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aspenmissing · 1 day ago

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Could you write the Arcane characters interacting with Reader's baby bump? (The male characters in a romantic way and the female characters in a platonic / best friends way)

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴜᴍᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4045 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ?

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱ��ᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ!! < 3 <3

JAYCE

Jayce was in his workshop, tinkering with his latest invention, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the warmth of the apartment. Y/N had been radiating this special glow ever since they'd found out she was expecting, and he couldn't help but marvel at how life had changed for them.

He paused his work, glancing toward the door, his face softening as he caught sight of Y/N entering. She walked in with a gentle sway, her baby bump clearly visible beneath her loose-fitting blouse. Jayce smiled, completely distracted by the sight of her.

"You know," he said, his voice a little distracted as he stood from his desk, "you’re glowing even more than usual today."

Y/N chuckled, placing a hand on her belly, a look of playful disbelief crossing her face. "I think you just say that because you’re always trying to get me to smile."

"Well," Jayce took a step closer, gently resting his hand on the curve of her bump, "it's hard not to smile when you're carrying our little one." His voice dropped softly, filled with awe as his fingers lightly traced over her stomach, feeling the little movements of the baby.

Y/N leaned into him, her head resting on his chest as she looked up at him with a smile. "I still can't believe it's happening. Feels like just yesterday I was getting used to being here, and now... we’re here, together, with a baby."

Jayce’s heart swelled as he pulled her into a tender embrace, his hand still resting gently over her bump. "It feels like a dream, doesn’t it?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But it’s our dream, and I couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone else."

Y/N laughed softly, the sound of it filling the room. "I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad it’s always been you."

Jayce held her tighter, savoring the moment. His mind raced with excitement for the future, for their little family that was already so loved. As he looked down at her, he whispered, "We’re going to be amazing parents, you know."

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair. "I know. And I’ll have you by my side through it all."

As Jayce gave her belly one more gentle rub, he couldn’t resist. "Do you think they’ll be as smart as their mom?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow playfully. "As smart? Oh, they’ll definitely have my brains... but they’ll also have your charm and wit, so it’s bound to be a good mix."

Jayce laughed, his hands still lingering on her stomach. "A perfect blend. I can't wait to meet them."

The two of them stood there for a moment, wrapped in the peace and joy of the life growing between them, knowing that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

VIKTOR

The dim light of Viktor's lab flickered softly as he worked on his latest project, the steady hum of machines in the background. Y/N sat nearby, her legs tucked under her as she rested on a plush chair. Her hand gently cradled her baby bump, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she observed Viktor. He had been focused on his work all day, but there was a soft tension in the air as his thoughts would occasionally wander to her.

He looked up from his workbench, meeting her gaze. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, his voice gentle and filled with concern.

Y/N nodded, but her smile grew wider when she saw the subtle way Viktor’s eyes lingered on her bump. She loved the way his face softened whenever he looked at her, especially now. The early months had been a whirlwind of uncertainty, but now, as the pregnancy progressed, Viktor had become a rock for her—steady, calm, and full of quiet affection.

"Are you sure you're not overworking yourself?" Y/N teased, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of her bump.

Viktor hesitated for a moment before walking over to her. His hands were warm as they cupped the sides of her stomach gently, his eyes studying her as if the simple act of touching her was an overwhelming thing. "I’m not overworking," he murmured, his voice low. "But… I do worry." He carefully placed his hand over her belly, letting his fingers rest softly against the growing life within.

Y/N chuckled softly. "I’m fine, Viktor. She’s fine, too," she added, feeling the baby shift slightly beneath her skin. She glanced down at his hand, which was resting on her bump, the moment tender and intimate.

Viktor’s expression softened, and for a brief second, his usually sharp and meticulous demeanor melted away. His eyes lit up with something indescribable, a mix of awe and tenderness as he gazed at the baby bump. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for any movement, like he was trying to connect to the tiny life growing inside her.

And then, it happened—a small, subtle kick. Viktor’s eyes widened, and a soft laugh escaped his lips. He placed his hand gently on the spot where the movement had come from, as if trying to reassure himself that it was real. "Did you feel that?" he whispered, his voice barely a breath, full of wonder.

Y/N nodded, her smile widening. "Yes, I did." She reached up to gently touch his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I think she’s excited to meet her papa."

Viktor’s face flushed slightly at the word. His hand remained on her belly, his thumb moving in slow, careful circles as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I will be ready when the time comes," he said, his voice a quiet promise. "I’ll be right here, every step of the way."

Y/N’s heart swelled with affection for him, knowing how deeply he meant every word. She leaned into him, closing her eyes and letting the moment envelop them both—together, as a family, anticipating the future they would share.

And as Viktor continued to tenderly touch her belly, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace, knowing that this tiny life would be surrounded by so much love.

JAYVIK

The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle warmth across the room. Y/N woke slowly, stretching out on the bed, her body cradled in the comfort of the soft sheets. Her eyes fluttered open to see Viktor beside her, his head resting gently on her shoulder, a peaceful expression on his face. His hand, warm and steady, lay across her belly—his touch so tender, it almost felt like he was holding the life within her in a protective embrace.

For a moment, Y/N simply gazed at him, the sensation of his presence calming and reassuring. She then shifted slightly, turning her head to glance at the space beside the bed. "Where's Jayce?" she murmured softly, her voice still thick with sleep, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment.

Viktor stirred slightly at her words, his eyes blinking open, his gaze warm but sleepy. "He's probably in the workshop or the kitchen... Where else would he be?" He smiled, but Y/N's eyes were already drawn back to the movement beneath the covers.

Curious, she lifted the edge of the blanket to peek under it. There, to her surprise, was Jayce, his face buried in the side of her baby bump, his large hand gently caressing it. He looked so serene, his eyes closed, and there was a quiet hum of contentment as his fingers traced slow, soft patterns along her skin.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight. The love and care the two of them showed, even in the smallest moments, made her heart swell. Viktor, now fully awake, chuckled softly as he saw the scene. "He's... always been a bit of a morning person," he said, his voice full of affection.

Y/N laughed softly, running a hand through Jayce's hair. "I think he just wanted to get as close to the baby as possible," she teased, her voice light.

Jayce, hearing her, lifted his head slightly, his face still pressed against her belly. His eyes glimmered with affection as he met her gaze. "Couldn't resist," he murmured with a grin, his hand never stopping its gentle motions on her belly.

Viktor leaned in, brushing his lips against Y/N's forehead, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "Looks like we have our own little family morning ritual."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of her love for both of them as they shared this intimate moment. The room felt filled with an almost magical peace—a quiet reminder that despite the chaos of the world outside, they had each other, and that was enough.

She placed a hand on Viktor's, the other resting on Jayce's head. "I love you both," she whispered softly, her heart full. The two men, in their own unique ways, both smiled, their love for her and the baby clear in their eyes.

"We love you, too," Viktor replied softly, and Jayce added, "More than anything."

As the three of them lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the outside world felt distant, and for that moment, they were content to simply be.

VANDER

It was a typical day in the undercity, the hustle and bustle of Zaun never stopping. But today, there was a special kind of excitement in the air, especially within the small, cozy living space above Vander’s tavern, The Last Drop.

Y/N, now a little further along in her pregnancy, was sitting comfortably in one of the worn-out chairs, her hand resting on her baby bump. She had been feeling the baby kicking for a while now, and every time it happened, she couldn’t help but smile.

Vander, who had been busy with some work around the bar downstairs, glanced over at her with a soft grin. "You look like you're getting ready to pop any day now," he teased lightly, his rough voice betraying the gentle affection he had for her. He leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a rag, his gaze soft as he looked at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m not that big, Vander," she said playfully.

Vander chuckled. "Right, sure." He then turned his attention to the door, hearing the familiar sounds of footsteps and laughter. The kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—had been coming around more often to check on her, always excited about the little one growing inside her.

Vi came barreling in first, the rough-and-tumble girl grinning from ear to ear. “I wanna feel the baby kick! Can I?”

Y/N laughed softly, patting her belly. "You can try."

Vi’s face lit up, and she gently placed her hands on Y/N’s bump, her eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa, I can feel it!" she exclaimed. "It’s so weird but cool!" Her expression softened, and she looked up at Y/N. “You’re gonna be such a good mom.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the sweet sentiment. She hadn’t had the chance to speak much about her plans for motherhood, but hearing Vi’s words made her feel like she was doing something right.

Powder, who had been standing at the door, looking a little shy, approached with her usual curiosity. "Me too! Can I feel?"

Vander, always protective of his "kids," knelt down to Powder’s level, a big hand on her shoulder. "It’s okay, kiddo," he said gently, giving Y/N an encouraging nod.

With a soft giggle, Powder tiptoed over and placed her small hands on Y/N’s baby bump. Her eyes widened when she felt the gentle shift. "It’s moving! I’m gonna be the best big sister ever," she announced, practically bouncing on her heels in excitement.

Mylo and Claggor entered together, following behind their friends. Mylo, always the mischievous one, grinned and raised an eyebrow at the scene. “Looks like you’re already starting a whole army, Y/N,” he teased, crossing his arms.

Claggor, quieter than the others, leaned against the wall, his usual stoic expression softened with a fond smile. “You’ll have a lot of help, that’s for sure,” he said, his voice calm but sincere.

Vander chuckled from his spot across the room, clearly enjoying the scene. He glanced over at Y/N, his expression soft. "You’ll have a whole crew to help you out," he said with a wink. "Just make sure the little one doesn’t end up causing as much trouble as Powder."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, her voice teasing. "You mean you didn’t cause trouble when you were younger?"

Vander chuckled, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Maybe a little, but I’ve learned my lesson. Now I just have to pass on that wisdom."

Vi and Powder giggled at the exchange, while Mylo and Claggor shared an amused look. Y/N leaned back in her chair, basking in the comfort of the moment. The excitement of her growing family surrounded her, and with Vander by her side, she knew everything would be alright.

The kids continued to gather around, asking more questions, offering more excitement, and making Y/N’s heart swell with love. She was going to be a mother, and with Vander, Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and all of them by her side, she knew her little one would be surrounded by so much love and protection.

"Think we’ll get a little troublemaker in the mix?" Vi asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/N grinned, her hand gently rubbing her belly. "With you two as role models? I’m sure of it."

Vander’s booming laughter filled the room, and for a moment, all felt right in the world.

And in that moment, surrounded by the kids she’d come to love as her own and Vander’s comforting presence above The Last Drop, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this new chapter in her life would be full of love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

SILCO

Silco sat at his desk in his dimly lit office, his gaze unwavering as he reviewed the latest plans for Zaun. The ever-present hum of machinery in the background almost seemed to blend into the silence.

Then, the door creaked open, and in stepped Y/N, her baby bump now noticeably prominent as she walked toward him. She smiled softly, her face lighting up with a warmth that seemed to make the cold, grim atmosphere of the room a little more bearable.

"You look like you're deep in thought," she said, her voice gentle.

Silco looked up from his papers, his steely eyes softening when they met hers. He had been through many things in his life—power struggles, betrayal, and the dark underworld of Zaun—but nothing quite compared to the feeling that swept over him whenever he saw her. And now, with the baby bump growing, it was as though something more fragile and precious was growing inside their world.

He pushed back from his desk and stood, a rare softness in his usually sharp features. "And what brings you here?" His voice had an edge, but there was a tenderness underneath it that he reserved only for her.

Y/N placed a hand on her belly and walked closer. "I just thought you might like to feel the baby," she said, her tone teasing. "You've been so focused on work lately, you haven't gotten a chance to see how much they’re growing."

A rare flicker of uncertainty passed through Silco’s eyes. He didn’t know much about babies or pregnancy, but there was a look of fondness in his gaze when he saw how protective and glowing Y/N looked.

She gently guided his hand to her stomach, and for a moment, Silco stood still, the warmth of her body and the tiny life growing inside her bringing an unfamiliar feeling to his chest. The baby kicked softly, a small flutter that made her smile wider.

"Feel that?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with excitement.

Silco’s fingers twitched slightly as he pressed his hand more firmly against her belly, feeling the subtle movements beneath his palm. His lips parted in a small, almost imperceptible smile, the rarest of expressions crossing his usually composed face.

"It’s... strange," he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "But it’s yours. Ours."

Y/N’s smile widened, a warm, loving look passing between them. She nodded, her hand over his as she gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yes, ours."

Silco’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he allowed himself to lean down slightly, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. "I never thought I’d be here," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Not like this."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes shining with affection. "Well, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed, a rare tenderness in his voice. He couldn’t help but run his fingers across her belly again, feeling the baby move once more, as if marking the beginning of a future he had never imagined.

For a moment, Silco allowed himself to savour the peace, even if it was fleeting in a world that would never be kind to them. But for now, the only thing that mattered was the life growing between them, the one thing that he could protect with everything he had.

JINX/POWDER

Jinx bounced around excitedly, her usual chaotic energy tempered by a rare, gentle excitement. Y/N was sitting on the couch, her hand resting over her growing belly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched the madness of Zaun unfold through the window.

Jinx skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, her eyes immediately locking onto her friend’s baby bump. Her grin spread wider than usual, but there was a tenderness in it now, a contrast to her usual manic grin.

"Y/N! Y/N! How’s my little niece or nephew doin’ in there?" Jinx asked, bouncing on her toes as she leaned in close, eyes wide with curiosity. She’d known about the pregnancy for a while now, but it never failed to get her excited whenever she saw Y/N with her baby bump.

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing down at her belly with a soft, protective smile. "They're doing well. Growing every day," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she gently rubbed the bump.

Jinx’s face shifted into one of mock seriousness, her hands immediately cupping the sides of Y/N’s bump as if she was inspecting something fragile. "Whoa, you’re getting huge!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and playful teasing. "This little one’s gonna be a big deal, huh? So important!"

She paused for a moment, eyes full of determination, before looking up at Y/N with a gaze that was almost protective. "I’m gonna be the best aunt ever! I’ll protect ‘em from all the bad stuff out there!" Jinx gestured dramatically to the world outside, her usual chaotic flair returning. "No one’s gonna mess with my little one! I’ll teach ‘em all the best stuff—like blowing stuff up!"

Y/N laughed, a warm, fond chuckle that filled the room. "You’re gonna be the best aunt, Jinx. The baby’s gonna love you."

Jinx’s grin grew wider, her chest puffing up proudly. "Of course! No one else could be as awesome as Aunt Jinx! I’ll make sure the little one has all the best toys—super explosive ones! And we’ll make a fort out of all the stuff I’ve blown up! It’ll be perfect!"

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for her unpredictable friend. She knew Jinx had a complicated past, but it was moments like these that showed just how much Jinx cared—and how deeply she was capable of loving in her own wild way.

"You’ll definitely be the best aunt," Y/N agreed, rubbing her belly gently. "But for now, maybe start thinking about ways to entertain the baby when they’re older—something a little less... explosive than your usual brand of fun."

Jinx’s expression turned contemplative as she tilted her head, clearly thinking hard about that suggestion. After a moment, her eyes lit up. "Okay! I’ll tell the baby the best stories. And maybe… just maybe... I’ll make ‘em a secret stash of cookies... and dynamite. Secretly! You know, just in case they need some excitement in their life."

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head fondly. "You’re something else, Jinx. But I think that’s what makes you the best aunt."

Jinx giggled, then without warning, sat down next to Y/N and wrapped her arms around her in a surprisingly gentle hug. "You’ll be the best mom, Y/N. No one’s gonna mess with us. Right? We’re a team."

Y/N returned the hug, a swell of gratitude filling her chest for the unexpected, yet deeply loyal friendship they shared. "We’re a team, Jinx. Always."

And in that moment, surrounded by Jinx’s protectiveness and boundless enthusiasm, Y/N felt a sense of peace, knowing her baby would grow up surrounded by love—no matter how unpredictable the world around them might be.

MEL

Mel had always been the type to care deeply for others, especially those she considered family. Y/N was no different, and seeing her friend in this new light—carrying a child—brought a softness to her heart that she hadn’t expected.

She gently knocked on Y/N’s door, her voice light as she called through, “Y/N, are you awake?”

A muffled response came from inside. “Yeah, just a little tired today.”

Mel smiled, pushing the door open and peeking in to see her friend, who was sitting propped up in bed, a soft blanket tucked around her. Y/N’s baby bump was noticeably round now, a comforting sight after everything she’d been through.

“Need any help getting up?” Mel asked with a slight tilt of her head, her voice soft and warm. She was always so careful around Y/N, ever since the pregnancy had started to show.

Y/N gave her a small, grateful smile. “I can manage, but if you want to help me to the couch, I’d appreciate it.”

Mel immediately moved over, holding out her hands to help steady Y/N as she slowly rose to her feet. “Slow and steady, okay?” she said, guiding her gently to the living room.

Once they were settled, Mel made sure Y/N was comfortable before sitting beside her. She could never shake the worry that Y/N wasn’t eating enough, despite her insistence. “Did you eat today?” she asked, her voice a mix of concern and love.

Y/N sighed but nodded. “I did, just a little light lunch. But I’ll have something more later.”

Mel pursed her lips, her eyes scanning her friend's face, searching for any hint that Y/N might be pushing herself too hard. “You’ve got to take care of yourself, Y/N. The baby needs you to eat, too.” She gently placed a hand on the bump, a soft smile forming as she added, “They’re gonna need their energy to grow big and strong.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, looking down at her belly. “I’m doing my best. But you’re right. Maybe I could eat a little more.”

Mel’s smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I’ll make you something. You rest, and I’ll take care of it.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned back against the cushions. “You’re too good to me, Mel.”

Mel shook her head, her expression warm. “I’m just looking out for you. You’re my family, and that means everything to me.”

As Mel made her way to the kitchen, Y/N watched her, a sense of deep gratitude settling in her chest. Despite everything that had happened, she was surrounded by people who cared for her and the life she was carrying, and that was something worth cherishing.

When Mel returned with a plate of food, she smiled as she set it down in front of Y/N. “I made sure it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

Y/N looked down at the plate and smiled softly, her eyes glistening with appreciation. “You really know how to take care of me.”

Mel sat beside her once again, offering a light hug. “It’s just what I do for family.”

The two of them sat together in the quiet comfort of each other’s company, the bond between them growing even stronger with every passing day.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader #Mel x platonic!Reader #Pregnant!Reader

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revvethasmythh · 2 days ago

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You know, Veth often advocates for acts of retributive justice and she's a strong believer in vengeance as a concept. This comes up a few times during the campaign, and I think it's one of the most interesting things about her and she has a line in Episode 20 on this topic that is genuinely perhaps the most fascinating thing she says in the whole campaign (which I don't say lightly). It's a conversation between her and Caleb about his past, which she only just learned about two episodes ago. She assumes outright that what Caleb must want is to go get revenge on Trent for what was done to him, and says that of course they can go do that before dealing with any of her issues, then hits him with this: "The thing is, your story that you poured out to me and Beau, the other day-- it was very sad, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through it, but I have to say, in a way, I'm a little bit jealous. [...] All I'm saying is, I feel like you can get revenge. You can maybe even get redemption for what you've done, and you can become a better person. You can do good to counteract the bad that you've done in your past, and maybe someday there will be an end to your suffering." (Emphasis by me). That connection here between "I'm a little bit jealous," "I feel like you can get revenge," and "maybe someday there will be an end to your suffering" is not lost on me. At this time in the campaign, the idea of getting turned back into a halfling is something relegated so far into the future she can barely see it (and we know Sam was more than willing for it to never happen at all). Just one episode earlier, she was asked to give some backstory about herself and lied out her ass so she didn't have to cop to what had happened to her. She wasn't ready to trust anyone with it or ask explicitly for the help to get turned back. As far as she is concerned in the moment, there may never be an end to her suffering in this form. So she's jealous of Caleb, because he can get revenge and someday maybe his suffering will end.

On the topic of vengeance itself, I think it makes a lot of sense that Veth would be vengeful because she is impotent to achieve it in her own life. What is she going to do, go home to Felderwin and get vengeance on her brothers for what they all did to her? The town for how it treated her? No, she can't do that. She never gets to come face-to-face with the goblins that kidnapped her family, had her killed, then enslaved her during the campaign or after. As utterly fantastic as the blueberry cupcake moment is, she didn't even get to kill Isharnai, the hag who actually, physically held her under until she drowned. Veth has never gotten to achieve personal vengeance, or even really had the opportunity to face the concept of it as it pertains to the injustices perpetrated against her in her life. Like, she is, for sure, a highly reactive individual who jumps to wanton killing often just based on her extreme personality, but there is some real meat to the fact that she can get so fixated on revenge. I think she really wants it for herself, and she can't imagine that other people wouldn't also want it for themselves. She has never gotten it, so she always suggests it. She's jealous of Caleb because he can get revenge on one, simple target that will represent his trauma (even if it's not actually that simple for him), and that's something she can't do. And she never gets to even try. I'd be all hornt up over the concept of violent revenge if I was her, too.

#this was all an elaborate way for me to pitch her and caleb killing ludinus yet again thank you and goodnight #LET HER KILL SOMEONE IN VIOLENT REVENGE 2k25 #veth and vengeance.....vengeance and veth my beloveds......#veth brenatto #the mighty nein #this wasn't even inspired by my rewatch legit i just remembered that she loves revenge so much and i was like. hm. i can write about that #cr tag

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sl-walker · 2 days ago

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Help a starving artist

Or, at least, one who is trying quite hard not to.

As people relatively close to me know, I lost my job last July. It was a shitty situation all around, but I survived on savings and unemployment. But frankly, having been a toilet scrubber for most of my life, I never had a huge amount of savings and now unemployment has run out; did last month, in fact. I've sent out well over a thousand applications. I've rejiggered my resume, asked people for letters of recommendation, wrote too many cover letters, etc. I was hired for a job in early January and did my drug test two weeks ago, but I still haven't heard back from that employer, so I'm now staring down the barrel of ah, as if I somehow forgot what terror and poverty felt like again. Delightful. 0/10, would not recommend, though honestly, a lot of people I know already know the feeling.

What can you do?

You can subscribe to my Substack as a paid subscriber. Not only do you get my hopefully entertaining writing in your inbox -- which is free to everyone anyway -- you also get to request things if you're a paid subscriber. If it's monthly, every three months you can request a sketch or a specific comic review or even a fanfic review for yourself or someone else (within reason, like under 10K words). If it's as a founding member, you can request something every single month in the same vein. (Believe me, you're getting a bargain on those requests.)

You can commission me for art. I'm a decent artist. My rate is $25 an hour and I am not swift at it, but I am pretty damn okay and certainly cheaper than a professional artist. To give you a rough idea, that half-body pic I did of Guy was about ten hours, where the one I did of Ted was more like 15. A really good portrait sketch is probably about an hour. The more detailed, the more time.

I might be talked into writing commissions, depending on the writing. You can absolutely talk to me about hiring me if you want me to write your cover letters, because it's a hateful task, but I'm not too bad at it.

I can design letterheads like a boss. I was a printer for over sixteen years.

If you just want to throw money at me, I mean-- who turns that down? (Though I tend to prefer to do something for it, which is probably more evidence than anyone actually needs for what kind of childhood I had. HA!) But my paypal is:

paypal.me/steelandfic

Current utility bills under the cut. Like-- that's not counting groceries, pet food, the roof over my head, the filling in my tooth that I'm waiting for the bill for or anything else. That's just utilities.

And if you can't do anything else, please consider signal-boosting? Thanks.

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dalishbarmitzvah · 2 days ago

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(moving right on past the obvious and very bleak "lots of people will flat out never be persuaded to care about jews and the best you can hope for is that they are not actively happy about jewish suffering"...)

to sum up what follows (mostly, honestly, me wandering through my own work to understand), tldr:

people genuinely do not know. they do not seek out our stories, are not given them by sources they , being truly informed about current events is very complicated, and most people have poor critical reading skills, have not learned how to consume varied sources, and do not know how to synthesise from varied sources before coming to conclusions or forming strong opinions, nor do they feel that is a requirement

the 24 hour news cycle, digital news outlets, and social media have created a media news climate in which people are more likely to believe they know things than they are to actually be informed on things, and is more likely to both create and maintain echo chambers (now filled with people who believe that it would be impossible for them to be in an echo chamber)

goys are generally not incentivized to do the work to seek out or stay up to date on things involving jews, israel, or antisemitism, and are less likely to encounter them, less likely to engage with them deeply or deliberately or often, and are less likely to be able to recognize propaganda, falsehoods, stereotypes, and fearmongering present in any reporting they do encounter.

centrist news outlets are doing the world a major disservice by being largely silent about jewish issues or israel beyond the most bombastic headlines, and neither right-wing nor leftist outlets are picking up the slack in any honest way, as both peddle very narrow, very biased perspectives when and if they bother sharing them at all.

in regard to mainstream journalism at large: they are failing to do their actual jobs (thourough, nuanced, non-biased news coverage) largely because of the broken way that people get their news (see #2) and the ways in which that has deincentivized journalism from coverage of anything less likely to get clicks and views. people don't click on stuff they think is too confusing, not relevant to their lives, too boring, etc. 24 hour news becoming the norm means doing away with the kind of informed person who would read their daily or weekly paper(s) cover to cover (or at least all the actual news parts). that same person, faced with an endless barrage of articles to click on, can never finish reading, and is, therefore, less likely to start reading things that challenge them or their perspective than they might have been if they had encountered them in print. for the increasingly rare news-reading goy, this means less clicks on articles related to jewish or israeli issues, which in turn means that the sites they're clicking on are less likely to pay anyone to write those articles

many people get their news almost exclusively from their social media feeds, which are curated to show them more of what they've already engaged with, and less of anything else. video content condensing articles skimmed from sources trouble by everything i already mentioned is in no way a balanced news diet, but for a lot of people, that is all they get - alongside a chillingly common pressure to form and hold strong stances on basically every single issue you can possibly imagine, with negative social consequences for admitting you don't know or don't have an opinion on something.

in this context: people facing a constant barrage of overexposure to news and perspectives from all over the world are lead to believe that everything that is happening is something they're aware of, and, as a logical inverse, that if they haven't seen anything about something, that it may as well not exist, not be happening, and not be real. (again, see #2).

compassion fatigue. just like we can't know about everything, we also cannot care about everything. and, let's face it: not caring about jews comes very naturally to most goys. this is the part where i say that i understand your outrage, but on a very real, practical level, you must understand that we are a minority many people know next to nothing about (though they often think they know about us, which is another problem), and that goyim who do not share their lives or communities directly with jews who remind them of their jewishness fairly regularly are unlikely to be very aware of us or what we're facing.

so this is the one thing you can do something about: you can be unavoidably jewish in the lives of non-jews, and it will remind them that jews exist, that we are real and complex beings who are worthy of attention and love. you can discuss these issues, publicly or personally, and it will prompt them to learn more, and to see more in places they may not have seen it before otherwise. you can remain steadfast and informed, and you can share what you know, believe, and feel, with people who would otherwise never have a glimpse of it. you can succeed where major news outlets are failing: you can be the reason why at least a few people do know and do care. it will take patience, it will take work. it will not be easy, or painless, or short... but it will also not be thankless. be jewish. live jewishly. share your jewish perspective with people you are in community with. show them that you have it to offer, and encourage them to seek it. this, too, is tikkun olam.

aaand under the cut is the Long, Somewhat Meandering Version that i came back around and synthesized down into that still-too-long-still-didn't-read up there. in other words, that up there is the Post, and what follows is rough draft. it's worth keeping there enough for me, for my own notes, but it's a lot of words and they're not all in the best order, so.

OK. SO.

first off, it would probably help if sources that aren't israeli or jewish reported any of it. it's become very obvious to me that very few people, for reasons both more and less valid, trust israeli news sources, or seek them out. even people who read multiple american newspapers to get perspective on issues don't bother with reading outlets that are actually involved in events discussed directly. maybe if some more western journos would sprout some fucking integrity for once and source back or platform voices on the ground there, it would help a bit.

i mean, sure, plenty of people will never give a shit, either because they've got deep-seated antisemitic tendencies, or because they're just blindly apolitical (or, charitably, some perhaps because they're focused on their direct communities. i know some people really are that way, and honestly good for them). but i think, perhaps because jews are culturally raised to be critical readers who are deeply informed about the world around them, and trained from a very young age to see patterns and connections in things, that it doesn't occur to us that a lot of people are just profoundly not like that. as a result, it's easy to see antisemitism in places where it's actually genuine ignorance - and a lot of that is very difficult to combat.

it takes real, significant effort to seek out varied sources for your news, and it takes real, significant effort - not to mention learned, practiced skill! - to sift out a more holistic image of the truth by reading between the lines and seeing what is reported where and by whom and in what ways... and also what isn't. and what i keep seeing in my own critical news reading (which is far from fully comprehensive!) is that you have to go pretty far from the sources most people are most familiar with to see beyond a few very curated images of what's happening in israel, what's going on with the hostages, what's going on globally or domestically in america or in various places in europe with jews there, etc. we see the jewish story all the time, because we live it, and we look for it, and we know how to.

but the reality is that the average goy doesn't even know enough about jews, or israel, to know that not all jews are israeli or zionist, not all zionists believe the same things, not all israelis support everything the israeli government is doing all the time, and not all israelis are jewish. they frankly barely know what jews are, except that they are Other. so how could they possibly know enough to see patterns rippling throughout the entire world beyond in varied and nuanced and horrifying ways. they will never, ever see the patterns we see. they have not been trained to do so, and they are, by and large, not going to take the genuinely immense time and effort it takes to get to that point.

so, maybe they don't know because they

people only see what they see in the sources they do see (obviously) - and those sources are very, very narrow in what they report on. the only western sources that are talking about it are far right or so-"left"-we're-accidentally-reinventing-fascism-here-too type sources, and they paint the issue in the strokes that aids their preexisting perspective (which is never truly a human one for jews, nor for israelis). most people aren't going to be picking up the jerusalem post anytime soon, but they might read the new york times or the washington post or a local paper (or, more likely, watch cnn or msnbc. or fox. or whatever.). so they're only getting what those outlets report on - and they just really don't report much on the human details of things like this. so that's one thing that could be done - centrist sources could report more, could print journalism that's closer to the source more often. but people might skip those articles. i've read studies that indicate that's exactly what people do - that digital newspapers specifcally make it so much easier for people to simply never encounter or engage with stuff outside their bubble, because you choose what to click on, and you choose when to stop, and so few people read "the whole paper" anymore (or even could, considering how many things are just published scattershot, random articles dropping all throughout the day!) so it would help some if that reporting was better, but honestly, with the kind of shape that news media is in right now... that's far from straightforward.

but of course, that's only applicable to people who even consume primary news sources to begin with... and increasingly, i encounter more and more people who are willing to freely admit that they have opinions and thoughts and believe they know things about stuff they haven't even done the basic research or reading on. and frankly, i don't know how we deal with that! the news-opinions zeitgeist we're in right now is frankly weird as fuck: people are less educated, from less diverse sources, on average, while also feeling pressure to have strong opinions and thoughts that they cannot (and should not) possibly form on their own. the way so, so many people consume news increasingly from algorithmic social media streams has done immense damage - people intrinsically believe that shit they saw on tiktok is Reporting (there have been studies showing that people tend to view news/opinions coming from people they percieve as familiar to them as being more likely to be truthful, and that that translates to, y'know... people in your phone who absolutely you do not know in real life and should not be trusting that way!). carrying on from that: if they DON'T see something "reported on" within in their circle/on their feed, then that means it's not happening. not even just that they don't know about it, but literally that it's not real. because we all know everything about everything. all the time. it's right there. the algorithm feeds it to us constantly. people think that if something was happening, surely someone would have mentioned it to them by now. i don't think people are mostly aware of this, at all, either... and that makes it all the more insidious.

used to be, people knew that there was plenty they didn't know about, because they knew how hard it was to learn about things that happened far away.... but now, with anyone in the world* being able to hop on their smart phone and say 'hey i'm from the other side of the planet and here's what's happening here*' (*at least, allegedly)? i think people genuinely don't consider that things might be happening that they haven't heard about. we hear about everything, all the time. 24 hour news cycle. digital newspapers. tiktok influencers sharing bite-sized news stories distilled from articles you haven't read to know if they actually read them either, from sources you're not familiar enough with to discern how much trust to put in them. videos of people in the worst parts of war zones staring directly at you and begging you for help you cannot possibly give them. but most people don't see images of released hostages. they don't see headlines from israeli journalists - not the deep propaganda, and not the honest ones. they don't see images of israeli activists or protestors who are fighting alongside and for their palestinian neighbours. if they see anyone on the ground in the area at all, they see desperate begging, and they see hamas propaganda - and it never occurs to them that parts of this story are missing... because we all see everything all the time. if it were happening, if it were real, then we would know. surely, we would have seen it already.

it makes it all the more funny when you hear people spout off about how jews are controlling the media or israel is controlling america or whatever nonsense... like surely, if any of us, the israeli state included, actually were controlling any of that, they would make it a little bit harder for people to avoid ever knowing anything firsthand about any of it.

so what can we do?

we can help them see us, hear us, know us, and love us. not everyone, not the ones who refuse, not the ones who hate us and won't budge. but we can be present in our communities and visible to our colleages and friends.

people are not going to notice and not going to care about things they have no reason to notice or care about. they're not going to form a nuanced perspective on israeli politics or modern pogroms or whether or not ben shapiro has ever heard of pikuach nefesh or not. they're not going to understand what jews are and aren't, what we can be, what we have been, what's happening to us. they're not going to see news that isn't being reported where they get their news... unless they see YOU.

it can be maddening, to have such a tiny little impact, but also incredibly gratifying. i am one of the only visible jews in the small town where i live, and i am very visible, and i never, ever shut the fuck up about it. people who know me at all know that i am jewish, and by talking to me, i can help them understand, and learn, and pay attention, and be vigilant on our behalf. i have seen it work. i have heard people tell me that they started noticing antisemitism in news sources they used to read - and that they stopped trusting them because of it. i have had people ask me for where to look for more information on issues they had heard only whispers about and didn't trust their ability to google on their own (which i really, really appreciate). i have had people tell me how grateful they are to know me and to learn from me. without me, they would likely have either never been prompted to have those thoughts, or they would have never pursued them very far, because they would have lacked a trusted sounding board. i know, for a fact, that people on (mostly) all sides of the political spectrum around me have come closer to seeing jews, and to seeing jews as human, because of me.

i have helped leftists gain perspective on israel, showed them how to see through propaganda (israeli, hamas, and evangelical), how to notice antisemitic slogans and rhetoric, taught them about the realities of israeli mandatory service, shared about my mom's experience living on a kibbutz, taught them some of the history of zionism and of the state of israel. because of me, people i know are telling people i don't know that "from the river to the sea" derives from a sentiment of violent antisemitism, and because of me, people i know are aware that israeli activists and objectors who share their concerns about the israeli government exist and fight alongside their palestinian neighbours to make their country a better place, and they know that palestinians generally do not support hamas. and i have helped people more to the center and right learn more about all of that and more. i have taught people what judaism is, what it is to me, and what it is to people who are very different to me. i've taught them how someone can be secular, atheist, and still very much jewish. i've taught them about where those guys in funny hats fit into the continuum between the ba'al shem tov and me, how we are alike and how we are different - how we have been forced to change in different ways, to adapt. i've taught them about the history of zionist movements, about jewish anarchists and socialists, about pogroms, about talmud, about tu b'shvat. people who believed, before me, that eretz yisrael was an empty wasteland before the first zionist settlers arrived to bring it to life, and people who believed that it was a thriving arab community that faced a military invasion before the state of israel was established, both have a bit more perspective on a very complicated history, because of me. because i exist, because i will not touch money on shabbos, because i will not shut my mouth, because i wear my beard and my payos and i cover my head, because i am not ashamed of who i am, because i have taken the time to be educated and to unapologetically assist in the education of others, people in my small town in the pacific northwest know about israel as a real place, and jews as a real people - whether or not we live there, and in all our many, many complex and nuanced perspectives on it.

i don't mean to tokenize yourself or reduce yourself to being a public service. but i do mean to push back when you hear someone discussing an even they've clearly only heard on very limited perspective on. i do mean that people who know they have at least one jewish friend (or acquaintance/community member/coworker/whatever) are more likely to notice, more likely to think critically, when things involving jews, or involving israel, are brought up. and to be clear: if you do this, you have to get really good at not telling people they're wrong or stupid, because people will shut down if you do that. you have to learn how to show people that their perspective is lacking without just telling them that they're ignorant. no one wants to listen to someone who's just telling them that they're a dumber, worse version of themselves than they realised. get really comfortable with asking people where they learned something or what they've been taught in the past, and then with how to break down and reconstruct from there, if necessary. honestly, once people feel safe to not know things around you, it gets much easier for you both to simply fill in the gaps.

and i guess, what i mean is that every single day that a goy learns what tikkun olam is and what it means to jews, that that does a very real bit of the work of tikkun olam, because you have helped create a goy who knows something about jews, and what they know now is that our culture teaches us that the world is beautiful and it is broken and it is our sacred duty to help mend it.

so, to answer your question: that's what it takes. it takes remembering that the world is made up of so many little pieces, so many souls, so many fractured little shards that were once contained within spheres that once emanated from the same great oneness - and it takes reminding other individual little shards that they are also a part of the same thing as you, that you come from the same place they do... and that your paths to and from that great oneness are different, and none of them less beautiful than any other.

you can try and fail forever to mend the whole world in one day, and never make any real progress, and it will crush your soul into an even finer powder as you do.

there will always be some people do not care about us because they hate us, or at least, they believe that they do because they have been taught to, but i do not believe they will ever be the majority. most goyim do not care so much about us, simply because they haven't realised that they could love us, because they haven't gotten to know us, because they don't even know how much they would like to. if we are going to reach those goyim before the hateful ones do, we just have to keep at it.

and so long as we do not, in fact, control the media, i'd say we have a lot more chance of changing things, changing how and if people see us, by simply refusing to get out of their line of sight. it is much, much easier to hate or to hurt someone you can't see and don't know. stay where they can see us. become a welcome sight. teach them how to see what we see. the world is not illuminated by guarding of the flame, but rather by the kindling of others from it.

be light. share light. don't ever buy into the isolating darkness and its insistence that we are alone in a silent and unfeeling world, because we are not, and that only benefits those who would seek to destroy us. we are not alone, and we do not have to be alone. the universe is not doomed to a shattered eternity.

(and as for your grief and your anger? direct that at the people who benefit from all of us little people remaining ignorant of each other, remaining divided. goodness knows, there are certainly plenty of them. and i, for my own little part, do not intend to give them the satisfaction.)

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

#genuinely i am sorry if this is a total hijacking. right post right time to get me Thinking and Feeling. anyway.#i understand your post was probably just venting and i do not intend to take that from you in any way

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iamquiantrelle · 2 days ago

Text

OFFSIDES (chapter 1) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨) # wc: 8.16k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: nazanin "naz" williams and real madrid star aurélien tchouaméni's casual relationship takes an unexpected turn. after he temporarily ghosts her, leading to leaked photos and public drama, they must face their feelings for each other and try to make their 'situationship' into something concrete. masterlist

Naz stared at her phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. Still nothing from Aurélien. Not even those stupid little notification bubbles that showed he'd at least seen her messages.

"Girl, this is not okay," Destiny said, sprawled across Naz's bed. "I don't care if he's Aurélien Tchouaméni or the king of Spain – you can't just ghost someone like that."

"He's not ghosting me," Naz muttered, but even she didn't believe it anymore. "He's probably just busy with-"

"With what? Call Cama."

"I'm not calling Eduardo."

"Yes, you are." Destiny was already grabbing Naz's phone. "If anyone knows what's up with your man, it's his bestie."

Before Naz could stop her, Destiny had Eduardo Camavinga on speaker. His voice filled the room, bright as always: "Ayyyy what's up?"

"Where's your boy at?" Destiny demanded.

"Who, Aurélien? He was supposed to come chill with me and my brothers today but canceled last minute. Why, what's up?"

Naz's stomach dropped. So he wasn't too busy for his phone. He just wasn't answering her.

"What's up is he's being weird," Destiny said. "Not answering calls, leaving messages on read-"

"Look," Cama's voice got serious, which was weird because Naz had never heard him anything but hyper. "It's been rough, yeah? The whistles at the Bernabéu, then that talk on Instagram... maybe he just needs space?"

"He can't have space right now!" Destiny practically yelled.

"Why not?" Now Cama sounded curious. "What's so urgent that-"

Naz grabbed the phone before Destiny could say more. "Cama, just... tell him to call me? Please?"

Something in her voice must've gotten through because all the playfulness dropped from his tone. "Okay. Yeah, I got you."

After they hung up, Naz's mind drifted to last weekend. She'd been in his box at the Bernabéu, watching him play against Espanyol. Before the match, he'd given her this gorgeous gold charm bracelet – a football charm, an 'A' pendant, little shoes (because she was always teasing him about his sneaker collection), and a graduation cap because she'd just finished her master's.

"So you don't forget about me when you're conquering the world," he'd said, fastening it around her wrist.

Like she could ever forget him.

It was crazy how it all started, really. Destiny had been hanging with Cama and his crew at some fancy club in Madrid, and she'd dragged Naz along. Naz remembered being nervous – she might've grown up following football because of her dad's obsession with the sport, but actually being around the players was different.

She'd known exactly who Aurélien was when she first saw him. Had watched enough of his games, read enough articles. Knew about his move from Monaco, the pressure of that price tag, how he'd proved everyone wrong. The way he moved on the pitch like he owned it, all graceful power and perfect positioning.

She also knew the game. Pretty girls and footballers – it was like this dance everyone knew the steps to but no one talked about. So yeah, maybe she made sure to be at the right parties, wear the right things, catch his eye.

But Aurélien had been... different. Even with everything undefined between them, even with no labels or promises, he was sweet. Attentive. Would send her good morning texts with stupid football memes. Would call just to hear about her day. Would show up at her apartment with takeout when she was stressed about her thesis.

Which was why this silence felt so wrong.

Her phone buzzed and her heart jumped – but it was just another worried text from her other friend Gia: girl what are you gonna do???

Naz stared at her reflection in the phone screen, at the gold bracelet catching the light on her wrist.

What was she going to do? Because this secret... it couldn't wait much longer.

She typed out one more message to Aurélien: We need to talk. Please.

Then she waited, watching those three dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, until finally, they stopped altogether.

And that's when she knew something had to give.

"This isn't like him," Naz mumbled, pacing her bedroom. "You don't understand, Des. I literally spent almost every weekend at his place in Madrid. Flying in from London after work on Fridays, staying until Sunday night. His dog Ocho even has his own bed in my apartment for when they visit."

"Girl-"

"I met his uncle, Des. His uncle. You know how private Aurélien is about family."

Destiny watched her from the bed, concern mixing with something harder in her expression. "Naz, breathe. Your anxiety is-"

"No, you don't get it." Naz twisted the gold bracelet on her wrist. "During the Euros? I was there every day. When France didn't make it to finals, he was... God, he was so wrecked. And I just held him, you know? Let him be upset without trying to fix it."

"Yeah, and that's sweet and all, but-" Destiny sat up straighter, her expression shifting. "Maybe he's giving that same comfort to someone else right now."

Naz froze. "What?"

"You know what I mean." Destiny's voice went gentle but firm. "Quality time. The horizontal kind."

"No." Naz shook her head. "Aurélien isn't like that-"

"Girl, get a fucking grip!" Destiny's braids swung as she threw up her hands. "He's a fine-ass footballer playing for Real Madrid. One of the biggest clubs in La Liga. He's drowning in pussy. He doesn't care about you or that-"

Naz's phone lit up, Aurélien's name flashing across the screen. Her heart jumped until she read the message: what's up why are you hitting up cama?

The tone was all wrong. Cold. Accusatory. Like she'd violated some unspoken rule by reaching out to his friend.

Before she could respond, Destiny snatched the phone. "I'll respond," she said, pushing her braids over her shoulder. "This nigga got you acting funny and I don't like it. You're not playing the game right, Naz."

Right. The game. The jersey chasing game that Naz was never fully invested in, not like Destiny who had WAG dreams and vision boards. For Naz, it had started as an escape from thesis stress that just happened to come with designer perks. Yeah, maybe at first she'd thought about the lavish vacations and gifts, but then...

Then she'd actually gotten to know him. Seen how he'd light up talking about tactics, how he'd spend hours playing with Ocho, how he'd call her at 3 AM just to hear her voice after a tough match.

Destiny handed the phone back, and Naz's eyes went wide at the paragraph her friend had sent: accusations of him being ain't shit, demands about why he'd been ignoring the SOS signals, a whole essay of confrontation.

Those three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Naz's stomach twisted – she knew exactly what was happening in his head. Aurélien hated confrontation. His whole vibe was chill, level-headed, always taking the higher ground. He'd rather walk away than—

Aurélien: fine Naz. Whatever you say. I thought if anyone knew what I was going through would be you right? Guess not. Guess that psychology degree seems worthless. Sorry I ignored you - had a rough few days and needed time to cool off and see that therapist you wanted me to get so badly. My communication sucked but you know I always get back to you. Well I thought you did. ✌🏾

That peace emoji. Naz's heart dropped. She knew what that meant – bye, adios, I'm done. Aurélien Tchouaméni had officially clocked the fuck out.

"No no no," she frantically typed back, but the messages wouldn't deliver. Called, but got that automated voice: "Sorry, the number you dialed cannot be reached at this moment. Please hang up and try again."

She tried again. And again. And again.

Because that was another thing about Aurélien – sweet as candy, yes, but also petty as all hell when pushed too far.

He'd blocked her.

She stared at Destiny, horror dawning. "What the fuck was that, Des?"

The bracelet felt heavy on her wrist now, each charm a reminder of everything she might have just lost. And the secret she still hadn't told him? The real reason she'd been so desperate to reach him?

It sat like lead in her stomach, growing heavier by the second.

"He blocked you? Wow, what a dead beat ass-"

"Des, shut up!" Naz screamed, making Destiny's eyes widen in shock. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "This isn't what I wanted, what I needed, what the... what the baby I'm carrying needs."

Des let out a dry chuckle. "What do you even mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. "You can milk this, bleed him fucking dry. Do you know how many gossip blogs would kill to have this info? Like you can be set-"

"Des, I don't give a fuck about that, not right now." Naz's voice cracked. "I just found out I'm pregnant and my child's father just blocked me. What's not clicking?"

"No one told you to be out here fucking him without a condom anyways." Des rolled her eyes. "I mean who rawdogs an athlete unless that was your angle all along..." Her voice trailed off as she literally pondered for a second. "Hmm maybe I should have Vini knock me up?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Naz screeched and threw a throw pillow at her.

"Bitch, that hurt," Des said as the pillow hit her face.

"I don't care, Des. You're out here plotting about trapping Vini instead of worrying about your friend. You know how fucked up that sounds?"

Des rolled her eyes again, adjusting her clothes as she stood up from Naz's bed. "Girl whatever, I was trying to help you out, remember? You wanted all the nice pretty things and I told you these men don't care about us and your dumb ass got pregnant. Not my fault." She smoothed down her shirt. "Now you have two choices: abort that baby or have it be your golden egg. And as your friend, I'm gonna do what's best for you."

"Des, don't do anything stupid. You know how Aurélien-"

"I don't give a fuck. You're out of options, Nazanin." Des's voice turned hard. "You're not having any luck finding a new job and how will you support a baby?"

The words hit like bullets because Des had a point. Her current job barely covered her bills, and sure, she could treat herself occasionally when Aurélien wasn't spoiling her, but a baby? In her two-bedroom apartment with a roommate who hardly ever leaves?

But abortion...

"I can't do that," Naz said, sinking into her office chair. A tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head. The stress was already too much – she could feel it in her bones, in the constant nausea she'd been fighting all week. "I can't do that without letting him know about it first."

"Well too late for that 'cuz you got blocked," Des said, her words cutting deeper than she probably meant them to.

Naz pressed her hand against her still-flat stomach. Just this morning, she'd walked into that clinic thinking about getting an implant because clearly, she and Aurélien needed to be more careful. Instead, she'd walked out with news that changed everything – six weeks pregnant. Six weeks of a life they'd created together, probably during one of those weekend visits where they'd gotten careless, too caught up in each other to think about consequences.

She thought about Aurélien, how attentive he was with everything else in their undefined relationship. How he'd notice if she was tired or stressed, would remember her favorite foods, would call just to make sure she got home safe after late flights. He deserved to know about this baby. He was equally responsible for this life they'd created, even if right now he was being petty and blocking her because of Des's stupid text.

"He needs to know," Naz said finally, wiping her eyes. "I don't care about money or support or any of that shit you're thinking about, Des. But he deserves to know he's going to be a father before we make any decisions."

"And how exactly are you planning to tell him when he's blocked your number?" Des demanded. "Gonna show up at training? Send a carrier pigeon? Call Cama again?"

The reality of the situation hit Naz full force. Here she was, six weeks pregnant, blocked by the father of her child, and her best friend was more concerned about how to manipulate the situation than actually helping.

Actions meet consequences indeed.

A week of silence felt like forever. Not just from Aurélien, but from everyone – Cama stopped answering, even Jude ghosted her. Funny how quick football friends disappeared when you weren't in the inner circle anymore.

Now here she was, sitting in a clinic exam room, trying not to throw up for the third time today. Earlier, in the waiting room, a heavily pregnant woman had smiled at her, offered advice about ginger tea for morning sickness. Naz had managed a weak "thanks" before the nurse called her back.

The exam table paper crinkled under her as she thought about how spectacularly everything had blown up. Des had taken matters into her own hands, sending those pictures to the gossip blogs – Naz at Aurélien's matches, in his private box, wearing his gifts. She'd thought maybe it would get his attention.

Instead, all she got was internet hate. Thirsty. Clout chaser. Another jersey hunter. People digging into her past, trying to find dirt. And still nothing from Aurélien.

"Have you considered termination?" The nurse asked gently.

Naz turned to stare at a poster about fetal development, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"You don't have to do this, you know. There's other options."

"Like what?" Naz snapped, immediately regretting her tone.

"Adoption? Or maybe raising the baby yourself? I'm a single mum and I have this group of women who are my support system. Do you have that, Nazanin?"

Naz shook her head. Gia would help if she wasn't across the continent, but Des? That bridge was burned. And moving back to New Jersey? To her mom and stepfather's judgmental house? They'd treat her like shit even if they loved the baby. But isn't that what being a parent meant – sacrificing comfort for your child?

"How long do I have to decide?" Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

The nurse explained the timeline, mentioned seeing a counselor first. "You seem like you have a lot on your mind right now. I don't think it's best to make these certain decisions at the moment."

"But I-"

"Nazanin, abortion is a serious thing to consider. Your mental health is important as well. Are you in contact with the child's father? Maybe-"

Her phone rang – unknown number. Her heart dropped to her shoes.

"I'll give you time to answer that." The nurse slipped out, leaving Naz alone with her racing thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Naz, what the fuck are you doing?" Aurélien's voice came through angry, other voices murmuring in the background.

"Give me the phone, Aurélien," she heard his uncle say, followed by scuffling.

"Nazanin, it's Bertrand." His usually warm voice was formal, distant.

"Hi," she croaked, sniffling.

"Nazanin, what is happening? I understand you and Aurélien are not seeing each other anymore but to put it on the blogs..." His disappointed tone broke something in her. She let out a sob. "Nazanin, are you okay?"

"Give me the phone, uncle." Aurélien's voice commanded. Patience had never been his strong suit when he was upset about something.

"Djani, I am handling this for you. Please show patience." Bertrand's tone was firm, used to managing his nephew's temperamental moments.

"Is Aurélien there?" Naz asked quietly.

"I can put the phone on speaker. Hold on." More scuffling and rustling filled the line. "He's here. He's listening now."

"Hey Naz." Aurélien's voice softened, sounding like her Aurélien again, the anger seemingly dissipated.

"Am I still your favorite artist?" She couldn't help asking, remembering their inside joke about sharing a name with the rapper.

He chuckled. "Always." Then quoted their favorite Nas lyric.

She smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry. Destiny thought-"

"I never liked that girl," Uncle Bertrand huffed.

"Yeah... she's something."

"Her spirit is not pure. I told you, Aurél, that it wasn't Nazanin's fault."

"It is my fault though. I told her to-"

"She manipulated you, Nazanin," Uncle Bertrand cut in. "We can apologize once you're back in Madrid."

"Uncle-"

"You need to apologize, Aurélien. We need to make this right."

"I know I do. I should've never sent that text to you, Nazanin."

"I know, Aurél. We made some mistakes."

"I was so upset-" Aurélien started, but Uncle Bertrand interrupted again.

"We can talk when she gets here."

Aurélien opened his mouth to say something else, but then the hospital PA system crackled overhead, and his tone changed instantly. "Nazanin, is everything okay? Why are you at the hospital?"

Her protector. Her lion. Always the one watching out for everyone else, even when he was angry.

"Aurélien, we need to talk."

"About?" His confusion was clear in his voice.

She heard Uncle Bertrand's soft "fuck" as he figured it out.

"Naz, what's going on?"

One deep breath. Two. Her news, the one she'd been holding onto for almost two weeks, exploded out of her mouth: "I'm pregnant."

Uncle Bertrand's louder "fuck" echoed through the phone, but from Aurélien? Nothing but silence.

"Aurélien?"

The line went dead.

Naz stared at her phone, hands shaking. Called back immediately – straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. A third time – same thing.

"Fuck," she whispered, then louder, "Fuck!"

The nurse chose that moment to return, taking in Naz's tear-streaked face with practiced sympathy. "Everything alright, love?"

"I just told him," Naz managed, still clutching her phone. "I just told the father and he... the call dropped and now he won't..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice how much it hurt that in this moment, this massive, life-changing moment, Aurélien had gone silent again. Or maybe Uncle Bertrand had taken his phone. Or maybe...

Her phone buzzed – a text from an unknown number. Her heart jumped until she opened it:

Nazanin, this is Bertrand. Aurélien is... processing. Give him a moment. We will call back soon. Please do not make any decisions without speaking to us first.

Us. Like she was dealing with Tchouaméni Management now instead of the man who'd held her through thunderstorms, who'd dance with her in his kitchen, who'd absentmindedly massaged her scalp while watching match footage.

"Do you want to reschedule?" the nurse asked gently. "Maybe take some time to talk things through with the father?"

If he ever calls back, Naz thought bitterly. But she just nodded, gathering her things. "Yeah, I think... I think I need a minute."

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number:

Don't leave the clinic. Please. - A

Two seconds later:

I'm booking a flight. Stay there. Please.

Then from Bertrand: He's on his way. Hospital name?

Naz's hands were still shaking as she typed out the clinic's name and address. Three dots appeared almost immediately:

Flight booked. 2 hours. Don't move. Don't make any decisions. Please.

The 'please' caught her off guard. Aurélien, Mr. Confident, Mr. Always-In-Control, saying please. Thrice.

"The father's coming," she told the nurse, her voice steadier than she felt. "He's... he's flying in."

The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Flying in? From where?"

"Madrid." Naz wiped her eyes. "He plays for Real Madrid."

Understanding dawned on the nurse's face – she must have seen the gossip blogs. But instead of judgment, she just squeezed Naz's shoulder. "There's a private waiting room down the hall. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Naz nodded gratefully, following her to a small room with comfortable chairs and warm lighting. As she sat down, her phone buzzed one more time:

Je suis désolé. For everything. For blocking you. For not listening. For not being there when you found out. I'm coming. We'll figure this out. Together.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, still flat but now feeling somehow different. More real.

"Your papa's coming," she whispered, then laughed wetly at herself for talking to a cluster of cells that couldn't hear her. "He's... he's actually coming."

********************************************************

Two hours and a half later, the door opened, and there he was – Aurélien in a Nike tracksuit, hood pulled up, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything hanging between them.

Then the duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, and Naz was moving before she could think, crashing into his chest as tears started falling. His arms came around her automatically, one hand cradling the back of her head like he always did.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She pulled back enough to look at him, wiping her eyes. "I know what we are, what this was supposed to be. I know this isn't what you wanted-"

"How far along?" he cut in, his voice soft but steady.

"Almost eight weeks."

She watched him do the math in his head, saw the moment it clicked. "Mallorca." She nodded. "Fuck." He ran a hand over his face. "I wanted to go raw that time and look where it got us." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I'm sorry about blocking you too. Too much was in my head, I was angry-"

"We can worry about that later," she cut him off. "Right now we need to think about... about this."

They sat down next to each other, and Aurélien pulled his hood off, clasping his hands together. "What do you want to do?"

Naz tried to keep her voice neutral, clinical. "It's just cells right now, so... an abortion would be-"

She saw something flicker across his face, a tightening around his eyes, but he nodded. "If that's what you want."

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You'll let me go through with it?" Fresh tears were falling now.

"Naz... this is your decision too. You said that if you... abort the baby, it'll be fine. Is that not what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, Aurél."

"I don't either. This wasn't planned."

"No fucking shit!" The chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly.

Aurélien held his head in his hands, pulling lightly at his fresh taper fade, before letting out a groan. "Naz, we have to make a decision, okay? We can't keep running around and arguing about this. You're eight weeks pregnant, Nazanin, we have a timeline to... make a choice."

She folded her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"

"Naz... I really don't know..."

"Do you want me to abort the baby?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nazanin." He rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, Aurélien... do you?" More emphasis this time, demanding an answer.

He went quiet, biting his bottom lip in that way he did when he was really thinking, probably running through every possible outcome in that tactical mind of his. The silence stretched until she was about to scream, when-

"Yes..." His eyes met hers, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs. Those eyes that were usually so warm, so playful, now held something deeper – fear, uncertainty, a desperate need to make the right choice. "And no. Would having an abortion make things a hundred times easier – yes, but what about where that leaves you? We're 24 years old, Nazanin – this isn't like changing coursework at university. This is a baby. A human-"

"It's cells right now!"

"Don't give me that, Nazanin!" His shout made her flinch slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but don't try to be stale with your emotions. I know you are thinking about it too. A baby will make things hard for the both of us. We have to figure what we have out and make decisions on how to raise that baby. Would we just co-parent or would we be together?"

"I'm not gonna be a baby mama." Her voice was firm.

"And I don't want you to be, but what we have right now was casual... even though we only was with each other, it was still that. What I'm trying to say is – fuck!" He yanked at his hair again, frustration evident in every movement. "Naz, this wasn't supposed to happen. Shit, not like this."

"I know."

Naz sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. "What would your uncle say?"

"Uncle Bertrand?" Aurélien let out a dry laugh. "He's probably already planning the baby shower. You know how he is about family."

"And your parents?"

His jaw tightened. "They'd... adjust. Eventually." He turned to look at her. "What about yours?"

"My mom would probably fly straight to London just to kill me herself." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Then she'd resurrect me just to lecture me about how I threw my life away for a footballer."

"You didn't throw your life away-"

"Didn't I though?" Her voice cracked. "Everything I worked for, my degree, my career... having a baby now would-"

"Who says you have to give any of that up?" There was an edge to his voice now. "You think I'd let you do this alone? You think I wouldn't make sure you and the baby had everything you needed?"

"That's not the point, Aurélien! I don't want to be some footballer's baby mama living off child support-"

"Stop saying that!" He was on his feet now, pacing the small room. "You're not just some... We're not..." He stopped, running his hands over his face. "Fuck, Naz, you will never be that to me. You know that."

She looked up at him, heart pounding. "Do I?"

"Eight months, Nazanin. Eight months of me flying you out every weekend, introducing you to my uncle, giving you keys to my place-"

"While keeping me your little secret-"

"To protect you! You saw what happened the minute those blogs got hold of those pictures. The shit they're saying about you..." He knelt in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to do this right. Take our time. But now..."

"Now what?"

"Now we have about seven months to figure out how to be parents." His thumbs traced circles on her palms. "If... if that's what you want."

Naz stared at their joined hands, at how his dwarfed hers. Hands that could control a ball with perfect precision, that could change the direction of a game, that were now offering to help guide her through this mess they'd created.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Me too." His honesty surprised her. Aurélien Tchouaméni, always so sure of himself, admitting fear. "But maybe that's okay? Maybe being scared means we're taking this seriously?"

"The press would have a field day."

"Fuck the press."

"Your career-"

"Will be fine. I'm not the first footballer to have a baby."

"Your girlfriend might object though," she couldn't help adding.

His head snapped up. "What girlfriend?"

"The model. The one they keep linking you to in the papers."

He actually laughed. "Naz, the only woman who's been in my bed for the past eight months is you. The only woman who has keys to my place is you. The only woman my dog actually listens to is you." His expression softened. "The only woman I want to figure this out with is you."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's not fair. You can't say things like that when my hormones are all over the place."

His laugh was gentler this time. "Sorry." He reached up to wipe her tears away. "But I mean it. Whatever we decide – about the baby, about us – we do it together. No more blocking, no more games, no more letting other people get in our heads."

"Even Destiny?"

"Especially Destiny." He made a face. "Uncle Bertrand was right about her spirit."

That startled a laugh out of her. "Your uncle and his spiritual readings."

"He's never wrong though." Aurélien's expression turned serious again. "So what do you say? We take some time, really think about this? No pressure, no rushed decisions. Just... figure it out together?"

Naz looked at him – really looked at him. At the man who'd flown across countries the moment she needed him, who was on his knees in front of her offering support instead of easy solutions. At the potential father of her child.

"Together," she agreed softly.

His relief was visible. "Together." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Now can we get out of this clinic? Hospitals make me nervous and I haven't eaten since I got your call."

"You're always hungry."

"Growing boy."

"You're literally a professional athlete."

He stood, pulling her up with him. "Exactly. Need to keep my strength up." His hand slid to her still-flat stomach. "Especially now."

The gesture should have felt presumptuous, but instead it felt... right. Like maybe they could actually do this.

A soft knock interrupted them, and the nurse from earlier poked her head in. Her eyes widened slightly at Aurélien's presence – of course she recognized him – but she maintained her professional demeanor.

"Everything alright in here?" she asked, though her gentle smile suggested she'd heard enough of their conversation to know things were better.

"Yeah," Naz managed, suddenly aware she was still holding Aurélien's hand. "We're just..."

"Taking things one step at a time," Aurélien finished, giving her hand a squeeze.

The nurse nodded. "Would you like to see the baby? You're far enough along for an ultrasound."

Naz felt Aurélien tense beside her. "We can... we can do that?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Of course. Let me get you two into a proper exam room first, and I'll give you some information about all your options." She gestured for them to follow her.

The new room was bigger, with an ultrasound machine and an exam table. The nurse handed them several pamphlets – Naz tried not to focus too hard on the ones about termination – and went through Naz's chart.

"Everything looks good so far," she said, patting the exam table. "Hop up here, love. Dad, you can sit right there."

Dad. The word made Aurélien's breath catch audibly.

"This might be a bit cold," the nurse warned as she applied the gel to Naz's stomach. Aurélien moved his chair closer, his eyes fixed on the screen.

For a moment, there was just static, and then...

"There we go," the nurse said softly. "See that little flutter? That's the heartbeat."

Naz heard Aurélien's sharp intake of breath. She turned to look at him and found his eyes were glassy, his usually composed expression cracking around the edges.

"Quite strong for eight weeks," the nurse continued, taking measurements. "Everything looks perfectly normal. Would you like a picture to take home?"

"Yes," Aurélien said immediately, then looked at Naz. "If... if that's okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Because that flutter on the screen... that was real. That was their baby. Not just cells, but a actual heartbeat and an embryo.

The nurse printed two copies of the ultrasound – "One for each of you" – and helped Naz clean up. "I'll give you a moment," she said, heading for the door. "When you're ready, there's a private exit through the back. I assume you'd prefer that?"

Aurélien nodded gratefully. Being spotted at a women's clinic was the last thing either of them needed right now.

Once they were alone, he looked down at the ultrasound picture in his hands. His fingers traced the tiny shape that would become their child.

"It's so small," he whispered.

"Yeah." Naz slid off the table, straightening her clothes.

"But that heartbeat..." He shook his head in wonder. "That was... fuck, Naz."

"I know." She leaned into him, and his arm came around her automatically.

"You still scared?"

"Terrified."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Me too. But maybe a little less than before?"

She nodded against his chest. The flutter of that heartbeat had changed something, made it all more real but also somehow less overwhelming. Maybe because now they were facing it together.

"Come on," he said finally, grabbing his duffel bag. "Let's get out of here. We can grab some food, talk more about everything."

The nurse was waiting by the back exit, holding the door open for them. "Take care of each other," she said softly as they passed.

Aurélien's hand found the small of Naz's back, guiding her through the door into the afternoon sun. His other hand was still holding the ultrasound picture, tucked safely in his pocket like something precious.

Maybe because it was.

Aurélien stifled another yawn as he sat against the training pitch wall, water bottle dangling from his fingers. The 5 AM flight from London had him running on fumes, but it wasn't just the lack of sleep weighing on him. Last night with Naz had been... intense. Hours of tears and whispered conversations, trying to map out a future neither of them had planned for.

He'd held her while she cried about her career, about her mother's inevitable reaction, about all the ways this could go wrong. Then she'd held him when the reality of everything finally hit and he'd broken down too.

Uncle Bertrand's lecture still rang in his ears: "Sexual responsibility, Djani. Being a man means facing consequences." Like he didn't know that. Like the ultrasound picture burning a hole in his wallet wasn't consequence enough.

Fling. The word kept bouncing around his head, making him grimace. That's what everyone would call Naz – his fling, his hookup, maybe his special friend if they were being polite. But how do you label someone who's seen you at your lowest after losing crucial matches? Someone who stays up till 3 AM discussing racism in football commentary? Someone who gets why you sometimes feel like you're not enough, even when you're playing for Real Madrid?

And now she was carrying his child.

"Yo." Cama's voice cut through his thoughts as his teammate dropped down beside him. Jude wasn't far behind, settling into the grass with that easy confidence of his.

"You look like shit, mate," Jude offered helpfully.

Aurélien took another swig of water. "Early flight."

"From London?" Cama's tone was careful, too careful. "We saw the blogs. About Naz."

The ultrasound picture felt heavier in his wallet. "Yeah."

"Everything good?" Jude asked, and Aurélien could hear the real question underneath: Are you good?

He stared out at the training pitch, at the pristine grass that had always been his escape. But football couldn't solve this one. Couldn't tell him how to be a father at 24, how to protect Naz from the media shitstorm that was coming, how to balance a baby with his career.

"She's pregnant," he said finally, the words still feeling foreign on his tongue.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then:

"Fuck," from Jude.

"Putain," from Cama.

Aurélien let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah."

"What are you gonna do?" Cama asked, all traces of his usual playfulness gone.

"Keep it." He didn't realize he'd made that decision until the words came out. "I want to keep it."

"You sure?" Jude's voice was gentle. "It's a lot, mate. The press alone..."

"Fuck the press." Aurélien pulled the ultrasound from his wallet, looked at that tiny flutter of life that had changed everything. "We saw the heartbeat yesterday. It's... it's real."

His teammates leaned in to look at the picture, and for a moment, they were just three young guys staring at something miraculous and terrifying.

"What if she goes through with it?" Jude asked carefully. "The abortion. Would you be mad?"

Aurélien stared at the grass, rolling the water bottle between his palms. Was he ready to be a father? Hell no. But could he just let Naz terminate their pregnancy? The thought made his stomach turn.

"I can't be mad at her. It's her choice too," he said finally. "I support her right to her choice, but... it's different when it's your baby."

"Is it your baby though?" Cama's face had that weird look he got when he was about to say something controversial. Both Jude and Aurélien glared at him. "We know those types of girls.... we fuck 'em and leave 'em but they have other plans."

"Naz isn't like that," Aurélien's voice went hard.

"Naz who also hangs out with Destiny who was with me and is now making her way through the team," Cama pushed back.

Aurélien let out a frustrated huff. "Naz never gave me that vibe. She even shared her location - she was too focused on me."

"Whoa, she shared her location with you?" Jude's eyebrows shot up.

"Once or twice. Thing is, I always knew where she was at.... so yeah, definitely my baby."

Jude scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't believe you went raw. Like condoms aren't fun and all, but they protect you."

"Thanks Jude, really needed that advice," Aurélien said sarcastically.

"But you want a baby?" Cama pressed. "Bro, you won't be able to have fun."

"I can still have fun, but it'll be different now. Have to be more responsible."

"No more clubs, no more trips... you'll be out here worrying about nappies and which bottle is best." Jude sounded almost sad about it.

Aurélien shrugged. "I'm a homebody anyways, so what's the point? Is this what I want right now while going through this bullshit? No. But I was there making that baby with her, so it is what it is."

"I still think you should do a DNA test first." Aurélien shot Cama another glare, and his teammate put up his hands in surrender. "Just for your peace of mind."

"It's too early to do that. We'd have to keep it and then wait to do one."

"Fuck..." Cama exhaled heavily. "So do you let her get rid of it then?"

"Don't call the baby 'it'," Aurélien snapped. "That's not an 'it'. That's my kid."

The silence that followed was heavy with understanding. This wasn't just about Aurélien anymore, or even about Naz. It was about that tiny flutter of life that had somehow changed everything.

"Whatever she decides..." Jude started carefully.

"Yeah." Aurélien finally tucked the picture away. "Whatever she decides. But fuck, I hope she doesn't..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice his fear that Naz might choose differently, that she might end this before it really began. Because how do you tell someone you want them to keep a baby neither of you planned for? How do you ask them to change their whole life because you can't stop thinking about that little heartbeat?

The whistle blew, signaling the end of their break. As they stood, Cama bumped his shoulder.

"You know we got you, right? Whatever you need."

"Yeah," Jude added. "Even if it's just covering for you when you're falling asleep during training."

Aurélien rolled his eyes, but the knot in his chest loosened slightly. Maybe they weren't ready for any of this – the baby, the responsibility, the scrutiny that was coming. But at least they weren't facing it alone.

Back to football. Back to pretending his whole world hadn't just shifted on its axis.

"Tchouaméni!" Ancelotti called out. "Focus!"

He'd missed a simple pass – the kind he could usually make in his sleep. But his head was somewhere else, somewhere in London with Naz, probably still crying on her bedroom floor.

"Sorry, Coach," he called back, shaking his head to clear it.

Training continued, but every movement felt mechanical. Pass, move, track back. His body knew what to do even if his mind was elsewhere. During shooting practice, he caught himself thinking about baby-proofing his villa. While defending set pieces, he wondered if the baby would have Naz's eyes.

"You're in your head," Cama said during another water break. "Coach is noticing."

"Let him notice." Aurélien took a long drink. "Got bigger things to worry about."

"Like what crib to buy?" Jude teased, but his smile faded when he saw Aurélien's expression. "Wait, are you actually-"

"I looked at some last night," Aurélien admitted quietly. "When Naz finally fell asleep. Found this really nice one, all white with gold trim-"

"Bro," Cama cut in. "You can't be planning nurseries when she hasn't even decided if-"

"I know!" The water bottle crumpled in Aurélien's grip. "You think I don't know that? But what else am I supposed to do? Just sit around waiting for her to decide if my kid gets to exist or not?"

A few teammates glanced their way at his outburst. Jude stepped closer, blocking their view.

"Maybe that's exactly what you need to do," he said gently. "Show her you'll support her either way. That it's really her choice."

"Even if her choice kills me?"

The raw honesty in his voice made both his friends pause. This wasn't their usual Aurélien – confident, composed, always in control. This was someone terrified of losing something he hadn't even known he wanted until yesterday.

"Send her the crib," Cama said suddenly.

"What?"

"Send her the link to the crib you liked. Show her you're thinking about it. About the future. But don't pressure her. Just... let her know you're ready if she is."

Aurélien stared at him. "That's... actually smart."

"I have my moments." Cama grinned. "Now can you please focus on training before Coach makes us all run sprints?"

But focusing was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that ultrasound image. Every time he caught his breath, he heard that tiny heartbeat. And every time his phone buzzed in the locker room, his heart stopped, wondering if this was the message from Naz that would either make or break him.

Because that's what it came down to, really. In less than 48 hours, he'd gone from being Real Madrid's midfielder to potentially being someone's father. And somehow, impossibly, the second title felt bigger than the first.

****************************************************************

After training, Aurélien found Uncle Bertrand waiting in his kitchen, sage burning because "the energy needs cleansing, nephew." The older man was stirring something that smelled like his grandmother's cooking, probably trying to comfort him with food like always.

"You look tired, Djani," Bertrand said, not turning around. "Sit. Eat."

"I'm not hungry-"

"Sit."

Aurélien sat. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially with Uncle Bertrand.

"Have you spoken to Nazanin today?"

"Not since I left London." He pulled out his phone, staring at their last text exchange from this morning: Landed safely. Get some rest. And her reply: You too.

"You should call her."

"And say what?" Aurélien pushed his food around the plate. "'Hey, I know you're dealing with possibly the biggest decision of your life, but I found this really nice crib online?'"

Bertrand turned, fixing him with that look that always made him feel about five years old. "Is that what you want to say to her?"

"I don't know what I want to say. I don't know what I can say." He dropped his fork. "She could terminate and there's nothing I can do about it."

"This is true."

"I'd have to support her decision."

"Also true."

"But uncle…" His voice cracked slightly. "I saw the heartbeat."

Bertrand's expression softened. "I know, nephew. But Nazanin must make this choice herself. Without pressure."

"Even from me?"

"Especially from you." Bertrand sat across from him. "But showing her you're thinking of the future? This is not pressure. This is… hope."

Aurélien pulled out his phone again, found the crib he'd bookmarked during those sleepless hours in London. White with gold trim, converting into a toddler bed, probably cost more than some people's cars but…

"Send it," Bertrand said softly.

His thumb hovered over the link. Then:

Saw this last night. Made me think about possibilities.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. His heart was somewhere in his throat when her reply finally came through:

It's beautiful.

Then: But expensive.

Money's not an issue, he typed back.

Aurel…

Just showing you I'm thinking about it. About everything. No pressure.

A longer pause this time. Then: I had an appointment with a counselor today.

His hands were shaking slightly as he replied: Yeah? How'd it go?

She helped me see some things clearly.

His stomach dropped. This was it. She was going to tell him she'd made her decision, that she was going to-

I'm scared of doing this alone.

Relief flooded through him. You're not alone. Never alone with this.

Promise?

On everything. On football. On my life.

She sent back a heart emoji, then: The crib really is beautiful.

"See?" Bertrand's voice made him jump – he'd almost forgotten his uncle was there. "Hope."

"She's still scared."

"Of course she is. You're both children yourselves."

"I'm twenty-four-"

"Children," Bertrand repeated firmly. "But children can grow. Children can learn. Children can become parents, if they choose."

If they choose. Those words again. Always coming back to choice.

His phone buzzed one more time: Send me more nursery stuff you like?

Something warm bloomed in his chest. "Uncle?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think we might be having a baby."

Bertrand's smile was gentle. "Perhaps. But first, you eat. Growing fathers need their strength."

Aurélien looked down at his plate, found himself actually hungry for the first time all day. Because maybe Naz hadn't made her final decision yet, but she was thinking about cribs and nurseries and possibilities.

And right now, possibility felt a lot like hope.

"You know," Bertrand said carefully, watching his nephew finally eat, "we still need to discuss your mother."

The fork clattered against the plate. Aurélien's head dropped to the cool marble countertop with a dull thud. "Fuck!"

"Language."

"Sorry, uncle, but… fuck." He pressed his forehead harder against the marble. "She already called me twice about those blog posts."

"Mm." Bertrand's hum was knowing. "She wasn't pleased."

That was an understatement. His mother had been livid about seeing her son's 'private affairs' splashed across gossip sites. She had very specific ideas about how a footballer should conduct himself – everything behind closed doors, everything properly managed.

"'Sowing your wild oats is one thing, Aurélien,'" he mimicked her tone, "'but discretion is everything.'"

"And now?"

"Now I have to tell her those wild oats actually sprouted." He lifted his head just enough to bang it against the counter again. "She's going to kill me."

"She won't kill you." Bertrand paused. "Maim you, perhaps."

"Not helping, uncle."

"Have you thought about how you'll tell her?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd do it?" He tried his most winning smile, the one that usually got him out of trouble.

"No." Bertrand's response was immediate. "This is your responsibility."

"But-"

"Your mother needs to hear this from you. Not from me, not from the blogs, not from some PR statement." Bertrand's voice softened. "She needs to see you taking responsibility."

Aurélien finally sat up, rubbing his forehead. "She's going to say I'm too young. That I'm ruining my career. That I should've been more careful-"

"All true things."

"Uncle."

"But," Bertrand continued, "she is also your mother. And that?" He pointed to Aurélien's phone, still open to his conversation with Naz about nursery furniture. "That will be her grandchild. If Nazanin chooses to keep it."

"If." That word again, hanging heavy between them.

"Your mother might surprise you. But she needs to hear it from you, Djani. Man to mother."

His phone lit up with another text from Naz – a different crib design, this one with a matching changing table. His heart did that weird flutter thing again.

"I'll call her later," he decided. "After I talk to Naz more. Figure out where we stand."

Bertrand nodded approvingly. "Good. Now finish your food. You have nursery furniture to shop for."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I'm old, nephew. Let me have my future grand-uncle joy."

Aurélien shook his head, but he was smiling as he picked up his fork again. One hurdle at a time. First Naz, then his mother, then… everything else.

His phone buzzed again. A message from his mother this time: We need to talk about these blogs, Aurélien.

He stared at it for a long moment before typing back: Yes, we do. Tomorrow?

Her response was immediate: Finally. See you then. Love you.

"Fuck," he whispered again, but softly enough that Uncle Bertrand wouldn't hear.

Because how exactly do you tell your image-conscious mother that those blog posts were about to become the least of her worries?

.............tbd

#quainwritings #aurelien tchouameni #quain’s masterlist #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fic #aurelien tchouameni imagines #aurelien tchouameni imagine #footballer x oc #footballer x reader #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction

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rookamell · 1 day ago

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There are people who are going to disagree with me on this for thematic Rook/Solas reasons and that's ok, but I've been stewing on this for a few weeks now and I truly believe the Regret Prison was the biggest missed oppertunity to have a Fort Drakon Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

So Rook falls in behind the statue of Varric, and the screen fades to black, and it switches to the companions in the Lighthouse library. I can't decide but I'm leaning toward the scene indicating that a substantial amount of time has passed (three weeks in game? That's a good time?) and the companions are arguing, because of course they are, because Rook isn't there to 'lead'.

Idk how, but somehow Emmrich locates Rook in the Fade, but there's some sort of barrier, obviously, because Rook can't find their way out of their own in this scenario: so We (the team) have to go in an find them.

BUT! Oh no! Emmrich can only hold the Fade open (or however you say it) long enough for two people to get through. So your love interest obviously immediately jumps at the chance, and then whichever companion you have the highest bond/ most approval with goes with them. (Could be a good way to incorporate the bond/approval thing they have going on in the game, because I don't think they utilised it enough AT ALL) if you didn't romance anyone, it's just the two with the highest approval.

So you play as these two, and you have to work together to face Rook's Regrets. (You could even have a callback here to the Gauntlet in Origins when you have to get Andraste's Ashes when you fight whichever companions you brought, but instead maybe its whichever companions you fucked over so Neve/Bellara, Lace/Davrin, Neve/Lucanis <- sucks a little that Neve is there twice but this is a work in progress, ok?) and obviously you face a bunch of other stuff (maybe have to answer some questions about what Rook did for the team like in Inner Demons? Idk) and the 'final boss' is Varric, who is already standing with Rook.

The kicker here is that the 'boss fight' is not a fight, your success or lack thereof depends on 1.) how much your companions approve of you and 2.) if they are all heroes of the Veilguard (aka if you actually did as Varric asked and 'looked after the team for [him], kid')

And then Rook and whoever is there share a moment before they all move on and get back to the others yadda yadda.

I get why they didn't do this because 1.) I think it would take A Lot to implement in the game actually and idk if they had the time/budget for that, and 2.) there is a theme there with Solas being stuck in his regret and Rook being able to make their way out.

But as for 2.) I think you could still say there's a Rook/Solas thing there because Solas pushed everyone away while Rook embraced their team/friends and so they got out because they had people willing to help them get out. Like I said, I know people aren't going to agree with that but it's just my take.

It would have been a cool way to show how much the companions do care about Rook and also gain some insight into Rook that's not their perspective. Also it would actually add to the whole 'found family' thing the game tries to tell you is what's happening in a very tell not show way. This could be the 'show'.

Just some thoughts anyway

#because im obsessed with the regret prison/inner demons parallels but you didnt hear that from me #i just NEED Rook's love interest tonsee them at their absolute worst just once #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #rook dragon age #emmrich volkarin #neve gallus #bellara lutare #taash dragon age #lace harding #davrin dragon age #solas dragon age #varric tethras #regret prison #veilguard headcanons

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constantfragmentation · 1 hour ago

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Agreed.

Do I believe Vander blames himself, that he wronged Silco? Yes, I do. But he really doesn't do much beyond extended a weak olive branch to a trusted friend that he just tried to kill. It wasn't a fight that got out of hand, he tried to kill him.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm sure as hell not going to seek my attempted murderer out afterwards to 'reconcile'. Yeah, no. Silco isn't going to the their special place in the mines, the Drop or anywhere else in FEAR he may run into his attacker and die the next time.

Let's also not forget, the Felica reason is really stupid. He lost his head? The writing is so weak here. Silco and Vander's break seemed more profound than an accidental death of a mutual friend. People get hurt and die in revolts. They had to know there would be casualties or why bother with revolting against Enforcers, who are heavily armed?

Also, if we use a vague timeline between the Day of Ash, Silco recovering from extensive injuries mentally, emotionally and physically, to the point in Arcane S1E1, WHERE... Vander and Benzo make the comment of 'there are worse things than Enforcers out there" meaning Silco and immediately painting him as the big baddie in the first episode.

So, by the age of the kids supposedly on the Day of Ash and then in Ep1, Vander had YEARS to try and contact Silco. They lived in the Underground, know the same people. There's not exactly an infinite places to stay hidden. Vander and Benzo clearly know Silco is operating in the Undercity.

You can't tell me in all those YEARS, Vander couldn't have made the effort to actually contact Silco and clear shit up. He chose not to and continued painting his 'brother' as a bad guy. For someone who 'never forgave himself', he sure didn't make an effort to find his brother. His effort was the weakest ever.

Even his "I never forgave myself" is hollow. No, buddy, you should have been begging your brother's forgiveness for what you did to him. It's this pathetic attempt of Vander's is what I find insulting. We're supposed to go, "oh look he was sorry , if only Silco KNEW!". But it doesn't address the work needed to regain a person's trust and forgiveness.

Vander didn't put in the effort to deserve Silco's forgiveness. End of story.

The mutliverse episode just felt like a slap in the face in this respect. Silco's personality completely changes which makes ZERO sense. The young Silco and Timeline Silco in S2 don't make any sense compared the characterization of Silco in all of S1.

Young Silco HAD to have traits that build into what makes S1 Older Silco. The drowning isn't going to make those traits magically appear. It was always about the cause. Even if Vander apologized, his handling of the Underground and working with Enforcers is what pits Silco against him. THAT is the betrayal.

I don't think Vander's letter would have done much if we're going off S1 Silco explanation of the drowning and aftermath. Silco tried to see if he could get back the 'old Vander' but also knew it might not happen and had Plan B in the wings.

" I let a weak man die".

Silco decided that the cause was still the most important thing to him and learned not to trust anyone so willingly and blindly.

The Felicia angle is so weak. There is no build-up to this magical trio of friends. Silco doesn't seem to know her kids or vice versa. The kids seems to see Silco as an enemy most likely due to Vander and Benzo.

If Silco was a true friend, why doesn't he know the kids or vice versa? You'd think due to their age prior to the bridge, Silco would be a part of their lives and not just Vander?

S2 was such a disappointing mess. If they really wanted to explore these relationships, then they should have laid some of the groundwork in S1 but didn't. The fact it was dealt with in such a sloppy manner and expected fans to love it? That's what bugs me.

And the blatant character assassination of SO many characters in order to make their plot work.

All of S2 was poorly executed. Period.

y'all. y'all know the letter wasn't the apology right. it was the olive branch. "you know where to find me" was an invitation. he couldn't apologize in a letter. he wanted silco to meet him. yeah it was a shit apology. because it wasn't one. my word.

#silco #vander #arcane critical

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padsmoony04 · 3 days ago

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I don't know if someone had done it, but if they had, PLEASE tag me! But I needed to share this little thought I had about a JasonTodd×Reader little angst to comfort that is inspired to the master piece that "Would you fall in love with me again" is.

☆......................................☆.........................................☆

So what came to my mind was something in between the lines of...

☆......................................☆.........................................☆

RobinJason met the reader on his first day of high school after being adopted by Bruce. And that they became friends, but with time, Jason developed a crush on the reader and clinche enough they started daiting time afterward (Yes, high school sweethearts, friends to lovers, what about it?).

Everything was so sweet, Jason being all cute and loving and chamirn, thinking that the reader was really the love of his life at his only sixteen years old or whatever. But then, oh disgrace, Joker and his crowbar show up, and Jason dies, then his hole classic lore.

After his resurrection and everything that happened from then on, stop him from seeing the reader cause he was scared. He knew she saw the news or what people think about Red Hood, about his methods. So what if when he showed himself and the reader hated him and disliked him so much for who he is now? What if they rejected him? No, his already fragile and broken heart wouldn't be able to take that pain. It would truly be his last straw. He couldn't do it.

But well, he's a naturally and emotional, touched starved man. So at the end, his heart can't take it anyone, he needs to go and see reader, at least to say goodbye properly (or that's what he tried to fool himself into believing) cause the reality was that a small part of him just hoped and wanted to see if they would even, by any chance, take him back.

So there he is, sneaking into her place late hours. He knew she was awake cause the small light of her bedside table was on. (And here comes the most obvious part that it shows is epic inspired.)

With shaky and sweaty hands, a now tall, full of muscles, scars, and more broken than ever, Jason Todd is standing in front of the person he always saw as the love of his life. His voice was small, almost scared, saying her name. Reader turned around, startled not believing her eyes. "Jason? Is it really you?" And just like the song or very similar everything starts to unfold. He wanted to say goodbye, but he also felt like falling on his knees and crying and asking for forgiveness even though he didn't do anything wrong, at least not towards them. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, he wanted to kiss and hug them and tell them how much he missed them.

But apart of him, the insecure and broken part of him was stronger, so he just stood a few feet away and spilled it all, how, according to himself he wasn't the same boy they felt in love with, how much of a moster he was, how undeserving he was but even so, he couldn't help but asked, all bitterness and self-hatred he had inside, "Would you even fall in love with me again? If you knew all I've done. The things I can't undo, would you even love me the same?"

With emotions bubbling up and the need to just hold him tight and shower him with the love and put his pieces back together, they did just that. Reader moved forward, slow and careful steps, saying so gently and so reassuring how much Jason meant and means to her poor heart. Maybe he wasn't perfect. Maybe he had done things he didn't feel very proud of but found necessary. Maybe he wasn't that cheeky boy with his few scars and bruises with a hopeful look to life that Robin brought, and Joker took away. It didn't matter at the end, when he had them and they would love him, no matter what.

☆......................................☆.........................................☆

ANYWAY, shitty ending, but that's the thought, if you are a writer and want and have the time and passion to take this rambling and turning into a masterpiece, feel free to do so.

Bye! ♡

☆......................................☆.........................................☆

#sorry if it's bad but i wanted to get it out #it was supposed to be a small yapping moment got a little too carried away #it's probably the second time i ever do this here so bear with me if it's bad #sorry for the grammatical errors #Jason Todd yapping club #jason todd #batman #jason todd x reader #batfamily #red hood #red hood x reader #I'm not a writer after all lol #epic the musical #would you fall in love with me again #Jason Todd version #jason todd x you #jason todd thoughts

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secret-moonstruck · 13 hours ago

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NOT SO SWEET REVENGE | k.sn

— Pairing: dom!sunoo x sub!fem reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: Y/N made a comment in front of the others about her boyfriend being too sweet to try anything harder, and he decides to get revenge.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, praising, cum inside, making out, clit play, begging, hickeys, cum eating, overstimulation, injuries, slaps, pet play, submission, blood.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

They were all celebrating Sunoo's birthday, her friend handed her a gift and said it was for the two of you. But as soon as he opened the present you saw him blush, without understanding why you approached to look at the contents of the box, as soon as you saw that they were handcuffs and lingerie you quickly closed the box and took it out of his hands, but and the difference Later, all his friends had already seen it and started making fun of it.

- Wow, apparently Sunoo's gifts aren't finished yet, you won't receive the real gift until later. - Ni-Ki was teasing him.

- Poor Sunoo. Don't be too heavy with it, the child may not be able to handle the gift. - Jake made a mocking joke.

- That was unnecessary. - You scolded your friend.

- What, but the present is your face. - Her friend said laughing. - Don't pretend you don't like these things.

- I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing. - You tried to whisper to her but Heeseung who was nearby heard you.

- “I already said he's too sweet for that kind of thing” - Heeseung couldn't help it and started making fun. - Lol, I can't believe you have a perverted girlfriend and it's “SWEET Sunoo”.

Sunoo, who was just blushing out of embarrassment for the gift, was now blushing with anger, you realized that he was really offended and you understood, the jokes around I would have a holiday anyone's ego.

- Sunoo, I'm sorry. - You approached trying to calm him down.

- You will certainly regret it. - His look scared her, he didn't have his usual sweet expression, his gaze seemed fierce, and his voice was much heavier than normal.

But when he took your hand dragging you to the room taking the box with the gifts you weren't afraid, the way he looked different made you want to know what this angry side of him could show you.

You could hear the others arguing, surely thinking that the jokes might have damaged your relationship, that he was really angry.

At the same time you thought about how he looked so sexy bravo you wanted to grab him, you were also getting scared that he might break up with you, maybe he was really offended.

When he opened the door and pushed you inside making you fall on the bed you were already nervous about his silence, but when he turned to the closet looking for something and started talking, you were really scared that he had ruined everything because of a stupid gift.

- I always strived to treat you as I thought you deserved. Always ignoring my own desires by always thinking of you first. And for what? So you can humiliate me in front of my friends? Saying I'm not good enough.

- Sunoo you know it's not that, you are perfect in everything, I would never complain about anything.

- No? But it looks like you've been complaining to your friend, right?

- It wasn't that, I wasn't complaining... Please tell me you don't want to break up with me.

- Break up? It depends on the context. - He laughed ironically. - It doesn't matter, I tried to treat you in the best way possible, but if you want to be a bitch I will treat you exactly as you are, a bitch.

He found what he was looking for and turned back to you holding a box that he threw next to you on the bed. Your eyes widened, understanding what he meant by the context about breaking up. Why did her always so romantic innocent sweet boyfriend have these things in his closet?

- Come on, put this on. - He threw some things at you and pointed towards the door telling you to go. - I'll give you some of what you wanted. But don't forget that it was you who asked for it.

- Go? Wear this? But how will I get back?

- You've already made it clear to everyone that you're a bitch, what's the problem? - So many words you never expected to hear from him, it was making you dizzy.

You left the room with the things he gave you. You certainly couldn't leave the bathroom wearing that, the black lingerie might be pretty but it didn't cover anything, and the ears and tail... that was too much, you'd never walk down the hallway wearing that. Looking around you saw a towel and wrapped yourself in it so you could leave, luckily the hallway had no view of the room and no one passed by.

When he entered the room wrapped in a towel he got up from the bed and walked over to you.

- Who said you had to cover yourself? - He pulled the towel from his body angrily.

He admired you, looking at every detail of your body, your smile completely the opposite of his normal smile. He always seemed sweet to you, but now his eyes really looked like a fox, a wild fox that was going to devour you.

- I knew it would look perfect on you.

As he walked away you remained frozen in place, feeling a mix of emotions, at the same time being confused, as it seemed like the sweet Sunoo had been replaced, you hadn't recognized him, but at the same time you were loving it, feeling already excited looking forward to what would happen, you loved him for always being so romantic, so careful, but now everything about him seemed different, his posture, his look, his voice, his smile...

- Come here Y/N. - He called her sitting on the bed. His voice seemed to hypnotize you, you obeyed him without even realizing it.

When he pointed to the floor, you again didn't hesitate to obey, sitting on your knees in front of him.

- I ordered it for your birthday. I thought I would never see her using it. - He took what you thought was a choker and tied it around your neck. - It suits you perfectly. Go to the mirror and look.

Standing up and walking over to the mirror you saw him through the mirror, his gaze never leaving you. When you finally saw your own reflection you noticed that it wasn't a choker...it was obviously some kind of collar, and it had your name set in red stones.

Sunoo saw how your initially shocked look showed how much you liked the gift and smiled at you through the mirror.

Little by little they both realized that they were mistaken about how they saw each other, and how they wasted time with a facade of innocence.

You ran back to him happy with the gift, excitedly sitting on his lap, but when you tried to kiss him he pushed you away.

- I think you forgot why we're here Y/N. - As he spoke he attached a chain to the collar around his neck. - Why are you so excited? Have you forgotten that we are here to punish you for humiliating me?

- Sunoo I… - He didn't let you finish, he squeezed your face making you look into his eyes before pushing you making you get off his lap and pushing you away, he wanted to see you.

- If you beg, maybe I will forgive you.

It was obvious what he wanted, you got down on all fours and walked towards him.

- Please Sunoo, forgive me. - You begged, your eyes fixed on his. Now on your knees in front of him again.

- Sunoo? I think you didn't understand. - He pulled the chain on her collar, slightly choking her.

- Master... Please forgive me master! - Now tears rolling down your face, not from fear, but from excitement, why doesn't he fuck you soon?

- Better… But forgive you for what? - Pulling the collar again, this time harder.

- For underestimating you, master. For letting those lies speak about you.

- Very well, but that's not enough. You're not begging enough.

This time he pulled hard on the leash taking you to him before kissing you. This was also different from normal, it was much hotter, more engaging, sexy. You truly looked like a bitch, moans and sighs leaving your lips as he kissed you, your body melting from how hot it felt.

When you stood up a little, wanting more, trying to get closer to his body, he pushed you away.

- I didn't allow that. - His low and deep voice made you increasingly wet, but what really moved you was your face burning, the loud crack echoing through the room when he slapped your face.

First the shock of what happened, but without realizing it you smiled, he also noticed that. You let out a mix of scream and moan as he landed another slap on your face, you could feel the cold ring that was on his fingers against your face, and then the collar being pulled to make you face him.

- You smiled. - He laughed in admiration. - You really are a bitch.

His eyes shining with desire as he saw your face red, your lip bleeding from the impact.

- Oh... I think I hurt your beautiful face. - He said smiling, his tongue passing over a small cut made on his cheek by the ring, then also over the blood on his lips.

Your entire body frozen in place… OK…You were definitely falling more and more in love with him.

Your eyes followed his every movement as he took off his clothes. You always thought his body was perfect, it wasn't too thin, and he didn't have excessive muscles, everything was perfect, his skin that you loved to highlight, but always avoided being so obvious...damn it now you didn't have to worry about that anymore. Your mouth watered as you watched him now completely naked in front of you, the veins around his compliment so inviting...you knew it would be different from other times, and that seemed to make him even more attractive.

He didn't need to call you or pull you, you immediately got on your knees in front of him, but you waited, not wanting to risk doing something without him giving the order.

- Very well, good girl, you are already learning. - He touched her hair like someone praising a puppy. - I don't need to send it, do I? You know what to do. - Sunoo sat back on the bed, leaning back in his arms.

It was just what you needed to hear, when your hands finally touched his cock, you heard him sigh. You pumped him a few times before running your tongue from the base to the tip, catching the precum with your tongue before licking it again, you didn't notice that he was holding the chain around your neck until you felt a tug, and understood that he was getting impatient, soon you had him in your mouth, while your hand was on his balls. He obviously wasn't trying to hide his moans as you sucked him.

You couldn't take it anymore, while he didn't see you, he lowered his other hand to your wetness, pleasuring yourself. But when he felt you moaning against his dick he realized what you were doing, he pulled hard on your collar.

- Do that again and I won't let you cum tonight. - Your tone was authoritarian and you obviously wouldn't disobey.

Taking your hand away from you with a disappointed sigh you turned your attention fully to him, soon he came in your mouth, and you swallowed it all before opening your mouth to show him.

- Good girl, I think I can reward you.

He helped her up and signaled her to sit on his lap, but that was it. Then he took the chain off his collar and attached it to his wrists. All the while you were controlling yourself not to move in search of friction against his thighs, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he noticed it.

- You can move, I'll let you. - He barely finished speaking and you were rubbing against his thigh, your moisture spreading over his skin.

He watched for a while as you looked so pathetic and desperate moaning on his lap, the tail you wore swaying as you moved on his lap, he wanted to leave it longer but he couldn't wait any longer, he needed to be inside you.

Sunoo removed the lingerie you were still wearing and pushed you down making you lie down and attached the chain to the top of the bed. Then he stopped to observe you for a moment, admiring you, thinking about how many times he could have had you like this under him if he hadn't been so stupid to worry about how you seemed so fragile and he looked so upset, just to know that you were exactly like him.

Soon he lined up at your entrance, and you felt every inch of him sliding inside you, he didn't need to wait, you were too wet, his movements were fast and strong.

The loud moans echoing through the room, mixed with the sound of the chains that hurt your wrists as you tried unsuccessfully to free yourself, mixing with the wet sound of the contact of your bodies, your names leaving your lips like mantras.

Sunoo's hands gripping your waist tightly, leaving marks.

- Sunoo…please, Sunoo I beg you. - You asked when you were close, squeezing yourself around him, as he got closer and faster to cumming.

- That's right Y/N. Beg for me. - He said cumming, but without slowing down, making her cum too.

When he finally managed to catch his breath a little, he laughed, leaving you confused, he seemed to have had some idea.

- Come here. - He said, releasing the chains of the bed and picking him up, her legs around his waist as he carried her to the door, his back hitting her hard.

- Let's show that it is the child sweet? - His voice was nothing sweet, his whole body got goose bumps at how his voice sounded in his ear.

You tried to hold back your moans as he quickly pushed himself against you, your nails digging into his shoulders hard trying to keep yourself quiet, which was useless with the noise of your body hitting the door.

- No Y/N, let it out, I want to hear your beautiful voice moaning my name, go, you don't need to hold back. - His hand around your neck tightens, the collar under his fingers tightening even more on your skin making you dizzy.

- Please stop Sunoo, it's too much. - You asked, I was still very sensitive of your previous orgasm.

- Are you sure you want me to stop? - He said, slowing down. But that wasn't really what you wanted, you were close again, if he stopped now it would be worse.

- No, don't stop no, more, I need... - You begged.

- What do you need?

- I need to cum, please master. - Hearing you call him master again was the limit for him, not being able to take it anymore he came, you feeling every drop of him inside you made you come too while his name came frantically from your lips.

Your head falling onto his shoulder as you tried to remember how to breathe. He took you back to the bed and saw how screwed you looked, he removed the plug with the tail and your ear headband that was hanging from your hair, before kissing your chain injured wrists.

- Have you forgiven me? - It was the first thing you said, your voice weak.

- For now, yes. - He responded, pulling her to lie on his chest.

- I never really complained about you. I just said you were so perfect and sweet that I wanted to corrupt you. But apparently you were far from needing to be corrupted.

- It seems that they were both mistaken. You obviously didn't need that much care.

- Yes, we are the same, and we make mistakes equally, but now we no longer need masks.

- Exactly, and now that I know that you are not my fragile girlfriend, but a perverted little slut, next time I won't be so nice. - Nice…?

The next morning you felt like you could die from the embarrassment, everyone was wake up and when you entered the kitchen the conversation stopped immediately, everyone's eyes turned to you in shock.

- You could have been more discreet. - Jay scolded them. - We already understand Sunoo's message, next time remember to respect the other residents of the apartment.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #kim sunoo #sunoo scenarios #sunoo #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #jungwon #niki #smut #fantasy #imagine

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denimecho · 3 days ago

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I've been having issues falling asleep for the past few days. Whenever I try, I end up lying awake for hours thinking about things I'd prefer not to. Recently, though, there's been something new that I don't know how to manage alone, yet I also don't much feel like talking to anyone in specific about it.

I know it isn't my style to make a post like this, but I figure if there's a chance it offers some relief, it's worth a try.

It's been... possibly 4 years now, I think, since I cut my parents out of my life. I have never regretted this decision. There's been many times that it's been hard, because the feelings involved are conflicting even when you're sure you're making the right decision. Logic and emotion don't always go hand in hand, after all, so while I've always known my decision to do this was entirely fair, I have, of course, felt guilt and despair, loneliness, nowhere to turn to when times are hard.

It's odd when I think about it. I've always known that there were no parents to turn to, even when we were still in contact, because those were not the kinds of people they were. Superficially, yes, my mom is capable of being warm. That's perhaps the most terrifying thing about her, that she can be so warm and so kind, yet also so ridiculously cruel that it's hard to fathom it's coming from the same person. Neither of them inspired the trust that would make one feel like there are "always people who love you that you can turn to", but even so, once it was official that we wouldn't talk again and their numbers were blocked, it felt a different kind of true for the first time.

I've often missed my mom, or "wanted my mom", but known it wasn't her, the person, that I missed, but rather the concept of a mom. I think what I really missed those times were, in the end, some kind of security; an unconditional love that one can trust to always be there. I believe I have people I can trust in this manner, but it's not always easy to stay believing, when I know as well that they were raised to think family is the bond you can truly trust. I have to believe something else is true, because otherwise there is no one to truly trust.

I've long since given up wondering how my parents justify it to themselves that they do not love me. I'm sure they believe they do, somehow. Fact still is that they've attempted to reconnect with their favourite child time and time again, yet never me. They don't even ask about me when they try to sway my brother to speak to them again, and when he tells me so, I say that I know. "I know, I'm not surprised, yeah classic them". I've known since I was a kid that I "wasn't what they hoped for" - what my mom hoped for, at least. My dad didn't hope for kids in the first place - and it no longer hurts that they feel nothing for me. I don't know what it feels like, but it doesn't hurt, I'd say. In fact, part of me is thankful that they find me disappointing because it means I couldn't fix their misery by reestablishing contact with them anyway. They're practically letting me go guilt free.

But... lately I can't sleep, because even though I logically always knew this was the case when I made my choice, it's only now that I truly understand that the next time I can expect to speak to one of my parents again is when one of them dies. I've considered myself pretty much orphaned since we cut contact, but I do know they are alive somewhere. Yet we will never see each other again. We will never resolve anything. We cannot, because even if they said everything I'd always wanted to hear, I will never trust them with myself, with the power they have over me. Now I think of their faces, their smiles when they were occasionally warm, their voices, and that they will die. And I will know nothing of what they were like in the end. I will never hear them speak again, and the day I finally do, it will be for that reason.

I'm not sure what to feel about this. I just can't sleep.

#;text #tw: bad parental relationship

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iguessitsjustme · 2 days ago

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When It Rains It Pours Ep 5 Thoughts

I looked at the time and decided that not only was it not too late for me to watch the next episode, but it is in fact time to keep watching. I don't know how long this one will be but my god I hope those two escape their relationships/situationships soon. I can't keep watching my boys get hurt like this. Under the cut:

Okay I looked at the episode summary simply to learn his name. Kazuaki. I got it. And if I don't got it, that's fine. Because I just wrote it and I can always look. Perfect. Go me.

The fact that they are meeting halfway. That is a compromise. That is how relationships work. The fact that they cared to listen to the other and then decided on the compromise. My god these two are already so much better together than they are with their partners (I know he's not really Sei's partner but you know what I mean) and they haven't even gotten together yet.

Are these two gonna fuck?

Currently the opening song which slaps, but if you stick around to the end of the liveblog, I will share extra thoughts tonight. Cause I am pissed at certain characters and their fuckery and I gotta get my rants out of my system.

The TOE.

The gentle caress vs the man that pushed on it to see if it would hurt. The man that was so gentle and held it like it was a fragile thing in case it caused pain vs the man that tried to cause pain. So I'm killing the best friend, yeah?

There is a whole discussion before they actually have sex. Kazuaki is asking if it's okay to do things or not say certain things before actually getting started? He might be cheating right now but honestly, green flag. And also she deserves it. Not that anyone deserves it. But she's fictional and a bastard so she deserves it.

Telling him that he's not bad or dirty? Oh my heart. Oh my HEART.

I'm FINE.

I'm looking you dead in the eye and telling you I'm fine. It's not my fault if you don't believe me.

I NEED to talk about the music in this scene but I cannot because work has smoothed out all the wrinkles from my brain and I need to wrinkle it up again but I NEED to talk about it.

I think that's the first time I've seen Sei smile.

But also these two. They found themselves in each other. They found a piece of themselves in each other. They both knew they were missing sex but I don't think they knew how miserable they were having no one to talk to. Not truly talk to. The deep meaningful talks that connect us and bond us. Neither one of them had that with their partners. They had superficial conversations. Moments of wanting to say something but not being able to. But they found the connection they were missing in each other and I am FINE don't LOOK at me like that.

God I need to talk about the music when Sei goes home too cause my god talk about tone shift. When that bastard is on the screen the dissonance in the music is actually difficult for me to listen to. Oh it hurts my poor little fragile ears.

Do these two need to hurt me like this? Do I not suffer enough already?

Oh she looked at his phone. Good riddance. She doesn't deserve him anyway.

WHY IS THAT BASTARD ANSWERING NOT HIS PHONE. BITE BITE CHOMP CHOMP KILLING HIM WITH LASER BEAMS.

Oh so you all made me watch this and now I have to WAIT. You all wanted me to SUFFER. Biting you all too (but affectionately).

Anyway rant time.

I hate the girlfriend because was she expecting to keep our boy in limbo for the rest of all time? She wants a marriage and kids but she doesn't want to actually ever talk to her partner? She sees him as future husband and future sperm bank. But she doesn't see him.

And don't even get me started on the rat bastard "best friend." Does Sei not have a Line because he doesn't want a Line or because his friend doesn't want him to have one. How alienated is Sei from the world and from others? He doesn't really talk to anyone at work which would be his one place he can talk to people. What would have happened if that wrong email address thing hadn't happened? Why does Sei feel like a parasite in a place that should feel like his home? I have lived with my best friend before and I can tell you one thing for sure. I never felt like a parasite. The reason that place felt like home was because it was both of us. Everywhere. WHERE is Sei in that apartment? Where is he? What are his interests? What are his aesthetics? Where is my boy????

And most importantly. WHERE IS THAT GORGEOUS UMBRELLA THEY USE AS THE THUMBNAIL AND WHERE CAN I GET ONE.

I have thoughts. Many thoughts. It will take me roughly two business days to process those thoughts. Just in time for the next episode I'm told. Which will then mean that it will take me another two business days. What did they put in this show for it to do this to my brain?

I should go to bed. Maybe I will wake up with coherent thoughts. Who knows.

Also this may or may not be the last liveblog I do now that I'm caught up. We'll see how I'm feeling on..Thursday? That's the next episode right? If I don't do another liveblog, then thank y'all for reading my silly little brain thoughts. And if I do keep liveblogging then I'll see you on Thursday.

#when it rains it pours #futtara doshaburi #rae liveblogs #rae liveblogs when it rains it pours #look at that a two for one special for yall tonight

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anyamaris · 2 days ago

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Summary: When one of your closest friends asks you to be his plus one to a big event, the last thing you expected was to end up in a hotel room with a handsome stranger.

Word Count: 10893

Pairing: Fashion Journalist/Model!Hoseok x F!Reader

Trope/AU: Non Idol AU/Angst-Smut

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Adult language, vulgarity, dirty talk, protected sex, sex with a stranger, mentions of drinking alcohol, quite a bit of angst, MDNI

A/N: This is chapter one for a larger story. I couldn't help but make Wooyoung the BFF as he's my comfort muse 🤍 Thank you to @frenchkisstheabyss for beta reading this, as always your opinion is so highly valued to me I can't express it.

@pars-ley for the GORGEOUS FREAKING BANNER-also for all the back and forth, as well as beta reading for me...between you and Ty I doubt this would be coming out this quickly. Words just can't articulate what your input means.

@cafekitsune my forever divider queen, ily 💜💜💜

“So I was invited to this event…”

You glance over at your best friend, rubbing your eyes from lack of sleep.

“Oh yeah? Is it for photography?” you ask him, curious.

Wooyoung perks up, nodding as you give him your full attention.

“Yeah, one of the editors gave me two tickets so…” he looks at you sheepishly, barely able to hide his cheeky little grin.

But you know him too well at this point.

“Wooyoung…you know I don’t like things like that.” you respond, closing your laptop as you lean back in your chair.

“Come on, I need a plus one and you are my best option. It’s free food and drinks…besides…” he says, eyeing you, “You need to get out of the house.”

You give him a small frown, unconsciously reaching up to touch your messy hair that you’d thrown into a bun earlier before working.

“Well that’s just rude.” you grumble as he comes over to grab your shoulders and shake you playfully.

“Look, I’ll pick out your outfit and everything, all you need to do is show up. I’ll owe you!”

Sighing, you reluctantly agree after a bit more coaxing, already regretting inviting him over tonight.

Still, you can’t help but get swept away in his enthusiasm, and you know despite hating the social atmosphere, you want to be there to support your friend.

So that’s how you find yourself, hiding to the side in this massive ballroom, surrounded by people you don’t know, as you watch Wooyoung mingle with people from afar.

Good, I may be able to make an early exit if he’s busy…you think to yourself as you eye the doors off in the distance.

A low voice suddenly breaks you out of your fantasies of being at home, lounging in a bathrobe with no one else around.

“Are you planning your escape?” the husky voice asks, and you glance over at the man who’s taken up residence next to you.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, assessing him as he glances between you and the door.

He was long and lean, impeccably dressed in some designer or another.

Wooyoung would be able to pick it out, you think, as you eye the newcomer.

“Only if you’re thinking the same thing,” he winks, leaning back against the wall as he tilts his head at you.

You turn slightly towards him, unexpectedly not all that annoyed by the company.

“While I don’t want to slight anyone here, as I believe it’s quite an extravagant party, if you like that kind of thing…I’d much rather be lounging around in my pajamas at home.” you respond, looking down at the gown Wooyoung had plucked out of your closet earlier.

The red cocktail dress was gorgeous, ending slightly above the knee; understatedly sexy yet sophisticated.

You’d held onto it from some event or another in the last year and Wooyoung had insisted.

Your new companion's eyes drift down your frame along with yours, then at his own attire.

“I couldn’t possibly want to wear anything else but this, of course.” He announces a bit loudly, before tossing you the cutest wink and rolling his eyes slightly.

Then he leans in, whispering, “Pajamas sound heavenly…”

You cover your mouth as a small giggle escapes your lips, surprising you.

This man has me giggling like a little girl, you chastise yourself, as if I haven’t spoken to a handsome man before…

His dark eyes dance with delight as he gives you a bright smile, causing your heart to flutter a bit.

Damn, you think, what a fucking smile.

“Hoseok. But you can call me Hobi,” he offers.

Blushing, you whisper your name, enjoying how he has to lean in to catch it.

“So what brings you out tonight?” he inquires after introductions are complete.

You glance back over at Wooyoung, unsurprisingly at the center of all the attention as he regales his friends with some story or another.

You pick out a few familiar faces and a soft smile teases at your lips.

Hoseok’s eyes dart back up to yours as you turn back, and you can’t help but wonder if he was looking at your mouth.

Not the place to be getting heated over a handsome man, you think, focusing back on the topic.

Clearing your throat, you finally respond, “I’m a plus one for the peacock over there,” you gesture to Wooyoung, who is currently hanging off a mutual friend.

Hoseok glances over briefly, noting the group, then turns back to you.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Snorting, you wave a hand at him, “No...no…I couldn’t handle half of what that man puts out. He’s a bit much for me personally.”

“Ah…” he replies, seeming to relax a bit.

You stare at him curiously, wondering what his reaction is all about before asking the same.

“And you? Are you here for the event or are you an extra too?”

He gives you a shrug, letting out a soft sigh, “Here alone, for the event. Brushing shoulders and all that, but I find myself more interested in one-on-one conversations tonight.”

Your cheeks heat at the obvious flirtatious tone, finding yourself leaning ever so slightly closer to him.

“Well I’m in luck then, aren’t I? Good thing I didn’t escape yet.” You say quickly, before you can stop yourself.

Oh my god, am I flirting?

His face lights up and you can’t help but take note of the way his cheeks lift to expose the cutest dimples.

Warmth flares in the pit of your stomach and you find yourself looking closer at him; the man is even more attractive than you first realized.

Especially with that gorgeous smile.

He appears to notice your close study of him, his smile warm as he returns the favor.

“Definitely a good thing…” he repeats back to you, and you resist the urge to fan yourself at his proximity.

Clearing your throat, you redirect the conversation before you start stuttering at this stranger.

“So what is your reason for being here? Work? Or are you some kind of ambassador?”

He studies you, and you swear there’s a bit of disappointment at your attempt to talk about mundane things.

“Work…I write for a fashion magazine. Luckily it’s a lot of sitting back and people watching, so this suits me fine…but I’d much rather hear about you.” He answers, tilting his head at you in curiosity.

Suddenly, you find your cheeks heating even more, and you hope that it’s not too noticeable.

Shit…you hadn’t thought about answering that when you’d asked….

“Uh…I…I also write. Novels…fiction…” you stammer out, your voice shaky as you pray he won’t pry.

Yet, those hopes are dashed as he responds.

“What kind of fiction do you write?” he inquires, brows drawing together at your sudden discomfort.

“Smut…” You mumble at him, and he frowns, leaning closer to you.

“What was that-?” he asks.

“R-romance…” you say, heart thumping in your chest from the save.

Oh my god, did I just say smut? Good lord, this man has me flustered!

“Oh…really?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as he nods in contemplation, “So what kind of smut?”

“Well I-” but you stop mid thought, face burning as he holds your gaze.

“Fuck.…” you mumble, then curse yourself for blurting it out loud.

He laughs in delight, his soft chuckle winding you up both in embarrassment and something else a little more…primal.

“That’s quite the mouth you’ve got on you...now I’m curious what else that pretty mind can come up with.”

Something within you seems to awaken at his teasing; despite your mild uneasiness at this particular topic, you long for this to continue.

Tossing caution to the wind, you decide to answer with your true thoughts.

“You’d be surprised what this mind can conjure up when I’m all alone with a keyboard…” you whisper to him, leaning in just enough to brush your arm against his.

A thrill jolts through you as his eyes widen, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he tenses a bit at your words.

Before you can regret your comment or apologize and retreat, he’s pressing his arm firmly against yours before responding.

“Well now, you can’t say something so tempting and expect me not to ask for an example.” he whispers, his voice deepening with a sultry huskiness.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you glance around to see if anyone has noticed your interaction.

“Noone is paying us any attention. They’re all more interested in getting the attention of the elites in the room.” He whispers.

You glance back at him, his eyes locked on you as if you’re the only person in this massive room.

Oh fucking hell, you think, as he runs his knuckle over your bare upper arm.

You’ve written the word “clenching" so many times but right at this very moment, you swear you never grasped the gravity of what it was like to actually do so.

“Do you ask every woman you come across to talk dirty to you?” You tease, enjoying the way he continues to touch your skin despite the feigned shock on his face.

“Do you curse at every man who asks you to?” He retorts, biting his bottom lip as his eyes flick to your mouth.

Swallowing heavily, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to collect your thoughts.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had anyone actually ask me, let alone someone I’ve just met…” you tell him, wondering where the hell this conversation was going to lead.

His face softens slightly as he examines your features.

“I’ll be honest with you…I rarely attempt to even go beyond small talk with others, let alone…this…”

The finger caressing your arm stops suddenly as he seems to be contemplating something.

Your stomach twists at the thought of him drawing away, of losing this contact with him but your worries are alleviated as he continues speaking.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?”

He rushes to add, “To talk, of course.”

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the insane attraction to this man that causes you to laugh, but you don’t know how else to react right now.

His brows raise at the reaction, and before he can say anything else, you quickly nod at the suggestion.

“Yes…please.”

Another laugh bubbles up from your throat at his shocked reaction, as if he expected to be rejected.

Before you can regret your answer, he’s pushing off the wall, glancing around before turning to hold his hand out to you.

“I…have a room here for the night…” He offers.

“To talk, of course.” You respond.

“Of course, for…research.” he shoots back as you settle your hand in his.

A shiver courses through you as his long fingers entwine with yours, allowing him to lead you to the back of the room and down a corridor.

You spare only a glance at Wooyoung before you disappear from the event entirely, hoping he won’t mind your absence.

Your heart flutters in your ribcage as you ponder why in the hell you’re going somewhere alone with a man you just met, but all of your reason seems to have fled tonight.

Yet you can’t deny that this is much more interesting than sitting around in your bathrobe, writing about it.

Your stomach is tight with anticipation and anxiety as the trip from the hall to the elevators then to the corridor to his room is silent.

The motion of his thumb caressing your fingers is all that keeps you from bolting back into the safety of the party, but you know that you would regret that fully if you did.

He produces a keycard and leads you into his room, and as the door shuts behind you, your mind is already made up.

Whatever happens, happens.

It has been ages since you have even been on a date, let alone anything physical…

And maybe this is just to talk, as he said…

His room is a suite, with an open-plan sitting area, a small couch and coffee table, the large king size bed looming in the background.

The long ceiling to floor windows are wide open, curtains pulled back to display the city lit up brightly below.

He leads you to the couch, reluctantly releasing your hand as he looks up at you expectantly.

You hesitate a moment before seating yourself beside him, clasping your hands together to stop him from seeing your tremble.

Mistaking your gesture, he rushes to fill the silence.

“If you get uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to say as much. The last thing I want to do is-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. I mean, at least not in a bad way.” you blurt out, cutting him off.

You swear if your cheeks heat any more than they already have tonight, your skin is going to melt off.

His face lights up as he places a hand over his chest, letting out an audible breath.

“Thank goodness, I...I really do want to get to know you better.”

You glance around once more before attempting to get more comfortable on the couch, turning towards him as you cross your legs.

You don’t fail to notice how his eyes dart to your legs as the skirt rides up slightly and the flush that’s visibly creeping up his neck.

Oh this is so dangerous, you think, yet it’s also the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in ages.

He angles himself towards you as you brush your skirt over your knee, trying to hide your smile as he quickly averts his eyes.

“So…do you enjoy writing?” he asks softly, as he leans back against the cushions, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and props his chin on his palm.

Taking the cue, you also try to relax back into the comfy sofa as you finally give him your full attention.

“I do…quite a lot. I failed to mention that I am also an editor for other writers, but I split my time between that and my own work.”

He just holds your gaze as you speak, seemingly fascinated with each word you utter.

It was quite the thrill to have someone so close, so interested…and so gorgeous.

“Do you enjoy your work?” You return, not wanting to only talk about yourself.

He takes a moment, glancing off as if to ponder the question.

“Hmm…at times. It can take over my life sometimes, honestly. The amount of research and travel involved sometimes can be overwhelming. But…” he lets his eyes drift back to you, lips curling softly as he pauses, “sometimes I get to meet interesting people.”

Your stomach flips as his tone drops, sensing that constant underlying tension drawing you closer to him before you can stop yourself.

It’s as if each moment requires an inch to be removed from between you.

“It’s quite the opposite of my work then,” you laugh breathily, “I spend most of my time imagining encounters…like this…”

Your words trail off as the back of your neck heats, already wincing at your comment.

His eyes widen slightly, brows raising as a smile dances across his lips.

“Oh? And…if you were to be writing … this specific encounter…what would happen next?”

Your breath hitches, mind racing at the question, at the implication, at where this could be leading…

“Well…I suppose I’d have to check my notes, answer some…questions first before proceeding.” You finally reply, enjoying the gleam of interest in his eyes.

“What kinds of questions?” His soft yet hoarse tone has you clenching your thighs together, “Perhaps I can help answer them.”

Good lord, this man is making me lose all of my sanity.

“Well…” you take a moment to think, biting your lower lip, “first, has he been drinking?”

“Not a drop.”

“Mmm..then…does he always bring unfamiliar women back to his hotel room?”

His brow twitches, his gaze drifting to your mouth, then back up.

“This is definitely his first time doing anything so bold.”

Your heart races at this admission, spiralling your senses further into losing all rationale.

“Well, for…her…she’s never done anything as daring either so…I’d have to ask why this man even spoke to her to begin with; what is it he is looking for?”

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as his eyes hood over, letting his gaze drift openly over you before answering.

“At first, he was curious about why such a beautiful woman was all alone, hiding among the plants at such an event…but after speaking to her, he couldn’t help but long to know more. Away from all of the eyes lingering on her, so his were the only ones who could study her more closely.”

Your entire body tightens at the compliment, the quivers from being so tense threatening to give away how much he’s affecting you.

“And does he…regret the decision?” you can’t stop your voice from wavering at the question.

He brings his hand up to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, then he traces his knuckle down your cheek.

“Quite the contrary, he’s as mesmerized by her mind as he is by her beauty.”

At his touch, your lips part, and it takes everything within you to not let out the most wanton moan at the simple contact.

“I’m curious to know why she allowed herself to be all alone with this man, despite having all these questions.” he follows up, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Feeling emboldened by his answers, you lean in closer until you swear you can feel his breath tickling your lips.

“Perhaps she’s curious as to why this handsome man chose her to speak to…and what it is that's so tempting about him.”

His hand slips up your jaw, opening to cup your cheek as his breathing noticeably hitches.

“She’s tempted?” He asks, barely audible.

Your heart trembles, stomach swirling with butterflies as he dips his head ever closer so that you can almost feel the brush of his lips.

As if he’s waiting for you to be the one to close the final gap.

You give an almost imperceptible nod, your own hand reaching up to flick back a lock of his hair before tracing your fingertips along his gorgeous cheekbones.

“She can’t stop thinking about what her particular shade of lipstick will look like covering his sexy-” you breathe out.

Before you can continue, he lets out an impatient little grunt as he grasps the back of your neck, pulling your mouth against his.

Your fingers slip down his throat and you can feel his pulse beating quickly against your thumb as it rests on his neck.

Your lips part eagerly for him as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth, and finally the whimper you’ve been holding back bubbles up out of you.

This only urges him on as he nips your bottom lip, sucking gently as he slowly guides you onto your back.

Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams as he deepens the kiss, using his legs to part your thighs.

Your fingers delve into his hair, clutching onto the strands as he breaks from your mouth to pepper kisses along your jaw.

“Please-” you say, not exactly knowing what you’re asking for but he complies anyhow, slipping his hand between you and tugging up the skirts of your dress.

He halts momentarily and concern suddenly twists up your insides as he rests his cheek against your collarbone.

“Is something-?” you manage through your throaty breaths.

“No-no-” he interjects, looking up at you as his palm grazes against your naked inner thigh, “-I just…want this to last…and you’ve already got me-”

He doesn't bother to finish the sentence, shuddering against you as his fingertips slip beneath your panties.

A wave of heat washes over you as he lets out a long, deep moan.

A confusing mix of bashfulness and exhilaration threatens to overwhelm you from just the pads of his fingers teasing over your drenched folds.

You can’t look away from his stunning face, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips part to let out the most delicious little noises as he explores you.

Doing your best to hold back your own whimpers, you clutch at the couch cushion above you as your fingers cling to the strands of his hair in your hand.

“Fuck-you’re killing me with how wet you already are…” he breathes against the skin of your chest, “Don’t hold back, I want to hear you-”

Your hips lift as his fingers part your lower lips, skimming upwards agonizingly slow until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Mmmm-yes…” he murmurs as you finally cry out as he rolls your clit gently between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s it…you like that?”

You nod frantically as he focuses intently on drawing out your pleasure, each tiny motion of his deft fingers causing your body to arch and shake.

“Yes, oh god-” You finally whimper, “Hoseok-”

He draws away from you slightly, angling himself so that he’s hovering above in order to look down at you.

“Talk to me, baby-” He coaxes, his eyes flicking down to take in the sight of you spread wide open with your panties pushed aside.

“So good, oh god…don’t stop-” you blurt out, scrambling to articulate the most basic words in the haze of desire you’re trapped in.

You release the cushion you're gripping, grasping at the back of his neck, then tugging at his suit jacket as he looks between your face and his fingers teasing at you.

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want-” he encourages, his honeyed cheeks flushing with heat as his gaze locks on your cunt.

The rasp of his voice has you clenching tightly and he gasps softly at the sight, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment.

“No, no no…don’t you dare…” he hums, his dark eyes locking on yours as he pulls his hand from you to grip your wrists and tug them gently away from your face.

Your breathing is coming shallow and hard as he pins you down, searching your face before leaning in to press his lips to yours once more.

Your heart beats in your throat, grateful for the momentary change of pace as he kisses you tenderly.

You take the opportunity to grasp at his jacket and push it off his shoulders, and he helps you remove it, tossing it off to the side without parting from you.

He slides his hands behind your back, blindly seeking your zipper and finally he lets out a happy sigh into your mouth as he finds it and tugs it down.

It’s awkward for a moment as you lean up, doing your best to allow him access to unzip you fully, then tug at his tie and the buttons of his shirt.

“Fuck this.” he finally says, propping himself up to stand, then tug you up off the couch.

You stumble a little before he pulls you close, his mouth already on yours as he slides your dress off of you, allowing it to drop to the floor.

You return to plucking at the buttons of his shirt as he walks you both backwards, your dress left behind in a heap as his hands slip down to your ass to squeeze your cheeks greedily.

“Rip it off-” he demands between kisses, one hand sliding up your spine to pluck at the clasp of your bra.

You comply immediately, yanking at his shirt without a second thought, a satisfying tearing sound quickly drowned out by both of your gasping breaths.

You waste no time in running your fingers along his lean torso, his skin raising against your palms as you slip them down his stomach.

He inhales in a sharp hiss as you boldly drop your hand to grope his erection through his pants.

“Off-” he groans, doing his best to guide you back to the large bed behind him without bowling you both over.

You nod as you feel your bra finally loosen, shrugging out of it quickly before tearing at his belt, then the button and zipper of his pants.

The back of his knees hit the bed and you use the momentum to push him onto it, grabbing at the pants and yanking them off.

As you throw them onto the floor, you pause to admire the ridiculously gorgeous man before you, clad in only a pair of boxers that are tented by his quite obvious arousal.

Am I really doing this? Fuck yes I’m doing this, you think wildly as he reaches for you.

“Come here,” he pants, grabbing you behind your thighs to pull you onto the bed with him.

You can’t help but let out a strangled laugh as you tumble onto him, tits smacking him right in the face as you land on top of him.

Before you can even voice an apology, he’s latching onto your nipple as he scoots you both up the bed.

Your legs entwine with his as you grip his hair, his stiff cock grinding into your inner thigh as he rolls you onto your back.

A cry escapes you as he sucks harshly, drawing back to look at the raised bud before he uses the tip of his tongue to circle slowly as he looks up at you.

A rush of warmth floods your thighs as you feel his body press into you and you gasp as his dick slips from the opening of his boxers to connect with your naked flesh.

“Fuck, fuck-” he chokes out as you push them down, looking between you as he wiggles free off them.

He sits back on his heels, yanking your panties down your hips, and you raise your legs to help him remove them.

“These are mine now.” he says, bunching them up in his hand before bringing them to his nose to inhale deeply.

The reaction to this has your entire body flushing with heat and a strangled whimper rips from your throat before he’s pushing your legs open to settle between them.

He reaches over to place your panties on his bedside table before returning to hover over you.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers as you clutch at his shoulders, looking down between you as he rocks his hips to rub the underside of his cock along your damp slit.

You arch your back at the contact, moaning desperately as the head rubs against your clit over and over.

“Hoseok-wait-protection-” you gasp out, placing your open palm on his chest before you can lose yourself completely.

“Fuck, right, yeah-” he blinks, eyes wide as his breathes heavily, then he’s yanking open the drawer in the sidetable to dig through until he finds a familiar foil packet.

You relax slightly at this, one less worry as he rips it open with his teeth and then pulls out the condom.

“Here-” you offer, taking it from him eagerly in order to put it on as he props himself above you.

You admire how pretty his curved cock is as you roll it down him, looking back up at him as you wrap your fingers around him to stroke him slowly.

His eyes close at the motion, thrusting into your hand before he’s dropping down onto you and his tongue is in your mouth once more.

“Tell me you want me,” he moans against your lips, his voice shaking with need as the tip dips between nudging your clit and teasing at your aching hole.

“Please, Hoseok,” you moan out, wiggling beneath him to urge him to finally give in to you, “Fuck, please, I want you so fucking badly, it hurts-”

“Yeah?” he whispers, using his thighs to push your legs further open, “Say it again, say my name, beg me-”

“Hoseok, please, oh god, please…fuck…I want-I need-!” you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you writhe beneath him.

His breath catches at your pleas and he pushes forward slowly at first, but as you let out a long, drawn out moan he drives himself deep within you.

You clench around him and he brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his heavy breathing just heightening the pleasure as he pulls back just to thrust back into you.

“Baby, you feel so fucking incredible,” he hums in your ear as you wrap your legs around his waist, tilting your hips as he sets a steady rhythm.

Your breath keeps catching with each thrust, and every single nerve ending in your body is on fire as he coaxes the most obscene noises from you.

“Hoseok-” you whine, a soft keening noise underlying every word you speak, “Harder-feels so good…please…fuck-!”

A pleased groan rumbles in his chest as he fists his hand in your hair, gently tipping your head back to press his lips against your throat.

The wet, slapping sounds of your bodies meeting makes your cheeks flare with heat, but you could care less right now as he continues to ply you with breathy questions.

“Right there, baby? Yeah?” he asks as you gasp, rolling his hips so his pelvis grinds against your clit, “You sound so fucking good with my cock deep inside of you-”

A string of unintelligible curses leave your lips and you can feel him smile against your neck as he continues to repeat the motion over and over.

“That’s it, let me hear every filthy word while I fuck your pretty little pussy,” he croons in a raspy tone, pulling away to look at you.

Strands of damp hair cling to his forehead as he gazes down upon you, his pupils entirely blown out as he drips sweat onto your tits.

You’ve never seen anyone or anything so absolutely sinful, and your body arches off the bed as an orgasm rips through you unexpectedly.

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, yes, fuck, come for me-” Hoseok gasps as you clamp around him, gritting his teeth as he struggles to keep up the tempo.

The walls echo your coarse wails, voice breaking as you attempt to reclaim your airways.

He’s unrelenting, however, as he takes this cue to slip one of his hands under your ass to roll onto his back and settle you onto top of him.

His hands grip your ass as you steady yourself, grasping onto his shoulders as he guides your hips against him.

You let out a shaky laugh as a range of emotions wash over you; surprise, self-consciousness, euphoria all twisted up together.

One of Hoseok’s hands leaves your ass to slip up your side and settle under the weight of your breast, his eyes shuttering as you begin to move on top of him.

“Look at you…so fucking beautiful,” he groans as he palms your breast, grazing his thumb over your nipple as it tightens in response.

His reaction spurs you on, discarding any lingering insecurity as you begin to ride him properly.

He throws his head back with a long moan as you bounce on his cock, and the overwhelming need to feel his tongue has you slipping two fingers into his mouth.

He doesn’t disappoint as he immediately sucks on them, his gaze locked onto you as he swirls his tongue around the pads of your fingers.

You’ve only ever written something so bold in your fics, yet here you are, living out the most erotic moment of your life.

His fingers dig into your flesh, guiding your body against his as the tension in your core throbs and coils.

“Talk to me, baby,” he insists as your fingers trace along his lower lip, nipping gently as he stares up at you.

“So hard…to think…” you manage, your body ablaze as he tweaks one nipple, then the other.

His dark eyes are gleaming with delight as each touch, each movement elicits the most pornographic noises you’ve ever made.

“Is my cock making you lose your mind, baby?”

Your body jerks as his hand slips down from your tits to where you’re joined, the tips of his fingers teasing over your overly sensitive clit.

You nod furiously, gasping as he starts circling slowly, drawing out a prolonged wail as you clench in pulses around him.

“You’re making me-a complete mess-” you gasp out as he continues to add pressure with his fingers.

“Make a fucking mess, baby, I can feel you soaking my thighs, that’s it-” he encourages, watching you so intently that he leans up, his eyes glinting feverishly.

“Hoseok-god, I want to see you lose control…want to feel you come-hear you moan for me, cover me, all over me-” you babble, just letting whatever thought comes into your mind escape out of your mouth.

“All over you, baby? Is that what you want?” he breathes out, his voice shaking enough to let you know he’s getting close.

You’re right there with him, nodding as he sits up fully, grabbing your hips to urge you towards your building climax.

“Come for me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want, come on, that’s it-” he hums, brushing your lips with his as he bounces you in his lap.

Your entire body shudders as he bites your bottom lip, groaning loudly as you cling to him and everything within you crumbles.

His name falls from your lips over and over, breaking off in hoarse cries as you tremble in his arms.

His groans build in volume, breathing coming quicker as he holds back enough to let you completely finish before he’s tipping you backwards, pulling out and yanking off the condom as he positions himself on his knees between your legs.

“Come, come, come-!” you demand, aftershocks still causing your body to shake as he wraps his hand around his cock and jerks himself into completion all over your stomach and breasts.

You grip the bed above you, trying to catch your breath as sticky ropes of cum spurt from him, reveling in the obscene sight this must make.

His body shudders and twitches as he slows his movements, his fingers slowly milking every last drop onto your naked skin before he collapses on top of you.

Your fingers immediately tangle into his hair, your chest heaving along with his as you both attempt to recover.

Your combined panting finally slows enough to let silence fill the room, your eyes fluttering closed as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

Peace washes over you, and you barely register the passage of time until you feel Hoseok pull away gently, not even opening your eyes as you pout at the loss.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers softly before he slips away, and you hear the rush of water from the other room.

Must be cleaning himself up…you think idly, but you’re shaken from the thought as a warm cloth drifts over your skin a few moments later.

You open your eyes slightly to peek at him and your heart leaps into your throat at the sight; he’s seated on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you up and giving you a warm smile.

“Shh, relax,” he murmurs, shaking his head as you attempt to cover yourself with your arms.

You shiver at how sweet he’s being, at how his eyes linger on each part of your naked body as he takes his time with the cloth.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be shy now…” he teases as you cover your face with your hands to hide your blush.

You feel him get off the bed, following his movements around the room through your fingers as he wanders back into the bathroom, then sets about picking up your discarded clothing.

Sighing inwardly as he slips his boxers back on, you feel your heart flutter as he picks up your dress delicately and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs.

This is my cue, I suppose…you think, sitting up to toss your legs over the side of the bed.

As you stand and look around for your bra, his voice draws your attention.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tilting his head at you as he smooths his hand over the fabric of your dress.

“Um…finding my…clothing?” The statement comes out as a question, confused as to why he is asking.

You turn to spot the panties on the nightstand, but as you reach for him, he closes the distance between you and grabs your wrist lightly before you can retrieve them.

“I told you..” he hums, bringing your knuckles to his lips, “Those are mine now.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush over your skin, and his lashes flutter as he slips an arm around you.

Swallowing heavily, you try to refocus your mind on reason but this man has already got your emotions scattering as he pulls you close.

“I..I figured that was my hint to leave…” you whisper, glancing at the dress, then back to him.

His face is unreadable as he studies you quietly for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth as he looks into yours.

“I won’t stop you if you do, if that's what you want, but…” he trails off, the arm around you tightening slightly, almost…posessively.

“But?” you echo quietly, longing for him to say the words you wish to hear.

He hesitates briefly, then leans in to nudge your nose with his.

“But…I’d really like it if you stayed with me.” he finally admits, and your stomach does a complete somersault in joy.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” he repeats, as if he needs to double check.

“Yes, I’d…really like that too.”

His face lights up with that gorgeous smile for only a moment, then his lips are capturing yours in a searing kiss as he urges you back onto the bed.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you up all night…” he whispers seductively, removing his boxers once more before burying his face in your-

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Wooyoung complains, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Eh? What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the memories of that night, focusing on your friend.

It has been two days since your encounter and you still find yourself wandering around in a daze, idly staring off in remembrance.

What kind of school girl hell crush is this? you think for the nth time, shaking yourself from your fantasies.

“Did you even hear what I said? What’s got you so lost in thought, hmmm?” He prods, bumping your shoulder with his, “Or should I say…who?”

“Stop, you’re going to make me spill.” You chastise him, grabbing a napkin to wipe at the drip from your full coffee cup.

“You need to be spilling, cause something is definitely up with you.” Wooyoung’s eyes narrow at you, always the prying little pest.

But I adore him, you think with an exaggerated sigh.

“I'll tell you…. eventually…maybe…” you try to deflect, but he’s not having it.

“Who is he? Where did you meet? What’s his name? Do I know him?”

The questions are fired at you like bullets and you wave at him as he leans in closer to interrogate you.

“None of your business, nosy.”

You push his face away, chuckling at the ridiculous pout he gives you.

Your phone chimes, signalling an incoming text message, and Woo immediately goes to grab for it.

“Hey!” You exclaim, snatching it up and holding it close to your chest before giving him a little smack on his arm.

“When do you even go out to-?” he starts up again after a long sip of his coffee.

Before he can continue, you glance at the clock.

“Don’t you have an appointment?”

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry-gotta run. See ya, doll!” he says, taking a last sip, then planting a harsh kiss on your cheek before dashing to the entryway to toss on his shoes.

“This conversation isn’t over!” he calls out as the door closes behind him.

You wait a moment longer, making sure he’s actually gone before letting out a weary sigh.

“Nosy ass.” you grumble, then you finally look at your phone in anticipation.

Hope turns to disappointment as you read the text from one of your novelists, talking about an appointment later this week.

“Ah well…” you hum, responding quickly before switching to the text exchange you really want to be having.

You’d intended to leave the next morning in order to not overstay your welcome; but when Hoseok had come sauntering out of the bathroom, freshly showered with damp hair hanging in his face and a simple white hotel towel slung around his lean waist ... .well….

You stand and walk to your apartment window, staring off as you replay the multiple ways his tongue invaded you, all the delicious ways he-

Shaking your head, you snap back to reality, fanning yourself from the recollection.

You’d finally managed to leave around midday, after tiring yourselves out and a nice, comforting nap in his arms.

He’d stayed true to his word and kept your panties, hiding them behind his back when you attempted to reclaim them.

A goofy smile plays over your lips, unconsciously tapping them with your fingers as you think about his stolen kisses even as he teased you.

For some reason, you felt no shame walking out of there and hailing a cab home sans underwear.

You’d exchanged numbers, and honestly you hadn’t expected much from him, given the circumstances of your tryst.

Yet you’d received a text from him not even two hours after leaving him.

You can’t help but reread the little bits of conversation you’ve had since then, chewing your thumbnail as you scroll through.

“Did you get in safely?”

“I can still smell you on my fingers…”

You let out a small giggle, turning only to stumble over a chair that you swear wasn’t there a moment ago.

You wander to your desk, sitting and rubbing your knee as you read the last exchange from yesterday.

“So, when can I see you again?” He’d texted that morning.

“When would you like to?” You’d answered.

“Right now, if I could…but unfortunately I have obligations that I can’t get out of.”

“Then why don’t you message me when you have time, I’m not going anywhere.” You’d responded, heart soaring that he was even considering seeing you again.

“The moment I have free time, I’d like to take you on a proper date…if that’s something

you’d be interested in?”

You stare at the question as a smile plays over your lips, resisting the urge to kick your feet like a teenager, but it’s tough not to.

“Rushing into things, aren’t you?” you’d teased and he hadn’t disappointed with his response.

“That’s not what you were saying the other night when I had that sexy mouth screaming my name.”

You toss your phone, ears burning as you clear your throat, looking around as if you’re not the only person sitting around in your pajamas in your own apartment.

“Work! I have to work….” you scold yourself, unable to chase away the silly grin as you try to concentrate on getting your tasks sorted.

A week passes before you are able to solidify a time to meet up with him.

It’s the way he asks that has you tearing apart your wardrobe frantically.

“I need to see you, or I’m going lose my mind.”

Unfortunately, he only has an hour to spare for lunch, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to see him once more.

It had taken an ungodly amount of time to find the right thing to wear, and you lament the cleaning you’re going to have to do once you return home.

It looks like your closet has a bomb go off inside of it as you rush out to meet him.

The way he smiles at you as you spot him in the small cafe chases away any negative thoughts as you rush over to join him.

It’s a simple lunch, and before you can do so much as move beyond simple small talk, his phone alarm is going off.

“I promise I’ll make more time for you, gorgeous.” He whispers as he places a kiss on your cheek, his fingers skimming along yours as he parts from you.

The door chimes as he makes his exit and you’re left with your heart pitter pattering at seeing him in the flesh again.

I’ve got it so bad.

You take the time to grab some things, taking the opportunity while you’re already out so you don’t have to go out again unnecessarily.

As you’re unlocking your door, your phone chimes.

“It took everything to not just say fuck it and spend the day with you. Soon, baby.”

You spend the rest of the day with a stupid grin on your face and once more you’re delighted that you live alone so no one can see how foolish you look.

Your friends have definitely started to notice.

Wooyoung makes sense, yet apparently even some of the others have picked up on the change in you.

Hoseok has kept up a constant stream of contact, with some of the late night calls taking a racy turn.

You’re not quite sure what it is this relationship is, but you have zero concern that you’re attracted to one another.

He wasn’t lying when he’d mentioned how busy his job kept him the first night you’d met.

He is constantly on his way to or from somewhere or other, sometimes even out of town or even the country.

Yet, he always makes it a point to send you sweet messages, asking about your day, telling you how much he longs to see you again.

Despite the slow, staggered way this was developing, the constant reminders that he was out there, thinking of you has become the highlight of every day.

No longer can you refuse to admit how much you look forward to his daily texts or calls.

How you stare at your screen, pining for his messages.

That you’ve even made a special tone just for him in your phone.

Far, far too gone on a man you’ve barely spent any time with outside of the bedroom.

You’ve managed to get little pockets of time together, brief coffee meet ups or small windows of time where he’s passing nearby and you can pop out to see him for a moment.

He’s even come by just to plant a kiss on your lips, only to run off moments later.

Even after two months, you’ve only been able to see one another a handful of times.

The one time you’d gotten longer than an hour or two, he’d insisted that he wanted to take you out and the intention was there.

Yet, when he showed up at your place, you’d both been stripping each other within minutes of his arrival.

You still can’t look at your table without being reminded of how he’d had you bent over it, plowing into you as his fingers worked magic over your entire body.

He’d stayed over, but unfortunately, he’d been out the door before the sun had even peeked past the horizon, with promises to message you later and a steamy goodbye kiss.

Only a few visits here and there, yet all over your place were memories of him.

His lips, his raspy voice whispering your name, his agile fingers…

It had taken a half a week for you to finally clean the window where he’d had your body pressed, tits squished firmly and handprints marking yet another place he’d ravaged you.

Unfortunately, you’d had to wash the small blanket you keep on the couch…between his tongue driving you to the point of overstimulation and his own contributions from your efforts…

The man really did love making a complete mess of you…and all over you.

He was insatiable, and you spare a thought for your poor neighbors after the noises that he’d had coming out of your mouth.

Two months and you still aren’t sure what the hell your relationship is.

Each time you’ve thought to ask, you’ve chickened out; the last thing you wanted was to come across as needy and selfish.

At least he’d mentioned that he should be getting a lot more time soon; apparently they were having some issues at his magazine and he’d been putting in extra time to help them out.

Though, you haven’t pried into what kind of work it is, and if it’s related to writing or something else.

That he took the small bits of time he has to seek you out speaks worlds about where this seems to be heading.

“Missing you…I think I left my necklace at your place last time…will you check for me?”

You’d rushed immediately into your room, and sure enough, the gleam of a thin silver chain was looking right back at you from your nightstand.

You’d admired it plenty of times when he was wearing it, especially the sweet little silver music note dangling from it.

“It’s here, did you need me to bring it to you? Or did you want to stop by for it?”

“Hold onto it for me? I’ll get it next time I see you…”

As you were typing out a response, he’d sent another that had you all but falling from your chair.

“On second thought, why don’t you put it on…then when I see you again, I’ll rip everything from your delicious body except that. Fuck, baby…just the thought of you wearing only a piece of me has me rock hard.”

You wish you could have been a fly on the wall when he’d received the pic of you lying in bed, sheets draped covertly over just enough to not be straight up porn, clad in only his necklace.

“You mean this necklace?”

His response was almost instant.

“You’re killing me…yes, just like that. Fuck, I miss you. Everything about you.”

The playfulness was immediately replaced by a soft, warm feeling at his words, and you found yourself longing to just breathe in his scent again, sooner than later.

You had gently skimmed the charm on the necklace as it lay on your skin, missing him just as much, if not more.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t seen him since that heated little conversation.

The time between texts had become longer, the messages shorter; mostly just updates about being busy and checking in to see how you were.

That’s why when he hadn’t responded after your last exchange via text, informing you about going out of town yet again, you hadn’t thought much of it.

It was only one morning, feeling more agitated than normal that you realized it had been four days with your last “good morning” message left on unread.

He’s just busy, you admonish yourself, don’t be greedy.

Yet, when another three days pass with nothing but silence, you can feel the creeping doubts bleeding into everything you’re doing.

You’ve only sent one more text asking if everything is alright, but there was no response to that either.

Did something happen to him?

How would I even know?

Before you can even think about it you’re pulling up google, only stopping yourself as you realize that you’re about to start stalking the man.

Stop it, don’t be that kind of woman.

It’s only in an exchange while you’re out at a club that you finally build up the courage to ask after him in a roundabout way.

“You guys know alot of people in the fashion world right?” You drop into a random conversation, “You’d hear about things if something happened to someone, right? Like, some kind of …incident?”

Murmurs of agreement meet you in reply, and you nod, drawing a look from Wooyoung.

“Absolutely, nothing is quiet for long in this industry,” Jimin says offhandedly, and you have to accept that it was highly unlikely that he was in any kind of trouble.

Relief washes over you at that thought, but another, darker feeling was starting to grow in the pit of your stomach.

It’s fine.

“What’s up?” Jungkook asks from beside you, setting down his drink, “Worried about something?”

You wave your hand at your friends, especially the suspicious glances from Wooyoung.

“No, just curious how chatty that world is.” You fake a laugh, raising your drink to your lips to cover your horrible acting.

“Don’t worry, Wooyoung is quite the gossip, if something is going on, we’d all know.” Tae offers, drawing out a round of laughter.

He’s right, while you’ve not uttered a word about any connection to Hoseok, you’ve heard his name from these guys a few times in passing regarding their work.

Each time, you’ve gotten that little thrill of knowing that you have this secret between just the two of you, yet now there’s this smoldering ember of doubt to go along with that excitement.

Why hasn’t he responded then?

You slap on a neutral face and do your best to enjoy the outing, clinking glasses with Jungkook and Jimin before joining in the fun.

Yet the gnawing feeling that if nothing is wrong…

Then why haven’t you heard from him?

“Stop lying to me.”

You groan, not wanting to look at the man pestering you right at this moment.

“The others have noticed as well, you know. You’re not a very good liar.”

“Wooyoung, nothing is-”

His sudden stomping has you glancing away from your computer screen, jumping as the man in question slams his hands on the desk beside you as he leans over to glare at you.

It’s a rare sight to see Wooyoung actually upset, yet here he was, those dark eyes blazing with worry and exasperation.

“Stop. Lying. To. Me.” He bites off each word, jaw clenched tightly.

You’ve been fighting off the nagging feeling that Hoseok has just lost interest in the days following your outing.

Wooyoung’s sudden outburst has you finally acknowledging that maybe…just maybe…that horrible fear could be a reality.

Opening your mouth with the intent to allay his concern, a sob escapes your throat instead of words.

You clamp your hand over your mouth, cursing your emotions as your eyes begin to sting.

“Oh, doll…” Wooyoung immediately sinks to his knees, turning your chair towards him as you fight against the floodgates.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m just worried.” He soothes, cupping your face as he uses his thumbs to wipe away the villainous tears that start to leak from your eyes.

He gathers you up in his arms, rubbing your back as you finally break down, clenching a handful of his shirt as you finally let go.

“Something is going on, isn’t it?” he whispers softly, and you can only nod against his shoulder.

He lets out a sigh, humming gently as he continues to comfort you.

“I know getting details is like prying teeth from you, but…I need to know….are you pregnant?”

You hiccup, shaking your head immediately, bleating out a sad little, “no.”

“Good, good…that’s good…you’re not…sick or anything?”

You manage another shake of your head.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, letting the sounds of you weeping fill the void for a moment before he continues.

“What’s this asshole's name?” He finally inquires.

“He’s-not-an-asshole-” you choke out.

“There it is. I knew it.” he hums, sighing wearily.

You slap at him weakly, trying to pull away but he just holds you close, shushing you as he pets your hair.

“Well, that’s subjective, doll. He’s making you cry, so he’s an asshole in my book.”

You babble something incoherent to try to disagree, but he merely tuts at you.

“For someone who writes novels, you’re not convincing me with your words, doll. Look, you’re ruining my shirt with your snot, and you sound like a drunk turkey.”

You hit him again, this time a little harder but you can’t help but snort at the ridiculous insult between your pitiful blubbering.

“Idiot. Jerk.” you grumble, calming down a bit and he finally loosens his hold, drawing back slightly to look closely at you.

“Don’t, I’m all icky.” You complain, turning your head and grabbing for your box of tissues.

“Yeah you are; nasty.” he teases and you just toss him a steely glance as you wipe at your nose.

“Hate you,” you grump, trying to clean yourself up.

“You love me, don’t lie. I told you, you’re bad at it.” He said, rising to his feet to cross his arms at you.

“Whatever.” You huff, then look up at him in apprehension, “I’m not talking about it.”

He purses his lips at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he studies you.

“Fine…I’ll drop it for now, but if you need to, talk to one of us, alright? That’s all I’m asking. I don’t like seeing you tearing yourself apart for some guy. I don’t know your reasons for keeping him a secret from us, but -” he stops, eyes narrowing.

“He’s not married, is he?”

“Wooyoung!” You grab the box of tissues and throw them at him, but he just dodges it easily, “You really think that I could-that I would-?!”

You can’t help but sputter unintelligibly, offended.

“No, not you but…whatever, fine, I just can’t help but care, alright?”

You let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“It’s not even something bad, I just haven’t been sleeping and I’m trying to meet deadlines..” you gesture to the computer, “I’m sure that’s just making me overly emotional. I’m alright.”

He stays silent, considering your argument as his phone dings with a message.

“Get lost, I have work to do,” you wave him off, turning back to your computer.

His answering grunt lets you know that he’s checking his phone and you try to refocus as he grumbles about always having something to deal with.

“I’ll be checking on you, or I’ll send someone-” he threatens as he makes his way out.

“Yeah yeah….and hey…Wooyoung?” you call out before he can close the door behind him.

“Hm?” he turns to look at you, pausing in the doorway.

“Thank you.” You give him a grateful smile, and then he’s grinning, bouncing out down the hall as the door closes.

Now if you could convince yourself that you are completely fine, you can hopefully get some of your projects ticked off your list.

You barely notice how often your eyes drift to look at your phone, clinging to that last vestige of hope that it’ll light up with a much anticipated text.

Perhaps it’s because you’re so used to creating imaginary worlds, shaping fiction out of nothing but your fantasies.

Regardless of what keeps you holding on, there’s that small, almost invisible thread you cling to.

He’s come to some kind of harm, he’s in a coma and any day he will wake up; his first call will be you, and-

No, no, he’s stranded on some desert island, having gone out to sea for some unknown reason but he’s been cut off from-

What if he’s hit his head in some foreign land, and he has amnesia-

Aliens abducted-

If you can think of it, your irrational thoughts grasp onto it eagerly, and by the time you’ve spun up some insane story, you’ve kept that little glimmer of hope alive.

Ridiculous, but it's getting you past it.

Right?

You’ve gone so long without hearing from him, you find yourself not rushing to your phone each time it has a message or call; your life has returned to the routine you had prior to that fateful night.

Yet….

Yet.

There will be those moments, those tiny little glimpses of memories that spiral you right back into that headspace.

Your fingers graze the silver chain hiding beneath your hoodie, the one keepsake you have to remind you it was all real.

At least while it lasted.

Maybe he will come back for it, at the very least?

Your phone dings and you push away from your desk, glancing at the clock to see that it’s well past midday.

Your stomach rumbles and you pat it as you check your messages.

“Hey, our friend is singing tonight at a show, you should come with us and check it out. If you’re done being a grump ass!”

You just cluck your tongue at Wooyoung’s text, sighing as you open the fridge and are greeted with empty shelves.

Shit, shopping…yeah I should do that.

You glance at your outfit and momentarily think about changing, but you just shrug.

Who cares if you’re wearing baggy jogging pants and a hoodie?

It’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

Not anymore, your mind tosses at you but you tamp down the errant thought.

You reply to Wooyoung, asking for a rain check as you slip on your shoes and make your way to the local grocery.

A little bit of back and forth with him, then getting prodded in your group chat has you laughing at the guys as you grab a few items to get you through the next few days.

Your eyes are locked on the phone, only glancing up to make sure you’re not going to run into anything as you follow the conversation.

“Next time, he’s got a few shows coming up. He’s good looking too!” Taehyung adds to the discussion.

“Don’t say that in front of him, we’ll never hear the end of it.” Jungkook retorts.

“As bad as Wooyoung?” You are typing out as you hear the sound of a car horn, drawing your attention away from your phone for a moment.

The amused smile freezes on your face as you look up, unable to miss the familiar face staring back at you.

You just stand in shock, people crossing the street all around you as you cling to the bag in your arms.

There he is, those gorgeous cheekbones, that honey skin, that brilliant smile.

You can only gawk in misery at the truth laid out before you.

Your heart trembles in anguish as the last thread that was clinging on for dear life finally loses its hold.

Of all the places you thought you’d see him again, of all the scenarios…

Seeing his picture plastered on an advertisement for a designer brand wasn’t in your rolodex of possibilities.

The massive ad seems to grow larger, as if it’s going to suffocate you.

You’re jostled back to your senses as people grumble at you, questioning randomly why you’re in their way and you grip your bag tightly as you duck your head and rush back home.

By the time you’re slamming your apartment door, as if you can flee from the internal distress twisting your guts.

You mindlessly shuffle into the kitchen, staring off blankly as you think about how amazing he looked, how absolutely fucking breathtaking.

Your hand drifts up to tug at the neck of your hoodie.

Your stomach lurches, and you rush into the bathroom, leaning over the sink as you fight back the urge to get sick.

I should be happy that he’s fine.

Good for him, right?

It’s just a fucking picture.

It’s not like we were ever anything.

Right?

We never actually dated.

I was just a fling.

Then why-?

You glance up at the mirror, wincing at your reflection staring back at you.

The unkempt mess you present contrasts so drastically to that polished, stunning man that you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

“You’re a fool.”

It’s absurd.

Of course, you knew from the beginning that you’d slept with a stranger.

What did you expect?

It’s not like he told me anything untrue.

He didn’t lie, right?

He said he missed me.

So?

Maybe he missed the sex.

Did I really think he was going to date me?

But he made time for me…

Did he?

Was he really that busy?

I’m so naive.

You let out an exhausted sigh, collecting your thoughts before finally running the water and splashing your face with the cold liquid.

Your brain just keeps going in circles as you dry your face and hands, arguing against that stupid little voice that keeps trying to make excuses.

You don’t even bother putting away the groceries, finding yourself burrowing into your bed as if you can hide from your shame.

As you close your eyes to the world, you tug once more on the neck of your hoodie.

You freeze as you realize that it’s not the hoodie you’re touching.

It was his fucking necklace encircling your throat.

Clawing at it furiously, you sit up and finally manage to unclasp it, flinging it away from you as if it’s on fire.

With a pathetic whimper, you retreat back under your covers as if that’s some kind of remedy.

Don’t care right now.

You’d somehow twisted up a simple physical affair into some kind of romantic fantasy in your mind.

Did you really think this was some love story?

Guilt at your misunderstanding wars with resentment towards him, but you know that’s not fair.

Still….

How stupid I am.

He’s just fine.

He’s just perfectly fucking fine.

And I’m a complete mess.

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