#kylian mbappe x plus size reader

[darlingmbappe]

Out of the Dark | Kylian Mbappé x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Though months of an almost picture-perfect relationship, Kylian still kept you hidden like his own personal secret. How are you supposed to feel like it doesn’t have something to do with how much you weigh?

Warnings: Feelings of being insecure about your weight, slight angst at the beginning, vague sex scene, cussing, not edited very well. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

You’re so proud of him. Truly, he deserves every bit of praise he gets. Even before you’d met him, you followed his career closely, amazed at how someone your age could be accomplishing such monumental achievements. And now, you get to love him intimately, personally tell him how fantastic he is, how much you admire him.

You and Kylian have been together for around eight months, the greatest eight months. It was mutually agreed that your relationship would be kept in the dark from everyone. This seemed like the best idea, what with him having the status he does and you being just an average person. Besides, you’ve never enjoyed the spotlight and we’re happy to keep your weekly grocery store run paparazzi free.

Hidden behind that superficial excuse was the real reason why you were content not being in any tabloids… the bigger body you occupied wasn’t exactly something the media would ignore. You could practically read the headlines already, a reasonable delusion you constantly had to push from your mind in order to stay sane and secure.

It was hard work, learning to love yourself, building up your confidence. You knew you love and accept the body you had, but there was always that little voice in the back of your head saying, ‘am I strong enough to put myself out there like that?’

Kylian seemed relieved when you asked him if the relationship could be kept hush, but now you feel like it’s been too long. You’d brought up the idea of going public after your six month anniversary, but he dismissed it with a quick shake of the head, blaming his agent and how she would freak out if he was announcing a new relationship. She would set him up with dates for all of these events. Models, actresses, and influencers hung on his arm at red carpets while you snuggled alone on the couch, following the events through twitter.

He always assured you that he wished it was you, but it was too complicated. It was a viable excuse at first, but it’s four months away from your one year anniversary. You were tired of dropping hints about beautiful restaurants and romantic spots. You were starting to feel like he wanted to hide you, and not because of his agent would complain or his fans would uproar, but because he was ashamed of you. What a shitty feeling.

“What’s that look, amor?” Kylian asks your reflection in his bathroom mirror.

Not realizing you were lost in thought, you shake your head, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing.” Smile. “You look great.”

He fixes his tie then turns to you. “Very convincing.”

You try and play it cool, laughing. “No, you seriously look amazing.” It was obvious he didn’t mean that part, but you really don’t feel like having this fight right now.

“So do you.” He grabs your hips, trapping you against him and the door.

Now you really do laugh. “Good one, Ky.”

While he wore a designer suit, you were rocking a pair of boy-short underwear and an oversized hoodie. Kylian was going to another super fancy award ceremony. He was getting a trophy and everything, but you couldn’t be there with him. Instead, he’s going to kiss the cheek of a tall, skinny, gorgeous 21 year old model when his name gets called. She was get to be his date for the night while you — the girlfriend — waited patiently in his bed for him to come home and tell you all about it.

The dynamic of the whole affair sets in, sending a little tang of jealousy and insecurity through your body. He notices how your stare points away from him now as you wiggle out of his grip and trudge towards his bed. Kylian walks toward you as you flip through Netflix without any intention of picking something anytime soon.

“I wish you could come with me.” He offers, his facial expressions ridden with guilt. You respond with a quiet and half-hearted hum, continuing to look through the true crime collection. He picks up your dismissiveness. “You know I do.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t mean the sarcastic tone behind it, it was just a natural reaction.

He sighs loudly, scratching his neck. “If you want to say something, say something. I can’t read your mind.” You continue to flip through shows and movies, trying to mask the sad expression that you surely couldn’t hide much longer. “We agreed to this. We both wanted it this way.”

“Eight months ago.” You add, looking at him now. He looked annoyed, like this conversation was a burden to have. “At some point I want to get out of this house. I feel like we should, I don’t know… rethink that whole part of our relationship.”

“This again?” He shuffles to the corner to grab his shoes with a huff. “You know how complicated that would be. You would hate attention like that.”

“Maybe I would.” You sit up in your spot while he sits at the foot of the bed, his back facing you. “So what? I might not love the attention but at least we get to go out to dinner, or take a walk together, or I could hug you after a match, or act like we’re together at all!”

He finishes putting his shoes on, still facing away from you. Kylian doesn’t say anything back for a while. You just waited for him, he had to say something eventually. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Not what you wanted to hear.

You nod silently, but that hurt. You watched him grab his phone and wallet on the nightstand as he prepared to leave so he can pick up his literal runway model of a date.

“Are you ashamed of me?” The words came out of your mouth without your permission, but there they were — shifting the mood of the entire conversation without a second of mercy.

He looks back, his eyes rid of any annoyance and replaced with something kind of depressing, a look you’ve never seen from him before. He opens his mouth right as his phone rings, he looks down at it regretfully, sighing out. “One second.” He murmers sorely before he answers it.

You bit the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears at bay. Crying seems like the last thing you want to do right now. You turn your attention back to scrolling through the now very blurry movies on Netflix. He mumbles something about being right down and hangs up. “I…”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” You assured and bite your cheek harder, feeling the tears right there. “Can’t be late. Not a good look. I get it.” There was a clear harshness behind your permission.

“We’ll talk about this, alright?” He fidgets, making his way to you, kissing your forehead. You feel a tear fall and you wipe it just as quickly, not looking at him. “Hey,” he coos, lifting your chin up wo finally meet his stare. “I am not ashamed of you.” He wipes the tear and kisses your nose. “Okay?”

You nod, sniffling and casually wiping another stray tear away, offering a weak nod. “Okay.”

Kylian felt wrong for walking out at that moment. He knew you wanted to go public but never knew that you were feeling this way. It was something he wanted to unpack, something he wanted to make you feel better about.

That question drove him insane all night. His steak tasted dull, his wine tasted bitter, his date looked like nothing compared to you. She twirled her hair and batted her lashes, assuming he was single. Why wouldn’t she? Nothing in recent news even hinted at any kind of romance going on in the star footballers life, but he knew the truth. He knew who he had waiting for him under his covers, and she deserved better than what he was giving her.

The night crawled by, achingly clapping along with the crowd without really listening to what the applause could be about. After accepting his award, he only wished he could find you in the sea of strangers from the stage. He just wanted to go home. Lay with you, hold your hand, let you know his intentions.

Of course he’d thought about this secret relationship from your perspective. It’s weird, needing a date and not being able to take you, even if you were his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if the roles were reversed.

They kind of were once, and he hated that feeling with a burning passion. Your office held a Christmas party last year and everyone had to bring a date… something about even numbers for one of the holiday games they’d planned out. You mentioned it in passing that you were going with Neil, the handsome budget analysts that you considered to be one of your good friends. Kylian wanted to pick a fight so bad. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t like you going with someone else… but he couldn’t. You’d endured countless news articles pondering if he was dating one of the many women that accompany him, helped him look spiffy for these events, kissed him goodbye as he went to eat a nice dinner with hot models and actresses. How would that be fair?

Hours went by and you didn’t feel the need to wait up for him. These events could drag on for hours past your bedtime, and your mood tonight in particular didn’t feel up to listening to all the glorious details that he makes out to sound dreadful… free cocktails, gourmet food, meeting celebrities, making new friends… there were only so many ways to complain about it before it started sounding disingenuous. The more you thought about it the later it got, quickly time spiraled out of your control, finding yourself watching the busy streets of Paris through the open window from the bed. The frustration you felt when your eyes closed and all you saw was Kylian arm in arm with girls that weren’t you put a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

It couldn’t have been later than 1 o’clock in the morning when Kylian returned, his tie loosened, top buttons undone, jacket almost dragging on the ground as he trudged up the stairs, leaving the shiny new trophy by the door.

It’s kind of insane to him how on long days like these he craves your touch, your comfort. He never thought of himself as someone who could be dependent on another person, at least not in this time of his life. With his priorities set on becoming a legendary football star, he didn’t necessarily set aside time for romance, but you just… happened. Someone so unlike the others, your charm reeling him in until he knew he was done for. Helpless.

The pressure of the public eye is brutal. He knows first hand how the media can ruin a relationship, no matter how strong the pillars you stand on are. They find ways to chip you down, make you doubt everything, make you doubt yourself. You were innocent to it all. He wanted to keep you that way. Selfish, sure, but he knew it would eventually cause some vicious issues down the line. It happens every time.

As he walked through the bedroom door, the shape of your silhouette under the covers tugged on his heart. Though his brain was begging him to wash up in the bathroom and go to sleep, his feet lead him to your side of the bed.

He crouched down at eye level with you, petting a gentle hand on top of your head, taking his time to really look at your face. You eyes slowly opened, he offered a tiny smile that he didn’t even realize grew on his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, amour.” He cooed, running his thumb over your cheek.

“I can’t sleep.” You groggily respond, closing your eyes at his touch.

He leaned over, kissing your forehead continuously without pulling away. “I’ll come to bed in a second.” He mumbled against your skin before standing, taking off his uncomfortable outfit on the way. He made quick time brushing his teeth and washing his face, changing into a clean pair of boxer briefs before crawling into his spot next to you.

Without thinking twice, his hands latched around your waist, pulling your bodies close together and spooning you with his face nuzzled into your hair.

You were hyperaware of everything. The way that his hand landed on the puff of your stomach, the amount of room you took up on your half of the bed, the roll that formed when you laid on your side like you were. At the beginning of the relationship that’s all you could think about whenever Kylian wrapped his arms around you. It took you a while to not tense up and let yourself melt into his touch, but tonight you were taken back to the beginning. The questioning if you were ever going to be good enough. If you’d ever be taken seriously as a couple. If people thought you two looked weird together, that he could do better than you.

“You’re beautiful.” Kylian eased, snapping you out of your thoughts. He felt your muscles tight under your skin, he just wanted you to relax. “I mean it, (Y/N).”

You didn’t say anything back, gulping to try and get rid of the panicky lump in your throat. He kissed the shell of your ear, reaching his hand under your T-shirt and letting it land on your bare stomach.

You tensed up more, instinct telling you to get up and go to the bathroom or something to get out of this situation.

“Stop, bébé.” He clicked once feeling your squirming. “Let me hold you.”

The longer the two of you stayed silent, listening to each others breathing, basking in the warmth you both provided, you felt more at ease. He shifted slightly, letting himself look down on you while holding himself up on his forearm.

He touched your cheek, tracing tour eyelashes with his thumb. “I’m taking you out to a nice dinner tomorrow night.”

You furrowed your brows. “Out?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “That new Thai restaurant you told me about last week.”

The tears swarmed your eyes, a wave of happiness surging through your body like electricity. “Really?” Your voice came out squeaky, laced in weary excitement.

He smiled down at you, kissing your grin onto his own face. “Of course.”

“Oh, baby…” You coo, grabbing his face in your own hands, letting some of the tears run down the side of your face. “Thank you.”

Kylian wiped them away sweetly. “Don’t thank me. I should have done this a while ago. I shouldn’t have kept you hidden away all to myself for this long. It wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry.”

You pulled his neck down and kissed his passionately, but the pace was slow. Eventually, your tongues greeted each other expertly, his legs climbed over to lay his body on yours, his hand roamed under your shirt to feel your bare tits. It wasn’t long before you both got rid of the minimal layers keeping you apart, desperate to feel safe in each others touch.

He was gentle, loving, caressing every inch. Kylian spent extra time loving on the places he knew you overthought about. The ones that people would point out in the past. He kissed and licked them while praising you, leaving marks to remind you how he felt about you. All of you.

You attempted to roll over and have him take you from behind, but he pushed you down. “I wanna see your face. Wanna watch you. Wanna look at you.” He was borderline incoherent, but completely lucid. He said all the right things, forgetting completely about the surefire wave of trouble that would be headed your way tomorrow night.

Kylian was drunk on your sweet sounds. The continued “ah, ah, ah”’s that escaped your plumped lips drove him insane, cumming inside your shaking walls while watching the pleasure grow on your scrunched face. You came while clutching his biceps, closing your eyes tightly in euphoria.

He cleaned you both up, wiping you down with a wet rag before laying back next to you. This time, he pulled you into his chest while he laid on his back, feeling your body now comfortable and relaxed, listening to your soft snores that tickled his bare chest.

The next morning, Kylian’s side of the bed was empty, but the vague memory of his sweet kiss that landed on your forehead before he left send butterflies to your stomach. The much clearer memory of dinner plans tonight erupted another wave of them, motivating you to get the day started as soon as possible, needing to get home and prep for a night you’ve been waiting for for way too long.

On the doorstep of your humble townhome sat a big white box, a pink letter taped to the top with your name written nicely on top. It was obviously Kylian’s penmanship; neat but a little wonky. You giggled to yourself, bringing the box inside and opening the envelope.

To my sweet (Y/N),

You will look so beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to see you. Be ready by 7:30.

I love you, bébé.

-Kyks

You pressed the card dramatically to your chest, humming at the sweetness overload from your boyfriend. Though you wanted to relish in that moment, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to see what the hell was in the box.

“Oh, wow…” You gasp as you catch the first glimpse of the dress that sat neatly on the tissue paper. You pulled it out, putting it against your body. It was a pink floral midi dress, form-fitting at the top, looser on the skirt and a slit that ran down the side. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Thank god that Kylian has a sense of style or else you’d be making your debut in an ugly outfit… Even better, you were thankful he knew your size because that thing fit like a glove. Goddamn… you look so sexy in this.

Time flies, it really does. Especially when your brain is working overtime thinking about the absolute worst things that could happen. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking two shots of tequila to calm your jittery nerves, hoping the shaking in your hands or the knot in your stomach would subdue before the knock on the door came. But, alas, it came…

You took a deep breath in the mirror, checking yourself from head to toe. Confidence is something you had to build, and it’s so much harder than people make it out to be. Fake it ‘till you make it can only take you so far, the rest is real work, especially in a world that praises people who look the opposite of you.

You’d hear your thinner friends complain about how fat they looked right in front of you, as if you didn’t have to live in that reality every single day. It was like their worst nightmare was looking like you. They’d tell you “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” As if you couldn’t be both. You’d walk closely to the wall and try and take up the most minimal amount of space possible — as if you could hide your size, feeling like every judgmental eye was on you all the time.

It was the little things that added up (along with the more brutal comments you’d get through life), but your skin was thick. Thick, yes. Unbreakable? You were about to find out. As soon as you stepped out under the mercy of the public eye with him… you’ll be tested how much you can actually take. How much this relationship could actually take.

You swung the door open to reveal the most handsome sight you’d ever seen. Kylian wore an all black suit. You thought to yourself that this must be what the models of the past were used to opening their doors to. Now, it’s finally your turn.

Kylian was holding a bouquet of flowers that matched your dress, showing off a huge smile. He seemed like he wanted to speak words, but his eyes spoke for him, much louder than anything his voice could come up with.

He eyed you up and down, a visible gulp making you want to retreat into yourself shyly. “Hi.” You meeped, cheeks sore from the smile you couldn’t shake.

Kylian cleared his throat, blowing out a raspberry. “You…”

He continued to eye you, walking in slowly as you shut the door behind him. “You did good with this dress.” You complimented, taking the flowers from his hands and walking them to your sink to grab a vase.

“The dress is just a dress, amour.” He growled, watching your backside like a lion would his lioness, infatuated with every curve and crease your body created under the material. “You in that dress? Tu blagues?” Are you kidding me? He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and kissing your shoulder. “Oh lá lá…”

You laughed, lulling back into his touch, basking in his warm and secure embrace. “You always say the right things, Mbappé.”

He hums, unwrapping his arms and taking the flowers you were cutting from your hands, taking over the process. You stepped back and watched him as he filled the vase up with water, dropping them in with precision, one by one until they displayed beautifully.

He set them next to the bottle of tequila and shot glass you'd left out. He raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. "For the nerves."

"Ah..." He nods, opening the cabinet and grbbing a tiny glass for himself, pouring the golden liquid into each one, holding one out to you. "To nerves of steel." You clinked your glasses, throwing your heads back and shivering as it went down. With a grimace, he shook off the taste of the drink. "Ready?"

Your mouth was dry despite the liquid that still lingered in your mouth. You inhaled deeply, faking a smile on your face while grabbing your purse. "Yep."

Kylian sensed the waver in your confirmation, reaching out to hold both your hands. "They're going to say whatever they're going to say. We can't control their thoughts on our relationship." He kissed your knuckles and all the rings you'd decorated your fingers with. "But we can't let them keep controlling us."

"I love you." You say, looking deep into your man's eyes and thinking about all the emotions you've seen them hold. The frustration after a loss. The playfulness before sex. The adoration during the first I love you that slipped his tongue. The relief that washed away the anxious look when you said it back.

"Your carriage awaits, princesse." He takes your purse and hold your hand, leading you both to the door that he opened for you.

You thanked him as he helped you into the large town car, running around to the other side and sat next to you.

As you neared the restaurant, his hand never leaving your thigh, you just looked at him, taking in every ounce of his being.

He wasn't ashamed of you. He loved you. He cared, he listened, he was perfectly yours. You knew no matter the things you'd surely read about yourself, the things you'd surely think about yourself at times, that Kylain would be a constant. This new chapter might bring some hard times, but you'll stand with Kylian. And he'd stand with you. You knew he would.

A/N: Plus sized ladies never get nearly enough representation on this platform. Hope you all enjoyed, this is something I wrote from my own feelings/experiences being plus sized! Love you all so much.

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @http-isabela

[freshfraise]

Mbappe x reader where he is really possessive and angry and jealous. You can come up with the scenario. Maybe something like what u did for Richi 🫶🏼✨

TERRITORIAL

pairing: mbappe x reader

summary: On the day of one of Kylian’s vital matches, speculations cloud the pitch. Both Y/N and Mbappe learn the crucial power of privacy, realising what people don’t know, they can’t ruin.

author’s note: angst!! possessive and jealous mbappe!! honestly i love writing for him!! plus i tried some new things <33. hope u enjoy and sorry for the long wait :) + i imagined blonde kylian whilst writing this

Kylian startles me, as he comes from behind me and wraps his toned arms around my waist. His chin resting on my shoulder, I let out a long exhalation of relief, feeling a wave of serenity among the bustling Parisian lights. I glanced up, staring deeply into the blinking lights that illuminated the city, and then looked back to Kylian, attaching my lips onto his. Today marked our six month anniversary, and Ky decided to bring us back home to celebrate. Paris always had a special fondness in my heart, as it is where I spent the first seven years of my life, where most of my family resided and where I met Kylian. Although our night had to be cut short due to Kylian’s match at Parc des Princes tomorrow, we both made sure to relish each other’s presence to the fullest.

It was rare we had each other to ourselves like this, due to our demanding and famed lifestyles. If I was free, Kylian had training and if he was free, I had a photoshoot. As if this wasn't enough of a hassle of its own, the added factor of secrecy makes things completely infeasible. Disguises, secret locations and body guards were just some of the thousands of precautions taken to ensure our privacy. So far, it worked, as Kylian was being linked to essentially every Woman in Paris except me. No one had the reason to relate the two of us, as to some, I lived in a completely different universe to Kylian Mbappe. And it was all worth it, as despite everything else about us being in the forefront of the public eye, we finally had something that was utterly and wholly ours. Just ours, and only ever ours.

“Je ne me lasserai jamais de ce vue.” (I will never get tired of this view.) I mention, entirely enthralled by the glimmering tower in front of me.

“Moi aussi.” (Me too.) Kylian responds quickly, and I whip my head back to find his stare unreservedly fixated on me instead of the tower. I smile softly, and drop my eyes to the floor attempting to conceal my bashful state. He can obviously see me try to hide my face, as he erupts into a fit of shameless laughter. This only makes me even more coy, as I physically cover myself with my hands to avoid eye contact. I rest my head on his chest, which reverbates as he continues to laugh at my timidity, as he begins to cradle it and kiss my head. His forwardness has always made me feel shy, which was one of things I liked about him.

“Let me take a picture of you.” He asks, staring directly into my dilated irises. I nod as he takes a couple with me doing funny pictures in front of the tower, some idyllic selfies of the two of us and some with my back turned, facing the view. I decided to choose one to upload to my story, appreciative of the views ahead of me.

-

Game day. I made my way towards the stadium, riddled with nerves. As I sit patiently, my phone lights up seeing Ky’s name appear. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, since at a time so close to the game, he would never go on his phone, it was apart of his pre game ritual. I answer hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Mbappe says, and my worry quadruples in size.

“Yes?” I answer, and he lets out a sigh. “Ky, what’s up?”

“Have you checked your phone recently? Or seen your twitter?”

“No? Why? Do I need to?”

“Check your messages.”

Suddenly, I get a notification from Kylian, viewing the attachment he sent me. I gasp.

I go silent, and Kylian understands my thoughts, as he begins calling out my name. That was me and him, on the front cover, kissing, for everyone to see. How did we not know? How could we be so thoughtless?

I tune in to our conversation and listen to what Kylian has to say.

“Listen, there’s good news and bad news.”

“Je pense que la mauvaise nouvelle est très évidente, what’s the good news? (I think that the bad news is very obvious,)

“Your face is not seen in the article, that’s good, right?” He says, attempting to lighten the tone. I giggle at his ridiculous positivity.

“It says undetected not unknown, I already know they are just waiting for the perfect time to say my name.”

“Speaking of that, there’s one more piece of bad news. Check your twitter.”

I sigh, and my Twitter is on the verge of crashing down with the amount of notifications I have. I go to the trending page and view my name in capitals.

“Kylian…”

I tap on the hashtag and see tons of threads and tweets labelled:

A TIMELINE OF Y/N Y/L/N & KYLIAN MBAPPE’S RELATIONSHIP

THE FRENCH IT COUPLE: Y/N AND MBAPPE

Y/N & MBAPPE??? UNDER THE EIFFEL TOWER,, KISSING???

Y/N IS THE GIRL IN THE PHOTO AND HERE’S WHY…

“Oh God.” I blurt out, realising just how bad this situation is.

“Yeah… essayez de ne pas trop vous en soucier, d’accord?” (try not to worry about it too much, okay?) Kylian says with his voice soft and gentle, trying to console me. I realise his game is getting closer, and he needs to focus, not calling me.

“You too. I’ll still be rooting for you in the stands. I love you.” I affirm, not allowing any trivial tabloids, trending hashtags or headlines get into my head.

“Je t’aime plus. (I love you more.) See you later, Ma vie.” (My life.)

Eventually, I reached Parc des Princes. This was the first time I would be going to one of his matches, due to our privacy precautions and coincidentally it was also the first time I went out as ‘Mbappe’s girlfriend.’ Great. We planned out this for months, ensuring that I could still have a good view, whilst still being hidden from the public eye, and now that all went to waste. As soon as I stepped out of the Uber, I heard haunting shutters and clicks of cameras, something which still irked me after all the experience. Mbappe made sure to increase the security, even before this whole situation, so I wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. Three different guards surrounded me, and escorted me to the seats, which, initially I thought was excessive, however now, I’m more grateful than ever. After navigating endless hallways and shortcuts, I finally sat down in my seat. I scan the pitch to find him, and I immediately see him, more unfazed than ever. Seeing him like that makes me feel more confident in turn, so I straighten up my posture, cross my legs, fix my hair and breathe. The whistle blows, and I just pray this match goes well.

Within minutes of the whistle sounding, Kylian is smoothly assisted the ball from Hakimi, before a defender from the other team viciously slide tackles into Mbappe’s ankles. He drops brutally. The crowd roars in anger and the referee whistle is sounded. I jump up instinctually, genuinely stressing. To everyone’s surprise, Mbappe limps up and begins to confront the heated defender. They argue aggressively, foreheads pounding, vicious shouts and boyish shoves and grunts consuming the screen. Just as the teammates from the respective teams begin to diffuse the situation, seemingly reaching a state of stillness, the defender utters something, which was completely unintelligible on the screens, but was clear enough to make Kylian charge towards him again.

Kylian releases himself from his frenzied team mates grasp and dashes towards him. Still provoking him with his comments, Kylian shoves the player with his utmost force and in turn, he drops to the ground immediately, rolling around to finish off the performance. I could tell Ky was extremely, extremely irritated by him, and was on the brink of losing control. The melodramatic player stops rolling around and gets back up, muttering more comments towards him. Kylian finally reaches his edge, as he shoves the player with intense acceleration. The crowd jumped in shock, the game turning into utter chaos as both teams failed to diffuse the situation miserably. The referee swiftly puts a red card above his head, something that Kylian was practically waiting for. He knew what he did was stupid. Before he left, I could make out the words ‘Parlez encore d'elle’, ‘Redis son nom’ and ‘Voir ce qui se passe’.

I could tell he was still angry as he left the pitch, as he ignored consoles from his manager and teammates and headed straight out towards the tunnel leading them back to the changing rooms. Suddenly, I make the executive decision to go, picking up my feet and explaining to bumptious guards that I am perfectly capable of going to the bathroom by myself.

Reaching the hallways, I hear the thump and strikes of objects being hurled around the room laced with a string of unrefined french swears. I breathed out Kylian’s name, before following the sounds as it became increasingly louder. I perceive erratic breathing and I become alarmingly worried at his state. Placing my fingers upon the door, I push outwards revealing the catastrophic conditions of the changing room. I see him, sitting on the floor against a disfigured locker door. His head hung back, facing the ceiling and his eyes pinched shut, as if he was trying to erase something from his mind. I murmur his name from under my breath, and he looks up at me, prolonging unfeigned eye contact. I begin to make my way towards him, before Kylian jumps up and moves back from me. I frown, puzzled but nonetheless I remain immobile maintaining a gut wrenching distance.

“Ky, qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?”(What’s wrong?) I ask gently, tilting my head and giving him further inspection. I glance down to his knuckles, bruised and red. “Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé là-bas?” (What happened down there?) My voice slowly started to become less and less unfaltering as it grew with concern.

He shakes his head and compresses his lips together, his hands placed firmly on his hips. He starts pacing around the room, opening up and closing his mouth in an attempt to formulate a sentence. Seeing him this anxiety-ridden makes my heart pound with sympathy, so in a couple strides, I come towards Kylian and grab his attention. I cup his face, staring into his dilated irises. I see flicks of hesitation scan his face, before I begin to calm him down.

“I love you. You can trust me.” I reassure him, as his broad shoulders slowly become less uptight.

“I know I can. C'est moi, en qui je n'ai pas confiance..” (It's me, who I don't trust.) He mutters shamefully, expressing the extent of his anger.

“Well I do. I trust you completely.”

Kylian heaves, before his attentive glare left mine and watched the walls. “He- They know about you. He was talking about you on the pitch. The whole team.” I sigh, before softly dropping my hands from his face. He notices this, as he grabs my hands to hold them before they fall against my sides.

“What did they say?”

His head hangs low, and his gaze meets the floor. I look up at him searching for the eye contact I desire, but his eyes remain glued to the ground. “Ky-” I’m cut off as he looks back at me.

“First they said you were pretty. They kept saying your name, congratulating me for getting someone as sexy as you. Afterwards, they began to threaten me about how I need to get up from the ground so I won’t embarrass you. Then one of them started to talk about how they can treat you better. That they can fuck you better than me. When I pushed him down, his teammates started to say the same thing, saying your name, imitating you, moaning. It was disgusting and I’m sorry that you-”

I connect my lips onto his, overwhelmed. It felt like the only correct answer at the moment, as Kylian’s temper was rising by the minute. His resentment translated into ardent concupiscence, as his hands shifted against my body frantically. His hands in my hair, and my arms linked around his shoulders. I hoped my appreciation for him was communicated. A million thoughts condensed into one single moment.

I slowly detach my lips from him, as our foreheads touch. Trying to regain my breathing, I still see Ky’s eyes closed and his lips pressed together. Eventually, his eyes flutter open and I begin to laugh at his state. Face flushed, red lipstick staining his lips it was truly a heavenly sight. As our laughs reverberated against the changing room, he grabbed my waist and pressed it towards him in a snug embrace. After a few beats of silence, I place my chin on his chest to look up, “Is it bad to say I like it when you’re jealous?” He looks down and furrows his eyebrows. His dimple pops up as he talks, “I wasn’t jealous.” I laugh at his denial, because clearly his actions presented differently.

“So getting a four match ban isn’t a result of your jealousy?” I remark snarkily as Kylian pouts, slightly saddened by my words. I laugh quietly to myself, before I apologise profusely and kiss the tip of his nose.

He continues to plead his case saying “Je ne suis pas jaloux, je suis territorial. (I am not jealous, I am territorial.) Jealousy is when you want something that’s not yours, and I was just protecting what’s already mine.”

-

[darlingmbappe]

The Loneliest [Epilogue] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: A glimpse into your life with Kylian Mbappé.

Warnings: Smut, oral (male and female receiving), cussing, crying, pregnancy, badly google translated french, super cheesy (sorry not sorry), I feel like I got a little preachy at the end there but I feel like it fits, so it stayed in, 10.8k words so read when you have time to spare lmao. Let me know if I missed anything! – English is not my first language –

Masterlist

"You seriously need to get out of this place." Kylian grunted as he wiped his hands on a dirty hand towel, sweat shining on his forehead.

You scoff. "You're telling me." You leave the fruit you were slicing on the counter to lean over and quickly peck him on the lips. "Thanks for fixing the AC, babe."

"Don't thank me yet. I don't even know if I did any of that right." He chuckles, stealing a peach slice from the cutting board and popping it in his mouth.

Fair point. Though you felt the air finally blowing coolly on your sweaty neck, Kylian was absolutely not a handyman. But all you had to do was bat your lashes and he was game, taking his shirt off with a wink and throwing it at you jokingly.

Even after almost seven months of living in this shoebox, your landlord had only come once to replace your doorknob which promptly fell off the next day. Besides being absolute dog shit at his job, he's a creepy man. Always with a lingering stare and invasive questions. Kylian met him one time and assured you you didn't have to call that guy ever again, that he'd take care of any maintenance issues. You laughed out loud when he told you this which bruised his ego, but he's kept his word.

So far, he's successfully captured and released a rat, unsuccessfully repaired your ceiling fan, and more recently, accidentally sprayed himself in the face with a vicious stream of water while trying to fix your drippy kitchen faucet. He was pissed, but only for a second. Your unstoppable laughter cut right through his bad mood that was sure to explode out. Instead, you both shared a moment of wheezing, clutching your stomachs and clinging onto each other for balance.

It had been a good six months officially back together. Better than good. The relationship itself was easy. Of course it was easy… you knew him inside and out, and vice versa. You’d tried to keep your guard up, truly... but, whenever Kylain wrapped his large hand around your waist like he was now, you melted into him.

You continue slicing peaches and berries, Kylian's sweaty and shirtless body pressed behind you to look over your shoulder, resting his chin on your bone, placing only one kiss to the side of your neck to hear you giggle. The sweet sound was his absolute favorite since the moment he met you. The spot where your shoulder met your neck would scrunch into his face when his lips landed there — a useful piece of information he took advantage of ever since he discovered it.

“I have a knife in my hand, you know.” You warned playfully, making him squeeze you affectionately.

“Wow, I’m very scared.”

“You should be.” You set the knife down and turn in his arms, facing Kylian, only a couple inches away from his face. “I’m deadly.”

“That, you are.” He mumbled in a sultry tone, pressing forward to kiss you without hesitation, letting his hands begin to move on your hips, pulling your body directly into his.

You wrap your arms around his neck and move your mouth against his, careful not to touch him with your sticky fingers. He smiles against you, walking your entwined bodies backwards until his leg hits the couch, bringing you both down onto the soft cushions.

“Kylian!” You chuckled delightedly, pulling away from his face as you straddled his lap, his hands resting on your ass comfortably. “I’m making a tart.”

“Let’s make out first.” He dictated, biting his lip as his stare became needier.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with an adoring grin. “It won’t take me long to finish.”

“Me neither.” He joked, wiggling his eyebrows, defensively laughing as you smacked his arm at the comment.

You still haven’t had sex, not since before the break up. It wasn’t a precaution or punishment you intended on keeping for this long, but you wanted the timing to be perfect. You understand that this is quite a large amount of pressure to put on one single moment, but it’s a part of you you didn’t want to give away just yet. A safety net, of sorts. It had been almost eight months since that dreary night of your birthday. To some, that might seem like a long period to not have sex — but to you, the broken intimacy extends far past the parameters of time. You’d do it when you were sure you were ready.

Thankfully, Kylian accepted your decision and respected it, but refused to hold back his affections. Physically, he didn’t think he could. You were just so cute, so sexy, and exclusively his again.

You climbed off his lap, tusking at him as you walked away back into the kitchen. Not a far walk, but Kylian enjoyed the view nonetheless.

He wanted you so bad. Obviously, the amazing sex wasn’t even close to the sole reason for wanting you back… but he was just a man. An impressive man, yes. But still only a man. He could whine about it as much as he wanted to, but this was still your timeline and his fuck up.

You were stuck in a daydream as you began to roll the dough out. Your shitty oven preheated fourteen degrees hotter than your recipe called for, but the heat mechanism inside was as old as Paris itself. You’d had one too many under baked dishes until you finally figured it out. You made sure the line was drawn for handyman-Kylian when he needed to stick his head inside of an oven.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the oven started to click. Now, you’re no expert, but that’s not something an oven should do. You and Kylian both locked eyes, a furrow of concern growing on both your faces as the clicking turned to rattling. Then, it began shaking, shaking until it plopped itself open like in a cartoon, the oven door breaking off completely and clanging on your floor, sending a wave of strong heat straight to your face.

“Jesus!” You jumped back and Kylian was pulling you away toward the front door in a millisecond.

“Stay there!” He yelled running back to the kitchen, carefully stepping around the heated door on the ground while avoiding the scorching air from the oven, turning the knob to turn it off hurriedly. He sprinted back to you as you both watched the oven calm itself, the laser red heaters inside slowly dwindling.

You stared at your kitchen with tears of frustration brimming your eyes, uniting your apron and throwing it down. “I fucking hate this place!” You crossed your arms, well aware your pout looked like a third graders.

Kylian hooked his arm around your shoulder, bringing your crying figure into his chest. “I know, amour. I know.”

Kylian felt waves of guilt in moments like these, knowing that if it weren’t for him, you’d be comfortable in your shared home, lavishly living like he wanted you to. Like you were meant to. He’d offered many times to at least let him pay for an upgrade, but the scowl alone let him know that he was not to do that. You made it clear that your life and his were to be separate until further notice. Even offering to buy you a new shower head was crossing that line, no matter how badly you wanted one that didn’t feel like you were being pissed on by an elderly man.

“How ‘bout we finish your tart at my place?” He murmurs, tilting your head up, wiping the tears away carefully. You nuzzled your nose back into his skin, nodding and sniffling.

He helped you place everything neatly in Tupperware containers while you made yourself an overnight bag.

You kept disposables at his place; toothbrush, extra face wash, makeup wipes… the sort of things that were replaceable in case anything went awry. But recently, you’d notice you’d leave your charger there accidentally, a couple of nice shirts or jeans. Though you scolded yourself for the carelessness, a part of you was happy your subconscious knew you’d be back there. The possibility of everything going to shit again wasn’t anywhere in sight, but you didn't want to jinx it.

His place always smelled the same. Woody, slightly floral, airy like the windows were always left open. Your place, on the other hand, always smelled of mildew, no matter how long you’d let fresh air in, how many candles you lit, how many air fresheners you bought. His home was evocative. Comforting. The perfect place to finish your tart.

“Can I help?” Kylian asked, taking yet another peach from your tray.

“Yeah, how about you stop stealing my ingredients?” You poked, sifting more flour on his countertop.

“But they taste so good.”

“Don’t care. Chef’s rules.” You shrug, pulling the bowl of fruit away from Kylian.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as you focused on making your desert, continuing to roll the dough out like you had been trying to do for the past hour. Suddenly, you felt a sharp whip on your ass.

“Ah!” You squeal, turning around and seeing Kylian wearing a shit eating grin and holding a kitchen towel innocently. “You whipped me!” You try and hold back a grin, but it slipped through.

Kylian shrugged. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh, you wanna mess with me?” You shake your head, taking the towel that was thrown over your shoulder and twisting it menacingly, instantly sending Kylian on defense with his own towel.

You both were set in position, just waiting for the other to make a move. You tried your luck and it worked, whipping him right on the leg.

“Putain!” He curses, immediately retaliating but missing when you step back. You tried again, hitting him in the butt as he attempted to run away, laughing when you heard his playful scream. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, mon chérie.”

You both psyched each other out on opposite ends of the kitchen island, giggling at every move you made. This was Kylian's game. Having professional practice at this daily, he caught you when you tried to make a run for the living room, strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“No!” You cackled, doing your best to hit him with the rag as your limbs went weak with joy, letting him carry your full body weight down to the couch, your head landing on the cushion as he straddled you. He poked your sides, successfully tickling you into a silent laughing mess, big intakes of air were few and far between until you could pull yourself together enough to wave your white flag. “Okay! Okay! I give up! You win!”

He stopped, chuckling at you who was still calming down, arms protectively covering your stomach. Kylian was absolutely filled with adoration at this moment. He loved seeing you so happy, so candid, so full of life. He loved knowing he played a part in that. That he made you laugh. He was responsible for the now subdued giggles that found their way up from your chest by their own accord.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and kissed your lips so sweetly that it made him dizzy… it made you dizzy. You placed your gentle hands on his face, pulling him in deeper, scratching the nape of his neck and pulling back enough to watch the goosebumps flood his skin.

“You still love when I do that.” You mumble, voice quiet and wispy.

He hummed, turning his head to kiss your wrist. “I just love you.”

Your heart thumped at his affirmation. It did every time. “I love you too.”

With nothing else left to say, you pulled him back into you, letting the passion take over as your leg wrapped up and around his waist to pull him closer.

He might as well have been devouring you, soaking in every ounce of love you presented him with. His tongue lapped yours, hands roaming up and down your sides, feeling the hums you sang in his entire body like electricity.

His hips began to grind gently on yours, lost in the sweet kisses you bombarded him with as he moved down your neck, leaving purposeful hickeys on it as proof that he was there. Proof that you were his. He began to get hard, something he’d usually try and hide to not make you feel bad about the no sex thing, but he didn’t this time. He was too caught up in this moment with you.

Without much warning, you flipped both of your bodies around, now straddling his taken-aback figure. You leaned down and pressed one single long kiss on his lips before pulling off completely, standing and walking away.

You left Kylian on his back, a disappointed look on his features as he caught his breath, your body nowhere near his anymore. He wanted to fully feel you again so badly, already making a plan to excuse himself to the bathroom for approximately 5-10 minutes to take care of himself.

Before he could, a piece of clothing landed on his body. He looked at it confused, leaning up and over the back of the couch to see you standing halfway up the staircase, topless, a flirtatious smirk dancing across your features. Once you saw the realization hit him, you giggled and jogged up the stairs.

He only let himself sit in shock for a second before he jolted up, making long strides toward the staircase, following the trail of clothing. Your shorts, your socks, until he reaches the doorknob that you hung your bra on. He took them all in his hands, slowly opening the door.

There you were — revealed, laying with your arms propped up, facing his direction in nothing but a pair of underwear, your figure shining in the afternoon sun that was steeping through the open window. The backlighting provided a luminous halo around your head, eyes traveling down to your hardened nipples, your navel, your legs — you looked completely angelic. His limbs lost the ability to hold up your strung clothing anymore, letting them drop to his feet as he exhaled, eyes hooded with need.

“Shut the door, baby.”

He does as he’s told, closing it with his foot so he wouldn’t have to turn away from your practically naked body. As he walked to you, he shed his own clothing, leaving himself only in boxer briefs when he reached you, laying on top of you. He wastes no time kissing you, showing you how desperate he is for this moment to go on.

His left hand held his weight up as his right traced a gentle path from your thigh to your neck, pulling your face ever closer to his, noses smushed against each other.

You whimpered, feeling wetness pool between your legs, moving your hips against his now obvious erection. You placed your thumb under the hem of his boxers, tugging them down as far you could until he rolled over on his back and pulled them down the rest of the way, erection slapping his stomach. His eyes were wide as you straddled him again, placing your warm hands on his bare chest.

“You’re so sweet to me.” You praised, voice like candy but extremely sultry. You pecked his bicep. “And patient.” You kissed his chest. “And thoughtful.” Just above his belly button. “You’re… everything to me.” You sigh, kissing almost the base of his wanting member, keeping eye contact as you grab it, kissing his red tip.

He whined at the contact, caressing your hair. “Bébé…” He wanted to say so much more, but when he saw your lips wrap around his head, all he could do was throw his head back into the pillow and lift it just as fast, not wanting to miss a second of this moment.

You took him down slowly, twisting your hand up and down with slight pressure, tracing the familiar veins as you went on. His moans were pure filth, just getting filthier the deeper you took him. You were proud of yourself for not losing your deepthroating abilities as his tip went down your throat and your lips met his base, massaging his balls as he groaned into the air.

You pulled back and flattened your tongue against his slit, using the tip of your tongue to circle around it stiffly. “Mon dieu…” He hissed, breathy and laced with unadulterated pleasure.

Finally, you gave into your craving – fully realizing how much you’d missed having him in the palm of your hand like this. Taking the entirety of his length all the way back in without warning made his hips jolt into you, causing you to gag but not pull back. His eyes were fixed on yours and how tears formed on your lashes. Your mouth is so full of him, bursting at the seams as your lips touched his base. The way you tried to take him deeper with a slow shake of the head… it all drove him mad. He felt like he was under your spell.

The shallow breaths and whines Kylian sounded out made you soak your panties even more. You felt as if he were close, but you didn’t want him to come. Not yet.

You pulled him out with a pop, wiping the corners of your mouth as he wasted no time sitting up. His gaze didn’t falter as he watched how you stood on your knees on the bed, straddling his legs, looking down at Kylian who made eye contact as his hands were placed flat on the outsides of your thighs. Slowly, he pulled your panties down. He was practically face to face with your pussy but felt the need to look at you, your eyes, the way you bit your lip. He finally looked forward and groaned appreciatively at the sight, seeing you glisten for him.

“You’re perfect.” He said almost to himself, putting his hands on the round of your ass to get you to shuffle into his face. Once you were close enough, he buried himself in your slit immediately as you grabbed his shoulders and dug your nails in.

He tilted back to get the perfect angle for his tongue to meet your clit, expertly moving his tongue back and forth, up and down, every direction with consistency and pressure. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, feeling like an addict who’s relapsed on his drug of choice.

He couldn’t be positive that this wasn’t another wet dream as he watched your chest heave above him, the light now hitting you directly. It illuminated every goosebump, every divot, every curve, every stretch mark, every bit of your skin. He didn’t even know if he was blinking, taking a mental video of the way you looked right now for later, whenever he was alone.

Your legs shook as he added a finger up into you, then another to accompany it. “Holy… fuck… yes!” You couldn’t keep the moans in if you tried, your mind blank from anything but the thought, why the hell did I wait this long again? You’d know the answer in a heartbeat if Kylian hadn’t begun scissoring his digits, curling them like he had a map telling him exactly where to go.

“Oh, god… Kylian… yes! Right there… feels so good, baby.” You blabbered, maybe not as coherent as you meant for it to come out, but Kylians ears perked at any noise he could get out of you, pressing his face lower and deeper into your pussy. He continued to eat you out, fingering you mercilessly. His own moans were blubbered, sending the vibrations through you anyway, amplifying the sensation of him being tucked between your legs.

“Ky… fuck!” Your voice shook along with your legs as you neared your climax. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby.” You grabbed the back of his head and pushed it harder against you. He wanted to tell you how he wanted to feel you cum all over his face, on his tongue, on his fingers… but couldn’t find it in him to pull away from your sweetness.

Instead, he laid down on his back, doing his best to pull you with him to not break his movements. You let him pull your body down to effectively sit on his face, eyes rolling back at the increased pressure as he tugged you deeper.

“Holy shit.” You groan, grabbing the headboard with a white fist, peeking down at Kylian who had his hands wrapped around your upper thighs, his eyes the only visible portion of his face from where he drowned himself in you.

His long, long fingers were relentless at speeds you’d only attribute to him, tongue lapping perfectly in sync, brutally abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves over, and over, and over, and over…

“Oooh, fuuuck!” Your high pitched voice elongated and wobbly as your orgasm nearly brought spots to your eyes, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You shook uncontrollably as Kylian continued to lap up everything you gave him, fingers still working inside of you until you instinctively used any strength left in you to pull off of him, moving your hips lower until your upper body rested completely on top of his.

Kylian breathed heavily on his back, feeling so accomplished and satisfied, no matter how painfully hard he still was. He was surprised he didn’t blow his load watching and listening to you scream his name. Even now he could cum with the feeling of your wetness bare on his skin and your lazy kisses on his peck, shaking fingers reaching down to tangle your hands together.

Without saying anything, you pulled yourself up, shifting your weight until you were lined up with his cock, pressing your wet core down on it and grinding against him.

“Ah…” He groaned, shutting his eyes at the friction. “I really am not gonna last if you do that, bébé.”

You bit your lip and smirked lovingly down at him, untangling your hands and used them to run up and down his bare chest. Feeling his muscles flex and heave was so intimate, wanting, needing to feel every inch of his skin with your own.

You lifted your hips once more, using one of your hands to line up his girthy member to your weeping core, letting it prod you open like he has hundreds of times before. The tightness from your last orgasm, the slick mix of his own spit and your cum, the feeling of finally getting to bury himself inside you once more… to think it all felt elusive to him just six months ago. To think he could have lost you forever.

His brows furrowed as you took him to the hilt, resting there to let yourself adjust to his massive size. Kylian looked to where your bodies connected, biting his lip to keep from moaning at just the sight. His hands grabbed your ass cheeks as you slowly began to move. The stretch was perfect, the pain from it even heightened the sensation of the intimate act.

“Fuck.” Kylian breathed as you found a slow rhythm, bouncing up and down on his dick.

He began to meet you halfway with his thrusts, hypnotized by the way your tits bounced in his face as you leaned forward. He hummed in pleasure, reaching out in front of him to grab two handfuls of your breasts, tweaking your nipples under his fingers, tugging at the supple skin.

The sun beamed on you like a goddess, as he continued to watch you in perfect clarity. The noises in the room were filthy, moans and grunts, skin slapping together, low curses that groveled out straight from your chests.

Your legs became tired and you leaned forward more, bodies pressed up against one another completely as you moved your hips against his, feeling your second orgasm beginning to brew inside your lower belly.You buried your face in Kylians neck as he held your body tightly, hugging your torso as you continued to move back and forth.

He could tell your muscles were sore from riding him, so he shifted his hips up slightly. “You’re so amazing.” He praised into your ear, kissing your shoulder as he propped his legs up. “I love you so much.”

Kylian, though not on top, wanted to have some of the control. Make you feel so good. He positioned himself perfectly to fuck up into you… and he did.

The first thrust was deep and hard. “Oh, Ky… oh… fuck!” You moan out, pulling back from his neck to look him in the eye. The second thrust was the same. And the third. And the fourth. His pace was ruthless and tender, perfectly rough as the drag of his dick going in and out, poking and poking that spot that made your toes curl into themselves.

You cussed out, moaned out his name — the vibrato of your moans matching the continuing thrusts into you that didn’t falter, didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. Not even when you saw the familiar scrunch between his eyebrows raise up.

“You gonna cum inside me, baby?” You heaved, not knowing how much longer you’d be able to hold your own climax.

He screws his eyes shut, trying to form a word but just grunting instead, nodding quickly. You leaned down and kissed him, gently biting his lower lip and tugging it.

He held you tighter, leaning up to press his forehead to yours, lips and noses brushing against each other, breaths becoming one as your opened mouth pants fanned the others face. “Cum with me, amour.”

“Mhm.” You hummed out a moan of agreement, actual words being much more difficult.

Staring dotingly into the eyes of the man you love, letting him make love to you… Bare and vulnerable together. Tethered to each other through years of good humor and solid devotion. In that moment, you two felt unbreakable. Whether that was true or not didn’t matter. Not even a little bit. You’d weathered the storm and found out it was impossible to survive it without the other. That feeling of true love translating into a physical act, knowing that the emotions you held for each other were authentic and reciprocated was a feeling you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

You felt the warmth spread in your lower abdomen as you curled into Kylians sweaty body. “I’m gonna cum,” you pant, bracing his shoulders.

“Me too. Fuck.” He cursed, not wanting this moment to end. He continued his thrusts, watching the pleasure and torture grow on your face by the second. He thrusts again, again, again, again, until he knew he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “Cum for me, bébé.”

You cried out into his mouth. He did the same, squeezing your body against his so tightly. Simultaneously, your orgasms ripped through your bodies. Your walls shook around him as he spurted his hot seed inside you, effectively painting your walls white as he fucked it deeper into you. He did his best to keep his eyes open, needing to see how you fell apart… It was magic.

His thrusts slowed until they halted altogether. Your ears rang at the silence that followed the passion, slowly regaining the ability to listen to the synchronized breathing, the rapid heartbeats that thumped loudly against the others chest, the faint ambiance of the outside world you both had forgotten about, only focused on the one true love in front of you… in front of him.

“Kylian?” You heaved after a moment of basking in each other's presence, feeling his hand move up and up your bare back to hold the back of your head against his chest.

“Yes, mon amour?”

You paused, smiling and kissing his chest tenderly. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna finish that tart.”

Five months later

“Okay. Fine. I’ll hand it to you.” You sigh, hand resting on your hips as you try and catch your breath. “This was definitely worth the hike.”

Kylian blew a raspberry as he set the blanket down on the tall grass. “That was barely a hike.”

“It was a steep hill.”

“You didn’t even carry anything.” He pointed out, setting the basket down and gesturing to it. “That shit is heavy.”

“You packed it.” You respond, walking over and sitting down on the checkered material and shuffling through the items in the wicker basket. “Oh, damn. Ky. I thought this was going to be like… ziplock baggies and canned wine kind of picnic.”

“Canned wine?” He repeated, shocked and almost offended.

“It’s a thing.” You shrugged, pulling out the glass tins full of food, opening them, spreading them around neatly as he sat next to you and helped by lighting a candle he brought to keep away the bugs.

He pulled out a bottle of cabernet, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Tonight is for real wine.” He stated, uncorking the bottle with the corkscrew.

He really thought of everything.

You thanked him as he handed you a stemless glass full of red liquid. “You’re so cute.” You mumble, watching him as he opened the container with pastries, neatly organized, somehow unaffected by the long drive and trek up to this spot. A light laugh escaped his lips, shy under your loving gaze. You squeeze his hand for a second before you request, “let me take a picture of you, honey.” 

It obviously wasn’t a suggestion as you shuffled opposite of him, positioning yourself behind your cell phone.

Kylian smiled, squinting slightly at the direct sunlight of the lowering sun. The captured moment couldn’t be more sweet, feeling a goofy giggle rise from your chest looking at your man digitally captured. It couldn’t possibly compare to the actual sight, but it was a close second.

“Adorable.” You go back to your spot, now leaning some of your body weight on his shoulder. “Let's eat. I’m starving.”

He chuckled, having heard that from you the second he began driving from the small rental cabin in the French countryside to this spot. A secluded hillside facing west, painted with wildflowers and tall grass. He felt around discreetly in his pocket, finding that the small box was still secured safely in there.

He handed you a cloth napkin when he saw you devouring one of the finger sandwiches and using your hand as a plate. You thanked him with a giggle, not even embarrassed about the glob of mustard you felt at the corner of your mouth.

You both carried casual conversations while you munched on the packed dinner; listening to his stories about the team, asking about family members, laughing at inside jokes, gossiping about people at your work… domestic conversations that flowed like a river downstream.

The way you gently brushed away a crumb on the corner of his mouth… how you’d take a bite of his pastry even though you had your own…  watching your nose scrunch up and your head tilt back when he made you laugh… when he shielded you from the gentle spring breeze and you tucked yourself deeper into him until eventually, the pair of you might as well have combined into one. It was all so comfortable.

He noticed as you became distracted from the conversation, the clouds in the sky whisking together as the colors change catching your attention more than his locker room story.

“It's so beautiful here..." You mumble softly, trying to conserve this serene moment. You romanticized this kind of life; settling down in the French countryside; acres of open land and rolling hills, living off of homegrown vegetables and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Kylian pulled your shoulder down into his body, letting you use him as a headrest until you shuffled your way in between his open legs, falling into his warm embrace as if it was chiseled just for you by whatever higher power was out there.

He wrapped a snug and affectionate hug around your waist, pressing his cheek to the side of your head. Solely your presence in this time was enough to make him yearn to grow roots; plant himself deep into this soil with you in his embrace. The old oak trees that were scattered across the land were calling him to settle down with them. They reached toward the sun, strong and tall, branching out with leaves that danced happily in the sporadic gusts of air, content in their growth, their place, their permanence.

Ever since he'd known you, he knew you had a thing for sunsets. You would point them out so frequently as if it were your first time ever seeing one. His fondest memory is winning your love back while watching the long rays of sun break through the clouds in his Paris home, the home you finally share again. Well over a year has passed, but he remembered every detail like it just happened the day before. That's why this was the place he'd ask you – again – to marry him. This time, he'd see it through. He'd watch you walk down the aisle. He'd kiss you after declaring his love in front of everyone. He'd spend the rest of his days cherishing you, growing a family of your own, reminding you how perfect you are to him.

He kissed your temple, warmth spreading when you pressed into his lips, hearing you take a deep breath in. He took one also, preparing himself for what’s to come. "Come on. I gotta show you something."

He stood up and helped you along, grabbing your hand and entwined your fingers, leading you down the hill, walking hand in hand for a couple minutes. You saw it immediately, even from yards away; the field of wildflowers that sprung up from the ground, invading the land for miles was impossible to ignore. The untouched area leaves them at peace to grow and be beautiful, insusceptible to the wrath of lawn mowers and weed-wackers.

As their petals reflected the gold rays of the sun, the light changed the colors of your skin. He couldn’t focus on the deep warming hues above him like you were, completely distracted from the sight. The sun kissed the horizon and he could see its mirrored image in your eyes. He decided that was a much better way to experience this.

“Kylian.” You breathed, your voice airy and dreamy. Your eyes couldn’t be torn away as you walked into the field of flowers, feeling the stems tickle your ankles. Kylian stayed in place, your hands parting when you walked too far away. “Look at the sky.”

He found himself in this situation before, having to disobey your request once again as his eyes were preoccupied. He wished he was a painter so he could recreate this scene and look at it forever; put it up in a museum with a silver plaque that told everyone how much you mean to him — though he was sure that even with the largest of vocabularies, the words to truly explain the way you made him feel didn’t exist. It was allconsuming. Overpowering. Unreal.

He thought about the last time he was in this position – with a ring burning a hole in his pants pocket. The sweat beads on his forehead were obvious that night, having to use his suit jacket’s sleeve to keep them out of his eyes. He remembered how all of your peers cheered when you said yes, the rooftop restaurant rented out for only your close friends and family. It was nice experiencing that blissful moment with others, but today felt calmer. Like the eyes of the world couldn’t reach you. The pressure of it all was still heavy, but his soul was still as water in a pond, only riddled by the distant worry of the inevitable day's end — healed rapidly by the knowledge he’d have you in his arms every day after.

You faced the horizon still, back turned to him when his knee had found the earth below him, his fingers clutching the pocket sized box. He should be nervous now like he had been all week, overthinking every integral moment of the rebuild of your relationship — but he knew right now, in this moment, in his heart, it’d be you and him forever. Just as the universe intended.

“Isn’t it perfect?” The words escaped your lips just as you twirled around, not expecting to have to look down to meet your lover's adoring gaze. You gasp, putting your hand on your chest at the man on one knee.

You two shared a second of silence, throats clogged with weeps that waited patiently to break free inside your throats, hearts beating at the same pace, bound to each others’ without the promise of a ring.

“In all my years, I’ve found many things that make me happy in this life. But none of them compare to you.” The emotion of it all brought tears to his eyes, matching your glossy ones. “From the first moment I saw you, I was yours. Every day since, I fall deeper in love with you. I promise you, I will fight for our love until my last day on earth. I’ll work hard to keep a smile on your face, because no one can make me smile like you can. I’m so in love with you. I can’t wait to grow old with you. To grow a family. To spend the rest of our lives by each other's side. The good and the bad.”

Your hand covered your mouth, but he saw the smile reach your eyes, trails from your crying running down each finger. You sniffled into your palm, Kylian's beaming and hopeful smile radiating brighter than any sunset ever has.

He flipped open the box, still fixated on only you, and you only him. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life.” His voice cracked as the words escaped him, speaking directly from the deepest part of his soul. “Will you marry me?”

You clutched your heart once more and stumbled toward Kylian, getting down on your own knees to be at his level. You grabbed his face softly, staring into his sparkling irises, giggling happily through the tears, wiping his own with your thumbs.

“Yes!” You rejoiced, words laced in pure honey, kissing his lips aimlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you, Kylian.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, both your faces fitting delightfully in the crooks of each other's necks, wetting the skin with the endless waterfalls that fell freely.

You pulled back, kissing him once more. He kept his head close to yours as you both finally looked down at the ring inside the box.

“Oh my god, Ky.” You gasped, allowing him to take your left hand in his. “It’s gorgeous.”

His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he kissed your ring finger before sliding on the band, fitting perfectly.

“They’re the same diamonds.” He explained, referring to your first engagement ring while you took in every detail of your newest and most permanent piece of jewelry. “It didn’t feel right to give you the same ring but I couldn’t get rid of it, so...” 

He had spent months with a designer figuring out the different cuts and bands to symbolize a second beginning for an eternity with you.

“It’s perfect.”

You both stood together, heads leaning into each other until the trees turned to shadows. The moon's faint blue light provided no guidance for finding your way back to the car, yet neither of you grew any concern over it, finding security in entwined fingers and shared laughter.

Seven years later

“I’m definitely balding.” Kylians voice echoed from the hallway over the soft music playing.

You shake your head with a chuckle, arms tired from rolling and kneading a ball of dough. “No you’re not. You’ve been looking at the back of your head too much, hun.”

He saunters into the kitchen holding his phone out at arms length toward you. “Look.” You stare at his screen displaying an awkwardly self-taken picture of the crown of his head, only slightly less hair on the top than a couple years ago. “See?”

You shrug at him as he continues to analyze the image, pinching it to zoom in. “I think the back of your head looks just as handsome as the day I met you.”

He clicks his tongue, setting the phone down as if that’ll make him stop thinking about his inevitable aging. Kylian leans against the counter next to you, obviously eyeing the strawberries you’d just washed inside a bowl in the sink.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even think about it.” You read his intentions, Kylian being a notorious and shameless ingredient thief.

A playful smirk found its way to his lips as his hand inched closer to the pile of fruit, watching and waiting for the reaction that he craved to get from you.

“Kylian…” You warned in a whiney tone as he snatched one by the stem, bringing it to his grinning lips. He made a whole show of taking a bite of it, humming and closing his eyes like it’s the best thing he had ever tasted, even rubbing his belly comically for dramatic effect. You sigh, biting back a grin that would only fuel his shenanigans. “I’m gonna have to start putting out decoy ingredients covered in hot sauce, or something.”

He smiles wider, showing off the creases in his face that are now permanent. Though he felt insecure at times about his aging skin that portrayed wrinkles even in his most relaxed state, you couldn’t love them more — a souvenir from decades of laughing and happiness. Proof of a joyous life. It’d formed your semi-new habit of kissing the crows feet at the corners of his eyes, loving how it made them more prominent as he’d grin at the simple act of adoration.

Kylian extends the other half of his bitten fruit to your mouth, feeding you the rest of the strawberry, feeling your lips brush against the pads of his fingers.

You hummed at the sweet juice, savoring the flavor. “I don’t know how your mom’s strawberries always taste so perfect.”

“I’m pretty sure she gives us the best ones.”

“She’s so cute.” You praise, washing the flour off your hands. “When are they getting here, again?”

Kylian looks at his watch. “Uh, like seven, I think.”

You nod, seeing that you’re cutting it close on timing to finish the tart, but it should give it enough time to chill once the crust is cooled off. Kylian made himself a snack as you put the crust in the oven, immediately beginning the clean up of the mess you've made with a big sigh.

While munching on a sandwich, your husband helped you by putting away the refrigerated items. You’d gotten used to the little things after all these years, like him cleaning the kitchen with you. He hated cleaning but simple things like that show love and respect. He never expected gratitude when he did these things, but you always showed him anyway.

Sometimes, you'd get to thinking about all the small acts like those that add up to keep you both feeling like equals in the relationship. Your heart just fills up, usually leading to you roughly grabbing Ky’s face and smushing your lips to his cheek, dramatically smacking loud kisses onto him with a flooding wave of appreciation for your significant other. It’d take him by surprise at the most random of times, but looked forward to your next smooch attack every time. When you’d get to looking at him for too long, sentiments you’ve collected through the years take over your brain like wildfire, needing to express your love in some physical manner before you explode. 

Kylian’s more immediate with his affections. He’d have one thought and would have to share it with you that instant. Ranging from easy compliments when he’d wake up before you, claiming “I love your nose” from the deepest part of his soul; to “you’re really turning me on right now” when you ran your hands down his chest post-shoulder rub after his training. His affections poured out of him into you.

You hummed along to the music mindlessly, songs you haven’t heard in years shuffled on your mass playlist. The beat had your hips moving and head bobbing as you began wiping down the counter, but you found yourself grinning down at the marble when the soft piano began to play through the speaker.

“I haven’t listened to this in forever.” You mumbled, not looking up to see your husband trying to contain his smile behind you at the familiar and lovely tune. 

Kylian pressed two warm hands at your hips, kissing your cheek from behind you. “Me neither.” He slowly swayed your movements to sync with his, moving his hands to wrap around your stomach loosely. “You know, I almost cried when we danced to this at our wedding.”

“Yes, I know.” You giggle, collecting some crumbs on your hand and tossing them in the sink next to you, wiping your palms with a rag. “You’re a big softie.”

Though the version you had at the wedding was much different than the original, the words still rang true. The lyrics to La Vie en Rose begin to take over the kitchen.

“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche. Voilà le portrait sans retouches de l'homme auquel j'appartiens” A gaze that makes me lower my own, a laugh that is lost on his lips. That is the un-retouched portrait of the man to whom I belong.

“Dance with me.” He whispers, stretching his fingers over the material of your shirt.

You chuckle like a schoolgirl, looking down to try and hide your love-struck timidness. “You’re so cheesy, Ky.”

“I don’t care.” He walks your bodies away from the counter, turning you around to show you his dimpled face, looking absolutely content to just be there with you. “I want to dance with my beautiful wife.”

You gaze up at him like he hung the moon, already over yourself as you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him pull you close by the small of your back.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d'amour. Des mots de tous les jours, mais moi, ça me fait quelque chose.” When he takes me into his arms, He speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose-colored glasses. He speaks words of love to me. They are everyday words, but they do something to me.

He touches his forehead to yours, closing his eyes just for a second before lending them back to you. The eyes that made you feel seen so many years ago are making you feel seen, still. 

Some fights and rough patches you thought you could never get over… but you could. You did. Sure, time heals all wounds and all, but earning forgiveness takes a lot out of a relationship. Both of you had to set aside your own agendas and get over useless spurts of bitterness, grudges; forcing yourself to put aside your pride because your heart just can’t go on without the other. Love isn’t about forgetting mistakes, but growing past them together. Love is about mutual respect and security. Having a companion through it all. It’s about commitment and feeling safe in that commitment. Allowing them to see the lowest lows and trusting that they’re right there with you. 

“Il est entré dans mon cœur. Une grande part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie.” A bit of happiness that I know the cause of. It's only him for me, and for me, only him, for life. He told me, he swore to me, for life. 

You nuzzled your face into his chest, letting your arms wrap completely around him as he did the same. To be loved by him was fulfilling and exhilarating and placid and right. The feeling of your family home, familiar in ways you can't describe but can only experience through the nostalgia of fond memories. 

You didn’t even need to say the words anymore. You both just knew. Always. 

The song ends and Kylian pulls his head into the crook of your neck, needing to feel the crinkle of your skin when he places his kiss there, smiling dopily when he gets his wish. “Mon coeur.” My heart. His breath tickles you more when he whispers into you, but you just hug him tighter, feeling your devotion for him heighten in every nerve in your body.

You scratch your fingernail on the spot you have been for over a decade. The reaction not as prominent anymore. Not as it was when you were only a young couple, but it meant more to both of you than just a reaction. It was a form of saying I love you, that you know him just as he knows you, that your affection for him still lives in you just as strong as your fidelity. 

He puffs out some air with his giggle, feathering your neck again with the sudden gust as he pulled back just to take another look at you, brushing his nose with yours. 

He places his hands on your stomach once more, looking down at them as he caressed the tiny forming bump. “Number two can’t get here fast enough.”

“You can’t call it number two when they're born.” You say, voice soft to match his. “Especially not around Meline. She already has only child syndrome and she’s barely three.”

“My baby Meli is perfect.” He defends instantly. 

You shake your head, pulling away from his warm embrace. “That girl really has you wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

“She got that from you, didn’t she?” He always knew how to make you blush, even after all this time.

Kylian was head over heels for his daughter. They were attached at the hip, similar in so many ways that it frightened you. She looked just like him despite everyone saying she got your nose and smile. It was the eyes. The dark chocolaty brown, the deep set almond shape that caught the attention of anyone in their line of vision. You knew you were in trouble when you caught the first glimpse of them after she was born, already finding it difficult to say no to Kylian when he’d bat his lashes at you. Now there were two of them, getting away with their tomfoolery like masterminds, abusing their built in god-given charm. 

A nice shower and some quick tidying up later, you realized that your crust was fully cooled and you hadn't even started on the filling yet. It sat on a rack that you eyed as you finished off the pear salad. 

It’s any second now until Fayza and Wilfried arrive with Ethan to bring Meline back home. It was nice that she got to spend so much time with her grandparents. They’d pick her up in the morning and drop her off at night, sometimes she’d beg to stay at her pépé and mamis house.

Planting roots in Paris was the best decision you both could have made for your family. Kylian had explored different teams, different cities, but when you found out you were pregnant the first time around, Kylian made sure that the family had a steady base under their feet.

Kylian was marinating the chicken thighs as the grill out on the patio warmed up. You giggled as you watched him through the window, sporadically swatting at a bee that buzzed around him. It kept coming back for as long as he was out there, visibly spooking and frustrating him when it got too close to his ears.

“Stupid bee.” Kylian mumbled under his breath as he walked back in, tongs in one hand, a dirty dish in the other.

“Hello!” You hear Ethan's familiar voice bounce through the home, three sets footsteps clicking closer until the family appeared in the kitchen. Meline squealed when she saw you two, wiggling out of Ethan's arms as she reached out as far as she could for one of you to take her. 

“Mon canard!” My duckling! Kylian cooed out her nickname as he clattered the dishes in the sink to whisk her out of his brother's arms, kissing her cheek repetitively as she giggled.

You greeted your in-laws and Ethan with big smiles and hugs, taking Mel's overnight bag from Fayza. “Was she good today?” You ask as you lean over to Kylian to plant a big smooch on your daughter's chubby little hand. “Were you good for pépé and mami?” You direct it playfully at the toddler.

“I was! I pwomise!” Mel claims almost defensively, balling Kylian's grilling apron into her small fist. Everyone giggles at her. She immediately won everyone over, bringing a bright light of joy to any room she was in. “Me an’ Teetin even did clean up time.” 

Teetin is what she calls Ethan. When she was first learning to talk, Ethan constantly crowded her, trying to make her say “Oncle Ethan” since she had referred to everyone else as some sort of coherent name for days at that point. One day, she blabbered “Teetin” and he went nuts, boasting about how he finally got her to say his name. Turns out, she was saying “teetee”, as in, she was teetee-ing her diaper while he held her on the sofa. The nickname stuck, though Kylian called him piss baby for the following month.

“Yes, she was an angel, as always.” Fayza confirmed, still making googly eyes at Meli. 

You set the table outside with the help of Fayza, serving iced tea and chatting with her. Kylian and Wilfried stood together by the grill and Ethan and Meline rolled around on the grass, your baby girl giggling so joyously it warmed your heart. 

Crap, the tart.

“I’ll be right back out.” You mumble to Fayza and speed walk back in, getting all the ingredients out to make the filling, pretending you’ll be okay if it doesn’t fully chill like it’s supposed to. You’ll just have to pretend you’re okay with the tart not being firm. It was a sudden frantic feeling that hit you as you stood alone in the kitchen, overwhelmed by the raw ingredients in front of you.

Kylian was posted up at the grill with his dad, talking football as usual when he felt a tug on his jeans. He looks down at his little girl with wide eyes.

“I have t’ go teetee.” She disclaims, bouncing slightly. 

“Okay, mon canard, let’s go.” He scoops her up in his arms, feeling like they should move fast after seeing her potty dance, a tell-tale sign she waited too long to ask. “Give the thighs another minute or two before you take them off.” He instructs his father, handing him the tongs before walking back inside.

She was off of diapers and was usually good at not having any accidents, but lord knows once that little girl gets distracted, tinkle time gets pushed to the back of her to-do list.

He walks past you in the kitchen, you give him a knowing look as he scurries into the bathroom, getting her on the toilet just as she began to fuss about not being able to hold it anymore. 

“Remember, Meli, let papa know as soon as you gotta teetee, ‘kay?” He reminds her as he holds her up to the sink so she can wash her own hands. 

“Okay.” She promises, but Kylian knows her well enough to deduct that this will still happen every day. Even if you ask her if she needs to go potty she’ll say no because it’s not about to burst out. 

Ky and Mel walk out of the bathroom hand in hand into the kitchen. You were almost frantically mixing together your ingredients, puffing hair out of your face. “Need some help, maman?” Kylian questions.

“Um,” you look around at the cluttered countertop. “yes, please. Can you slice these?”

Kylian smirks as you hand him the bowl of strawberries. “It’ll cost you one strawberry, mon amour.” You give him a warning look. “We’ll share it.” He points to his daughter making grabby hands at the fruit.

“Pick a small one.”

He did not. 

Kylian picked out the biggest one in there, making sure you were too distracted with mixing your concoction than on the cheeky pair. Kylian cut the berry, handing his daughter the bigger half as she sat on the counter, legs dangling down and swinging back and forth as she sucked on the sweet fruit. It was an effective distraction from begging Kylian to let her help with the slicing. No knives for her just yet.

Kylian saw the look on your face, brows furrowed. You seemed distraught as you added the jam into the bowl, hands almost shaking. “Relax, bebe. You okay?” 

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m good.” You fake smile. “Allll good over here.”

He raises his brows, not believing you at all. He wiped his hands and put Meline back on her own two feet, leaning down to her level. “Meli, baby, go show grandma your strawberry.” He whispers. She nods, running back through the open door to the patio. Kylian watches as she holds the strawberry up to his mother, a wash of pride taking over his body for his baby girl.

Then, he walks right next to you where you were beginning to sweat from the vicious manner of mixing. He places his hand over yours holding the spatula, taking it off of the utensil. 

“Kylian, come on. I have to finish this tart.” You whine, upset at him for making you stop. 

“Relax.” He soothes as you try and break free from his grip.

“I am relaxed.” You groan. “Just let me finish this tart.”

“Forget the tart. This isn't about the tart.” He points, effectively taking your attention away from your mixing bowl, though you weren't happy with him about it. “Tell me what’s wrong. What are you thinking right now?”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as if it would clear your mind. “I think…” You stop, toying with his fingers as you look down at them. “I think I’m just a little freaked out about having another baby.”

Kylian hums, then goes quiet. You seemed so excited the first time you found out. He remembered how you jumped in his arms when the two lines showed up on the pregnancy test, how you’d already begun decorating their room, how many baby name books you’d gotten out of storage and kept on your nightstand. 

“Freaked out how?” He gently asks.

“I don’t know… just... yeah, just forget it." You grab the spatula again. "Because I really do have to finish this tart or else we won’t have dessert. It’s already going to suck because it won’t have time to cool and your mom always loves my desserts but this time she’ll hate it and I’ve been planning this since she gave us these strawberries but now it won’t even go how I thought it would. So, now, you’re all just gonna pretend to love it, but I know it's gonna be soggy and it won’t be firm and it’ll be embarrassing, so please. Just help me finish it quickly. Please.” You rant mindlessly, roughly folding the mixture together. 

Kylian's eyes are wide as he watches you. He had no idea you’d been carrying this worry about another baby but he’s seeing it simmer out of you, hoping you won’t blow your top completely. 

Slowly and silently, Kylian stands next to you once more, slicing the berries into slim pieces one by one. He lets the silence sit for a little to let you calm down and gather your actual thoughts before he speaks again.

“I’m a little freaked out, too.” 

You look up for only a second and look back down. “...You are?”

“Sure.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I mean, I'm excited, yes. But babies are a lot of work. Meli didn’t make it easy on us. Remember, she was such a night owl and wanted us with her all the time. She would literally cling onto us in the rocking chair to make sure we wouldn’t leave. Oh, and remember how scared of leaves she was for a couple of months? That sucked. Also balloons... God, that birthday party was a nightmare.” He recalled. These stories send a grin to your face as you wondered where the time went. She was so big and only getting bigger every day. Soon, she wouldn’t even need your help to reach things on the table or tying her shoes. 

“I can’t believe she’s three.” You sigh, tasting the filling and feeling your shoulders relax when you realized the consistency and taste was just right. Kylian finished slicing, now leaning against the counter to continue the conversation.

“She already told me what she wants for her next birthday.” He scoffed and you shook your head. Her third birthday was only last month. “A real life purple hippopotamus. But it has to be tiny enough for her to hold it.” You laugh at her request as you begin filling the crust. “She has a name for it already, too.”

“Oh, does she? I bet I can guess it. Monsieur purple hippo?” 

“Close.” He laughs. “Monsieur petite purple hippo.”

“That’s a mouthful, but very on brand for her.” You point out, scraping the last bits from the bowl. You begin to place the berry slices neatly on top of the tart, much calmer and relaxed. Your hands weren't even shaking anymore.

Kylian kissed your temple sweetly, helping you put the finishing layer on. “It’ll all work out. I promise. It’s scary, but nothing our family can’t handle.”

Your heart swells. He’s so right for you. The way he easily noticed and eased your racing mind made you focus on your left ring finger, feeling the weight of the bands that wrapped around it. They’ve been on for so many years that it just feels like part of your body, not uncommon to overlook their beauty or forget the promises they hold in your daily life. But it's simple moments like these that you remember the words engraved on them. Always pressed against your skin, never failing to stay close to you. Mon cœur t'appartient was the promise he’s kept for years, and you have as well. My heart is yours. 

Though you thought you messed up your dessert, you now look down at the finished product, and it’s perfect.

Dinner went long, caught up in conversations and hilarious stories that embarrassed Ethan and Kylian. You looked around at the family you’re a part of, physically feeling the love from every single one of the humans sitting under the dim shine of the string lights in the gazebo. With good food and better people, time slips too quickly. 

Life is short, moments graze by like a freight train passing a station. You never know what could happen tomorrow, the future is in no one's hands. Things can happen in the snap of a finger. You say your last goodbye without even knowing. You can wish to control the clock. You can wish that you could turn it back and do some things differently. You can wish you could jump forward and prepare for what’s to come. But all this wishing would do is drive you insane, because everyone lacks control when it comes to time. Appreciate the moment. Live in it. Dwelling on the negative will only comfort the pessimist that lives inside of you. Worrying about the future will only hold you back from the journey you take to get there.

So, for now, you sit sipping wine in front of empty plates while your daughter slowly falls asleep on your husband's shoulder, your mother in law's sweater drapes over your cold legs, the stars are left alone to shine brightly without a cloud in sight. Everything was just as it should be. Everything will be okay.

All this escaped time allowed for your dessert to chill. 

Finally, your tart was finished.

A/N: Officially the end of this fic, and if I do say so myself, it's satisfying. I had so much writers block through this so I'm sorry I haven't updated in over a week. I wanted to make sure this one was good after all the love that I got from this fic. Love you all so much! Thank's for reading!

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