#I figured out how to do the tagging thing

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ too hot to handle (송민기 ♡ s.mg)

your neighbor has more to give than you bargained for.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!mingi x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, light fluff, neighbor!mingi, fem!reader, big dick, like monster cock level she can't do anything with it, sub!mingi, like super sub, dom!reader, teasing, praise, heavy use of good boy/perfect boy etc., makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, face riding, lots of dirty talk, dick on clit action, controlled orgasms, edging and overstim, eventual piv notes: this has been on the brain for longer than i could ever tell you so hopefully it's a fun one x

[masterlist]

The problem with your neighbor isn’t that he’s hot. It isn’t that he’s funny and charming, and it definitely isn’t the crush bubbling between the both of you. Those would be normal problems, problems you tell your best friends about. 

The problem with your neighbor is that his dick is too big. 

You find that out at the same time you find out this giant who lives next door to you with the deep voice and a penchant for calling you “pretty girl” is actually not the dominant you assumed he would be.

Mingi is actually shockingly, surprisingly submissive. 

And you shockingly, surprisingly, love that more than you ever could have guessed. 

You figure that out while you’re straddling him on the couch, and when you roll your hips just right you feel the impressive hardness of him and hear the neediest whimper you’ve ever heard from a man at the exact same time. 

It takes you thirty minutes more of making out and shedding clothes for you to get a good look at his cock, and when you do it grinds the whole almost-fuck to a stop.

And -

“I know,” He breathes, his eyes softening, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going.” 

You blink at him, unable to hide the trepidation in your eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to try,” 

“It’s okay,” He sounds dejected, but also like this has happened to him before and that fills you with nothing but sharp determination. 

“Hang on,” You lay a hand over his bare chest, still straddling his lap, the impressive length and girth of his cock standing between you. 

“Listen,” He sighs, “I get it,” 

“Mingi,” You interrupt him, “I’m not kicking you out,” 

“You’re not?” His eyebrows raise. 

“No,” You smile, “I do think we should maybe… work up to things,” 

“Of course,” He rushes to agree, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“It’s just,” You grimace, “I haven’t had sex in a long time, like a really long, kind of embarrassing amount of time,” 

“That’s okay,” He soothes. 

“I’d be lying if I said I thought I could take you,” You sigh, “but Mingi, I’d really, really like to work up to it,” 

“Yeah?” He grins like he just won the lottery. 

“Uh-huh,” You swallow a little nervously, “just maybe not tonight?” 

“Right,” He nods, “anything you want,” 

“Is that okay?” You check, sliding closer to him, his bare cock brushing against your abdomen. 

“Okay?” He nods, “Of course, it’s… I mean, I like you. I want to do whatever you want, that’s what I want,” 

He’s a little flustered, still walking a nervous line like you might change your mind, or he’s worried about coming on too strong, and you take him in for a moment. 

Somewhere inside, you find the boldness to ask the question you’ve wanted to ask since you heard his first whimpered moan, “Mingi,” You murmur, “is that what you’re into? Doing what I want?”

His eyes flick over your face, but you don’t miss the way they darken up at the idea and he nods, “If you’re into that,” he says, “but I can take over if you need me to,” 

You wonder how many girls have begged him to be more dominant. How many girls have pushed him to go to a place that isn’t entirely comfortable for him, when he clearly wants the opposite. 

“I’m into that,” You tell him, “don’t worry,” 

You both click together like kinky little puzzle pieces, and despite the fact that you’ve never had his dick properly inside you, you’ve been having sex for weeks. 

You get creative. 

Mingi and his giant cock seem to love nothing more than making you feel good, especially when you use his big body to get yourself off. 

The first few times you hook up it’s the basics, getting to know each other, getting to know each other's bodies and what makes each other tick… but by the fourth time? The fifth? 

The fourth time you’re a horny mess, probably a breath away from ovulating and ready to climb his tall ass like a tree, and so all the hesitation you’ve had about being too much for each other flies right out the window. 

With him pinned to your bed you ride his thigh like it’s a pillow, barely looking at him as you get yourself off, and when you’re done all he can do is beg you to do that again, but on his face. 

He whimpers when his tongue first slips inside your folds, when he feels the weight of your body sink onto him. His hands grip your ass and between sucks and moans he begs you to ride him, to fuck his face and never stop. 

With your hands on the headboard you take it just like before, eyes closed, head thrown back, your moans spilling out into the room . 

He comes untouched that time, ropes and ropes of his hot cum painting his chest and stomach, panting apologies into your thighs, and that’s when everything changes. 

Now you tell him when to come. How to come. Where to come. 

You discover that he loves to be edged and you love to be overstimulated. 

A perfect combination of opposites. 

You make him beg for things, ache for things, his cock leaking against your lips as he whines. 

“Please, please, just a taste, just a lick, please, god, please,” 

And sometimes you let him have it, but most of the time you don’t. 

He seems to like that even more. 

Mingi and his big cock have found so many other ways to get off that you almost never want to give into having him inside you, because what if your dynamic changes? The anticipation is the delicious part, the denial, the almost-almosts. 

The way he begs when he’s on his knees between your splayed thighs, his shaft rubbing against your slick folds, sliding over your clit - that’s when you almost break. 

“You f-feel so good,” He shudders, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth so that his cock slides up and down your aching center. 

“Mm,” You sigh, relaxing into the mattress, “good boy,” 

His cock twitches at that, “Thank you, thank you,” 

“Go faster, baby,” You beckon him down with a come-hither motion, “fuck me like you mean it,” 

He freezes, “I-inside?” 

“Did I say inside?” You counter. 

“No, no, of course, I’m sorry,” He stumbles past that assumption and shakes his head, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. 

You nod, a silent push to get him to move faster, and he scrambles to comply. 

He braces himself over your spread form on the bed, your hips slotting more tightly together, and then he braces his forearms on either side of you and starts to thrust. 

“Faster,” 

His hips speedup. 

Every brush of his shaft over your swollen clit makes you want to writhe and moan beneath him, but keeping control is the fun part for him, so you stay focused. 

“That’s it, baby,” You brush your fingers through his shaggy locks, “such a good boy,” 

He moans, but keeps the pace. 

“Mm,” You sigh through an almost moan, “baby, your cock feels so good inside me,” 

His hips jerk, a stammered groan on his lips. 

The tease was meant for him, a reminder of where his cock isn’t, but heat spreads through your belly at the idea of what he might feel stretching you open for real. 

“Say it,” You open your legs wider, angling your hips to get the sensation right. 

“Your pussy feels so good,” He pants. 

“Don’t stop,” You direct him again. 

“So tight,” He whines, “so wet,” 

“More, baby.” 

“S-so perfect,” He shudders, his eyes tightly closed, “thank you for l-letting me fuck you,” 

“Oh,” You murmur warmly, “that’s my good boy.” 

He chokes, his thrusts getting harder, a relentless rut of his wet cock against your dripping pussy and you bite down on your tongue at the impulse to beg him to fuck you for real. You’re dizzy, orgasm drunk, and your nails dig into his hips to hold yourself steady. 

“Please,” He pants suddenly, eyes flashing open to find yours, “please, may I come?” 

You’re too close for that, “Hold it, baby,” 

His expression tightens in tense control, “P-please,”

“I’m close,” You tell him, “hold it,”

Tears prick at his eyes and you feel the wet string of his precum on your belly, but he listens. 

A moan pulls free from your chest then, your pleasure fast approaching, and you breathe in hot fits and starts. 

“Come on my cock,” He begs, pleads, “I’m so good for you,” 

Your orgasm crashes into you sideways, the relentless stroke over your clit sending you into pleasured little shakes. 

“Please, I c-can’t, I can’t hold it,” He fists the sheets, his voice a thready wet pant. 

“Come,” You give him all the permission he needs, “come inside me, baby, fill me up,” 

He shudders, thrusting hard twice more, and with groaning moans he spills his release all across your belly, spattering you both in hot cum. 

He’s shaking, trembling, but you run your fingers through his hair and soothe him soft like always. He’s your good boy, your perfect boy, your most obedient boy. 

In the aftermath, when you both come down from your messy, full body pleasure, you find each other in the sheets. 

With kisses across his knuckles you nuzzle into him. 

“Next time, I want you for real,” 

He’s hesitant at first, but you’re ready, you’re sure. 

The next time, you play softer. You’ve learned each other so well, but this time it’s your turn to be vulnerable with your body and he doesn’t let you down for a second. 

It’s a slow process, full of sweetness and foreplay. He’s learned how to make your body sing over weeks and weeks of hookups, and he knows he can make you wet enough, relaxed enough to take him. 

The stretch is achingly delicious. 

And once he’s finally inside you for the first time, your bodies connected in every possible way, you realize he was worth the wait. 

And you fit together in more ways than one. 

As it turns out, your boyfriend’s big dick isn’t such a problem after all. 

[side-by-side-sideblog]

As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

[adieutristana]

Hey :3

could you please write arcane women with a chronically ill user? Especially a FAINTING CONDITION, I have one and I would love to see how would they react and take care!!

of course! thank you for the request <3

disclaimer that i do not have any experience with this kind of condition. i did some research and did my best to portray them accurately, but as always, i’m open to feedback.

summary; headcanons of arcane women and fem!reader with a fainting condition.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn

tags/warnings; hurt/comfort, fluff, chronically ill!reader, mentions of fainting (duh), medical talk

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* the first time it happened, jinx was in absolute shock. one second you were upright, talking to her about your latest endeavors. the next second, you looked a bit out if it, like your vision was starting to blur and you were becoming disconnected from reality. the next second, your body was going limp, and jinx was scrambling to catch you.

✧.* it'd be an understatement to say that she was panicking. she's shaking you, yelling at you, trying to manipulate you into a sitting position so she can try and figure out what's wrong. she got so desperate that she ended up pouring some cold water over your face, and that was what brought you back to consciousness.

✧.* she's bombarding you with questions as soon as she sees your eyes begin to blink open.

✧.* "what happened, toots?!" she'd ask, or, "you went all... blank, then nothing. what's that about?"

✧.* she can come off as a bit blunt with her questions, but she doesn't mean anything by it. jinx is just a girl with little to no filter- she genuinely is concerned.

✧.* you take a few moments to come back to your senses, all the while jinx is sat next to you with a hand gripping your knee, tight. it's both for you and herself, for jinx to reassure herself that you're here, you're alive, and you're (hopefully) okay.

✧.* once you're in a sound state, you explain to jinx that you have a fainting condition. you'd meant to tell her earlier, but it kept slipping your mind, until you'd actually fainted. you reassure her that it's nothing life-threatening, nothing that'll put you in danger (in most situations).

✧.* jinx still worries, of course she does. she worries about you when you're just going to the convenience store to grab water bottles, so her anxiety when you tell her about your condition is off the charts. regardless, she tries to hone it in and trust your word. you've lived with it for years, and you know your own health better than she does.

✧.* after the first conversation, jinx doesn't bring it up often. of course she'll talk about your condition if you're the one to mention it, but she doesn't want you to feel like she's treating you any differently.

✧.* tries to distract you with colorful smoke bombs, affection, and jokes after you regain consciousness most of the time. peppering your face in purposely wet and rushed kisses in an attempt to see you smile. she knows it'll take you some time to come to, but she wants you to be in good spirits when you do! jinx hates a lot of things, but none quite as much as seeing you unhappy or in distress.

✧.* but she keeps both her hideout and her bags stashed with things that'll help in case of another fainting spell. if there's one thing that jinx is, it's observant. she knows every one of your habits, your little quirks. she could write a damn novel full of things about you that you haven't even noticed about yourself.

✧.* and if she notices those telltale signs- your eyes beginning to cloud, starting to space out, losing your balance, she's on it. water is a given, she'll also usher you to sit or lie down so that you can focus on your breathing. if it's bad enough, jinx will try to guide you through some breathing exercises, even though she doesn't have a clue what she's doing. she's trying her best :(

✧.* "you're lookin' all... far away again. sit down, toots, breathe." she'd say, her face getting impossibly close to yours, thick brows furrowed.

✧.* does as much research as possible! there's not much that frustrates jinx than not being able to understand something. these things are like a puzzle to her in a way. she wants to be able to analyze, understand, and help. she knows there's really nothing she can do to prevent fainting spells, as much as she wishes she could. regardless, helping you through them becomes one of her most important self-appointed duties.

✧.* if she sees you standing for a bit too long, your girlfriend would make sure to ask you to take a little break. she doesn't want you to start getting lightheaded and have another spell when it might be preventable

✧.* jinx would also make sure that you're not close to any hard surfaces or corners if she notices you right on the brink of fainting. the last thing that she needs is you to hit your head on the corner of a table.

✧.* "hey- hey! get away from there," a jumbled mess of words, before wrapping her arms around your waist, slowly pulling you away from near a hard counter and supporting your fall.

✧.* she becomes pretty good pretty quick! it just gave her a scare at first is all :(

vi;

✧.* it was one of the first things you'd told vi when you first began dating- that you have a fainting condition. you faint from time to time, there's signs, and you can't control it. it happens, and it's bound to worry her, but you're okay.

✧.* she'd hear you and listen to you, vi always does. but i don't think the magnitude of your words would really sink in until the first time she witnessed a fainting spell of yours, and she was in shock.

✧.* she was utterly panicked. holding you across her lap, checking your pulse at both your wrist and neck, shaking you, trying to talk to you, anything.

✧.* it seems fruitless, and vi can feel tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes. she didn't realize the sheer depth of what you'd said until now, and the girl is internally beating herself up for it. you told her you had a fainting condition, of course you'd faint! how could she have not been prepared?

✧.* but eventually, you do start to regain consciousness. she immediately holds you close to her chest, whispering quiet and rushed 'ohthankjanna's and 'you're okay, aren't you? please tell me you're okay.'

✧.* it takes a moment for you to return back to consciousness, weary eyes looking up at vi. you can only slowly nod. it's not much of an answer, but it's satisfactory for vi- letting her know that you hear her and you're alright.

✧.* "i'm so sorry i wasn't prepared, you told me and i still-" "vi, love, stop. it's fine, i'm fine."

✧.* she makes sure that she's prepared for next time. she doesn't want to make you feel as if you're delicate, like you can't take care of yourself. vi knows you're more than capable, but still, she's your girlfriend and she wants to look out for you.

✧.* she asks you to describe everything to her- how you know it’s getting bad, what works to help you both before and after the fact. it’s vi trying to understand exactly what you need, rather than simply assuming.

✧.* after those conversations, your girlfriend does grow to recognize the signs and symptoms you have rather quickly. the moment she sees you start to look a little out of it, she’s pulling you away from anything you could fall onto, coaxing you to lay down or sit down with your head between your knees.

✧.* “hey, hey. sit down, okay? i’ve got ya, cupcake,” she’d whisper, her hand rubbing gentle circles into the small of your back. she’d press light kisses to your temple, plump lips a reminder of her presence and affections.

✧.* there’s always a few water bottles in her bag just in case though, and some snacks (your favorites, too) whenever she feels you may need them.

✧.* while vi did freak out after the first fainting spell you had, she learns to manage them soon after. now that you’ve talked to her and she knows what to expect, she can rest assured that you’re alright and you’ll come to with a bit of time and support.

✧.* once you do regain consciousness, she doesn’t make a big deal of it. VERY affectionate, though. she’s just so happy that you’re doing alright, she can’t help it… chaste kisses to your lips and tight embraces when she notices your light grumbles and your eyes fluttering open.

✧.* if you were having a conversation before fainting, she’d wait out the episode, then continue the discussion like nothing had happened. while vi absolutely worries, she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel like she’s only focusing on what happened. unless you want to talk about it of course!

✧.* “you’re okay, right?” “mhm… just a little hiccup,” you’d murmur. “right. where were we?”

mel;

✧.* mel has seen people faint several times in her life and career, but i’d imagine you’re the first person she’s met with a fainting condition.

✧.* mel is a stellar listener, though. once you inform her of your condition, your symptoms, how it affects your daily life and how you navigate it, she’s taken everything to heart. mel may not fully understand, but she wants to try the best that she can.

✧.* asks a lot of questions. your girlfriend isn’t trying to interrogate you or pry any information from you, instead just trying to grasp your condition better. trying to prepare for the inevitable fainting spells you have and know exactly how to handle them. questions like ‘how do you know one is upon you?,’ or ‘what do you think helps best, when it’s said and done?’

✧.* so the first time that she’d witnessed an episode, mel knew exactly what to do. she saw the undeniable signs; the far-off look, the light sheen of sweat, the way you were ever so slightly off-balance. she sprung into action and guided you by your shoulders to lay down, legs above your chest and encouraged you to simply breathe through it.

✧.* “you’re sweating, love. and you look like you’re having trouble focusing,” she’d say- a statement, rather than a question. mel would take you by your shoulders and guide you to one of the lush couches in her home, ushering you to lay down. “come on, breathe. in, out… like that, yes.”

✧.* though she gets some close calls and is able to help sometimes, mel knows that she can’t always prevent a fainting spell. but she’s always there to break your fall, hold you across your lap, brush stray strands of hair from your face and run soft thumbs across your cheeks until you come back to.

✧.* so incredibly sweet and attentive once you come back to your senses. mel is peppering gentle kisses across your cheeks, forehead, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your lips. a light sheen from her lip gloss remains on your skin. she’ll take your hands in hers, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while your fingers intertwine with her own.

✧.* “you scared me there, darling,” she’d tease, soft lips brushing against your temple. “but that’s alright. you’re okay now, aren’t you?”

✧.* doesn’t dwell on it, though. mel doesn’t want this to be the focus of your day if you don’t want it to be, so she’ll give you your kisses and cuddles before letting go and continuing on with whatever you were doing, unless you ask her to keep giving you that affection. in which case she is more than happy to oblige!

✧.* she does have connections with doctors just in case she feels you may need one. it rarely gets to that point, but having those emergency contacts puts mel’s mind at ease. if you were to take a little too long to wake up, she didn’t react quickly enough and couldn’t break your fall, she’d know exactly who to go to.

✧.* mel has all of the essentials packed at all times. water, snacks, even a device to track your blood pressure when necessary. she’s stocked constantly, you’ll never want or need for anything with mel.

✧.* “that looked rough,” she’d say, crouching next to your form and holding out a bottle of spring water. “drink some of this, okay? even if you feel alright, it’ll make me feel better.”

sevika;

✧.* you swore that you’d meant to tell her, you were just waiting for an opportunity. a minute of peace in her chaotic days, maybe a tranquil moment after all the rough jobs and rushed fights.

✧.* but the ‘right time’ never came, sevika is a busy woman after all. by the time you have a moment to yourselves, sevika is washing up in preparation for bed, her eyelids already drooping. you know you need to tell her about your condition at some point, but you don't want to spring it on your girlfriend while she's this tired.

✧.* so when you're out at the casino, the woman playing a heated game of blackjack with you and a few of her old friends and you suddenly slump in your seat, sevika has no idea what's hit her. immediately she drops her cards, rushing to your side of the table to shake you, talk to you, desperately try to get you back to her.

✧.* "shit- dove, what happened?" she's saying. her voice is rushed and panicked, much unlike her usual gruff demeanor. "come on, please wake up..."

✧.* she stays by your side the entire time, simply waiting for you to wake up. her friends can wait, the game can wait, and she doesn't pay any mind to the lingering stares of other patrons. all that sevika can think about in this moment is you, and your well-being. she's never seen this from you before. she's panicked internally, but she's good at putting on a brave face for you.

✧.* the second your eyelids begin to flutter open, sevika is all over you. she was panicked, and most of all she was scared. as irrational as it may be, part of her was afraid that she was losing you- even though she was able to take note of the subtle rise and fall of your chest, and the fact your pulse was still steady.

✧.* once you're back to feeling yourself, fully, sevika would pull you out of the casino and onto the street for more 'privacy' (not much of that in zaun). she’s immediately going down a list of questions- if you’re okay, what happened, what caused it, if this is a recurring issue, and if you knew this would happen.

✧.* you explained to her, your gaze downcast and voice tinged with a hint of guilt. “i’m sorry, sev. i meant to tell you, just… the time wasn’t ever right.” she let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. though she’s a bit shaken up by what just happened, sevika can’t bring herself to be mad at you. she understands where you’re coming from.

✧.* "there is no 'right time,'" she said, hand on your shoulder. her thumb rubbing slow circles against the fabric of your shirt. "you can tell me these things, especially when they involve you fainting." her tone is firm, yet there's no anger or malice behind it.

✧.* from that point on, you've been more open and willing to express things without the fear of timing or anything similar. you discuss your symptoms with her, the way your condition affects your daily life, how you work around it, the like. she listens and makes mental notes of everything you say, even trying to read between the lines at some points. sevika is that devoted and that concerned for your well-being. she wants to make sure she's prepared for whatever comes and she's able to be a good girlfriend through it :(

✧.* her home is STACKED with cases of water bottles, any medications that might help, and your favorite snacks. she's already made a substantial effort to make her once uninviting place more comfortable for you, but now she goes the extra mile- and you didn't even ask her to.

✧.* after a while, sevika comes to expect fainting spells and knows when they're coming on. she'll stay close to you, trying to talk to you and ground you in the moment- having you sit down, try to look at her, try to focus. but she knows that eventually you'll likely faint, and that's alright. as long as you're in a safe environment and she's able to look out for you, your girlfriend's mind is at ease.

✧.* “dove, you’re about to-” she’ll move to hold your shoulders, gently guiding you to a place away from any hard surfaces. “sit here, alright? i’ll get you some water.”

caitlyn;

✧.* it was one of the first conversations you’d had with caitlyn when you begun dating. now that you’re spending more time with the woman, you know it’s best to inform her before she finds out by you actually fainting.

✧.* caitlyn doesn’t immediately understand your condition, she’s never met somebody with a condition like yours before. however, she absolutely does want to understand and as soon as you’re finished talking, she takes a trip to one of piltover’s libraries to do some reading.

✧.* she reads about your condition, its symptoms, and how fainting spells can be treated. the signs that one is approaching. caitlyn would also read a few medical papers for good measure, just to see what professionals recommend. this is of the upmost importance to her.

✧.* the first time caitlyn was witness, you were thankfully in the comfort of her own home. helping her cook dinner, reaching up to the cupboards for some spices before you felt lightheadedness set in. caitlyn is perceptive- she noticed almost immediately.

✧.* she wrapped an arm loosely around your waist, trying to support the inevitable fall as she pressed soft kisses to your cheeks. "hey, i'm with you," she whispered. she didn't want to necessarily coddle you, but she wanted to remind you that she's there, first and foremost.

✧.* caitlyn feels you slump against her. she's keeping that same stoic face she's so known and feared for, but underneath the surface, she's terrified. terrified that you're not really okay, even though you've assured her this happens regularly and you're alright every time. terrified that she's doing something wrong, or even making things worse.

✧.* it takes a few moments, some gentle brushes of her hand against your arm in a motion meant more to reassure caitlyn, but you come back to.

✧.* "there you are, love," she murmurs, her hold on you tightening the slightest bit. "that was... scary."

✧.* "i'm alright, cait," you whisper, a weak smile on your face in an effort to reassure her. "i'm sure it's scary for you, but i'm okay. i promise."

✧.* caitlyn takes your word for it, you know yourself best. but even so, she can't help the nagging fears in the back of her mind, no matter how hard she tries to get rid of them. she's got water- expensive water stocked up, snacks, over-the-counter medical equipment, the like, all in her home for you.

✧.* her worries subside with time, but they never completely go away. they likely never will. she's your girlfriend, after all :( but she grows accustomed to fainting spells and almost-fainting spells as part of life. she's observant and intuitive, and cait is able to spring into action the moment she notices something is wrong.

✧.* "alright, that's enough," she'd say, her voice gentle yet firm. guiding you from the table you're cleaning. she sees the way you're starting to become a bit wobbly on your feet, and how your gaze isn't as focused. "i'll take it from here. lie down, love, i'll get you something to eat. alright?"

✧.* caitlyn is observant, but she doesn't ask for you to give her more than you're willing. verbally, she won't pry, she won't check in too often (unless she sees you looking unwell), she won't ask too many questions.

[nakylvr]

— BACK TO ME

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary જ⁀➴ after an argument breaks out and hurtful things are thrown, you leave for a few days, and daniela realizes just how much she needs you

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ angst with happy ending, language, established relationship, dealer!dani au, arguments

now playing જ⁀➴ back to me by the rose

things had been straining recently. with tax season coming up you spent most of your days after work trying to figure out how to not get completely fucked over and get a ton of money taken out. you also got promoted at your job, which was both a blessing and a curse. more money was always a good thing, but your patience was already wearing thin when the argument started.

you had just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to relax when you realized daniela wasn't in the apartment. too tired, you shrug it off and lay down on the couch, still in your work clothes, not bothering to change. you ended up falling asleep faster than you anticipated.

when the front door opened, it was dark outside. you could hear it, but you couldn't find it in you to get up.

"yn?" daniela's voice is heard quietly. "what are you doing on the couch?"

you hum, opening your eyes groggily and looking up at her. "where were you?" you mumble.

"had to run out real quick," she answers. "come on, let's go to bed."

"for hours?" you say before you can think.

daniela's expression changes at your words, but you don't notice past the dark in the room. "i needed to do some stuff," she responds. "i'm sorry." she doesn't know why she's saying it. most likely out of fear that this conversation will spiral out of control after all the bullshit that happened earlier in the year. she doesn't want a fight right now, and she's trying to keep it from happening.

"who were you with?" you ask, slowly sitting up.

"minji," daniela answers truthfully. "she needed some help getting a gift for hanni, then she came with me for a deal that i had to do on the way back."

your eyebrows furrowed together, looking back at her. "you let her go along with you?" you inquired.

"yeah?" dani replies, but it comes out unsure. "i knew you were getting off work late and i didn't want to bother you."

"but you let minji go with you?" you press. "you told me i was the only one."

"well, yes. but minji's my close friend, i–"

"didn't see anything wrong with it?" you cut her off. "cause it looks a little weird when all your clients know me and then you show up with some other girl that's not me? let me guess, you saw keeho?"

"how did you–" daniela gets cut off again by you talking over her.

"he texted me," you tell her. "asking, and i quote 'who this random chick' is with you instead of me. so it's not just me thinking i'm crazy."

"i didn't say you were crazy," daniela quickly says, shaking her head. "baby, please, this isn't that serious. you know minji."

"but other people don't," you respond. "what if it wasn't keeho?"

"i-" daniela stops herself, taking a breath. "this is the only time i've brought someone other than you."

"but why?" you stand up from the couch, making daniela take a few steps backwards. "you're the one who tells me that you don't let anyone go because you don't want them to see, but minji is just a different story or something?"

"it's one time!" daniela says, her voice raising slightly. "why does it matter?"

"why does it matter?" you repeat. "you tell me, daniela. you tell me." you cross your arms over your chest.

daniela is quiet for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say to not upset you more. "i know what you're thinking, but this isn't a big deal. i let her come along because it was keeho. nothing else, no other reason," she tells you. "i promise."

"not a big deal, you keep saying that," your voice turns sharp. "what's not a big deal? that i'm reasonably concerned when you're out hours past when i got back and tell me you were doing some stuff, helping minji get a gift for hanni, and do a deal? because those are multiple different answers."

"oh my god," daniela mumbles, looking around before back at you. "yn, seriously, it's nothing."

"give me your phone," you demand.

"what?" she looks at you confused.

"consider this a phone check. give it to me." you hold your hand out.

"you're serious?" daniela asks. when you don't answer, just stare at her, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you. "jesus christ," she grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.

looking through the recent messages, your fingers hover over one specifically, and when you glance up from the phone to look at daniela, she feels her heart drop to her stomach at the expression on your face.

"so what? you have clients wanting to get you shit for valentines day? is that the excuse you're going to give?" you say seriously, tilting your head to the side.

"what?" daniela lets out. "no one has–"

"what's this about then?" you hold the phone towards her, showing a thread of messages.

"that's jaehyun!" daniela exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "he's my friend!"

"and you know i don't like how close he is with you!" you retort, your voice raising. "every time we go to his place it's like i don't even exist! he's obviously hitting on you!"

"he literally isn't! he's gay!" daniela scoffs, shaking her head. "plus, he literally has a boyfriend!"

"well that didn't stop you the first time, did it?" the words come out faster than you could think.

"right," daniela scoffs again, nodding her head. "right, because it's always my fault, isn't it? i'm always the one fucking up, right?"

"yeah!" you nod. "you're the one who says you can pull anyone, and then you act like i'm fucking crazy when people are all over you and i don't like it! like it's not right for me to feel upset even though i'm your girlfriend!"

"i've never called you crazy! when have i once said that?!" daniela's voice starts getting louder, nearing the edge of yelling.

"but you look at me like it!" you end up yelling first. "like-like it's a problem that i get jealous! you're allowed to have your hands all over me when i'm with my friends when you're jealous but when you have three different girls who give you thousands of dollars each month all over you it's weird when i get defensive and jealous!? that's not fair, daniela!"

"so what? i'm supposed to just sit there while girls eye-fuck you or try to get all close?!" daniela retorts. "you don't even know! you're so fuckin' naive that you think everyone just wants to be friends!"

"naive? i'm naive?" you let out a laugh, shaking your head. "right, sorry for being nice enough to make friends who don't just want to fuck me for some shit!"

"they still want to fuck you!" daniela yells. "look at sophia! you ran to her when shit got hard and look what happened! who's telling me that you won't go run off to some other 'friend' of yours only for them to fuck you while you were still mine!"

you stop once sophia's name is spoken. daniela knew better than to bring her up after the events that happened, knowing how much you regretted your stupid decision and how bad you felt about it afterwards. but in the heat of the argument, the second the words leave daniela's mouth you're standing there in silence.

"you know what," you eventually speak up. "maybe i will."

"will what?" daniela asks, seemingly not realizing what she said and how you took it.

you shake your head, letting out a scoff. you toss her phone on the couch and walk into the bedroom, not saying another word.

"yn?" daniela sighs. "yn! what are you doing?"

a few minutes later you walk back out with a bag in your hands, making daniela's eyes go wide.

"what're you doing?" she asks.

"i'm going to jungwon's for the night," you answer simply. "or, the rest of the night, i guess."

"what?" daniela looks at you confused. "why?"

you stare at her with a deadpan expression, waiting to see if she'll notice what she said. when she clearly doesn't, you shake your head again. "because he's a friend who won't fuck me while i'm still yours. those are your words," you tell her before starting to walk to the front door.

your words make daniela realize what she said, and she immediately starts following after you to the door. "yn? yn, baby, don't be like this! i didn't mean to bring her up!"

"but you did." you swiftly turn around, causing her to abruptly stop. "you did even though we talked about it and you knew how fucked up i felt afterwards. but if this is what comes out of your mouth when we argue, then i know you're still pissed about it. so, i'm leaving for the night, or maybe a few days, i don't know." you shrug. "i know i fucked up with what i did. i regret it. but you told me it was okay. when apparently it isn't if you're bringing it up. so while i'm gone, you think about what you want, daniela. because you are on thin ice, and it's cracking. so figure it the fuck out."

you leave the apartment before daniela can get a word out, the door slamming behind you echoing through the place. she stands there for a few minutes, waiting to hear you come back, but you never do.

"god damnit," she sighs, dragging her hands over her face.

the whole remainder of the night daniela kept texting you, telling you to come back, that she was sorry and didn't mean it. but, that's how she always was whenever you two fought. and you were tired of everything right now.

when you got to jungwon's, he was surprised to see you, but when you explained the situation he immediately brought you inside and talked with you about the whole thing. he was always good with comforting others and advice. plus, he could tell you were straining yourself recently.

while daniela sat inside the apartment, moping around waiting for you to come back, still texting you as the day passed and you didn't return or respond. she knew you were upset with what she said, that was obvious. and she couldn't lie and say that the event didn't gnaw at her every fiber since she found out, even if sophia got what she deserved in the end, because it did. she knew it shouldn't. that it was a moment of vulnerability for you, that you had no one else to go to. it all spirals back to her regretting what she did in the first place to start it all.

for the whole day daniela thought of what to do, how to fix this. she sat on the couch for hours thinking of what will make you not mad at her anymore. when she got an idea.

it was day three and you still weren't responding, so daniela took matters into her own hands and texting jungwon asking if you were there. he answered truthfully, saying that he wanted her to figure it out with you so he was trying to help the most he could. so she drove over to his place.

standing in front of the door, daniela shifts her weight from one foot to the other anxiously, biting her lip in hopes that this would work. the door opens and jungwon is revealed, who smiles at her.

"hey, dani," he says. "she's in the guest room."

"thanks," daniela replies, walking past him when he opens the door wider for her.

approaching the guest room, daniela knocks on the door a few times, hearing you hum on the other end. she slowly opens the door, making you turn and see it was her. your expression hardens, and dani notices, knowing she's still in deep shit.

"hey," she says awkwardly, pulling the flowers from behind her back. "i got you these." she holds them out, looking at the ground.

you can't help the way your eyes soften at the tone in her voice, quiet and hesitant compared to the confident loudness you were used to. she looks like a kicked puppy staring at the ground, and you let out a short sigh before getting off the bed, walking over to her and taking the bouquet from her.

"i'm sorry for what i said," daniela mumbles. "i didn't mean to say it i just...i still think about it sometimes and i don't know why. i know you didn't do it to hurt me on purpose but sometimes i...i worry that you're going to leave once you realize i'm not the best for you."

her words shock you as she still stares at the ground, finally speaking the thoughts that had been eating her up inside. "dani..."

"i-i know i'm not the best," she quickly adds. "i know you can find someone who will treat you better like it's nothing. but i don't– i can't lose you. i love you so much, so fucking much, and it scares me so much when we fight because i know every time it's another tick gone and that eventually you'll get tired of me and leave. i don't want you to leave. we fight, we have our ups and downs, but you always stay. you always stay and i know one day y-you won't." daniela's voice cracks at the end, tears filling her eyes the longer she talks. "i'm sorry." a few tears fall.

carefully setting the flowers on the bed, you take another step towards her and cup her face in your hands, making her look at you finally. "it's okay," you tell her softly. "you're right, i always stay. i always stay because i love you. i wouldn't if i didn't. dani, i don't think you know that you are the best relationship i've had. all of the other ones ended like shit. you prove to me time and time again that even if you fuck up, you own up to it and you don't run away. i won't ever get tired of you, i promise." you wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. "i love you, and i love the flowers. you always know what to get me."

"i try," daniela responds quietly, nodding slightly.

"i know." you nod. "and i love that about you." you lean in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips.

parting from the kiss, daniela's arms snake around your waist and pull you close to her as she puts her face in the crook of your neck. "i love you," she murmurs against your skin.

"i love you too," you reply, petting her head gently.

[sunsbaby]

⌞ dean winchester x beach babe!reader ⌝

ּ ֶָ֢ 𓍯𓂃 semi-public (if sex by a window counts) | p!v | cumming inside | kissing | EST. relationship

Dean's eyes trailed down your figure as you stood by the window, staring at the waves crashing from afar. His vision focusing on your ass, and how good it looked in that bikini he'd bought you.

"Damn, sexy–" he said as you felt a smack land on one of your ass cheeks, "might as well fuck you right here, a pretty girl and a pretty view."

"Dean!" You exclaimed, yet you never said no. So, maybe this is how you found yourself with your bottoms pulled to the side with him slowly sinking into your walls.

Moans fell from your lips—well tried too—as Dean's mouth met yours. His hips hit your ass, the flesh moving on impact. He had a tight grip on your hair, pulling your body up to meet his as you both shared a kiss full of hunger and something dark.

His thick cock pistoned in and out of your tight heat, your mind was blank—you were fucked dumb. The only thing you could think of was every vein and the way his tip brushes against your cervix in a way that had your toes curling around nothing.

"Eyes on the ocean, sexy. I wonder if those people could see us from up here." Dean murmured into your ear after pulling away from your swollen lips. Your walls clenched around him at the thought.

"You dirty fuckin' girl–yea? Y'so good f'me, baby." He groaned into your ear, squelching noises which came from your pretty pussy—as Dean calls it—and the smell of sex fill the area.

You were so close, your moans getting louder the creatures beneath the sea could probably hear them.

"Ohh Dean! mmmh–please, please!" You babbled on, drool sliding down your chin. His hand wrapped around your neck, untangling itself from your locks.

His thick cock thrusted into you harder. He trailed wet kisses down your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. As you came, your walls fluttered, pulling him to the edge as both your orgasms came crashing over you. A warm sticky substance coated your womb and inner walls.

Panting as your eyes were glassed over with tears from the pleasure alone. Your hands grasped onto his forearms as his moved onto your hips.

"Always knew you'd be a good fuck, Dean." You giggled, remembering the time you first saw him on that beach and threatened him with 'Cherry'—who he's come to love, even using her on some of his hunts.

"Oh, shut up you brat. You forget whose cock is still deep inside you–" He emphasizes with a sharp thrust, pulling a gasp from your lungs followed by a slap to his arm.

"You know you love it." You pulled him in for a short kiss, melting in his hold. Completely forgetting about his member softening inside you as you both watch the sunset and the waves crash against one another.

sunny yaps! I HAVE BEEN BUSY SOOOO I HAVENT POSTED IN MAYBE A DAY OR 2 BUT HERE UUU GUYS GOO!! A little dean x beach babe!reader SMUTT!! IM NOT THE BEST AS IVE SAID MANY TIMES SOO SHH 🤫 BUT I LOVE UU ALL!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas @starzify + pls lmk if u wanna be added or taken off!

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[parkakeet]

this is very cool. and I have nothing to say about the actual linguistic breakdown. but I do have things to say about the actual validity of the 'gay fanfiction problem'

y'all. two people with he/him pronouns (or she/her) have been interacting in literature since forever. this is not singular to gay fanfiction. authors have been working around this forever.

secondly. I don't think the sentence "John saw Jack and he smiled" is very ambiguous at all. to me this instinctively reads as John being the one who smiled. because seeing jack is the cause of the smiling.

if you wanted jack to be the one smiling, you could say something like "John saw Jack, who smiled."

there's a way we're trained to read. and it's fairly easy to use that to your advantage I think. ambiguous sentences are often not actually ambiguous. they have connotations that are built into English language creative writing traditions.

does that make sense?

people are taught through reading, to read things a certain way. you only need to guide them to do so.

it's the same reason you can write dialogue without dialogue tags.

if you set up your scene correctly. the reader will fill in the gaps. ex:

"pass the salt?" said John.

Jack handed the salt to him over the table, "how was work today?" he asked.

"It was fine."

"That's good to hear, I know it's been hard lately."

like. you can tell who's speaking without me laying it out for you. it's kind of the same principle. there are a lot of spoken and unspoken rules that dictate how you interact with fiction, and half of the battle of learning to write, is figuring them out, and learning to use them.

[blubunz]

OBSESSION, INFATUATION, CONFESSION

— leon s. kennedy x gn! reader

Tags: the title says it all actually.

A/N: I'll work on other fics and stuff later I promise! Been busy lately and my period does not help lmao grah omg,, so I only have a short little thing for you guys :(

Leon who views himself as tainted, a hollow shell of a man, a weapon only to serve the government and protecting other tainted people.

He's got no right view of the typical romance he'd read or seen. Those typical rom-coms and books are just fictional to him. Well, in his line of work, he doesn't have the mind to view the world as a silly rom-com.

But, he knows what he wants when he sees you. Just a quick meeting, no deep conversation whatsoever yet somehow you have managed to make Leon think he was in highschool again by how his heart is thumping loud and palms sweaty from nervousness.

He doesn't let it show, obviously. But the moment you were gone, his knees crumbled and he has to lean on a wall nearby to steady himself.

God, he's already past his 20s. He's not that young, certainly doesn't look the part. But you make him feel like a teenager, a boy who only worries about impressing his crush rather than bioterrorism.

Day after day, Leon sees you even more radiant, like an angel. He might as well worship you and kiss the ground you walk on. He has to resist that urge, to fall on his knees, begging you to be with him, to hug you and feel your bright aura as he take the wings off to keep you forever with him.

To him, you are everything. Even if his everything should be his job, typically his life depends on it. But not to how Leon sees it. To him, you're providing him air to breathe when you're near. You're giving him a purpose to live his days even more productive, not just throwing himself carelessly here and there just to get things over with.

To you, however, you're not...that special. And you aren't. You're just like anyone else. You're not some hero in a movie, or some angel sent from heaven. You're you. A human with feelings and thoughts about simple things like what to eat, or just getting annoyed at something during your work.

You're aware you're not that crazy, big, admirable figure that everyone knows. Just a nice person doing their best throughout the days.

Yet, Leon's absolutely infatuated with you.

You never noticed it during your usual meetings, but you grow to realise how big of an impact you have on Leon when he's ticked off by the knowledge that you had troubled at work, caused by someone he doesn't even know. It's normal to you, annoying, but normal, everyone has to have a few bad experiences at work. But Leon's fuming, like it was him experiencing it and not you.

And on some random days, you would receive gifts. It's not consistent, but not entirely rare. Seeing a box by your desk every now and then with his initials written on the box. Each time, it was something different, but what they all have in common is that they're all expensive. You already have enough perfume and jewelries by now, with more than enough clothes that you don't need to go shopping anymore. You're slightly scared of how Leon knows your size and what your preferences are.

Nonetheless, you embrace it, and Leon can't be happier. He's an absolute gentleman, doing everything for you as much as he could and treating you to fancy dinners.

He does all of them so easily, but when he finds the perfect time to properly confess to you, he's shaking like a leaf. Leon wants to slap himself at how similar he is to a schoolboy, with you standing before him with a curious expression, and him sweating bullets with a whole paragraph well-constructed in his mind.

His first few words are heavy and shaky. You're almost concerned he'd just cry and run off, but Leon holds himself still, trying to speak his heart out to you.

He freezes when you smile. Honestly, you've predicted it. No one's just nice enough to give you expensive gifts and treating you out like a royal.

���So, is...is it a yes...?”

“Yes, Leon, it is.”

[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[iamquiantrelle]

OFFSIDES (chapter 2) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨) # wc: 9.56k

# tags: @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mufasathatniggatho, @captainwithoutmakingitlove @livinglifethroughfanfic, @judesvirtual @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

Aurélien spotted his mother immediately at Madrid-Barajas Airport – not hard when she was wearing her signature red coat that made her stand out among the sea of travelers. He had to bend down considerably to kiss both her cheeks, his 6'2" frame dwarfing her petite figure.

"Mon petit," ("My little one,") she said, patting his cheek despite the fact there was nothing little about him anymore. Her face was a study in controlled displeasure – not quite angry, but definitely not happy.

"Maman," he replied, taking her bags. "Le vol était bon?" ("Was the flight good?")

"Mm." That single sound carried volumes of upcoming lecture. She'd perfected that tone during his teenage years.

Loading her bags into his Lamborghini Urus' trunk, Aurélien felt like he was seventeen again, about to confess to sneaking out to a party. Except this was bigger than teenage rebellion. So much bigger.

The drive from the airport was unusually quiet. Normally, he'd be cracking jokes, telling her about Ocho's latest antics, showing off his improving Spanish accent. But today the words stuck in his throat. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel – a nervous tell his mother definitely noticed.

"Tu es silencieux," ("You're quiet,") she observed, studying his profile. "C'est à cause des blogs?" ("Is it because of the blogs?")

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Pas exactement." ("Not exactly.")

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then her expression softened. "Just because I am going to lecture you doesn't mean you can't tell me other things. Good things." She switched to English, something she did when she wanted to show she wasn't too angry. "How is Eduardo? And Jude?"

Aurélien felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This was familiar territory. "Cama's Cama. Still bouncing off walls at training. Jude's good too – his Spanish is getting better than mine."

"Ah, but his French?"

"Terrible," Aurélien grinned despite himself. "Like, really terrible, Maman."

"You should teach him."

"I tried! He keeps mixing up his conjugations. Called Coach 'tu' instead of 'vous' the other day. Almost gave Uncle Bertrand a heart attack."

His mother laughed, and for a moment it felt normal. Just picking up his mom from the airport, sharing stories about his friends, being her not-so-little boy.

Then his phone lit up with a text from Naz – another nursery design she'd found – and reality crashed back in. His grip tightened on the steering wheel again.

His mother noticed. Of course she noticed. She noticed everything.

"Aurélien." Her voice was gentle now. Too gentle. "What aren't you telling me?"

The ultrasound picture felt like it was burning a hole in his wallet. Two more turns until they reached his villa. Just two more turns to figure out how to tell his mother she was going to be a grandmother.

Maybe he should have let Uncle Bertrand do this after all.

The moment they stepped into his villa, Ocho bounded over, tail wagging wildly. His mother's stern expression softened as she bent to pet him.

"Mon beau garçon," ("My handsome boy,") she cooed, scratching behind his ears. "Au moins toi, tu ne me causes pas de problèmes." ("At least you don't cause me problems.")

Aurélien winced at that, but before he could respond, Uncle Bertrand appeared from the kitchen.

"Josette," he greeted, kissing both her cheeks. "Le voyage s'est bien passé?" ("Was the journey good?")

She gave her brother-in-law a knowing look. "You know something."

Bertrand raised his hands in surrender. "I know nothing." He whistled for Ocho. "Come, let's go check the garden."

The dog followed happily, and just like that, Aurélien's backup had abandoned him.

Traitors, both of them.

He placed his mother's bags in the hallway, each movement feeling like a step toward execution. When he entered the living room, she had already claimed her usual armchair, her Lady Dior purse placed precisely on the coffee table.

"Viens t'asseoir, Aurélien." ("Come sit, Aurélien.")

That tone. That specific tone that made his stomach drop straight to his Nike sneakers. At twenty-four, standing 6'2, playing for Real Madrid, and he still felt like a small boy when his mother used that voice. Because you didn't disobey a West African mother – not if you valued your life.

He sat.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his fingers fidgeting. His mother watched him over her glasses, then reached up to adjust them on her nose with deliberate slowness.

"Alors… qu'est-ce que Simon a dit à propos des blogs?" ("So… what did Simon say about the blogs?")

Simon, his agent at ESN. Aurélien looked heavenward, avoiding her gaze entirely as he rattled off the response. "He said we should let it die down. Not engage. The news cycle will move on to something else soon enough."

"Hmm." That single syllable held volumes. "C'est tout? Rien d'autre?" ("That's it? Nothing else?")

The ultrasound picture in his wallet felt like it was radiating heat. How was it possible for something so small to feel so heavy?

"Aurélien." Josette's voice cut through his silence. "Since when do you not look at me when I'm speaking to you?"

He forced himself to meet her eyes. "Désolé, Maman." ("Sorry, Mom.")

"These blogs," she continued, switching to English entirely now. "This girl they're writing about. Is she just another-"

"She's not like that," he cut in, then immediately regretted interrupting when his mother's eyebrow arched. "Pardon. But Naz… she's different."

"Different how? Because from what I'm seeing, she's running to gossip blogs with stories about my son-"

"That wasn't her. It was her friend."

"Ah, so she has messy friends?" Josette leaned forward slightly. "You know better than this, Aurélien. I raised you better than to get mixed up with-"

"She's pregnant."

The words hung in the air between them. Josette went very still, her hands frozen mid-gesture.

"Pardon?" ("What?")

Aurélien reached for his wallet with trembling fingers, pulled out the ultrasound photo. "She's pregnant, Maman. Eight weeks."

His mother stared at the picture he held out, not taking it. "Est-ce que tu es sûr que c'est-" ("Are you sure it's-")

"Yes." His voice was firm now. "It's mine. Naz isn't… she's not like that."

Josette finally took the ultrasound, her glasses sliding down her nose as she studied it. The silence stretched so long Aurélien thought he might explode.

"Does Simon know?"

Of all the first questions he'd expected, that wasn't one of them. "Not yet."

"Your father?"

"No. Just you and Uncle Bertrand."

She looked up sharply. "Bertrand knew before me?"

"He was there when… when everything happened." Another long silence.

Then his mother said: "What are you going to do?"

"That's… complicated. Naz hasn't decided if-"

"Ah." Understanding flooded his mother's face. "She's considering…"

"Yeah." His voice cracked slightly. "It's her choice, but…"

"But you want to keep it."

It wasn't a question. His mother had always been able to read him like a book.

"I know it's not ideal," he started. "I know the timing is terrible, and my career, and-"

"Aurélien." Josette held up a hand, stopping his ramble. She looked at the ultrasound again, then back at her son. "You're really ready for this? For everything it means?"

"No," he admitted. "But I want to be."

Josette stood suddenly, pacing the length of his living room. The ultrasound picture was still clutched in her hand.

"This girl-"

"Naz," he corrected gently.

"Naz," his mother amended. "Tell me about her. Not what the blogs say. Tell me who my son got into this situation with."

Aurélien shifted in his seat. "She's smart. Has her master's in psychology. She's half Cameroonian, half American-"

"Cameroon?" That got his mother's attention. "From where?"

"Douala, her mother's side."

"Hmm." She resumed her pacing. "And what does she want? Besides publicity in blogs?"

"Maman, I told you, that wasn't her." He ran a hand over his face. "She's actually… she's really private. Keeps to herself. The blogs were her friend's idea, and that was only because I…" He trailed off.

"Because you what?"

"I blocked her number," he admitted quietly. "When she was trying to tell me about… about the baby."

Josette stopped pacing. "Aurélien Djani Tchouaméni."

He winced. The full name. Never a good sign.

"You blocked a woman who was trying to tell you she was carrying your child?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant! I was angry about something else and-"

"Non, non, non." His mother switched fully into rapid French. "I did not raise you to behave this way. When a woman needs to speak with you, you listen. When she carries your child, you definitely listen!"

"I know, Maman. I fixed it. I flew to London as soon as I found out."

"London?" Her eyes narrowed. "She lives in London?"

"Yes."

"And you're in Madrid."

"Yes."

"And if she keeps this baby?"

The question he'd been asking himself since he first saw that heartbeat. "We'll figure it out. I can buy her a place here, or-"

"Buy her a- Aurélien!" Josette threw up her hands. "You can't just throw money at this situation!"

"I'm not! I just want to make sure she and the baby are taken care of-"

"The baby that she hasn't even decided to keep yet?"

That shut him up. His mother's expression softened as she saw something in his face.

"Ah," she said quietly, sitting back down. "This is why you're different. You really want this baby." He nodded, not trusting his voice. "Even though you're only twenty-four? Even though your career is just taking off?"

"Yes."

Josette studied him for a long moment. Then: "Show me a picture of her. The real her, not those blog photos."

He pulled out his phone, found his favorite picture of Naz – her curled up on his couch with Ocho, both of them napping in the afternoon sun. His mother took the phone, examining it carefully.

"She's beautiful," she said finally. "But scared, I think. Even in sleep."

"She is. Scared. About everything."

"As she should be." Josette handed back his phone but kept the ultrasound. "And you? Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

His honesty seemed to surprise her. "Good," she said. "Fear means you understand the weight of this. The responsibility."

"So you're not… disappointed?"

"Oh, I'm very disappointed." But she was smiling slightly now. "This is not how I imagined becoming a grandmother. But…" She looked at the ultrasound again. "If she chooses to keep it, this baby will be family. And we protect family."

Relief flooded through him. "Even if the timing is terrible?"

"Babies come when they come, Aurélien. Though next time, maybe consider marriage first?"

"Maman!"

"What? A mother can hope." Josette clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "I told both you and Yannis about protection. Every time! 'Maman, we know!' But clearly you didn't know!"

Aurélien slumped deeper into the couch.

"So what is the plan now? With Naz - you're getting married?"

He let out a groan, and his mother's eyes flashed.

"Oh, you groan? You can lay with her without protection and make a baby, but you groan when I try to right this wrong? You have to marry her, Aurélien."

"But we weren't together together..."

"Je m'en fous!" ("I don't care!") She pointed toward the stairs. "You laid up in your bedroom, as naked as I gave birth to you, and done the deed. You're a man now, making babies now. What will she be, a baby mama? Oh no, no no no. We'll call her mother and set up the proper ways. You will not-"

"Josette," Uncle Bertrand interrupted, coming in from the backyard. "I don't think them getting married right now is the best idea. Nazanin doesn't know what to do still." He turned to his nephew. "Explain to your mother, Djani."

Josette crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, explain to me because clearly I don't understand."

Aurélien sat up straighter, trying to find the right words. "Naz and I got together casually, just fu-" He caught himself as his mother's eyebrows shot up. "We were both busy with our careers. She was finishing her master's, and I would hit her up sometimes to hang out and... have relations-"

His mother rolled her eyes. "I don't care if you have relations with half the female population, you wear a condom anyway! Doesn't matter if it feels better without one or you want to-"

"Maman, please!" Aurélien covered his ears. "I get it."

"You don't get it because someone is knocked up! Aurélien, what is the plan here? Seriously."

He let out an exasperated breath, really thinking about it. "If Naz decides that she wants to keep it, I would tell her that I want to try to make this work – us together, as a couple. And if she wants to terminate..." His voice got quieter. "I'll be there too."

The living room fell silent. Josette studied her son's face, seeing something there that made her expression soften slightly. She sat down next to him, taking his hand.

"You care for this girl."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "Yeah. I do."

Josette patted his hand, her voice gentler now. "And before all this? What was stopping you from being together properly?"

"I don't know." Aurélien ran his free hand over his face. "Football, maybe? Her studies? The distance?"

"Excuses," his mother said flatly. "All of them."

"They're not-"

"If you care for her enough to want this baby, then these were excuses." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me something. When she comes to Madrid, where does she stay?"

"Here."

"And her things?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "She has… a drawer. And some space in my closet."

"Mhm. And Ocho?"

"Loves her. More than me sometimes, I think."

"And your uncle clearly knows her well enough to defend her."

Uncle Bertrand smiled from his spot by the door. "She's a good girl, Josette. Smart. Respectful. Challenges him when he needs it."

"So," Josette continued, "she stays here, has her things here, your dog loves her, your uncle approves, and yet you say you weren't together?" She shook her head. "Mon fils, for someone so tactical on the field, you can be very stupid off it."

"Maman!"

"Am I wrong? You had feelings for this girl before the baby, non?" Aurélien stayed quiet, which was answer enough. "And now there might be a baby, and you're ready to step up, but what if…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "What if she chooses not to keep it? What then?"

"I told you, I'll support-"

"No, Aurélien. After. Will you go back to this 'casual' arrangement? Continue pretending you don't have real feelings?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead. The idea of Naz terminating was painful enough without considering what came after.

"I don't want to lose her," he admitted quietly. "Either way."

Josette's expression softened completely. "Then tell her that. Not about the baby – about her. These feelings you're hiding behind 'casual' and 'just having relations.'" She made a face at the last part. "Be honest with her."

"But what if-"

"What if, what if!" She threw up her hands. "You footballers, always calculating every move. Sometimes you just have to take the shot, non?"

Uncle Bertrand chuckled. "She has a point, nephew."

Aurélien pulled out his phone, looking at his latest messages with Naz. She'd sent another nursery design, but hadn't responded to his last text about having dinner together next week.

"I should call her," he said.

"Yes, you should." Josette stood. "But first, you need to tell me exactly what you plan to do if she keeps this baby. Where will she live? What about her career? Have you thought about schools? Religion? How often would I see my grandchild?"

"Maman, it's too early for-"

"It's never too early to plan." She was in full mother-mode now. "And if you're going to do this, you'll do it properly. No grandchild of mine will have parents just 'hanging out' and 'having relations.'"

"Uncle," Aurélien pleaded.

Bertrand held up his hands. "Don't look at me. Your mother's right about this one. You need a real plan, not just nursery furniture and good intentions."

Josette nodded approvingly. "Now, call the girl. And put it on speaker – I want to hear her voice."

"Maman, no-"

"Speaker, Aurélien. Or I call her myself."

He stared at her in horror. "You wouldn't."

Her raised eyebrow said she absolutely would.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But please… be nice?"

"I'm always nice," Josette said primly. "I just also believe in doing things the right way."

As he dialed Naz's number, Aurélien couldn't help thinking that his mother's version of "the right way" might be exactly what scared Naz the most.

The phone rang three times before Naz's voice came through: "Aurél?"

"Hey." He shot his mother a warning look. "Um, you have a minute?"

"Yeah, just finished with the counselor actually." There was rustling in the background. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, but…" He took a deep breath. "My mother's here. She'd like to talk to you."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Oh." Naz's voice went up an octave. "Oh, um…"

"Bonjour, Nazanin," Josette cut in smoothly. "I hope you are well?"

"Madame Tchouaméni! I… yes, thank you. I'm well."

Aurélien could practically hear Naz fidgeting on the other end. His mother, however, was the picture of composure.

"Please, call me Josette. My son has told me about your… situation."

Another loaded silence. Then, quietly: "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Josette's voice sharpened slightly. "Making my son take responsibility for his actions?"

"Maman," Aurélien warned.

"No, no, let me finish." Josette leaned closer to the phone. "Nazanin, are you sorry about the baby, or sorry about how I found out?"

"I…" Naz's voice wavered. "Both? Neither? I don't know anymore."

Something in her tone must have touched Josette because her expression softened. "You sound tired, ma fille."

"It's been… a lot."

"Yes, I imagine it has." Josette glanced at Aurélien. "My son tells me you're still deciding."

"I am." Naz's voice steadied slightly. "I know that's probably not what you want to hear, but-"

"What I want," Josette interrupted gently, "is for both you and my son to make the right decision. Not the easy one, but the right one. Whatever that may be."

Aurélien stared at his mother in surprise. This wasn't the lecture he'd expected.

"I…" Naz seemed equally thrown. "Thank you?"

"Don't thank me yet. If you keep this baby, we will have many discussions about doing things properly. But first, you need to decide. And you need to be honest – with yourself and with my son."

"I'm trying to be."

"Good. Now, put your address in the phone. I'm sending you some ginger tea for the morning sickness."

Aurélien could practically hear Naz's jaw drop. "How did you know about-"

"I've had three children, chérie. I know." Josette's smile was audible. "And we West African mothers, we take care of our own. Even the ones who aren't sure they want to be mothers yet."

The small sob that came through the speaker had Aurélien reaching for the phone, but his mother caught his wrist.

"Nazanin?" she said softly. "Are you there?"

"Yes," Naz managed. "I'm here. I just… my own mother…"

"Ah." Josette's expression turned knowing. "She doesn't know?"

"No. She'll… she won't…"

"Then for now, you have me. Whether you keep this baby or not. D'accord?"

This time the sob was definitely louder. Aurélien's heart clenched – he'd never heard Naz cry like this, not even during their long night of planning.

"Now, now," Josette soothed. "No more tears. Save them for when the hormones really kick in. Aurélien, get the girl some water."

"Maman, she's in London-"

"Then call someone to bring her water! Honestly, do I have to think of everything?"

Naz's wet laugh came through the speaker. "I'm okay, really. Just… thank you. For not hating me."

"Hate you? Ma fille, you might be giving me my first grandchild. Or you might not. Either way, you're important to my son, so you're important to me." Josette paused. "But we will talk about protection later."

"Maman!"

"What? If you're old enough to make babies, you're old enough to discuss how to not make them."

"Oh my god," Naz whispered, but she was definitely laughing now.

"Send the address," Josette instructed. "The tea helps, I promise. And Nazanin?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever you decide… you're not alone. Comprends?"

"Oui," Naz replied softly. "Je comprends."

After the call ended, Josette sat quietly for a moment, then turned to her son. "You didn't tell me her mother doesn't know."

Aurélien slumped back into the couch. "She's scared to tell her. Her mom's… strict. Traditional."

"More traditional than me?" Josette raised an eyebrow.

"Different kind of traditional. More like…" He searched for the right words. "She left America to get away from her mom's expectations. The pressure to be perfect."

"And now she's pregnant by a footballer." Josette's voice held new understanding. "No wonder she's terrified."

Uncle Bertrand, who'd been quiet during the call, finally spoke up. "She's a good girl, Josette. Just young and scared."

"Young?" His mother scoffed. "They're both children playing at being adults." But her tone was softer now. "Though I suppose that's how all first-time parents feel."

Aurélien's head snapped up. "You think she'll keep it?"

"I think…" Josette chose her words carefully. "I think she wants to. I heard it in her voice. But wanting something and being ready for it are different things."

"I can help her be ready," Aurélien said quickly. "I can-"

"Buy her things? Give her money?" His mother shook her head. "That girl needs more than material support, Aurélien. She needs to know she won't be doing this alone."

"I told her that already-"

"But did you show her?" Josette fixed him with that penetrating look she'd perfected over years of motherhood. "Or did you just say the words?"

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Had he really shown Naz she wouldn't be alone? Or had he just thrown solutions at her – cribs and apartments and vague promises?

"The tea will help," his mother continued, already typing on her phone. "But what she really needs is to know she has family here. Real family, not just the father of her baby trying to do the right thing."

"I'm not just-"

"I know." Josette's voice gentled. "I see how you look when you talk about her. But does she?"

Uncle Bertrand cleared his throat. "Perhaps, nephew, instead of showing Nazanin nursery furniture, you should show her what her life could be like here. With all of us."

"A proper family dinner," Josette decided. "When she's next in Madrid. I'll cook."

Aurélien felt a flash of panic. "Maman, she hasn't even decided if-"

"Dinner has nothing to do with the baby," his mother cut in firmly. "This is about the girl my son cares for meeting his family properly. The rest…" She waved a hand. "That will come as it comes."

He stared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

Josette swatted his arm. "I can be reasonable when I choose to be." Then her expression turned serious again. "But Aurélien?"

"Oui?"

"If she keeps this baby, you make it right. Not just with money or things, but with your heart. Comprends?"

He thought about Naz's laugh, about how she danced in his kitchen, about how Ocho followed her everywhere. About how empty his house felt when she left.

"Je comprends, Maman." He pulled out his phone, looking at their earlier messages about nursery furniture. Deleted the draft about crib prices. Instead, he typed: Miss you. Come for dinner next week? Maman wants to cook for you.

The response came quickly: Really?

Really. No pressure about anything else. Just dinner. Family dinner.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Then: I'd like that.

He showed the exchange to his mother, who nodded approvingly.

"Good," she said. "Now, about that ginger tea…"

The airport pickup felt different this time. Usually, these reunions were just them, but now his whole family – parents, sister Anne Maisha, and brother Yannis – were waiting back at his house. Plus, his ankle was wrapped from the sprain that kept him out of the Leganés match, though the 3-0 win had lifted his spirits.

Naz looked tired when she came through arrivals, the morning sickness evident in her face, but her eyes still lit up when she saw him.

"Even with a limp, you're still fine as hell," she said as they drove back, making him laugh.

"This kind of talk is what got us here," he teased.

She chuckled. "Who knew that a Mallorcan balcony would lead to all this?" She gestured vaguely at her still-flat stomach.

Aurélien licked his lips, memories of that weekend flooding back. They'd had some good times, him and Naz. Really good times.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, forcing himself to focus on the present.

"Still nauseous. The ginger tea your mom sent helps though."

"And the… the counselor?"

She straightened in her seat, rattling off information like she was giving a report. "They explained the procedure. The risks. The timeline. How they…" She trailed off as he winced slightly, though he tried to keep his face neutral.

"Sounds intense," he managed.

"Yeah," she replied, barely audible.

"Still deciding?"

She shrugged, turning to look out the window at the Madrid streets passing by. "We need to have another talk, Aurel."

"Sure." He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "After dinner? We can sit down properly."

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, both of them lost in thoughts about what that talk might bring.

"Your whole family's here," Naz said quietly, fidgeting with her bracelet. "Like, your whole family."

"They want to meet you properly." He reached over to squeeze her hand. "No pressure about anything else, remember?"

Before she could respond, the front door opened and Ocho bounded out, making a beeline for Naz. She laughed as he jumped up to lick her face, the sound easing some of the tension.

"Traitor," Aurélien muttered to his dog. "I'm injured and you go straight to her."

"He knows who gives the best belly rubs," Naz teased, then froze as more figures appeared in the doorway.

Anne Maisha came first, Aurélien's sister practically bouncing with excitement. "Finally! I've been dying to meet the girl who's got my brother buying baby furniture!"

"Maisha," Aurélien warned, but Naz managed a small smile.

"Nice to meet you."

"Come in, come in!" That was his mother, wiping her hands on her apron. "The food will get cold."

The house was chaos – the good kind, the kind that meant family. His father, Fernand, was gesturing animatedly about the Leganés match, his thick French accent getting heavier as he argued with Yannis about tactics. Uncle Bertrand stirred something on the stove that smelled like heaven.

"Sit, sit," Josette commanded, pulling out a chair. "You must be hungry, non? With the morning sickness-"

"Maman," Aurélien started, but Naz touched his arm.

"It's okay." She turned to Josette. "That tea you sent? Life-changing."

His mother practically glowed.

"Nazanin," Fernand approached, his accent wrapping around her name carefully. "Welcome to the madhouse."

"Thanks for having me," Naz replied as he kissed both her cheeks.

Yannis, fresh from whatever basketball footage he'd been analyzing dropped into the chair next to her. "So you're the one who finally got my brother to settle down?"

"Yannis!" Three voices snapped at once.

"What? Just saying what everyone's thinking."

Dinner flowed easier after that, his family's natural warmth breaking through the awkwardness. His mother kept loading Naz's plate, muttering about her being too thin. Uncle Bertrand produced some mysterious green drink that had Naz raising her eyebrows.

"Family recipe," he said with a wink. "Trust me."

Anne Maisha dominated most of the conversation, bouncing between stories about her MBA program and asking Naz about her psychology background. Yannis chimed in with tales from his senior year so far at boarding school in the States, complete with his plans for universities.

But underneath it all, Aurélien could feel it – the weight of what wasn't being said. The careful way everyone avoided certain topics. The way Naz's hand would sometimes drift to her stomach before jerking away.

"This is amazing," Naz said to Josette, gesturing to her plate.

"Next time I teach you," his mother replied. "You come more often, learn the recipes."

The unspoken if hung in the air: If you stay. If you keep the baby. If you become family.

Under the table, Naz's fingers found his, squeezing tight. Their talk after dinner loomed ahead of them, heavy with possibility and fear.

But at least she'd seen this – seen that she wouldn't just be getting him, but all of this. A whole family that would have her back.

He just hoped it would be enough to make her stay.

After dinner, they escaped to the backyard. His family had taken the hint when Naz mentioned needing air, though Aurélien caught his mother watching through the kitchen window before Uncle Bertrand pulled her away.

They sat on the patio chairs, the Madrid night warm around them. Ocho curled up at Naz's feet like he knew she needed the support.

"Your family's nice," she said finally. "Like, really nice."

"Yeah, when they're not being nosy as hell." He shifted his wrapped ankle. "Sorry about Yannis. He has no filter."

"It's cool. Better than Destiny's commentary." She picked at a thread on her sweater. "She keeps sending me abortion clinic reviews like Yelp ratings."

Aurélien's jaw tightened. "You still talking to her?"

"Not really. Not after…" She gestured vaguely. "Everything."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sound of his family inside and Ocho's soft snoring.

"The counselor," Naz started, then stopped. Took a breath. "She wanted me to think about what I want. Not what my mom would want, or what looks good, or what's easiest. Just… what I want."

Aurélien's heart thundered in his chest. "And?"

"And I think…" She finally looked at him, really looked at him. "I think I want to keep the baby."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her voice shook slightly. "I know it's crazy. I know the timing is terrible, and we're not even really together, and my career's barely started, but… but I saw that heartbeat, Aurel. And your mom sent that tea, and your family's so warm, and you keep sending me nursery stuff…"

He reached for her hand, relief making him dizzy. "We can figure it out. All of it."

"But what if we can't? What if it's too much? What if-"

"Naz." He tugged her closer, until she was perched on the arm of his chair. "Whatever happens, you've got me. Got my whole nosy-ass family too, apparently."

She laughed wetly. "Your mom's already planning to teach me recipes."

"Yeah, well, wait till she starts with the marriage talks."

Naz stiffened slightly. "Aurel…"

"Not now," he said quickly. "Not because of the baby. But maybe… maybe we could try being together for real? See where it goes?"

"You mean like… dating?"

"Yeah. Actual dates, not just me flying you out for sex on balconies."

She smacked his arm, but she was smiling. "That balcony got us into this mess."

"Worth it though." His hand found her stomach, still flat under her sweater. "Right?"

Instead of answering, she leaned down and kissed him – their first real kiss since that day in the clinic. When she pulled back, her eyes were still wet but her smile was real.

"Your mom's definitely watching us right now, isn't she?"

"One hundred percent."

They both laughed, and something in Aurélien's chest loosened. It wasn't perfect – they still had so much to figure out, so many details to work through. But Naz was keeping the baby. Their baby.

And maybe, just maybe, they were keeping each other too.

The living room felt too warm, too full of expectant faces when they came back inside. Aurélien's hand was steady at the small of her back, but Naz could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. This was real. They were doing this.

"We're keeping it," Aurélien announced, his voice steady despite everything. "We're having a baby."

The reactions came in waves. Anne Maisha squealed, already talking about being the coolest aunt. Yannis muttered something that sounded like "about time" before breaking into a grin. Uncle Bertrand's face split into that knowing smile he'd worn since finding out.

But it was Fernand's reaction that caught Naz's attention. Aurélien's father's face was a complex mix of emotions – worry, resignation, and something that might have been pride. He approached his son slowly, clapping him on the shoulder. Not quite approval, but respect.

"You will make it work," he said, his French accent thicker with emotion. "Both of you."

That's when it started to hit her. Really hit her. They were having a baby. A whole human being. And Monday she had to go back to work like nothing had changed, had to face her roommate who'd been weird ever since finding out about those abortion pamphlets in the trash. Would she have to move out? Where would she go?

Madrid, obviously. That's where Aurélien was. But her Spanish was barely good enough to order coffee, let alone find work. Would she become one of those footballer's girlfriends who just… existed? Shopping and lunch dates and play groups? She'd worked so hard for her degree, for her career-

"Naz." Aurélien's voice seemed to come from far away.

She looked up at him, really looked at him. God, he was beautiful. That was her first thought when she saw him at Cama's party – how unfairly beautiful he was. Those dark eyes that could read a football field like poetry now read her just as easily. That smile that had first made her heart skip now carried an edge of worry. He wanted to try for real – no more casual hookups, no more just fooling around.

Shame it took a baby to get here, though he had mentioned wanting more anyway. But a baby would complicate everything. Change everything. Ruin everything? No, not ruin, but-

"Naz, bébé," he said again, more urgently now. "You're having an anxiety attack."

Was she? This didn't feel like her usual anxiety. Usually she could talk herself down, use her psychology training to identify triggers and responses and-

"Naz, deep breaths, chérie." Josette's voice cut through the chaos in her head, gentle but firm.

When had she sat down on the couch? She didn't remember moving, but here she was, Josette's hands guiding her to lean forward slightly.

Uncle Bertrand appeared with water, but her hands were shaking too badly to hold the glass. When had that started? The trembling? Aurélien took the glass, helping her take small sips, his other hand rubbing circles on her back.

"Nazanin, chérie, I need you to take deep breaths, okay?" Josette demonstrated, exaggerated breaths that Naz tried desperately to copy. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Simple. Basic. Why couldn't she make it work?

"Nazanin, you really need to relax. Your heart rate is too high." Fernand's voice came from beside her – when had he sat down? When had he taken her wrist to check her pulse?

The room felt like it was spinning. Too many faces, too many voices, too many thoughts crashing into each other. Work. Baby. Moving. Spanish. Career. Aurélien. Future. Changes. So many changes.

Her eyes found Aurélien's face again, panic rising up her throat like bile. "We're having a baby?" It came out confused, uncertain, like she was asking a question she should already know the answer to.

"Yes, you and me are going to have a baby, Nazanin." His smile was meant to be reassuring, but she could see the fear in his eyes, the worry for her. His hands found hers, steady despite everything. "Maman, what's going on?" His voice seemed to echo strangely.

"Aurélien, we need to calm her down-" Fernand started, but his voice was fading, like someone was turning down the volume of the world.

Spots danced at the edges of her vision. Someone was saying her name – multiple someones? The room tilted sideways, or maybe she did. The last thing she saw was Aurélien's terrified face as he lunged to catch her, his "Naz!" following her into the darkness as worried gasps filled the room.

She thought she heard Josette calling for someone to call an ambulance, heard Fernand saying something about blood pressure and stress, heard Aurélien's voice close to her ear saying words she couldn't quite grasp.

Then nothing.

Just the quiet dark, and the lingering thought that this wasn't how telling the family was supposed to go. This wasn't how any of it was supposed to go.

But then again, when had anything about them followed the expected path?

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

The steady beep of hospital monitors pulled Naz back to consciousness. Everything felt heavy – her limbs, her eyelids, even her thoughts.

"She's waking up," she heard Josette say softly. "Aurélien-"

"I'm here." His voice was close, followed by the warmth of his hand wrapping around hers. "Hey, bébé."

Naz forced her eyes open, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. Aurélien's worried face came into focus first, then the rest of the private room behind him. Of course, he'd gotten her a private room.

"What..." Her throat felt dry.

"Severe panic attack," Fernand's voice came from somewhere to her left. "Combined with dehydration and low blood pressure. Not good for you or the baby."

The baby. Right. That's what started all this.

"Is it-" She couldn't finish the question.

"Le bébé va bien," Josette assured her quickly. "They did an ultrasound while you were out. Everything's fine."

Naz tried to sit up, but Aurélien's hand on her shoulder kept her down. "Easy. Doctor said you need to rest."

"How long was I..."

"Few hours." His thumb traced circles on her palm. "Scared the shit out of me."

"Language," Josette chided automatically, but there was no heat in it.

Naz looked around the room properly now. Josette was perched in a chair by the window, prayer beads moving silently through her fingers. Fernand stood near the door as he studied her monitors. And Aurélien... Aurélien hadn't changed out of his dinner clothes, his expensive shirt wrinkled from hours of hospital chairs.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Made them go home," Aurélien said. "Uncle Bertrand took Yannis and Maisha back to the villa. No point in everyone camping out here."

"You should have gone too," she told him. "Your ankle-"

He gave her a look that silenced that line of thought immediately.

"The doctor wants to keep you overnight," Fernand said, switching to his careful English. "For observation. And tomorrow, we make plans."

"Plans?"

"To prevent this from happening again." Josette's voice was gentle but firm. "This stress, this anxiety... it's not good for either of you."

"I'm fine, I just-"

"You're not fine," Aurélien cut in. "You haven't been fine. I should have seen it sooner."

"Aurel-"

"No, listen." He perched carefully on the edge of her bed. "All this time I've been showing you cribs and nursery stuff, but we haven't really talked about the real things. Your job, where you'll live, how we'll make this work. I just assumed..."

"We both assumed," she admitted quietly.

"So now we plan," Josette declared. "Properly. But first, you rest."

A nurse came in then, speaking rapid Spanish that had Aurélien translating: "She needs to check your vitals."

"We'll give you some privacy," Fernand said, guiding his wife toward the door. "Aurélien?"

"I'm staying."

His parents exchanged a look that spoke volumes before leaving. The nurse worked efficiently, checking monitors and IVs, speaking softly to Aurélien who translated everything.

When they were alone again, Naz finally asked the question that had been burning since she woke up: "Are you mad?"

"Mad?" He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I be mad?"

"For freaking out. For ending up here. For not being strong enough to-"

"Stop." His voice was firm. "You're one of the strongest people I know. But you don't have to be strong alone anymore."

Tears pricked at her eyes. Damn hormones. "I don't know how to do this, Aurel. Any of it."

"Neither do I." He shifted to lie beside her on the narrow hospital bed, careful of her IV. "But maybe that's okay? Maybe we figure it out together?"

"Your family probably thinks I'm crazy."

He actually laughed at that. "Bébé, my family's already planning your move to Madrid. Maman's making lists of doctors. Uncle Bertrand's talking about good school districts. They're not going anywhere."

"And you?"

He turned his head to look at her properly. "I'm right here. Where else would I be?"

The monitors showed her heart rate picking up slightly, but this time it wasn't from panic.

"We should probably talk about everything," she said. "Like, really talk."

"Tomorrow." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Right now, you need to rest. Doctor's orders."

"Since when do you follow orders?"

"Since they involve you and our baby."

Our baby. The words didn't feel quite so scary anymore. Still terrifying, still overwhelming, but maybe... maybe also a little bit wonderful?

"Aurel?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks for staying."

His answer was another kiss, this one to her forehead. "Always, bébé. Always."

Morning in the hospital brought more tests, more monitors, and the unexpected sight of Eduardo Camavinga and Jude Bellingham trying to sneak a massive bouquet through her door without being noticed by nurses.

"Yo," Cama said, his usual bouncy energy somewhat subdued. "We, uh… brought flowers?"

Naz was propped up in bed, feeling marginally more human after a night of fluids and rest. Aurélien had finally gone home to shower and change, though not without making his mother promise to stay with her.

"You two look guilty as hell," she observed.

"Yeah, well…" Jude shuffled his feet, looking very un-Jude-like in his uncertainty. "We kind of acted like proper dickheads, didn't we?"

"Kind of?"

"Okay, we were total dickheads," Cama admitted, setting the flowers down. "Going ghost when you tried to reach out? Not cool."

"Really not cool," Jude added.

"Like, massively uncool."

"The uncoolest."

"You done?" Naz asked, but she was fighting a smile.

They both dropped into the visitor chairs, looking appropriately chastised. Josette, who'd been quietly doing her crossword by the window, excused herself with a knowing look.

"We thought…" Cama started, then stopped, looking at Jude for help.

"We thought we had to choose sides," Jude finished. "Which was stupid because there weren't even sides to choose."

"Mad stupid," Cama agreed. "And then we talked to Aurel yesterday, how scared he was when you passed out-"

"And we realized we weren't just being shit friends to you," Jude continued. "We were being shit friends to both of you."

Naz picked at her blanket. "You're his teammates. It makes sense you'd-"

"Nah, fuck that." Cama leaned forward. "You're family too. Have been since you started coming around. We just got caught up in some dumb guy code shit."

"Really dumb," Jude emphasized. "Like, embarrassingly dumb."

"The dumbest."

"Now who's done?" Naz asked, but she was properly smiling now.

"For real though," Cama's voice went serious. "We're sorry. And we're here now. Whatever you need."

"Both of you," Jude added. "You and the little footballer."

Naz's hand drifted to her stomach automatically. "You know about…"

"Aurel told us at training. Before…" Cama gestured vaguely at the hospital room. "All this."

"He was proper excited about it," Jude said softly. "Never seen him like that."

"Really?"

"He showed us ultrasound pictures," Cama laughed. "Like proud dad status already."

Something warm bloomed in Naz's chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Even when we were being dicks about DNA tests and-" Cama cut off as Jude elbowed him hard. "Ow! What? I'm admitting I was wrong!"

"You suggested a DNA test?" Naz's voice went flat.

"I was being stupid! Really stupid! Like, maximum stupidity!"

"The stupidest," Jude added helpfully.

"But Aurel shut that down quick," Cama hurried on. "Like, scary quick. Said he knew you, trusted you. Said we didn't know shit about what you two had."

"And he was right," Jude said. "We didn't know shit. Still don't, really. But we want to. If you'll let us?"

Naz studied them both – Cama with his nervous energy, Jude with his earnest face. These boys who'd become such a big part of her life through Aurélien, who she'd missed more than she'd want to admit.

"The flowers are a good start," she said finally.

Their relief was palpable. Cama immediately launched into stories about what she'd missed – training drama, club gossip, Jude's latest attempts at Spanish that had nearly given their language coach an aneurysm.

It felt… normal. Like before. Except now when Cama got too loud, Jude would shush him with "Hospital, mate!" And when the nurse came in to check vitals, they both hovered like worried brothers.

"So," Cama said when things settled again. "You're keeping it?"

"Yeah." Naz's hand found her stomach again. "We are."

"Cool, cool." He tried to look casual. "And like, hypothetically, if someone wanted to be godfather…"

"Already calling dibs?" Aurélien's voice came from the doorway, freshly showered and carrying what looked like half a bakery's worth of pastries.

"Just putting it out there!" Cama defended. "Getting my bid in early!"

"Mate, if anyone's godfather material here, it's obviously me," Jude argued.

"The fuck you are! I've known them longer!"

"Yeah but I'm more responsible-"

"Maybe we should let the actual parents decide?" Naz suggested, catching Aurélien's amused look.

"Or maybe," he said, setting down the pastries, "we focus on getting you out of here first? Doctor's coming by soon to talk about discharge."

That sobered everyone up. Reality crashing back in – decisions to make, plans to figure out.

But looking at them all – Aurélien's steady presence, Cama's boundless energy, Jude's quiet support – Naz felt something settle in her chest.

"So..." Cama shifted in his chair, looking unusually uncomfortable. "About Destiny..."

"What about her?" Naz's voice went flat. Just hearing that name made her tense.

Cama and Jude exchanged looks.

"She's, uh..." Jude started.

"She's been hanging around training," Cama finished. "With Vini."

Naz blinked. "What?"

"With Vinicius," Aurélien clarified, his jaw tightening. "They're... together."

"Together?" Naz's voice went up an octave. "Like... together together?"

"If you could say that," Cama nodded. "Started showing up about a week ago. All over him and shit."

"Fucking hell," Naz whispered, then let out a laugh that held no humor. "So she went from trying to trap you," she looked at Cama, "to actually getting with Vini to trap him?"

"Wait, she tried to trap-" Jude started.

"Long story," Cama cut in quickly. "But yeah. She's... around now."

"Does Vini know?" Naz asked. "About what she did with the blogs?"

The boys exchanged another look.

"He knows something came out about you and Aurel," Jude said carefully. "But not that she was behind it."

"Should probably tell him though," Cama added. "Before she tries some other shit."

"It's not my place," Naz said, picking at her blanket. "If she makes him happy..."

"She doesn't make anyone happy," Aurélien's voice was sharp. "She causes problems. Look what she did to you."

"Aurel-"

"No, he's right," Cama leaned forward. "What she did? Putting your business out there like that? That wasn't cool. And now she's acting like nothing happened, trying to be all serious with Vini..."

"While you're in here dealing with real shit," Jude finished.

Naz felt tears pricking at her eyes. Damn hormones. "I just... I thought she was my friend, you know?"

"Nah," Cama shook his head. "Real friends don't do what she did. Real friends show up when you need them."

"Like we should have," Jude added quietly.

"Better late than never," Naz managed a small smile.

"Still," Cama stood up, pacing now. "Someone should tell Vini. She's already trying to get into the WAGs group chat, acting like she's been around forever."

"The what now?"

"The wives and girlfriends group," Aurélien explained. "They have a chat."

"Which Destiny's definitely not getting added to," Cama said firmly. "Not after what she pulled."

"The girls already said no way," Jude added. "They've got your back, Naz."

"They do?"

"Course they do," Aurélien moved closer to her bed. "They've been asking about you. Want to help when... you know. When we announce everything properly."

The reality of that hit her. Soon everyone would know – not just about her and Aurélien, but about the baby. The thought made her head spin a bit.

"One thing at a time," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Aurélien squeezed her hand. "One thing at a time."

But knowing Destiny was out there, probably plotting her next move, made Naz's stomach turn. Or maybe that was just morning sickness. Hard to tell these days.

The doctor's visit came as a welcome interruption, discussing discharge plans and follow-up care. Aurélien translated the more technical terms, his hand never leaving hers.

Later, driving back to his place, Naz finally brought up what had been weighing on her. "What's your PR team doing about all this?"

"We're focusing on us and the baby," he said firmly. "Making it work. You just tell me and Simon if people get weird."

"Like with death threats?"

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You've been getting those?"

"Not really, but trolls have been calling me a 'cum bucket' and 'dirty whore' so I think death threats are the next step?" She tried for humor, but Aurélien wasn't having it.

"Nazanin, this is serious. We're growing a baby together. If someone hurt either one of you-"

"I know, Aurélien. I'll let you know."

Silence fell as they stopped at a red light.

"Should I stay at home then? To not make this worse?"

"Make what worse?"

"When I get bigger? Should I stay home?"

"Why? You're not a hermit."

"The press will-"

"I don't give a fuck about them. Why would I have you stay at home because you're pregnant? No, you're still gonna do what you've always done: come to matches, hang out with friends. I'm not going to hide you or our baby. Not anymore. If they don't like it, fuck them."

The light turned green and he started driving again.

"So you will like seeing me big and pregnant at your matches?" she asked, voice turning playful, hormones making her bold.

His eyes cut to her for the briefest second, a grin playing at his lips. "Naz... my family is at the house." Not a warning, just a reminder.

"I can be quiet," she muttered, thinking he couldn't hear.

"Nasty gyal Naz," he teased.

"At least we don't have to worry about condoms anymore."

He chuckled. "We wasn't worried about them before anyways... but noted." He tilted his head. "If you can be quiet..."

"Yeah?"

"I might can swing some dick your way..."

"Oh? Just some?"

"All of it if you're a good girl."

"I can be a good girl."

He glanced at her again, licking his lips. "You're about to get fucked in this car if you keep acting like this, Nazanin."

"And if this was the goal...?"

"NAZ!" The sound was somewhere between a shriek and a groan.

"Okay, okay. I'll be good... for daddy." She said the last part teasingly.

Aurélien shook his head. "Mon dieu."

But his smile said he wasn't really complaining. After everything – the hospital, the stress, the decisions – this felt normal. Them being them, despite everything changing.

The moment they walked through the door, Anne Maisha and Yannis practically ambushed them, wrapping Naz in careful hugs.

"Easy," Aurélien warned, hovering like a protective shadow. "She needs rest."

"I'm fine-" Naz started, but he was already in full leader mode, the same energy he brought to the pitch now focused entirely on her wellbeing.

"Nap time," he declared, brooking no argument. "We'll be upstairs."

Neither of his siblings argued – they knew that tone as well as anyone.

The moment they hit his bedroom though, Naz was on him, rising to her tiptoes to press kisses along his neck. Her hands roamed under his shirt, seeking warm skin, but he caught her wrists gently.

"Naz," his voice was soft but firm. "We need to talk first… then maybe we can do something a little later."

She pouted but let him guide her to sit on the bed. "Fine. Talk."

He sat next to her, keeping hold of one of her hands. "We need a real plan. Not just nursery furniture and maybes."

"I know." She picked at his comforter with her free hand. "My lease in London…"

"I'll handle the lease. Pay whatever penalty-"

"Aurel, I can't just leave Kiki hanging. She's been a good roommate."

"Then we help her find someone new. Or I cover both parts until she does." When she started to protest, he squeezed her hand. "Naz, money isn't the issue here. Making sure you and the baby are taken care of is."

"But what am I supposed to do here? My Spanish is shit, finding work-"

"There are international companies in Madrid. Clinics that need English-speaking therapists. Or you could work remotely with London clients." He'd clearly been thinking about this. "Whatever you want to do, we'll make it work."

"I don't want to just… exist on your money."

"I know. That's one of the things I lo-" He caught himself. "That's one of the things I admire about you. But right now, let me help. Let me make sure you're both safe and comfortable while you figure out what you want."

She looked at him properly then, at the earnestness in his face. "You've really thought about this."

"Had a lot of time to think in that hospital chair." His thumb traced circles on her palm. "Watching you hooked up to those monitors… scared the shit out of me, Naz. Made me realize we need to do this right."

"And right means…?"

"You here. With me. Building something real, not just flying in for weekends and hookups." He shifted to face her fully. "I want to do this properly. All of it."

"Properly?" Naz raised an eyebrow. "You sound like your mom."

"Naz…"

"What? What does 'properly' even mean?"

He shifted to face her fully. "It means I want to do this right. Actually date you, not just weekend hookups and FaceTime calls."

"Since when?"

"Remember that weekend in Paris? When you wore that red dress to dinner?"

She remembered. Four months ago, before all this. He'd flown her out after a tough match, said he needed to get away for a bit.

"You were thinking about us being serious back then?"

"I was thinking about a lot of things." His hand found her stomach. "Just didn't know how to say them without fucking everything up."

"And now?"

"Now we're having a baby. Now you're moving to Madrid. Now seems like a good time to stop pretending this isn't exactly what I want."

"What about football? Your career?"

"What about it? You think I'm the first player to have a family?"

"But the pressure-"

"Is already there. Will always be there." He shifted closer. "But coming home to you? To our baby? That makes it worth it."

"Even with all the complications? The distance until I can move? Finding work? Learning Spanish?"

"We take it one step at a time." His voice was steady, sure. "First, we get you moved. I'll handle the lease, help Kiki find a new roommate. You focus on packing, on staying healthy."

"And work?"

"Take your time. Find something that fits. Maybe start with remote clients from London while you learn Spanish?" He grinned. "Though your accent is kind of cute."

"Shut up," but she was smiling too.

"Then we look at houses."

That stopped her. "Houses?"

"This place is great for now, but eventually? We'll need more space. A bigger yard for the baby-"

"Aurel, slow down!"

"Sorry." But he didn't look sorry at all. "Just… I can see it, you know? Us building something real. If you want that too."

She studied his face – the hope there, the certainty. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of the best midfielders in the world, talking about their future together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I do want it," she admitted softly. "It just… scares me sometimes. How much I want it."

"Good." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Means it matters."

"Your mom's going to be impossible about all this."

He laughed. "Already is. Pretty sure she's planning the baby shower already."

"And the team?"

"Are family too. You saw Cama and Jude today. Even the WAGs want to help."

"God, the WAGs." She groaned. "I'm going to be a WAG."

"You're going to be whatever you want to be. My girl, a mom, a therapist, anything else you dream up. The WAG thing? That's just… extra."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Well yeah. Unless that's moving too fast…" His teasing smile made her roll her eyes.

"We're literally having a baby."

"True. But I still want to take you on proper dates. Do this right."

She nodded against his chest. "I'd like that."

"Good." His voice dropped lower. "So about that 'something later' I promised…"

"Oh, now you want to-"

His kiss cut off her teasing, and suddenly plans and futures and complications didn't seem quite so important anymore.

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

[kelperings]

oh i never ever do these LMFAOO HANG ON LET ME LOCK IN CHAT. im scared to tag people so i will just be answering these point blankHAHA. HOPE THATS OKAY.

Last Song: last song i listened to was “the way things are” by fiona apple

Last Book: I DONT READ BOOKS. AT ALL. i cant physically get myself to focus, script read throughs at college are hellish. so last thing i read was the pippin (broadway revival) script!!

Last Movie: also not a movie watcher for the same reason. i think the last one i watched all the way was sonic 3 in cinemas!!

Last Game: stardew!! i played that today w my cousin and played sdr2 with my sister before that. been playing some roblox recently though when i can fit it in my packed schedule.

Last TV Show: again, short attention span unless hyperfixated on inBSHWHWJW. squid game was the last show i watched in its entirety

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: hmm it depends how im feeling honestly, i prefer savoury over sweet but i LOVE chocolate. i can handle most spices but it can put me off when im not expecting it

Favourite Colour: i like pink!! even though everything on my accounts are blue

Last Internet Search: “steam password requirements” because i was trying to figure out my password HAHW

TAG GAME - 10 People I'd Like to Know Better

thank you for tagging me @zorua-adorable !

Last Song: anna sun by WALK THE MOON

Last Book: junji ito's lovesickness collection

Last Movie: descendants 3 lmao

Last Game: fire emblem: path of radiance

Last TV Show: alice in borderland

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: sweet 100%. i have such a sweet tooth it's a bit of a problem

Relationship: single and not planning on changing that any time soon

Favorite Color: purple 💜

Last Internet Search: fahrenheit to celsius

no pressure tags: @ambeer6 @biblicallyaccurate-candylady @in-a-bucket @nerdofmanymediumsandfandoms @rencatuive @tophats-tea @biggestlen @bleuflowerfields @hqwthornes @asexual-shelly

[dead-inside-demiboy]

Okay, in kinda a reference to my last post on the topic, I am curious about the experience of other aces, since I dont know many sex positive ace-specs irl.

[laambfuzz]

—- dilf next door. ft ted nivison. ᝰ

summary: after months you finally have a next-door neighbour again! you weren't expecting it to be a recentlly divorced dilf, though. turns out you have quite the effect on him. explains why he's jerking off to you from the window.

— tags: smut/pwp, dilf!ted, ted is a perv, masturbation, light dirty talk, objectifcation,

authors note: you guys said you'd be interested in dilf ted, so here you go!! still just some headcanons for now, but i tried to make it a lil longer as a treat. hope you all enjoy, and don't forget to lmk your thoughts! ໒꒰ྀི ╹ ˕╹ ꒱ྀིა

it started off as something simple and innocent

recently someone had moved next door to you, which was great! you hadn't had a next-door neighbour in months now

you had baked cookies for them, a small welcoming gift from yourself, and so you could let them know you were just next door if you were needed

and as soon as the door opened—

oh. he was fucking handsome

he was tall— over a head taller than you anyways— glasses slightly askew, fluffy brown hair and a grown out moustache to round it all off

he leaned against the doorframe with a surprised expression, sweet smile on his face

"oh? these are for me?" he asks after a moment of silence, eyeing the cookies

however you were holding them at your chest, so you couldn't tell where he was looking

(it was absolutely at your chest)

you finally stutter out a response, a small "oh! yes— yes, they're for you!" as you hand over the tray, as well as letting him know you're next door if he ever needs you

you watch as his eyes quickly trail your frame, before his smile grows and he gives you a wink

"appreciate it, thank you," he nods, and the conversation is quickly over

he seemed sweet enough, if you ignore the fact you couldn't tell he was looking at your tits

but it's fine, you tell yourself. you're just overthinking

you were, in fact, not overthinking

ted watches as you walk back to your house, eyes lingering on your hips as they sway back and forth

the rest of the night, he's left thinking about what it'd be like to hold your soft sides as he pounds into you

but whoa, hey

he's getting ahead of himself, but he passes it off as divorce blues. said divorce blues just being fucking horny

couldn't give a shit about his ex, not after how she treated him, and how she lied to their kids

anyways.

ted has a morning routine, where the first thing he does is go to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee. something he had done for years

usually he'd just read the morning paper, or have a scroll on his phone, which he did do after the move

so now it had been a couple of weeks since he had moved in, and he was still in his routine

but this morning, when he was walking by to sit at the coffee table, something outside caught his eye

he took a few steps back, peering through the kitchen window to see what it was

lo and behold— it was you, wearing skimpy shorts and a tank top as you tended to your overgrown garden

at first he was watching out of genuine interest of what you were doing, but slowly and surely, it stemmed into something else

watching as you bent over to water the flowers that were still living, your shorts barely able to contain your soft ass

or when you reached over to grab a hanging plant, pushing your chest out as your tits were spilling over your little tank top

ted feels his boxers tightening, a small fuck escaping his lips as he let out a low chuckle to himself

ted's glasses slip down his nose as he leans closer to the window, trying to get a better view and the laughable excuse of clothing that you've currently got on

his free hand wanders lower, disappearing under the waistband of his sweats and moves into his boxers, gripping his throbbing cock as his eyes stay trained on your figure

his coffee is long forgotten, as he lets his fingers stroke slow, teasing movements along himself as he watches you stretch, reacj and bend

"keep doing that, sweetheart. just like that... fuck, you don't even know how hard you make me," he whispers to himself, filth falling from his lips at a rapid pace as he stares

you do a stretch as you stand up, and the view ted has is breathtaking, to the point he knows he won't last if he keeps staring

he rests his head against the window with a thud, letting out a deep groan as he shuts his eyes momentarily

when he's ready, he lifts his head back up and—

oh

oh fuck. you're staring right at him with a confused face

you mouth a "you okay?" to him, tilting your head as you do so

of course you'd hear the fucking thud his head made

ted's eyes widen for a second, as he's almost been caught red-handed. however, his lips curve into a slow, devilish smirk.

he doesn't move, rather, he grabs his coffee cup from the side, and just nods and raises it to you, mouthing a "perfect" to you

as he does this, his hand is still palming and stroking his cock, the fact you're so innocent to his perverted actions turning him on even more

you just smile and nod at him, going back to your gardening and letting ted get a nice view of your ass again in the meantime

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, jerking himself off faster as he can feel himself getting closer to the edge

the images in his head of him bending you over and fucking you, forcing you on your knees to take his cock— everything he imagines just pushes him closer to the edge and relief he's chasing

and it's not long until ted is cumming in his boxers, moaning loudly as he rests his forehead against his arm, biting his lip as he tries to shut himself up

he's bucking into his hand, feeling the hot cum spurt over it while he pants heavily at the orgasm that washes over him

it takes him a while to recover, and he just stands there for a bit, regaining his composure and trying to catch his breath

but one thing is for sure

this is part of his routine now.

[jemgirl86]

I keep seeing people request fics with particular plots, and this is how I know y’all are only searching ao3 by kudos, or you’re just yapping to be yapping and aren’t actually searching ao3 at all, because these fics absolutely already exist, and they’re really really good. I mean, come on now, just look for them! Click on stuff and give it a try, regardless of the amount of kudos.

Look, I’ve said this more than once, but I’ll say it again since apparently a lot of y’all are new here:

I’ve scrolled through the SamBucky tag in its entirety more than once, and my favorite authors, the authors who actually respect Sam and Bucky, sometimes have the lowest kudos count. Kudos, in the grand scheme of things, really has nothing to do with quality, especially in the SamBucky tag. I won’t even go into the reasons why — I’m sure y’all can figure it out if you think about it for five seconds lol. But, look, if there is one ship on ao3 where you are truly going to have to let go of the belief that a high number of kudos automatically equals a great story, it’s this ship, especially if you like Sam.

[leveragehunters]

Coming back to this to add the tools I used! (Note: I'm on Windows)

Two good programs for sorting, naming, and tagging audio files are MediaMonkey and MusicBrainz Picard. I didn't feel like learning two new bits of software, so I didn't use them much, but they are super powerful.

Instead I used MP3 tagger, which despite the name tags all sorts of music files, not just MP3s. Drag and drop your files into it, select all, and pick MusicBrainz from the Tag Source menu. Find the right entry and it'll auto-tag your files. You can also add/edit tags and cover art manually.

(Tags are important; they're how media players know what the song is.)

I did this last, though. First, I dumped all my files onto one hard drive and used the size:empty command in the windows explorer search box to find all the 0kb files and delete them. There were a lot.

Some music was only on my old iPod. To get those, I plugged the iPod into the computer, opened it as a drive, showed hidden files, and then dragged the whole lot into a folder on the hard drive called iPod. They're not usable as is, they're all randomly named and organised, but I used MediaMonkey to name, tag, and sort them.

I'm sure there's specialised software to do this, but it was easier for me to work with what I had.

Then I used:

Remove Empty Directories to get rid of all the empty folders; and

Duplicate File Detective to find and delete duplicates.

This left me with just the files I wanted. First thing I did was organise them all into a sensible file structure - for me this was a few top level folders (artist, soundtracks, scores, compilations, instrumental). For artists, the subfolder structure was >name of artist>album, for the others it was just >name of album.

Once that was done, I attacked them with Bulk Rename Utility, which is an awesome bit of software. I mostly used it strip the names back to just the song titles and numbers, since at some point I thought adding the album and artist name to each track was a brilliant idea (past me was an idiot).

After all of that, I started dragging them album by album into MP3 Tagger. Only about a third of my music was missing its tags, so this wasn't a huge job for me, but if you're missing a lot a lot, it'd be worth figuring out either Media Monkey or MusicBrainz Picard, as it automates this.

I use Plex as my media manager (for music and video files) - it's powerful, pretty simple to use, and the free version will do everything you need it to vis a vis organising and playing music (or video).

[screenshot of my Plex program showing my music library by artist, with a list of libraries on the left]

I bought the lifetime pass ($160 AUD), because it's one of the best pieces of kit I've ever used, and with a paid for version, you get to use the apps. Which includes PlexAmp!

[screenshot of the PlexAmp music player]

It is a seriously brilliant music player, way better than Spotify, Apple music, or iTunes, and its playlist game is on point.

And because you can set your Plex server up to be accessed from outside your home network, you can use PlexAmp to play your music library when you're out and about.

I have ditched Spotify. I know, I know, it's not an airport etc etc. But I had some thoughts.

A big part of making the decision was the 20+ years of MP3 files sitting disorganised and abandoned on various hard drives and old devices. I spent this past week or so organising them all onto one hard drive, updating file names and tags and folder structures so I could load them all into Plex.

I have a lot of music. Most of it ripped from CDs, some bought as MP3s, and some recorded from cassette tapes using an audio jack and a dream. There's bands I haven't thought about in years; ones that, once reminded, I missed terribly.

It made me realise in the 6 or so years I've had Spotify I've listened to less and less music overall and certainly to fewer once-beloved bands/albums. (I didn't even realise Linkin Park had a new album with a new co-lead singer, a woman, who is incredible.)

Now my music is all set up in Plex, I'm listening to it through PlexAmp, a fantastic music app I'm running on an old tablet, bluetoothed to some decent speakers instead of the crappy computer ones.

Result? I've maybe listened to more music this past week than in all of 2024.

Now there's obviously a novelty factor at play, having everything easily available for the first time in so long, but I think there's something else going on.

Algorithmically, Spotify fed me music. I had a few playlists, a few bands saved, but I didn't have a collection of my music. I'll be the first to admit I'm not a huge music buff, so without my music in front of me, without being able to flip through my personal musical history, the music I'd curated, it was just kind of lost. Listening to Spotify was more like walking through a record store or listening to the radio. I forgot about what I enjoyed and just listened to what was convenient.

Having all my music at my fingertips is making me happy. Happy listening and happy looking through my collection and happy remembering that yeah, that is an awesome album! It makes my brain feel good and I remember when I first heard it, who I was with, what was happening in my life!

It's awesome.

[likecr8zy]

COFFEEMAKER | CS ♡︎

synopsis: a dirty coffee maker and a forgetful boyfriend cause for a valentine’s day that you’d surely never forget

tags: absolutely tooth rotting fluff, absolutely fluff. (slight angst tho :/)

5:30am ..

san lazily flicks the expensive coffee maker on, starting it up to make his favorite coffee. he’d truly need it today. it’s valentine’s day.

as san waits for his coffee, his fingers nimbly scroll through the local bouquet shops flower registry. they of course, hardly had anything, they didn’t even have your favorite flowers.

san clicks on a bouquet of roses, instantly buying them.

“pickup time at 12:30, no later!!”

twelve-thirty. that’s all he had to remember.

as san looks over his shoulder at the coffee machine, he see’s his overflowing cup.

fuck.

of course he’d forgotten to turn the machine off, of course he fucking did.

san sighs, grabbing the steaming hot cup with a rag and cleaning up the mess on the counter.

and of course, san wouldn’t waste good coffee.

san takes a tiny sip, sighing. atleast one thing would be right today.

-

1:30pm ..

you touch up your makeup in the mirror, wondering if your outfit looked okay. why hadn’t san texted you yet though? it was valentine’s day.

before you can even think, san clammers in through the door, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“h-happy valentine’s day!” he exclaims breathlessly before collapsing onto your floor.

you give him a soft, pitying smile as you kneel next to him, gently plucking the bouquet from his hands.

you take in his appearance. his hair was disheveled, his glasses sliding down his sweat-ridden face, and his light pink lips slightly parted.

“happy valentine’s day, sannie.” you say, kissing his cheek, causing him to blush. “where’d you come from?” you ask, pinching his flushed cheek.

san immediately sits up, swatting at your hand before fixing the wrinkled, brown cardigan that sat nicely on his torso.

“came from the flower shop,” he grins before continuing, “i was almost late.. i’m sorry. you ready to go?”

“yeah but sannie.. you don’t look too good..” you say, placing a hand on his forehead.

and yeah, he didn’t look too well, he was panting, more sweat dripping down his forehead as his head rolled back into the side of your wooden bedframe.

san sniffles, much to your dismay. “how are you feeling?” you ask, feeling how hot his forehead was.

“i-im fine baby.. we can j-just go..” he says, his tone wavering.

and of course you couldn’t believe him.

“nonono. lie down sannie. we can do valentines another time, okay?”

san shakes his head in frustration. he couldn’t just give up like that. but his heart was on one side, and his body was on the other. he couldn’t fight it anymore.

san flops down onto your queen bed, burying his sweat ridden face into the soft plush of your pillows.

“i’m sorry y/nnie.” he mumbles, although you almost didn’t catch it.

he looks up at you, his cute flushed face makes your heart swell with affection. san lets out a dry cough, causing your smile to slightly fade.

“sannie.. are you alright?” you ask, placing a hand on his forehead again. he was burning up.

san lets out a little groan. deciding to use full honesty. “no.. i’ve been feeling sick since i had coffee this morning” he confesses

“did you clean the coffee machine before you made it?” you ask

san goes quiet.

“choi san”

“‘m sorry. i always forget.”

it was classic san. never remembering simple tasks. but he looked so cute sick, you couldn’t stay mad at him.

“alright how about this? valentine’s day in. i’ll run to the corner store and buy some medicine and foods. let’s watch a movie, okay?”

san nods reluctantly, his body aching so bad it hurt to move.

you give him a sad smile. “stay here, okay sannie?”

san nods, lying back in bed as he watches your figure walk away, vision blurring as he falls into a deep sleep in your bed.

[z0n1x]

OK MEOWRTHER FUCKER WHERE DOING THIS WHERE MAKING THIS HAPPEN

aka my favorite moments and notes on the new hc:bc: “[S] 8r8k.” done right after i watched it because I AM GOING TO IMPOLDE I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!

MEGA FUCKING SPOILER WARNING! OBVIOUSLY!

(ignore how this is in windows media player i needed to slow it down a bit)

ok first frame up we got 3 preexisting scenes to ground us

with the calliroxy + john panel im not exactly sure why that little stain is there but probably just some like texturing idk id be surprised if it was relevent

sollux. soooollllluuuux >:[ this is a pretty funny gag though itll come back later

awwww little fork and knife dude! someonell probably think of a clever punny name for them so im not gonna bother right now

also it could just be the way the lighting affects colors here but that sort of looks like lime more than jade or olive to me. it seems too yellow to be jade but too light to be olive

would be cool if it was but i doubt it

with afformentioned knife and fork dude and swiffer and cliper and now this dude we seem to be getting a lot of greenish blooded background trolls

is that…. THE PINK KILOMETERS !!!! :0 lol

clear parallel to hic here

ok seriously what the hell is that?????? i wouldnt say its thief of life shit cuz then it’d probably be light blue but if were going by colors this would be a fuchsia blood thing?? i need to fucking know pleeeeease <<;;

neeeeever mind seems to be a thief of life thing though i would’ve thought stealing someones life to give to others wouldve been more of a rogue of lifes thing? whatever its still cool

cool ass shot

he still fucking uses those????????

those lil wrist things vaguely remind me of the signless’s handcuff association but these are a different kind i think so eh

ahhhh i get it ;3 its a bloodpusher

SHES GONNA FUCKING GET ME SCRAM!!! 0_0 (lol)

has (vriska) always wore knee high converse? if not thats a funny thing to add

NOOOOO DAVEPETA DONT EXPLODE YOURE TOO AWESOME D:

LMAOOOOO THE TROLLS FACE WHY IS HE SO D:,

ahhh partners in D:,-hood

GET EM GIRL WOOOOO!!!! KILL EM! yiffy 4 the win

indeed tavvy, indeed 0_0

im imagining him saying “GET DOWN TAVVY” in the same cadence one would say get down mr president

can someone with the genesis project put that code in to see what it has (first ones a 4)

(i love this little fourth wall addon with tavvy youth rolling across the scenes)

LMAO THE LITTLE EYE POP OUT also uncle? is this vrissy’s or yiffy’s? considering jade had it im going with yiffy

think about him next time you have boba….. smh

come on tavvy hit a corner cooome on (i like the video shaking here)

OH NY GOD ITS A JOHN METEOR PANEL FUCK DAMMIT

they are drawn so cute here in a panel so hard to pause on with 0.25 speed on T_T yiffy here is pfp gold

holy shit? of course they pull out the fucking painting for something that stupid. it’s beautiful

aw shit hopenado time

:0 godtier revives are always so pretty

IS THAT FUCKING BEC BLANC??????

(yes i think thats a good pun)

some one tag the gun identification guy we need to figure out what gun vriska is using on (vriska)

:o he’s actually controlling the hopey shit!!!!!

part 2 cuz the image limit: