#km fic

[szariahwroteit]

Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 21

Since returning to Madrid the evening prior, Giselle felt as though she had been on a cloud, wholly lost in Kylian. She had barely looked at her phone, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind of messages and notifications awaited her. Each moment spent with Kylian was intoxicating, drawing her deeper into a realm of desire and connection.

It wasn't until the following morning, as Kylian prepared to head to training, that giselle discovered that Maurice wasn't done with his antics despite the distance between them.

As a well-known photographer in the fashion scene, he was known to post photo dumps, capturing and sharing snapshots of his work.

However, his most recent upload had caused a stir: a somewhat cryptic caption about love and fulfilling desires accompanied by a rather intimate picture he had taken of her for a brand she’d worked for.

The picture was intimate, showcasing Giselle as she posed nude in a bathtub filled with bubbles that covered her breasts and womanhood as she looked seductively into the camera. The picture hadn't made the final cut and, until now, sat dormant in a hard drive somewhere.

The moment Giselle's eyes fell upon the photo, her heart raced. The sultry glow of the image, though artistically captivating, felt like a violation of the trust she had placed in Maurice. What stung more was his decision to pair it with a caption that hinted at something deeper, something uninvited. It felt like he had taken a shared moment - one that should have remained intimate and private - and put it on display for everyone to see, twisting it into some grand declaration that was never meant to be.

Kylian glanced at her, reading the shift in her expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern etching itself into his features.

With trembling fingers, she scrolled down through the comments, each one a volley of confusion and intrigue from Maurice's followers, many latching on to the eroticism of the shot. They seemed enthralled, their excitement only amplifying her discomfort. She couldn't help but imagine what Kylian might think if he saw those words paired with that image. Would he view her differently? Would this crack the perfect bubble they had created?

“Maurice posted a picture he shot of me a while back…but the caption is rather suggestive,” she revealed, her cheeks warming as she turned her phone to show him the screen.

Kylian’s jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared as he took in the image. The intimacy of the photograph, combined with Maurice's provocative words, ignited a protective spark within him. Giselle watched as the subtle change in Kylian’s demeanor shifted from concern to a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Why would he post that?” Kylian asked, his voice low and edged with tension. “Did you know he was planning to post this?”

“Kylian, I don't know why he did that on Instagram; It's an outtake from a campaign we shot a while back. I told him when he confronted me in Nantes-,” Giselle said, unable to finish her sentence before Kylian stopped her mid-sentence.

“When he what?” he frowned, his eyes burning with anger as they met Giselle’s.

“While we were in Nantes, he asked me if I was sure I should be acting so committed to you if you aren't giving me the same and a bunch of other questions,” she revealed cautiously.

“Why didn't you tell me at the time?” Kylian asked his voice a low growl tinged with frustration. He took a step closer, the tension between them palpable, as if the air was charged with unspoken emotions.

“I didn't want to upset you,” Giselle said, her voice barely above a whisper. She could see the storm brewing in his eyes, a familiar fear creeping up her spine as she stepped back from him.

“A man that isn't me is flaunting you on his Instagram and confronting you about something that is none of his business; of course, I’ll be fucking upset,” Kylian spat, the words leaving his mouth souring his mood even more so.

“This is why I didn't say anything, Kylian! You're upset, and that's the last thing I wanted.” Giselle took a deep breath, trying to steady herself against the tidal wave of Kylian's emotions. She could feel the heat radiating off him, a mixture of jealousy, protectiveness, and anger.

“Of course I am fucking upset, you didn't come to me!” Kylian roared, startling Giselle, who instinctively took a step back as the unmistakable look of fear flashed in her eyes.

“Protecting myself is all I know,” Giselle said barely above a whisper as the tears that threatened to fall finally fell down her cheeks. She felt vulnerable under Kylian's intense scrutiny, the weight of his emotions pressing heavily against her chest.

Kylian's expression softened momentarily as he watched her tears spill over, the anger in his gaze dissipating like mis.

“It's been a while since I've been with someone I can depend on, someone I'm not scared of.” At that moment, Kylian came to a sobering realization.

This was a result of her ex, of the physical and mental abuse she suffered finally beginning to show its cracks. She had been given no choice but to learn how to protect herself, with an ex who took pleasure in doing the opposite.

Kylian felt sick with guilt as he thought about all the times she’d had to protect herself from far worse than someone comforting her about her decisions.

Placing a hand on her cheek, Kylian was unable to look into her eyes as his mind ran wild with thoughts of her past. “I have to leave for training,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt torn, caught between his commitment to his sport and the need to be there for Giselle in this moment of vulnerability. The torment in her eyes gnawed at him, a reminder that her battle wasn’t just with him but with shadows of her past that continued to haunt her.

"But Kylian..." Giselle started, reaching out for him, yearning for his touch, for reassurance that he wouldn’t leave her when she needed him the most. The fear of abandonment clawed at her, a familiar echo that brought back memories she wished to forget.

"I know," he interrupted gently, finally meeting her gaze, his own heart aching at the sight of her tears. "I just... I need to clear my head. I promise I’ll talk to you about this later." His thumb brushed gently against her cheek, wiping away her tears as he fought to maintain his composure.

Giselle nodded slowly, her heart heavy. She understood that training was compulsory for Kylian, but the thought of him leaving her in such an emotional state weighed heavily on her. The warmth of his hand against her cheek was a stark reminder of the connection they shared, even as she battled her fears and insecurities.

“Just promise me you won’t shut me out,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as the vulnerability in her heart made itself known. “I don't want you to be mad at me.”

Kylian’s brow furrowed at her words. “I promise we will talk later,” he affirmed, although the tension still hung between them.

With a heavy sigh, Kylian stepped back, the space between them feeling like a chasm. His heart ached as he turned to leave, leaving giselle alone in the kitchen as he made his way into the garage.

Giselle watched as he went, her eyes filling with tears as the reality of their argument settled in. She felt a mix of dread and longing as she thought about how deeply they had let each other in, only to be confronted by the shadows of her past and the fear clinging to her heart. Each footfall of Kylian's on the wooden floor echoed like a countdown to her anxiety, amplifying the emptiness that his departure left behind.

As the sound of the garage door closing faded into silence, Giselle leaned against the countertop, her fingers tracing the cool surface as if it could ground her. She was hyper-aware of the world around her—the way the sunlight streamed in through the window, the bitter scent of coffee lingering in the air—all these ordinary moments felt deeply contrasting to the turmoil within her.

The weight of her fears began to suffocate her, cruel whispers gnawing at the edges of her mind—what if he decided he no longer wanted this with her? What if her baggage was a little too heavy?

Taking a shaky breath, she wiped her tears and cheeks in a futile attempt to regain the composure she desperately craved. She couldn’t let herself fall too deep into despair. Kylian cared for her, even if they were in this tumultuous moment. They had shared laughter, intimacy, and dreams of a future, all shadowed by the emotional scars of her past that she was still learning to navigate.

Just then, Giselle's phone buzzed on the countertop, a welcome distraction. It was Camille who also wanted answers upon seeing the picture Maurice had posted on his Instagram.

Unlike Kylian, her curiosity wasn't laced with possession as she listened to Giselle recount the awkward confrontation that took place in Nantes, followed by his suggestive Instagram post.

“Have you spoken to Maurice?” Camille asked. “Or even Elise?”

“I haven't bothered to message Elise, but I did ask her brother to delete the post, he apologized and said he would before I blocked him,” Giselle explained.

“And Kylian's pissed at you?”

Giselle bit her lip, contemplating her next words as she felt a wave of emotion wash over her. "He's not just mad at me, Camille. He's hurt. He wouldn't even look at me when he left for training; he's disappointed.”

“Gi, I'm sure that's not the case. Disappointed is a strong word,” Camille replied softly, her tone shifting to one of gentle reassurance. "Kylian cares about you. This is all just a part of the emotional rollercoaster that comes with being with someone. He’s probably just processing everything, you know?”

Giselle sighed heavily, pressing her palm to her forehead as if to ward off the impending headache that followed her emotional turmoil. “I’m the problem, Camille; it’s one thing after another,” she said as she left the kitchen to head upstairs, bypassing Kylian's room and instead slipping into one of his guest rooms.

In the stillness of Kylian's guest room, Giselle sank onto the bed, the soft fabric cradling her as she felt the world's weight press down upon her. The room, filled with the faint scent of cedar and a hint of his cologne, wrapped around her like a warm embrace, yet it felt anything but comforting in her turmoil.

As she lay back on the pillows, her mind raced through the events of the day—Kylian's anger, her own vulnerability, and the questions that swirled like a storm in her heart. How did things escalate so quickly? Why did she always find herself caught in this web of fear and doubt?

She stared at the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the plaster with her eyes, trying to anchor herself in the present, to silence the nagging voice that suggested she wasn't worthy of Kylian's love. The intimacy they'd shared, the laughter, and those fleeting moments of joy felt distant now, overshadowed by the weight of her past and the fear that history might repeat itself.

It was then that the oppressive silence of the room became too much to bear. She buried herself under the comforter, shutting her sore eyes and willing herself to sleep.

Over at Real Madrid’s training grounds, Kylian was moving through his usual routine, but everything felt different. The drills and exercises blurred into a haze as his mind replayed the conversation with Giselle over and over again. Every word, every emotional crack in her voice echoed in his skull like a drumbeat, drowning out the shouts of his teammates and the whistle of the coach.

Kylian's feet moved automatically, but his mind was miles away, fixated on the hurt that had flashed across Giselle's face when he raised his voice. He had never intended to make her cry; she was too precious to him for that. The thought gnawed at him like a festering wound, one he couldn't seem to heal.

It wasn't the picture of her that Maurice posted or even the confrontation between him and Giselle that had fueled his anger; it was a mix of jealousy, possession, the overwhelming desire to protect her, and the fact that instead of coming to him, she chose to face him alone.

The tension was thick in the air as Kylian tried to focus on the training exercises, but his heart wasn’t in it. Each practice drill turned into an exercise in futility as his thoughts continuously circled back to Giselle's tears and the sorrowful way her eyes had looked at him. He could still feel the weight of her pain, and it gnawed at him, distracting him from the sprinting, the passes, the goals.

Before setting off for training earlier, he’d called to arrange having flowers dropped off at his place for her. The gesture an olive branch to let her know that despite the tension that hung between them, he cared for her deeply.

Kylian knew Giselle well enough to know that she was more than likely back at his place, blaming herself for the situation when, in reality, she didn't need to.

All he wanted was for her to need him, to understand that he was who she could turn to when life threatened to overwhelm her. The thought of her feeling alone in her struggle sent another wave of frustration coursing through him. He couldn’t shake the image of her tears from his mind or the pain he'd inadvertently caused by not being more patient—by not offering the reassurance she needed in that crucial moment.

As practice droned on, Kylian found himself channeling that swirling mix of emotions, pushing his body harder, shooting the ball with greater force as a way to expel the tempest of frustration and guilt that plagued him. But with each strike against the ball, there was an accompanying ache in his heart, knowing that it wasn’t just the training that was suffering; it was their relationship teetering on the edge of misunderstanding.

“Hey,” Marco said, jogging over after practice, the sweat glistening on his brow. “You okay? You were out there like a man possessed.”

Kylian glanced at him, catching his breath. “I'm good,” he mumbled, though the words felt heavy and insincere on his tongue. He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Marco wasn’t buying it, but it was evident that his teammate didn't want to speak about whatever plagued him.

In the confines of Kylian's guest room, Giselle stirred from her sleep to the sound of the doorbell ringing through the house.

Startled awake, Giselle blinked against the sunlight spilling through the window, confusion clouding her mind as she struggled to gather her bearings. The dreamy remnants of her sleep faded away, replaced by a gnawing anxiety that wrapped around her heart like a vice.

Her first thought was of Kylian. What if he had decided to come back and talk things over? Warmth surged through her at the possibility, but was quickly extinguished by the reminder of their earlier confrontation. No, he may not want to see her yet.

She glanced at her phone on the nightstand—no missed calls, no messages. The doorbell chimed again, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. With a deep breath to steady herself, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool floor beneath her feet as she padded down the hallway toward the entrance.

She hesitated as she reached the door, her heart racing at the thought of whoever stood on the other side.

Pulling it open, Giselle's heart skipped a beat as she saw a delivery man carry two large bouquets of roses, one pink and the other deep red.

“Are you Giselle?” the delivery man asked, a friendly smile on his face.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in the sight of the flowers.

“Delivery from Kylian Mbappé,” he announced, handing her the bouquets. The sweet scent of the roses wafted through the air, filling her lungs with a mixture of joy and confusion.

“Thank you,” Giselle managed, stepping aside to let the man leave. She closed the door, feeling the weight of the flowers' presence as she cradled them against her chest.

Kylian had sent her flowers.

She picked up the pink bouquet first, gently trailing her fingers along the delicate petals. There was something so thoughtful in this gesture, something that tugged at the corners of her heart. It felt like a bridge being built, a way to reconnect after their painful confrontation.

Setting the bouquets on the one coffee table in his living room, she arranged them in their vases, her mind still swirling with thoughts of Kylian. The way his anger dissolved when he saw her tears, the overwhelming urge to protect her while battling his own demons, and the gentle touch of his thumb brushing away her sadness.

What had begun as an argument now seemed to transform into something more potent—a deepening bond forged by pain, understanding, hope, and a desire for healing. Kylian’s actions were a silent promise that he would not turn away from her and that despite the weight of her problems, he wanted to be there for her.

She caught sight of her reflection in the window, her eyes still red from crying and a few hours of sleep. With a soft sigh, she headed upstairs to splash her face with cold water, trying to erase the remnants of her earlier distress. As she stared into the mirror, she took a moment to collect herself.

With each splash of cold water, the fog of anxiety began to lift, revealing clarity in its place. The memories washed over her—the warmth of Kylian's touch, the way he looked when he talked about his dreams with her, and the laughter they shared. They reminded her of what they were fighting for: the potential of a future that held promise, love, and connection.

After drying her face, Giselle returned to the living room, feeling the soft petals of the roses brush against her fingertips. The pink roses symbolized admiration, gratitude, and grace—qualities she desperately needed to remember in herself. The deep red ones spoke of passion and desire, qualities she knew Kylian felt for her, even when the unforgiving voice in the back of her mind told her otherwise.

Giselle wasn't sure how much time had passed as she sat lost in her thoughts, the sound of Kylian’s sluggish footsteps pulling her from her reverie. The door creaked open as he stepped inside the living room, his expression a mix of resolve and uncertainty. His eyes scan the room before landing on her.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that filled the space between them.

“Hey,” she replied, her heart racing as she met his gaze. The tension that had defined their earlier exchange hung thick in the air. Giselle’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her top, a nervous habit that had resurfaced with all the emotions swirling around them.

Kylian's gaze flickered to the flowers on the coffee table, the sight of them bringing a subtle shift in his demeanor. “I—I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability. He took a step closer, the space between them collapsing slightly. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I should have handled it differently.”

“Thank you,” Giselle managed, her voice barely above a whisper as she felt tears forming in her eyes once more. “And I'm sorry I didn't come to you about Maurice while we were in Nantes.”

“Giselle, I want you. I want to protect you, but I don't know how if you won't let me,” Kylian said, his voice softening as he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them. His eyes held an intensity that made her heart flutter, a mix of passion and vulnerability.

“It's hard for me,” Giselle admitted, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I’ve spent so long learning to shield myself, to protect my heart. It's difficult to let someone in, especially after everything...”

Kylian reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek, prompting her to meet his gaze fully. “I get it,” he affirmed quietly, his thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting caress. “I really do. But I want to be there for you, to fight side by side with you, not against you. You’re not alone in this.”

His words wrapped around her heart like a warm embrace, igniting a flicker of hope as she searched his eyes for sincerity. “I don’t want to push you away, Kylian. I just don’t know how to break down these walls,” she confessed.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he replied, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t expect you to have it all figured out overnight. I’m right here, ready to take it one step at a time with you.”

With a shaky breath, Giselle nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and vulnerability swirling within her. The warmth of his hand on her cheek had a grounding effect, reminding her of the safety and affection that lay within their connection.

“Can we start over?” she whispered, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I want to rebuild what we had, to find our way back to each other.”

Kylian’s gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Of course. Just promise me you’ll always come to me, no matter how hard it feels. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore,” he said earnestly.

“I promise,” Giselle replied, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I’ll try my best.”

“That is all I ask,” Kylian said, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. The world around them faded into the background, leaving only the connection they shared—the unbreakable bond forged in the fires of vulnerability and understanding.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. The spark of hope flickered in his gaze, a silent promise that this time would be different.

Giselle felt a smile break through her earlier worries, lighting up her expression. “I would love that,” she replied, her heart racing in anticipation. “It sounds perfect.”

Kylian’s features relaxed, the tension that had plagued them both slowly dissipating as a sense of relief washed over him. “Great. A car will be here later to collect us, have you eaten something today?” he asked.

“I did,” Giselle said, her response only half a lie as she couldn't bring herself to eat the fruit she had prepared for herself.

Although their previous argument was based around jealously and telling the truth, she couldn't bring herself to reveal she’s spent most of the time he was at training crying.

Instead, she focused on the small victories—the warmth of his hand against her skin, the hope blooming between them. Kylian, sensing her hesitation, decided to embrace the present moment rather than linger on the discussion of their past.

“Alright, then,” he said, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “What do you want to wear? I want you to feel beautiful tonight.”

Giselle felt her heart flutter at his words. “I don’t know… Something casual, I guess?” she replied, a shy smile creeping onto her lips.

“Casual?” Kylian teased, his brow raised. “I want you in a dress and heels.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, the air between them still slightly tense as they both navigated the remnants of their earlier conversation.

Kylian’s smile widened, and in that moment, she could see the boyish charm that had first drawn her to him. “You could wear anything, and you’d still look stunning,” he replied, his voice warm.

Giselle felt a blush creeping across her cheeks at his compliment, and for the first time that day, she dared to believe that everything would be okay. “Okay, I’ll wear a dress then,” she said with newfound determination. The prospect of dinner suddenly felt exciting rather than daunting.

As Kylian stepped back, the gentle touch lingering on her cheek brought a swirling mix of gratitude and anticipation. “I’ll give you some space to get ready,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But just know that I can’t wait to see you.”

“Neither can I,” Giselle replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of their dinner together, the potential to further rebuild their connection.

Kylian flashed her a supportive smile before heading back toward the door, but he paused just before stepping outside. “One last thing,” he said, a serious note creeping back into his voice. “Remember, no more hiding things from me. We’re in this together, alright?”

Giselle nodded, feeling the weight of his words resonate deeply within her. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, before stepping away from her so he could head upstairs and offload his belongings.

Giselle felt secure as far as kylian went, but the sobering fact that she was the problem still lingered

in her mind.

The fact that if they were to come to ruin it wouldn't be because of outside influence, or Kylian or even the demand of their careers. It would be because of her fear and the unresolved shadows of the past that clung to her like a heavy cloak.

As she busied herself with finding the perfect dress, Giselle couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts. Each delicate fabric she touched felt like a reminder that she needed to confront her fears head-on. More than just to be in a relationship with Kylian, she needed to understand herself—her worth, her fears, how her past shaped who she was and how to break the cycle.

With a determined heart, she rummaged through her suitcases, abandoning her usual go-to selections for something that felt more like her—a gesture of self-love and acceptance. She pulled out a soft, figure-hugging black dress. Designed to accentuate her curves without being overly revealing, it felt both elegant and comfortable. She paired it with strappy heels that would give her a little height, a boost of confidence she desperately needed as she prepared for their dinner.

By 6:30, Kylian stood patiently in his foyer, waiting for Giselle, who he noticed had moved into one of his guest bedrooms—a fact he would address later.

He heard the click of her heels before he caught sight of her. The moment he laid eyes on her, the breath caught in his throat. The black dress hugged her frame perfectly, accentuating her curves in a way that made his heart race. The simple elegance of her attire, paired with her radiant smile, erased any remnants of tension from earlier, leaving nothing but wonder and affection in its wake.

“Wow,” he breathed, unable to hide the admiration in his gaze. “You look stunning.”

Giselle blushed under the intensity of his gaze, a shy smile spreading across her lips as she shifted her weight, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself,” she teased, nodding toward and tailored pants and the rich cashmere sweater he wore.

Kylian chuckled softly, his demeanor visibly lighter as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “I had to make sure I looked good enough to take you out,” he replied, the playful banter easing them both into a more comfortable space.

As they stood together, the air shifted, filled with an unspoken promise of connection and understanding.

“I don't know, you look really handsome when you're dressed up, but I think my favorite might be you on match days,” Giselle smirked, feeling slightly shy under Kylian's gaze.

Kylian grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, is that so? I’ll have to keep that in mind and wear my jersey more often.”

Giselle laughed softly, the sound lightening the mood surrounding them. It felt good to share this moment, to let their playful banter weave through the remnants of their earlier tensions. But underneath her laughter, a current of apprehension still lingered, the echoes of her past whispering caution as she stepped into the unknown.

“Are you ready?” Kylian asked, his tone shifting to one of earnest curiosity, a subtle reminder that they still had unresolved feelings to navigate.

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, determination shining in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

Kylian’s smile widened, his heart buoyed by her willingness to move forward together. He took her hand gently, entwining their fingers as they headed out to the car that waited outside.

As they settled into the backseat, Giselle felt a warmth envelop her, a sense of safety out in the world with him that she had yearned for. The driver navigated through the streets of Madrid.

The cityscape unfolded around them like a cinematic dream, vibrant and full of life. Lights began to twinkle as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets. Giselle leaned her head against the window, watching as the familiar streets transformed into a magical backdrop; each turn ignited a sense of anticipation fluttering in her chest.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, turning her gaze to Kylian, who wore an enigmatic smile.

“Just wait and see,” he replied, his playful tone igniting a spark of curiosity within her. “Trust me, it’s going to be perfect.”

As the driver pulled into a narrow street, Giselle was intrigued by the hidden charm of the area. Surrounded by quaint cafes and boutique shops, the ambiance felt intimate and inviting. They finally arrived at a stunning rooftop restaurant, its elegant entrance framed by lush greenery and glittering fairy lights.

The driver opened the door, and as Kylian stepped out, he extended his hand to help Giselle from the car. “Are you ready for the best dinner of your life?” he asked, his gaze twinkling with excitement.

Giselle chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Now I am!” she replied, feeling alive in the moment as she took his hand, their fingers intertwining as they made their way inside.

As they stepped onto the rooftop, Giselle gasped in awe. The restaurant was perched high above the city, offering breathtaking views of Madrid's skyline. The twinkling city lights sparkled like stars in the twilight, a stunning backdrop that enhanced the enchanting atmosphere. The tables were adorned with soft candlelight and exquisitely arranged flowers, creating a romantic oasis amid the bustling city below.

Kylian guided her to a private table, nestled in a corner overlooking the stunning panorama. In the soft glow of the candles, Giselle could see his eyes filled with earnestness as they sat down.

“I wanted tonight to be special,” Kylian said, his voice sincere. “I needed a place where we could just be together, away from everything else.”

“Thank you. This is breathtaking,” Giselle breathed, her heart swelling with appreciation. The ambiance, coupled with Kylian’s presence, felt more intimate than any glamorous venue could offer.

As they settled into their evening, a server approached with a menu, but Kylian waved a hand. “We’ll have a bottle of your finest white wine,” he stated confidently, earning an approving nod from the server.

With the wine served and poured, and their meals ordered a comfortable silence enveloped them for a moment, allowing them to take in the beauty of the setting and the gravity of the moment.

“Giselle,” Kylian said softly, breaking the silence as his gaze held hers. “I hope you know that what happened earlier or whatever any posts doesn't change how I feel about you. I want to support you, and I want to understand you.”

“I know,” she replied, feeling her heart flutter at his words. “I appreciate you being so understanding. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

“It’s just… I hate the thought of you feeling alone in any of this. I want to be your partner, in every sense, and I’d like to think you can lean on me,” he confessed, his vulnerability shining through.

Giselle nodded, her heart swelling with warmth. “I want that too. I’m just learning how to navigate my feelings and fears. Being with you makes it easier, but I know that I still have things to get over for myself.”

The server returned, presenting their first course, a beautifully plated dish that smelled divine. They shared their meals, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses as they enjoyed the delicious offerings. Each bite was exquisite, celebrated by shared smiles and soft teasing reminiscent of the playful comfort they once knew.

As the evening unfolded, their conversation deepened, ranging from their dreams to the trivial moments of their day-to-day lives. The natural ebb and flow of their dialogue filled the air with warmth, reassuring each other that they could trust in this moment.

With dessert on the table—a decadent chocolate mousse—the sun had fully set, and the stars twinkled overhead like tiny beacons of hope. The world below felt distant, and it was just the two of them, cocooned in this intimate space.

“This is the last thing I expected during my visit to Paris for Elise and Juels’ engagement weekend,” Giselle smiled softly as she looked at their joined hands resting leisurely in the middle of the circular dining table.

“Are you happy?” Kylian asked, causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. He leaned closer, his intense gaze fixed on her, searching for an answer beyond words.

Giselle took a moment to gather her thoughts, the ambiance of the room. The warmth emanating from Kylian sent a shiver down her spine, both thrilling and terrifying.

“I am happy,” she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper, yet resolute. The truth lingered in the air like the intoxicating aroma of fine wine that filled the room. “You make me happy.”

Kylian's lips curled into a slow smile, one that ignited a spark of excitement in Giselle's heart. “Good,” he murmured, his voice smooth like the velvet drapes framing the window. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her hand, sending electricity coursing through her veins. “Because you make me feel the same.”

She inhaled sharply, the implication of his words wrapping around her like a warm embrace. The intimate atmosphere of the dimly lit room, the soft clinking of glasses and distant laughter from the other guests, faded into the background. It was just the two of them, suspended in a moment that felt both dangerous and enticing.

“Good,” Giselle blushed, her breath hitching. She could feel her cheeks warming as Kylian held her gaze, his eyes shining with a mixture of confidence and longing.

“I meant what I said in Nantes about wanting you to be my girlfriend,” he leaned in closer, his voice low and inviting, “I want to be the only man you look to when you need someone to make you smile, to lean on when you're feeling vulnerable.”

Giselle's heart raced at his declaration. The gravity of Kylian's words hung in the air, making her pulse quicken with a blend of desire and apprehension.

“You are,” she confessed, the truth spilling from her lips like wine from a fine bottle—rich and intoxicating.

They returned to Kylian's house later that night, a sense of warmth enveloping them in the quiet aftermath of their dinner. The atmosphere was charged with unspoken words and shared glances, a comfortable intimacy settling between them like a soft blanket.

After their first real argument knew better than to spiral back into doubt. The shadows of Kylian's earlier anger felt distant as they entered the living space, and Giselle was acutely aware of the gentle thrum of excitement coursing through her veins.

Kylian stepped inside first, holding the door open for her with a small, casual grin that hinted at mischief. “Welcome back,” he said playfully, the warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the tension of their previous days.

Giselle smiled back, a spark of joy igniting at the sight of him. The lingering aftertaste of their dinner—the laughter, the shared stories, the unguarded glances—chased away the shadows that had threatened to haunt her heart. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm as she stepped over the threshold.

Kylian followed closely behind, his presence enveloping her like a safe haven. “I had a great time,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice making her feel cherished. He took a step closer, the warmth radiating between them like the flickering flame of a candle, illuminating the way forward.

In that intimate moment, Giselle’s pulse quickened as Kylian’s gaze deepened. She felt an unmistakable connection—a magnetic pull that felt both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity.

“Kylian,” she began, her voice catching slightly in her throat. “I—”

Before she could finish her sentence, his hand gently cupped her cheek, tilting her head upward, his thumb brushing against her skin with an affectionate caress. She felt her heart race as he leaned in closer, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice low and tender, like a lover’s whisper cloaked in desire.

Giselle’s heart swelled at his words—the very embodiment of respect wrapped in passion. She nodded, unable to find her voice, losing herself in the depths of his gaze as she leaned in closer, closing the distance.

His lips brushed against hers softly, a tantalizing mix of expectations and shyness. It was a gentle kiss, an exploration that felt delicate yet consuming, igniting a fire within her that had laid dormant for too long.

With each brush of his lips against hers, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, as if they both sought to convey all the unspoken emotions that had haunted them. The world faded away, no longer filled with anxieties or fears, just them and the promise that lingered in the night air.

As he pulled her closer, their bodies melded together, creating a warmth that was intoxicating. Giselle’s fingertips grazed the nape of his neck, entwining themselves in his hair as she surrendered to the moment—every worry forgotten, if only for now.

Kylian’s hands roamed down her waist, anchoring her against him as he deepened the kiss. And she couldn’t help but melt into him, the intoxicating blend of longing and familiarity washing over her like a tidal wave.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, they finally pulled apart, breathless and slightly dazed, gazing at each other with wide eyes filled with newfound emotion.

“You have no idea, I have been dying to kiss you since this morning,” Kylian murmured, a playful grin lighting up his face, causing her heart to flutter.

Giselle chuckled lightly, her cheeks glowing. “I wouldn't have stopped you,” she admitted, her words spilling out in a rush as the thrill of their kiss still lingered between them.

“Not after making you cry,” Kylian replied, his expression softening. “I wanted to make things right. You deserve to feel cherished, to feel everything but pain.”

Giselle’s heart ached at his sincerity. It was true; the emotional turbulence of the past few days had weighed heavily on her, leaving scars she thought would linger. Yet here, wrapped in Kylian’s warmth, there was hope—a promise that maybe things could be different.

“I... I’m starting to realize that,” she replied softly, her fingers still brushing through his hair, grounding herself in the reality of this moment with him.

Kylian’s gaze held hers, searching for understanding, for connection. “I know it’s been tough, but I want to be here for you. I am here for you.”

His words resonated with her, echoing the thoughts she hadn’t yet put into words. She took a deep breath; the air between them charged with emotion, filled with unvoiced desires.

Giselle felt a warmth spread through her as she absorbed his sincerity. "You have no idea how much that means to me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. There was something about Kylian that made her feel safe, as if the shadows of her past could be banished by the light of his presence.

He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting the flickering light—a blend of passion and genuine care. "I want to explore this connection," he said, his voice wrapping around her like a soft embrace. "But only if you're ready."

The tension in the air crackled with possibility, and Giselle could feel the weight of their unspoken desires pressing against her heart. “I am,” she breathed, her heart racing at the thought of exploring this newfound intimacy. The idea of sharing more than just kisses—a deeper connection that transcended the physical—thrilled her.

With a gentle but firm hand, Kylian guided her towards the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp created an inviting atmosphere. He settled onto the couch, pulling her down beside him, their elbows brushing together, sending shivers up her spine. The proximity ignited a fire within her, and she found herself leaning into him, seeking that warmth that made her feel alive.

Kylian turned to her, his expression serious but softened by the curve of his lips. "Tell me what you want, Giselle."

The question hung heavy in the air, filled with implications. Giselle’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing as she considered his words. She wanted to feel seen, cherished, and desired. But more than that, she wanted to explore the depths of what was blossoming between them—an intimacy that felt like a long-overdue reunion.

"I want to feel everything with you," she finally said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I want to lose myself in this moment, in you, and forget about everything else.”

His gaze darkened with desire, and he leaned closer, catching her gaze with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

With that, he cupped her face in his hands again, and as he leaned in for another kiss, it was no longer tentative or shy. This time, their lips collided with urgency, a fierce hunger that reflected the passion swirling in their hearts. Kylian's hands trailed down her arms, igniting every inch of her skin he touched, sending tingles that sparked a deeper longing.

Giselle responded instinctively, her hands roaming over his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath her fingertips. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of exploration, their mouths moving together in a perfect rhythm that spoke of desire and promise.

As they lost themselves in each other, Giselle felt barriers crumble within her. The warmth of Kylian’s body encased her like a cocoon, and in that moment, she dared to believe in the beauty of vulnerability—the kind that comes when two souls intersect, fragile yet fierce.

Kylian’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she melted against him, letting go of her fears and doubts. In the embrace, there was solace; in the kiss, there was a promise of something more—a future entwined in passion, trust, and lingering devotion.

It wasn't before long Giselle was lost entirely in pleasure, her eyes glossed over with tears as she held Kylian's gaze as he feasted on her pussy, the dress she wore slung carelessly over the back of sofa.

Giselle let out a soft moan as Kylian's tongue circled her sensitive clit, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him closer as she arched her back, desperate for more , creating an intimate atmosphere that felt both alluring and slightly sinful.

"Oh, Kylian..." she breathed, her voice trembling with a tangle of pleasure and raw emotion. His name sounded like a prayer on her lips, a silent plea for him to never stop, to never leave her side. In this moment, wrapped up in the heat of their shared passion.

Kylian's hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as his tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of her most intimate places.

Giselle's breath hitched as Kylian's masterful tongue delved even deeper, probing her wet entrance with a hunger that ignited every nerve ending. Her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. "Yes, right there," she gasped, her voice a blend of plea and praise.

Kylian groaned softly against her wet flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her core. His hands slid up her thighs, his roughened fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. He gripped her ass, pulling her closer, devouring her like a man starved.

Giselle's head fell back against the couch, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. The room spun, the world narrowing to the point where Kylian's mouth met her body. She could feel the heat building low in her belly, the telltale signs of an impending climax threatening to consume her.

Giselle's moans grew louder and more urgent as Kylian's tongue worked its magic, flicking and circling her sensitive nub with expert precision. She could feel her inner muscles contracting, tightening around nothing as her orgasm built, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment. "Kylian, I'm so close," she whimpered, her hips grinding against his face, seeking that final push over the edge.

Kylian hummed his approval, the sound vibrating against her most intimate flesh and sending shockwaves of ecstasy through her body. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that made her eyes roll back. Giselle cried out, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair as she rode his face with abandon, chasing her release, as her body tensed, every muscle pulled taut.

With a final cry of ecstasy, Giselle shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her inner walls fluttered around Kylian's fingers as he continued to stroke her through her climax, prolonging the intense sensations that radiated from her core.

"Kylian!" she gasped, her voice raw with passion. She could feel her juices dripping down his chin as he lapped at her, not wasting a single drop of her essence. The sight of him, so devoted to her pleasure, only heightened her arousal even further.

As the aftershocks subsided, Giselle collapsed back against the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Kylian crawled up her body, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of satisfaction. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

“My beautiful girlfriend,” he murmured against her lips. Giselle's heart raced as she processed his words, the weight of that title settling inside her like a warm embrace. The thrill of being called his girlfriend ignited something deep within her, a sense of belonging and connection that made her feel cherished in every sense.

“Girlfriend,” she repeated softly, the word rolling off her tongue with a mix of delight and disbelief. There was an intoxicating thrill in the newness of it, a promise of all the adventures that lay ahead. She pulled away slightly to meet his gaze, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I never thought I would get here with you.”

Kylian smiled, his thumb gently brushing across her cheek, wiping away the remnants of their passion. “Neither did I, but here we are. You make me want things I didn’t know I needed.”

[epiphainie]

cherry bomb (1/1)

aka engine purr pt2

bucktommy, mechanic au, age gap, dom tommy, sub buck, degradation, humiliation, slut-shaming, dirty talk, riding, biting, spanking, frottage, daddy kink, under-negotiated kink, semi-public sex, jealousy

rating: E

words: 20k

summary:

“I told you, I’m fine,” came louder this time. “Just need help getting out.” Chimney frowned. “Wait…” Buck pulled down a bunch of needles from the crushed hood. “...I know that voice.” “Sit tight, sir, we’re working on it.” “Hen.” Chimney rapped her arm. “You know that voice.” There was a big frond obscuring the windshield. Buck pulled at it next. The motion brought down all the rest of the branches and the needles over the left side of the truck, a heap of foliage sliding down with sound. Dropping the rake and dusting off his hands, Buck stepped away. His eyes came up at the cracked glass and followed the path of jagged lines to the driver. He went still. Hen and Chimney’s voices echoed one another, the name said a little incredulous, a little curious. Quieter under all that, Buck heard his own whisper, “Tommy.”

new year's eve, the 118 responds to a call; buck comes across someone he told himself to forget about months ago

read on AO3

[spacebabesuki]

[berrystarkey]

I don 't know why people are in a frenzy now over what's speculated to be Drew and Odessa under that umbrella in Aaron's photo dump; if you all read the room, it was apparent they were more than platonic from the jump, especially if they were seen exiting the same hotel in Paris back in January . Many people wanna insinuate that O is a lesbian who has a girlfriend . I guess them thinking it's Quen Blackwell or maybe Billie Eilish, but Quen said 2 years ago that Odessa had a boyfriend on a podcast . She mentionedhow her and O would go on double dates ,and how she was in love. During those times , O was seen with Drew a lot . Ifshe was in a relationship with someone else , why would that believed - to - be partner let Odessa share clothes with Drew , fly internationally just to see him ,and have no other friends involved , and be okay with that ? Wouldn't Drew deny the British Vogue article or Daily Mail one mentioning how him and O were in a relationship ? His own cousin was commenting on a TikTok video , claiming he had a girlfriend . This was the same cousin that was with him in Charleston at the obx4 premiere . Some little girl who was at the Tribeca Film Festival during O's premiere of Fresh Kills that O even follows claimed that O referred to Drew as her boyfriend . O doesn't treat Drew just like one of the guys . Although she may emasculate him and embarrass him ,they're emotionally attached to eachother and at the hip . It worked for them this long to never confirm them being together , otherwise they get more hate ,even worse than the backlash they received from Aaron's photo dump.Because Drew fans would crash out worse than Rudison fans when it comes to Rudy and Elaine . There were already fans threatening to unstan because of the umbrella photo . Drew deleted all traces of O off his page and turned off tags at a point because there were hate pages doxxing his family , sending him death threats , and going too far . Thosepeople make it unbearable for him to feel confident going through fully coming out and admitting what O is to him . He is hypersensitive and doesn 't know how to stand up for himself . O is pathetic to be okay with not having a title , and being allover him, or vice versa . It 's been going on for 4 years now . He 's living in Odessa's old apartment with Jesse . Shedrives his car . They share a Pomeranian dog , and all her friends have become his, and his have become hers . Drew isn't coming off Odessa no matter how bad she plays in his face , embarrassing him ,showing up to his . Premiere looking like a hobo and thenhaving to sneak into restaurants through the back door , or not be visible in public. Zero PDA . They are a shit show . Sheis still pursuing other women like Billie and Manon , and flirty with Quen . He isstill on Raya and following sex workers .These people are flawed and have faults the public may not see . People are so disillusioned with this fantasy . He 's Prince Charming when he's going out like a cuckold.

yall just read this because honestly it left me speachless. applaud this anon because they said it ALL. anon ily you explain lowk everything perfectly

[ellierium]

꩜.𖥔 ˖ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ (ɢɪᴠɪɴ' ᴜᴘ). [ᴇ.ᴡ. & ᴀ.ᴀ.]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.

A ROUTINE patrol goes wrong for our friendly neighborhood spider-woman! who can she rely on in this time of need? our favorite human-host and alien-symbiote duo, of course!

pairing: modern!venom!abby anderson x modern!spider-woman!ellie williams tags: frenemies (?) to lovers, comedy, ellie williams is a bad spiderman, abby anderson is a worse venom, physical hurt/comfort, symbiote healing, blood, slight gore. mdni. a/n: um. is this too niche? i used to write for spider-verse... and i am just a girl i fear. I'll probably post this on ao3 as well. have fun! ⸺ℰ word count: 1.4k

Ellie’s desperate, she knows that. 

Really, she does.

She's not entirely sure what comes over her. Not sure what possesses her to swing her way to Abby Anderson’s apartment in goddamn Hell’s Kitchen, not sure what has her colliding with the wall unceremoniously because of course she stumbles. Maybe it’s the piece of scrap metal stuck in her side. Honestly, she's not even sure if Abby is home.

So, she knocks. 

This really isn’t her best idea. She has a lot of those, but this is definitely one of the worst ones. She thinks she knows what she wants – she wants Abby to force her to go to the hospital and see a doctor. 

But she knows what she really wants is for Abby to fix her up herself. She wants Abby to joke around with her, try to make her laugh to distract her from the blood she's losing. That’s all a maybe, though– it’s if she lets herself really yearn. 

She stands there in her shredded suit and a stretched-out t-shirt she snatched from a street vendor, waiting for Abby to answer the door. She thinks she looks weird. She knows she looks insane.

She doesn’t have to wait too long– never really does if Abby can help it– but she's not expecting what greets her. She thought Abby would answer the door with that usual Abby Anderson charm – or lack thereof – that lazy smirk on her face because she’s so smug and thinks she’s right all the time. The stormy blue eyes and a sarcastic greeting on her tongue that Ellie wants to kiss her for. She thought she’d be – content, to say the least.

Instead, Abby is standing unnervingly still. Her eyes are dark and her eyebrows are furrowed, her lips are turned down in a frown, and Ellie realizes she has a peep-hole way too late. She's still relieved to see her, just a little bit, anyway. Her lips just barely turn up. “Abby,” she breathes, “I didn’t– Know where to go–”

She's lying. She knew where to go. But she also knew she wouldn’t be able to go out again if Maria and Tommy ever found out that she got beat this bad. Maria would make her life infinitely more difficult than it already is and Tommy would make sure she could never wear the suit again, and she would die, probably, if she spent that much time away from it all.

And fuck, actually, if she wasn’t a little afraid that she could be dying – Abby isn’t a surgeon, can’t possibly take this thing out of her side, but she doesn’t want to go to a hospital, can’t possibly go home on her own. She can’t do anything but feel all this pain, but Abby’s hands are soft where they hold her arms. Abby’s hands are soft and clean and have no blood on them – not yet, anyway, not until Ellie walks into her home. Then the whole place is coated in the stuff – drippy and dark and disgusting– and Ellie just keeps painting the walls with it. 

She blinks as she's guided to Abby’s dining table– God, if I don’t die, I gotta remember to hit up IKEA– 

“Ellie, what the fuck?” She hears Abby’s frantic voice, low and not at all happy– it makes Ellie nauseous, or maybe it's the blood loss, she's not entirely sure, but blood dribbles out of her mouth anyway.

She groans, letting out half-sobs as Abby gently lays her down. Tears well in her eyes– not because of the pain, no– the care. Abby handles her like she's made of glass, and she's not so sure that she isn’t. She honestly doesn’t know what she's made out of– maybe bits and pieces of everyone she's ever known– maybe nothing in particular.

“What the hell happened?” She's asking, and God, Ellie doesn’t fuckin’ know. Doesn’t know a damn thing except that she webbed up that asshole mugger to the side of the closest NYPD precinct, that the scrap metal in her side knocked the wind out of her, that she had to fumble with her webs and blink the spots out of her eyes to make sure she was swinging in the right direction. She barely thought of where to go, just knew that her dear frenemy Abigail Anderson lived on the corner of 10th Ave and W 49th.

The spots are back, her breath is getting shallow, and she’s a little scared. Her hands clench Abby’s wrists.

“Abs–” 

“I’m here,” Abby says, soft and sure above her. Ellie watches her, but Abby’s focused on the wound in her side, on the way the skin keeps trying to heal but then it's ripped open again, a never ending loop of heal, break, heal, break.

“V, help her.” 

Help her, not help me, because she doesn’t need it. Abby’s Symbiote to the rescue, and Ellie’s shivering as he coats her skin. Abby’s there, too, underneath it all – embedded into Venom the way he’s embedded into her. They can’t be apart, and the thought of Abby sticking to her skin makes her warm. She shudders.

“Didn’t puncture anything major,” Abby says, and her eyes glaze over white. Venom blinks down at her once, then again, before Abby’s blue-grey eyes come back to comfort her.

Venom doesn’t say much, makes no sound except for the occasional hum. The goo is sticky, cold and then warm, and she feels their heartbeat against her sternum. It’s soothing, but the pain is getting to her. She can feel Venom seep under her skin, can feel him-her-them rummaging and moving around her organs to isolate the area. The worst part is when Abby pulls the fucking metal out of her side. She cries out, breath wobbly from the blinding pain that tears through skin and muscle. Might as well go straight to the bone, too.

She can barely breathe, can’t really think, but Abby looks like she's crying. Ellie just can’t have that.

“Knew you never– fuck–” She coughs, spits blood right into her own shoulder, doesn't want to stain anything else red, “–never liked me.” 

It makes Abby laugh, just barely, but it sounds more like she's trying not to choke on her breaths. Her hand rests on Ellie’s chest, where her heart beats, a little too quickly, but it’s fine. At least it’s beating. They sit and breathe and cry— Abby’s hands are still soft on her chest, Ellie’s head is still pounding. When she looks down, both of their hands are covered in blood. It makes her warm for some reason. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Abby asks after a few minutes, maybe an hour, maybe more. Ellie sighs, coughs again. The wound is tender, but there's no blood in her mouth. It’s the little things.

“Just wanted to finish,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut, “Didn't think about getting hurt.” 

“Stupid of you,” Abby says quietly, “Almost Venom-stupid.”

“Almost,” she agrees, grins despite herself, would laugh if she could. It hurts too much, though, just like Abby’s eyes on her right now. 

“HEY!” Venom barks, tendrils building until his head forms right by Abby’s right arm. He interrupts the moment, and for some reason, she’s a little thankful for it. “I SAVED YOUR LIFE. DID NOT EAT YOU. I COULD. I SHOULD. WE WANT TO.”

Abby shushes him, shoving at his head half-heartedly. Venom responds by digging his teeth into her arm, which does nothing. He chews angrily.

“You’re not eating her. You just had chocolate.”

“CHOCOLATE IS GOOD. I WANT MORE! HER SPLEEN IS RIGHT THERE, I COULD–”

Abby shoves him again as Ellie watches on. Nothing more to do now that she’s healed up, but the wound in her side is held together by her own skin and pieces of Venom. Pieces of Abby and Venom, because it's always two, and never just the one. Not anymore.

Ellie doesn’t say much when Abby preps the pull-out couch, but she does thank Venom when he slithers up out of nowhere to give her a pillow. It’s the softest thing she’s ever held (probably) and she takes note of the way Abby hides a blush that reaches the tips of her ears.

She doesn’t comment, and instead says goodnight when Abby turns the light off in the living room.

[shreddeddescent]

how raph's run goes after the disaster (prev) (next)

[viciicella]

Ren is just some guy that matches Akechis freak (A tale of two trickers)

[lanaslushworld]

Haters will say it’s fake 🤷‍♀️

[szariahwroteit]

Fine as fuck! 🤤😍

[c-kiddo]

1 day i will finish this fanfic i started thats abt caduceus being at home again and like just hanging out with his mum and just existing with family around + him being like glad im still alive :'-) but i am busy and also every time i work on it i 1. scream 2. cry 3. frow up 4. die

[spacebabesuki]

okay, but have you guys noticed that Eddie has a way of talking or shouting at absolutely everyone? Yet every time he speaks to Chrissy, he uses this really SOFT voice 🥺 I swear to God, his voice changes every time he opens his mouth around her and the way he makes sure she's okay when he gets there and sees her scared! I swear SDHASFKJAOHMYGOOOOOOD! He literally fixed his hair before meeting her in the forest, and his eyes turn so soft around her I'm gonna throw up 😩💖

Two and a half years and I still can't get over it!

[princington]

Falin was flushed and may have felt delirious.

Marcille didn’t let go for an entire hour—going back and forth between her fingers and the soft feathers of her arms. She did it as though it soothed her, flipping through pages like Falin wasn’t burning red in the ears two feet away from her.

cognizance by kayr0ss on ao3

[riddlemearose]

Phoning a Friend

Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.

The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.

Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.

And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.

All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.

It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.

He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.

So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.

The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.

Ha, Warriors is hilarious.

A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.

The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.

The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—

And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.

The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.

Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.

Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.

“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”

Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."

[alinacecee]

IF I COULD SAVE EVERY PICTURE PF PEDRO PASCAL, I WOULD👹👹👹 But have these lil nuggets I got😮‍💨😮‍💨

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 . ”

character : dazai osamu

context : you’re an agent going undercover, you encounter port mafia executive dazai. he finds you interesting. yeah..

authors note : you should listen to the diner by Billie ellish to get the vibe to it.

warning : stalker briefly mentioned, stalker!dazai, can be interpreted romantically or whatever, shout out to my bbg @riiwrites 😼☝🏽, murder and blood mentioned too, gender not mentioned, literally we rock with they/them 💋‼️.. uhm I think that’s all gays yeah..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It was a view [name] had come to appreciate, standing on the balcony of the modest clinic where [name] built their cover. As a doctor specialising in human behaviour, their role was simple enough—listen, observe, and blend in. Standing there in viewing the people going about their days, [name] ran their fingers along the balcony’s iron railing, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath their skin. In this quiet neighbourhood, [name] was simply known as Dr. [name]—a doctor who listened to the woes of the weary, a person who could help people understand the storms in their minds. In some ways, [name] had taken to the role more naturally than they expected. It wasn’t far from what I had trained for, after all. But beneath that calm exterior, my real purpose was far more pressing.

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the papers on my desk inside the small office. I stepped back inside, closing the door behind me as I glanced at the scattered reports and profiles I’d been reviewing. Every interaction I had here was a potential lead—every patient, every conversation was a thread that might lead me to the missing documents. I was hunting for the whispers in the crowd, the signs that something was about to crack.

I sat down and opened one of the files again. A name stared back at me—Takeda Masaru, a local journalist with a reputation for being nosey. He had been in to see me twice, under the guise of seeking help for stress and insomnia. But I knew better. Knocking me out of my train of thought, my smartwatch started vibrating. It was morse code.

‘GOOD EVENING AGENT [NAME], IT'S NICE TO YOU ALIVE AND WELL.WE HAVE NEW INTEL. THERE'S BEEN SIGHTING AT THE LOADING. THE DOCUMENTS SHOULD BE THERE. IT SHOULD BE A DARK RED CARGO BOX WITH THE NAME ‘MELLUVS ART AND WRITING SUPPLIES’ . QUICKLY GET THERE BEFORE ANYBODY INTERVENES. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU.’

I quickly changed my clothing still keeping my pants and shoes and swapping my glasses with sunglasses, my shirt with a business shirt. Taking my coat off the rack I jumped off of the railing onto the pavement. The cold air hitting my face, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. The peaceful exterior I’d adopted as a doctor was peeling away, revealing the true purpose behind the mask.

I arrived at the loading dock slipping past guards. While remaining on my toes, looking around, finding the maroon cargo box, picking the lock, catching it before it could fall can make noise. Opening the door and sorting through papers. I found the papers of the document, putting the papers in my doctors folder, I turned to step out just to be greeted with…

"Are you lost?" a voice rang out behind them.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards the stranger with a simple smile.

“I said, are you lost? Dr. [name].” He repeated.

Standing in the shadow of a weathered chimney was a young man, barely older than them, with an unsettlingly casual grin. His black hair fell messily over his eyes, his posture loose and unthreatening, but I knew better than to trust appearances. There was something sharp beneath that smile.

“Ah. No I’m not..”

"Dazai Osamu," the man introduced himself, stepping closer without a care in the world. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

"Coincidence?" [name]’s voice was flat, unamused. "I don’t believe in coincidences."

Dazai’s grin widened. "Smart. I don’t either."

This wasn’t good. My mission had suddenly become complicated—this was Dazai, a notorious figure in the Port Mafia, rumoured to be both brilliant and dangerous. Getting caught up with him was exactly what their agency warned them about. But retreating now would be even worse. They couldn't afford to show any weakness.

"You’re in my way," I stated plainly, their eyes locked onto him. Dazai’s expression flickered briefly with interest.

"Am I?" he mused, not moving an inch. Instead, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I wonder what someone like you is doing up here. You don’t seem like the usual riffraff the mafia deals with. You're different."

I said nothing. They were trained to maintain a poker face, but they could feel Dazai’s gaze piercing through them, searching for cracks.

After a tense silence, I decided it was better to end this encounter quickly. "I have no business with you. Walk away."

Dazai’s grin softened into something almost playful. "I could say the same. But I don’t feel like walking away just yet. You intrigue me."

Before you could respond, a shout echoed from the alley below—footsteps, too many of them. The mission wasn’t over yet. With a sharp glance at Dazai, [name] moved quickly, shoving him out the way with the documents I hand, disappearing into the shadows of the cargo port.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟 . ♡ . 𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎢

The mission was complete, the documents recovered, and the city’s fragile calm preserved. Days passed, and YN pushed the encounter with Dazai to the back of their mind. They believed they had left him behind in that port, a fleeting figure from a fleeting night.

But they were wrong.

It began with small sightings—first at a diner near one of their agency’s hideouts, a quaint place where [name] often went to clear their mind. They walked in for a quiet moment, only to find Dazai, seated by the window, sipping his coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes met theirs, and that familiar grin spread across his face.

The next time, it was at their ‘job’. [name] worked as a hired security operative for a private military company, and the sight of Dazai loitering near the building was more than unsettling. He didn’t approach them, but his presence was a constant reminder that he was watching.

The evening air felt heavy as [name] returned home from a long shift, exhaustion pulling at their every step. They hadn’t noticed the lingering presence outside, the demon in the shadows, waiting. The lock clicked into place behind them as they shut the door, and for a moment, they stood still, listening. No footsteps followed. The silence was almost comforting.

They kicked off their shoes, fingers absently unbuttoning their dress shirt, craving nothing more than the solace of the couch. As they sank into it, something caught their eye—an envelope, placed conspicuously on the coffee table. A surge of unease rippled through their tired mind, heart beginning to race as they reached for the envelope, fingers brushing the edge of the paper with caution. Slowly, they opened it, their eyes scanning the contents.

‘THIS IS A REALLY NICE PLACE YOU’VE GOT HERE! MIND IF I MOVE IN? I HOPE YOU’RE READING THIS SILLY NOTE! I MIGHT’VE STOLEN SOME DOCUMENTS AND IMPORTANT FILES FROM YOUR OFFICE, SORRY, AGENT [NAME]~!’

A low groan of frustration escaped their lips as they crumpled the note and tossed it into the garbage. [name] rubbed their temples, too drained to deal with the antics of a certain mafioso tonight. Just as they tried to let the tension slip away, they caught sight of something—someone—standing on the balcony.

Their heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, they reached for their gun, gripping it tightly as they cautiously approached the window. They slid it open with precision, never taking their eyes off the figure leaning against the railing. "You’re persistent," [name] said, gun ready but posture steady.

The man on the balcony didn’t seem fazed by the weapon. Dazai Osamu smiled as if this were all part of a game. "And you’re elusive," he countered, voice light and carefree. But there was something beneath that tone, something deeper, lurking behind the casual amusement in his gaze. "I like people who don’t give themselves away so easily."

[name] sighed, lowering the gun but keeping it in hand. Arms crossed, they met his eyes with thinly veiled exasperation. "What do you want, Dazai?"

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ve been trying to figure that out. You’re… interesting. And I’m rarely interested in anyone."

"Flattering," [name] muttered, voice laced with sarcasm as their patience wore thin. "But I’ve got work to do."

Dazai’s expression shifted, his grin softening, but his presence growing more intense as he stepped closer. "I know," he said quietly. "That’s what makes this so fun. You, with your little secrets and dangerous missions… I can’t help but want to unravel it all."

"You can’t follow me forever," [name] warned, voice quieter now, each word a warning laced with resolve.

Dazai’s smile softened further, almost genuine. "Maybe not," he agreed, his voice low, "but I can follow you for a little while longer.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” [name] snapped, their voice sharp as they levelled the gun at Dazai. The cold metal clicked audibly as they cocked it, a clear threat in the air. They pointed toward the door, eyes hard and unyielding. “Do it now, or I'll shoot you.”

Dazai’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling amusement, as if the threat didn’t faze him in the slightest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his body remained relaxed, nonchalant, as though he were in complete control of the situation.

“Shoot me?” he mused, voice light but laced with something darker. “Now, now, Agent [name] that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m joking?” [name] growled, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

Dazai took a step closer, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with theirs. “No, I don’t. That’s what makes this so exciting.”

There was a tension in the room now, thick and palpable. [name] held their ground, but Dazai’s calmness, his lack of fear—it was disarming. He was playing a game they weren’t sure they could win.

“Get out.” [name] demanded, not lowering the gun but sensing this encounter was only going to spiral deeper.

Dazai’s smile softened just a touch, his tone almost genuine. “Nope~!”

“You’re testing my patience,” [name] warned, heart pounding but steady, still aiming squarely at his chest.

“Good,” Dazai murmured, stepping back toward the balcony door. “I like it when people have limits. It gives me something to push.”

With a final glance, he gave them a playful wink. “Until next time, Agent.” Then, as quickly and casually as he had appeared, Dazai slipped out, leaving the tension in the room behind him like a lingering shadow.

[name] stood still, their gun still raised, breaths coming in heavy. The sense of danger hadn’t left—it was only a matter of time before he returned.

additional author notes : ending kinda sucked ass again smh..

word count: 1k

reposts are welcome but do not steal my work!

[sunfortune]

i don’t care if authors write fanfiction but if i read a book and a major problem the author has is making their original characters compelling or developing characters coherently in a work that is otherwise actually decently written. and Then i find out the author was big into writing fic. i’m like yeah…fanfiction is Not beating the allegations 😔