at work, licking your lips or wiping your sweat with the hem of your shirt and I have to look away because otherwise," You stopped to let out a shaky breath as his hands rested on your hips, fingers ghosting the hem of your dampening panties.

"Otherwise I would have to lock my office door for a suspicious amount of time."

It was your turn to moan softly as he started kissing down your sternum, hands also moving your panties down to expose you to the cool air and Pablo's hungry eyes.

"Have you," he paused to kiss your ankle, the charm that hung there teasing him. He had seen it after your first night together, the blank tag hanging on the interlocking chain. He had stolen it one day after you look it off to shower, getting a stethoscope engraved into one side and a football onto the other. His favorite sight was to watch it dangle by his ear.

"Have you... ever," another kiss, up by your knee, "thought about me," kissed to your inner thigh now, "when you..." he trained off, hands reaching up to gentle massage your boobs while he centered his face, labored breathing hitting your soaking pussy.

"Yeah..." you breathed out, almost to the point of vibrating when he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Tell me about it." He said, looking up through gorgeous lashes as he poked his tongue out, the tip teasing your clit in soft, delicate kitten licks.

"There was this one time... before we," you moved a hand to your breast, placing it over his. You needed the contact, needed more of Pablo. "Before we got together."

"Oh?" His verbal response was short, but the admission made him use the rest of his tongue, still licking slowly and deliberately, but now capturing more of you with his perfect mouth.

"I was watching you in- ah - in a match," he moved his hand off your chest to lace his fingers with yours. "And you wiped your brow with the hem of your shirt and- ah fuck Pablo." He was now flattening the length of his tongue against you, the soft pressure making you want to buck your hips up into his gorgeous face.

"I really want to hear this story, mi sol. So if I need to stop.."

"No!" You said while shooting up, tightening your hold on his hand. He resumed his pleasurable ministrations and you tried your hardest to form words.

"I saw the bottom of your abs and thought about what it would b-be like if I was on top of you..." He was getting more deliberate now, moving his tongue in figures and slipping it into you occasionally, which made your back arch off the mattress.

"And then you- fuck! You spit on the field and I just.. I.. I had to...Pablo fuck I can't!"

Your eyes were shut now, unable to do anything but whine as Pablo sucked on your clit, rolling it in his mouth before releasing it and fucking you slowly with his tongue. He pulled away completely, kissing you once before he came up to meet you at eye level.

"What did you do, mi amor?"

His eyes were looking at yours with such a delicateness that you almost came on the spot. He looked at your swollen lips, your blown out pupils, the way your chest heaved, and he was ready to pledge his life to worshipping you. He looked at you the way people looked at paintings of angels: in admiration of a beauty too great to be human. He kissed you slowly and deeply, fingers circling your slick entrance.

"It's okay, tell me."

"I... I got off on my couch to the thought of you spitting on me. Or, doing anything to me actually. You don't understand how much I love you, Pablo. Everything you do sets me on fire."

With that, he captured your lips again, swallowing the high pitched whine he elicited by slipping in his fingers. He pumped you slow and hard, making sure to feel every ridge within you, taking his time to find that one magic spot that would return the angel underneath him to heaven.

"I love you more, mi vida." He brought his lips down to your neck, kissing you sweetly, before moving his lips to join his hands. Suddenly it was all too much. His plump and swollen lips sucking on your clit as two of his fingers pumped in and out of you and a merciless pace, and moments later you were grinding onto his face, cutting off his air, and whimpering out how much you loved him and how good he was to you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body arched so far off the mattress you were sure you were floating. When you came down from your high and regained your vision, you brought Gavi up to you, kissing him passionately.

"You're amazing, Pablo. You're always so good to me. So, so good I love you."

"Yeah?" He was leaning over you now, watching you fight sleep while recovering from the power of the climax you had just reached. He kissed your neck sweetly, sucking gently on your throat to leave a beautiful bruise at the base - enough to be visible the next day, but not dark enough to where it couldn't be covered with some makeup.

"Yeah. You're so good, Pablo." You ran your fingers through his hair for the millionth time, keeping him pressed against you, the electricity running through you. You moved one hand down to Pablo's boxers, rubbing his weeping member over his boxers, making his movements falter. His breathing was heavy against you, and you felt his hips move to rut against your palm.

"If you're tired," he panted out, "we... we can stop. I don't want you-"

"No," you moved to sit up, pushing Pablo's shoulders so that your positions were reversed, with his back against the headboard and you straddling his hips. You moved down, lips on his pulse point while your hands helped him removed the boxers caging him in.

"I want to make you feel good, mi Pablito. Let me show you how good you are."

Your naked pussy, still slick from your arousal and Pablo's spit, moved against his leaking cock, the friction driving both of you crazy. You continued to suck on his neck, moving from behind his ear down to his collarbone, and making your way back up to his Adam's apple. It was romantic and slow and sensual, the way his shaft rocked back and forth between your lips.

"Mi amor, so good, I- fuck." It was his turn to be left speechless as you slowly seated yourself on the tip of his dick. Your forehead was pressed against his, and he opened his eyes to gaze into yours as you seated yourself fully. Hands met his hard chest as you struggled to breathe, the stretch too pleasurable for you to want to move an inch. Grabbing at your thighs and leaning back against the headboard, Pablo began lifting you up and fucking into you, slow and hard and deep. He was in 7th heaven, watching the way your eyes watered from the overwhelming feeling of being so full.

"You're so good lito - the best. Fuck, fuck, no one can fuck me like you can."

"Ay mi amor," he sped up, the praise going straight to his libido, "going to cum."

"Cum inside me. Please, Pablo. I'm yours. Make me yours."

He encircled the back of your neck and brought your lips together in a harsh clash of tongue and teeth as he came, moaning into your mouth. He brought a hand down to finish you off as well, forcing his eyes open to capture yours screwing shut in pleasure.

As the two of you laid down for bed, exhausted and ready for sleep, Pablo took his normal place on your chest, bringing up your leg over his waist. He loved to be this close to you.

"So, lito, you think those were real?"

"Your words can lie, mi Doctora, but you of all people should know that you can't fake that death grip. That was definitely real."

~

It had been a week since then, and the new season was three games deep. Gavi had his insecurities quelled slightly by your consistent affections (and after ensuring he could make you cum), but it didn't make him like Joao any more than before. He still harbored negative feelings towards the Portuguese player. To the other club members, it was understood that Gavi was upset over his childhood friend Ansu being replaced. But to you and his closest friends? It was evident that he wasn't happy with the immediate comfort Joao felt towards you.

"Good morning, doutora! Thank you so much for that late night session - you really worked out my thighs like magic."

"Oh, are you coming out with us to the club? You should - I want to see how you look when you're not all professional."

"The boys from Chelsea say Hi, doutora. They're all telling me how lucky I am to be working under you."

All these comments had gotten under Gavi's skin in the days they were training, and today was no different. While Gavi was running drills, Joao found you on the side of the field and began a conversation with you about F1.

"Oh yeah, it sucks sometimes, but I can't be anything other than a Ferrari fan. I was able to get Pablo into it as well because of the Netflix show."

"Oh, is he also a Ferrari boy?"

"Oh, well he is, but I think he just does that for me. He's secretly rooting for Hamilton every race."

And despite not knowing the topic of the conversation, it absolutely boiled Gavi's blood to watch you talk and laugh so freely with this man who so obviously wants you. His frustration came out on the field, gaining him swift corrections from Xavi to think with his brain and not whatever was angering him at that current moment. When training concluded, he stood near Joao in the locker room, listening to his conversation with Cancelo and Ferran. When the Portugese boy noticed the small Spaniard's stare, he turned to him.

"Great job in training today, Pablo."

"Gavi. Only my parents and my girlfriend call me Pablo."

"Ay, sorry, Gavi. Must have gotten confused after taking to y/n."

"Are you trying to fuck my girlfriend?"

The question sent a shock around the locker room, and suddenly, there was silence. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear the response to the question and the subsequent aftermath.

"What?"

"You have like forty guys on this team that you could be working to get closer to and yet at every opportunity you're beside my girlfriend. So, are you trying to fuck her?"

"No, of course not! I-"

"Then what are you doing?" Pablo knew he was making a scene and that he would be told off for it later, but at the present he didn't care. All he wanted was to understand the plot of his new teammate and potentially his girlfriend's new man.

"Gavi, can we step outside?" Joao's maturity was showing in this moment. He was not about to start a scene two days before he was meant to step on the grass of one of the best clubs in the world. Gavi angrily followed him out of the locker room, prepared to throw insults or punches: whatever the situation called for.

"Okay, Gavi. I'm going to be honest with you because we're teammates and I think we could end up being friends. And because I feel like there's no point in lying. When I first met your girl in London, I thought she was gorgeous."

"I don't know why you thought this would help you build a friendship with me." Gavi deadpanned, anger rising to his throat. His new teammate had 30 more seconds before he lost it completely.

"No I- what I'm trying to say is yes, I did have a crush on her. You're not delusional."

"I already knew that."

"Let me finish!"

"Talk faster!"

"I had a crush on her but then Kepa told me she was with you and I laid off but then I saw her at the ceremony and she said she wasn't dating anybody so then she said her feet hurt from the shoes and she wanted to go back to her room so I walked her there and I asked her out and she said no and I was confused because she was single and she said she was waiting for someone and I just kind of figured it was you because you're the only thing she talked about that entire night and I am very happy for the both of you but feelings don't just disintegrate and I don't want to be a douche who has feelings for your girlfriend so please just tolerate me until I get over mu crush!"

Joao yelled out his entire confession in one breath to answer Gavi's request for speed. It threw the younger boy for a loop, and he was silent for a long moment while he processed what he wanted to say in response.

"So.... you asked out my girlfriend and got rejected?"

"Yes, but before she was your girlfriend!"

"So when my girlfriend was single, free from the guilt of cheating, you asked her out and she rejected you because she was waiting for someone else?"

"Yes."

"Yes let's go!"

Joao was utterly confused by the reaction of the boy. He was ready for yelling, maybe to run for his life, but he never expected Gavi to be smiling, punching the air and celebrating. He turned back to Joao, pulling him into a tight hug and smacking him on the back with strength that bordered on malicious, and then beamed up at him.

"Oh we're going to be just fine. Welcome to the team."

~

It was the stuff of dreams and fantasy. You couldn't believe the scene before you. On the sidelines at the home game in a full Olympic stadium, the fans shouting at the top of their lungs. Barca had just scored the equalizer against Osasuna, and they were coming off the field, little blobs of neon teal ready to prep for the second half. Felix and Cancelo were stretching, ready to make an appearance. A streak flew towards you, and in the tunnel you were met with a grass-stained Gavi, who hugged your middle and kissed you passionately on the cheek.

"You're doing wonderfully, mi Pablito." You said as you walked towards Ilkay to re-bandage his fingers.

"So are you, mi Doctora."

"I haven't really done anything yet." You said as Gavi moved towards the huddle to hear the second half strategy from Xavi.

"And let's please keep it that way! Don't get blood on your new kit."

And it was almost like you had spoken it into existence. There was an electric energy on the grass in the first half, but when the Joaos came on, it was like something just clicked. There was magic dancing through the air, and it seemed like the ball never left Barca's last third. It was just a matter of getting the timing right. And God, was it breathtaking. The midfield was moving like shadows, unstoppable as they fed the ball to Felix. He worked with Balde on the left, lighting fast reflexes that had you on your feet in an instant. It was an impeccable cross, soaring high above the defense line and meeting perfectly with Gavi, who had somehow levitated a foot in the air, and then was catapulted into the far corner of the net. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and you grasped Nicolas harshly and shook him, nearly throwing him to the ground as you screamed with excitement. Gavi had just scored the goal that put them ahead with an assist from Joao. Twitter was going to go insane.

You jumped on the sidelines, hands digging into the pockets of your jacket. You had finally taken what you see as a rather bold step and gotten yourself a Barca kit. Not just any kit - a home kit with 'Gavi 6' in bright white lettering on the back. You had yet to show it to him, wanting it to be a surprise reward. And there was no more perfect time than today. You daydreamed about his reaction, seeing his name on you. You dared to picture a wide smile, and him pulling you close, whispering in your ear how sexy you looked telling the world you were his.

You exited your daydream in time to witness the horrific scene on the pitch. Osasuna were obviously not happy with the performance of the team, and as usual, Gavi got the brunt of the emotionally charged response. They were shoving him, triple-teaming him, using every opportunity to get him on the ground. As Gavi moved into the penalty area, one of the opposing players decided that he couldn't, under any circumstance, let him score again. His arm went up, and his elbow collided directly with Gavi's right ear. The rest was in slow motion - much like the day Gavi took a knee to the groin. You watched the blunt force cause his skull to recoil, and he fell rather limply to the grass. His teammates gathered around, but you weren't going to wait to be called cover. You grabbed you bag and began pulling on your gloves, but a yell caught your attention. It was Joao's voice that got through to you, and over the roar of fans and coaches and disgruntled teammates, you made out the word 'blood' on his lips, and watched as he pointed to his ear.

You sprinted. Nicolas tried to follow, but even with his long legs he couldn't keep up with your speed. Gavi was on the ground. One arm across his eyes, and you could hear him whimper in pain. You looked around his head and saw them: the bright red drops on the grass, all stemming from the side of Pablo's head.

"Pablo, where are you-"

"Ear. From my ear."

You grasped Gavi's hand, wanting to move his arm so you could see, and he moved his hand into yours so that he could clutch it, squeezing hard because of the pain. You soon saw why. You suppressed your gasp as to not spark fear within him. His ear had been split clearly, the blunt force trauma rupturing the skin and causing heavier bleeding than you had seen in a long time.

"You need to come off, Pablo. You're bleeding badly."

"I want to stay on. It doesn't hurt terribly."

"Pablo-"

"Please. Help me stay on."

You nodded, deciding it was better to act fast than to argue. You sat him up, getting the saline and irrigating his ear from the blood. The cut was worse than you had previously anticipated, as you saw cartilage peak through before for the crimson returned once again. You continued to quickly clean and clear blood, a small mound of blood and iodine soaked gauze forming beside you. There wasn't enough time to give him stitches- even the continuous ones would be too slow. Gauze and medical tape would certainly not be enough to keep his ear covered and clean for these last 15 minutes. And plus, his cartilage was oxidizing quickly. You needed to close the cut, and given the circumstances, there was really only one way to do it.

"Can you handle a little bit more pain?" You met Gavi's wide eyes, and he gave your hand a rough squeeze and nodded gently, trying not to move his head too much. You went to pull your hand from his and were met with resistance. He wasn't able to let go.

"Nicolas, gloves on and hand me the stapler."

He handed you the machine and you instructed him on how to place his hands, closing up the flesh and overlapping the skin. You lined up the gun and repressed the urge to close your eyes. You placed four quick staples in his ear, closing the cartilage in a quick way, heart aching at the sounds he made when each one pierced his skin. You cleaned out the blood one last time, and helped him rise to his feet, met with the cheers of 80,000 culers.

"Come on - you need to be seen by Dr. G on the side before you can continue playing. Make sure they didn't crack your skull."

As you ushered him to the sidelines, the penalty review completed and granted to the blaugrana. Dr. G looked over your work, nodding to Gavi that he could go back onto the field.

"Good work, doctora. He will need reinforced stitches after the match concludes, but you're more than capable."

"Of course, sir."

The boys were all aggregated around the penalty box, clapping Gavi on the shoulder as he returned. Lewy raised an eyebrow in his direction, and Gavi gave him a thumbs up in response.

"Don't worry about me - worry about scoring." He called, falling into place beside Pedri and Joao. His Canarian friend placed an arm around his shoulder, bringing him in silently. It was a nasty hit, one of the worst in a long time, and seeing the blood stop dripping onto Gavi's jersey allowed him to finally breathe more easily.

"You okay?" Joao finally asked, eyes still trained on the preparation for the penalty attempt.

"I can still hear, so I guess I'm fine." Gavi replied, arms crossed over his chest but tone remaining light.

"Scars are sexy anyways." Pedri added, sending Gavi a suggestive look.

"Yeah, Van Gogh didn't get any bitches until that ear was gone." Joao's comment caught the Spanish boys off guard, causing them both to double over in laughter. Gavi gave him a playful elbow to the side as Pedri praised is comedy, and from the sidelines your relaxed slightly, watching your Pablo bond with his teammates. The penalty was brilliant and efficient, and after 15 minutes of you clenching Nicolas' arm and watching for a sprouting of red to emerge on Pablo's head, the final whistle sounded, and the boys approached the crowd to celebrate a hard-earned victory.

The players all shuffled into the tunnel, and Gavi quickly found you, walking with you off the field and placing a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm sorry, mi Doctora - I got blood on my kit." He said softly as the two of you walked through the tunnels, and you couldn't stop yourself from throwing both arms around him and kissing his soft pout. As you moved your arms away, you noticed the red droplets littering the light material of your staff uniform.

"It's okay, mi Pablito, looks like I did too. I can do you stitches at home, but blood is a biohazard, so we need to put this with the medical laundry before we leave."

The two of you walked to the locker room, walking into a closed area just behind that was used for medical exams.

"Can you turn around?" You asked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

"What haven't I seen before?" He asked cheekily, and you rolled your eyes as you pushed his shoulders to make him face the wall. He peeled off his own stained shirt, toeing off his boots and rolling his socks down to relieve the pressure on his calves.

"Can I turn around now?" He asked almost mockingly, and after your agreement, he turned to face you, but meeting your back instead. It took him a moment to understand what was going on, opening his mouth to ask what was going on, but his eyes focused and the words died on his tongue. In bright white text, the saw his name curved around your shoulder blades, his number sitting perfectly in the dip of your back.

"You... my shirt?" He couldn't bring himself to articulate his question more clearly. You knew what he meant, looking over your shoulder, and Pablo was absolutely certain his brain was going to short circuit. It was like there was a halo of light surrounding you, your soft eyes behind beautiful fluttering lashes. Pink lips peaked from above your shoulder, your hair gathered to keep your back exposed. You were wearing his name. You were at work wearing his name, about to walk outside and proudly show off that you were Gavi's. And despite him saying it repeatedly, that was the moment it really clicked in his head. He had you. We were his.

And while he was lifting you up to kiss him, hands harsh on the soft fabric inscribed with his name, people were a step behind, speculating about you being Gavi's as well.

@88rizzing: ok i finally beat @/gaviraconcubine to it - look at these videos from gavis injury. is he holding the girl doctors hand??

412 likes 8 retweets 17 replies

@bigbootybarca: ???? does it just hurt that bad or are they f*******

@alanaTV: yall he's literally getting his ear STAPLED let the man hold onto something

@marcusrashfussy: isnt this the one who ppl posted after the bdor? like the one who hugged gavi?

@gaviraconcubine: ok u got me w that one @/88rizzing but have you seen them walking into the tunnel with gavi on her waist???

881 likes 37 retweets 262 replies

@88rizzing: are you fucking kidding me

@v1scab4rca: AYO??? GUYS ITS PABLO GAVIRIZZ

@4rmy-gyal-4: the bath is ready someone hand me the toaster

@arabianmadridi: at least hes not with the zionest god bless

@loonastansbrazil: @/88rizzing @/gaviraconcubine i got both of yall. i got this pic of them walking out of the stadium.

9,907 likes 424 retweets 1455 replies

The photo was one of the worst quality things on twitter. It was blurry and crooked and extremely zoomed in, but there was no doubt about the subject. Gavi was in his training shirt and his grass stained shorts, socks rolled down to his ankles and Nike slides taking the place of his usual dripped out sneakers. His head was turned to the left, his entire side profile visible. The smile that spread across his face was blinding even in the photo's limited pictures, and his fingers were threaded between those of another person. Your face was turned towards Gavi as well, distorted by your hair on your shoulder. But your back, turned squarely to the camera, was clear as Day with the large '6' contrasting the stripes. The internet was going wild at the thought that he young football star had bagged his doctor.

"Not to be the bearer of bad news, mi doctora," Pablo started, laying on your couch with his head on the pillow, injured ear in the air, "but Twitter found out that you're obsessed with me."

Your laugh was faint but audible, and your footsteps coming swiftly down Gavi's staircase. The sutures and other medications were in your hand, and you moved to sit on the couch, laying the pillow and Pablo's head across your lap.

"Well, took them long enough. I've been publicly thirsting over you forever now." You picked up your gloves and tweezers, about to begin the painstaking process of pulling out the staples so that you could drain his ear.

"Can I grab something before you start?" He said, and you paused midair. "Alright, but quickly. I don't want the numbing cream to wear off. I'm tired of you crying on the pillows."

"That was only one time!" He yelled over his shoulder, running up to his bedroom despite your please for him to not run in socks on the tile. He came back downstairs with a large book and a paper bag from the supermarket. He laid back down on your lap, snuggling his cheek into the pillow.

"Okay, I'm ready. Rip my ear open."

You pulled the first staple and watched for his reactions. of which there were very few. You took this as a sign to continue. As you pulled out the second staple, struggling not to tear his skin because it was wedged under the third, you asked.

"When did you start reading, Pablo?"

"Don't worry, it's a picture book." He giggled slightly and cracked open the book. On the first page, sprawled in boyish handwriting and black sharpie, was the title: My Precious Moments.

"What is this?"

"Keep working, mi doctora. I'll read it to you."

He hissed slightly as you pulled out the final staple, and you began the process of cleaning. He turned the first page, and you let out a laugh that surprised even yourself. The first page was your official school photo that Gavi had printed out, your wide smile and white coat looking crisp. He had surrounded your picture with red hearts, a thousand of them all over the page.

"This is Doctora y/n y/l/n," Pablo began reading, and you gently moved the iodine across his skin. "But we never call her that. We call her Mi doctora. She's the most wonderful beautiful sexy fantastic amazing girl, and she's dating you, her Pablito."

He turned the page as you threaded the nylon thread into the needle to begin closing him up. The next page was a collage of newspaper and magazine clippings of Gavi's best moments.

"This is you, footballer Pablo Gavi. Handsome, talented, and always a winner."

"You forgot humble, mi amor." You said with a smirk.

"Oh, you're right. I'll have to add that in later."

He flipped the page once again, and it was a copy of the photo you gave him for Christmas. Around it were several post it notes taped to the pages. They all said various things in Pablo's signature handwriting: 'doctora number - DO NOT LOSE!', 'see girl dr tmr morning for leg stuff', 'doctora coffee order', etc.

"This is you and doctora before she liked you. We definitely already liked her, but we're kind of stubborn."

"What are those? You asked while never taking your eyes off of them.

"They're all the notes I have about you. The ones that I kept around so I wouldn't forget."

You tried to keep the tears out of your eyes, needing one more stitch to be done with Pablo's ear. He turned the page again, and it was a collection of photos of the two of you from the Supercopa, with you and Gavi both holding onto the trophy.

"This is after doctora broke up with her crusty boyfriend. look at how happy everyone is!"

You laughed once again, having to put down the needle and just let out the joy, allowing it to take over your entire body. You picked up the stapler again, placing four quick staples in his ear as he flipped the page again. You pressed onto the newly patched ear, applying gentle pressure. The pages were filled with printed out photos: the sunset over the sea, a bush of bright pink flowers, a fluffy dog smiling widely. An array of beautiful, ordinary things.

"These are all the things we took pictures of while thinking about the doctora. The sun, the moon, bracelets on street stalls, dogs at the park, butterflies on the football field. All the beautiful things that you wanted to capture and give to her. You just didn't know why, yet."

You tapped his shoulder, indicating that he could sit up. He rested his back across the couch, lifting one arm to invite you to lay against his chest. Nuzzling into his side, your head rested against the dip connecting his shoulder to his collar. The next page was from the end of the league, all the stupid selfies the two of you had taken with the La Liga trophy.

"This is when doctora decided to stay in the club. We're so lucky that she decide to do that, because it gave us the time to grow some balls and confess to her. And also, your first La Liga win (in general and with this hottie)."

You kissed Pablo's cheek, whispering how amazing he was against his skin.

"Hold on, I'm about to get more amazing." He said, turning the page. It was only two pictures. The first was a picture of him on stage holding his Kopa trophy, smiling brightly at the crowd. The second was the one Pedri had took while you two were preoccupied with your first "I never want to let you go" kiss. The two of you were wrapped around each other, lips locked, and Pablo's trophy sitting in the bottom of the frame.

"This is the day that we finally became a man. You got a cute award, and you got the love of your life. And we better not be sitting over this and reading it because we fumbled her. Break your face before you fumble Doctora. She'll fix it for you."

The tears were flowing freely now, and you hugged closer against Gavi. You had never been treated so specially by anyone in your life. And here was Pablito, so busy and occupied with being a world class footballer taking the time to make a scrap book of you. He turned the page one more time, and it was a collection of selfies that you had taken with him at home, all cut into hearts and stick on haphazardly. But to you it was the most stunning sight in the world.

"And here you two are. In your favorite place in the world (at home on the couch) with your favorite person. In love in a way that would have made you nauseous last year. So here is a place for you to keep all the precious moments of the two of you, so that you can never forget how far you have come."

He placed the book in your hands, and moved to get up, grabbing the bag he brought down earlier. Your tear-stained cheeks were rosy, and you couldn't even begin to articulate how you felt. He sat back down, pulling you into his lap and cuddling you in his arms. His head was resting against your shoulder, peppering soft kisses to your neck.

"I know it's a little obvious now, mi doctora, but I love pictures. I don't think I ever realized how much pictures meant to me until you gave me one. But when I look at you, I wish I could photograph you every second and then play back every moment. I wish that we could be frozen in these moments, happy and feeling like there was nothing in the world besides each other. But then I realized that no matter the moment, that's how I feel. Every time I'm with you, I feel invincible. I feel like I'm at the happiest I will ever be. And it's all because of you. You are what I want beside me, forever."

He placed the supermarket bag in your hands. You reached in, pulling out a pale blue jewelry box. Your eyes widened, and you swiveled around to face your love.

"Pablo... is this... I look terrible."

"Don't worry, mi amor. It's not a ring. Not yet anyways. We can't get married while you're still in school, cause I don't want our wedding to overshadow your graduation."

"You've thought about a wedding? Our wedding?"

"Of course." He placed a long kiss to the side of your neck. "I've thought about our wedding since before we got together. We're going to get married in the summer, of course. So that we can be tan and gorgeous - not that you're not always gorgeous, but you'll just glow against the white. Like an angel. Or a princess. Or both. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but in my little fantasies before I go to sleep, you're in this long white dress, like something from Disney. And then it would be between seasons, so I can take you on a proper looong honeymoon. Four weeks in a private beach where you pack only bikinis and lingerie. Now come on open it - I got this weeks ago when we were in Madrid and you had to stay for an exam."

You opened the box slowly, not knowing what to hope for exactly. In front of you was a traditional Spanish necklace, almost resembling a rosary. It was silver and pearls chained together, ending in large silver heart with filigree etched into the metal. The lines formed into a cursive 'P' in the center.

"P for Pablo?" You asked with sniffles and tears.

"Yes of course. But that's not even the best part." He whispered, hands coming up to join yours. He grasped the heart and pulled until you heard a faint click, and it was only then that you noticed the hinges. It was a locket. You gently separated the halves, and staring back at you was a black and white photo. It was of you and Pablo, one night when you were laying on his couch like the two of you somehow always did. You were trying to fix yourself in your camera, and Pablo pulled your chin down to kiss you, and you hand snapped a picture. For a few weeks, it was his lock screen, and you had to admit you were disappointed when he changed it to a different photo. But now, seeing it here, feeling the gentle touch of his fingers against your skin as he placed the necklace on you, you had never felt more loved or in love.

"I love you, Pablo. I love being with you. I love being yours."

Those were the only words that felt appropriate at the moment.

"I love you more, mi doctora. I feel like I'm going to love you forever. And that thought used to terrify me. But now, it's something for me to look forward to. Waking up every day to love you."

He reached back into the back, pulling out a small suede pouch in the same light blue. He placed it in your hands as well.

"You're spoiling me now Pablo."

"That's my job."

Pulling the strings, you opened the pouch, reaching in and feeling metal. You pulled on the chain and it slowly rose, ending in a silver key. It was also engraved with the words 'el hogar' on the side.

"I know that we talked about you moving in, but I never want to make you uncomfortable. So for right now, this is just a necklace with a key as the charm." He hooked it around your neck, and it sat beautifully above your pearls. "And when you want, you can use it as a key to your boyfriend's house, for whatever you want really." He turned you to face him, pressing his lips right between your collar bones. "And when you feel like you're ready, it can be a key to our house."

"Our house. I like the sound of that."

His smile was infectious. "So do I."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

And there it is!! Just Pretend, signed sealed and delivered for your pleasure! I am really happy with how this came out tbh, and hope you all enjoy. I have exams and school for the next two weeks so I might be MIA from writing, but I should be back soon. Please if you feel so inclined leave a comment, a reblog, or a message in my ask box about your thoughts/ feelings, and see y'all soon!

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738 @sideeblogsstuff @halaxxx @berriesaren

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

[rollforgaslight]

I know kipper cunt is a fictional character but I want y'all to keep something in mind:

fantasy high specifically is a coming of age story that has acknowledged the teen villains are children at the end of the day and should not be written off as evil and nothing else.

romanticizing trauma is a very complicated issue and indicative of deeper psychological problems. Hell, the bad kids only found out she felt this way because they read a file she thought would remain UNSEEN by her peers. As far as we know she has only told Jawbone about this. This is a young girl that is reported to have anger issues before she even went to the mountains of chaos so we can clearly see she isn't well or in a good headspace.

maybe I feel so strongly about this because I in my past romanticized other peoples trauma and I know what its like to be in that mindset. and looking back I can see why I felt that way. I had a complicated life like everyone else but because my life was good on paper I thought I needed something worse to happen to me so my psychological and emotional issues would be valid. I thought I wasn't valid in having issues because in theory I shouldn't have a reason to. I know thats a shitty thing to do which is why I never told anyone about it. its a very frustrating experience to have because you know its wrong but for the life of you, you cannot figure out why you desperately want something bad to happen to you.

I also wanna say this is an experience that is different from Dream Tannaka. Dream is a caricature of this issue but what Dreams character does not cover is how it truly feels to have this issue. you feel like a fucking asshole because you know at the end of the day you dont truly want someone else's trauma but you can't help but crave it for some reason. and you feel like you can't tell anyone about it because you know it will make you look like an asshole. Its very similar to the experience of having taboo intrusive thoughts that horrify you.

I will reiterate that I know kipperlilly is a fictional character but this show is no stranger to discussing complicated topics--especially through villains. ESPECIALLY child villains.

#kipperlilly copperkettle #d20 #dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #fhjy

[bloodsbane]

i will not reblog the post to comment no matter how tempted i am because i refuse to listen to the devil this early in the morning. but i just saw a post basically saying 'if you like to think about characters from a thing you like having sex, you're weird AND did you even actually like the media they're from or are you just some horny loser who needs everyone to fuck all the time?'

and i get it, tumblr rando, you are frustrated or whatever. you made a post on your personal blog on the making posts on your blog webbed site. you are just throwing a huge blanket umbrella statement over a large crowd and catching people who arent who you're talking about underneath it

but i REALLY wish this idea that liking sex or enjoying thinking about characters having sex (or even just shipping in general) = you DONT CARE about the source material beyond a surface level would die right now immediately. do you know how arrogant and pedantic and dismissive this makes you sound? im so so sorry but some people just DO like sex! and like, idk if you knew this, but sex is how some people connect with others or like exploring characters in new and compelling ways that interest them

the post was also specifically complaining about people doing this within, like, a couple days of getting into said thing. dude. what? okay so if i politely cross my hands on my lap and sit still and only think holy thoughts about Media and Character Motivations for one full week and deliver 3 analysis essays to your desk by friday, THEN will it be okay for me to write some bdsm? have i filled my quota of being a Normal and Intellectual fan? did i prove to you that i really, truly care about the source material instead of just being a filthy queer who only cares about icky sex and getting my rocks off?

it's one thing to not be interested in smutty fic/art yourself, and you're entitled to your opinions, and it's fair to be annoyed when the spaces you want to occupy are loud with material that isnt for you. but this rhetoric that caring about sex and wanting to write about it JUST FOR FUN with characters you like from a story you enjoy means that you're like. too stupid or shallow to have actually engaged with the source material beyond it being shipping fodder. that's high-key some of the most rancid shit ive had to hear and y'all seriously need to start scrubbing that out of your brain or it's just gonna rot

#banebabbles #can you tell i see commentary like this way too often #im tired of it

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros twodros

part one: taedros taedros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 1.9k reader: femme afab (maybe just afab idk again lemme know if you think it needs/doesn't need a femme label and i didn't use any pronouns so?? but i'm playing it safe just in case) SPECIFIC WARNINGS BELOW CUT ~ MINORS DNI MATURE SMUT!! summary: after weeks of loserbestfriend!taerae eating you out and seemingly wanting nothing in return, you finally find out the reason and offer to repay his original favor... okay. i did it. don't say i never did anything for you. don't spend it all in one place. 💀 also yes i ai enhanced that pic but i had no choice. he's so lame i love him. y'all like the title? twodros. okay bye.

EXPLICIT SMUT BELOW CUT-- MINORS DNI!!

specific warnings: oral f & m receiving, p in v (riding), subbyyyyy taerae want to make that clear but also switch taerae, switch reader, cum play, virgin taerae oops, pet names, taerae's red sweatpants, calling taerae's pussy eating obsession an "addiction", literally no mention of condoms or bc idk you know that's not always a good idea in real life but also i'm not a safe sex authority do whatever you want babe just think about it first :)

~*...*~

pressing light, teasing kisses to your clit, taerae chuckles at the frustrated sounds you’re making for him. his being so annoyingly cute even when eating you out isn’t helping. god, you’re dying to get your hands on him.

you don’t know when you started feeling this way about your best friend, but in the last three weeks something had undoubtedly changed. what started out as a pitch for taerae to tame your curiosity had since seemingly turned into a game of how many times during your weekly “movie night” he could make you cum before you passed out.

spoiler alert: it was a lot. taerae ate you out so much, in fact, that you were actually starting to worry…

was taerae addicted to eating pussy? had you been unknowingly enabling his pussy addiction? were you going to have to stage an anti-pussy intervention?

help check him into pussy rehab?

“fuuuck,” you whine, fingers threading through taerae’s hair as the sudden feeling of his tongue fucking into you breaks your train of thought. you’d already cum twice but taerae has caused you to become so greedy.

even if taerae had some sort of problem… who were you to complain when you were reaping all the benefits of it?

a moan from taerae brings your attention back to him and you notice he’s already begun humping the bed just a few minutes in. the past two weeks, he’d become less and less able to hold himself back; rutting into his mattress while you came on his tongue for hours. 

you’d seen taerae like this last week and gently pulled him up to you by his shirt collar; salivating when you saw how hard he was in his joggers. your fingers hooked over his waistband as you looked up at him tentatively. you expected him to eagerly agree, but instead he’d just shook his head and returned his lips to your swollen cunt.

watching as taerae moans into you at both your sweetness and the friction on his clothed cock, you realize just how desperate you are to make him feel as good as he had been making you feel.

“taerae,” you say but he doesn’t hear you, eyes closed as his tongue laps at your folds. you tug his hair a bit harder to get his attention, repeating, “taerae?”

his eyes flutter open as he looks up at you--  pulling back from your pussy reluctantly. he runs the back of his hand across his chin, wiping some of your juices from his mouth. “what’s wrong, baby? everything okay?”

you shake your head. “tae...”

“what, baby?” he asks, pushing up on his hands and sitting up to dote on you. he places a hand on each of your knees, pressing kisses to the inside of each leg. “tapping out already? i know you can give me more.”

“tae, i--,” you whine at his words; sitting up a bit on your elbows. eyes falling to the crotch of taerae’s ugly red sweatpants he'd had since high school, the small wet spot you find sends a fresh wave of need to your core. “want you. want you so bad.”

“y--... you do?” he asks in utter disbelief. he blinks at you nervously; swallowing hard as he averts your gaze. “are you sure? ‘cause i can just keep doing this if you want--”

“do you really not want to fuck me or something?” you interrupt, pouting at your best friend. “you’re so hard you’re soaking through your pants, so i just thought that maybe you’d want to. but you absolutely don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“fuck, i want to,” he says softly, squeezing your knees as his eyes find yours again. “but...”

“tae,” you coo worriedly, finally closing your legs and climbing over to him. “is something wrong? is all of this too weird? maybe we shouldn’t have done any of this...”

“no, no, no! i like this,” taerae pleads, shaking his head quickly. he presses his lips together for a moment, clearly unsure of whether or not to say his next thought. “i--... i don’t wanna fuck this up.”

your brow furrows at the sentiment. “you’re not gonna fuck it up, tae.”

“i am,” he says, scrunching his nose up. “because... um. well. remember when i said i ‘wasn’t a virgin’?”

“OH MY GOD, I KNEW IT!” you shout; much to the horror of taerae. you take his face in your hands, squishing it up cutely. “why didn’t you tell me, you absolutely adorable little virgin loser?”

“i thought you’d make fun of me,” he huffs through the pout your hands are squishing his lips into. you unsquish his face; pushing his floppy hair back out of his eyes sweetly.

“you’re really fucking good at eating pussy, tae,” you compliment; his cheeks tinging red. “you had me fooled... is that the only thing you’ve done?”

he nods shyly. 

“well look at us,” you say with a laugh, poking at his dimples. “no guys would eat me out and all girls will let you do is eat them out.”

he sighs; blinking quickly through his embarrassment. 

“well i guess we can be done for tonight, if you want,” you say, starting to climb off of his bed when a hand around your wrist pulls you back. you look at him, the expression on his face telling you he’s as “curious” as you were a couple weeks ago.

“or i can help you out,” you suggest and from the way his cock twitches in his pants, you know he was hoping you’d say that. “if you wanna... see what it’s like?”

“mm. wanna see,” he evhoes softly and you’re surprised by how much cuteness is radiating off of him right now. you’re on top of him in seconds, finally kissing him for what you realize is the first time. his lips are so soft and responsive and when he whimpers into your mouth, you tug his shirt up and over his head and push him gently to the mattress; his head resting on his pillow as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

situating yourself between taerae’s legs, you pull at the waistband of his stupid red sweatpants and he helps you remove them. his bulge is straining against his black boxer briefs and you begin to palm him through them to help relieve some tension. as soon as he feels the slight pressure, he bucks his hips into your hand-- whining for more.

“do you want something, baby?” you ask, squeezing a bit firmer. he nods frantically, placing his hand over yours to keep you there. you squeeze a bit too hard now and taerae seethes at the pain. “don’t get demanding. you’ll take what i give you.”

he nods again, eyes wide with understanding. “m’sorry. m’so--... oh my god.”

pulling taerae’s boxers off his hips and down his legs, you sink down onto your stomach-- both of your hands wrapping around the base of his cock as you lick a long stripe from the shaft to the tip.

his dick is pretty— even prettier in your hands and you’re dying to put it in your mouth. sticking out your tongue teasingly, you tap him against it and the whimpers that fall out of taerae make you feel a bit dizzy with power.

after playing around a bit more with the head of his cock, you take his length in your mouth— pressing down on taerae’s hips to keep him from bucking down your throat by accident. 

tapping the back of your throat lightly, the sound that he makes is both deliciously obscene and concerning. you really don’t want him to cum before you get to feel that pretty cock stretching your walls.

you pull off of him and the bratty whine from the loss of contact that escapes him only inflates your ego. “if you cum down my throat, you’re not gonna get to fuck me. is that what you want?”

taerae whines again, his hand finding the back of your head and gently trying to push you back down on him. you know he’s not actually being forceful— he just wants you to react.

as you smack his right thigh hard, the mesmerized look in taerae’s eyes is thrilling.

“let me take care of you, okay?” you soothe, sucking his cock sloppily in between words. “you’ve been so sweet to me, baby. wanna make you feel good.”

taerae nods with a whimper as you straddle him; grabbing the base of his cock to position under your entrance. as he feels you sink down onto him, all he can cry is, “oh my g— oh fuuuck."

“fuuuck,” you echo in aas your walls slowly mold to taerae’s size. 

“please, please,” he moans; clearly already out of his mind. “n-need you s-so bad.”

“you’ve got me, baby,” you soothe, a hand gripping at either side of his chest. “how does it feel?”

“pussy so warm,” he cries, a hand finding each of your hips and holding them tightly. “so wet, too. oh my god it’s amazing.”

you wish all the guys you’d been with had talked to you like this. the way taerae basically worshipped your pussy was intoxicating.

“baby,” you whine— starting to fuck yourself on his cock. you watch as taerae’s eyes roll back in absolute bliss.

it’s only a few minutes before his nails are digging into the skin at your hips as he warns, “fuck, i can’t. m’sorry i can’t— gonna cum, g'nna—.”

“you can cum, baby,” you allow, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. he keeps you there for a moment, kissing you and moaning into your mouth until you pull back. “want you to cum.”

“fuck, i--. fuck, m’cumming,” he cries; hips bucking into you as he reaches his high. as he slowly comes down, he’s unintelligibly babbling, “pussy s’good, honey— wanna live in it oh my god s’perfect i could die…”

“ssssh, baby, it’s okay,” you coo, pressing kisses up his chest. “you did so good.”

“mmm,” he mewls, covering his face with his hands as his cheeks flush pink. 

“you’re gonna wanna see this, tae,” you reach up and remove his hands from over his eyes, letting one fall to his chest and pulling the other towards you. lifting up off of him, taerae hisses at the loss of warmth as his cock falls to his stomach-- still leaking slightly from the tip. 

“holy fuck,” he moans-- the sound turning to a light, disbelieving laugh as he watches both of your juices start to drip out of you and onto his balls. you bring his fingers to your core; coating his middle and ring fingers in the mixture and bringing them to your lips. you pop them in your mouth, sucking them clean as you see taerae’s cock twitch at the sight. “you’re so fucking hot-- i can’t take it.”

taerae sticks his fingers back in your entrance; this time bringing the liquid to his own lips. he pops his fingers in his mouth, exhaling with satisfaction at the taste. taking you by the waist suddenly and flipping you onto your back, he folds your legs to your chest-- granting himself full access to your pussy. he looks at you; the hungriest you’ve seen him yet as his focus returns to your messy, throbbing cunt. you whimper as taerae husks, “gonna clean you up.”

so what if he's addicted?, you think as he dives in again.

so are you.

#zb1 #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 smut #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone smut #zb1 taerae #zb1 kim taerae #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone taerae #zerobaseone kim taerae #kim taerae fics #kim taerae x reader #kim taerae smut #kim taerae #kim taerae imagines #taerae fics #taerae smut #taerae #taerae x reader #taerae imagines

[theerurishipper]

Zuko Did Not Abuse Azula in the Comics.

I'm gonna do it. After a lifetime of never posting any of my own posts in the ATLA fandom, I am gonna talk about this. "This" is the arguments sprung forth that Zuko abused Azula in the comics, more specifically The Search. Now, I don't think the comics are well-written, but what they don't do in any capacity is paint a picture of Zuko abusing Azula. And despite this, I've seen several claims about how Zuko did in fact, treat Azula cruelly and horribly and let the Gaang abuse her happily. And I might not like the comics, but that's just flat out wrong. So, I'm writing a rebuttal to all the arguments I've seen on the topic, at least, as many as I can remember. What I'll do is quote an argument and use evidence from the comic to rebut it, and hopefully people will stop claiming that the abuse victim treated his abusive sister the way she treated him all their lives. So yeah.

To be clear, I'm not making this post to hate on Azula's character or something. I'm not making this to start a fight, or to make people angry. I mostly made this to express my own frustrations about some things I've seen.

And it's probably a bit too late for this, but if you think Zuko did abuse Azula or whatever, you're entitled to your opinion, but please don't interact with this post. I've tagged the anti tags and placed my text under a read more, so y'all don't have to read it.

This gets long, so under the cut it is. Let's go.

Argument: "Azula is protesting being treated cruelly and Ty Lee chi-blocks her for no reason at all! And Zuko doesn't protest this cruel treatment of his sister! He's abusing her!"

Ty Lee chi-blocked Azula after Azula attacked Zuko and displayed violent behavior. On top of being Zuko's bodyguard and therefor responsible for protecting him, Ty Lee also has a great fear of Azula because of how Azula treated her in their past. Zuko tries to be kind to his sister by bringing her tea and she attacks him. Furthermore, Zuko also protests her being chi-blocked even after she does so. He tries to treat her with dignity and be kind to her but Azula herself is the one to sneer at his efforts.

Argument: "Zuko is awful for leaving Azula alone with her abuser! He doesn't care about her well-being!"

I agree that Azula shouldn't be allowed to talk to Ozai. Ozai abused Azula as well, and contact with him would only cause her more problems. However, Zuko doesn't know this. He himself is an abuse victim, and all he's seen his whole life is that Ozai favored Azula over him. And Azula used this to place herself in a position of power over him. She's always tried to drive it into his head that their father liked her better than him and that he was worthless in Ozai's eyes. Naturally, Zuko assumes (incorrectly) that Azula has some kind of special relationship with Ozai that he doesn't. He knows Azula has not had a perfect and healthy life, but he is not privy to the details. He doesn't know what's going on in her head. This is because he is not a mind reader, and she refuses to let herself be vulnerable in front of him because she believes she is better than him and that vulnerability is a weakness.

Even in the comic, she expresses no hatred or fear of her father, and doesn't indicate to Zuko that she does not want to be alone with him. She shouldn't have contact with him, of course, but she refuses to admit that her father is responsible for how she is now and that he has hurt her. She blames her mother, she blames Zuko and his friends, she blames Mai and Ty Lee, but she refuses to blame herself and most importantly, she refuses to blame Ozai. She's still behaving the way he wants, attacking Zuko and, if I may bring up Smoke and Shadow even if it pains me, she's trying to get Zuko to be like Ozai. She herself expresses the desire to speak with Ozai in the panels above, so if she herself hasn't acknowledged the way Ozai has hurt her or how he has abused her, and if she is still under the belief that he loves her, how is Zuko supposed to know any better? He's not doing anything he thinks might hurt her because she hasn't expressed that it hurts her, because she herself doesn't believe it does. And yes, it does hurt her, but it's not Zuko's fault for not being able to magically comprehend that, especially since she has spent her life driving the opposite message into his head, that Ozai favors her and not him.

Argument: "Zuko threw his little sister in an institution! He didn't care for her or for what became of her! He just left her in there to rot!"

What should he have done then? How should he have dealt with her? Azula may be traumatized and in need of help, but Zuko isn't the one to give that to her. He doesn't owe that to her after everything she's done to him, and he doesn't have the capability to help her himself. Azula has always expressed hatred for her brother and has been very clear about the fact that she considers him weak. He tries to help her and she rebuffs him continuously, choosing to attack him instead. She still wants him dead, and she has still not expressed any opposition to the things she learnt from Ozai. She still considers her brother a failure, she still hasn't mentioned that she thinks genocide is wrong, and she certainly doesn't think she's to blame for anything.

Given free reign, she attacks Zuko and manipulates him, and she is obviously too dangerous to let loose. The most Zuko can do is get her the help she needs, which is what he tried to do. I find the whole way these comics deal with mental health distasteful, especially with regard to Azula, but that's a flaw in the writing, not the characters. Zuko could have thrown her in prison like Ozai, since she was complicit in his war efforts. But he recognized that she needed help and tried to provide it for her. I wonder what anyone who criticizes Zuko for this would suggest he should do instead. Keep in mind that Azula is an imperialist and staunch supporter of Ozai's quest to take over the world. She also attempted to kill Zuko multiple times and has expressed no remorse for it.

And also, there is the argument that the institution is abusive and that Azula was mistreated in there. And where is the evidence of that? No, seriously, I went and looked through the comics, and I didn't see any evidence that Azula was abused in there. It seems to be a headcanon. Of course Azula resents being put in an institution, especially when she believes nothing is wrong with her and since she so adamantly refuses to let anyone help her. But nowhere does she mention that she hates it because the people there hurt her or something. And where else could she get help for her problems? Should Zuko take on a second job as her therapist? Should Iroh leave his life in Ba Sing Se behind to come and help a niece who has only ever hated him and wanted him dead? People say that the straitjacket is proof of her being abused, and I don't really like it either, but considering that she is eagerly awaiting the opportunity to attack Zuko, the straitjacket is probably a precaution to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone. Not that it stops her.

And when Zuko does try to help her some other way by offering for her to stay in the palace instead to make her more comfortable, she attacks him. So.

Also, these comics totally forgot how lightning-bending works.

Argument: "Zuko violently coerced his mentally ill sister to come with him on a mission to find his mother!"

She's also Azula's mother, actually. And he didn't coerce her. She blackmailed him and forced herself onto the trip. It was entirely her own decision to come with them and it was not Zuko who forced her to do anything.

Argument: "The Gaang attack Azula for no reason! They're threatening her violently!"

I mean, considering everything she's done to them and still hasn't given up on wanting to do, it's expected that they would be wary of her and perceive her as a threat. Remember when the Gaang pulled their weapons on Zuko, and only didn't attack him because he tried talking to them? Azula here is still antagonizing them and is still calling them derogatory terms like "peasant," so she still hasn't given up her beliefs of superiority. Which obviously doesn't give them a very positive impression.

Argument: "Iroh always expresses ill will and hatred towards Azula and thinks she's a lost cause! He encourages Zuko to hurt her because he thinks she's irredeemable!"

Iroh expresses the wish for Azula to find peace the way he believes Zuko will.

Argument: "The Gaang treated Azula cruelly and threatened her for no reason! They started abusing her the moment they got the chance to, when Azula was defenseless and unable to protect herself at all!"

Here we have exhibit A, where Aang cruelly laughs in Azula's face and greets her mockingly, while Azula is respectful of the people she has hurt many times over.

Oh wait. He greets her cheerfully and kindly, and she starts ordering the Gaang around like they're her servants.

Argument: "Sokka threatened Azula violently for no reason and Azula was just defending herself!"

Sokka didn't even do anything to her. He waves his boomerang near her and tells her not to try anything. And yet the way some people will use this scene is to suggest that he was outright attacking her when she was vulnerable or something. And yet she is well off enough to shoot lightning at him unprovoked. Considering all of Azula's actions, they are well within their rights to keep her in control. Would you say Katara was unjustified for threatening Zuko with death right after he joined them? Was she abusing Zuko then? The answer is no.

Azula has been well known for committing many acts of violence against them, including but not limited to pursuing them relentlessly, attacking them, taking over Ba Sing Se, trying to kill them, actually killing Aang, almost killing Zuko, and she is complicit in the crimes of the Fire Nation. She has done nothing to prove that she's changed her ways and that she is now not interested in killing them, and we later learn that she still does want to attack them. Sokka is well within his rights to threaten her since she has inflicted so much harm on his friends and might still do so. But Azula has no such right. The only reason she has so much free reign is because of Zuko's compassion. The Gaang are right to be suspicious and wary of her after everything she's done and she has no right to be disdainful about that. Do you think if Zuko showed up to join the Gaang and shot sparks at them when he got irritated, that they would not be in the right for perceiving it as a threat? Would you say that Zuko should be allowed to act violently with the Gaang in that situation?

She is here because she manipulated her brother and the fact that she is being allowed on this trip unbound is much more than what she realistically deserves. And she proves Sokka right by attacking him. Sokka merely waved a boomerang in her face (he wasn't even that close to her, actually, and he certainly wasn't in her face) and warned her not to try anything, and she tried something instantly. Just before this when Zuko was with her, she attacked him. No matter her mental state or her age, Azula is dangerous and deadly, and she has not changed. They have no reason to trust her. They have the right to be distrustful of her and to warn her not to step out of line. I know people like to ignore the fact that Azula is still an Ozai sympathizer and an imperialist who partook gleefully in the war efforts and like to only see her as a mentally ill 14-year-old girl, but that's not what the show says, and neither do the comics, so.

I'm guessing it's wrong of the Gaang to react when someone who has previously proved to be more than ready to hurt them and kill them tries to hurt one of their friends. Sure, Azula wasn't going to hurt him severely, but she sure did hurt him enough for him to yell out and fall down. And considering everything else, the Gaang are right to try to protect themselves from someone they perceive as a threat. Sokka wasn't even close to her, damn it. Azula has no right at all to be making demands of the Gaang, and they don't have an obligation to treat her the way she wants to be, like they are her servants and like they are inferior to her.

Argument: "Zuko threatens Azula for no reason and abuses her!"

Azula is someone who has proven to be a threat time and again, and here she is yelling strange things and inching closer with an angry look in her eye. For people like Zuko, it is understandable that this looks like a threatening situation. We know what Azula is talking about, but all they can see is her behaving in a way that could be threatening.

She yells accusatory things and looks angry, and she is moving closer to the rest of the Gaang, almost like she is ready to attack them for something. And so Zuko tells her that that's enough. And he releases some... steam, I guess? He doesn't even bend a flame. And yet he's abusing her somehow. And then she makes it sound like he's overreacting. If someone you knew was dangerous started coming closer to you while yelling with a strange look in their eyes, would you try to wonder why exactly they're behaving like this and if they're alright, or would you prepare to defend yourself?

And here we also see Azula blaming the Gaang for ruining her life and not, you know, her abuser Ozai. So sure, of course she'd accept Zuko's help when she thinks he's to blame for her misfortune and not her own actions and Ozai's abuse.

I too wish Toph was here.

Argument: "The Gaang abused a defenseless Azula, Part 2."

Defenseless Azula breaks the deal she forced Zuko to make with her and jumps off Appa when they're too high.

Aang saves her and she blasts him.

Now, we know in this scene that Azula is having visions of her mother and that she's hearing things. We know that she's not exactly of sound mind when she goes on rampages. But the Gaang doesn't know that. Zuko doesn't know that, and he has no way of knowing because she won't tell him. Even when he asks her who she is talking to, she just yells at him and rebuffs him.

Look at Zuko, saying that he doesn't want to fight Azula with a sad expression. How abusive!

Azula throws the first blow here. She isn't seeing things when she attacks Zuko, she just used him to get here and now she wants to get rid of him. And Zuko is doing what he said he'd do, keeping her in line. And don't say he should have just let Azula go. He wouldn't be a very good Fire Lord if he let the lightning bending imperialist go off on her own.

And then the Gaang takes her down after she attacked them first. So if that's abuse, then I don't know what to say.

Argument: "Zuko abusing his sister, Part 3."

Very abusive, yes.

Oh, and he finds a secret she's been keeping from him! That's so abusive!

Argument: "Zuko abusing his mentally ill sister, Part 4."

She attacks him first. You could make the argument that it's because she's having visions of her mother, and yeah, she is. But Zuko doesn't know all this because she won't tell him. And also, as it should be obvious to everyone, that's not an excuse.

Then there's a fight scene.

Argument: "Zuko cruelly held Azula off a cliff to threaten her and hurt her! He's abusing her while she is clearly not well!"

Ah, this infamous scene. Where Zuko holds his weak and defenseless sister off a cliff and laughs maniacally at her suffering while she pleads with him to spare her- oh wait.

Obviously, he dragged her to a cliff just so he could hold her off it. It's not like they were fighting in that environment. It's not like she just fell near the cliff's edge and he picked her up.

I honestly don't see anything wrong with what he did. He's clearly defending himself from her, and holds her over the cliff so that she won't attack him again, and so that he can make her listen to him after she has acted out again and again in a violent and dangerous way. She was attacking him, and this was the only way he could get her to listen to him. If you think he was considering dropping her, you don't know Zuko at all.

Anyway, this is actually one of the few scenes from any of these comics that actually made me feel something. It's an expression of the tragedy of their relationship from Zuko, and also him standing up to another abuser in his life. Yes, Azula abused Zuko, that much is not up for debate. Here, Zuko is finally confronting Azula on the horrible was she's treated him their whole life. I don't begrudge him that. And him saying "since the day you were born," is obviously not literal. Like, I can't believe I have to say this unironically. If people say "I must have walked a thousand miles," do we take it literally or do we understand that it is an exaggerated way of expressing that someone has walked a long way? It's the same thing here. Just because Zuko exaggerates his speech does not mean that the sentiment he is expressing is untrue. This is such a stupid line to get hung up over, but gotta take every inch you get when the whole text is against you, I guess.

Argument: "The Gaang abusing Azula, Part 5."

Where the Gaang verbally abuse Azula who is clearly hurt by their cruel words- hold on.

Ah, yes. Call the people who are somehow still putting up with you "louts," Azula. I am sure that is a very good and proper way to treat people who have every right to throw you back in jail and be on their way. They don't even say anything back to her. The Gaang has the patience of saints, honestly.

Thank you Sokka for being the one with common sense. I suppose he's also a villain now for saying "she's tried to kill us twelve times" when that's not true, it was only about two times. Which clearly makes it better.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 6."

Azula antagonizes a child, Zuko tells her to knock it off.

He's being so cruel to her.

Argument: "The Gaang abusing Azula, Part 7."

She attacked them. They defended themselves. It doesn't matter if she saw her mother in a vision. That's not an excuse and it's not the Gaang's problem. It's not Zuko's obligation to help his abuser, especially since she doesn't want his help anyway.

Gee, all these arguments are starting to sound awfully similar. It's almost like Azula always instigates fights and the Gaang defend themselves. Hmm.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 8."

She attacked first. Again.

This time she even attacked two actually defenseless people.

Argument: "Zuko gave the Gaang permission to attack Azula for no reason at all! The used their position to abuse her!"

No, he gave them permission to take her down because she went too far and attacked innocent people who did nothing to her.

Honestly, Zuko should have done this a lot sooner. She's tried to kill them four times already. She hasn't listened to them when they tell her not to do something and she's endangered all of them many times. She's being granted more than she deserves by the Gaang, and yet she goes on to do things they explicitly tell her not to do because it might hurt the forest or other people. She's proven that she is not concerned about who she hurts as long as she gets what she wants, and it took until she attacked people who weren't the Gaang for Zuko to suggest taking her down. The fact that he didn't give the okay for this the first time she tried to kill them is honestly a testament to his character.

Azula had this coming. No amount of the excuse of mental illness is enough to justify her actions. Even if she has a mental illness, it doesn't give her the right to attack others. And Zuko has all the right to defend himself and realize that working with Azula is impossible. He doesn't look happy to be doing this. He looks quite sad, in fact. I joked around a little in this post but seriously, anyone who says Zuko is the one abusing Azula is interpreting the text in very bad faith. I know people like it when Azula is a victim so that they can justify her hurting others, but Zuko and the Gaang had every right to retaliate throughout this comic whenever Azula attacked them or hurt someone else. These two siblings aren't even the last non-Gaang people Azula hurts in this comic.

Argument: "Zuko abusing Azula, Part 9."

Wherein Azula attacks her mother who doesn't remember her and her defenseless family with the intent to kill.

Now I'm not heartless. I feel for Azula here, I really do. That panel of her with tears in her eyes truly makes me feel sad. She definitely didn't deserve what happened to her throughout her life at Ozai's hands. She didn't deserve to feel unloved and feel like her mother thought she was a monster. She didn't deserve to be abused by Ozai. Azula deserves to heal, she deserves to be loved, she deserves to be treated well and she deserves better.

None of this gives her the right to hurt other people. Innocent people. She may feel her mother has wronged her, but it's not true. And she doesn't get to attack her mother, who doesn't even remember her, out of hatred and anger. She doesn't get to kill this innocent woman and attack her family. And Zuko is not in the wrong for stopping her. Zuko is not the wrong for protecting his mother and her family. Zuko is not abusive for defending other people and himself from Azula. Because even if Azula is hurt, she is taking it out on other people who have done nothing to deserve it.

Zuko redirecting her lightning back at her doesn't kill her, and I'm sure Zuko knows that it wouldn't. He doesn't want her dead. He doesn't want to hurt her. He wouldn't have thrown her over the cliff for that very reason. Despite everything, Zuko loves Azula. He cares about her. He wants to have a good relationship with her. He's very affected by the knowledge that their relationship is so bad. He truly wants to help her. But it is Azula who is resistant to that help. It is Azula who thinks her brother is weak and deserves to be hurt. It is Azula who despite wanting love, chooses to push people away and hurt them over and over again.

He's saddened at her running away, he chases her and pleads with her to let him help. But it is Azula who refuses him, who rebuffs him and attacks him at every turn. It is Azula who is always the aggressor, it is Azula who is at fault in their relationship, all because she believes that everyone is to blame for her mistakes but herself. And the only way she can heal is if she realizes who the blame truly lies with, Ozai, and rejects everything he's taught her, that love is weakness and to rule with fear. She needs help, but Zuko is not obligated to provide it to her. And yet he does, out of the kindness and compassion in his heart, and the love he has for his sister.

Argument: "He abused her in the show, then! Since this post only talks about the comics!"

That's because it should be obvious to anyone watching that Zuko didn't abuse Azula. If anyone thinks Zuko abused Azula, I invite them to watch a show called Avatar: The Last Airbender. It's really quite good.

So I feel like I've covered most arguments I've seen. But I do want to talk some more about why exactly I wrote all this, why I wasted two hours of my life on this.

Anyone who goes through the ATLA tag on my blog will probably reach the correct conclusion that Zuko is my favorite character, and that he and his arc mean a lot to me. And so, it's honestly not great to see people undermine all of the suffering Zuko has gone through in his life, all to justify Azula's abusive behaviors. It's not wrong to like Azula and love her character. She's a complex character that many find relatable, and that's not wrong. But to accuse another character, her actual victim in the series and one whom many can relate to as well, of being her abuser and denying her abuse of him... it's not a great look. It reeks of victim blaming and abuse apologism. And it's not true. Azula is an example of how victims of abuse can become abusers themselves. This is what she represents in the show. And it is not wrong for people to call out Azula and not Zuko, because Zuko got called out in universe, called himself out and he changed. Zuko redeemed himself and became a good person.

Azula has not done that. She hasn't changed, she hasn't acknowledged that she is wrong, and therefore people are allowed to criticize her and dislike her, and they are allowed to call out her abuse and her other actions. People call out Zuko for his bad actions as well, but the fact of the matter is that he changed, and people don't feel the need to call him out anymore because he's done it himself. Zuko doesn't need the same criticism Azula does because he grew and she didn't, that's it. So all the talking points about how people don't call out Zuko as much as Azula or that they don't criticize his bad actions are moot because of his very widely acknowledged and celebrated redemption arc. Because he realized his mistakes and worked hard to fix them. So, there is really no point in criticizing him anymore the way there is for Azula, since she hasn't changed. And it is not "hate" for people to understand that despite Azula's abuse at Ozai's hands, she dealt the same thing to her brother for years. And it is not wrong for people to criticize her for it.

All this talk about how Azula is always being hurt and betrayed by everyone, and all this talk about how Zuko is weak unlike Azula is the exact same reasoning Azula uses that enables her to abuse others within the story, the reasoning that Ozai instilled in her. It is quite literally the parroting of Ozai's beliefs, that Zuko is weak and soft, and that Azula is strong and powerful and yet she's a victim of everybody. She believes that others deserve to be hurt because they are too weak or because they are responsible for her suffering, and not her or Ozai. In the end, it wasn't Zuko who drove away her friends Mai and Ty Lee, and Mai and Ty Lee did not "betray" her. It was Azula's cruel treatment of them because she controlled them through fear that drove them away from her, and when push came to shove they stood up for the people the loved and for themselves. It wasn't Zuko who drove away their mother, it was Ozai. It wasn't Iroh who hated Azula and wanted her dead, it was Azula who hated Iroh and wanted him dead, and these are all things she learnt from Ozai. She can only ever grow if she realizes her mistakes and accepts the blame for her own actions, and if she stops blaming her victims for her suffering and starts blaming her abuser.

Blaming Zuko for defending himself from her and calling that abuse is victim blaming. Whether you like it or not, Azula did abuse Zuko. She had power over him, she targeted his insecurities constantly, she lied to him multiple times and made him doubt his own perceptions, she manipulated and gaslit him and made him feel unsafe in his home. She supported Ozai's abuse of Zuko and participated in it and took pleasure in it. Zuko never did anything of the sort to her. He reacted to her abuse in a way he never did with Ozai until the end, but that does not mean he wasn't affected by it or that it didn't happen, because it did, and even though he fought back with her, he was often defeated and Azula always managed to manipulate and terrify him. For fuck's sake, he literally had a chant, "Azula always lies," so that he could comfort himself after she terrorized him, something that he's been saying to himself for years according to Zuko Alone. People will point to Zuko challenging Azula as him abusing her back, but what defines abuse is the power dynamics. There is no such thing as mutual abuse. Abuse is all about one party having power over the other, and in Azula and Zuko's relationship, she had all the power over him because she was the favored child. Of course, this was also damaging for her, very much so, but it means that she had power over him, and he didn't.

Azula is a tragic character and her life is a sad one. But that doesn't make her any less of a bad person, and it doesn't mean she is not a toxic individual. Her actions have hurt other in many ways, and she does not feel remorse. She finds pleasure in the pain of others, especially her brother, at whom she smiled in glee when he was being maimed by their father. She took over a city and killed someone and did it with a smile on her face. She tried to kill her brother and laughed about it. She gleefully suggested genocide, and wanted to take part in it. And she hasn't changed, so people are allowed to dislike her and call her out for it. Personally, I believe that Azula has the capacity to change and to redeem herself. I don't think she's too far gone or is irredeemable. She is not as bad as Ozai, and it's not too late for her.

No one deserves a redemption. It has to be something you actively work for, something you do and it is something that you have to work for. Azula can change if she truly wants to. She has people who are willing to help her if she so chooses, like Zuko for better or worse for him. But that means admitting to her mistakes, acknowledging that she is wrong and has hurt people, and making the effort to change, which so far she has not done. And Zuko is not obligated to forgive her or help her in any way, and neither are the Gaang or Iroh.

You can like a villainous character. You can like a character who is a bad person. It's not wrong. What is wrong is to paint another character in a bad light, in a false light, to justify your love for another character. And especially in this case since Azula is Zuko's abuser, turning the tables and calling him her abuser for defending himself against her all because you want to excuse Azula's actions and want her to be a victim is really not great. Accusing Iroh and Ursa of being responsible for her downfall is not great. All this is directing blame away from the real abuser, Ozai. And it veers into victim blaming and abuse apologism, like I said.

Being a fan of Azula doesn't mean you can handwave away her less than savory traits or cherry-pick the ones you like. She is a victim, but she's also an abuser. And it is not "bashing" or misogyny for people to call her out. Calling out Zuko is also okay and allowed, but it is honestly less productive since he changed himself already. I understand that people don't like when their favorite characters are criticized or hated, but that doesn't mean characters who do bad things are exempt from being called out. And it doesn't give anyone the excuse to start misrepresenting other characters and hating on them to prop up their fave. Fans of characters who are villainous should understand that. And in this case, anyone who is a fan of Azula should understand that.

#ATLA #Avatar The Last Airbender #Zuko #Aang #Katara #Sokka #Ty Lee #Iroh #Prince Zuko #ATLA Zuko #ATLA Aang #ATLA Iroh #ATLA Katara #The Search #ATLA Comics #Meta #My meta #Anti Azula #Azula critical #Azula negative #Pro Zuko #Abuse cw #Abuse tw

[engelfeather]

Whats a g/t trope y'all genuinely hate, but is considered a "hot take"

For me it's borrower stories, specifically those that always follow the same formula and never get creative.

As in, borrower is outside looking for food or smt, somehow gets into a situation where they are trapped, human finds them, borrower is scared and tries to flee, yet gets trapped under a glsss, with the human assuring them that they're kind and won't harm them. Then after a few chapters, the borrower leaves behind all the fear they held for humans and becomes close friends with them (this especially throws me off whenever the borrower has had a friend or a family member be killed by a human). They usually also meet their friends who are also super nice.

I understand that most humans wouldn't be out here tormenting a tiny person they found, but I honestly don't get the hype behind stories where it's only fluff and basically almost always the same plot.

The human characters are usually the most boring to read about, which is a huge let down for me. Especially as, it feels weird that I've yet to see a borrower story where the human genuinely freaks out that a tiny person has been watching them all along.

I mean how disturbing is it to know that you were being watched all this time, that you were never truly alone. Including in moments where you were feeling down.

For more interesting prompts, you could have the human actually be someone insane, that sees the borrower as nothing more than another experiment or something to exploit for money, with the borrower showing them that they are sentient, yet, perhaps, due to sn inability to understand each other, the humans doesn't understand what they're doing.

Or

Have the borrower have a whole web of crime with other borrowers, where they purposefully steal things from humans to make their days just a little more upsetting. Getting back at them for, maybe, having hunted them in the past. Have borrowers actually be evil little gremlins or something.

Heck, maybe even have the two be criminals, with the borrower helping breaking into people's houses and spying on them, to see who has the best stuff to steal from and the human doing the rest.

And if you do give your borrower a sadder backstory, please please please let them deal with their trauma and not completely remove it for fluff. Have them have moments where they feel inferior and break down, rushing back to their holes regardless of if the human is being nice or not. Let the human get frustrated with the borrower for not fully trusting them, not knowing the full story. LET THEM HAVE TENSE MOMENTS WITH EACH OTHER. I WANT TO SEE THEM FIGHT

MAKE THEM HAVE CLASHING PERSONALITIES WHERE THEY OFTEN GET INTO HEATED ARGUMENTS

Idfkanyway hope you liked this silly lil ranty rant I wrote. No hate to anyone who writes borrower stories, considering my own story has borrower elements.

-Lucky

#giant/tiny #giant #giant tiny #gt #sfw giant/tiny #sizetumblr #tiny #borrowers #sfw #borrower #rant post #rant #Gt rant #borrower story #story prompts #idk what else to tag #idk how to tag this

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Can we get another Jack champion x reader fluff or angst?

I hope you like this! It's a little short because I'm still trying to get used to writing specifically for him and not Ethan haha.

Where I Left You - Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jack breaks up with you, but immediately realizes his mistake, so he tries to get you back.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, I cuss in everything I write, sorry haha

A/N: I tried, y'all. lmao

When you got the text from Jack that he wanted to talk, you were so excited to hear his voice. When he answered, you didn’t hear his normal happy tone, his voice was a little sad as he started to speak.

“I think we need to break up,” he said, his words like a punch to your stomach. You couldn’t believe this was why he wanted to call you. “This long-distance shit is just so hard.”

“Jack, we’ve been together for almost a year…and now you all of a sudden just want to break up?” you asked, your voice starting to crack as you fought to hold it together. “You knew distance was going to be tough, but you said we’d work through it.”

“I thought I could. My filming schedule is just so crazy. It’s not fair to you that you barely hear from me,” he sighed, “I’ve only spoken to you for an hour in total over the last three weeks. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve.”

You were starting to get a little frustrated. “I understood going in to this relationship that it wouldn’t be easy, Jack. Shit, I even got a plane ticket to come surprise you during the few off days you have next week.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, “Babe, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” you said, rolling your watery eyes, “I’m an idiot for being so excited to see you when you’re okay just dumping me over the phone. I guess this relationship didn’t mean much to you.”

“Babe-“ was all he got out before you hung up.

Jack’s heart was racing as he heard the beeping from the call being ended, the regret and guilt instantly weighing heavy on his chest.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as he tried to call you back. The call went straight to voicemail, his anxiety getting worse by the second as he thought about how badly he’d just messed up.

He loved you, he really did, but he hated that he couldn’t be what he thought you needed. His thoughts had been running crazy in his head for weeks, not knowing what the best thing to do was, but now that he’d ended the relationship, he knew this option wasn’t the right one.

Seeing your dedication to him and wanting to come surprise him during his off days gave him an idea, a way to try to fix his mistake. He got a plane ticket to come see you, hoping you’d give him the time of day once he got there.

You’d barely left your room for almost a week, binging rom-coms and hating how the couple always ended up together when you were so heartbroken, but you felt like you needed a reminder that not all relationships end in heartbreak. Even if it was all fake.

You had your phone on ‘Do not disturb’, seeing all of the texts, missed calls, and voicemails from Jack whenever you decided to check your phone. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, because you were so hurt. How could he just give up on the relationship instead of just talking to you about it first?

You heard a knock on your front door, happily going over to open it because you thought it was the food you’d ordered. Your face dropped when you saw Jack nervously standing in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, noticing a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Can you please hear me out?” he asked, his eyes pleading with yours as he stood there.

“Why should I?” you asked, “You can’t just show up with flowers and expect me to want to talk to you.”

“I know I messed up…please,” he sighed. You hesitated for a few seconds, before stepping aside so he could walk in. As sad as you were, you missed him so much.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said, as he handed them to you. “What did you want to talk about?” 

“Us,” he sighed, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Maybe the right thing would’ve been you talking to me before you made your decision to end things,” you said, sitting down on the couch, “because I would’ve told you how dumb of an idea it was.”

“I know it was. I knew the second you hung up,” he said, sitting down beside you, “I thought it was the right thing to do. How fair is it for you to have a boyfriend that can only talk to you for a few minutes at night before bed? You deserve so much more than that.”

“You think that, but you are what’s best for me. I love you regardless of if you have time to talk to me or not. I understand that you’re busy,” you said, as he nodded.

“I can’t believe I ever thought letting you go was the right thing to do. I love you so much…this has been the hardest week,” he said, as he started to get a little choked up. “I’m so sorry. Would you ever give me another chance?”

You started to feel your broken heart piece itself back together in your chest, but you were still worried that he’d just want to break up again, and you weren’t sure if you could put yourself through it.

“I don’t know, Jack. You really hurt me,” you sighed, feeling your eyes start to water as you thought back to all the different emotions you’d felt over the last week.

“One of the things you said during that phone call keeps replaying in my head…when you said the relationship didn’t mean much to me…that’s not true. I want this. I want to be with you. If you need time to think about it, I understand,” he sighed as he started to stand up. “I should probably go.”

He made his way towards the door as you stood up and followed him. Once you got close enough, you grabbed his hand. He turned around to face you, his chin quivering as he tried so hard not to cry in front of you.

“You need to stop walking away the second you feel like you can’t handle something,” you said, reaching up to wipe the single tear that slid down his cheek. “I love you. We can try this again, but only if you promise me you won’t dump me again.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said, as he leaned down to kiss you. “I see a future with you. I’m not going to fuck this up again.”

“A future, huh?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips as he nodded.

“This week wouldn’t have hurt so much if we weren’t meant to be together,” he said, as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him again. “I’m not saying I want to get married tomorrow, but just know that I want that with you someday.”

“I’d like that,” you said, “I can’t believe you flew out here. I’m sure you needed the rest.”

“I needed you more.”

#jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.6

A/n: It's here y'all! After this part we'll be getting into the show and I can't wait to start incorporating my own character into the episodes!

I need your input! I'm currently going through the show episode by episode to pull out what I want to use for this fic and I've reached ep5 when Travis first turns up and I am seriously undecided about his relationship with the reader. It is more than likely that they would have interacted on the circuit but I'm split between him having a flirty relationship or a older-brother-protective vibe. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1649

Previous part - Next part

---

That summer was one of the hottest y/n could ever recall having in Montana.  Unfortunately hot weather didn’t negate the fact that there was always work to do on the ranch.  Yesterday one of the freshly backed colts had thrown a fit in the corral resulting in kicking the fence hard enough to break it.  So the job for the day was to put a new log into the fence so they could use the corral again.

Y/n had abandoned jeans in favour of shorts out in the sun, a tank top and she had opted to swap her cowboy hat for the cap Kayce had given her for her birthday despite having claimed she’d never wear it around the wranglers.  Lloyd was holding the log up whilst she worked to secure it to the post.

Around the corral the other hands were doing their own work and a small group of them were hiding from the sun in the shade of the barn.  They were mostly busy watching y/n do her own work, more specifically how she looked in her shorts.

“God damn that girl has an ass,” one of them commented.

Another one agreed, “you just know that she’d give you a good time.”

Colby and Ryan were a little way off cleaning tack getting more annoyed at every comment the men were making.  Ryan was getting more frustrated by what they were saying and how oblivious she was to how they were treating her.  His friend was less concerned about that and more occupied trying to stop the hand from doing something he would regret.

Rip emerged from the barn to say something to them when Ryan snapped at them, “will you shut the fuck up?  It’s disgusting to hear you talk about her like that.  She’s your boss’ daughter for fuck sake have some damn respect.  Someone’ll rip your tongues out for saying that next time.” 

Y/n overheard his shouting from across the corral and couldn’t help but smile to herself at his defence of her.  Ever since Rip had threatened him (and the rest of the bunkhouse but they clearly hadn’t taken those threats to heart) after finding her asleep in Ryan’s bunk years ago, he’d been very careful with his interactions with the younger woman.  They’d remained close friends, and he’d been instrumental in her integration with the wranglers, but it had never gone further than that despite what both of them not-so-secretly wanted to happen.

Lloyd looked at the smile on her face and rolled his eyes, “y’all have been pining after each other for years.  When will it end?”

“If I had a say in it it would’ve been over before anyone noticed but if he has it his way it seems like never,” y/n sighed, “I think Rip’s threat from forever ago ruined it.”

He watched Ryan whose eyes were on her, “might go insane if I have to watch y’all making eyes at each other for much longer.  You and I can both handle Rip if needs be.”

She laughed at the idea of someone ‘handling’ Rip.  The only people she believed were able to handle the foreman were her father and Beth, no matter how poorly her sister treated the man.  In reality, Rip had a soft spot for the youngest Dutton and Lloyd was the only wrangler on the ranch that would stand a chance arguing against Rip.  He left her to go and deal with something else, leaving Colby to help with the other side of the fence.

“Swear he woulda murdered them if it had gone on much longer,” her friend joked, “practically fire in his eyes when he saw how they were looking at you.”

Y/n shook her head, “I’ve been trying to get him to make a move since I was 18, Colby.  I don’t think he’s gonna start now.”

“I love both of you but I will help Lloyd lock you in the tack room if this goes on any longer.  Feel sorry for the poor bastard watching this for years.  I’m done with it after a few months,” Colby laughed, “just make a move for everyone’s benefit.”

-/-/-

That evening the temperature had cooled down from the scorcher of the afternoon but it was still uncomfortable, hot enough that y/n was still wearing shorts.  Most of the hands were sitting around the table playing cards but she had chosen to sit the game out in favour of reading the book she’d been waiting weeks for.  Every once in a while some of the conversation would break through her reading bubble and y/n would laugh at the insults that got thrown around half-heartedly.

After a little while the focus of their conversation moved away from their game of poker to their romance lives, or more accurately their struggles with romance being wranglers.  They were complaining about how difficult it was with their work schedules to meet girls.  Y/n shook her head slightly at their trivial problems.

“Reckon we’d all be better off if Dutton over there gave a piece of ass up,” a hand commented nonchalantly.  

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth, Ryan was out of his chair as was Colby to stop his friend doing something.  Colby grabbed his shoulder and arm, keeping him firmly away from the other hand.

“Hit a nerve have I?  Thought she was supposed to be off limits to the bunkhouse?  Just you getting at or you sharing it with your friend?  Care to let us join in on-”

Before he was able to finish his sentence, Lloyd had punched him, “you don’t speak about her like that, ever.  Anyone thinks that’s okay and there’s more than just me to answer for.  Rip will know about this.”

The tension in the room was broken by the sound of the door slamming shut and they looked up to see that y/n was no longer sitting on the sofa.

Lloyd looked over at Ryan, “I think you best follow her.  Now or never, son.”

-/-/-

Ryan exited the bunkhouse and saw her sat on the corral fence in the fading light, cigarette smoke drifting into the sky.  He headed across the drive to join her and leant against the fence beside her, letting her finish the cigarette before starting the conversation.  When she was done, y/n threw the stub into the sand and watched silently as it smoked on the ground.  Her eyes remained fixed on the mountains as if she could pretend he wasn’t there if she didn’t look at him despite the fact his arm was practically touching her thigh.

“You gonna say anything?” She asked.

Ryan sighed, “was kinda waiting for you to start the conversation this time, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.  I really don’t need you jumping to protect me the moment one of them says something about me.  Can’t be a ranch hand and not expect someone to say something about it.  I’m a big girl.  Plus Rip has it handled, something you haven’t seemed to forget,” y/n added bitterly.

“You can’t seriously expect me to just sit there and let them say that shit about you y/n?  No one should say that,” he argued.

Y/n looked at him, “that’s exactly what I expect.  You got no right to be that overprotective with the people we fuckin’ work with when you’re just as bad as them sitting staring at me like that.”

“The fuck are you tryna say,” Ryan growled.

She sighed and turned around, getting off the fence to move away from him.  Y/n turned away to take another cigarette from her pocket to avoid answering his question.  He watched her for a moment as she took a long inhale before turning back to look at him.

“It’s all good and well you tryna fight anyone who has something to say about me but we both know you ain’t gonna do anything about it except just sit there and stare because you’re fuckin afraid!  I’m so over it Ryan either make the move I’ve been waiting for you to make for 10 years or stop acting like you get a say in my life,” she ranted at him.

Ryan took her in in front of him, cigarette between her lips and frustration in her eyes before making his decision.  Within one step he was in front of her, taking a moment to see if she would stop him before taking the cigarette out of her mouth and putting it out under his boot.  Y/n inhaled sharply when he placed his hands gently on her hips, using them to walk her backwards until her back hit the barn wall.  

Ryan kept one hand on her hip and moved the other to her cheek, “last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.”

“Been waiting for you since I was 18 don’t make me wait any longer,” she whispered into the space between them.

With no more hesitation he kissed her.  Y/n responded by fisting her hands in the front of his shirt.  After a moment, he pulled away and rested his forehead against her.  Y/n allowed her eyes to fall shut as she reveled in the moment she’d been imagining for so long.

Ryan kissed her again, “do I live up to expectations sweetheart?”

“Better than I could have hoped,” y/n smiled, “we’re gonna have to be careful though.  I reckon I can handle Rip if I need to but if dad finds out he won’t hesitate to fire you and I won’t let you leave here.”

He nodded, “I’ll follow your lead.  Colby won’t say anything and Lloyd’ll just be happy that he no longer has to deal with me staring at you longingly.”

“Gonna be fun sneaking round.  Never got to do it in high school,” she teased.

Ryan laughed, “you’ll be worth it sweetheart.”

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #dutton ranch #dutton!reader #ian bohen

[crumpet-doodles]

Hey! Umm, can y'all give me your headcanons for Solar from the Sun and Moon show? I'd just like to see them, no matter how weird you think they might be! Here are a few of mine:

☆ Solar might have claustrophobia

I honestly do think that he might have some sort of claustrophobia. I'm basing this off of two things that happened in the lore vids:

In "Eclipse MOVES IN in VRCHAT," when Moon says that he could convert one of the party rooms into a temporary living space for Solar, Solar says "I'm more uh... I don't really like rooms." I know this was probably a bit overlooked, but on my second re-watch I noticed it, and an idea started forming in my brain-

Another example is in "Eclipse has a NEW IDENTITY!? in VRCHAT," where as he and Moon walk through this long, horrendously yellowish-orange hallway, Solar says "I hate this room. This hallway." This could be taken as to how empty the hallway is (As Moon comments) or to how it reminds him of a Half Life 2 map. (I think that's what he said-) Again, this could be easily ignored, but it just adds to my little theory~

One more thing is just something I speculate- he might have claustrophobia from some kind of trauma from his old dimension, specifically from the Moon that he lived with. I think that his Moon was highly abusive to him, and I can imagine him being put into a similar situation as Sun, where his Moon trapped him in a magical barrier, and left him there alone for an unspecified period of time. I can also imagine Solar just generally being trapped in a room/isolated, because Moon didn't know what else to do when Solar first... appeared? I guess? In his Sun.

Also, he'd probably try to hide it because he thinks it's stupid.

☆ Solar is an insomniac

I honestly think that he just has a hard time sleeping, his brain is just running around everywhere 24/7- (Damn he's pretty relatable)

He will literally run himself into the ground before taking a break/resting. In "Eclipse has a NEW IDENTITY!? in VRCHAT," Moon calls him an "insane motherfucker" when he admits that he fixed the Daycare, Theater, Gift Shop, and more, in a week. A WEEK. Then after a tour and some talk, he passes out from running out of battery, due to being on 1% charge. He's overworking himself. He needs sleep.

HE SOUNDS ABSOLUTELY EXHAUSTED IN "Lunar and Earth's GROUP THERAPY in VRCHAT," LIKE BRO- He said he was working on 2 separate things, both for 5 hours straight- He really needs to sleep- get him a beanbag or something-

Also, this could be another trauma-related thing, where he just doesn't feel safe sleeping, or he has nightmares. However, this is probably just me overthinking and reading too much into this situation.

When he DOES fall asleep, it's usually in the most arbitrary places ever. At the desk in the daycare, in one of the play structures, etc. I... have a feeling that he's probably fallen asleep on that green little mat/platform thing in the ball pit before. Or just literally in the ball pit itself.

☆ Solar's just generally insecure about his looks

Looking like the OG Eclipse model, he probably has some issues with what he looks like, and is most likely frustrated about how people keep mistaking him for Eclipse.

Also, coming back to the whole "his dimension's Moon giving him trauma" thing. His Moon probably called him a lot of things, all of them horrible. Solar keeps mentioning how aggressive and angry his Moon was, so again, it would fit the profile.

In "Lunar and Earth's GROUP THERAPY in VRCHAT," When Solar talks about him working, Earth says "That might have something to do with you not feeling like you fit in." Please, he needs comfort and more therapy-

☆Solar is touch starved

Do I even have to explain?

Also, I feel like even though he IS touch starved, he doesn't... realize it, exactly. He has really closed off body language (For some reason I can imagine that his idle pose/stance is having his arms crossed) and is just generally unsure about how he should properly show physical affection.

Do you know what I mean? Like, you think you just don't like physical touch, but it just turns out you were full of anxiety on how to properly show it that when somebody DOES end up giving you a hug or something similar that the realization just... hits you? Really hard? (Dear Stars this is over-specific am I ok???) Solar might also be comfortable with one person/small group of people actually touching him. Or if people ask. (Ok I need to shut up, now I'm just projecting my personal experiences into my headcanons for him-)

This could also be attributed to the insecure thing but eh.

Quick thing I'd also like to say, his model, (or "suit," as they call it in the show) is slightly different from the other's, because as his dimension's Moon stated, it was an older model that never got used. I think it's just lankier, skinnier, and maybe has a tail, as these features were being experimented with for the newer daycare attendants, the ones who actually got used (Solar's dimension's Sun and Moon.)

(Note: I might edit this post as things change/lore vids drop!)

(Damn, this turned into a whole-ass essay-) So yeah! If you've made it this far, thank you, and if you have any headcanons of your own that you're willing to share, please do! I'd be delighted to see them!

#tsams #tsams Solar #headcanon #Y'all please this took me too long- #nice eclipse #tsams nice eclipse #give me your headcanons #I shall gladly devour them #In the most normal way possible #the sun and moon show #The sun and moons show Solar #tsams good eclipse

[scientia-rex]

Something so weird about how big my "I'm just frustrated at how many people willfully misinterpret my annoyingly popular post" became another popular (for me. I have low standards) post where people go "I can't BELIEVE you're not SPECIFICALLY ADDRESSING EVERY SINGLE CONCERN I HAVE" and also people telling me I don't know how to read research or I'm misrepresenting it. Ok bitch! a) I know what I know, so I know I read research just fine. Product labels, no. I was horrified to realize that I'd bought strawberry MILK at the boba place, because somehow I thought some kind of non-milk strawberry milk would instead be the drink base. So lactose intolerant. So much regret. b) It's possible to make reasonable arguments, but you're not doing it. So far I have had a couple of people go "that research doesn't count!" and a whole ONE PERSON even bothered to link ONE SOURCE. I'm like come ON!!!!! I was in GRAD SCHOOL! I love a good academic throwdown! Saying shit like "your theory lacks credible basis" HAS to come from someone with more street cred than a tiny little avatar of Rick and/or Morty. I am giving you a BAD GRADE IN ADVERSARY, something that is normal to hate and possible to avoid. c) If you're going to be a dick, you realize I'm just gonna block you, right? Like, I've said it before, I'll say it again, engagement is a curse and a prison, I just want to be left alone with my 4 fandom friends to rot, all y'all grouped around the edges of this campfire watching me better NOT BE WEIRD ABOUT THIS.

Work today was bananas and I came home, took one third of an edible, and ate Bagel Bites. I'm almost 40 years old and I'm arguing with teens on the Internet on a work night and I love my life. Also, I have two dogs on the couch next to me and I'm sitting under a blanket with art of dogs wearing Halloween costumes. My life RULES. If you could have told 14-year-old me what this future was like, she would have been horrified by my body, but otherwise pretty into it. (Fatphobia gets beaten into us starting so, so young.)

#the attending dr. kristophine

[lilcreaturethingfromthewoods]

For ppl studying Dracula - character study

it is time.

I am talking to y'all about possibly one of the most underrated and interesting (to me) characters in classical literature.

We are talking about Renfield.

I'm going to be talking for a while, so bear with me.

So when we first meet him, he’s introduced to us as Seward’s ‘pet lunatic’, who has a weird (gross) habit of collecting flies and spiders and eating them. But it quickly becomes clear how perceptive he is - he can tell when Dracula arrives and refers to him as ‘master’. It seems that Renfield is being set up as an antagonist at first with this almost religious worship of and possible connection to Dracula, but the more we see of him, the harder he becomes to understand. There are times when he’s the ‘pet lunatic’ with his flies and spiders, other times when he’s more excited and talking about ‘the Master’, but most importantly, there are intervals when he is very well-spoken and lucid, seemingly sane - and the interesting thing about these lucid states is that they occur at specific times, usually towards sunrise and sunset; which, if you pay attention to the timings, are THE EXACT TIMES WHEN DRACULA’S POWER IS DIMINISHED. The most important example, in my opinion, is when Renfield asks Seward (together with Van Helsing, Quincey and Arthur) to let him go home. He starts very calm, arguing his point eloquently and sensibly, trying to prove how sane he is in the moment. Seward refuses, and Renfield continues to talk, becoming more and more frustrated and desperate until he is almost hysterical, unwittingly convincing them of his insanity. But why is he so desperate to leave at this very moment? Well, the very next day is when Mina starts becoming tired and lethargic - incidentally, the very same symptoms Lucy showed when Dracula started drinking her blood. Coincidence? I very much think not. What is more, this impassioned plea to be allowed to leave happens at four in the morning - in other words, just before dawn. In other words, Renfield KNEW that, if he stayed, he would not be able to stop Dracula getting in (even if he didn’t know who he was after), and he had to leave right then because it was the only time he was actually in control of his own mind.

But the biggest thing about Renfield - he is found, beaten up with a broken back after Dracula has paid a visit. Why did Dracula bother? Because Renfield realised that he had been feeding on Mina, who was the first person to treat him as a fellow human being instead of a ‘pet lunatic’. Let me repeat: it was RENFIELD who realised. Nobody else. Not Van Helsing, who is supposed to be the vampire expert. Not her own husband, who has been at close quarters with Dracula before. No, it took RENFIELD to figure it out, despite being not entirely sane and only having seen Mina TWICE. And he ATTACKS Dracula. Unlike everyone else, he has no weapons or crucifix or anything. He attacks Dracula BAREHANDED, relying only on his hysterical strength to stop him feeding off Mina. Of course he gets hopelessly beat up. And then, despite his inherent dislike of Seward, he tells him and the others about Dracula and Mina - and pays the ultimate price when Dracula, having been confronted and chased away from Mina, takes out his anger on Renfield and smashes his face in.

But why does Renfield act the way he does? What got him into the asylum in the first place? Presumably, it's to do with the flies and spiders. After all, sane people normally don't collect flies in their room, feed them to spiders, feed the spiders to birds, etc. Yet the reasoning behind his madness is laid out when he talks to Mina about it. His theory, as he explains it, is that life can be indefinitely prolonged by the consumption of blood. Sound like anything familiar?

Renfield worships Dracula because Dracula is everything he wants to achieve. Renfield wants to be a vampire. He wants to find a way to prolong his life indefinitely in the same way Dracula has. He may not even know that much about vampires at all, but like a scientist, he experiments, and it is these experiments that brand him a lunatic.

But wait. If his goal is to become a vampire, and he attempts to attain it by sucking up to Dracula, why does he then attack him? Protecting Mina won't get him closer to immortality - in fact, it leads to his death. So how can this illogical action be explained?

My personal belief is that ultimately, Renfield wants to be accepted. He can't get acceptance from Seward or any of the other people at the asylum. We don't know much about his backstory (which, in my opinion, is criminal), but it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that his experiments with prolonging life were a method to prove himself and gain acceptance. Maybe he used to work with someone who died, or was trying to save people with terminal illnesses. Towards the beginning of the novel, he willingly volunteers as Dracula's slave in order to gain his acceptance and possibly attain the state of vampirism.

So when he talks to Mina and she addresses him as an equal, and treats him as an intelligent human being, she has already accepted him - possibly the first time he has experienced something like this. No, I don't ship it, but this is an important turning point for the character which sets up his redemption.

Renfield is mad, but he is also extremely intelligent. As I mentioned, he is the first to notice Mina's illness. He was clearly well-educated. Again, it is criminal that we didn't get more of his backstory.

And this is why I need a Dracula adaptation in which Renfield joins the monster-hunting gang and gets Dracula busted in half the time the rest of them took.

#renfield #dracula