#but the first one had been my dad the morning of that day in the dream

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 12

Y'all are getting two chapters today because a little silly someone, won't @ because they haven't asked to be tagged in the tag list and Idk if they'd like the call out but they know who they are, liked every chapter and I loved your little comments so I finished chapter 13 so I can post this chapter only fueled by your excitement 🥰🥹

CW: people are getting their ass beat, so mention of blood and decapitation.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 12 >>next(TBC)

With Nolan completely refusing to face anyone lately, and the announcement that the guardians are dead, you had to get away. You couldn’t sit and wait for him, couldn’t cry over the guardians, couldn’t sit by and watch how worried Debbie was every morning when he’d left. You just couldn’t.

So, while Mark went to university with Amber and William, you cashed in your vacation days and let the shadows lead you away over the seas to Romania. Softly landing in the Hoia-Baciu Forest felt—surprisingly—like home.

The whispers of the shadows nudged you around the forest, deeper and deeper, past the oddly shaped trees straight to a burnt circle of land where dried trees grew. Walking past the circle changed the scenery, from gloomy grey trunks to moss-covered, flourishing weeping willows circling a little lake.

Walking back to the edge of the circle, you stuck half of your body out and back observing the change happening right before your eyes. It seemed to be a Midnight City magic dome thing. Inside the dome, it was quite beautiful, the astilbes and the Japanese irises giving some color to the landscape. Your hands softly traced the taller flora as you got closer to the lake, lifting off the ground to move towards the center where a small piece of rock was.

This was a great place for an altar and the shadows greatly approved, too. Sitting on your ass, crisscross apple sauce, you placed your hands on the smooth surface, transfiguring it to expand and even out a bit more.

By the time you were done setting wards so no one could find the place and adding the actual altar and the statues for Lady Gotham and Death it was already so late.

With a small sigh, you place yourself in front of the altar once more. You were never religious, your biological mother didn’t care, Bruce didn’t, the Graysons didn’t- it felt awkward to pray to them. Constantine mentioned that praying to them could just be talking to them, they’re not Yahweh, they’re not Allah, they don’t abide by those rules.

So, you didn’t either. You thanked them for the blessings they gave you, hoped they were well, and told them about your day, leaving them with a bowl of sliced apples and some flowers, deciding to visit the rest of the country while you still had a few days of vacation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Went to Mars, almost got killed by Martians, got the shit beaten out of me for trying to help the Titan, got half of Teen Team- er… the new Guardians in hospital. Also, his one guy in the college was kidnapping male students he saw as peak alpha males and modifying them to essentially turn them into robocops wannabes consisting of no free will and mech bodies, including William’s boyfriend, for the betterment of the human race.” Marks sighs tiredly. “Amber and I broke up and made up again. Told her I’m Invincible… she knew.”

Debbie just looked at her son, before turning to look at you. Maybe she should stop asking how everyone’s day was. “Don’t look at me like that, ma. For once I had a normal day. Visited a lot of places in Romania after finding a little nook for my altar and got some presents for you two and our friends.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “How was your day?”

Your mother smiles. Well, maybe she shouldn’t, it was the little normality she had in her life. “Sold a penthouse to a billionaire who had a set of all gold teeth.” You snort at that. “That’s one way to show off.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Since sunrise Mark has been searching for his dad and once he did, he immediately tackled him, rolling through the air for a bit before stopping. “Where have you been?! Why haven’t you said anything?” Nolan didn’t get to respond Mark continued. “Are you cheating on mom? Do you have a second family or something?”

“What?! Of course not! Why would you-“ Nolan stutters at the audacity. “Because one day you just decided to up and disappear! You barely come home anymore- Do you even love us anymore? I need you to think about it before you answer- really consider it, because I want you to mean it truthfully- Do you love us?”

The older Viltrumite couldn’t hide the shock, the anguish as he actually thought about it. Loving them meant going against his mission- to a small degree, sure, he could still finish it- but- “Yes... I-I do. I truly love your mother and you deeply. I love your sister just as much. You three are very important to me.”

“Then stop this- nonsense!” Mark waved his arms around. “You’ve been missing for almost two months, barely come home to sleep- You know how paranoid my sister is, she’s making plans over plans on how to take you down because she thinks you snapped and are trying to conquer the planet.”

“She thinks I plan to conquer Earth?” Nolan asks softly, hands clenching at his side. “Yes! She thinks me and mom don’t know but I found her encrypted files- she thinks now that you know the Viltrumites can create offsprings that have powers with humans, you have started making plans to take over. She thinks you killed the Guardians because they could have slowed you down, maybe even stopped you- she thinks you’ll come to me and ask me to help- that you’ll come clean and confess that the Viltrumites are- are these-“

Mark couldn’t finish… How could he? You didn’t come up with these ideas out of thin air- you had evidence. Circumstantial evidence- but it still was so compelling, too many coincidences to be just nothing. “She made plans that could take me down, too. Just in case I would accept to help you- she’s gone mad, dad. And- and I started to believe it too.”

Mark looks at his father, straight in his eyes. “So I need you to come home, to talk to us- I don’t want to believe it- I don’t want to think that you’d ask me to do such bullshit.” The young man clenched his fist. “Please tell me she’s wrong- because if she isn’t- I won’t help you. I’ll do anything to stop yo-“ Mark didn’t finish as Nolan threw a punch, breaking his mask and making him bite his cheek.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Honestly, Eve, I can’t believe you didn’t dump Rex the first time he cheated.” You sipped on your soft drink as you walked with Eve. “I know- It’s just- we both-“ She tried to come up with a reason, just a tiny one to try and keep her pride. “You both got your powers in a lab- yes. I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the respect of a man. And I can’t believe Kat jumped at the first opportunity- is the ‘not your bestie’s ex’ not in the girl rulebook anymore?”

As Eve opened her mouth to respond to that, what came out was a gasp of shock as her eyes caught the fight happening on the news. “What? Are the news more import-“ As you tuned to look behind you at the TVs in the electronics shop your mouth dropped with the drink you were holding.

The flashing pictures of Mark and the Immortal fighting furiously against Nolan make your blood run cold. The robot cameras that were flying around the men managed to pick up some of the conversation, mostly Immortal furiously yelling but- “This isn’t you! You don’t want to do this! You just feel like you have no choice, but you do!” they caught Mark too.

“Is your dad being mind-controlled?” Eve asks, clearly worried as she looks at you. “No…” Is all you say before you disappear with a breeze of air. It wasn’t a good idea to travel via magic right now. Eve caught a glimpse of Omni-man decapitating The Immortal before she changed into her costume and tried to keep up with you.

Somewhere in space, the League of Justice and Laughing Magician could only watch in terror as the news kept up with the man and his son. “Please don’t… Please don’t try and stop him.” John’s whispered payers were met only with Batman’s suspicious glare. “We should go and help!” Superman’s worried pleas was quickly shut down.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mark couldn’t register everything his father yelled at him as they fought through the air, and he definitely could not after being thrown into the ground and punched twice. But he could answer one question. “You and her… I’d still have you and my sister, dad.” And Nolan hesitated on his third punch. But you didn’t.

Your hit threw Nolan off Mark, making the older man crash into a crater of his own. You didn’t let him get a break. “I trusted you! We all did!” Punch after punch, the ground beneath his head created a bigger and bigger hole. “Mom and Mark love you! I love you! And you go and chose them?!”

You didn’t even notice when John Constantine popped in, almost stumbling through the portal as he ran to your brother, racking his brain for every healing spell he could use. He didn’t care that Bruce would corner him when he went back and interrogate him about this, not when you needed him.

“What is so important about them that we didn’t give you?! You haven’t seen them in years-“ Your yelling cracked as you sobbed, your tears mixing with the blood of the man. Why didn’t he choose you? “Why not us? Why them?! Why are you letting me beat the shit out of you?!” As your hands clenched above your head in a double axe handle motion, ready to turn his face into mush, you’re stopped by your brother’s voice calling your name.

Your fury turns to fear and worry as you look towards him, getting up just to stumble towards him and John. Your tears clouded your vision as you fell to your knees by Mark, gently holding his hand as you inquired about him. “I’m fine- just like, five punches to the head and a throw to the ground.” He croaked out, flinching slightly as his nose set back into place while John continued doing his best to heal the young man.

“In other universes, you either die or get the snot and spline beaten outta ya- this is so much better kid.” Constantine immediately cringes at his words, his eyes meeting yours as he instantly apologizes. “- I should have told you, hen-“

The sound of the sonic boom doesn’t even make you flinch. If Nolan wanted to run away, that was fine by you. “I knew. Nobody is that kind just to help out of the goodness of their hearts.” You said softly, reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. “I should have done more. Should have told the Guardians or someone about my suspicions, my plans on how to deal with him-”

“You made contingency plans?” At your stutter and confused look, Mark could only laugh, immediately getting what the man meant. The rumors of Batman’s paranoia were true after all. “She even made a few for me in case I accepted.” John huffed in amusement at that. “Well- then we better keep you away from the Bat, he may just adopt you.” Some of the League’s members couldn’t hold in their laughs at the utter disgust your face showed. “With my track record of father figures you better keep the furry as far away from me as possible.” Constantine could hear Hal's laughter from where he sat as she finished speaking.

“We should get going before Cecil shows up.” You sigh while helping Mark get up. “We’re moving again? I just got here…” Eve said as she finally landed, getting Mark’s other side. “You both were hard to find, and I missed everything.”

“No need- I can help with that.” John groans as he gets up, brushing his pants off before he opens a portal to Mark’s home. “Alright, let’s get the lad home.” He lets the kids through first, and before he steps in too, he makes sure to flip off the robot cameras, just for Bruce.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | six.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 6.6k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora spends time with her uncle mingi, first date <33, yunho opens up about his parents to oc, holding hands, good conversations & just a bunch of cute simp shit, goodnight kisses 🥰, i swear things will get a lil spicier next chap lmao

yunho: goodmorning. 😊

This morning had been one of those mornings. You had gotten up a little later than usual, feeling tired from the exhausting week. On top of that, you turned down Yunho's offer to bring you to work so that you wouldn't have to take the bus over; afraid you'd be asking for too much since he was gonna be driving around later tonight. Had you known the bus would be running late, you might've taken him up on it. But, with it being Friday, you were just excited to get your day over with so that you could hang out with Yunho one-on-one.

It was a blessing and a curse that it was busy as soon as you walked in this morning. A blessing because the day would breeze on by. A curse because you didn't even get a chance to respond to Yunho's cute lil text before jumping right into your task list. Until, your desktop computer decided to be stubborn and stop working properly— setting you behind even more than you already were due to the commute.

you: hi, goodmorning ☺️

you: i'm sorry for the late response! i'm having quite the morning. i have so much to do, but my desktop isn't working now. i feel so incomplet and useless. 😭

yunho: it's okay! not like i thought you forgot about me or anything .. 🥲

you: lol sorry, never!

yunho: wdym it's not working?

you: it won't stay on. keeps going on power save mode even though my settings are adjusted to never go on power save mode.

yunho: interesting. where do you sit in the peds hospital again?

you: 4th floor, M103.

yunho: i'll be over in a sec.

you: yunho?? you don't even support our unit 😭

yunho: and? lol. i have time. brb!

"What?" You mutter to yourself as you set your phone down, a little worried about Yunho getting in trouble or pushing off his work to help you. You shrug it off, scribbling in your planner and working through emails on your laptop until Yunho swings by.

Which, didn't take him long post-reply. He was at your cubicle about 15 minutes later.

"Hey." Yunho says softly.

"Hi." You shyly laugh. "How did you even get in here?"

"IT has access everywhere, believe it or not." He smiles before pointing at your desktop. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Go for it." He pulls up an empty office chair nearby and drags it over to your desk, sitting comfortably as he presses the power button. He presses it a few times and clicks away at your mouse until the screen pops up. 

"Hm." He hums. "Took awhile."

"It's gonna shut down on you."

"Is that what's been happening?"

"Mhm. Just now actually. When I get it back up and running, it'll let me work for a few minutes before it shuts off and goes into power mode randomly." He's click-clacking away on the keyboard, forehead tightly knit as he eventually rests his elbow on the desk— hand hovering over his mouth, with the other on the mouse.

"How old is your computer?"

"I don't know, maybe 8-10 years old? It was passed down from the previous project manager when I stepped into her role."

"Yikes." He laughs. "I'll try a few things, but might also be a good time to consider getting a new one." He starts pulling up the terminal and plugging in some code— language you definitely don't understand.

"Yeah, I know."

"You actively push data or other work to the cloud, right? So you have a backup and can pull it up anywhere?"

"Mhm."

"Good." He gives you a small smirk. "Then, getting a replacement wouldn't be so bad. You deserve it." You laugh.

"Hope the department thinks so."

"I mean, you do need a working computer to get your things done." He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, slightly slumped in his position. "I just plugged in a code to mimic the movement of your mouse so the computer thinks something is always happening. If you look closely at the pointer, you can see it twitching a bit." You look up close on the screen and manage to see what he's talking about.

"Woah. Okay, genius."

"Not even." He laughs. "If you don't mind me being in your space for a little longer, I wanna see if this keeps your computer awake."

"As long as it isn't taking up unnecessary time and making you behind."

"Never." He smiles at you. "So."

"So." You mimic him. "Where are you taking me later?"

"For me to know and you to find out." You snort.

"Clever. Am I dressed enough for the occasion?" Yunho eyes your outfit, running a finger across his bottom lip while he smirks at you. 

"Yeah, you look good. You always do." You playfully push him on the bicep, making him laugh. "What? I can't be honest?"

"Hey— oh? Oops. Hi Yunho." Noeul gives you a look before slowly walking away. 

"Hey Noeul." 

"I'll come back later." She mouths out as Yunho gives off a small chuckle. Suddenly, he shifts his attention back to your computer when he notices the screen go black, and he's back to sitting up again. 

"Damn." He tries fiddling with the mouse and keyboard again. "Guess that didn't work. I think this is a hardware issue now, but .." He turns to you with the same smirk he was sporting earlier when he was spitting out those compliments. "Since your computer is pretty old, I can't say it won't act up again if you get this serviced."

"So, you're saying a new computer is definitely the way to go." He nods.

"You deserve it." He stands as he reminds you. "You should think about getting a 38" monitor instead of having two. It's basically the equivalent and helps with productivity."

"What are some good ones?"

"I can send you some recs in a bit. I'm sorry you'll have to work from your laptop for now. But, whatever you order, I can help make sure it gets to you ASAP and I'll help set it up."

"Yunho." You slightly pout as he's slowly walking out of your cubicle.

"No but's. I got you." He looks down at his watch. "Anyway, gotta head back."

"See, don't tell me you have tons of stuff to catch up on now because of me?"

"I doooon't." He almost whines with a small laugh. He totally does. He's actually kinda swamped, but he made it over anyway because seeing you is nice. "See you later?" You nod and giggle. "I'll text you when I'm all wrapped up on my end."

"Okay. Thank you again."

"No worries." He playfully sends you a wink before walking off and out of the office area. Noeul finally comes creeping up to your cubicle, squealing at a low tone.

"Stop, he's so into you."

"Don't start." You bite onto your bottom lip as you continue to keep your eyes glued onto the tiny laptop screen.

"Where is he taking you? Did he say anything?"

"Nope. I am completely in the dark."

"Those are the best kinda dates. He's gonna take good care of you."

"I just wanna get out of here." You whine as your place your head down on your desk for a few minutes.

"You will! And the wait will be worth it!" You look up at her and let out a small sigh, nodding your head.

"You're right. Let me tackle all of this so I can get outta here sooner than later."

"And hang out with your man, yes!" She leans against your desk. "By the way, what'd he say about your computer?"

"Oh, this thing is done with. I need a new one. I'm just waiting for Yunho to send me some recs."

"Been telling you that."

"Well, it kept me going for some time." You pat the top of the monitor screen. "It was nice while it lasted."

"I love this for you, you know that? Upgrading your computer, your love life. This era is cute." You chuckle and shake your head.

"Go. I gotta get back to work." You push her along, making her giggle at how obviously flustered you are over the topic.

yunho: some recs for the boss lady!

You see Yunho's Slack message come in, along with links from the IT catalog. 

yunho: this CPU should do you good, along with the 38". 😮‍💨

you: haha, thank you. 😊 i'll place my order right now!

yunho: can you send me your ticket number so i can keep an eye on it?

you: maybe....

yunho: ☹️☹️☹️☹️

you: you have too much other work to worry about!

yunho: including your ticket, yes!

you: you're unbelievable. 😂

yunho: you can always opt out for tonight (ouch) ..... 😖

you: never! lol. i'm excited actually. ☺️

yunho: i am, too. 

You smile to yourself during the brief pause in between messages, unsure how to respond to Yunho without sounding like you're doing too much or saying something crazy. But, the Slack notification goes off again—

yunho: okay, i actually gtg and help jihoon with something.

yunho: seriously send me your ticket number after you're done, pls!

Pause.

yunho: can't wait to spend time with you, y/n.

And all that overthinking goes straight out the window.

you: same. 😌

Seora had a long day at school— her day filled with a bunch of tests and pop quizzes, damn near dragging herself out of the classroom and into the gym afterward. She happily talks with her friends as they change into their practice gear, joking around and being the typical girls they are as they get out onto the floor with their water bottles. After equal wins and losses, the coach decides to continue running and improving plays to push the team forward to the playoffs and hopefully, a championship win. 

When practice wraps up, Seora grabs her things and finds her other favorite uncle talking to some of the parents outside of the gym; sweat still on her face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. When his eyes finally land on hers, he gives Seora's hair a good ruffle before taking her bags from her.

"Ace!"

"Uncle Mangi!" She copies his tone and laughs.

"How was practice?"

"Tiring. I'm pooped. I can barely feel my legs today."

"Working hard, atta girl. On our way to the WNBA." He tosses her bags in the backseat before hopping in. "Hope you don't mind, I gotta stop at the grocery store really quickly for our dinner."

"Only if I can grab some snacks."

"Course you can. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner, though. I'm gonna make some galbijjim."

"Yum! One of my faves."

"Exactly." He laughs. "How was school today?"

"The usual. Nothing too special."

"Nothing too special? Nothing happened at all?"

"Nope. Too many tests and pop-quizzes. I did get an A on my math test, though."

"That's something." She nods as she looks out the window.

"So, my dad's got another team dinner?"

"Mhm." He hums.

"Impossible." 

"They've been working really hard on a lot of different things across the hospital lately. Helps relieve stress, I guess." One thing about Mingi is that he will never out Yunho the way Seonghwa unintentionally does. If Yunho's got a team dinner, Mingi will stick to the story down to the T. Maybe even throw in his own details and dramatics to make it more believable.

"He barely used to have team dinners."

"Well, maybe their goal was to have more!"

"Are you hiding something, Uncle Mangi? Cause Uncle Hwa accidentally spilled the beans last time and said dad was on a date."

"Why would your Uncle Hwa do that? Should I fight him?" Seora laughs and shakes her head. "He wasn't on a date."

"Uncle Mangi." He looks at her.

"Mhm?"

"Lying is bad."

"I'm not lying!" She continues to squint her eyes at him before finally giving up her case and settling back into the seat. 

"Fine. What about you then, Uncle Mangi? What's new? How was your trip to Japan?"

"Nothing much. But, it was good. Nice to be in different sceneries from time to time."

"Dad keeps saying we'll tag along one day, but we haven't yet. I wanna go soon."

"I'll let him know, don't worry."

"They must have soooo much cute stuff. Don't they?"

"Lots." Mingi pulls up to the grocery store, driving into a spot near the entrance. "You'd definitely love it there."

"Where else have you been, Uncle Mangi?" She follows alongside of her towering uncle while he grabs a cart and heads into the store.

"Everywhere and nowhere all at the same time." She laughs.

"Seriously."

"One place I'll always remember is Switzerland. It's beautiful there. Probably one of my top places I've been to."

"I'm sure. I've only seen it in books, but it looks really pretty."

"It is. Those textbook pics definitely don't do it enough justice." Mingi sorts through the meat packages while Seora quickly wanders off into an aisle to grab her favorite chips and cookies. She drops it into the cart, with Mingi barely noticing.

"I have a random question for you."

"Try me."

"Do you think it's better to lock yourself up in a grocery store like this during a zombie apocalypse or keep it moving?"

"Well." Mingi continues to slowly walk down the aisles, making sure he doesn't miss any ingredients on his mental grocery list needed for tonight's dinner. "I'd say keep it moving."

"Why? You'd have everything in here."

"That's if no one raids the store, which would be impossible at that time. Plus, it can only keep you safe for so long before zombies find their way in or another group comes around. You could quite literally die before you even have a chance to try and survive."

"You'd have to take a break at some point though, right?"

"You could, but always best to keep it moving, ace. Never leave a trail for people."

"Okay, touché."

"Cereal first or milk first?" Mingi suddenly asks as they go through the cereal section.

"Cereal."

"What? No. Did your dad teach you that?"

"What kind of planet are you living on? Isn't that how it normally is?" Mingi stops the cart and looks at her. 

"Warm or cold milk then?"

"For cereal?" Mingi nods. "Cold?!"

"You and your weird ass dad." Seora laughs loudly. "Did anybody want a child? Cause this one is not mine—" Seora pinches her uncle's bicep, causing him to yelp as they push through the remaining aisles.

"You soggy cereal lover." Seora points out.

"That's literally the best way to have it."

"Ew, you're like eating mushed up cardboard." Mingi sighs.

"You're very lucky I love you and that your dad is my bestfriend or else I would've blocked him."

"You're so dramatic." She throws more snacks into the cart just as they're about to head to the registers.

"Any more snacks or you're good?"

"I'm good! I'm excited for dinner." Mingi laughs.

"I am, too. Too bad I gotta cook it first."

"You're a great cook, Uncle Mangi. I always enjoy the food you make." She tugs on his sleeve.

"I do try my best." She helps her uncle load the groceries onto the belt, pulling the cart towards the end to help bag up their things and throw it back in. Mingi taps his card to the reader before helping Seora with the heavier bags. Once they've gathered all their things, Mingi pushes the cart over to the car, loading it up in his trunk while Seora plops into the front seat. "Ready to head home?"

"Yeah, dying to shake a shower." Mingi starts up the car and begins the journey home.

"Yeah, you need it." He teases, causing Seora to lightly punch him on the arm.

"You're mean!"

"Kidding!" He laughs. "So, what's on the agenda tonight? We eat, you do homework. Watch some shows? Talk a walk around the neighborhood?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat. I kinda have a bit of homework so I dunno about that walk. Plus, I'm pretty sore already."

"Okay, we'll play it by ear then." On the way home, Seora continues to tell Mingi about the staycation her father took her on and the new dog café they visited. She talks to him about her friends and how one of her friends started having a crush on one of the boys in their class. Mingi playfully gasps before lecturing her about boys and how icky they can be [coming from an honest heart]. But Seora laughs it off and tells her uncle that she's not really worried about that stuff.

All Mingi can say in response is 'you better not be.'

When the two finally get home, Mingi immediately sets himself up in the kitchen to get dinner going, while Seora throws her backpack down in the living room and heads straight to the shower. She takes a good, long shower before throwing on her pajamas and brushing through her wet hair. She sits on the living room floor and gets going with her homework while waiting for her uncle to finish cooking dinner.

Meanwhile, Yunho makes his way over to the peds hospital— happily stepping into the elevator to make his way back up to your office. When he gets there, he realizes most people have already clocked out and left for the day, only leaving you and a select few heads working away in the cubicles.

"Hey. Ready?" You smile as you look up at Yunho, sending one last meeting invite for next week before closing down your apps and shutting off your laptop.

"Yeah! I thought you were gonna text me so I could meet you halfway."

"Um, no." Yunho laughs. "I would much rather come get you so we can walk to the car together." 

"That's sweet." You throw on your coat and slide the bag strap over your shoulder. "So, how was the rest of your day?"

"Good. Not too crazy, at least."

"Did the offers go out to the candidates you were planning on hiring?"

"Oh, yeah! They actually signed earlier this week and they'll be starting next week. They were able to get the background checks cleared out in time."

"Aw, that's awesome! You guys will finally get help." 

"Yeah. It'll be busy for awhile getting them onboarded and trained."

"Yunho's gonna go MIA."

"Yunho is not gonna go MIA." He laughs. 

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, of course." He chuckles. "I'll always make time."

"You say that now."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on." He pinches your cheeks. "Don't trip." You smile feeling his warm touch against your skin. "Well, I didn't think it'd be so cold this evening. Are you okay with your coat and all? Is it enough?"

"It is."

"Okay, well just let me know. We'll be inside for the most part, but I want you to be comfortable."

"Thank you." You continue to walk alongside of Yunho until you get to his car. You give him the ins and outs of your day besides the whole computer issue that he tried to rescue you from while he grabs your bags and gently sets it in the trunk of his BMW and pops the door open for you. When you slide in and get comfortable, you notice how spotless his car is and how it smells like a hint of his cologne, along with laundry detergent and the fresh car smell. There are a few colorful hair ties lining the bottom of one of the cupholders, along with a hoodie in the backseat and a basketball. Yunho laughs and apologizes for Seora's mess— he also hasn't gotten a chance to bring in her things simply because he doesn't think much of it.

It almost feels like Seora is with him one way or another and he finds comfort in that.

On the drive over to dinner, he asks a bit about what other days look like for you and if you anticipate other big projects to come your way. You talk about a new project that was already mentioned to you by your manager, which involves remodeling one of the levels to a study/meeting area. You also tell Yunho it isn't a high priority, but you've already started the conversation with some of the facilities coordinators that can help rope in the appropriate vendors for certain tasks.

He transitions by telling you a few of the little projects he's been working on with his team, along with figuring out how to upgrade systems and all that jazz. You find that Yunho and his team are constantly working to support so many different departments, and it amazes you how well Yunho is able to delegate and keep himself afloat. You ask if he's ever had to work late because of really urgent issues and he says he's only had to do it once or twice— most can typically wait until the morning.

"Okay." He says, pulling into a tight, narrow street to start looking for parking. "We're here."

"I have no idea where we're at."

"Oh." Yunho laughs. "That's good then. More of a surprise for you. But, please keep your expectations down cause I didn't do much."

"Stop. Don't say things like that. I'll love it either way." Yunho smiles as he turns another corner and finds a spot right away. He parks flawlessly next to the curb, shutting off his car before turning back to you. 

"Ready?" You nod quietly, watching as Yunho hops out and does a light jog over to open the door for you. You give him a smile and tug on your coat while Yunho locks his door and leads the way next to you, hand on the small of your back. The walk isn't too far, the restaurant being down on the opposite end of the street, across the block. To your surprise, Yunho brings you to one of the new conveyor belt sushi restaurants. He greets the host and he immediately takes you back to a little booth near the belt. It's snug enough to fit two people. 

"I'm excited." You look at Yunho and he laughs.

"Same, I could eat. You like sushi, right? Please tell me I didn't fuck up." He looks concerned for a moment.

"No, no. I love sushi. I actually haven't had it in so long." You rearrange your set up so you can eat comfortably, the waiter taking your order for drinks. You both ask for water, but before the waiter can walk off, Yunho suddenly asks for two glasses of hot sake. 

"Thank you." He says, giving the waiter a curt nod.

"Sake?"

"Our little celebration for getting through the week."

"Wow, okay. Touché. I can get behind that." You look at him. "My birthday's coming up. You should come out with Mingi and Seonghwa. We're heading out to the club." You pause before shaking your head. "Or, actually, I'm being forced to go to the club to celebrate."

"Forced, hm?" He laughs. "That sounds fun, though. Send me the details. We'll definitely try to celebrate with you."

"Might be fun. We can be a fun group of people."

"Yeah?" Yunho likes that, you're down for things and he can tell you go with the flow. He likes someone who can just have fun with him. Someone who can just be with him; it wouldn't matter where they go or where their relationship takes them.

"Mhm. And I can tell you guys are fun." You laugh. "Seora must love having you as her dad."

"I hope so." Yunho laughs along. "By the way, feel free to start digging in." He gestures towards the moving conveyor belt and you happily start exploring your options as they come— taking a fresh plate of salmon nigiri to start off. The waiter quickly comes back with two glasses of hot sake, making Yunho smirk at you. He sets his chopsticks down and slides your glass over, raising his while you take yours. "Cheers? For getting through the week."

"Cheers!" You say cheerfully, tapping your glass against his before taking some of the hot sake down your throat. It burns, but the heat brings more warmth to your body on this cold evening. "Speaking of Seora, where is she right now now?" You drink a bit more before taking another plate off the belt.

"Spending time with her Uncle Mingi."

"That's cute." Yunho grabs a few plates and sets them aside while he decides which one he'll tackle first.

"She had practice and I had him go pick her up. I think they were heading to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner before heading home last time he texted me."

"What did you tell her?"

"Mm." He hums. "I hope you don't take it personally or anything, but I told her it was a team dinner."

"No, of course not."

"I just, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "It's just easier to go with that."

"I believe it." The both of you continue to eat away at the sushi, small, empty plates piling up on the side of the table. Small conversations continue about day-to-day life; you and your friends, what you've been doing for yourself lately. Suddenly, you dwell on the fact that you don't know much about Yunho besides his day-to-day life with Seora and work. You know about his friends, his coworkers. But, you don't know anything deeper about his personal life.

His parents.

You didn't wanna be nosy and pry, but you wondered why his parents weren't the ones watching Seora. 

Was it too much of you to ask?

Was this considered a real date if you two weren't trying to get to know each other? What were the boundaries?

"Yunho?"

"What's up?"

"Can I ask you something more personal?"

"Anything."

"I hope I'm not crossing boundaries here, but what about your parents? How come they don't watch Seora?"

"You're not crossing any boundaries." Yunho reassures you, but shakes his head before dipping into his next plate of sushi. "Uh, it's complicated. Things kinda just fell apart when Eunha passed." You slowly nod. "When my parents found out Eunha was pregnant, they didn't want us to continue with the pregnancy cause we were, what? 20 years old when we found out? Still in the midst of college. But, that's not what we wanted. They almost got to Eunha but we pushed through in the end and we had Seora. It was really hard for a long, long time, but Seora was worth every bit of it. My parents obviously didn't like the fact that we went against their wishes, so they kept their distance. It's been that way ever since, even when Eunha passed. I think it got worst, actually. Plus, I never had the best relationship with them from the get-go. They only see Seora once in a blue moon. They're the grandparents that just send the occasional bouts of money, birthday and holidays cards. Seora always wonders about them, but I can never give her an answer as to why her grandparents aren't around." 

"I'm sorry, Yunho."

"Don't be sorry." Yunho smiles a bit.

"W-what about Eunha's parents?" You wanna ask about Eunha too, but you know this isn't the time.

"Uh, they're the same. They—" He pauses. "They cut off ties when she passed because it was too hard for them."

"Oh. Yunho." You say sympathetically, feeling incredibly bad for having brought it up in the first place. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a debbie downer during dinner."

"No, it's okay. I promise. I've.. gotten used to it at this point. It used to be hard for me, but I've accepted everything."

"Still doesn't mean it doesn't get hard for you."

"I've learned to manage." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"I hope you know you're doing an amazing job balancing everything and for being a great father to Seora."

"Thanks." 

"I'm also glad you have Seonghwa and Mingi."

"Me too." He laughs. "They're a pain in my ass, but they're my bestfriends. I don't think I would have been able to get through a lot without them. And they're good to Seora."

"That's good, I'm glad." You eat a bit more before you feel yourself getting content and full.

"Full?"

"Damn near. I think I ate too fast." You chuckle. "I'm almost done with my sake."

"Bottoms up?" You nod, tapping your glass against his before the both of you take it to the neck. Yunho finishes up a few more plates before he sits back and gulps his water down, causing you to giggle to yourself. "Fuck, I'm full. Overdid it, for sure."

"Was worth every bit of it, though. Maybe we should walk it off?"

"Yeah. Let's head to the next stop. I think you'll like it. And we'll get our steps in." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, calling the waiter over.

"Can I split with you?"

"Absolutely not." Yunho says, handing over his card directly to him.

"You're already driving me everywhere and taking me to another location after this. The least I can do is chip in."

"Nope. The least you can do is just enjoy yourself with me tonight." He smiles sweetly just as he grabs the receipt handed to him by the waiter, signing off and tucking his own copy swiftly into his pocket before looking at you. 

"Couldn't even let me see the receipt."

"Nope." He repeats and stands. "Ready to go, pretty girl?" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stand and nod, leading the way out of the restaurant with Yunho in tow. He answers your questions on the way to the car, giving you hints about the next location. It still leaves you stumped in the end, deciding to let Yunho continue taking matters into his own hands with you. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, slipping into the driver's seat as he rubs his hands together and immediately turns the heat on when he starts the car. "All good? Too hot?"

"Just perfect."

"Good." You sit back comfortably as Yunho sets off for the next destination for tonight. "So, how was the sushi? Be honest."

"It was so good!" He looks at you when he comes to a red light, almost as if he's trying to read you, really read you, and you giggle. "What?"

"Just making sure."

"That I'm not lying?"

"Maybe." You laugh even more.

"I would never. If I didn't enjoy it, I would've given an honest review."

"Mmkay, I believe you." He laughs. "I want you to have a good night with me."

"I am already." You look at him with a soft expression. "And I'm sure the next part to this will be just as fun. If not, more. I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I do." Yunho smiles, wanting to hold your hand so badly while he drives. But, he doesn't. He holds back. He feels like there could be a better opportunity.

One that'll feel right and set the mood for the remainder of the night.

For this entirely.

After a good 20 minutes of driving down south, Yunho exits off the freeway and takes an immediate right down towards a large-sized building with all modern exterior designs. He parks in the lot next to it, doing his gentleman deed of helping you out of the car and leading you towards the beautiful building.

It's one of the city's biggest museums, and the event they're hosting for a couple of weeks is called Spirit House. It focuses on Asian American and Asian diasporic artists that are showcasing art pertaining to horror, spirits, haunted houses, reincarnation, different dimensions and other themes along those lines. You continue to read the pamphlet before Yunho looks at you with a small smile on his face.

"Wanna walk around?" You nod.

"How'd you know I'd be into this stuff?"

"It sounded cool, so why not?"

"You're good, Jeong Yunho." You giggle and continue into the first part of the exhibit. The atmosphere is dark and dim, the artwork on the walls screaming afterlife. Death. Souls. Horror, fear. You're so intrigued that you find yourself slowly moving from work to work; trying to take in all the details of the images in front of you. You didn't even realize Yunho had been watching you from behind, snapping photos every chance he could before moving onto the next room to get a preview of what's to come.

"Hey." Yunho says from behind you. "Wanna show you something in the next room." 

"Okay." You look down at the hand he puts out, waiting for you to take it. You gently slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining before he guides you to the next exhibit and it feels incredibly natural. It's a room full of mini fixtures— almost like miniature set-ups of old fashioned homes and other buildings. He shows you one that has the artist's own adaptation of Junji Ito characters spread across levels of an old, haunted house.

"Oh my god, I love it." You peek down to get a closer look, hand still laced with Yunho's. "I love Junji Ito. And the work in the other room reminded me of Takato Yamamoto. It's amazing."

"Made for you." You chuckle, tugging him along as you both look at the next miniature setups alongside of it. Yunho doesn't even mind one bit. He's enjoying the exhibit, but he's enjoying it even more with you here— holding his hand every step of the way. You snap a few photos of the art before Yunho directs you to stand near one of the exhibits where the lighting falls on you perfectly. He takes a few more photos— more candid ones from behind you especially— just so you have photos to look back at when you wanna reminisce on your first date with him.

The next room of the exhibit is an interactive light show; the  room is completely dark, with different lights projecting things around the room. The background music is mysterious, creepy; fitting the vibe all together. You continue to walk with Yunho while snapping photos of your silhouettes in the mirrors. Yunho gets silly and makes a bunch of poses, making you laugh loudly in the process. At one point, you've found yourself standing near the corner of the room, watching all the lights come together to project a beautiful show onto the walls. Yunho comes next to you, admiring the same view— but you, mainly. You look up at him to tell him how amazing the event is, but he's already looking down at you with fondness and endearment sprinkled in his big brown orbs.

You almost.. wanna kiss him.

But, you shake off the thought quickly by dragging him to the next exhibits— loosely holding his hand throughout the rest of the event.

Too bad he would've kissed you back, had you known.

No, he needs to be a gentleman and he needs to do right by you, Yunho thinks. He can't just kiss you on the first date or else he runs the risk of you thinking he only wants you for one thing.

Like Ara; but, that situation is a little different.

"Yunho! That was so fun." You smile at him the way you do, and it melts his heart. "Thank you for taking me to this."

"Of course. I think it ends after the weekend, so perfect timing." You quickly scroll through some of the pictures you took. "I'll send you the pictures I have later."

"Okay." You look at the buskers on the opposite end of the street, along with a food cart nearby. "Yunho, let's go check it out really quickly!"

"I'm down." He nods, noticing it's only about to hit 10pm. Seora must be waiting for him, but he knows she'll sleep until he gets there and Mingi hasn't made a peep. He feels like he's in the clear.

He holds your hand tightly as you both cross the street safely, stopping near the food cart first while lightly bouncing to the live music nearby.

"Want a snack?" You nod and cling onto his arm.

"I could use one. Museum took up my energy." He laughs. Yunho buys some custard-filled bungeoppang for you two to snack on while observing the buskers. You bounce along next to him and he starts to dance in his own way, making you laugh at how cute he's being with you. You snap a few photos of him that you'll share later, not knowing Yunho had a bunch of your photos to share as well.

You and Yunho sing along to some familiar songs before the buskers end the first half of their performance for a tiny break.

"That was cool. They did really well!"

"They were so good!" You toss in some cash into the guitar case. "And I didn't know you could sing!"

"I— no." Yunho laughs.

"I wanna hear more of your singing." You pout as you tug on his arm on the way back to the car.

"Maybe."

"Yunho." You whine and he laughs.

"I promise you it's nothing that great."

"Very much the opposite of what I think, just so you know." He stands by the passenger door, allowing you to hop in but he doesn't close the door right away. He stands and looks at you and there's something in his eyes that you can't really read.

"I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did. A lot." He licks his lips, and you can tell he's having the same internal battle you had not too long ago in the light exhibit. But, he brushes it off by tapping the door frame before shutting your door gently and hopping into his seat. 

The drive home is as expected; with you and Yunho talking about your similar music tastes this time and Yunho being a bit more open about his vocals. You look at him as he sings a tune or two, explaining that his dad is the one with the vocals in the family. You tease that next time, you two should go to a karaoke bar to end the night and he smirks.

At least you're thinking about next time's just like he is, too.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you find yourself not wanting to part from him. You know he has to go home to Seora though, and it breaks your heart knowing she's been waiting for her dad to come home. You step out of the car and tug on your coat, the night colder than it was a few hours ago.

"Welp, this is me." You both look at the apartment building, with Yunho tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Let me walk you up."

"No, it's okay. I promise it's right there." You point at your apartment before chuckling and turning to him completely. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome, Y/N." He watches as you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes, and he loves the initiation, but he freezes. Completely. 

"I'll see you next week, hm? Get home safely." You smile toothlessly at him before turning on your heel to walk up to your unit. Just as you're about to make it up the steps, Yunho is chasing after you with long strides, causing you to turn and raise a brow. "Did I leave something?"

"Mm, maybe." He says with a tiny smirk on his face. Suddenly, his large, warm hands come up to cup your cheeks— lips capturing yours in a sweet goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." You smile up at him as his thumb caresses the surface of your right cheek.

"Night." He steps back, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big. He lingers around until he sees you successfully slip into your unit and hears the door shut close.

What he doesn't see is the way you squeal and dig your face into your hands, incredibly giddy and happy from the turn of events.

You really liked Yunho.

And he does, too.

So much that the smile doesn't even fade when he pulls up to the house, Mingi's car leaving enough room for him to park in his usual spot. Yunho can see the faint flickering of the TV lights through the kitchen window, and he knows Seora is probably on the couch waiting for his arrival.

When he steps through the door, Mingi is placing some food into the fridge before returning his attention to the remaining dishes in the sink. He quietly greets his bestfriend before nodding towards the couch— signaling that Seora had fallen asleep while waiting.

"Has it been long?" Yunho asks lowly.

"A bit, yeah. She said practice was exhausting today." Yunho chuckles before crouching down in front of the couch and brushing her hair back.

"Ace." Her eyes slowly flicker open.

"Oh, finally. You're back." He laughs.

"Let's get to bed, hm?" She sleepily nods, sitting up before walking to her bedroom. "Say bye to uncle Mingi."

"Love you, ace!" Mingi calls out as he watches her sleepily walk across the living room.

"Love you too. Goodnight." She mutters and lazily waves before dragging herself into her room and shutting the door. It isn't long before Yunho sees her shut off the lights, causing him to turn the volume down on the TV before helping Mingi clean up.

"So, how was it?" Yunho smiles.

"Good." He avoids eye contact as he blushes, setting the dry dishes into the cabinet.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

"Meaning?" Mingi rests against the corner before smirking at him. " I have time."

"I really, really like her."

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71 @sanniesaurus @angel-hyuckie @wolviejex @purpleyou7x

[iamquiantrelle]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"With what? Call Cama."

"I'm not calling Eduardo."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like she could ever forget him.

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

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

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

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

Which was why this silence felt so wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Girl-"

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

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

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

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

Naz froze. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She tried again. And again. And again.

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

He'd blocked her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But abortion...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actions meet consequences indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I-"

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

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

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

"Hello?"

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

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

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

"Hi," she croaked, sniffling.

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

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

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

"Is Aurélien there?" Naz asked quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah... she's something."

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

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

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

"Uncle-"

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

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

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

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

"We can talk when she gets here."

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

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

"Aurélien, we need to talk."

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

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

"Naz, what's going on?"

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

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

"Aurélien?"

The line went dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number:

Don't leave the clinic. Please. - A

Two seconds later:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Almost eight weeks."

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

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

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

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

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

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"What?"

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

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

"I don't know what I want, Aurél."

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want me to abort the baby?"

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

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

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

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

"It's cells right now!"

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

"And your parents?"

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

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

"You didn't throw your life away-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"While keeping me your little secret-"

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

"Now what?"

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

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

"I'm scared," she whispered.

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

"The press would have a field day."

"Fuck the press."

"Your career-"

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

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

His head snapped up. "What girlfriend?"

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

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

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

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

"Even Destiny?"

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

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

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

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

"Together," she agreed softly.

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

"You're always hungry."

"Growing boy."

"You're literally a professional athlete."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's so small," he whispered.

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

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

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

"You still scared?"

"Terrified."

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe because it was.

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

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

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

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

And now she was carrying his child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that followed was deafening. Then:

"Fuck," from Jude.

"Putain," from Cama.

Aurélien let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even if her choice kills me?"

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

"Send her the crib," Cama said suddenly.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not hungry-"

"Sit."

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

"Have you spoken to Nazanin today?"

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

"You should call her."

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

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

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

"This is true."

"I'd have to support her decision."

"Also true."

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

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

"Even from me?"

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

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

"Send it," Bertrand said softly.

His thumb hovered over the link. Then:

Saw this last night. Made me think about possibilities.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

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

It's beautiful.

Then: But expensive.

Money's not an issue, he typed back.

Aurel…

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

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

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

She helped me see some things clearly.

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

I'm scared of doing this alone.

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

Promise?

On everything. On football. On my life.

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

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

"She's still scared."

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

"I'm twenty-four-"

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

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

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

Something warm bloomed in his chest. "Uncle?"

"Mm?"

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

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

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

And right now, possibility felt a lot like hope.

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

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

"Language."

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

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

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

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

"And now?"

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

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

"Not helping, uncle."

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

"All true things."

"Uncle."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're enjoying this way too much."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[toto-the-cactus]

A fun question for the girl dad Primarchs. How do they feel about finding out that their daughter has a space marine lover from another Chapter. (Like mother, like daughter. They saw a big man in armor and decided they wanted to climb that like a tree.)

Guess what anon? You got me writing shit.

Hope you like this family drama and especial mention to @jaghatai-khock who let me use his sweet blorbo Callahan to be inserted in this shit show.

-°-

It was no secret that Lion El’jonson held a certain amount of irritation about anything that had to do with the Space Wolves Legion. Whether it was their own behavior or their beliefs that clashed with those of the Dark Angels Legion, it was a matter thrown out in the air for anyone to guess.

That’s why Eireen simply knew that the instant her father got wind of her meeting secretly with one the astartes that belonged to her uncle’s legion, hell will be brought upon her and, in consequence, making her already ermetic and busy schedule become even more unbearable.

Besides… it wasn’t like she was doing anything wrong!

It was a nice and friendly… meet up with someone that she had become quite close after a few conjoined campaigns that her father had with uncle Russ.

Cadoc had been a bit abrasive and loud the first time she met him, staying just respectful enough to not be considered rude or out of line. Her entourage of serfs had been scandalized when he had simply come up to her and asked for a sparring match to test her fighting skills out of genuine curiosity.

“This is probably one of the few chances I’ll get to spar with the trueborn of a Primarch. I’m really excited about it!” he had told her that day and, for a reason that still escapes her understanding, Eireen had felt her face burn at his words.

The redhead astartes had flashed a sharp smile back then, a challenge in that expression to try and get a reaction out of her and for the first time in her life… she felt like someone actually treated her as the warrior that she had been raised to be and not just some maiden to be protected.

Now? It became almost a ritual for them both to try some nice training session before deciding to take a nice break hidden behind the lush bushes of her mother’s garden. After some Dark Angels had ruined the flowers of the Lady of Caliban by walking alongside Eireen one morning, it had been nailed over everyone’s head that anyone wearing ceramite armor was forbidden to get close to the garden.

It was quite the convenience that the garden wasn’t so terribly far from the sparring arena.

Eireen had even memorized the schedule of it to make sure that no astartes of her father would see them both training.

For as much as the young lady felt like she wasn’t doing something criminal of any kind, even her mother had suggested to keep her little friendship hidden from her father until she knew how to tell him that her first ever friend (and crush) was a Space Wolf astartes.

“He can be a bit… overbearing sometimes, my dear. Especially if he thinks that this will be the perfect excuse for Leman to rush in and take you away from him” the look on her mother’s face said enough that even she found that logic a bit extreme and farfetched, but her next words almost made her scoff in disbelief. “He cares for you dearly and the idea of you going away scares him”

Eireen honestly felt like she was in her right to be skeptical about her father’s priorities when regarding her future.

All her life she had been reminded of the responsibilities she’ll have to carry on in the Imperium as the child of a Primarch. A weight that had been sitting over her neck ever since she could understand words.

But Cadoc was the one fresh gush of wind that she didn’t know she needed.

She could complain about her father and his astartes without looking like some traitor in the making. Instead of judgmental stares, the redhead marine would point out her mistakes in posture and correct them without belittling her worth.

‘I don’t want this to end’, she thought with a mix of joy and resignation.

“Hey!” he called her, finally pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts once a stalemate was met between the two when both battle axe and long sword didn’t yield a bit. “There was something I wanted to ask you but it also involves the Primarch and Legion Mother of the Dark Angels”

Oh no. That was going to be complicated.

“O-oh… Well… that’s going to…”

“EIREEN!”

Oh no no no no!

“Lion! By the damned throne, stop this nonsense!” and just right behind her father, there was her mother running with all her might to try and catch up with the Primarch.

“I’m not speaking with you, woman!”

Eireen admitted with some shyness that she had clumsily scrambled in panic to get back up from where she and Cadoc rested after their spar, a heavy weight dropping like a rock on her stomach at the scowl merring her father's face when looking over her friend.

The fact that the red-haired Space Wolf just smiled at her father after bowing his head in respect to the Primarch didn’t help at all.

“Eireen, you were supposed to be attending your diplomatic and history lessons” said the demigod in a strange mix of awkwardness and anger. It was easy to see how it took a lot of effort from him to not scoff when his eyes landed once again on her companion and friend. “Not lazing around here at your mother’s garden”

‘With him’ was the unsaid part of that sentence. Years of learned discipline were the only thing preventing the young girl from letting a very unladylike growl at how her father regarded the one single friend she had ever made.

“I… I had a few minutes free before my lessons, father” she defended, barely able to keep her stutter in check before her father scolded her for it. “I thought… I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to train my abilities with the long sword”

Lion opened his mouth ready to berate her for it (that was pretty obvious), but her mother interrupted just in time to save her from the awkwardness that was starting to build up between the few presents. It was a miracle that no Dark Angel had followed her parents here, but considering how stern the Lady of Caliban was when regarding her garden, Eireen counted her blessings by choosing this place as their hiding spot.

Small mercies.

“That’s very responsible of you, my love” it was amazing how easily her mother knew how to play with her father’s own methods and words against him. “Don’t you think, Lion? You always say that Eireen needs to practice her swordsmanship technique on the offensive. Even one of the astartes of your brother’s Legion is helping her!”

More than hearing, both ladies felt the rumble of a growl that begged to be free from the Primarch’s throat, who clearly didn’t find amusing being called out in his own hypocrisy.

“Enough of this disrespect! Eireen, go to your brother” said Lion after he managed to get a grip over his temper. “Callahan will make sure that you assist your lessons… without distractions”

Now it was the turn of the young lady to feel her face blush in embarrassment at the idea of being treated like she was still a toddler; one that needed to hold her brother’s hand all the time to find her way around everywhere they went.

“Actually! This is an excellent chance, my Lord and Lady. There was something important that I need to discuss”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Cadoc… what are you-”

“I wish to start my courting towards the Primarch’s daughter: Eireen”

The poor young girl swore that if more blood rushed to her face, she'd end up fainting on the spot.

The reaction of both her parents were quite a poem of different emotions; ranging from enraged shock to amazed confusion from both her father and mother respectively.

For a long moment, no one dared to even breathe too loud.

Eireen found herself staring straight at Cadoc’s face to try to see if this was some tasteless attempt of teasing from him… but the only thing that she managed to discover was a warm and peaceful look on his hardened expression when he stared at her back.

Oh, Grandfather almighty! She felt her heart flip inside her ribcage.

This was bad. Horrible bad timing too. The girl already saw the groundbreaking refusal her father was about to throw at Cadoc’s courting proposal.

“ABSOLUTELY…!”

“FINALLY!! JUST SAY YES TO HIM, EIREEN!”

And now, the poor girl could only cover her face in crushing embarrassment at the scream her brother had thrown while waiting for her at the edge of their mother’s garden.

How long had he been hearing?!

-°-

Dis me each time yall feed me ideas

[hannachuuu]

Preachers Daughter

for my one and only ethel cain girlies

𝔗𝔥𝔢 Village had always been my whole world, a small place shrouded in gloom and silence, tucked deep within the forests of eastern europe.

The heavy Irongates enclosing this safehaven i have called my home all my life had always felt like a barrier of protection, the chilling bedtime stories still haunting me to this day, even though i have outgrown my naive childlike-self, at least i believe so.

We´ve been warned, preached to, that one shall never cross the barrier that keeps us safe within, yet over time i started to notice that even iron rots, making me feel anxious. it had made me wonder wether this barricade, this shield, would hold up for the sake of our lifes, haunted by the thoughts by what awaits us beyond what i know.

My dad, the preacher, would take me down to the edge in the early morning hours, where the red beams of the new born sun would reflect off the dark metal, an image that would follow me into my dreams, good and bad ones. We would bless the rusted material, but with each time it seemed it would wither away more.

I tightend my grip around the small ourn, a family heirloom that has been passed down multiple generations already, cotaining freshly blessed water. A routine had established with tasks that i needed to fulfill with each year that i had gotten older, preparing me for the duties when i would find a husband, bear a child.

The cold morning air bit my cheeks, and the hem of my once white dress dragged along the dirt of the muddy path, picking up every fleck of flith that was stuck between the old cobblestones. Today something felt different, my heart was restless. In the distance the sound of the heavy church bells were echoing throught the dark forest, creating a haunting tune while mixing with the whispers of the wind.

My Nan would tell me stories when my father was away in church, busy preaching the eternal one. She would tell about the forest and the origins of us, from a land far, far away. Eventhough she was considered the villages mad old lady, i had loved to listen to her stories, making me excitedly jump each time she´d sit down in that old rocking chair on the poarch.

I remeber the last time i had talked to her until the old age got to her first, the allmighty flame engulfing her welcomingly. Eternal life was waiting for her blessed soul, in a form, different from her physical one. For the first time since i could think, her wrinkly face was scrunched together in a serious expression.

She told me about a prophecy she had dreamed about, including me and the future of our commune, written long before i had been born. Standing on the edge of the world i was crossing a path towards something my Nan wasnt able to identify, but judging by her void eyes, it seemed to have scared her deep within her old bones.

Her trembling hands had wrapped around my chubby face, her dark orbs locking with my own like she was studying my soul.

´´Your light will burn brigther than anyone elses my dear, but it will burn fast´´, she managed to choke out, ´´You will not see the world you create, but it will be a better one because of you...´´

´´The eternal flame doesnt just burn to punish, its burns to guide, to purify, to make way for something new. That´s what you are. A beacon to lead us into the unkown, our flame.´´

shedding a couple tears while embracing me tightly i had already felt her spirit leaving me behind, yet something had attched itself to my heart back then, keeping me safe and guiding me whenever i was lost on my path of believing.

When reaching the edge of the looming forest i felt a chill run down my spine, making me glance around nervously. The forest clinging to my dress while its skeleton like branches released me of their tight hold, nevertheless the heavy weight on my chest hadnt lifted.

I froze when i heard it -a low groan, faint but unmistakable. At first i had thought my imagination had gotten the better of me on this already strange day, but then i saw him.

Just beyond the Irongates, slumped against a tree, was a man. He looked strange, wearing clothes i had never seen before, it reminded me of uniforms i had seen in some of my schoolbooks. His attire however, looked everything but new. Dirty, torn and stained with blood, and his leg- twisted horribly into an unnatrual position- leaking crimson into the leaf covered soil.

I stood there, paralyzed, the wind gushing around me, as if an invisible force was pushing me towards him. Outsiders were forbidden, their presence a violation of everything id been taught. My fathers supercilious voice rang in my head, a sharp rebuke for even looking at a stranger. But the man groaned again, his head lolling to the side, and something deep within me shifted. He wasnt a threat. He was dying.

Clutching the cold Iron of the gate, staining my hands with the rust of the dirty metal, my heart hammering. If i helped him, id be breaking the communes most sacred law. If i left him, id be no better than the wickedness we claimed to shun. Taking a shaky breath, whispering my myself, ´´..surely the eternal flame wouldnt want me to let him suffer..´´, after all life was one of the most valuable sections in our existence.

Before i could think twice, i unlatched the gate and stepped into the forbidden woods. The air beyond felt colder, heavier, as though the forest itself was watching me. I crouched beside the wounded man, my hands trembling with fear. His eyes fluttered open for a split second, glazed with pain, and he muttered something i couldnt understand.

´´Its alright´´, i cooed softly, though wasnt sure it was, ´´ill help you´´.

Instincts took me over as i pressed my hands on his wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The weigth of what id done settled over me, the red crimson staining my delicate hands.

His voice rang in my ears, filled with so much agony and everything else seemed to fade into the background. Biting my lip hard i tried to keep myself from crying out as the blood gushed onto my white dress, staining it vermillion.

And when i decided to rip my dress apart in order to save him, it felt as if i ripped myself into two different pieces. I couldnt just leave him behind, everything in my being was fighting against that very thought.

So i crossed the line; I had let him in.

The wounded man wearing a mask symbolizing the very thing i was trying to save him from. His warm blood was seeping into my clothes, staining my skin red, marking me with the shame i had put over my family.

There was no turning back now, my familys urn left behind, dropped into the dirty soil by the rusted gate,squeaking angirly in the storm that was brewing in the dark summer sky.

[malk1ns]

february 8 @ flyers, 3-2 loss

we managed to skid into the two-week break without anyone else getting hurt in this game yay yippee! let's hope everyone gets healthy now because good grief.

exists in a world where the penguins still had their super bowl party at sid's on sunday the 9th instead of sid flying to montreal for four nations and geno flying to...wherever the fuck he was watching from. let's pretend that the first day of four nations practice was pushed to tuesday.

my honest reaction to the prospect of two full weeks with absolutely no sign of geno at all:

Zhenya has to begrudgingly admit that the visitor’s facilities in Philadelphia aren’t that bad.

They aren’t that good either, nothing compared to some of the newer places—Zhenya’s particularly fond of Seattle—but especially compared to places like Carolina, Philly is perfectly adequate. The locker room isn’t too cramped, the carpet doesn’t stink, the hot water works, and there’s a couch in the lounge that actually faces the TV and can fit more than one grown adult comfortably.

The couch is especially important, because the Penguins stopped requiring its scratches to watch games from the press box a few years ago and Zhenya’s never been back. Given the choice between wearing a suit and having to keep a neutral face while watching his team play without him and getting to kick back in sweatpants and swear as much and as loudly as he’d like, he’s picking the latter every time when he’s injured.

Sid, like the suck-up he is, stuck it out up above the ice for a few games, but pretty soon even he was changing out of his suit the second the cameras were gone for the game and sprawling out over whatever furniture was available, running his mouth at whoever’s stuck out with him about what’s going on in-game.

The season after Zhenya got his second knee surgery was some of the most fun he’d had while out injured, at least while Sid was doing rehab too. They spent a ton of time together, hanging around during each other’s PT times and making side bets on the games.

So, when Sid told him he’d be sitting the last two games before the break, to make sure his arm was back to 100%, Zhenya was excited. Sure, they’d be away instead of at home, but they’d be able to shit-talk the Rangers and Flyers together, and Zhenya wouldn’t have to haunt the bowels of the arenas like a ghost alone. Even better, he’d have a chance to actually spend time with Sid, who’s been acting off for months and annoyingly good at avoiding talking about it.

The Rangers game was a blast. Troy snuck them down some beers from the dad’s suite and Zhenya managed to goad Sid into some truly vicious shit-talking about New York’s entire roster. The win was the perfect cap to the day, and by the time they made it to Philly, Zhenya was ready to pass out in his hotel room with a smile on his face.

Sid was sour on Saturday, though, distracted and frowning at his phone during team breakfast and abandoning Zhenya to face the athletic trainers alone when they head to the arena for morning skate. Zhenya finally tracked him down on the ice, one of the last guys out there like always, shooting pucks at the net all alone viciously hard, with way too much force for someone who’s babying his arm in the hopes of representing his country in less than a week.

Eventually the coaches herded him off the ice. Sid was sullen on the bus back to the hotel.

“One of the caterers canceled,” he finally volunteered as they stepped off the bus and slipped into the hotel lobby. “For tomorrow, the Super Bowl,” he elaborated when Zhenya looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “They emailed me late last night and I’ve been trying to track down a replacement.”

Zhenya sighed loudly. “This why you’re such bitch?” he said, exaggerating his tone to try and eke a smile from Sid. It kind of worked. “Jesus, it’s not so serious, who cares?”

“It’s the wings guy,” Sid said grimly, and Zhenya groaned in empathy. The Pittsburgh Penguins take their chicken wings very seriously. “I think I got a lead, though. I just gotta make one more call and hopefully this gets wrapped up so I can nap.”

They’d knocked on wood at the reception desk, then gone their separate ways.

Sid hadn’t been ready for the early bus, but Zhenya went over anyway, eager to get his PT torture session over with so he could change and relax, and by the time Sid blows into the lounge Zhenya’s installed on the perfectly adequate couch, sucking down a protein shake and flicking through the channels as he waits for puck drop.

“New wings?” he asks, and Sid sneers at him. Zhenya purses his lips and shrugs, tracking Sid through the lounge as he slams open the refrigerator and digs for a snack.

“Other guy didn’t work out,” Sid says through a mouthful of granola as he drops heavily onto the couch. “Keep that on silent, I need to make a call.”

“You’re nap?” Zhenya asks, and Sid shakes his head sharply, jabbing at his phone. That explains a lot.

Sid’s on his phone through most of the first period, putting on his best aw-shucks voice as he tries to convince someone in a fifty-mile radius of Pittsburgh to whip up a couple hundred buffalo wings in under 24 hours. Zhenya half-listens, sending random Instagram reels in the Team Russia group chat and keeping an eye on the game playing out silently on the big screen across the room.

At one point, Sid gets up and paces in tight circles, and Zhenya puts his phone down to watch—Sid on the verge of a hosting-related breakdown is far more interesting than whatever jokes Kirya’s trying to make. Poor kid, he’s been out this season even longer than Zhenya has. Eventually, though, Sid drops his phone into his lap and sighs.

“All good?” Zhenya asks, passing the remote over before Sid can snatch it from his lap. 

Sid shrugs. “I found someone,” he says, but he still sounds pissy. “It was pretty far down my list, but the reviews are okay…hopefully it works out.”

“Bummer for not get usual, I’m like best,” Zheya says, stretching his legs forward and cringing when his left knee pops.

“Yeah, well, sorry about the letdown for your last ever Super Bowl party,” Sid mutters, and Zhenya whips his head around. Sid’s staring at the television with a surly look on his face.

The pieces are starting to come together. Sid’s avoidance, his odd caginess when Zhenya tries to talk about summer plans…

Over the summer, Sid and Zhenya talked a lot. Sid had been waffling about his contract extension, first wanting six years, then one, and Zhenya spent a lot of time listening as Sid talked himself into, then out of, and then back into the terms he was going to ask Pat to send to the team.

At some point, he’d tried to lighten the mood with a joke. He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, but it was something like, why not just ask for max term and if he feels like he wants to be done sooner than it expires he can just retire—Zhenya’s thinking of doing the same after this upcoming season, after all.

It hadn’t been serious. He’d thought about it; he’s still thinking about it. But he still doesn’t quite feel ready to be done with the Penguins as a player, so it’s really nothing more than a fancy, an idea he revisits when his knees ache so badly they wake him up in the middle of the night. The comment to Sid was nothing, less than a throwaway.

Sid had gone quiet, and that conversation had ended quickly. Zhenya didn’t hear from Sid for a few days. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time; they’re both busy, and Zhenya loses track of how long it’s been between travel, charity tournaments, and arguing with Anya through their lawyers.

When they got back to Pittsburgh, though, Sid was still acting off. He’s lightened up as the season’s worn on, but Zhenya still catches Sid watching him with a strange intensity sometimes. He clams up when Zhenya asks what’s wrong, neatly avoids all efforts at a serious conversation before Zhenya even realizes he’s changed the subject.

Now, though, it’s making sense.

“Sid,” Zhenya says, reaching out and trying to touch Sid’s shoulder. Sid flinches away from him. “You’re mad I make joke that maybe I retire this year? It’s not serious, like, okay I think about, but I’m still here, you know, I’m still do my best to play.”

“Whatever,” Sid snaps. He’s turning the remote over in his hands, and Zhenya wants to reach over and take it away from him. “I don’t care what you do. Go back to Russia now if you want, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Change what?” Zhenya demands, lost. Sid’s getting worked up, angry in a way that Zhenya hasn’t seen since they were much younger and Sid was less in control of his emotions. “Who’s say I go back to Russia? Maybe I move to Miami with Nikita. Maybe I stay in Pittsburgh! Jesus, Sid, what’s your problem?”

Sid snorts, turning to glare at Zhenya. “Come on,” he says, scornful. “Everyone knows you’re going to go back to Russia. You’ll move home and play for Metallurg, and once you’re back in Russia you and Anna will figure it out and get back together, and you’ll stay there until your Hall induction, and by then I won’t—” He snaps his mouth shut.

Zhenya feels like he’s scrambling to keep up with a video game he’s never played before. “Sid, I tell you, Anya and I, like, it’s done for real. We’re figure out how to be friends for Nikita, maybe, but we’re not together. Why you’re say all this? You won’t what?”

Sid presses his mouth into a flat line. His eyes flicker over Zhenya’s face, and he squares his shoulders. For a wild moment, Zhenya wonders if Sid’s going to hit him. “I won’t be able to tell you how I feel about you. I’ll have run out of time,” he says.

His words land like bricks in the quiet room. 

“Feel about…” Zhenya knows what Sid means, though, and his entire world tilts on its axis.

The entire twenty years rearrange themselves. Pieces move into place, events take on new meaning.

Sid watches him steadily. Zhenya looks back helplessly. Neither of them say another word.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

love the idea of being a controversially young gf for roy 🤭

Omg YES this is one of my favorites for him (even though I'm coming up on 30 and am officially out of the controversial range 😭)

Spotting Roy at a bar and having your girlfriends egg you on to go say hi to the man you all grew up watching on the telly (and, admittedly, your first crush ever).

Flirting with Roy heavily, watching him slowly let his guard down until he finally blurts out the one thing he'd been thinking since you approached him "How old are you anyway?"

Batting your eyes at him innocently and purring, "Old enough for you to buy me a drink."

One drink turning into two turning into him bringing you home for what he chalks up to a hookup, something for you to brag about to your friends.

But fuck it, he decides as he watches you get dressed the next morning. He likes you. He surprises himself and asks to see you again. And- another surprise- you smile and say yes.

When he picks you up for your date, you're surprised to find him at your front door, not texting you from the car like most of the guys you go out with; it's sweet. Roy Kent is sweet.

It goes well. Really well, actually. Roy finds himself laughing at your jokes and smiling at your pretty face and having a damn good time. Hell, at the end of the night he brings you home, again. And asks you out, again.

But then, the next day, he sees the photos some papps had snapped of the date. And sees the comments people made, calling you a golddigger, calling him a creep. And it's almost enough to stop him from going out with you anymore.

Almost.

Because every time he thinks he needs to break things off, you surprise him. You buy him that book he'd been looking at weeks ago. You make him his favorite meal after a bad match. You don't muss at all when he needs to cancel plans to take care of Phoebe. You're good to him.

And you don't let the press bug you either. You roll your eyes when they call him old enough to be your dad, joking "Guess you don't have to be a father to be a DILF, babe." When they call you Roy's "little plaything" you smirk and tell him "How do they know what you call me in bed?"

Your nonchalance has Roy feeling better, relieved that you keep your chin up, encouraging him to do the same.

And oh, don't get Roy started on the bedroom. Even with those million one night stands, he's working his ass off to keep up with you. He finds himself in the weight room more often, wanting to get back the physique he had while he was still playing, plus wanting to make sure he's got the stamina for you.

Of course, all Roy's training does is make him more irresistible to you, creating a cycle neither of you minds too much.

The only thing Roy actually minds about the whole thing is when you go out with the team and you get misidentified as one of the player's girlfriends. (It's even worse if it's Jamie.)

Of course, when people see the way you dance close to Roy and the way you just can't keep your hands off him, there's no question whose girl you are 💙

[canirove]

Canary boy | Chapter 14

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Friday)

Masterlist

“Morning.”

“Good morning” I smile. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas” Pedri smiles back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Same. Though with this mattress and the company, it was easy” he says, pulling me closer towards him.

“My mattress?” I laugh.

“You haven't slept in my bed yet, Inés. This is like a cloud compared to it.”

“It can't be that bad.”

“Is that your way of telling me that you want to get into my bed?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I already did that. Or have you forgotten about Tenerife?”

“I will never forget about Tenerife. Ever.”

“Woke up cheesy, uh?” I tease him.

“Oh, I am very cheesy, Inés. You don't know what is coming your way.”

“Looking forward to it, tho” I smile before kissing him. A kiss that leads to more kissing and to more of what we did last night when we got home after having dinner with my dad. A dinner that wasn't as bad as I had expected it to be.

Were his girlfriend and her daughter as bad as my sisters had said? Kind of. 

Minerva, the mother, basically jumped at me to hug me when she saw me, telling me how excited she was about finally meeting me in person and that my dad had told her lots of things about me. She had also been that effusive with Pedri, talking to him as if I hadn't told my dad that same morning if I could be bring a plus one, and then whispering to me a “he is cute” followed by a giggle. 

During dinner she didn't stop asking me all sorts of questions to try and get to know me better, always listening to me as if I was telling the most amazing story you had ever heard. And what surprised me the most was that she wasn't faking it. She was actually listening and paying attention to what I was telling her. So what did my sisters probably find annoying about her? That she is loud. And expressive. Very expressive. She would have been an amazing actress during the silent films days. 

Her daughter, on the other hand… Well. 

Her name is Carolina, though she wants to be called Carol. And the moment her mum introduced us, the first thing she said to me was “that's not Víctor” while looking at Pedri from head to toe with a disgusted look on her face. Not a “hello, Inés. Nice to meet you.” No. She said that followed by “I thought you were dating Víctor. I already told my friends I was going to meet him and take a bunch of photos with him to make them jealous. But you've shown up with… him.” 

“Sorry to disappoint” Pedri had replied with his most charming smile while I just looked at her trying to decide if I should slap her, punch her, or both. How dared she be that rude?

And that thought was one that crossed my mind a few more times during dinner as she kept making the meanest and most out of line comments about me and my sisters, Pedri having to hold my hand under the table at one point. 

“You were going to actually hit her, weren't you?” he chuckled on our way home.

“I was really close to, yes. But do you blame me? She was being a bitch” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “And then when she started to shamelessly flirt with you after being like eww, you aren’t Víctor? What the fuck was that?”

“It’s the Canarian charm, Inés.”

“The what?” I laughed.

“The Canarian charm. No one can resist it, you the first one” Pedri smirked. “Also, were you get jealous when she started flirting with me?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean… Urgh” I groaned. 

“Inés… Inés, look at me” he said, caressing my cheek. “There is no reason for you to get jealous. I only have eyes for you. You and only you” he said before kissing me.

And that kiss and that confession, plus the “I like you very much” from earlier, was the one that led us to my bed and to waking up together this morning, making it probably the best Christmas morning of my life after the one where I found out Father Christmas had gotten me the Barbie's mansion I had been asking for the whole year.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Are you nervous?”

“Are you?”

“I asked first, Pedri.”

“Ok, fine” he chuckles. “I must confess I'm a bit nervous. I know I have your father's blessing, but meeting your grandparents and all your uncles, aunts and cousins, is quite daunting.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You have my father's blessing?” I ask him, my mouth so open that any moment now my jaw is going to hit the floor. 

“Yeah.”

“When did that happen?”

“Last night when we were saying goodbye.”

“What? What did he say?”

“He…” 

“Inés!” my grandmother says, opening the door of her house and interrupting us. “Oh, Inés, my girl” she says before hugging me.

“Hi” I reply while hugging her back, giving one last look at Pedri that I hope he understands as “this conversation isn't over”. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas” she smiles. “And this must be your guest” she says, looking at Pedri.

“He is, yes. Grandma, meet Pedri. Pedri, my grandma.”

“Nice to meet you ma'am” he says with his most charming smile, one that makes me blush.

“Nice to meet you too” she replies. “But come, come. Don't stay out there in the cold” she says, gesturing us to go inside. “He is a handsome one, Inés. Good job” she whispers and winks when I walk past her. 

“Are you the one in this photo, ma'am?” he asks her after we take off our coats.

“On my wedding day, yes.”

“You look so much like Inés… Or Inés like you” he chuckles. 

“Everyone says it, but I don't see it” I say, looking at the photo.

“Really? You have the same smile.”

“And in that photo we actually have the same age” grandma says. “But there is no rush for you to get married so young, it was a different time. Anyway, how come you didn't go to the bar with everyone else?” she asks us as we follow her to the living room.

“We just weren't in the mood for it” I say. Or I wasn't in the mood for it, to be honest. Because if Pedri was going to freak out when meeting my family on my dad's side, I didn't want him to do it somewhere public and surrounded by even more strangers.

And you may be wondering, how did we go from being in my bed doing things to meeting my grandma and spending Christmas with my family? Well, it all happened while we were having breakfast. 

He was telling me that he had no plans for the rest of the day, that since this year Mario was away with his parents on a cruise, he would probably stay home, call his family and watch all the movies he can't when Mario is around because he doesn't like them. 

It all sounded so sad, that I just had to do something about it. I couldn't bear the thought of him alone on Christmas day eating cold food. I just couldn't. 

And even though when I suggested it I wasn't (and still am) not too sure this will work out, I met his parents and basically his whole family in one go, didn't I? Now it is his turn.

“They can be very loud, especially if they start arguing about politics or football” grandma says. “Lucky you, Pedri, those topics are not allowed during family gatherings, so you won't have to deal with that. Can't promise you they won't be loud, tho” she chuckles.

My family on my dad's side consists of four siblings, two men and two women, and each one of them has two children (three in my dad's case). All but my parents still are together, some of my cousins already are married or have serious partners, and one of them just had a baby. I would make the math myself but I suck, so let's just say we are a lot even with my sisters not coming and not counting my mum.

“I'll be fine, don't worry” he smiles.

Will I be fine, tho? We'll see.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“If you answer this correctly you win the whole thing, Pedri” my cousin Daniel says. 

“No pressure there” I tell him with a teasing smile. “Ready?” 

“Ready” he replies with a matching one.

“So, Pedri. To win this round of Trivial and make us all look stupid… Who is known as the Nine Days Queen?” my cousin asks him.

“That's so easy!” I complain.

“It sucks to not be the cleverest of the family anymore, doesn't it?” Daniel smirks.

“Meh meh meh” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and sticking out my tongue. 

Playing Trivial on Christmas day has been a tradition in my family since my dad and his siblings were young, and basically since the day they allowed me to play on my own and not as my dad's plus one, I have always won. Always. 

There have been years where my family hasn't wanted to play with me because they already knew I was going to win and that was boring and where we tried different games like Uno or Jenga. But I always ended up winning too (which hasn't made me the most loved cousin). But it isn't my fault I am that good at boarding games, and that being a football player has made me extremely competitive.

“He hasn't answered yet, tho. He may get it wrong, and Inés is just behind him” one of my aunts says. 

“Pedri, you have to get this right. We can't have another year of Inés showing off, I've started having nightmares about it” Daniel says.

“What?” I laugh.

“Let's end Inés’ tyranny, Pedri.”

“Rude.”

“C'mon, Pedri. You can do this” says Noelia, another of my cousins. “If she makes you sleep on the sofa after this, my bed is there for you” she winks. 

“I beg your pardon?” I say, giving her a murderous look while everyone else just laughs, Pedri included.

“What? He's hot, Inés” she shrugs. 

“Ok, time to give us you answer, Pedri. Who is known as the Nine Days Queen?” Daniel asks him again. 

“Jane Grey” he replies with a big smile. 

“Urgh” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“He has won!” Daniel says, throwing the little card with all the questions in the air. “We have a new winner!”

“Finally!” Noelia says. “Congratulations, Pedri” she says before kissing his cheek.

“Hey!” 

“Don't be jealous, Inés!” she says with a teasing smile. “Sharing is caring.”

“Whatever” I say, getting up from my chair and letting Pedri be praised and congratulated by half my family, his face giving away that he is loving the attention. Traitor.

“It was bound to happen any day now, Inés” my dad says when I walk past him. He had been watching us play while having a drink like he does every year. He likes to sit next to one of the windows and say he is like the referee, keeping an eye to see if anyone cheats. And since the day they put the var technology in football, we've started calling him bar with b. Because he is drinking and you do that in a bar and… You get the joke. “And better to be him that not one of your cousins. You know they would tease you about it for years” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess” I sigh while looking at Pedri laughing with one of my aunts. He has won over everyone in my family in just a few hours, especially the women. Guess the Canarian charm actually is a thing. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course” he smiles.

“Is it true that last night when we were saying goodbye, you gave Pedri your blessing?”

“I… I did” he says with a shy smile. “And I know what you are going to say now. That we live in the 21st century, that you don't need my blessing, that you are an independent woman… And all that is true, Inés. But I did it because I feel like you and Pedri need a little push.”

“A little push?” 

“Yes, like… You clearly are together and in love with each other, anyone with eyes can see it. But you keep introducing him as just your friend when he is more than that. And I feel like you are doing it because you need some reassurance before you take the next step, before you make it official. As if you were a bit scared because he would be your first proper boyfriend, and maybe you his first proper girlfriend too. And I get it, Inés. Because it has taken me ages to find the courage to introduce you and your sisters to Minerva, mainly because you know how… Intimidating the twins can be.”

“Yeah…”

“So I'm sorry if me telling that to Pedri bothered you. It's just that… Well, you haven't grown up with the best example when it comes to relationships, and since that mainly is my fault… I don't want you to have to go through that pain. I want you to be happy, Inés” he says, taking my hand on his and giving it a little squeeze.

“I know” I reply, trying not to get emotional. My dad has always been kind of cold. He isn't into kissing, hugging, telling you that he loves you, or talking about feelings (especially his). And he always avoids talking about the reasons why he and my mum divorced, it's like a tabu. So everything he just said… that little gesture of taking my hand on his… is huge for someone like him. 

“And you look so happy with him… You are glowing, oozing happiness” he laughs. “And then this season you've been playing amazing too. So far it is the best one you've had since you joined the first team. And even though I'm not saying it is all because of him, because you don't need a man to be happy or be the best at kicking asses on the pitch figuratively speaking and sometimes not so much…” he says with a playful smile. “He has definitely helped, hasn't he?”

“A bit, yeah” I nod.

“Then cherish it, Inés” my dad says, caressing my cheek with his free hand. “Cherish these moments of happiness and make the most of them. Enjoy them fully. Like grandad always says…”

“Carpe Diem” I smile.

“Carpe Diem” he repeats. 

“I love you, dad” I say before hugging him.

“Oh, Inés. Losing has hurt you so much that you've run to daddy's arms?” my cousin teases me.

“Shut up, Daniel!” 

“Inés, are you ok?” Pedri asks me with a concerned look. 

“She's fine. Christmas always makes her a bit emotional, doesn't it?” my dad chuckles, wiping away my tears. Seeing Pedri looking so worried about me had finally freed them.

“And losing” Daniel giggles.

“Fuck you” I reply, showing him my middle finger and making him laugh. “I'm gonna see if they need a hand in the kitchen.”

“I'll go with you” Pedri says, quickly getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, make sure Inés doesn't chop off her finger or something” Daniel says.

“What I am going to do is chop off your head.”

“Love you too, cousin” he smiles before Pedri and I leave the living room.

“Is he always like that?” he asks me.

“Uh?”

“Daniel. Is he always so mean to you?”

“Oh, that isn't him being mean. That's just the way our relationship has always worked” I shrug. “Daniel and I were born just a few months apart and his parents used to take care of me pretty often when I was little, so we are like siblings. And like most siblings do, we constantly tease each other. Though the moment someone else does it to any of us, the other comes in their defense and becomes the most protective person ever. Growing up he got into a bunch of fights to defend me from stupid classmates or while watching me play because people were insulting me. Once he even jumped into the pitch.”

“That's… I mean, Fer and I tease each other all the time, but not like you two do.”

“By now you should already know that my family isn't an ordinary one” I chuckle.

“Knowing you, it was expected.”

“Hey!” I say, giving him a little push and making us both laugh.

“Sorry” Pedri says. “But if what he said is normal… Why were you crying and hugging your dad like that?”

“It was because of something he said, but it isn't anything bad. It actually was something really good. Though thank you for worrying about me, Pedri. It is really cute.”

“Well, I am really cute” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and pushing me against one of the corridor’s walls. 

“Yes, you are” I reply, resting my hands on his chest. 

“Have I earned a kiss for being cute?” he asks me with a cheeky smile. 

“Here? What if someone sees us?”

“They won't. They are all busy either in the kitchen or in the living room.”

“What if someone has to go to the bathroom?”

“Inés…”

“Or what if someone rings the bell and they have to go open the door? You know we are waiting for one of my cousins. Or maybe…”

“Or maybe a meteorite is about to hit the earth and it will be the end of the world.”

“That's a bit dramatic, isn't it?” I chuckle. “And it is Christmas day, the world can't end today.”

“Can't it? Ask Doctor Who” he chuckles. 

“You watch “Doctor Who”? Oh my God, you are even more of a geek than I thought!” I tease him.

“Meh, meh, meh” he replies, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, are you going to kiss me or not? Because if you don't, your cousin Noelia will.”

“She won't dare.”

“Won't she?” Pedri smirks.

Oh, she would. She definitely would. And it would not be the first time she kisses someone's boyfriend. Ask her neighbour's daughter.

“Ok, but” I say, putting a finger on those lips of his that I adore so much. “I've come up with another crazy idea like the one I had yesterday when I showed up at your flat and that I would like to suggest to you.”

“Does it involve your family?”

“It does.”

“Then I'm gonna need that kiss first to be able to deal with it.”

“Fine” I sigh. “Though only because you are really cute” I smile before kissing him. Or trying to. Because the moment our lips touch…

“Get a room!” Daniel yells from the living room’s door, this time being Pedri the one who shows him his middle finger while I just laugh against his lips.

[cassiopeiaiaia]

I kinda did something

It’s only like the first chapter but I may be brewing smth up here.

This is hopefully gonna simmer into a full 10 Things I Hate About You AU.

Idk tho.

“Soda!” Ponyboy’s shrill voice rings out from across the house. “Where did you put my Harry Potter books?”

Soda barely looks up from his duffel bag, shoving another pair of jeans in. He loves his kid-brother, he really does, but Pony’s always finding something to be yellin’ his head off about.

“Hell if I know. I don’t read, Pony-buddy.”

He hasn’t touched a single one of those godforsaken novels since they read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in third grade and he mistook the word fortune for foreskin. Got himself some real funny looks for that one. Earned himself a detention, too.

“They were on my shelf this morning,” Pony whines, stomping into the room looking entirely too distraught for someone who just lost a couple of books about some British kid with glasses. “And now they’re gone!”

“Maybe they ran off,” Soda mutters, rolling up a t-shirt and cramming it in the bag. “Maybe they couldn’t take any more of your nerd-ass re-reads.”

Pony scowls, arms crossed. “Darry took them, didn’t he.”

Ever since Mom and Dad died, it seemed as if Darry and Ponyboy were always at each other’s throats. Every conversation turned into a fight, and every fight ended with Soda playing middleman.

Still, if Darry did take those books, there was a high chance Pony would never see them again. These past few days, Darry had been donating, selling, and throwing stuff out like a madman, ruthless in his decisions.

Mom’s cookbooks she got as a birthday present from Aunt Carol? Gone.

Dad’s old leather watches? Sold to the highest bidder.

Soda’s Schleich collection? He came home one day to find them stacked in a box on Darry’s backseat, on its way to Goodwill.

He didn’t really need those horses, but still, it hurt. They were from Mom and Dad. And they were his.

But Darry was being practical. The house was almost empty now, their lives reduced to boxes and garbage bags, packed tight and ready for a one-way trip to Washington. A new start. A place with Aunt Maggie, Keith, and Brenda, who offered to take them in after the accident.

It wasn’t like they had a choice. They couldn’t afford the house, and Darry couldn’t work himself into the grave trying to keep them all afloat. So they were leaving. Leaving Tulsa, leaving their home, leaving everything that still felt like their parents.

Pony didn’t want to go. Neither did Soda, if he was being honest. But Darry had made up his mind. And once Darry made up his mind, that was it.

Soda exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Pony. But if Darry took them, you better say your goodbyes.”

Pony groans, dragging his hands down his face. “I knew it. I knew it. He’s been on some kind of warpath lately—first my rock collection, now Harry Potter?”

Soda zips up his duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Pony, you had a rock that looked like a kidney stone. You needed that gone.”

Pony glares at him, scowling. “That was an agate, you uncultured swine.”

Soda snorts, stepping past him. “You’re startin’ to sound like Dad.”

Pony follows on his heels, still fuming. They find Darry in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he wipes down the counters with all the enthusiasm of a man scrubbing crime scene evidence. A half-filled box labeled DONATE sits on the table, and sitting right on top—like some kind of sick trophy—is Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Pony gasps so dramatically he might as well have been stabbed. “I knew it!”

Darry barely looks up. “If you knew it, why are you acting so surprised?”

Pony marches over, snatching the book from the pile. “You can’t just throw out my stuff, Darry!”

“I can if it’s been gathering dust for two years.” Darry grabs a dish towel and flicks it at him, missing by inches. “You read these so much I could recite half the spells, and I don’t even like ‘em.”

Soda leans against the fridge, watching like it’s a Saturday morning cartoon. He hates it when his brothers fight, but it sure is entertaining.

“That’s not the point,” Pony huffs, clutching the beat-up book to his chest like Darry might wrestle it away. “You didn’t even ask me!”

Darry exhales sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We don’t have room for junk, Ponyboy. We’re barely gonna have room for us.”

That one lands hard, and for a second, Pony doesn’t have a comeback. Soda watches his little brother’s shoulders tense. Darry, always practical, always making the tough calls. He doesn’t mean to be heartless—he just doesn’t have time to think about things like memories and sentiment when there are bills to pay and mouths to feed.

When their parents died, Darry took charge, like he always did. Like he had no choice but to. Which, he kinda didn’t. But sometimes Soda wonders if Darry thinks moving will make it hurt less. If getting rid of everything their parents touched would get rid of the pain too. If leaving will mean they don’t have to walk past their parents’ bedroom every day and remember that nobody sleeps there anymore.

But the thing is, Soda thinks, leaving won’t change any of that. Their parents are still gone. Their home is still empty. And the world is still going to exist without them in it.

Soda sighs, stepping in before this turns into another screaming match. “Alright, look. Pony keeps his nerd books. You keep being a tight-ass about space. We all win.”

Darry mutters something under his breath but doesn’t argue. Pony shoves the book under his arm and stalks off, muttering something about fascism.

Soda watches him go before turning back to Darry. “You did get rid of my Schleich horses, didn’t you?”

Darry doesn’t answer.

Soda groans. “Goddammit, Darry.”

The night air is sticky with summer heat, even though Pony’s inside. Tulsa always holds onto heat longer than it should, like the pavement and air itself don’t know how to let go.

Ponyboy is feeling a lot like Tulsa right now.

He should be inside packing, packing up Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets into that ugly red suitcase Dad bought for him four years ago, for summer camp. It was the same camp Dad went to, Camp Loughridge, and he was so excited for Pony to go.

Was.

Pony’s dad is now a was.

It’s a word Pony tries not to think about, but he sees it everywhere–when he looks over at the empty chairs at the ends of the dining table, when he hears a deep, hearty laugh in the crowd and turns a little too quick, when he opens a drawer and finds something of Dad’s shoved away in a corner and forgets, just for one second, that he’s not coming back to claim it.

Now, he’s finding it in the ugly red color of his suitcase.

It’s too small. It always was, even four years ago, packing for a fortnight away at a campsite. His books don’t fit right, the zipper keeps catching, and it’s ugly, a too-bright red that stands out against everything else he owns. He’s thought about leaving it behind. But it was Dad’s pick—Dad’s idea—so Pony keeps shoving things inside, even though it’ll never close right.

It’s like trying to pack up himself.

Trying to make grief fit into neat little spaces, to fold it away in boxes and suitcases and goodbyes that don’t feel real.

And Pony doesn’t work that way. Not like Darry.

Perfect Darry, who can’t seem to wait to get rid of every single piece of jewelry Mom owned.

Who can’t wait to get out of Tulsa, where he can scholarship his way into college.

Who can’t wait to get rid of Pony and Soda.

Well, not Soda. Nobody ever wants to get rid of Soda. He’s the golden boy, the one who can make anyone smile, the one everyone gravitates toward.

If Darry is cold as night, then Soda’s the Sun, pulling everyone into his orbit.

And Pony? Pony’s always been the extra piece. The one Darry didn’t ask for, the one that made things harder.

And now, Darry finally has an excuse to be rid of him.

Ponyboy’s throat feels tight, like there’s something lodged in it that he can’t swallow down. He kicks the suitcase aside like it’s done him wrong. Maybe it has. Maybe it’s proof that this is real, that tomorrow morning, they’ll pile into a car and leave Tulsa behind forever.

He can’t fucking stand it.

Without thinking, he grabs his jacket and slips out the door. He doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s already halfway there.

The park.

It’s quieter at night, just the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees, and the occasional hum of a car passing in the distance. The swings creak in the wind, empty.

****

Ponyboy’s feet are dragging through the dirt, just barely keeping up with his dad as they head for the swings. It's a rare moment, just the two of them, after a long day of yard work, the sun starting to dip low, turning the sky a soft golden orange.

Darry was at the movies with his school friends, and Mom was inside helping Soda with his English homework, so Dad offered to take Pony to the park.

“You ever get tired of it, Pone?” His dad’s voice is unexpectedly soft as he stops by the swing, hands on his hips, looking at the horizon.

“Tired of what?” Pony asks, confused.

“Of this.” His dad gestures to everything—the neighborhood, the park, the world. “Of Tulsa, I guess. Y’know, it’s a small town, ya’ ever get tired of not being able to do everything you want.”

“I don’t think so. Not yet. I got time.” Pony stops, not really thinking about it. Sue him, he was eight and bored and he wanted to flip off the swings like Curly Shepard did. He got on, and swung his feet back and forth.

His dad chuckles, but it sounds like a sigh. He grabs the swing and gives it a push. “Time’s a funny thing, Pone. Feels like you’ve got all of it, and then one day, you turn around, and it’s gone.”

Pony’s brow furrows, confused. “But you said—”

“Just listen, buddy. Don’t take it all for granted, okay? Because one day, you’ll be sitting here, looking at all this, and realize you didn’t even appreciate what you had.”

Pony looks at the swing, and he feels like he’s supposed to get it. His dad is looking at him with that serious, almost worried expression he gets when he thinks he’s not being clear enough.

“I don’t get it,” Pony admits, and his dad ruffles his hair.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You’ll figure it out.” Then, more lightly: “How ‘bout a race to the slides? Bet I can beat you.”

Pony smiles, feeling lighter. “You’re on.”

He was eight, too young to brood.

They run, side by side, but by the time they reach the slide, Pony’s dad is already laughing and pretending to be out of breath.

Pony grins and shakes his head, but in that moment, there’s no one else in the world but them.

****

When you’re eight, you don’t know the score.

But at fourteen, Pony thinks he knows better.

Well, at least, he knows what Dad meant now. When Pony was little, he always assumed his parents would be around forever. Well, he knew on a basis that they’d die, but that was supposed to be later, when Pony was an old man. And that seemed like forever.

But now? It’s like the universe is giving a giant fuck you with the way everything’s turning out.

He can’t stop thinking about it—how fast everything shifted, how quickly his parents were gone. One day, they were alive, and the next, they were gone. Dead. And they can never go back, never go back to when Pony was eight and his parents weren’t a was. The world seemed so big back then, with so much time ahead of him, but now it’s closing in.

Every time he looks around, it’s like he sees the remnants of what used to be. The neighborhood they’ve lived in his whole life, the park where his dad once raced him to the slides—it’s all the same, but it feels different. Smaller, somehow. More permanent in its stillness, like it’s frozen in time while he keeps moving forward, leaving everything behind.

It’s not that he didn’t hear what his dad was trying to say that day. He heard the words. He just didn’t understand them. Time always felt like something you had too much of, something that would stretch out forever if you didn’t pay attention. But now? Now, it’s like he’s running out of it. Running out of time to get things right, running out of time to figure out what he’s supposed to do with the pieces of himself that feel like they died with Mom and Dad.

He wishes he could go back to being eight, when he thought there was always tomorrow. When the world was just a place for games and who tattled on who during recess, and the biggest problem was whether or not he could flip off the swings like Curly Shepard.

But that's gone, and now the swings sit empty, swaying in the wind.

Pony’s fucking gone.

Pony’s fucking gone because Darry yelled at him and–God, does he ever do anything but that? Yelling?

Darry never used to yell, at least he doesn’t think he did. But now it’s like the words just come out before he can stop them, spilling out sharp and mean and cutting through the air. Like every single thing his little brother does is the last straw, like he’s the one that’s gotta hold everything together now.

Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s just easier to snap at the kid who’s still there than it is to deal with the parents who aren’t.

But Darry can’t stop it. He doesn’t know how to.

Pony’s the same level of insufferable he was before Mom and Dad died, which means annoying—but not God-help-me-or-else-I’m-gonna-strangle-this-kid-annoying like Kid Shepard is. No, Pony’s just… Pony. So why the hell does Darry always feel like his throat is closing up every time he opens his mouth? Every time he yells, every time he says something too sharp? Like he can’t stop himself from tearing this family apart with words.

Darry grabs another box from the countertop, the flaps already taped shut but not quite sticking as they should. If Darry never smells the God-awful smell of Sellotape again in his life he still win’t be content. His hands shake as he fumbles with it, trying to push everything down further, just like he’s been doing for the past few days—shoving all the pieces of their old life into boxes, all the memories, all the things that used to matter. But it doesn’t matter how hard he tries, there’s always one piece left behind. One thing that refuses to squeeze into the corners of his perfect, neat world.

It’s the guilt.

The guilt he can’t shake, even when the world keeps moving forward like nothing’s wrong.

Darry exhales, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s exhausted. He’s been exhausted for months, ever since that goddamn phone call in the middle of the night—the one that fucked up his whole entire life.

It’s maybe his fault they’re dead.

He doesn’t let himself think about it often, but some nights it just creeps in. Like now.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t have been out that late if it wasn’t for him. Wouldn’t have been on that road, in that storm, driving back from picking up a stupid birthday cake he never even got to eat.

They’d still be here. Still be breathing. Still be telling him to get off Soda’s ass for being a man-whore and laughing at Pony’s stupid little quirks instead of snapping at them.

He’d still have football, and his friends, and Randy.

Soda wouldn’t have to worry about getting a job just so they wouldn’t starve, about dropping out to make more time for that job, about smiling like everything’s perfect when Darry knows damn well it’s not even close.

Pony wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him, wouldn’t have to flinch when Darry raises his voice, wouldn’t have to come home to a brother who’s too exhausted to be the kind of guardian he deserves. Wouldn’t have to grow up without a Mom and Dad.

Because Mom and Dad would still be here.

And Darry?

He could still be himself.

Darry squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. No. He can’t do this right now.

What he can do is find Pony. Because even if Darry’s pissed off, even if he’s sick of the fighting, even if his head is so full of responsibilities and grief and guilt he feels like he might explode—Pony is still his brother. And Darry might not know how to be soft with him, but he does know how to keep him safe.

And right now? That means making sure he’s not alone in the middle of the night, wandering off to God-knows-where, in a city that doesn’t give two shits about three orphaned boys trying to hold their lives together.

Packing can wait. He has to go find his baby brother.

What if there was a 10 things I Hate About You Outsiders AU, with either Dylvia (Sallas? Dylvia? bro idk) as Patrick/Kat, or Stevepop or Purly.

Am I on to smth?

[real-life-cloud]

💔

[galariangengar]

I’ve had 3 weird dreams over the past couple days… and I don’t have dreams that often tbh, especially this many in a short amount of time

[roaringroa]

hate being sick fr

[f1-tennisgirlie]

okay may not be my best work (idk how to write cosy shit but I tried)

hope you like it <3 (you'll be happy to know that since I read this idea of yours yesterday I haven't been able to do anything but think about them which in turn forced me to come out of my self imposed writing break 😭)

Everyday Moments with Jannik, Carlos, and Amara

Morning Routines and Tiny Competitions

The Sinner-Alcaraz household always started the day with movement—whether it was Carlos bounding out of bed with the energy of a thousand suns or Jannik methodically making his way to the kitchen for his much-needed coffee. And then there was Amara, the unpredictable element who could either be a whirlwind of giggles like her papi (Carlos) or stubbornly burrowed under her blankets like her dad (Jannik) on his days off.

Today, she was the whirlwind.

“Papi! Dad! Who can get to the kitchen first?!” she shouted, already halfway down the hall in her socks, her little feet skidding across the wooden floor.

Carlos shot up immediately. “You’re on, princesa!”

Jannik groaned from under his blanket, refusing to move. “Carlos, don’t encourage her.”

But Carlos was already sprinting, and Amara squealed as he caught up to her, scooping her up mid-run and spinning her around before setting her down at the kitchen table. “Winner!” Carlos declared dramatically, flexing his arms.

Jannik, finally making his way in at his usual measured pace, arched an eyebrow. “That’s cheating.”

Amara, arms crossed, nodded seriously. “Yeah, Papi. That’s cheating.”

Carlos feigned offense. “Cheating? No, that’s called strategy—you gotta use your strengths!”

Jannik handed Amara a glass of orange juice and smirked. “Which, in your case, is always over-the-top dramatics.”

Carlos gasped. “Rude.”

Amara giggled, sipping her juice. “It’s true, though.”

Dancing in the Kitchen

Cooking in their home was always an event, mostly because Carlos couldn’t do it without music. The kitchen was their stage, and breakfast prep turned into an impromptu dance party.

“Alexa, play something fun!” Amara called, and soon enough, upbeat Latin music flooded the kitchen.

Carlos, never one to miss an opportunity, grabbed Amara’s hands and started twirling her around the kitchen while the pancake batter sat forgotten on the counter. Amara laughed, spinning dramatically before running up to Jannik, tugging his hand. “Dad, you too!”

Jannik rolled his eyes but let himself be pulled into the chaos. “Fine. But I’m not twirling.”

Carlos laughed, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re no fun.”

Jannik smirked. “I’m practical.”

That didn’t stop Amara from forcing him into a tiny step routine that Carlos promptly hyped up as though Jannik had just won a major dance competition.

Lazy Afternoon Fort Building

Some days, the Sinner-Alcaraz family enjoyed being homebodies. Amara, armed with all the blankets and pillows she could carry, was determined to build the "best fort ever."

“Dad, hold this!” Amara commanded, tossing a blanket at Jannik, who sighed but complied.

Carlos, meanwhile, was enthusiastically constructing the structure with couch cushions. “This is going to be legendary.”

Jannik surveyed the mess. “It’s going to collapse in ten minutes.”

“It’s about the journey, not the destination,” Carlos quipped, tucking a pillow into place.

Once complete, the three of them piled inside, flashlight in hand. Amara grinned up at her dads. “This is perfect.”

Jannik hummed. “It’s surprisingly stable.”

Carlos smirked. “See? I’m an architect at heart.”

Bedtime Stories and Debates

Bedtime was where Jannik’s precision met Carlos’ flair. Amara, comfortably snuggled between them, was always given a choice: a dramatic retelling from Carlos or a calm, precise one from Jannik.

Tonight, she had a request. “I want Papi to start and Dad to finish!”

Carlos gasped. “A mix?”

Jannik nodded approvingly. “She’s learning balance.”

Carlos started with wild voices and exaggerated expressions, making Amara laugh so hard she nearly fell off the bed. Then, Jannik seamlessly took over, smoothing out the details and giving it a satisfying conclusion.

As Amara’s eyes started to droop, Carlos kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, princesa.”

Jannik followed with a quiet, “Sleep well, Amara.”

As they turned off the light, Carlos whispered to Jannik, “She’s too smart for her own good.”

Jannik smirked. “She has to be. She has you as a father.”

Carlos nudged him playfully as they walked out. Another day, another series of tiny, perfect moments in their little world.

Suddenly had a CSI Jannik x Cop Carlos idea where they work with each other frequently because of cases and because of their professional behavior on site with each other no one knows that they’re married and adopted a baby girl.

[moralchampion]

Had the worst fucking dream ever and of course for the first time this year it is not already time to get up when I woke up from my dreams

[itsalwaysdark]

also im so sick of the acne like its so annoying and its such bullshit bc im not on t anymoreee i havent been for months so can we wrap it up I know my hormones r all over the place bc i was on and off t so willynilly for a while but now i have been off t for like. literally a year atp i think. so we should be settled and that means acne you may leave

[rafecameronssl4t]

Golf day || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: INSPIRED BY THIS TIKTOK

Warnings: pure fluff hehehehe

Word count: 497

A/n: if anyone has any tiktoks that they want me to turn into a Rafe fic, send them thru pls!!!! I love finding random vids on my fyp that are so Rafe coded. ALSO BEGGING FOR MORE DAD!RAFE REQUESTSS

MASTERLIST (dad!rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Do you think she’ll enjoy it?” Rafe questions, turning his head to you, his eyes lingering on Mabel, comfortably nestled on your lap. He looks genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know she loves watching you do anything,” you reply with a reassuring chuckle, trying to soothe his anxiety. As you adjust the tiny hat on your daughter’s head, you can’t help but smile at her innocent excitement.

It was Mabel’s first time at the golf course, and Rafe had been on edge all morning. He’d peppered you with questions like, “Don’t you think it will be too hot?” and “What if she gets bored?” His nervousness was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

You had spent the morning reassuring him, reminding him repeatedly that Mabel would be perfectly fine. You knew she would be thrilled just to watch her dad play golf, her eyes following his every move with awe and admiration.

“Do you think she’ll like this spot?” Rafe asks as the golf cart comes to a gentle stop under the shade of a large oak tree. “Babe, you’re the one playing,” you giggle, enjoying his overprotectiveness. Rafe laughs softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Mabel, do you like it here?” he asks, his voice tender as he tickles her chin. Mabel responds with a delightful giggle that melts your heart.

You adjust Mabel on your lap so she’s facing Rafe, her wide, curious eyes tracking his every move as he unloads his golf clubs. The sun casts a warm glow over the course, and you can’t help but admire how handsome Rafe looks in his golf gear. “Doesn’t Daddy look so handsome, Bels?” you murmur to Mabel, pressing light kisses on her rosy cheeks. She giggles uncontrollably and tickling sensation.

Rafe turns at the sound of her infectious giggles, a broad smile lighting up his face. “You girls doing alright?” he calls out, his eyes sparkling with joy. You chuckle, giving him a thumbs-up and lifting Mabel’s tiny hand to wave at him.

Remembering that Rose wanted a video of Mabel’s first time at the golf course, you quickly pull out your phone and aim the camera at Mabel’s expressive face. She’s watching Rafe intently, her anticipation palpable.

As Rafe lines up his shot, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The moment the club makes contact with the golf ball, sending it soaring through the air, Mabel flinches in surprise. You can’t help but laugh, immediately clamping your hand over your mouth, feeling a bit guilty for laughing at her reaction.

Rafe shields his eyes with his hand, squinting into the distance to see where the ball landed. Satisfied with his shot, he turns back and walks towards you and Mabel, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Daddy’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Rafe chuckles as he reaches you, gently lifting Mabel from under her armpits and pressing a loving kiss on her round cheek.

You quickly snap a photo of the sweet moment. Their joy is infectious, and you can’t help but chuckle as you send the video and picture to Rose. Mabel’s earlier reaction to the sound of Rafe hitting the ball plays in your mind, making you smile.

Rafe notices your amusement. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his curiosity piqued as he sees you smiling at your phone. You glance up, grinning, and show him the video of Mabel’s startled reaction to his golf swing.

“Aww, I’m sorry, babygirl,” Rafe says with a laugh, his eyes softening as he watches the video. “I’ll let you know when I’m going to hit the ball next time.” Mabel, already captivated by her dad’s presence, giggles and reaches out to touch his face, her earlier surprise forgotten.

Rafe’s heart melts as he cradles Mabel in his arms, swaying gently. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice filled with love. Mabel coos in response, her tiny hands grasping at Rafe’s shirt.