#lots and lots to do. i finally found my glasses again so maybe i will get a few less headaches now!!

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F Chap 3

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I wanna say this real quick before this gets any deeper. This fic was my first, so I didn't know a whole lot about Batman and the Batfam? I'm not gonna change anything about it cuz growth and progress and shit like that (also I cringe looking at these first few chapters...) but I know a lot more about the DC verse now and I know some of this to be wildly inaccurate or OOC. I'm not apologizing. I just thought you should know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Galaxies on the brain, Dick wallows in the pain

Sore.

That's all Tim could feel. Sore and tired and heavy and cold. He could feel warm hands (weren't they supposed to be cold?) Holding him by the shoulders and knees. Something soft meets his back and he falls deeper into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim wakes up with a groan. His arm ached like he'd hung by Dick's trapeze for too long, his face felt itchy, and every time he took a breath his chest burned. His eyelids felt like lead and his head filled with cotton, he absently wondered what day he was on of no sleep when he'd finally collapsed.

As his thoughts swam the contents of the previous night (nights? How long was he asleep for?) Started to bubble to the surface of his consciousness. The stakeout, the full-bodied chill and his missing bug leading to the warehouse, sounds of gunshots and a closeup with a steel grey roof. After that, things get fuzzier. He remembered… Green, and white hair? Then an image of a galaxy came to him and he wondered if maybe he really had died.

Something to his right rustled and he struggled to pry open an eye enough to see. Dick was slumped in a chair next to his bed (when did he get to a bed?) reading over what seemed to be police reports. Tim tried to speak but when he went for air he came up in a coughing fit.

Dick's head snapped to attention as his little brother, now awake, tried to hack up what was left of his lung.

"Hey! Hey, Tim, you're okay. You're in the medbay in the Batcave. Calm down and try not to breathe too deeply okay?" Dick soothed as he reached for the glass of water with a straw Alfred had left for when Tim woke up.

As he watched his little brother get his breathing under control and take a small sip from the cup offered Dick felt his nerves settle for the first time that night. His brother was awake. Awake meant alive. Hurt, but alive. He settled back into his chair and shook out a relieved sigh.

"What are you doing here?" Even with the water Tim's voice sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks.

"I said I'd be in Gotham for the weekend, didn't I? I got the call from your comm and picked you up from the warehouse district."

"Call?" Tim's voice cracked with confusion. "I don't remember sending a distress signal…" He trailed off as another hacking cough wracked through his frame. Dick held out the glass again and Tim gratefully took a longer drink.

"… What do you remember from last night?" Dick asked tentatively.

"I remember… the stakeout, my tracker going missing and following the signal to a warehouse by the docks…" Tim gasped, then cringed as the motion sent a jolt of pain down his front.

"I remember the thieves," he ground out. "I'd found their base of operations… but I was sloppy, I didn't notice one of the goons come up behind me until I'd already knocked him over. Then shit hit the fan… I remember making it out, and running, then I guess I got shot? It gets fuzzy from there…" He huffs, shaking the flashing images of white hair and swirling nebulas clear from his sleep addled mind.

He looks over to see Dick with a serious yet contemplative expression, looking down at the bedrest between them and nothing at all.

Curious and weary, Tim mutters a raspy "Why? Something happen?"

Dick seems to mull something over before shaking his head and looking up with a tired smile.

"Nothing serious enough to discuss right now. Why don't you get some more sleep Timmy? God knows you could use it."

Tim wanted to protest, he really did! But the sound of the heart monitor and that strangely familiar buzzing was already restuffing his head with cotton and his eyelids were getting heavier. That feeling of calm and safe washed over him again, sleep quickly following it. He nodded sluggishly and dove back into dreamland with his last thought ringing in his head; 'huh, the buzz sounds more like a purr now.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was not freaking out. He wasn't! He was completely fine with being in the freaking Batcave because he was a hero too. Totally normal.

The sound that wanted to escape his throat was not a squeal. Anyone that told you it was is a liar. 

As he floated through the stalactites (stalagmites? He slept through that particular science class.) He had to physically stop himself from dropping his invisibility and glowing with the force of a neutron star. He was in the Batcave! Tucker and Sam would totally freak over this when he told them. Tucker would have an aneurysm over half the tech he'd seen since getting here (not that he wouldn't already have an aneurysm over him not checking in over the last three days) and Sam would have a field day with the aesthetic of the place. He didn't dare stray too far from his—(not his, no, that's not right) the vigilante he's protecting, which was, in fact, Timothy Drake-Wayne??

He has so many questions.

Like, why was Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprise, going around at night as Red Robin?? Not that he thinks it's wrong, or anything. Danny just feels like that's a lot of stress to have on a teenager's shoulders.

He knows from experience.

The fact that he's also seen Nightwing out of costume, as well as Robin, Orphan, and spoiler with their masks off has Danny feeling like he's seen them practically naked. Because, come on, Damian Wayne was Robin, Orphan was Cassandra Wayne, and Dick Grayson was Nightwing? He'd basically just learned Gotham's richest socialite family all lived double lives as superheroes! If he wasn't already fangirling about being in the Batcave ('the freaking Batcave, ancients end him!') he'd be rolling in his grave laughing and crying from the irony.

Kicking off the nearest stalagmite (stalactite? Still no clue) he floats back down to hover just above the main floor housing the Bat Computer (!!!) with Dick Grayson talking to someone on the other end.

"-have listened to him when he first brought it up a week ago, now he's in a hospital bed! Barbara what am I going to do, I feel like this is all my fault." He watched as Dick (Nightwing? Mr. Grayson?) slumped down in his seat and put his face in his hands. That faraway stare listlessly gazing at the keyboard through slits in his fingers.

Before he could startle the man out of his train of thought the woman from the other end of the call—Barbara, he remembered—spoke up.

"You know you can't blame yourself too badly for that, Dick. While the ribbing may have gone a bit further than you'd have liked, you couldn't have been able to save Tim from getting shot. You were still at least an hour outside the city limits when Tim went to follow the lead his… friend gave him." The way she said 'friend' told Danny she still didn't quite believe in his existence yet, and he was okay with that. As long as Red Robin—Tim?—knew he was there to help, he could let the other members of the batclan think he wasn't real.

A loud groan escapes the older man as he leans back to look at the ceiling of the cave.

"I know Babs," he bemoans, "But I still can't get those thoughts out of my head!" He reached up to message his temples with one hand as silence fills the cave. This time Danny is able to help his friends(?) brothers' turmoil by blowing a bit of frost out and directing it to the back of Dick's hand.

Startled, Dick's head whips around to either side of him, spinning the chair around to face away from the bat computer with a wary gaze before slowly rotating back. He stared at his hand, the one that had previously been nursing his headache and the one that had been covered in frost.

At least, he thought it was.

Dick recalls when Alfred had first pulled off Tim's first aid bandages. He hadn't even changed out of his gear, needing to see the extent of the damage to his little brother, only to watch as green tinged blue ice was revealed to be keeping him together. The ice kept the hole from tearing and bacteria from entering his punctured lung. Alfred shared a look with Dick, confirming that he wasn't the only one seeing the strange ice. As they tried to touch the ice though -get a sample for analysis- it, along with the glove being used as a tourniquet, sublimated away to mist. Leaving the now gaping wound in his brother's side and arm to weep blood, slow and thick.

He left for the showers after that. Better to let a professional patch his brother up than someone with shaking hands and blurry vision.

"Do you think Tim's imaginary friend is a meta?" The words escaped Dick's lips before he'd realized he'd thought them. Refocusing as he heard Babs hum pensively.

"With what you've told me about the magic ice that sealed Tim's wounds, it's possible," she mused. The soft tapping if a keyboard registered on the mic as she pulled something up

"The thing is though, there aren't any registered or rumoured metas with an ice-like powerset in or around Gotham. If there were, we'd be seeing more of them somewhere, ice power sets tend to be flashier." More tapping, then a pained huff came through the speakers.

"It doesn't help that I can't seem to restore Tim's footage from after he fell off the roof," she grumbles.

"What do you mean 'can't restore it'? Even with his mask torn the way it was, the cameras in the lenses should've been working fine."

"That's the thing though! His mask only cut after he fell, it was working perfectly up till that point, then this static whine comes on over the audio and the video glitches out before cutting to static until you find him. It wasn't a signal jammer or EMP, both would do damage to more than just his camera, and a jammer would leave a trace of interference." Her groan echoes through the cave, bringing a small smile to Dick's face as she continues.

"The comm too, if something had tampered with it I'd be able to tell! And yet there's no evidence of tampering and I have a recording of some almost unintelligible mess of a voice talking to us over the main line. Right beside ours that come over with perfect clarity. It just doesn't make sense!"

A chuckle couldn't help but escape Dick's lips as Babs let out a defeated huff on her end. Glancing back towards the medbay he recalled the few times Tim tried to tell him about his patrol companion.

"A snowflake in September," he mumbled pensively, gaze sinking down to his hand again. Then with sudden clarity, he whipped his head up and scanned the Batcave more closely than before, squinting up into the dark corners of the high ceiling.

At one point Danny thought Dick had caught him somehow, the odd cold spot in the area. His shoulders sagged in quiet relief when the vigilantes' eyes swept over where he was floating.

A cold spot in a cold cave isn't odd, after all, and the sensors weren't displaying anything unusual.

Dick glanced back to his hand one more time before turning back to the bat computer and telling Barbara he'd give her an update on Tim's situation in the morning. Saying their 'sleep well's' Danny watched as Dick shut off the giant computer, checked in on Tim one more time then headed to the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim woke up quicker than he had previously. The smell of breakfast wafted to the medbay even from all the way upstairs and his stomach rolled in hunger. Something cold was sitting over Tim's wound, pressing into it but strangely not hurting him in any way. The cold felt familiar, comfortably cool but not chilling, and he could faintly make out a low hum -purr?- coming from somewhere to his left. He cracked one eye open to see both what was in him and the origin of the purr, when the pressure on his wounds released. The lightness around his shoulder probably meant there was another cold comforting thing there he hadn't noticed before. Prying both eyes open fully he looked around the small patient room and realized the purring had stopped and that he was alone. He wasn't awake enough yet to wonder why that was strange, just happy when he heard the ding of the elevator open.

Someone in the Batcave meant he could get some food, after all.

Dick poked his head into Tim's room a few seconds later, a bowl of what appeared to be Cream of Wheat in his hand. He gave a smile, seeing his little brother awake, and let his body follow his head into the room. Setting the bowl down on a pull out table for Tim, Dick chipperly asked "how are you feeling, Timbo?"

"Like I decided taking Bane one-on-one was a good idea," he groaned. Sitting up enough so he could eat, he watched Dick give a half-hearted chuckle while staring into the mid-distance. Half remembering the conversation he had with his older brother last night while spooning the warm cereal into his mouth, he looked around and sarcastically commented between bites, "sooo, you gonna tell me what was on your mind when I woke up before? Or do I have to figure it out myself?"

The comment startled Dick more than it should have, and as Tim frowned at the reaction Dick turned his head, his gaze sweeping the room before he spoke.

"That imaginary friend of yours," Tim cut his brother off with another groan.

"If you're still going to make fun of me for that-" Dick raised his hand, trying to pacify the conversation before he could finish.

"Don't worry Timmers, I believe you now. I should have believed you when you brought it up the first time and I'm sorry for that."

Tim almost groaned again when he felt the tension drop from his shoulders, jostling his arm. He wiggled in his bed to readjust himself before allowing Dick to continue.

"I was going to ask if you knew anything more about them. They've been following you around for a month, right? Do you know if they pose any risk to you or the family?"

Tim shoved another spoonful of the gruel into his mouth, it was bland, but it gave him something to distract him from the fact that Dick had steamrolled over an actual apology and went straight to business.

Shaking his head as he swallowed his mouth full down, he began.

"While I don't know much other than they can apparently make ice from nothing and make things glow, I can say they don't have any ill intent. They saved me Dick, after I fell from the roof they caught me and… I think they got the guys chasing me off my back."

He ignored the images of a black-clad white-haired figure flitting through his mind with another mouth full of cereal.

Dick sighed, none of the bats liked not knowing things about what's happening to them, but the fact that the entity following Tim saved him from a bad fall released some tension from the older birds shoulders.

"So you don't think it would do anything to hurt you? I need to make sure, Tim."

They both shivered as a sudden chill filled the room. Pretending not to notice Tim answered, "no, I don't think the thing that's been following me on patrols, helping me with cases, protecting me for a month would hurt me now after all this time."

Was it weird Tim thought that so surely? A little bit. But with the way the room warmed up just as quickly as it cooled had him realising that maybe he and his brother weren't the only ones in the room. Now that he focused, he could feel the quiet cold sitting behind him.

It had never followed him to the cave before.

'Shit.'

The implications of something potentially dangerous being able to make its way into the Batcave, a heavily protected and monitored fortress of a hideout had Tim shivering for a different reason. If B ever found out, he'd have Tim's neck.

He also realized he could hear the thing purring again. 'Like a big cat,' the thought made him huff a laugh, it certainly did seem like he'd taken in a stray, an invisible, cold, possibly monstrous stray, but a stray nonetheless. The purr grew louder to Tim following his laugh and that same feeling of safety washed over him again, like a blanket.

Tim turned around—really just craned his neck, he couldn't really move otherwise—to try to pinpoint where the purr was coming from exactly, but when he faced away from Dick the comfortable noise stopped dead. The feeling of safety stopped with it, making Tim wonder darkly if the creature was intentionally making Tim think it was safe to gain his trust. He pushed that thought away as soon as it came, if it did intend to hurt him, it would be Tim's fault for trusting it.

Turning back around he found Dick watching him. Mumbling a weak and slightly annoyed "what?" He shovelled another spoonful of the now room temperature cereal.

Dick shook his head. 'So the thing following Tim really did come back to the cave with us,' it didn't bode well for them to have a potentially dangerous sentient creature of unknown origin in the cave, but if his brother thought so highly of the thing, he supposed he could let it stay his secret for now. Dodging the question he drawled, "you know, there isn't any footage on your feed from after you slid off that roof."

The "what?" That came from his brother this time sounded less annoyed and more confused, so he counted that as a win.

"That doesn't make sense, my mask wasn't that badly damaged in my escape, or the display would have told me." He watched his brother's brow furrow in thought.

"Yeah, Babs is pulling her hair out because of it. Apparently after you go over this whine comes over the audio and both cut to static until I find you."

The faces his brother was making would be funny if he weren't so curious about it. Seeing his expression finally land on clarity Dick urged "you know what happened?"

"I think I do," Tim admitted. "I heard a buzzing… it didn't have any source that I can remember, so maybe that's what caused it?"

"A buzzing? That could be it, I didn't hear anything when I found you, so it lines up for when the feed comes back."

Noticing the bowl in front of Tim is now, in fact, empty, Dick figures that maybe now should be where he cuts the conversation. The voice over the comms can be addressed once his brother's gotten some more rest. He stands, takes the bowl from the table and turns to leave when he hears Tim mutter a quiet "wait."

Dick stops paces from the door and turns to face his brother. Tim seems to fight with himself for a moment before he ground out "thanks for believing me, finally."

He doesn't look up to see his older brother's reaction, but the smile could be heard in his voice.

"Of course, Tim, I'm sorry I didn't believe you sooner." With that said, he walks out feeling lighter, and yet with more questions than when he walked in.

Danny watches as Tim sinks into his bed, mindful of his injuries. The bats know about him, with that fact alone he should be leaving, yet even now his core urged him to stay and protect. 

He knows staying is only going to lead to trouble.

He doesn't want to leave.

Leaving means going back to that rundown dump of a townhouse he's been squatting in for the last three months, doing odd jobs around town during the day just to get a bit to eat (not that he needed to eat much with all the ambient ectoplasm in the air) and going back to looking over his shoulder for the GIW or, ancients forbid, his parents.

A soft "hey" breaks him out of his anxious thoughts, and looking over he sees Tim looking in his general direction. The goosebumps on his unbandaged arm tell Danny that he may have made the temperature dip again, unintentionally this time, and he makes a conscious effort to raise it back up to a more comfortable level.

"I know you're there." The sudden admittance made him jump, but Tim continued on, "I know what I saw last night was you. You saved me and I wanted to thank you. Not just for the save, but also the lead on the ghost thieves. For whatever reason you're reluctant to show yourself, and knowing some of my family you have every right to be, but maybe some sign you aren't just some hallucination or actual imaginary thing would be nice? I kinda feel like I'm talking to an actual ghost here." The last bit came out with a chuckle on both ends, Tim for how crazy he feels talking to an empty room and Danny for just how close Tim got with that quip.

Another internal struggle for Danny, oh joy. Revealing himself would be bad, but maybe something small? Tim already knows he makes ice to some capacity, and he's asking so nicely, Danny thought it wouldn't hurt, right?

On the table in front of Tim, where his bland breakfast previously rested a small statuette slowly materialized from condensing mist. Tim watched as the small mound of green tinged ice formed a base, then on nearly invisible supports a nebulous disk spread out. An icy galaxy sat before Tim, about as big as his hand, and it moved. Even after finishing its creation, the edges twisted and swirled in a continuous dance. He could see glittering stars and fluctuating nebulas as tiny clouds of glittering snow.

It was mesmerizing.

Reaching out to touch it, Tim was surprised at how solid it was. It was like touching compacted sand, if they had stuck the sand in an ice box overnight. Ever so gingerly he took the galaxy off its supports and cupped it in his hand. Despite it being made of ice entirely it gave off a strange warmth. It reminded Tim of holding a warm cup of coffee and relaxing with his family. He had to remind himself to breathe as he put the statuette back on its pedestal. The warmth lingered on his palm as he again searched for the cold spot.

It was right in front of him, and he could tell it was watching his reaction. Carefully, he reached out, like he'd done before on that night he'd decided to befriend the strange creature. Unlike before though, his fingers brushed against something. Fabric, he could feel it but there was still nothing to see. His hand slid down what must have been an arm before feeling a fisted hand just over the bed near his thigh. It was tense, and as the cold familiarity of the hand he was holding set in he realized the being sitting on the bed in front of him was afraid. He could feel the quiet anxiety coming off in cold waves, and he had to wonder what it was afraid of.

Tim shifted for better balance and the hand underneath his flinched. Was it… was it afraid of Tim? Afraid of what Tim would do if he knew it was real? That both did and didn't make sense. The being in front of Tim was powerful, he had no doubt it could level all of Gotham if it wanted to, and none of the bats would be able to stop it (not for lack of trying, of course) and yet it was afraid of Tim. Tim, the guys that practically lived off coffee and 5-hour energies, Tim the one that accidentally falls asleep at the batcomputer so regularly Alfred had a specific blanket tucked away just for him. That Tim.

The hand below his flexed again and he realized it must be waiting on an answer. With what he hoped was a reassuring pat to the back of the gloved hand before him, he smiled and snickered, "now, was that so hard?"

The fact that while the hand hadn't moved, the waves of anxious cold he felt warmed up had Tim cheer a silent victory. Trying to look in the direction of where the beings head could be, he continued.

"I get it if you don't wanna show yourself, I really do, but maybe you could keep me company? I probably got six to eight weeks laying in this bed, and I don't know about you, but I'll probably die of boredom before that's up." He chuckles, and going off of the way he feels the hand underneath him bounce, he guessed the thing in front of him does too.

"So yeah, you're welcome to stay, if you want. Maybe help me pull a prank or two, and I know that no matter what you are, you're going to love Alfred's cooking."

Well shit, Danny basically just got the go ahead to haunt the Wayne family, by one of the Waynes. He feels like he should be honoured? Sure the fact he doesn't want to go back to living in that stupid townhouse is another driving factor, but having a friend that doesn't mind his ghosty bits outside of Sam and Tucker sounds really appealing. It doesn't help that he's been really lonely.

Tim feels the hand slide out from under his. Before he can marvel at the fact they did it without making any sound, or mourn the loss of the comforting cold he watches as the galaxy statuette lifts off its base. The statuette hovers above the table for a few moments, then raises and dips repeatedly, straight up and down. Tim laughs at what could only be described as the floating statue nodding at him, before being set down on its base.

"Well I guess that settles it then," he laughs, "if you're going to be around more often, I'll need something to call you though." The room temperature takes a dive, not as cold as before, but still noticeable.

"Okay, I'm going to guess you either don't have a name, "the room temp doesn't change " or have a name but can't or don't want to say it." The room slowly warms up at that. So it has a name but can't use it. Tim can work with that.

"Well, how about I give you a name until you can tell me your real one? I'm not as good as Damian in naming things but I'm sure I can think of something." A hum heard and Tim begins to think of what he could call his new friend. Remembering the white hair he saw the night before and what was probably the same figure as a nebula had his eyes wandering to the statuette sitting prettily before him. So the being either likes space or space themed things (did it come from space? An actual alien? Just another thing to think about.) Trying to recall the knowledge he gained from the few times he's gone stargazing, a name pops into Tim's head that makes him want to laugh.

"How do you like the name Arcturus? If I remember right it's one of the brightest stars and it looks white when you see it in the sky."

The reaction he gets is instantaneous, a loud purr reverberates throughout the small room and this time Tim does laugh.

"I suppose that's as good of a 'yes' as I'll get. Good to finally meet you Arcturus." He holds out a hand before realizing that a handshake probably wasn't going to happen. Before he could take his hand back he felt the hand he was holding previously snake into his and grip it gently. He smiled and shook it, absently noting the claws he could feel poking at the back of his hand.

"I feel like this will be the start of a beautiful friendship," he grins.

A puff of frost in his face has him snort and grin in the direction of his new friend.

Yeah, this'll be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[satans-knitwear]

soft vintage look ✨

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[steddieas-shegoes]

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (three)

requested here; (one); (two)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (the duff inspired) word count: 5.4k

You hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen the other day.

It was supposed to be all part of the game, of the plan.

You just wanted to learn things properly. Right? But you knew, you had wanted it, and worse, you had liked it.

God, what the hell were you doing?

He was Rafe Cameron. Cocky, rich, your nightmare with a reputation that should have sent you running in the opposite direction. And yet, here you were, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours, wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled back. If you hadn’t let the spell break.

"Focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head like you could shake him off too. You had bigger things to worry about—like Nate.

Remember Nate? The whole point of this was to get him to notice you, to finally realize that you were more than just the girl he studied with. You weren’t supposed to be getting caught up with Rafe Cameron’s sudden vulnerability or, God forbid, catching feelings for him.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you turned down the street toward your apartment. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the thought of Rafe stayed with you for hours, sneaking its way back in every time you thought you’d pushed it out for good.

What was it about him, anyway? He was hot, sure. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was seeing something deeper. Like there was more to this than either of you were willing to admit. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were starting to want him to see more.

By the time you reached your door, you had spiraled enough to know you needed a distraction. So you did what any girl in your situation would do: you grabbed your phone and texted Harper back.

You: Movie night better include wine. Lots of wine.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Harper <3:  “Already taken care of, babe. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little better. It was exactly what you needed. Maybe after a few glasses of wine and some cheesy rom-coms, you’d finally stop thinking about that stupid kiss.

As you closed the door behind you and flopped onto your bed, your phone buzzed again. Expecting it to be Harper, you lazily reached for it, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Rafe’s name instead.

Rafe: got your notes ready for tomorrow? or should i just show up and charm my way through it?

You stared at the screen for a second, unsure whether to laugh or throw your phone across the room. Why did he always have to do this? Act like nothing had changed when everything felt different?

Not that you were any better.

Finally, you typed back.

You: “depends. can ur charm get you through an entire chapter on portuguese colonization?”

His reply came almost instantly. Like he’d been waiting for yours.

Rafe: “we both know my charm can get me through anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the stupid smile tugging at your lips.

You: “let’s not test that theory. see you tomorrow.”

You tossed your phone aside, willing yourself not to overthink the fact that just seeing his name pop up on your screen made your heart race.

You were going to get through this. Nate was your goal. This thing with Rafe was just a detour. A very distracting, very complicated detour that you’d handle... eventually.

But tonight? Tonight was for your girls, your movies, and drowning out the chaos in your head with as much wine as it took to stop thinking about blue eyes and stupid smirks.

Later that night, you found yourself sprawled out on Ava’s couch, surrounded by blankets and popcorn, watching some cheesy rom-com that Harper had picked out. The glow of the TV cast a soft light over the room, but your mind was still elsewhere. Even with your best friends beside you, laughing and making snide comments about the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It wasn’t just the kiss—although that had definitely been messing with your head lately—it was everything. The way he’d been acting, the things he’d said, the stupid nickname that you couldn’t seem to shake. Harper and Ava had a point, but they didn’t know Rafe like you did. Not anymore, at least. You’d seen sides of him recently that no one else had, and while you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, there was something there. Something more than just the cocky rich boy everyone saw.

You sighed, reaching for another handful of popcorn, but Harper, ever the perceptive one, caught the look on your face before you could hide it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging your leg with her foot. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Yeah, you’ve barely roasted this movie,” Ava added, throwing a piece of popcorn at you. “That’s not like you.”

You didn't want to get into it, “Just tired, I guess. Long day.”

Harper wasn’t buying it, though. She turned the volume on the TV down and sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, spill. This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

You groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Can we not talk about him ?”

“Nope,” Harper said, yanking the pillow away. “Not until you tell us what’s going on. I know a liar when I see one."

Busted.

“Did something happen?”

You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. They were your best friends, and you knew they only wanted what was best for you. But the whole thing with Rafe felt complicated, like more than just a stupid crush. Still, you couldn’t keep it all bottled up forever.

“Fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “There was... a kiss.”

Harper’s jaw practically dropped. “A kiss? With Rafe?”

“When did this happen?” Ava demanded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I was scared!” You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again as you thought back to that moment in the library, “He knew I never kissed anyone and offered.”

“Wait, what? Your first kiss was with Rafe freaking Cameron?”

Ava gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “He offered? What the hell does that even mean? Did he just, like, present his lips to you like some weirdo?”

You groaned, wishing you could shrink into the couch and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that, okay? We were talking, and it came up. I told him I hadn’t kissed anyone, and then he was all, ‘I can fix that,’ or something. It just... happened a few days later.”

“So, what was it like? Was it good? Did he use tongue? I need details, girl.”

Harper elbowed her. “Ava! Let her breathe, she’s clearly still processing.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more as you fidgeted with a loose string on your sweater. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was good, okay? Really good. But it’s Rafe, and now everything’s weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harper’s expression softened,  “Okay, I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You’ve hated Rafe for, like, ever, right? And now, all of a sudden, you’re kissing him? What about Nate?”

“I know!” you groaned again, throwing your head back against the couch.

Ava looked like she was about to explode. “So... do you like him? Because it sounds like you’re starting to like him.”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t supposed to like him. It wasn’t part of the plan. But then he had to go and be all... different. Like, he’s still Rafe, but sometimes he’s—I don’t know, sweet? Ugh, that sounds ridiculous.”

Harper sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Babe, if you’re getting all messed up over a guy like Rafe, this could be a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. You didn’t want to like Rafe. He was the last person you should be catching feelings for. 

“Guys like him? They’ll pull you in, mess with your head, and leave you confused as hell.”

“I know,” you said, hating how true that sounded. “But it’s not just that. There’s something else. Like, when we’re alone, he’s— I don’t know. He lets his guard down, and I see a side of him that I don’t think anyone else does. He's weirdly honest."

Harper raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not catching feelings?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t even know anymore. I thought this was just a stupid kiss, but now it feels like everything’s different. And it’s so dumb because I should be focused on Nate!"

Ava and Harper exchanged a glance, both of them looking concerned. Harper was the first to speak.

“Okay, maybe this is a sign you need to figure out what you really want. Do you want to keep chasing Nate, or... do you want to see where things go with Rafe?”

You blinked, the question hitting you harder than you expected. What did you want? Nate had always been the plan—nice, safe, uncomplicated Nate. 

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His stupid grin, the way he’d tease you but also get serious for like, two seconds, just long enough to make you question everything.

You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face, “This was a terrible mistake.”

Harper crossed her arms, studying you. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Call him.”

“What?!” You sat up, heart racing. “No way. I can’t just call him out of nowhere.”

“Yes, you can,” Ava chimed in, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here’s the test—if he picks up right away, it means he’s been thinking about you too. If he doesn’t? Then maybe he’s just playing games.”

You stared at them like they’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Are you guys serious? There’s no way I’m doing that. You're not serious."

Harper smirked, grabbing your phone off the table and holding it out to you. “Do it. Right now. Trust me, if he cares, he’ll pick up.”

What kind of fucked up science was that? Rafe? Liking you? It was ridiculous. There was no way. Not when he'd been with so many girls, kissed even more, and never gave you a second glance. You were just...there.

Your stomach twisted in knots. “What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m weird for calling at night? What if I just— explode from embarrassment?”

Ava waved her hand dismissively. “If he doesn’t answer, then you know where you stand. But if he does... well, that’s another story. And I highly doubt you’ll explode. Just call him and see.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your phone like it was about to bite you. It felt reckless, terrifying even. But you were curious too—what would happen if you actually did it? Would he care? Would he answer?

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the phone from Harper and quickly finding Rafe’s name in your contacts before you could change your mind.

Ava grinned, leaning in. “Ooh, this is gonna be good.”

“I thought you hated him—"

“Call him!”

You hit call, holding your breath as the phone rang once, twice—

And then, to your absolute horror, it stopped. He picked up.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice came through, “Everything okay?”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both staring at you like this was the most exciting thing to ever happen. You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes freaking out about calling him.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, cringing at how awkward you sounded. “I just... wanted to see if you were ready for tomorrow’s study session.”

Lame. So, so lame.

Rafe chuckled softly. “You called me at night to ask about studying? I didn’t know I was that irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

He laughed again, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Too late. Anyway, I’m ready for tomorrow. Was studying really the reason you called?”

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both nodding furiously, encouraging you to say something—anything that wasn’t study-related.

“Well... maybe not just that,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

There was a pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

There was another moment of silence, like you were both trying to figure out what to say next.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Rafe said, his voice a little lower, almost... warmer? “Night.”

“Night,” you replied, and then the call ended.

You dropped your phone onto the couch, staring at it like it had just turned into a bomb.

Harper squealed. “He picked up right away! And he was flirty! Oh my God, he likes you!”

Ava clapped her hands, bouncing on the couch. “I knew it! He’s totally into you. Nevermind what we said earlier. Rafe Cameron is into you. We were wrong. Scratch the whole 'he’s just messing with your head' thing. He’s definitely catching feelings.”

You scowled, “Where’s your backbone? Five minutes ago, you were all, ‘Rafe’s trouble, don’t fall for it,’ and now you’re practically shipping us?”

Harper shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, but that was before he picked up right away and sounded all soft. That’s different, babe.”

“Exactly!” Ava chimed in. “Nate who?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. He’s... safe. And uncomplicated. Why am I even entertaining this idea of Rafe?”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Because safe doesn’t make your heart race. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you stay up all night overthinking. If you were so into Nate, you wouldn’t be calling Rafe at night. Or letting him kiss you!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. They had a point, as annoying as it was. Nate might’ve been the goal, but Rafe was what had your head spinning. You groaned again, flopping back against the couch.

Sure, maybe he’d been acting a little off lately. Like, sometimes he’d actually ask you how your day was or show up when he knew you’d be around. You didn’t think much of it, though. That’s just how it was with guys like Rafe—he probably wanted something, or maybe he was just bored.

You huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s just so stupid. He’s Rafe. He’s... ugh, he’s complicated, and I don’t even know if he’s serious, or if he’s just bored, or what. And now I’ve kissed him, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and—”

“And now you’re realizing that maybe Nate isn’t what you really want after all,” Harper finished.

You sighed, hugging a pillow to your chest. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He’d flirt, he’d flash that stupid grin, and then he’d move on like nothing ever happened. Why would you be different? 

“Easy. You figure out what you want. Not what Nate wants, not what Rafe wants. You. And until then, just... enjoy. No one said you had to decide everything right now.”

Harper nodded in agreement, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. Take it slow. And for tonight, let’s just not overthinking every little thing, okay?”

Yet, you thought about him all night. You’d seen the way he treated other girls. He’d throw them those lazy smiles, the ones that practically screamed I’ll forget your name by tomorrow, and it always seemed to work.

They all fell for it—why wouldn’t they? Rafe was good at getting what he wanted, and he never stuck around long enough for things to get messy. You? You were invisible up until recently. He only paid attention when he felt like pissing you off. Your friends had to be reading too much into things.

This was Rafe. The same Rafe who was impossible to figure out, who never took anything seriously—least of all you. There was no way he liked you. 

But the next day came way too fast, and you were paying for it. Hard.

You groaned as you dragged yourself into the library, sunglasses on like they were going to somehow shield you from the pounding headache.

Harper and Ava had insisted on one more glass of wine, which of course, turned into two. And now, you were here, praying Rafe wouldn’t notice that you felt like death.

As you slumped into the chair across from him, he immediately raised an eyebrow, “Rough night?”

You gave him a look, your head already throbbing too much for his sarcasm. “Don’t even start, Cameron.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your state. “Wow, I can smell the regret from here. You look like you partied with a bottle of tequila and lost.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was wine, thank you very much. And yeah, it was a little too much.”

He chuckled softly, flipping open his notebook. “A little? You look like you just survived a war zone. Was the study session that boring to look forward to?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” you muttered, wincing as you reached for your bag. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying every second of it. “I’m impressed you made it at all. Should I have brought a bucket? You know, just in case?”

You glared at him from behind your sunglasses. “I hate you so much right now.”

Rafe just grinned, unfazed. “Trust me, it’s mutual. But seriously, you need water or something? You’re about two seconds away from face-planting on that table.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Still, your mouth felt like a desert, and the thought of anything cold and hydrating sounded like heaven.

“Maybe… a coffee?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? No?”

“You’re not drinking coffee before you eat.”

You squinted at him, thoroughly annoyed. “Rafe, I’m hungover, not five years old.”

He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not swayed.

“Hungover means your brain’s working even worse than normal, so yeah, I’m pulling the adult card here. You need food before coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting it instantly as your head throbbed harder. “Fine. I’ll get food after the coffee.”

He shook his head, already getting up. “Nope. I’m grabbing you a bagel or something.”

“Rafe, seriously—” you started, but he was already walking away, not even bothering to let you finish.

You slumped back in your chair, groaning under your breath. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and your stomach was twisting in a way that wasn’t just from the hangover. But it was so typical of him to boss you around, like he knew what was best for you. He seemed almost too serious about all this, like it wasn’t just about breakfast or caffeine. Was he actually… worried?              

He was being so over-the-top about something so simple. Maybe he noticed things you didn’t even realize were slipping—how little you’d been eating, how tired you always seemed. You didn’t want him to worry, to get so wrapped up in how you were doing. But the fact that he did… 

Rafe returned, dropping a bagel in front of you. “Eat. Then you can have your coffee.”

You blinked at the bagel, caught off guard. “You actually got me food?”

He gave you a look. “You really thought I wouldn’t? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A pain in my ass?” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it. You unwrapped the bagel, taking a cautious bite, and, annoyingly, it actually helped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now, once you finish that, we’ll get started on actual studying. You might wanna take those sunglasses off too. It’s not that bright in here.”

“Stop being so smug about it,” you grumbled, but you took another bite of the bagel, your headache easing just a little.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Hey, if you’re gonna drink like that, you should at least have someone who can take care of you after.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this your way of saying you care?”

“Eat your bagel.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest. Why was he always like this? One minute he was the biggest pain, and the next, he was sweet? You took another bite of the bagel, trying to ignore the way his comment made your stomach do a weird little flip.

Rafe just watched you, arms crossed, looking smug as ever. "I'm not saying anything," he teased, leaning forward slightly. "But you did call me last night."

You nearly choked on your bagel. "That was for studying!"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. "Oh, right. You totally call guys at night to talk about history."

You threw a balled-up napkin at him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Don't start with me, Cameron. You texted me first!"

"Fair enough," He caught the napkin effortlessly, still grinning, like teasing you was the highlight of his day. He was holding his hands up in surrender, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. "Don’t know if it’s the kiss or maybe you’re just starting to realize I'm not all bad."

You scoffed, trying to brush off how much that actually hit home.

"Please. You're still an entitled jerk, Rafe. One kiss doesn’t change that."

But the truth was, maybe it did change something. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since. And now, sitting here with him being all unexpectedly considerate, it was getting harder to pretend like there wasn’t something going on.

“So it hasn’t been keeping you up at night?”

“Why would it? It was just a kiss. Happens all the time, right?”

His smirk widen, “So I didn’t get your panties in a twist?”

You were going to throw a book at his face.

"You’re so full of yourself," you muttered, trying to act unbothered, but your pulse quickened.

Rafe leaned in a little closer, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m just saying, it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ with the way you keep getting flustered. You sure it didn’t mean anything?”

You narrowed your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m totally falling for you? That I can’t stop thinking about the kiss? Because that’s not happening.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again, but something shifted in his expression. He was still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity now, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll just keep doing my thing then.”

“Your thing? What, being an annoying, arrogant jerk?” you shot back, though there was less bite in your tone than usual.

Rafe’s lips twitched, “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you up at night.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? Why was this working on you?

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the whole reason you were here in the first place: studying, Nate, anything but this. But the way Rafe was looking at you right now, like he could see through all the walls you put up... yeah, it was messing with your head again.

"Can we just study now?" you grumbled, flipping open your textbook, praying the conversation would shift before your cheeks got any redder. "I didn’t drag myself here to talk about your ridiculous fantasies."

His grin softened into something more genuine, and he shook his head, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. Let’s get started before your brain melts from that hangover.”

But as you pulled out your notes, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. And worse, you knew your heart was doing the same—stupid fluttering and all.

There was something about this back-and-forth with him that was starting to feel... different. And maybe, just maybe, that scared you more than you were willing to admit.

As the two of you dove into the study session, you tried—really tried—to focus on the material in front of you. But every time he leaned in a little closer or cracked a joke that made you roll your eyes, your mind wandered back to that kiss. To the way he looked at you when no one else was around. To the fact that, as much as you hated to admit it, Rafe Cameron was making you feel something you hadn’t expected.

“Do you remember that bonfire when we were sixteen?” he asked all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Which one? There were like, a million bonfires.”

“The one where you dumped your drink in my face.”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth. Oh. That bonfire. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory came rushing back, clear as day.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you forget. One minute I was talking to you, and the next, I was soaking wet with a face full of—what was it? Lemonade?”

“Spiked lemonade,” you corrected, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” he echoed, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane. “I asked if you wanted to hang out by the water. How’s that deserving a drink to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the old annoyance bubble up again. “You asked me to hang out after you and your friends had spent the whole night making fun of me."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe we were a little rough back then. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a dick that night.”

“You were always a dick,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind your words. Sixteen-year-old you had despised him and his cocky attitude. 

He smirked, “You were so pissed off. Your face was all red, and you were shaking with anger, like you couldn’t believe I’d even dared to speak to you.”

“You had it coming.”

“I probably did,” he agreed, a softer look crossing his face. “But I remember thinking, even back then, you were different. You didn’t take shit from anyone.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Wait, are you actually complimenting me right now? What is happening?”

Rafe just grinned, leaning back again, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve always had more fight in you.”

Your stomach did that weird little flip again, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the crumbs left on the table. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I think that’s why I liked messing with you so much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “You always pushed back.”

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond to that. The Rafe you remembered from back then was all arrogance and teasing, but this... this was different. It was like he was admitting that he’d seen you in a way no one else had back then. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching cut your conversation short. You glanced up, thinking it might just be another student passing by, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Nate walking toward you and Rafe.

Rafe’s smirk faded instantly when he spotted him approaching.

“Hey,” Nate greeted with a casual smile, though his eyes flicked quickly between you and Rafe, “Didn’t know you guys studied here too.”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal even though your brain was racing. “Yeah, uh, just catching up on some work.”

Nate’s smile wavered slightly as his gaze lingered on Rafe, then back to you. “Mind if I join? I was just gonna find a spot to get some work done, but...” His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

For a second, you were torn. Nate was here, right in front of you—the guy you’d been chasing for months, the one who was supposed to be the plan. But Rafe was sitting across from you.

He leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms with that signature smirk creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, sure, the more, the merrier.”

You shot him a look, silently pleading with him not to make this worse, but he just raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation.

Nate pulled out a chair, setting his bag down, “What’re you working on?” he asked, glancing between you and Rafe.

Before you could answer, Rafe spoke up, again, “Just a little review. Nothing too complicated, right?” His eyes flicked to you, daring you to answer.

You swallowed hard, feeling both their gazes on you. “Yeah, just going over some notes. We’re almost done, actually.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than necessary, like he was sizing him up. “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll just... grab a spot over there.” 

“You do that.”

“Rafe.” you grumbled under your breath, kicking him under the table.

"You wanna grab lunch after? I was gonna head to that new sandwich place, and figured you might want to come."

For a split second, you hesitated. Lunch with Nate was the safe, easy option—exactly what you’d been trying to hold onto. But the way Rafe was watching you now... Nate’s invitation wasn’t just about lunch. It was a claim, a reminder that he was the one you were supposed to be into.

"I, um—” you started, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You’d just spent the last half hour trying to convince yourself that Rafe didn’t matter. That this whole thing with him wasn’t a big deal. But now, with Nate standing right here, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting.

Rafe stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Well, looks like you’ve got plans," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at you, before grabbing his notebook. "Catch you later, I guess."

Before you could say anything, he walked away, his footsteps heavy as he left the library. You stared after him, your heart doing this weird thing where it felt like it was both racing and sinking at the same time.

Nate raised an eyebrow, watching Rafe go. "That guy’s... intense," he said, his tone light, but you could tell he was fishing for something.

You forced a smile, "Yeah, that’s Rafe for you."

But even as you said it, your mind wasn’t on Nate. It was still stuck on Rafe—on the way he’d looked at you before he left, like maybe he’d been hoping you wouldn’t just go along with Nate’s plan. Like maybe he’d wanted you to choose something different.

"So, lunch?" Nate asked again, his smile back in place, but it didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

You swallowed hard, nodding automatically. “Sure, lunch sounds good.”

But as you followed him out of the library, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you’d just walked away from something important. 

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 TORN PICTURES AND FROZEN LENSES 1

────୨ৎ────

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode one!

Song recommendation: bloodline- ariana grande

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

Notes: Hey lovelies! This is my first time on tumblr. pls be nice! leave a comment if you like, feel free to go to my ask! to request drabbles of this couple

────୨ৎ────

A picture speaks more than a thousand words, so do eyes

At least when 26 pairs of them stare at you for being late, again. To be precise, for the 5th time in a row.

"Miss Y/n? what a surprise" Mr. Jeon stares through his glasses, direct and monotone as usual.

Bowing, you try to sit down at your desk that´s next to the door. "What is it this time? Couldn´t find your pens?" A almost routine like greeting from your teacher when you show up to class late. He tries to guess your reasoning each and every time, while increasingly mocking you. Just last week, when you showed up in a stained Shirt, he asked if you had to wash your clothes first before coming to class. You bet he found that hilarious.

On this day, his creativity seemingly died down, while his sarcasm certainly did not. "No sir, simply could not catch the bus. I apologize" you shake your head. Turning back to the Presentation behind him, wordlessly he resumes the lesson.

So likewise, you sit there. Waiting for it to be over. Photography has never been your strong suit but as a performing arts major, you needed this class to pass.

Not that you ever passed his class before, not in your first semester and certainly not in this second one.

"I will hand back your portfolios for the midterm preparations. I´m far too busy to be disappointed with them, although there are a few that gave me nightmares" his steps are small but powerful as he walks around the classroom, head pointed to the floor, his fluffy brown hair making it hard to read his face. It was blank, no one needed to see it to know. With his arms folded across his chest, he stands still.

If any other teacher had joked about having nightmares from awful projects, the class would have bursted into laughter and groans. In mister Jeon´s class, it remains silent, because for him, it´s not a joke.

Grabbing the pile of folders on his desk, he parades around the classroom, silently throwing folders down on the desk of the student it belongs to. Occasionally, a sigh of relief can be heard from your classmates.

When he reaches your desk, he slams the folder down, scoffing with his belittling smirk. It´s rare to see his face outside of his blank expression or unamused scoff, but when it does change, it is never positive.

Failed, repeatedly.

For one, because you prioritized other classes, far more important ones. Staying up until ungodly hours in the night to research for your English literature class and at the same time, trying to recall the notes for your practical music exam took a lot out of you. On second viewing, because your shitty 3 year old camera is barely holding on and you have no sense of stylistic layout or skill for settings and atmospheres. Not in pictures, at least.

Like you said, photography has never been your strong suit.

The bell finally releases you from the horrible strings of mr. Jeons depressing class, that is until his stern voice stops you from actually leaving.

"I have never had a student as careless as you" his scoff is as belittling as his eyes that look down at you. Without having to say it, they tell you how highly he thinks of himself, how lowly he thinks of you. Mr. Jeon has never been nice, too straight forward, never showing understanding for any misdemeanor. Handed the assignment in 5 minutes late? He would not dare grade it, even touch it. If you had worked tirelessly? , too bad. Ignoring the evidence of eyebags and puffy faces, he believes everyone simply lacks discipline.

"You show up late every time, fail every single exam, barely pass any group participation. Do you need this class for credits? I would drop out and take something that doesn´t require thinking, like theater. You have no chance of passing here" The words fall off his tongue naturally, so do the last footsteps of students leaving the class.

"I do not understand sir, why this concerns you at all. You have no consideration or awareness of my circumstances, I would expect some empathy from someone who´s job it is to interact with people" Honesty is not owned by him, for once, you decide to not let people treat you as if you were below them.

Once again, a scoff paints his lips as he steps closer, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly like he is taken by surprise from the sudden change of heart you seemingly underwent. Maybe it is just that no one has ever tried to talk back to him, knowing it leads practically nowhere. You know that as well, but the need to try and scream for the smallest drop of understanding, maybe even reassurance overcomes you with the sudden confrontation.

"Understanding? I think you are the one that needs to understand. Grow up, the world isn´t made to adapt and cradle you" It´s now your turn to scoff, your head shaking with a laugh of disbelief.

"That is exactly what I meant. The way my life is, I am well aware, mr. Jeon, that the world does not give a fuck about its people. Maybe, just maybe you know" you pause, searching his face for reaction as the frustration boils up, begging to be led out. As expected, it reads nothing. "You could try to see things apart from yourself, not everyone lives a life like yours"

"Oh my god, you poor little thing hm? What is it, lost your Phone? Got broken up with? People like you will find anything, anything in order to avert the blame. Its so-" he stops, his eyes darkening, the tattooed hand slips out of his pocket to swipe right through his hair. In a whisper of disgust, he resumes "...pathetic"

As a means to shield yourself from the way he spits out his words, your voice raises.

"Lost my home among other things, that good enough?" The words leave your mouth hurriedly, while wishing to be met with a soft smile. Stupidly enough, you know that´s very far from the reality that will weigh down on you in a matter of seconds. According to him, you are delusional anyways

The secret of yours that you had kept so warmly, so safely deep down in your mind had crept its way out your mouth, betraying you shamelessly. Not as shameless as the blatant lack of sympathy from the male stood in front of you.

" Good enough? Everyone has some shit they went through. You´re simply a loser, a lonely loser who cannot get over themselves. Get some help kid if you can´t do things for yourself but stop expecting people to let everything slide because of your helplessness. This huge victim complex of yours is infuriating. Did you expect me to cry and say oh what a cruel world, you poor little girl, i will let you pass my class?" Relentlessly he rants, with every word the sound of a distant laughter in your mind grows.

Regret.

Every second that passes he manages to give you further proof that you were never to find a spot in people's uselessly stern hearts.

Stammering to leave, the only words you manage to utter are "You´re heartless" mustering the courage to look at him is as far gone as your belief in his existence of ability to care.

Out, you want out of this wall tightening lecture hall that´s suffocating you with the strong hands of his stern voice.

"Good thing I don´t rely on the validation of others. I´m suspending you from this class to save you some work you would not do anyways" he turns sharply, walking back to his desk.

Parallel to him, you storm out of the University. Anywhere, anywhere is better right now.

Clouded by the tears of your resurfacing past you run along the streets. History repeats itself, the cycle of trust and naitivity is your biggest weakness.

Giving a way a piece of you for someone to keep safe, for someone to listen to, to care,

It has never worked before.

Stupid.

On and on unsure at this point if you were running from his words or ones of your own mind. They laugh at you, telling you their "I told you so"

Being powered simply by fear, and really, only fear, is far from enough to keep running, but you can´t stop. You can´t see either. Apparently, neither can the biker that runs into you, knocking you cold to the ground.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"She really did not show up, expected, Good." he mumbles to himself while sorting the material on his desk. The small cubicle like space in the teachers workroom is decorated with photographs of his very own camera. Simple, organized, plain.

"Who did not?" Mrs. Park´s curious voice rings next to him, as his fellow art subject teacher, they share most of their students.

Nosy, he thinks.

"Lee Y/n. I suspended her recently and I-"

"You mean the girl from the accident?" casually she mentions it.

The cut off on the other hand, is sharp and unexpected. Jungkook is shocked for one, because someone interrupted him and two, because of the mention of you in an accident.

"Excuse me, an accident?" mentally cursing at himself for appearing to show interest in the situation, he diverts his attention to the teacher next to him. It must be a misunderstanding.

"Jungkook with all due respect how did you think a girl lying in the hospital for the past three days is going to show up to your class? You and your high expectations" She shakes her head, having completely misjudged the situation. Surprisingly, that is not his priority.

"Three days? How come I have not heard of this? How unreliable" He scoffs, old habits die hard, certainly for Jeon Jungkook.

Mrs. Park hums, reluctantly whispering "Probably because people are.. speculating. She has lots of problems , if you understand what im trying to say" it is subtle, fleeting, but her eyes glance up at him with the raise of an eyebrow

It flashes to Jungkooks as briefly as his coworkers judgemental eyes. His mind goes on to remember his conversation, well, argument with that stupidly helpless student of his.

Three days ago.

Mentally, he shakes his head.

Bullshit.

Even if she tried something, he isn´t to blame.

Right?

"Anyways, I think she is in Incheon hospital now. I might visit her later, she used to be in my literature course" Mrs. Park voice fades out as she stands up to leave.

Doumbfounded he sits there, tied to the chair by the revelation that he might have sent someone to a hospital.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

I can not believe I´m driving to the fucking hospital. He curses at himself while punching in the address of Incheon hospital onto his phone. It´s okay Jungkook, you´re doing this for YOUR sanity. Has nothing to do with that idiot. The words keep reassuring him of his selfishness, maybe trying to convince him that what he is feeling is not empathy, no, it is just to soothe his mind.

Why was he anxious in the first place? Not like it would make a change.

And so, 25 minutes of staring blankly at the road commence.

Blankly, because he needed to focus.

Blankly because he was not willing to face the possibilties his thoughts hold at the moment.

When he finally arrives, the huge metal doors welcome him in.

Straight to the receptionist he goes, asking for your room, providing proof of acquaintance with the patient.

What a hassle it was to gather everything, he remembers

And yet it does not stop him from heading up to the second floor.

Having just woken up from your second nap of the day, you audibly groan when the door opens, expecting to see a nurse.

"What the fuck" staring at your asshole photography teacher that is, somehow, in your hospital room.

"Good afternoon to you as well" he replies, as always, far removed from any and all emotion.

"Am I having a nightmare?" Questioning the validity of this surely odd situation, you sit up, combing through your hair. He Sighs, removing his coat and sitting at the chair across from your hospital bed. He would never dare to think he should ask if you even find it tolerable he is there.

He wants to speak to you, so he will.

"No, unfortunately not" Without knowing what to say further, because frankly he does not even know why he came here, he remains silent.

"Did you seriously come here? For what, to tell me to go to school because everyone has accidents and i need to get over myself?" The bitterness of your words match the usual one of his own, tainted ones. However this time, his eyes shift briefly.

Worry.

You think, at least.

"I get it, I was an asshole. Don´t tell me you jumped in front of a biker because of it" the strong, decorated hand of his makes it´s way to rub against his forehead as his voice comes out in a low groan of frustration. No need to sugarcoat, this is all he needed to know from you. Right?

Deciding to use it for a little revenge, you leave his semi question uncommented.

"Came here to apologize? Soothe that non existent conscious of yours, mr. Jeon?" his eyes dart up to meet yours, is it as though he really believes his words may have been the cause.

Regret, maybe. If he is capable of such.

"Fuck seriously? Yes, okay. I came here because" he stops, his tongue pressing the inside of his cheeks as he looks out into the window. The words leave his mouth without him even knowing that prior to hearing it out loud, that is what he felt.

"because I got worried that I made someone try to..." he cannot bring himself to finish that sentence.

"Is that really what people are saying? God that´s awful how am I supposed to go back to College with this being my reputation" small, barely audible you chuckle.

"Ah, no. Well.. partially i guess. I ran out after the hatred you threw at me and unlucky me, your so called cruel world strikes again" At the quoting of his words you make a mockery out of his monotone voice, the absurdity of this conversation still not catching up to you.

"Don´t worry, if that is even possible for you, I will just get over my accident" With an annoyed laugh, Jungkook stands up to stand in front of your hospital bed directly, hands in his slack pockets ever so casually but somehow, dominantly.

"I get it you idiot, I was an awful guy that day, my god give me a break. I came here, all the way here to fucking try and talk to you, give me a chance" his eyes look down at you, bored, plain. His mouth betraying him once more, spilling the unknown truth from his plump pierced lips.

"You sure have a way of asking for things. I want you out quick so, make it fast will you mr, Jeon" your reply makes him tilt his head to the side quickly, muttering a finally under his breath.

"I decided to not suspend you. And I´m deciding that maybe, you should tell me your circumstances. I´m not going to be held accountable if you try some shit"

This is about him, of course.

Just now he's taking an actual look at you, trying to decipher how hurt you really are, he would never bother to ask though.

The bruises on your arms become visibile to him, looking them up and down with tightly pressed eyebrows. They look older, some of them appear fresh.

Is she being hurt? his mind wanders

A snort from you makes him snap out of his thoughts "What? So you can laugh at it?"

He groans in response, "If you stopped being so stubborn and listened to me maybe you would know why. I´m taking your advice god damn it, I´m trying to build understanding" both hands are now running through his longer hair, the frustration of the wall you build up almost making him give up. Deep down, he knows he can´t blame you. The consequences of his own actions are catching up to him slowly, just as the realization of his heart softening ever so slightly does.

Silence fills the room, being the loudest sound to present itself.

"Fine" you roll your eyes at him. Unlike him, you want to show some grace, show him that yeah, it is possible to go through shit and need help. Sometimes people need to be ripped out of their tunnel vision egocentric world to understand their flaws. At the same time, you worry your good heart will once again only lead you too give more than you should be.

"Took you long enough" he remarks snarkily

"Nevermind then"

"Oh my god"

You laugh at his response, making eye contact with him as he laughs too. Small that is, before catching himself doing so. Still, it made a smile try to creep up your lips at the unfamiliar sound.

"That was a first" as if you´d pass up a chance to embarrass him.

"Don´t mention it" returning to his habits as always, the stern teacher voice is perfectly matching his lurking stance. ´´You´re below me´´ practically radiating off of him. What a shame, you had just begun to find him pleasant.

"Okay so, summary: Was admitted into our shitty foster system, got a whole bunch of friendship trauma, had to run away from said foster horror house and am now basically homeless in a women´s shelter. Oh and before you ask, I have a scholarship. I may be poor but I am not a criminal" the hands up in a surrendering pose make up for the awkwardly tense situation after having revealed something so personal to your photography teacher. For the second time. Right now, it´s impossible to tell what he is thinking.

Nodding he starts off his sentence,

"you were right that is a lot. Fuck, now i get why you called me a heartless asshole. Had no idea a twenty-one year old can already live that much shit. I swear, I was convinced you were bullshitting because you just did not care about my class" his rambling turns into muttering when he makes his way back to sit down on the chair, the usually bored eyes of his look softer now, while his words are as insensitive as they have always been.

"You are meaning to tell me that outburst you had on me was because you were pressed i didn´t take your class seriously? I just suck at photography, but i tried" in a subconscious motion your hand clutches your chest melodramatically, a slight smirk tugging on the side of Jungkook´s mouth.

"I know you suck, saw all of those awful collages. I did mean some things I said, someone needs to teach you how to grit your teeth and stand up for yourself, would have taken you seriously much sooner" His deep brown eyes roll with the memory of your conversation, sighing deeply he shakes his head.

Oddly enough, his truthful joke about your inability for photography makes your heart a little warmer. The belittling presence of his turning into a much closer, normal one. While the distance of his emotions is undeniable, the closeness of his growing interest in your life is as well. His mind is occupied with your conversation, unable to focus on his only mission, that is to protect who he is. The mask slips but really, does he still feel like wearing it?

"If that is what you tried to express someone needs to teach you how to empathize and communicate with people, mr. Jeon"

He wants to leave the mask off for just a little longer

"Jungkook" his first name slips out of his lips seamlessly, in the heat of the moment, lost in the fact that for some reason, he wants to understand you. Not in a suggestion, he´s still Jungkook, no is not an option if he set his mind to it. He´s demanding you to adapt to him

"What?"

"Call me Jungkook. We have been far from professional anyways. Calling me mister and all that formal shit makes it weird" his face scrunches up briefly, the embarrassment of acting more like a highschool bully than a teacher is slowly catching up to him.

You can´t help but laugh softly at this whole mess. In a hospital, constantly fighting while simultaneously trauma unpacking with your heartless, maybe not so heartless after all photography teacher who now wants you to call him by his first name.

Cruel world, as he puts it.

"Sure, Jungkook" his name leaves your lips in way so naturally it makes him jump inside.

What the fuck?

"I guess we could learn a lot from each other then, idiot" never failing to remind you of his stance on your personality, the sound echos in the room when his eyes meet yours,

but it is not his eyes that matter in his moment, they have returned to their stern nature long ago,

It is the fact that he softened his voice, as if he was afraid to let you in his mind. As if it was only possible for him to let one small spot of his soften at a time,

While you were just as afraid,

"Yeah. Deal?"

He naturally irritated face showing up to greet you once more

"Seriously? What are you, 12?"

"With the way you're acting i should be asking you that"

Unamused, he manages to mutter out

"Deal"

It's like the nurse had waited for you to be done before entering the room, informing you that visitor time is up and Jungkook needs to leave. Your eyes dart to his as he puts on the coat he had hung up previously, thanking the nurse before shifting his body slightly to hover over your sitting form.

"See you in class then" with that, he leaves you to rethink everything that had happend the past days. More over, he leaves you wondering just how honest he was about the little deal you guys made.

[vrystalius]

Yo! Hello its me again! Could i please request like a reverse isekai where the kny characters end up in reader's house? And maybe she is like Mad rich but like.. Not a spoiled brat she likes to do charity and make money for herself and maybe she is living with her cousins, she is smark but can be stupid (if you know what i mean) i don't know, you can do whatever you want, (there is not enough reverse isekai fanfictions😭), anyhow, hope you have a good day and you didn't get sick of my (a lot) requests😁🫶🏻👋🏻

Hashira getting reverse isekai’d

Your favourite hashira suddenly appeared inside your home! How will they react to your home and the modern world?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He will not adjust to this change quietly— he is ready to destroy and slice every single piece of tech that decides to randomly beep or talk to him. You once found Sanemi trying to get his katana out of your ceiling after throwing it with full force against your smoke detector, after it beeped to remind you to change battery. It scared the shit out of him, so he put an end to that thing. Often times when using your phone, Sanemi accidentally activates Siri. He first thought that a demon was speaking through the phone with some kind of blood demon art, then, after explaining to him what exactly Siri is and what she does, he just begins cursing her and cussing her out every time she activates on him. You once had to remind him not to grip it so tightly, or else your screen might crack.

A thing he really, really likes about your modern home though is your bathroom. The shower, the large mirror, sink, toilet… just everything about it. The first time he stepped into your shower and closed the glass door behind himself, Sanemi was first confused about the shower settings. He turned every knob that is able to be turned, both cooking himself alive and dodging the water in fear of freezing, achieving both of these things in one shower. Once he finally found the perfect temperature, it was time to test all of the products you have, and not sparingly. Shampoo, conditioner, hair masks, shower gel, body scrub and whatever else he could get his fingers on— once he got out of the shower and returned to you, his smell was almost overwhelming, but at least you know now that his har is somehow able to look even better than before.

After a long adjustment period, you sometimes catch Sanemi watching the TV. He made himself comfortable in a corner of your couch, cuddled up in heated blankets (he learned how to use the settings all by himself!) and watching one movie after another. He’s quite the binge-watcher apparently, watching one action movie after another for hours on end. At the end of such day, he’ll complain about his eyes burning up without having any idea how that happened.

“Hey, wanna join me? Blanket s’ warm and I found a movie about some weird metal things moving really, really fast and guys kicking each other’s asses— Huh? Cars? Are those these fast carriages sliding around on there?”

Kyojuro Rengoku

He is incredibly curious about every single thing and would try to understand how everything works. Kyojuro would inspect your microwave and press every button their is, watching the pizza pocket he threw into there react to the different settings and then grieving about how the once weird snacks he wanted to try turned into a piece of burnt remains. Despite being the most comfortable with the traditional meals he used to eat, Kyojuro would love to try any dish you even mentioned by name once! Since you can get your food delivered to your front door, Kyojuro can try as many different cultural dishes as he can get his hands on! Or as many as you can get delivered to tour home. Ordering food is something he always gets very excited about, like what do you mean you can order all kinds of cultural food in a matter of minutes? How do the restaurants have all the ingredients available and are always ready to serve customers? And why do you refuse to order a so-called Happy Meal for him? Isn’t it supposed to make one happy?

Another thing Kyojuro is very excited about is the gym. He accidentally stumbled upon a fitness center after returning from buying groceries, staring at the people training inside with those weird machines. The hashira spotted a couple of people build broader and stronger than him, making him realise that this may be some kind of modern training ground. He begged on his hands and knees for a membership so he can explore all these new machines and weight excursuses. Once Kyojuro got inside, he was like a child in a candyshop. He spend the whole day testing out every machine, noting his own limits and setting goals on how to get even stronger. Despite no demons terrorising your world, he still wants to keep his muscles and gain strength to offer nice pillows you can lay your head on and also have the ability to open sealed jars for you without struggling.

“Can we order sweet potato tonight? I miss eating it, and it’s my comfort dish…. Also, I believe I may have started to develop homesickness. I miss my brother the most, though… Not that I don’t like it here, I love it! I just miss my father and brother, that’s all.”

Giyu Tomioka

Staying true to his nature, Giyu would be silent and awkward in this new space. He’s scared of offending you in any way but simply taking his haori off or sitting down onto your couch since he has no idea about the manners and behaviours expected from him in this world, but at the same time doesn’t bother to ask you in order to not burden you in any way. So, he quietly followed you around the house in and inspect your furniture and decorations, sometimes curiously picking something up and inspecting its function. His favourite object so far is a rubix cube he found on your desk. You caught him turn the sides, trying to understand what the point of this thing is. Does it have something on the inside? Why are the colours all scrambled up? While watching his irritation grow because of not being able to sort the colours, you suggested that Giyu can keep it and try to solve it after giving him a small briefing on what the point of the cube is. Thanking you, he kept the rubix cube on his body to play around with it whenever he has time. He is seriously invested in it and really wants to solve it in order to prove to himself that he can solve a complex puzzle and to maybe even impress you a little.

Also, you discovered that Giyu likes noise-canceling headphones, music and e-books. You often find him cuddled up together on your sofa, his face illuminated by your Ipad in his hands. You could hear the faint sounds of soft and slow music from the headphones he was wearing. He looks incredibly invested in whatever he is reading, so you snuck up on him and glanced over his shoulder, reading a couple of lines. It wasn’t a fantasy story or a random novel like you thought, but Giyu was actually reading an article about the behaviour of cats. Adorable, you thought, so you left him be and went on with your day. The water hashira eyed your form as you left, sneakily switching tabs and returning to what he was actually reading: a fluffy romance novel. He looks over his shoulder twice, thrice, checking if you are still near before feeling comfortable enough to continue his reading in peace.

“Can I borrow your.. headphones? They’re called headphones, right? Yes, I’d like to borrow them again. I want to use them to have more silence, you are being very loud and I wanted to read something.”

💠

You never bother me with your requests! They are always so fun to write for!! Also, I hope it’s okay I kind of “simplified” your request— I hope you enjoyed this anyway. Also, I didn’t include Gyomei because I was unsure of what exactly to write for him, but I may update this tomorrow and a small scenario for him <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving him with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

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[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 13:53 — ONE NEGRONI

SUM : to help pay the bills and your tuition fee, you get a new job at an elite club where the tips are incredibly generous. you’ve met a majority of the clientele already but they don’t match the stranger who ordered a simple negroni

TAGS. : mafia au ; modern au ; muggle au ; mobster remus ; mafia boss remus ; bartender reader ; reader is a hard working sweetheart that must be protected! ; catching remus’ eye ; remus lowkey wishes he can be the one to do the protecting ; and maybe more ; for now, he’s a low key stalker ; but sexy… ; stalking is bad, don’t do it! ; this is just fiction! ; but hey! remus owns an elite club! wooooo! ; i don’t know how to feel about my interpretation of the marauders as mafia men/mobsters ; it’s growing on me… ; also, im casting peter pettigrew as Dane DeHan in this!

LENGTH : 1.5k

It wasn’t as if you were new to the job; you had previously worked some years as a bar tender for a pretty well-established club, it paid well and managed to help pay for your rent and utility bills for most of your higher education years. However, all the built up stress and sleepless nights finally caught up to you. And you found yourself repeating a year, meaning that you needed to pay for your own tuition this year atop all the other monthly bills and necessities you keep up with. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that you needed to stop and change the direction of your life — you needed to choose an easier path, a doable path. But you were stubborn and also quite the optimist. So you kept at it, determined to finish what you started and earn your degree. 

Yes, it was a let down but you were still breathing. Life just gets hard sometimes. 

Thankfully, your past experience and phenomenal recommendation letter from your previous manager earned you another bar tending job at a very elite club, where tips were more than generous, considering the clientele composed primarily of the privileged class, some with multiple businesses under their belts, some who were phenomenal investors and some living off their parents’ money. You didn’t care to look too much into it, you were there to work and you were going to work hard and honestly. 

The patrons surprisingly had very similar tastes and so, you fond yourself making the same types of drinks repeatedly. It made the job a lot easier and you were able to focus more on your delivery and interaction with customers, leading to more tips. Times were rough after having to accept defeat with your studies and repeating a year with your own funding but things were looking up. If you keep at it, you’ll make it out alive. 

Your only complaint was the dress code. Make up was advised with a bold red lip but must be kept simple. You felt like a showgirl of some kind, squeezed into a high collar, white dress that came down to your mid thigh and with a low-cut, open back. The sleeves aren’t as long as you would like but, at least, you were permitted to use black kitten heel court shoe pumps as opposed to stilettos — your only saving grace, along with the higher salary and generous tips. 

“Looks like we have a newbie working the bar,” Sirius points out, drawing all attention to your lively figure as you served drinks with a sweet smile and airy voice. A hum of curiosity vibrates through Remus’ chest and up to his lips at the sight of you, “certainly easy on the eyes, huh?” the tattooed, right-hand comments again as he looks towards the head of the table where Remus holds up his glass of Negroni. 

“Very… innocent— a sweet, pretty, little thing,” James comments on Remus’ other side, which Peter grunts at in agreement as he takes a sip of his whiskey-sour. 

“Looks like she doesn’t belong,” Peter nods before smirking and letting out a light laugh. The domino effect had James and Sirius laughing too as Remus smirks behind his glass before proceeding to down the rest of his drink. 

“Exactly your type, eh? Moony?” 

Sirius’ teasing comment is ignored. Instead, Remus calls for there server and orders another drink with an additional request that only confirms his smirking friend’s disregarded statement, “Have the new bartender personally deliver my drink for me as well,”

There was no higher authority that could dismiss the club owner’s personal request. 

It was a strange request but you steeled your nerves and asked your fellow bartender to minister your unattended station while you made quick work on the order. It wasn’t unusual to receive requests like this from an isolated table that had privacy curtains for convenience. However, it was usually for drinks that you could make a show out of like a Holy Water cocktail, a Phoenix cocktail and even a Dragon’s Blood cocktail — a performance that you liked partaking in for the flammable aspect. But this was a Negroni. A cocktail of equal parts gin, saccharine vermouth and bitter Italian Campari. It’s a very egalitarian drink that was enjoyed by everyone, men and women alike, simple but elegant and definitely didn’t require a performance. Despite the odd summons, you were eager to fulfil your curiosity for who the client may be. 

With a professional smile, you place refined mix in the middle of your circular tray with it’s classic orange garnish and set off to the table. The standby server, who made the order, saw your approach and quickly announced your arrival through the small front opening, momentarily disappearing into the shadow of the curtains. He reappears a moment later and pulls the heavy drapes fully apart, to reveal the guests from beneath the, once, opaque shadows. 

To say that you were stunned was an understatement. 

It was pure luck that you didn’t stutter in your stride and spill the cocktail prematurely. At the table was seated four men, all dressed in suits and ties that were in various states of disorder. Among their collection of suits, you could spot Armani and Tom Ford, however, you were sure that their unconventional styles were not the way those suits were intended to be worn. 

One man with long, midnight-black hair and paper-pale skin had an array of mismatching tattoos littering both arms, revealed to you by his lack of a suit jacket and rolled-up sleeves. Another wore cute circular glasses and a cheeky grin with a suit jacket but no button up shirt and his chiseled upper body on full display. The last was a dirty blonde with piercing eyes and a deceivingly boyish smile. He had his ankle propped up on his opposite knee and several buttons undone where a tie should have been fastened over, his sleeves also rolled up as his suit jacket lay beside him.

It was the man at the head of the table, however, who stole your attention. If you had to guess who ordered such a simple but elegant drink, it would have to be him. He had his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders and also had several of his top buttons undone, revealing some faded scars marked across his toned chest. His neat brunette hair and kind brown eyes gave him a deceivingly gentle appearance but his close company revealed a duplicity that caught and tensed your nerves.

You ignored the creeping goosebumps that prickled your skin, down from your toes all the way up to your ears. 

Just do your job…

“Gentlemen,” you addressed kindly with a slight tilt of your head, which they acknowledged with their own hums of acknowledgement, their eyes lighting up in subtle surprise at your actions, “I have an order for a Negroni,” you raise your tray with the drink and scan the four for some indication as to who the order belonged to. 

“That would be for me,” just as you suspected, it was the brunette with the kindest eyes but also the most ominous air. His voice is a deep and smooth lullaby, patient with it’s seduction on your senses. It was a trap that you resisted but are so hopelessly tempted to fall into, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he meets your eyes as you lower the drink into his large, outstretched hand. You notice how his knuckles and fingers are littered with scars also, some fresh, some faded with time and some hidden behind luxurious rings. Nevertheless…

He’s beautiful 

She’s precious 

“Not a problem,” you reassure with a soft voice, “have a good evening,” with your circular tray pressed against your side, you offer him an innocent smile and dismiss the butterflies in your stomach urging you to linger, “gentlemen,” you acknowledge the remaining three once more before offering another sweet smile. Turning on your heel, you leave the group and ignore the stares drilling holes into the back of your head.

She doesn’t know… 

Once you were out of earshot, Remus turns to his closest friends and most trusted colleagues. They all share a look, one that conveys a unanimous thought. It isn’t long before their agreement manifests into knowing smiles and a ring of laughter shared between them.

“Don’t get greedy now, Moony,” Peter chimes in as Sirius throws his head back with a barking laugh. 

“That’s not gonna stop him Wormtail, you know that; she’s a rare one,”  

“So what’s the plan, bossman?” James asks with a raised brow as he brings his drink up to his lips.

Remus doesn’t answer right away, he simply requests that the curtain remain open so he can fix his fond gaze on you for the remainder of the evening. The group already knew what to do and sat at the edge of their seats, awaiting orders eagerly despite their slack shoulders and composed expressions. Only they were able to observe the shift in the air between them; it became charged as soon as you entered their circle and slowly started accelerating, parallel to the climbing affection in Remus’ eyes as he watches you smile at customers while making their drinks. 

He takes a singular sip of his Negroni, bitterly sweet with a citrus edge. 

Heaven in a glass. And made by an angel. 

“I want a background check and profile put together immediately,” Remus finally orders, “I want to know everything there is to know about her,”

A/N : i downloaded some fics and read some over the holidays and there some mafia/mobster aus and i couldn’t help but picture remus as a mob boss, i’m sure im not the only one to ever imagine this but goddamn! why is it so easy to imagine sweet, gentle, responsible remus like that?!

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @rosalyn-s

[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[eshieslovemaze]

𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 | kth

summary: you only wanted to get wasted at a club after getting dumped, but ended up fucking a total stranger.

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉.

pairing: taehyung × fem!reader

genre: smut, one night stand, one shot, fluff but tiny

rating: 18+

word count: 4k

warnings/includes: smut, drinking, lots of kissing and making out, boob play, fingering, penetrative sex (protected), and that's all, i guess..?

note: hi! first ever post here, so kinda nervous. added to that, it's literally the first smut i wrote, so i am sorry if it's cringey. also, english is not my first language, so please ignore my mistakes. hope you guys like it! ^^

🎀🥂✨️

it takes you a lot to accept that you got dumped in your first ever relationship attempt. not like you were attached to the guy, but it is disheartening and embarrassing. needless to mention, it is also a direct attack on your ego. whatever, it happened, and you should move on from the incident.

and that is how you found yourself in front of one of the popular clubs of the city. it has been a while since you last visited a club, and whatever incident happened today is the perfect excuse for you to be here.

for the first time in a while, you dolled up like you never had before. also chose the dress which you never thought would actually wear - a beige, spaghetti strap, satin short dress, which hugged all the right places. you also did some makeup and decided to leave your hair open for the night. you decide to check your face in the front camera of your phone before getting in. quite obviously, you look gorgeous.

not wanting to tire your feet anymore with those long, white heels, you finally walk into the club after adjusting your dress.

the pink, purple, and blue lights reflect every spot your eyes could see, and the smell of freshly brewed alcoholic cocktails hits your nose. you see a crowd swaying themselves to the beats of the pop song that is playing in the club, excited groans and drunk bodies grinding on each other, as if the people turned blind eye to whatever that was happening except themselves and are completely chained to the rhythm.

the major part of the people inside are seated in the tables, and some are in the private booths; waiters and waitresses scurrying everywhere to meet their demands.

sighing, you make your way to the bar, and sit on one of the tall stools, immediately ordering a vodka. the bartender gets it with a sweet smile, serving it while showing some of his tricks. you get the drink after muttering a 'thank you' to him with a polite smile. you finally take a sip, feeling the liquid rush down your throat with a slight burning sensation. you let your eyes stare into the void, swirling the glass of vodka in your hand and occasionally taking a glance or two at your surroundings. your eyes catch a couple making out at a corner. you sigh, feeling down yet again.

you feel lonely. in this city, in this club, at your workplace, and even at home. most would say that it's normal, and it takes time for one to get habituated in the city they just moved in. while that is true, you couldn't help but feel loneliness crippling your insides more as the days go by.

shaking your head, you decide to not think about it anymore and just get wasted for the night. you chunk the rest of the vodka in one go and order another shot right away. this week was probably the shittiest of your career. of course, you deserve to enjoy and spoil yourself this weekend with no sappy thoughts. you grab the second shot of vodka and make your way to the dance floor after gulping it down in a few sips.

you sway your hips to the beats, already feeling several eyes on you, on the parts where the dress hugs your body tightly. maybe it was the vodka, but you're really enjoying the attention you are getting.

you know you're doing great when several heads turn to look at you.

taking that as a boost to your confidence, you move myself with the rhythm, running your hands through your throat, chest, and stomach to enhance your performance. you feel someone sneak up to your back and circle his arms around your waist, but mindful that he isn't touching you too much to make you uncomfortable. you turn to face the man, and to say you are shocked would be an understatement.

he has to be Aphrodite's son to be this handsome and breathtaking. you take your sweet time studying his face, slowing your movements to do so. his sharp eyes - one monolid and the other doublelid - seem to be staring right at your soul. his nose was high and slender, skin flawless. he has got wide lips with the perfect cupid's bow to ever exist, and you had to control every bit of yourself to not pull him in and kiss those. he sported a black see-through shirt with white abstract designs all over, pairing it with simple, black jeans; which was tight enough to highlight his muscular thighs.

it feels mesmerising. the way he towers over you and looks right in your eyes made you feel too naked under him. you try to get a hold of your mind, trying to push the gush of unholy thoughts away as he is a total stranger to you. his movements are now slowing, matching the beats of the song slowing down as it nears to the end.

"done checking me out?" his voice, naturally baritone and husky, sends shivers down your spine. it fuelled the growing sensuality inside you, which lit the moment you saw him. flushing quite a bit, you chuckle breathily before giving him a reply.

"i can ask you the same," you say. yes, you can notice the way his eyes move practically all over you, lingering longer at those places. while his hands around you itch to hold you closer. even now, it feels like he is resisting the urge to press you to himself and feel you up.

the song ceases, and the speakers are quiet for a while. you two take this moment to scurry yourselves through the crowd to the bar. you both sit down on the stools and look at each other deeply. your gazes are dark, and words are not necessary to understand what you both want.

"kim taehyung," he speaks, extending his right hand for you to shake. he now has a very alluring smile on his velvety lips, openly checking you out under the comparatively brighter lights of the bar. you take his hand and introduce yourself, using your tipsy and sultry voice, letting your eyes do talking for the desires that arose.

you have the hots for each other, and you both know it.

he smirks, seemingly getting your point. "wanna have a talk over some soju?"

"i don't see why not", you reply as he unclasps your palm and casually places his on your knee. that little ounce of hesitation flies away when he sees you being fine with it. he chuckles as he sees the tint of blush on your cheeks deepen, turning to the bartender to get your drinks.

sipping on the soju, you talk and also flirt quite obviously, his hand never leaving your knee, thumb even making little circles over the skin from time to time. by this time, you were both quite tipsy but not drunk enough to be out of your senses.

"would you like to get out of here?" he finally suggests, making your heart do several somersaults with his low, husky voice. his eyes are now anthracite dark, as if hypnotising you to get drowned in them.

"surely, it's quite cramped in here now," your reply made him smirk instantly.

he gets up and extends his hand for you to take, which you gladly do, and guides you to the stairs leading to the rooms on the next floor.

just as you reach the dimly lit corner of the staircase, he pushes you to the wall, caging you between his arms. you feel your heartbeat pick-up since he leans his face to yours, lips almost brushing. from this closeup, you notice all the tiny details of his face, the mole under his eye, the one on his cheek, one right above his nostril, and lastly, the one on his lips.

somehow, the mole makes his lips look more kissable than they already are.

not having the strength to control the pulsating urge any longer, you pull his collar and kiss him hungrily. you feel him smile through your lips, kissing you back with the same desire. when the kiss grows hotter, he bites your lower lip slightly, making you gasp. instantly, he pushes in his tongue, tasting every inch of your mouth.

he pulls away only to drop his head to your neck, placing open-mouthed butterfly kisses all over on your shoulders and collarbones. you couldn't help but pant and slightly moan with how he is making you feel. your heart is on fire, butterflies in the stomach, and you start to feel very light-headed from the excitement.

he licks a spot under your ear before hurriedly latching his mouth on the spot, sucking it like his life depended on it. you throw your head backwards with a gasp, completely leaning on the wall for support as your legs are already so wobbly. your hands automatically snake to his nape, fingers clutching the roots of his hair. he lets out a groan, and you shudder when the warm breath hits your skin.

he moves one of his hands to grip your waist, his thumb circling the skin from above the fabric of the dress. his other hand holds your jaw, angling it in a way that would provide him the perfect spot for his lips to do their job on your neck, throat, and collarbones. you already feel too addicted to his lips; he read well how well your body reacts to him, and he was enjoying every bit of it. suddenly, having the urge to kiss his petal-like lips, you softly hold his face and make him face you, moulding your lips with his in a passionate kiss. his grip on your waist becomes tighter, deepening the kiss even more.

you two pull away after a few moments, trying to stabilize your ragged breaths when he picks you up in bridal style and enters the nearest room. he puts you down, presses your back against the now locked door, and continues leaving love bites on your collarbones. sinful sounds erupt from your throat, and you lost all your self-control as your fingers begin to unbutton his shirt hurriedly. he groans, feeling your fingers on his skin, and you feel even more excited to understand that you make him feel this good.

the next few moments are a blur, your clothes messily lying on the floor in a pile and both of you naked, skin-to-skin on the bed, having the most intense make-out session of your lives. by now, most of the skin on your neck, throat, collarbones, and chest are filled with the reddish-purple marks of his hickeys. you also keep leaving a fair number of love-bites on his shoulders.

his kisses get lower, finally attending to one of your breasts. his mouth do wonders there, lightly tugging and sucking the nipple while his fingers kneaded the other one. you whimper, desperately moaning, wanting to feel more of his touch, more of him.

your fingers occupy themselves by nestling into the roots of his hair and tugging on the locks, making him grunt. he looks up to see your face, and fuck, you're beautiful.

he felt himself twitch, too needy to be one with you. however, he decided to stretch the foreplay longer, wanting to see how long you both could go on.

he pinched your bud, wet with his saliva. you roll your eyes to the back of your head with pleasure, moaning like you never had before. he is extremely good at what he is doing. you inhale sharply when he licked the middle of your bosom and immediately goes to the unattended boob, mercilessly sucking and leaving marks on the soft flesh.

your breaths were becoming shorter, and you could feel the wetness between your thighs grow, impatiently pressing them together to get some sort of friction.

taehyung notices and looks up to your eyes, smirking.

"shall we move on with the next part, princess? do you feel ready?"

he comes back to your neck, burying his face in its crook as he speaks, and he can feel your skin shiver when his hot breath hits it.

you nodded, eyes closed and chest heaving.

"words, princess."

you never knew getting immensely turned on by just words was possible, until tonight.

"mhm, y-yes."

you hear his husky chuckle, which is something you have heard countless times since the last few hours, and yet feel your breath hitch. you look up to his eyes when she feel the weight on your neck evaporate, only to see him smirk a bit as he throws his body weight to his right side.

"spread your legs for me, princess."

it is as if you are charmed by his dark, lusty eyes since you spread your legs instantly.

trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach due to the pet-name, you focus on his large veiny hands as they pull apart her thighs wider, exposing you bare for himself.

"now, just lay back and relax, princess."

saying so he starts rubbing his thumb over your clit, in an agonisingly slow pace, yet you have to bite back a moan.

his eyes move back and forth, from your wet folds and your face, not wanting to miss any expression you make for him.

"already this wet for me, huh?"

"who w-wouldn't be?"

an amused chuckle vibrates from his throat, enjoying what you just uttered.

"you turn me on so bad darling", he says with mischief dripping from his voice, holding that steamy eye contact.

"you do the same to me," you say in a breath, not trying to stutter more and just drown in the pool of euphoria he is giving you.

his index finger now begins making a line to the wet slit, finally stopping at your entrance. ever so slowly and teasingly he pushed his finger in, your back arching against the mattress due to the feeling.

"fuck, you are so beautiful", he says, unaware of the butterflies he just erupted in your stomach.

heart drumming in your ears, you loudly moan as he fingers faster, rhythmically moving his finger in and out as he adds another of his long fingers in, stretching your lower lips wider, now dripping wet from arousal slick. he began pushing his fingers into you even more, exploring most of your inner walls. he slightly curls one finger while moving the another one slightly, discovering a new spot. you suddenly writhe, becoming a moaning mess. one of your hands holds onto his bicep that supports his body, and the other fists the sheets like your life depends on it. he stimulates that spot even more, adding another finger into your folds swiftly. almost immediately, you start to feel a knot that begins forming in the pit of your lower abdomen.

"taehyung, i t-think i-i'm close," you already feel lightheaded from what is yet to come.

"oh, princess, you shouldn't be," saying so, he pulls out his fingers, very wet from your juices. you miss the feeling of his fingers inside you and shamelessly want to feel more of him.

"fuck," you curse loudly, choking on your own breath when he licks your juices clean from his fingers, sensually putting them in his mouth, eyes looking into your soul.

he lowers to your lips to press a searing kiss, making you taste yourself in it; hovering above you by the support of his hands beside your head as both groan into the kiss. you unhesitatingly buckle your hips towards his bare groin, not being able to contain your excitement when his hardened tip brushes against your stimulated clit. you shudder, feeling it press on your sensitive spots down there.

"i'll get the condom," he informs you before moving to the edge of the bed, hand finding his wallet from his discarded clothing. he pulls out the silver packaging, casually throwing his wallet over the pile of clothes after. he comes back to you, eyeing your naked form as you take his sizzling presence in. he is not too muscular but has a lean and strong looking physique, which makes him desirable in so many ways. he is undeniably handsome, attractive, and everything a woman would want her ideal man to be. his honey skin shone from the thin layer of sweat under the dim lights, making the sexiness in his aura increase, if it was even possible; by now you honestly wondered where he has been until tonight.

you are pulled away from your trace of thoughts about the person before you when he rips the silver packaging open with his teeth, with a squeaky noise. you watch him pumping his already hardened dick a few times before slipping it in the condom, precum dripping from the head as it twitches while he covers it. you do not fail to notice how prominent the excited veins look, making it appear thicker and longer than it already is. your breath quickens with the visual, veins full of adrenaline, as he brings himself back to you.

He lifts himself up on his knees, biceps bulging as he hoists your legs above his shoulders in prompt movements, strong palms on your lower thighs to hold you in position.

aligning his dick with your entrance, he pushes his tip into your folds, groaning in the process as you breaks into a loud moaning mess for the nth time the night. your drenched folds welcomes his girth as he slides in halfway.

"aghh, taehyung!"

"right, princess, scream my name."

he just loved  how vocal you are. his calculative eyes read every movement and every body language of yours with ease, satisfied for both giving and having a good time.

as the two of you breathe heavily, he gives you some moments to adjust to his size. even though he did a wonderful job at stretching you during the foreplay, you are still tight, and it is good; it felt good.

he tries to go as deep as possible, actions sending you over to the edge. he rests for a few seconds when he found your deepest spot, and drags his dick back to the tip only to slam it back again, in a pace you had never imagined of ever before, your pelvises pressing together.

the room seems to fog up with the smell of sex and sweat, also filling up with the unholy sounds released with every breath they exhale.

it was oddly exhilarating.

neither of them thought that they would get laid tonight, but they don't regret it at all. it's their best night of their lives.

the hands that supported your lower body as he is ramming into your insides, now start to itch, to touch more of those places of your curves; the places he couldn't seem to get enough of.

he squeezes the arch of your waist and then dips his head to place more hickeys on your collarbones. he gladly admits that he is addicted to them, to the high feeling that comes when he sees his marks blooming in dark shades on your skin.

he slows his pace a little, focusing on the skin of your collarbones for the time being. you mewl, your fingers almost digging into his shoulders to anchor yourself. he goes above to lick a stripe on your jaw.

he keeps going slow, hitting the spot he found the most enigmatic response on, while you tighten your grip on him, running your fingers through his glistening skin.

he then uses a thumb to fondle with her clit, teasing the sensitive bud as he increases the pace with every thrust.

"i t-think i'm gonna c-cum," you stumble on your words through the overstimulation.

he only replies to you with a breathy chuckle, a little nod, and by thrusting harder.

the knot in the pit of your stomach finally comes undone, your orgasm rippling out in waves as you break out into a loud, shaky moan. he keeps slamming into you through it, chasing his own orgasm as his seed fills the condom. he groans, pulling out himself out of you and pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

he takes the condom out, makes a knot by the opening, and disposes it off in the trashcan before dropping on the bed right beside you.

you both pant heavily for a few moments. he then gets up, drinks some water from the bottle on the nightstand and also helps you drink from the bottle, supporting your shoulders.

"we should get cleaned up," he speaks, baritone voice soft, a total opposite of the voice from before.

"too tired, just wanna sleep," you mumble, eyes drooping, and he almost cooes. he places a peck on your forehead smilingly, deciding to let it go as he lies on the sheets next to you. just as he covered both of them with the duvet, you snuggle into his side and hug his arm in a cuddling position.

he feels the warmth that bubbled in his heart with your action and brings an arm around your back, now both facing each other and cuddling into each other.

tired from the prior activities, you drifted to sleep almost immediately, finding comfort in each others' arms.

you stirr awake when it seemed like it has been a few hours into the morning already. the faint sunrays that filtered through the curtains were the only source of light in the room.

feeling the hand encircled around your bare waist, the chest pressed against your back and the breaths on your neck, you remembered all that happened last night.

now that the alcohol and hormones wore off, you felt incredibly shy and attempted to curl to yourself from the giddy feeling of having a good sex the night before. you aren't at all horrified. you both knew that you wanted it.

sensing your movements, he wakes. e pulls you closer to him and buries his face on the crook of your neck, breathing my scent.

he's making you feel things.

"good morning, princess. had a nice sleep?" his morning voice is dangerously husky and very pleasing to listen to first thing in the morning, making your breath hitch.

"i did, you?" you ask, still not facing him, timid to show him the blushed up face.

"best I've ever slept in a while, since i had you to hold on to."

not being able to hold yourself, you turned around and placed an innocent peck on his lips. but what he does next shocks you, in a good way, though.

lightly snaking his fingers around your nape, he pulls you forward and kisses you softly, your lips stretching in a grin as you feel him smile through it.

when you part and face each other, he holds eye contact for a bit before speaking.

"we should get going, i think it's around nine already," he gets up, pulling you up as he did. you rummage through the pile of clothes for your phone, and indeed, it was five minutes to nine.

you suddenly remember that you were still naked, the thought making heat rush to your cheeks.

"we should get dressed," i shyly speak, fingers playing with the duvet.

"why? is all the boldness from last night gone now?" he smirks.

you lightly hit his arm, "shut up," but he only laughs.

by the time you get washed up and dressed, it got awkward all of a sudden.

'does it end here?'

'will we be just acquaintances who fucked one night now?'

'will it be okay to start from here?'

'is it weird to want to be close just after a night of casual fucking?'

these were your thoughts. you yearned for more, but did not know how to address it.

"uhm taehyung, would you be free for lunch later?" you are the first one to initiate, hoping with everything that he doesn't deny, and you don't end up embarrassing yourself.

"sure, put your number in, i'd pick you up," he says with his wide boxy grin, handing his phone to you, his eyes showing how much he appreciates you for bringing it up.

"of course."

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Hi! I was the anonymous requester who you said your new fic coming out forever my heart sounds like! If possible could you make it separate so I’ll have more to read! Also if you could add Kylian being her first everything like even kiss!

This is the longest fic I've written up to date and I'm beat. Sorry it came out a little later than I planned.

Love Heals

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — request: «Ok please make this long again but maybe something with Kylian where reader had a really hard life working full time sometimes overtime and multiple jobs with an abusive family while going to school like her sister would bully her, mom abuse her and dad was neglectful and her jobs were terrible too like she has burns from working fast food and him being emotional and shocked because she is so happy all the time and her finally deciding to tell him after a long time like something like a fight or something like he proposes to her makes her tell him and how she is scared to trust him and tells him shes looking to get married»

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 11.k

Warnings! ANGST!! Abuse, abusive family, injury, violence, burns, referencing to past hurts, depictions of violence, insecurities, anxiety, trauma, self-conscious reader, anxious reader FLUFF! lots of comfort, protective Kylian, he would kill for you, mild smut at the end, unprotected sex, soft sex, soft Kylian

The restaurant was busier than usual tonight.

Every table seemed to fill as quickly as it was cleared, and you found yourself darting between the kitchen and the dining area without a moment to catch your breath. The clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices blended into a chaotic symphony around you.

The only thing you could do to get the orders done on time was to run. Your feet were aching in pain, you were so tired you felt like collapsing to the ground. Your hands were shaking, you were holding three plates in one hand.

Despite the ache in your legs and the fatigue weighing down your shoulders, you pushed forward. You had to.

This is how your typical day went— gruesome, tiring, a relentless cycle of exhaustion that demanded everything you had to give.

As you hurried past a table, a customer’s voice cut through the chaos, harsh and dismissive.

“Hey!” the man shouted, “You messed up my order again.”

You froze, the plates of food suddenly too heavy to hold. Your heart sank as you turned around to face the angry customer. You immediately recognized him. Sam.

He had come to the restaurant a few weeks ago and tried to flirt with you. You turned him down, and ever since, he had made it his mission to make your life a living hell.

He comes in every day and just harasses you, knowing you can't really do anything about him because he's a customer.

You're usually good at handling the situation, most of the time just letting him run his mouth. Mostly just insults and catcalls. You endure it. But he's been ordering drinks all night, and the restaurant is packed.

Using all the patience you could muster, you took a deep breath and made your way to him. “I apologize, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

“I said you messed up my order, bitch,” he growled.

You flinched at his tone, feeling the familiar sting of shame. But you kept your composure. “I apologize for the inconvenience. May I know what you ordered so that I can correct the problem?”

Before you could take note of his order, he stood up. “Fuck you,” he sneered. He threw the glass of liquid at you. The strong alcoholic smell tells you that it's whiskey.

The cool beverage soaked your clothes, a stark contrast to the warmth of the burns you received earlier from the grill. You didn’t even notice the pain anymore, the stinging sensation was normal now.

“Get m-me a new... new drink!” he continued. His voice grew louder, and you could hear his slurred words. Drunk.

You could feel eyes on you, but you tried not to look anywhere. The customers and the waiters were all staring. You felt the hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Excuse me." You heard a man's voice from the table next to Sam's. You looked over. A tall, handsome man was looking at you with concern.

He was seated with a group of friends, all of whom had stopped their conversation to watch the unfolding scene. The man stood up, his presence commanding immediate attention.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, his voice calm yet firm. His eyes, kind yet resolute, met yours for a brief moment before shifting to Sam.

Sam sneered at the newcomer. "This doesn't concern you," he slurred, his words barely coherent. "This is between me and her."

The man stepped closer, his posture unyielding, his body shielding you from Sam's view. For some reason, you felt safe with him here. "It does concern me. You're being abusive, and that's not acceptable."

Sam's face twisted in anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he spat, trying to push the man away. But the man didn't budge.

With a calm yet authoritative voice, the unnamed man responded, "I'm someone who won't stand by and let you treat her like this." His tone was steady, unwavering, and it seemed to cut through the drunken haze clouding Sam's mind.

Sam glared at him, his drunken bravado faltering. "Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?" he challenged, though his voice wavered slightly.

The man glanced around, noticing the restaurant manager approaching with what seemed to be a concerned look. But you knew better.

Richard’s never cared for your well-being or any of his employees, for that matter. He was a money-hungry man who only cared about the restaurant’s reputation and how much money we were bringing in.

Working for him was a nightmare, but you had no choice. This was the highest-paying job you had and the only reason why you could pay your tuition for the semester.

He approached quickly, his eyes flicking between Sam and the newcomer, assessing the situation.

“Is everything alright here?” Richard asked, his voice tight. His eyes were piecing daggers at your form, and you subconsciously cowarded into the man standing next to you.

“Actually, it’s not,” the man said, turning to Richard. “This customer has been harassing your staff. It needs to stop.”

Richard’s expression hardened, though he managed a tight smile. “I see. I’ll handle it from here.” He glanced at you, a warning in his eyes, before turning to Sam. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Sam’s drunken rage flared again. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m a paying customer!” He shoved his chair back, nearly toppling it over, and lunged at Richard. But before he could do any more damage, the stranger intervened, stepping between them with practiced ease.

“Let’s not make this any worse,” the man said calmly, placing a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve had too much to drink. It’s time to go.” As he said that, two men from the table he was previously sat at stood up to join him, their presence reinforcing his authority. Sam looked between the three men, his drunken bravado quickly dissipating into defeat.

Richard, seizing the moment, nodded curtly. "I'll call you a cab," he said, signaling to one of the other waitstaff to assist. Sam, now subdued, allowed himself to be led away, grumbling under his breath but offering no further resistance.

The tension in the room slowly dissipated, and you felt your shoulders sag with relief while your stomach turned with dread. Richard was going to make you pay for this. For losing a customer. For causing a scene.

The tall, handsome man turned back to you, his expression softening. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his eyes scanning your soaked clothes and the fatigue etched on your face.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you with a slight quiver. "Yes, thank you. I’m sorry you had to get involved."

He shook his head, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Don't be. No one should have to deal with that alone. I'm Kylian."

"Y/N," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Kylian said warmly, his eyes never leaving yours. He was about to say something else when Richard interrupted.

"Y/N I need to speak with you, now," Richard barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kylian must've seen the fear in your eyes because he stepped closer to you, almost shielding you from Richard. Your heart fluttered at his gesture but you knew what would happen if you didn't listen.

You reached out a shaky hand and tapped him on the shoulder, your eyes silently communicating that you were okay. He stared at you for a second analyzing your features before nodding slightly and stepping out of the way, making you face Richard again.

Richard’s eyes narrowed at the interaction, wondering How you knew Kylian Mbappé. But decided not to say anything. He looked at you. "Go change your clothes. Meet me in my office in 10 minutes."

You nodded looking at Kylian one more time before scurrying away.

****

Kylian watched you leave, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. Something about you tugged at his heart, drawing him in.

He had first noticed you when he came in. You were a small, maybe 5'0. Your hair was dark, but he could tell it was dyed, your natural color peeking from the roots. You had soft eyes and full lips that seemed to curve into a smile every time you took an order. Your uniform hung loose on you, he could tell you were thin, but not in a healthy way. He had to do a double-take when he saw your name tag.

Y/N.

For some reason, it causes butterflies to erupt in his stomach. He decided then that before the night ended, he would talk to you. Charm you. Get your number.

He spent the whole night watching you as you bustled around the restaurant, taking orders and delivering food with a grace that belied the chaos that seemed to surround you.

And then he saw Sam. The way he talked to you, the way he treated you, made Kylian's blood boil. He had been about to intervene when you came over to Sam’s table, and it was then that he noticed your arm.

Peaking just out of your sleeve was what looked like a burn. It was red, fresh. The sight made his heart clench. What happened to you? Did it hurt?

When Sam started yelling at you, Kylian knew he couldn't stay seated anymore. He stood up and had to fight the urge to punch Sam in the face when he threw a drink at you.

The restaurant bustled around Kylian as he watched you hurry away. Without thinking, his feet moved to follow you, but Hakimi caught his arm. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I just... I need to make sure she's okay," Kylian said, his voice filled with concern.

His friend raised an eyebrow but nodded, letting go of his arm. The look on Kylian's face was unlike anything he had ever seen. The pure concern in his eyes was so heavy that it took him back. He had never seen such desperation in the man. All to follow you.

Kylian nodded and made his way towards the back of the restaurant, following the path you had taken.

Meanwhile, in the small staff restroom, you stood in front of the mirror, trying to steady your breathing. The whiskey-soaked uniform clung to your skin, and the cold, damp fabric made you shiver. But the chill didn’t compare to the icy fear that gripped your heart.

Richard was going to be furious. You had to figure out how to calm him down before it was too late. You pulled off your uniform and began to change, your hands shaking as you tried to button up your spare shirt. You were so tired. Your body felt like a weight was pressing down on it, making it impossible to move.

A knock at the door startled you out of your reverie. “Hello, are you okay? Do you need any help?” a deep voice called out.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you realized it was Kylian. You quickly finished changing and opened the door, revealing him standing there, concern etched on his face. His eyes softened as he took in your appearance, still damp from the spilled drink but now clad in fresh clothes.

"Hey," he said gently, eyes scanning your figure for injuries. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You managed a small, grateful smile, touched by his genuine concern. "Thank you, I'm okay," you replied softly, though you couldn't hide the lingering unease in your eyes.

He nodded, his expression serious yet comforting. "Is there anything I can do?" Kylian asked, his tone sincere.

Before you could respond, a sharp voice interrupted from behind him. "Y/N, my office. Now." It was Richard, his impatience palpable.

You glanced nervously at Kylian, who met your gaze with a look you couldn't decipher. You forced a weak smile before hurrying past him towards Richard's office.

****

Kylian stood rooted to the spot, watching you disappear down the hallway. His stomach twisted with worry. But then he heard Richard’s voice, his words barely concealed by the thin office door. Kylian felt a knot of anger in his chest as he heard Richard berate you.

You were fired.

Kylian clenched his fists, barely controlling the urge to barge in and set Richard straight. But he knew that would only make things worse for you.

As soon as he saw you leave Richard’s office, he made his way over to you. “Are you okay,” he repeated. It's all he seemed to ask you since you met him. It made your heart flutter how much he cared. Even if he didn't know you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He felt his chest clench with regret. If he had known Richard was going to fire you, he would've never left you alone. “yeah, I'm fine, ” you sniffled, forcing a smile.

He reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. Your skin was soft, delicate. You froze at his touch and he quickly removed his hand.

Contrôle toi, mon vieux, c'est pas le temps. He scolded himself.

The air became awkward as you stared at each other. His fingers itched to touch you again. He cleared his throat breaking the silence. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his voice low. You shook your head.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

Kylian sighed. He couldn't leave you like this. “Can I at least drive you home?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

You hesitated, your instincts telling you to refuse, but the exhaustion in your body won you over. "I... I guess that would be okay," you murmured.

Kylian's face brightened with relief. "Great. Let me just grab my things."

As he walked back to his table to collect his belongings, you took a moment to steady yourself. Tonight had been draining, emotionally and physically, and the idea of spending a few more moments with him was strangely comforting.

You didn't know what to make of Kylian's attention, but right now, you would enjoy every bit you could get.

Kylian returned quickly, his friends giving him knowing looks as he walked away. He led you to the door, a protective hand gently guiding you out of the crowded restaurant.

****

The car ride was quiet, with the only sound being the soft hum of the music playing from the speakers. You couldn't help but stare at Kylian as he drove.

He was handsome. Tall and lean. His skin was dark, a soft brown. His eyes were brown, the deepest you had ever seen. He had nice lips and a sharp jawline.

He looked back at you every now and then, checking that you were still there. The gesture made a warmth bloom in your chest.

Never had anyone stood up for you the way he had. A complete stranger at that. Even though you had just met, and it was stupid of you to get into a stranger's car and let him drive you home. You had never felt more safe than in this moment. With him. Beside him.

You wanted him to keep driving, take you far away from everything.

The halt of the car jolted you out of your trance. Kylian looked at you, his eyes soft. "We're here," he said. "Is this your house?"

You nodded, not wanting to get out.

Kylian got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. He took your hand, helping you out, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You didn't want him to let go. "Thank you for everything," you said softly, shyly glancing up at him.

He smiled, his lips curving up and his eyes twinkling. "Anytime Y/N."

And with that, you turned around and made your way to the house.

****

Kylian watched as you disappeared behind the front door. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts consumed by you. He missed you already.

He had never felt this way about someone before. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt a strange pull towards you, a feeling he couldn’t explain. All he knew was he wanted to spend more time with you. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to hold you.

Kylian made his way back into his car, starting the engine and pulling away from your house. His mind was whirling with thoughts of you.

Just as he pulled into his driveway he remembered something. He never got your number.

****

It was weeks before you would see him again.

This time at the bookstore you worked at. He walked in with a teenager by his side. And judging by the uncanny resemblance between the two, you could tell they were brothers.

You felt your stomach drop at the sight of him. Before he could notice you, you quickly fixed the scarf around your neck where your father's handprint lay fresh and prayed to God your concealer was thick enough to mask the bruise on your face.

You busied yourself behind the counter, stealing glances when you could. They were in the school supplies section, browsing. His brother was animatedly discussing something with him, his gestures mirroring Kylian's in a way that was both heartwarming and bittersweet for you.

You smoothed your scarf nervously, a habit that now concealed more than just your attire, hiding the marks you hoped no one would notice.

As they approached the checkout, Kylian looked up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

Your throat felt dry and your knees grew weak. The stare he was giving you was an intense one. One that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You stayed like that for a while. Just staring at each other. His brother stood beside him oblivious to the unspoken exchange, chattering on excitedly.

Then he smiled. It was a gentle smile, one that made you feel warm. He began to walk towards you leaving his brother behind to do more browsing and approached the counter. Your heart pounded in your chest and your mouth felt dry.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. But you didn't know what.

"Hi," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He leaned forward on the counter, his body angling towards you in a way that felt like a secret. You felt his scent surround you. It was spicy and musky. Your chest fluttered in response.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he said, his voice filled with a longing. Your heart skipped a beat. The tone of his voice, the way he was looking at you. It was almost overwhelming. Never had someone regarded you with such care, such intent.

You felt like a flower being basked in the warm sunlight for the first time.

You managed a small smile. "Yeah, me too," you said, your voice small.

He smiled back. Your stomach clenched. You love his smile. Love the way it made you feel safe, wanted.

He looked like he was about to say something when his brother interrupted him, holding a stack of supplies. "Kylian, come pay for this," his brother said. Kylian nodded, reaching for his wallet.

As he began to unload the stuff from his brother's arms onto the counter, his gaze locked with yours again. He didn't speak but instead held your eyes with an intensity you couldn't understand.

You managed to break the contact by looking down and started to ring up the items.

When you were done and Kylian had paid, his brother thanked you. His smile was sweet and genuine. Kylian looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

You felt like he was trying to say something, but he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out and took one of your hands in his. His palm was warm. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the contact.

"Can I have your number?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. You felt a warmth spread in your chest at his words.

You froze at his words. No one had ever asked you for your number before. At least, no boy.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. The idea of giving out your number both excited and terrified you. Did you really want to be his friend? As your stepmother always said you tend to bring more harm than good into people's life.

And Kylian was such a good person.

Could you really burden him like that? Suffocate him with your baggage. You weren't meant to be loved. Clearly. After all even your own father didn't want you. Why would he?

You knew that once he got to know the truth about you he would run for the hills. You didn't want to get attached to him only for him to leave you. Heck, you could already feel yourself tearing up at the thought.

But then, looking into Kylian's earnest eyes, you saw something different. Something you both desperately craved. The need to be loved. To be seen.

Slowly, you nodded, your heart racing. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely audible but filled with a newfound resolve.

Relief washed over Kylian's face, followed by a soft smile that lit up his features. He's so beautiful, you thought. He handed you his phone, the screen already lit up with the phone app open. With trembling fingers, you entered your number, feeling nerves twisting in your guts.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he took back his phone, typing a quick message to ensure your number was saved. Your phone pinged beside you, the screen lighting up with the message 'Hi.' from an unknown number. You couldn't help but smile.

Unbeknownst to you, Kylian saw it. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever met. And he's met a lot of women. It was no secret to the world that Kylian Mbappé was a heartthrob, sought after by many.

But in that quiet moment at the bookstore counter, he gave himself to you. Mind, soul, and hopefully if all goes according to his plan, body.

He was yours.

He emptied out the space in his heart and placed you there, a refuge from the stormy world you knew too well. It scared him what he was ready to do for you. After all, he didn't even know you.

And yet, in that instant, everything felt right. His instincts, usually so finely tuned on the field, told him that you were worth the risk.

As he glanced at his brother, who was waiting impatiently by the door, Kylian knew he had to go, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

"I have to run," he said reluctantly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I really want to talk to you more. Can we meet sometime?"

His question once again made you hesitate. But looking into his soft brown eyes made you melt. So you decided right then that you would enjoy his company for as long as he wanted you and would mourn his loss when he would eventually leave.

You nodded, unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. "Sure," you managed to say, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness.

"Great," he replied, his smile widening. "I'll text you."

With that, he squeezed your hand gently before turning to leave with his brother, who was now calling him urgently. You watched them walk away, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you—hope, disbelief, and a hint of fear.

As the door closed behind them, you leaned back against the counter, replaying the brief encounter in your mind. Could this be real? Was this some sick prank your stepsister was playing on you?

The last thought wasn't far-fetched considering all the other horrible things she had done to you. But for once you hope with all your might that it wasn't.

You glanced at your phone, seeing his message still displayed. The word "Hi." seemed to hold so much promise.

For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy.

****

The weeks that followed were amazing.

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Kylian, your heart skipped a beat. He was surprisingly persistent, often texting just to check in, share something funny, or ask about your day. Each conversation felt like a lifeline, a small escape from the turmoil of your daily life.

It felt good to have someone care.

You met Kylian a few more times after that encounter at the bookstore.

He would invite you to charming little places tucked away in the quieter parts of the city, where the two of you could talk for hours without interruption. Where you could forget the bad shit in your life and simply enjoy his company.

Kylian was easy to talk to, his presence soothing and his laughter infectious. He listened with genuine interest when you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours as if you were the girl person in the world. The only thing that mattered.

He introduced you to a side of life you had never known—A life you had only ever dreamed about. A complete contrast to the coldness you were used to. A glimpse of what could be if you dared to dream.

But as much as light Kylian brought into your life, doubts gnawed at you.

How long until he left you? How long until he saw the bruises you couldn’t hide? The pain you couldn't mask?

You feared the day he would look at you with pity or, worse, regret. Each time he texted or called, a small part of you braced for disappointment.

But that day never came.

Instead, he surprised you. Time and time again. Like right now.

You stood outside the bookstore, your breath fogging up in the cool evening air. Kylian had texted you earlier, asking if you could meet him after your shift.

His messages were usually funny and easygoing, but this one had a sort of seriousness that made you nervous.

As you waited, you replayed last night. He had Facetimed you late into the night, just to chat about nothing and everything. Like you usually did, but something was different that time. He was flirting with you.

At first, you thought it was just your imagination. How could Kylian Mbappé possibly have a crush on you? But as the night wore on and the playful glint in his eyes and compliments got more and more obvious, you couldn't deny it anymore.

Not with the way he looked at you through the screen. The way his voice softened when he said your name—it all pointed to one undeniable truth.

One you were too afraid to face.

"Hey," a familiar voice called out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned to see Kylian's head peeking out of his G-Wagon, waving at you. His smile was as bright as ever, making your heart race.

"Hey," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. You walked over quickly, excited.

As you approached the car, he opened the passenger door for you, always the gentleman. "Hop in," he said, his tone cheerful but with an undertone of something more serious.

You settled into the seat, the warmth of the car contrasting to the chilly evening outside. Kylian glanced at you, his eyes lingering on your face a moment longer than usual. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softening.

You nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired from work."

He seemed to accept your answer, though his eyes still held a hint of concern. "I thought we could hang out at my place," he said, starting the car.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Sure," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions within you. You had never been to his place. The idea of spending time at his place felt both thrilling and intimidating.

The drive was filled with easy conversation, Kylian telling you about his day at training and a funny story about Hakimi and Ousmane. You laughed at his stories, feeling more at ease with each passing minute.

It wasn't long before you arrived at his apartment, marveling at the modern building towering above you. Kylian led you inside, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, a touch that made your skin tingle.

His place was spacious and elegant, filled with personal touches that made it feel warm and inviting. You noticed photographs of his family, friends, and teammates scattered around, giving you an intimate glimpse into his life.

"Make yourself at home," he said, smiling as he gestured to the living room. "Want something to drink? Water, juice, maybe some tea?"

"Tea please," you replied, settling onto the large plush couch. You watched as he moved to the kitchen, his movements fluid and graceful. It was hard to believe that he was real sometimes. You felt lucky that you got to know him like this. See him like this.

When he returned with two steaming mugs, you accepted yours gratefully, wrapping your hands around it for warmth. He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body.

"So," he began, his tone casual but his eyes serious. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Oh, no.

Your heart skipped a beat, anxiety creeping in. Was this it? Was this him leaving you? Telling you he didn't want to be friends with you anymore?

But instead of delivering bad news, Kylian's expression softened, his gaze gentle yet determined. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you," he said sincerely, his voice quiet in the cozy ambiance of his living room. "And I want to be honest with you."

You held your breath, unsure of where his words would lead.

"I like you," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "More than just as a friend."

Your heart pounded in your chest, disbelief evident on your face. What?

"I've been thinking a lot about us," he confessed, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "About you. And every time I do, I realize how much I care about you. Want to be with you." He reached out, gently holding your hands in his large ones.

Your mind reeled, trying to process his words. Did he really mean what he was saying? Or was this all some cruel joke?

You glanced at him, your eyes meeting his, searching for any hint of it being a lie. But all you saw was sincerity. The same sincerity you had come to know from him.

He truly believed what he was saying. But how?

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your chest fluttered at the thought of him liking you romantically.

"I mean I want to be with you," he said simply, his eyes holding yours. "As your boyfriend if that's something you want too."

Your heart pounded harder at his words, and you felt a rush of emotions flood through you—surprise, joy, and a lingering trace of fear. The idea of someone like Kylian wanting to be with you romantically seemed almost too good to be true.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to steady it. You looked down at your hands, unsure of how to process your feelings.

Kylian squeezed your hands gently, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to say anything right now," he said softly. "Take your time. I just wanted you to know how I feel."

His words were comforting, his presence grounding. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze once more. "I... I like you too," you confessed, "But... I don't know if you should." Your voice was shaky as you whispered the words.

Kylian's brows furrowed at your words.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His concern was evident in his eyes, but there was also a determination that showed he would be easily dissuaded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "Because... because I'm not... I'm not who you think I am," you admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable. "There are things about me... things I haven't told you."

Kylian listened attentively, his expression softening as he waited for you to continue. "I have a lot of baggage," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "And... and sometimes things happen that... that I can't control." You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't want to burden you with my problems."

He was silent for a moment, processing your words. When he spoke again, his voice was steady, soft, loving. "You're not a burden," he said firmly, lifting your chin gently so you had to meet his gaze. The intensity in them made your heart beat faster. "Whatever you've been through, whatever you're facing... you don't have to face it alone." His eyes searched yours. "I care about you," he continued softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "And I want to be there for you, in whatever way you'll let me."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "But... what if... what if you find out things about me and you..." Your voice broke, the fear of rejection clawing at your heart. You couldn't lose him. Not with how well he treats you. How he makes you feel. You need him.

Kylian's expression softened even more, his eyes desperately trying to convey the deep affection he felt for you. "I'm not going anywhere," he said gently, his words filled with conviction. "I want to know all of you, Y/N. The good, the bad, everything." He paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words. "If you'll let me."

You searched his eyes, finding only sincerity. You were so used to people lying to you that you had become a master at sniffing it out. But his eyes held no lie. Only truth. A truth that made your heart explode.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be real. A chance at happiness you never thought possible.

"I... I want to try," you said finally, your voice wavering. You cleared your throat and repeated, "I want to be with you."

A smile spread across Kylian's face at your words. Yes, he thought doing a little victory dance in his head. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands still gently holding yours. "Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you for giving us a chance."

The stare between the two of you grew heavy, a longing for something more.

As if sensing your thoughts, Kylian's eyes dropped to your lips, his gaze lingering there a moment before moving back to meet your eyes. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought of his lips on yours. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible but dripping with need.

Without hesitation, Kylian leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was a slow, tender kiss that sent shivers down your spine and made your heart flutter in your chest. Your first kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in him, your hearts beating in tandem.

When the kiss ended, it left you breathless, Kylian smiling against your lips. "You're mine now," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. "And I'm never letting you go."

****

The warm air from the heater greeted you as you walked further into your house. You were just coming back from the library after completing a group project that was due next week.

It had gone well, despite the stress the people you were working with brought you.

Your mind wandered briefly to Kylian, as it often did now whenever you found a moment of peace. You guys were official now. And every moment has been nothing but pure bliss.

You finally felt like you were starting to understand what happiness was.

You closed the door behind you sighing with relief, grateful for the warmth after enduring the cold at the bus stop. You missed the first bus and had to wait for the second one in the freezing cold. All you wanted now was to get into bed and text Kylian until you feel asleep.

You were taking off your shoes when you felt it. A hand yanking the back of your hair, pulling your head backward. You tried to scream but a slap silenced you.

"Thought you were smart, didn't you?" your stepmother spat, her voice filled with malice. "Thought you could fool us? You whore!" She let go of your hair, giving you a hard shove. You stumbled backward, landing on your hands and knees.

"So this is why you've been coming back home with that stupid smile on your face every day. You're fucking Kylian Mbappé," she hissed, her eyes blazing with anger.

Your heart sank.

How did she know? Had your stepsister told her? How did they find out?

You had to get out of there or they would...

You scrambled to your feet, ready to run, but a kick in your stomach sent you falling back down. Your stepmother loomed over you, her eyes wild with rage. "You fucking slut!" She kicked you hard in the ribs. "You little whore!" She kicked you again, making you double over in pain. "You will regret ever looking at him," she threatened as she continued to beat you. You were powerless against her kicks and slaps.

She stopped finally, panting. "Get up," she snarled, her voice filled with hate. "Now!"

You struggled to get up, your body screaming in pain. Your stepsister was watching you with hatred in her eyes. She was holding your phone. The same phone that had the lock screen image of you and Kylian from a recent outing. His arm was around your shoulders, both of you laughing at something silly he had said.

The picture had been taken by a fan who had asked to take a photo with Kylian. But she had noticed him put his arm around you, and instead of asking for a selfie, she had snapped a photo of the two of you instead.

It was your favorite picture, something you looked at whenever you needed to be reminded that all of this was real. That you weren't dreaming. That someone like Kylian truly cared for you.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you watched your stepsister throw your phone on the floor, her heel stomping on it.

The screen shattered under her heel.

You wanted to cry, but you were too scared. You had seen the anger in your stepmother's eyes. You knew you would be dead if you cried.

"You'll pay for this," your stepsister sneered, glaring at you with all the hate in the world.

You yelped as your stepmother grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. "You'll learn your place," she snarled, her breath hot against your ear. "And we'll teach you."

A whimper escaped you as she dragged you toward the basement, your stepsister following close behind.

You knew what was coming.

Your heart raced with fear as they dragged you towards the basement, the familiar dread tightening your chest. Each step hurt you as they dragged you down them. They would leave bruises that would last weeks. You know this from experience.

Your mind raced looking for a way out, but finding none. There never was. But for some reason, you held out hope.

The basement door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room that smelled of dampness and decay. This was where they often took their anger out on you, where their punishments lurked in the shadows, waiting to be inflicted.

You trembled as they shoved you forward, the concrete floor cold against your hands and knees.

"Please," you managed to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. But your stepmother's grip on your hair tightened, silencing any further plea. The air thickened as they circled around you. Like vultures. Predators.

And you were the prey.

"You think you're better than us," your stepsister spat, her face contorted with venom. "Fucking him just because he's famous. Pathetic. He doesn't want you anyway, look at you."

You bit back tears, fighting the urge to scream, knowing it would only provoke them further. Her words stung more than the cuts on your body. And your mind started to believe her.

Maybe she was right.

Pain seared through you as another blow landed. In the haze of torment, you closed your eyes, desperately clinging to the memory of Kylian's warmth, his gentle words.

His face, his smile, the way he defended you against the world. You would miss him.

You knew this was the end. You could feel it.

Your body was numb and you were dipping in and out of consciousness, the pain and fear overwhelming. As darkness threatened to consume you, memories of Kylian flooded your mind.

You recalled the first time you met him, how his genuine kindness had shattered the walls around your heart. The quiet moments stolen between you, where he'd hold your hand and promise you a future where no one could hurt you. Leaving sweet kisses on your lips.

You'll miss his eyes the most, you think. Those deep, comforting eyes that always saw through your pain and whispered hope into your soul. Even now, battered and broken, he's all you can think of.

As darkness closed in, you clung to the image of him, willing yourself to survive for him, for the promise of a better tomorrow he represented.

Despite the agony, a faint smile flickered on your lips as you drifted into unconsciousness, imagining his arms around you, shielding you from the cruelty of the world.

****

Kylian was a man of instinct.

It's why he dominated on the field and off. His senses were sharp, attuned to the slightest shifts in energy around him. Never missing the slightest detail.

That's why, when he hadn't heard from you all evening, a knot of unease twisted in his gut.

You had always texted him after getting home, no matter how late. It was a routine for you. And you were a very routine-oriented person, so he knew you didn't forget.

As the hours ticked by without a word from you, Kylian's concern grew into a gnawing worry.

He replayed the events of the day in his mind, recalling your smile as you parted ways after he'd dropped you off at the library. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to his lips, but it did little to ease his growing anxiety.

He had offered to pick you but you had declined. You could tell he was tired from training and you didn't know when you would be done. So you told him you would take the bus instead and promised to call him.

He tried calling you, but each attempt went straight to voicemail. Panic began to creep into his chest, tightening with each unanswered ring. He paced his living room, his mind racing through possibilities, none of them pleasant.

Finally, unable to wait any longer, Kylian made a decision. Grabbing his car keys, he headed out into the freezing night, his thoughts consumed with finding you, needing to ensure you were safe.

The drive to your house felt agonizingly long. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, urging the car to move faster. When he finally pulled up outside your home, a chilling sense of dread settled over him. Something wasn't right. At all.

He approached the front door cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest. The warm glow of light spilled out from the windows, contrasting sharply with the darkness that seemed to loom over the house. Kylian hesitated for only a moment before reaching out to knock.

No response.

His knocks grew louder, more insistent, but still, no one answered. Frustration and fear surged within him as he contemplated his next move. With a surge of determination, he tried the doorknob, praying it would yield. To his relief and horror, it did.

As he stepped inside, the silence of the house enveloped him like a suffocating blanket. "Y/N? Mrs. Y/L/N?" he called out, his voice echoing through the hallway. No reply came.

The uneasiness deepened with each step he took further into the house. Every room he checked yielded no sign of you or anyone else. That is, until he reached the basement door.

A chill ran down his spine as he slowly opened the creaking door, revealing a scene that shattered his heart and ignited a rage unlike any he had ever felt. There you were, battered and bruised, huddled on the cold concrete floor.

Unconscious.

Kylian's world froze as he took in the sight before him. His heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of you, vulnerable and broken on the basement floor. Rage surged through him, raw and primal, as he knelt beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your bruised face.

"Y/N, baby" he whispered, his voice choked with anguish and disbelief. "What have they done to you?"

His hands trembled as he carefully lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. The bruises on your skin, the cuts that marred your once vibrant spirit, filled him with a fury he could barely contain. Tears blurred his vision as he held you close, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance, though he knew you couldn't hear him in your unconscious state.

He doesn't remember when or how he called the ambulance, but he did.

All he could focus on was you, your safety, your well-being. The minutes waiting for help felt like an eternity, his heart pounding with fear.

When the paramedics arrived, Kylian reluctantly let them take you, his hands lingering on yours as they wheeled you away. He couldn't bear to leave your side, but he knew he had to. He had justice to seek for what had been done to you.

He would make sure they rot. They would burn for what they did to you.

Hours passed in a blur of interviews, statements, and waiting. Kylian refused to rest, his mind consumed with thoughts of you, praying silently for your recovery. He felt powerless, haunted by the image of your broken form in that basement, unable to protect you when you needed him most.

Finally, a doctor approached him with news. You were stable, physically battered but stable. Your ribs were broken and there were numerous bruises and cuts. Burns covered your arms but the doctor said they were old.

The burns he had seeen the first time he met you.

With each word that exited the doctor's he felt himself get weaker and weaker.

Just what have you been going through? And how had he not seen it? He felt like a horrible boyfriend. He had promised to protect but he failed. He failed you.

Kylian stayed by your side as much as the hospital allowed, holding your hand, talking to you, silently willing you to wake up and tell him that you would be okay.

He had called his mother the first night he stayed at the hospital. He knew he would have to leave you to answer police questions and the only person he trusted you to was her.

She was beside him the second he called. She knew something was wrong. He couldn't hide it anymore.

He had broken down in his mother's arms. Telling her everything.

She listened and didn't interrupt him once. She hugged him tighter, kissed his cheek, and whispered 'I'm proud of you' over and over. Then she sat next to him, waiting for you to wake up.

****

The first thing you felt when you woke up was his hand in yours. You blinked, disoriented, trying to recall what happened, but your mind was hazy and clouded. One of your eyes was swollen shut, making it hard to see clearly.

Pain radiated through your body, each breath sending sharp stabs through your chest. You groaned softly, the sound catching Kylian's attention instantly.

"Y/N," he whispered, there was a tremble to his words. "You're awake."

You turned your head towards him, your good eye focusing on his tear-streaked face. His fingers tightened around yours, as if afraid you might slip away again.

"Kylian..." Your voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but the relief in his eyes was palpable.

"Shh, don't try to talk," he murmured, gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. "You're safe now. You're in the hospital. Everything's going to be okay."

You tried to nod, but the effort was too much. Instead, you squeezed his hand lightly, a silent acknowledgment of his words. Kylian's gaze never left your face, his eyes filled with love. Anguish.

The weight of your suffering was etched deeply into his features. He wished he could take your pain away. Switch places with you. Shield you. Protect you from all this. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have been there. I should have known."

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him it wasn't his fault, but the pain and exhaustion were too overwhelming. Instead, you gave his hand another gentle squeeze, hoping he understood.

Kylian leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer his strength to you. The quiet hum of the hospital room, the distant beeping of machines, and the rhythmic pulse of your heartbeat were the only sounds, grounding him in this moment.

His mother, who had been silently watching from the corner of the room, approached with a soft smile. "She's awake, Kylian. That's a good sign," she whispered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Kylian nodded, though the tightness in his chest didn't ease. He was grateful for his mother's presence. Her calm strength a lifeline in this sea of chaos. She had always been his rock, and now she would be yours. Extending that strength to you.

She turned to you and softly introduced herself, "Hi, Y/N. I'm Fayza, Kylian's mother. You're safe now, darling. We will take care of you. You just make sure you get as much rest as possible."

You managed a faint smile, your eyes tearing up at the warmth and kindness in her eyes. For the first time in your life, you felt the love of a mother.

Her words washed over you like water, drowning you in the security that only a maternal figure can make you feel. The tears that you desperately tried to hold in spilled over, tracing silent paths down your cheeks.

Fayza reached out, gently wiping them away with her palm and you found yourself leaning into her touch. But she didn't seem to mind. The room, despite its clinical sterility, seemed a little less cold with her there.

The days that followed were a blur of medical treatments and police interviews. Kylian stayed by your side.

He was there every moment he could be. Fayza took turns with him, ensuring you were never alone. Bring you food that she made and making sure you have everything you need. Especially love.

The police investigation moved forward, and Kylian was relentless in his pursuit of justice for you. He spent hours with the authorities, providing every detail he could remember, every scrap of evidence he could find. His determination was fueled by the image of you in that basement, a memory that haunted him and drove him forward.

Throughout your recovery, Kylian's teammates and friends offered their support. You were scared to meet them at first, afraid they would hate you for dragging their friend into your mess.

But they loved you. Becoming super overprotective and treating you like a little sister. They visited the hospital often, bringing flowers, cards, food. Anything you wanted.

Physical therapy was the hardest.

Your body was broken, to say the least. Fractured collar bone, multiple broken ribs, a bruised lung, and a concussion that seemed to cloud your thinking.

Everyday was a battle a war within yourself.

Kylian was your constant companion through it all, encouraging you during the grueling sessions, holding your hand when the pain became unbearable.

It was weird at first having someone care for you like that.

But Kylian made it easy.

He learned your routine, anticipated your needs, and cheered your small victories as if they were monumental achievements. His love and patience never wavered, even on your toughest days. He was your anchor.

The worst of it was when he saw your scars for the first time helping you get ready for a bath.

He had been so careful, so gentle, as he helped you undress, but the moment his eyes fell on them, his breath caught in his throat. The sight of them, a cruel testament to the pain you had endured, tore at his heart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling suddenly exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. Ugly. He was the first guy to see you like this and you hated how this bruised body was all you had to offer. But he didn't mind.

In fact that was the moment he realized he loved you.

His fingers traced the lines of your scars, as if to erase them. To erase the horrible past that caused them. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Every part of you."

You blinked back tears, overwhelmed by his words. "I don't feel strong," you admitted softly, your voice trembling.

Kylian cupped your face gently in his hands, his eyes locked on yours. "You survived," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That's strength, Y/N. You're here, fighting every day. That's what matters. And if you can't be strong, let me be your strength. Let me protect you. Let me love you."

You froze at his last sentence.

He had never said those words to you and neither have you to him. Your heart leaped in your chest at the raw honesty of which he said.

This time you didn't hesitate, didn't ponder.

You'd know for a while now that you loved him. How could you not? When he was the man that you prayed for. Your rock, your refuge, your protector, your lover. You loved every inch of this man and Finally. Finally you could tell him.

"I love you too, Kylian Mbappé."

He held you close that night, placing kisses on your shoulder as he held you from behind whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

****

Two years later...

You stood in front of the window, watching the tranquil view. The girl who reflected in the glass looked nothing like the girl from years ago. Your smile was radiant, your eyes sparkling with a happiness that only true love could bring.

Kylian had proposed to you six months ago, after the trial was over. Your family had been found guilty. Turns out your stepmother and sister were on the run. They thought they killed you that night so they fled, along with your father.

The thought of them being okay with just leaving your corpse to rot in the basement made your stomach turn every time you thought about it.

You shook the thoughts away. you weren't about to let them ruin your day. not anymore.

Your wedding was small. A private ceremony with close friends and family. You had chosen a beautiful vineyard as the setting, overlooking rolling hills and sun-kissed grapevines. The familiar scent of roses and freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the laughter of your guests.

The afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows that danced along the paths between rows of vines.

Kylian stood at the end of the aisle, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that still made your heart skip a beat. He wore a classic black tuxedo that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. Looking absolutely amazing.

You really married him.

Ethan walked you down the aisle. The two of you had gotten really close after Kylian had officially introduced you. He considered you family, a big sister. Someone he could come to for advice, which he often did. He was super protective sometimes rivaling Kylian.

Which was saying something.

Ever since Kylian found you in that basement, battered and bruised, he felt this urge to always be by your side. This urgent need. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved you. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

You were his whole world. The love of his life. His last love. The reason his heart beats.

As Ethan placed your hand in Kylian's, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everyone in a warm, golden light. Kylian looked like he was glowing. You will never forget that view for as long as you live.

Now that you were closer, you realized he was crying. You smiled at your groom, feeling the weight of your love for him in your chest.

Kylian's eyes locked on yours, love pouring out of them. You knew he would love you for all eternity. And you loved him the same. You were home.

"I love you," you whispered softly, looking into his eyes.

Kylian's lips curved into a sweet smile, his voice filled with emotion. "Je t'aime, mon âme."

The officiant pronounced you husband and wife, and Kylian swept you into a passionate kiss, the cheers of your guests fading into the background. In his arms, you felt whole, complete.

And you both knew that no matter what came next, you would face it together. You had found each other in this chaotic world, and nothing else mattered.

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist pull you out of your daydream as soft kisses are placed on your shoulder. You lean back into Kylian's embrace, smiling as his lips travel up your neck.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" he asks, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn around, meeting his eyes.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you," you reply honestly. "About how much you've changed my life."

Kylian's arms tighten around you. "You're the one that's changed my life, Y/N. You're my reason for living." He tilts your chin up, capturing your gaze. "And I promise you, mon amour, that I'll love you until the day I die. That I'll make you happy for all eternity. Je t'aime." He seals his promise with a burning kiss.

The type that leaves your skin burning and heat pooling between your thighs.

His arms around you grow tighter as his kiss grows deeper. Soon he's walking you backwards to the bed. You fall on your back with a laugh but it's silenced by another kiss.

He starts to take off his shirt. You can barely think straight at the sight of his abs. Even after two years of having him to yourself you still get weak in the knees. Your panties already damp from that kiss.

His lips start traveling south as he pulls up the shirt you're wearing(his), exposing your body to him. The softness of the bed comforts your back as his heavy form press more into you. You gasp into his wet mouth, feeling his covered hardness press against your thigh.

His hands push up your shirt and massage the softness of your tummy on his way up to your covered breast. He backs from your lips to look at your fluttering eyes. “Can I?” his voice deep with lust and adoration for you, no matter how many times the two of you do this, he’s never lost the habit of asking.

“Always,” you whisper against his swollen lips, pulling him back into your lips. He lifts your shirt over your head and unclasps your bra, rubbing his thumbs over your harding buds. You moan from the contact into his mouth, a soft groan from his throat in response.

“Kylian,” your voice goes up an octave from the fire of his touches.

“Trésor,” he responds, kissing down your chin to your neck, placing soft kisses into your supple skin. “Je t'aime.”

His fingers slip down to the hem of your panties, pulling them off in one quick motion. He kisses down your belly, placing light kisses all the way down to your inner thigh. You whine, spreading your thighs in invitation.

“Patience, my love,” he chuckles, his breath fanning over your covered heated core. “I want to make you come on my tongue.”

Your eyes flutter close at his words.

He tugs your jeans and underwear off, discarding them somewhere in the spacious hotel room.

His grip is tight on your thighs as he gets down so he's at eye level with your cunt. He groans at the sight, wet and inviting.

A treat.

He places a soft kiss on the folds before taking in as much of you as he can into his mouth. He's good, really good. Your body arches and twitches with every moan ripped from your throat.

He's messy too, with loud slurping and quick inhales mixed with groaning coming from between your legs. You get louder as a coil begins to tighten in your gut, feeling his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it feverishly.

"You taste so fucking good baby. Mhm, love this pussy. Love you." He whispers against your folds. The vibrations send sparks flying throughout your whole body. You can feel yourself getting closer.

A white heat floods your senses as the coil snaps, reaching your toes as you spasm. Kylian drinks up every drop, getting drunk on your taste, chuckling as you push against his head to get him away.

He sits up, chin glistening with your arousal eyes locked on yours, and wipes the excess off with the back of his hand, smirking down at you with lust-blown eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, mon coeur,” He leans down and kisses your neck, nibbling on your skin, making you gasp and whimper.

“Kylian,” you whimper as he presses your leg against your chest. His smile flatters once again, the indents of his nails on your skin now noticeable. He hovers over you, his body covering yours, your small frame drowning in him.

His hand trails down and your eyes follow. He wasn’t small by any means of the word, very much the opposite. Girthy, long, and beautiful. You love every inch of him.

You place your hand against his jaw, bringing his attention to your face. Flushed, teary-eyed, lips puffy and bruised. “Please, I need you,” you whisper, voice already showing signs of another orgasm. Just the thought of him inside you was enough.

He leans down and kisses your nose, pressing his forehead against yours. And with a nod, his weeping tip pushes past your folds and is embraced by soft, clingy gummy walls.

He groans at the feeling, kissing away the tears of pure pleasure that break from your lashes at the intrusion. “You're so tight. Feels so good. Putain,” he whispers into your ear, holding you close as he pushes in. His towering form shadows the lights from your eyes, the difference in size making your head dizzy.

He lets out a startled moan as his hips slam into yours, listening to your guttural moans. “Merde, breathe, breathe baby,” he coos, massaging the tensed muscles of your stomach and hips.

You’re not a virgin by any means but with him, it always feels like the first time. It could have been his size, it could have been that he was the only man to have you. Or maybe, it was because this connection meant more than sex.

You're enveloped in his love. This is otherworldly. Nothing could ever make you feel like this. Feel this good. Nothing. No one.

You giggle and that giggle turns into a laugh, Kylian staring confused, eyebrow-raising.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh but I’m just so in love with you,” You smile, rubbing his arms and pulling him closer. And you mean that with every fiber of your being. You never thought you'd be here. In the arms of the man you love. The man who loves you. It's bliss.

“I love you,” you say again to his shocked face, nothing but the truth in your eyes. You wiggle your leg out from under him and wrap them around his waist, heels tapping his toned ass. Kylian shivers before engulfing you in his embrace, tucking his face into your hair.

“Say it again,” he whispers, rocking his hips into you.

“I love you,” you groan, bliss shooting up your spine. His pace was slow, deep.

“Again,” he hisses, you said it again and again and again, with each time his thrust increases. His breathing is shallow and the wet sounds of your bodies echo through the room. Your poor neighbors. “I love you,” he chokes out through his pants and moans.

The heat of his body invades yours and you feel like you're melting into each other. Sweat from his chest drips onto your lashes and you blink it out, moans bouncing off the walls as his pace quickens, more forceful, slamming into that spot deep inside of you.

“Ohmygod,” you squeal, “Kylian–I-” he slams his lips into yours swallowing all of your sounds. His voice pitches up as his moans increase, breathing heavily onto your face.

His pretty face scrunches up as a loud grunt rips from his mouth, the warmth being dumped inside of you sending you over, clamping down on him harder, gaining a wince from him.

He places his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he stares into your eyes before collapsing onto you, spent and satisfied. His weight comforting, grounding.

You lay there for a while, you rubbing his back as he places kisses on your neck and whispers praises in your ear.

And to think that you would have this forever, have him forever. The thought brings a smile to your lips and you kiss his shoulder.

This man was your everything. your love, your protector, your soulmate. you were his world, his heart beating only for you. He healed you with his love.

Your Kylian.

-Bianca🌻

[girlboypersonthingy]

hiiiii!!!! so i’m thinking of a velvette fic where u meet the vees after having dated her for a bit (a few weeks maybe). you hate them. you think they’re creepy and just assholes, even for being in hell. (you’re a bit more wholesome but yk still a sinner) like you just do NOT like the guys. you’re super worried abt velvette’s reaction to that fact so u try to sugar coat it but she’s just like “thank lucifer! i didn’t want them to be creepy bad influences on u!” and u’re both super relieved. i love her.

Heeyyyy I was wondering when you’d send in a Velvette request ☺️ you got it friend! Enjoyyyy~

TW: Val being a perv 😎 for like one second tho, Velvette gets a bit suggestive,?? Lots of cussing lol

The Only V For Me 💜

“AAHHH!!! Darling, you’re finally here! How was the drive? How was the driver?” Velvette watches as you walk through the doorway of her studio, looking around with big doe eyes at all the bright lights and flashy outfits and really beautiful model demons.

“Velvette!” Before you can say anything more, she’s pulling you into a a deadly tight hug. “It was actually…like way too much, babe. You don’t have to do all that fancy shit for me, ya know? But…yes, it was really nice. Thank you.” Velvette offers you a cheeky smirk followed by a quick kiss to the cheek.

Your darling girlfriend snaps her fingers and yells out a command to one of her assistants. “You! Come here.” She makes a ‘come here’ motion with her finger as she turns her attention back to you, her lips upturned into a smile again, “Are you thirsty? Hungry? Anything you need, you tell her.” She points to her assistant who is now right at your side. “Anything my darling asks for, you get it.” She gives the worker an intimidating glare before winking at you.

“Let me show you around!” Velvette puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you along, pointing things out, explaining them. She is absolutely beaming with pride right now, glancing at you often to see your reaction. As you pass a mannequin clad in a really nice outfit, a gasp comes from Velvette. “Oh my! You know who would look absolutely stunning in this little number?” And now she’s flashing you this flirty grin and her bright red eyes are looking you up and down. Suddenly her smooth demeanor dropped as she grumbled under her breath a bit then sighed deeply.

“Oh, who am I kidding. With Vox and Val both here today, if I dress you in anything more appealing than what you’ve got on now, they will definitely try to steal you from me. You already look too cute…” This pulls a laugh from you but your laugh stops suddenly, stuck in your throat when you see how serious her expression is at the moment.

“Wait. What? What do you mean-“ And suddenly the doors swing open, slamming into the walls behind them as an extremely tall, blue-skinned individual with big red heart shaped glass quickly approaches Velvette, towering over both of you.

“WHERE THE HELL IS VOX?! I’ve been looking for that flat faced fuck all day.” He growls out and you take note of the fact that Velvette doesn’t flinch a bit. “Why the hell are you asking me? If he was here, you’d have found him already.” She snaps back and as the angry man before you was about to screech out another sentence, his expression softened rather quickly as his eyes fell on you.

“Why hello~ who do you have here? Wow! What a gorgeous creature you are. I’m Valentino. What’s your name, sweetheart?” One of his hands slips into yours and as he goes to lift your hand to his lips, Velvette pushes him so hard he nearly falls over.

“Their name is (Y/N), alright? And they are MINE. Now back off, Val.” She hisses in response, now tightly holding your hand, the hand that Val was holding just a second ago. “WHOO! Alright. My apologies, dear. Didn’t know this one was all yours. But I mean FUCK! They just have such nice lips! I mean, look at that mouth. You have the perfect pair of dick sucking li-“

Velvette shouts over him, “SHUT IT!!! You’re actually so vile. Get out of here, Valentino! You’re freaking out my babe.” She gives him another shove, making him frown angrily at her before he stomps off, probably punching a wall or kicking something over as he leaves. Oh, he definitely slams the door again too.

“Alrighty! Where were we?” Velvette seems to relax a bit more, going back to a more chipper and excited attitude as she again shows off all of her impressive work to you. She even got a few models to come do a little show just for you, all of them casually posing and showing off different outfits. Velvette kept asking your opinion, begging you to be ‘bloody honest’ with her.

“Oh, darling! You just have to come over one night and let me dress you up, just us two! Hmm~ I could dress you up and then maybe even…undress you again.” Just as your girlfriend started to flirt with you and as you started to feel more comfortable in this environment-

“Velvette! Happy Friday. Have you seen Val? I haven’t been able to reach him all day. I’m-“ The strong, electric voice that sounded from behind you two made you jump a bit and brought a frightening grimace to Velvette’s face.

“Oh~ Hello. (Y/N), right? Pleased to meet you! I was wondering when our precious like Velvette was gonna bring her play thing over. I’m Vox, creator of Voxtech. You know, on the late night talk show…and the morning talk show. I’m also the news anchor.” He doesn’t really offer you his hand, he more so just reached out and grasps your hand in his, giving it a rapid shaking.

His grip on your hand hurts a bit and the smug smirk on his face makes you somewhat intimidated by him. Vox just…gives you the creeps even more than Valentino did and he basically verbally assaulted you. Before you can even come up with a response to him-

“Yes, yes, yes. Everyone knoWS WHO YOU ARE, YOU PRICK. NOW WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” And now Velvette looks kind of scary, like so pissed off and annoyed that she looks like she could actually kill someone right now. The someone preferably being Vox. Her bright red eyes glow with rage and irritation, her pretty lips now turned into a deep scowl.

As she yells in his face, his expression drops to one of annoyance and exhaustion. “Where’s Val?” Velvette groans before responding. “You’ve got to be fuckin kidding me! He just left, looking for you. Look on your stupid little cameras and find him and go tell him to STOP SLAMMING MY DOORS OR IM GONNA-“

Not that Velvette scared you but…she looked pretty upset right now and her yelling is enough to put anyone into a slight panic. So you slip you hand around her bicep, gently pulling her tense arm back a bit so you could comfortably slide your hand down to hers, interlocking your fingers. Her words stopped in their tracks, your tender touch almost making her flinch. Her head whipped around and she looked at you for a good few seconds, a smile slowly growing on her lips. She turns back to the screen-faced man, her smile not faltering this time.

“Off you go.” Velvette quite literally shoos him away with a wave of her hand as her other hand snakes its way around your waist and back until her arm is fully wrapped around you and you’re pressed into her side. She turns her back on Vox, determined to keep her full attention on you for the rest of the day. You’re too distracted by her embrace to notice if Vox had even left or not.

You clear your throat. “Babe…?” “Yes, love?” “Don’t get mad.” You look at her with a serious expression, causing her to blink in confusion. “Mad at you? Never. What’s on your mind?” Velvette pulled away from you for just a second then she faced you and held both your hands in her own.

“I feel…extremely uncomfortable here. Specifically, with Valentino and Vox. I-I…I’m sorry I just…I don’t like them…very much…they scare me.” Velvette chuckles before you can finish your sentence and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or even more worried. Suddenly, she pulls you into a tight hug, her hands rubbing big circles all over your back.

“Ugh, I’m so terribly sorry, darling. Truly, I figured those two would be busy on a Saturday, too busy to be bothering us already.” She turns her head to kiss your cheek then pulls you in even closer. “Fuck! I’m actually so relieved you said that. Those two are so terrible…truly, irresponsible! I mean it when I say I’m the backbone of the Vs okay? Those two pussies would fall apart in a matter of hours without me! Ugh they can’t even keep it together for one day!” “Babe…” You try to calm her again, seeing how worked up she gets having to constantly deal with her work partners.

With her attention solely on you, she softly says, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What do you want to do next, hm? We can go somewhere. Anywhere. Just say the words.” Her long fingers gently graze the skin of your cheek, causing you to become a bit flustered. It’s almost baffling how she can be so cold and cruel to everyone around her except you. You were her only weakness, and she doesn’t mind one bit. She loves you endlessly. She wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in Hell.

[wayfayrr]

Surprise!!

I'm back from my break, taking some time just to clear my thought's feels like it's worked wonders <33

To set things back off with a bang I've got the grand prize winner for @glowyskull in my 200 followers raffle!! It's self aware twi deciding to take certain matters into his own hands after his darling reader was gone for so long - since he's fresh out of twilight princess in this one he's going as link rather than twilight as well I hope you enjoy!! <3

[masterlist]

Of all the days to get sick it had to be today, of course it is. I’m somewhat grateful for the extra day off though even if I would’ve preferred not being sent home early, it’ll give me some time to sort out some things I’ve been pushing aside for a while. Maybe I could start by finally sorting out some boxes of old things I’ve been putting off for ages. Well, now that box is a lot emptier than it was when I started and I’ve finally found my old Wii - I wonder does it still have my old Twilight Princess save? Maybe I could see, there’s not much else to do now I’ve finished sorting everything out. Just gotta get all the wires plugged in correctly and then … There! It’s certainly working which is a good sign, now all there is to do is to open it up and check up on something I thought I had lost long ago. 

This isn’t how it should open - I know what the opening is supposed to be.

There should be something here, not just this, not just this dark empty noise. Maybe the data got corrupted or something, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“..Dar-li-in’?”

“...”

“Darlin’ is that - you - you’ve finally come back darlin’? I - I ain’t alone anymore?”

…What is that - that can’t just be file corruption, that was someone speaking to me… It wasn’t the clearest, it sounded like it had been put through rounds of compression but that was definitely a voice… 

“You are there aren’t you darlin’? Please - I don’t- I can’t go - I can’t”

“I can’t go back to how I’ve been stuck I can’t - I can’t do it anymore… I know I’m supposed to be the courageous hero but I -”

“- I can’t do this anymore… I ca-n’t do - this… not - no-t any-m…”

He cut himself off with his own sobbing… I’ve never heard anyone sound half as broken as this, it’d be the rawest I’ve ever heard anyone cry if it wasn’t for all of the distortion… What has he been through? Now that the static has lessened - It’s links model, but more humanlike? It’s like there’s a person on the other side of the screen and not just a character.

But that means He’s the one crying…The way he’s standing is just as heartbreaking as his sobs are, his hands pressed up against the glass, his head hanging low and endless tears falling down his face. How do I go about - I know where I can start… 

“...Link? Can you hear me - I - I’m not sure if I’m the darlin’ you’re talking about, but right now, You aren’t alone link.”

“[Name] - you ? Oh darlin’ you - You’re really here - ‘m not imagining this? You - you’re finally back?”

“Yeah, I’m here link.”

His crying sounds happier now, but it still doesn’t sound anywhere close to stopping - I don’t expect him to stop crying for a long while though. It has to have been what - at least a decade since I last played? - has he been trapped in there aware the whole time? 

“You aren’t - you aren’t going to leave me again, are you? Please darlin’ - I can’t go back - it’s so - I can’t. Please. Darlin’ you can’t leave me again - I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice sounds even worse now, it’s heartbreaking and I think he knows how inhuman he sounds if his wince is anything to go off of, how he sounds is hurting him too.

“I thought I’d tried every way to get out… but I - I never got the chance to do it when the game was on… You won’t be able to leave me if this works… will you darlin'?”

Here I thought his crying sounded scary, the way it’s fading into laughter is downright haunting. It sounds so wet as if he’s choking on his tears as he laughs. 

“I’m finally going to get out- I’m not - I’m not going to be stuck anymore.  Darlin’ I”

For the first time since this all started he’s looking up at me, lifting his head like it’s one of the heaviest things to exist just to make eye contact with me. He looks… he looks like he’s ready to kill someone.

“W-what are you - what are you planning to do link?”

“... I don’t know… All I do know is that this glass keeping us apart? It’s so thin… I think tha-”

The way he silenced himself suddenly isn’t so shocking, not when a smile is cracking its way across his face mirroring the glass underneath his fingers. His breath and mine hitched before his laughing picked back up with even more distortion. 

“To - to think darlin’ - all I  - it just - it just needed to be on - I… I…”

Blood coated my shelf now due to how desperately his hand is reaching for something to hold onto after the glass tore into his skin. This is all just a fever dream though so…

Without much more thinking I reached out to take his hand, wincing slightly as the glass caught in his skin dug into mine. Immediately his grip tightened with a choked sob coming from him, like he didn’t expect me to help him. It doesn’t take long after that for him to shatter the screen in his desperation, falling out onto me knocking us both to the floor. Shards of my tv embedding themselves into any bare skin of his, blood - his blood - streaking out from each and every wound now marring his face as proof that this is real.

The same blood that’s starting to stain my shirt.

“I’m here darlin’ - ‘m finally out.”

“Yeah, you are Link, you’re out of there now.”

Everything feels so fuzzy, maybe my fever really is messing with me more than I thought. Real or not though, I should deal with the cuts on his face, he isn’t from here… Who knows how deadly even the most basic infection could be to him?

“...Link, if I may you’ve um… you’ve gotten a lot of cuts from …that and I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them as they are. Would you mind if I...?”

“You would - darlin’ you’d do that just for me?”

“I’d do it for anyone who needed it… and you really need it. I don’t want to think what could happen if I don’t. I’ll just need to get up to grab some supplies okay?”

As I shifted to get up he let out a low groan and buried his head more into my torso, clearly very against the idea of me moving in any way. Even trying to gently pry him off of me isn’t helping at all, he’s not letting go anytime soon; his grip only seems to be getting tighter with every movement I make. 

“Link, please… I don’t know how your body could react to an infection and we don’t have healing potions or fairies here. I’ll be back in just a second I swear.”

“Darlin’. You aren’t leavin' me again, I’ve already spent far too long without you when you abandoned me for so, so long.”

Why does he sound and feel so real this can’t be… this has to be a hallucination. Come on [name], just deal with this as it comes. 

“I don’t need to leave you then, you can stay with me while I get what I need. Does that work for you?”

A gentle nod followed by loosening his hold on me was a good sign that he is okay with this, despite how frail and overwhelmed his face makes him out to be. Getting up still isn’t the easiest thing to do with how he refuses to let go of me despite if he did then it would far easier for the both of us to get up. Then the moment I do finally get up immediately his arms are wrapped around my waist as he pulls himself up with me, almost as if he’s struggling to stand on his own; not that I’ll question that now, there are other issues to be dealing with.

Shuffling over to where I keep my first aid kit, link could clearly tell it wasn’t the best idea to keep ahold of me while I get it, instead leaning on the wall keeping himself upright as his eyes never left me the entire time his hands weren't on me. Like he’s scared I’m going to up and vanish or something. Because I did. I did and I left him in that place. I left him to rot.

“Okay I’ve got it link, let’s go sit down and I can treat your wounds.”

“M’kay darlin’.”

Leading him back to the couch with his arms securely around my waist again was faster than before, letting me move him into the position that would be more comfortable for him while I do this. 

“Okay wolf boy, this isn’t going to be the best. After I’ve taken the shards out, I’ll have to disinfect the cuts. So this is gonna sting a little alright? Just try to keep still and it’ll be over faster.”

The silence was tattered with the occasional whine and whimper as I pull each and every shard littering his otherwise perfect face. It wasn’t long till I was preparing some rubbing alcohol on a cloth just to be certain there won’t be any more risks. Just got to do it before I start getting too drowsy from this fever. 

“There you go Link, not much longer now, you’re doing amazingly. I’ll warn you again though this is really going to sting.”

“Darlin’ nothing could sting worse than the feeling of you abandoning me all that time.”

Hissing and pulling away when the cloth came close to touching him seemed to disprove that faster than he meant for it too. Not that I didn’t expect him to try pulling away from it, just not pushing my hand away while pressing himself into my other side. With a soft sigh, I let him grab onto my free hand with both of his, the image of him clinging to my sleeve like a plush toy being one of the cutest things I would have ever seen if not for the blood streaming down his face. 

“Come on, you were doing so well. I promise it’ll only take a moment more then it’ll be done with…”

That seemed to do the trick, despite the clear pout and his tightening grip whenever it seemed to hurt a little too much, he’s let me clean the blood off of his face and clean the wounds. Now just to bandage him up and -

“All done link, see it was worth it right? Now you don’t have to worry about all those cuts; I can go and lie down for a bit now too.”

“Lie down but - but I just got here… can’t we spend more time together?”

“I do want to link, I can promise you that. I’m just not feeling well, I haven’t been well for this whole time really; this fever is taking more of a toll on me than I thought it would.”

“Fever? Oh, darlin’ you, you should be resting not dealin' with me [name]. I - I didn’t even realise, I just. I was so excited to be here with you that I didn’t even notice you were in pain. How could I even call myself your lover?”

What did he just-?

No don't worry about that at the moment [name].

Laying my head on his chest after gently shoving him onto the couch is such a comforting feeling; if he’s just my fever trying to convince me to rest, well I wouldn’t mind getting sick more often. 

“‘s alright link, don’t worry about ‘t. I’m just, gonna sleep for a little bit. Then if you aren't just a hallucination we can spend more time together later.”

Hands carded through my hair only seem to push me further into sleep now, there’s no point resisting and forcing myself to stay awake now anyway.

“I know we will darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t ever letting you leave me ever again.”

[mazosstuff]

Heartsteel boys × classical singer!reader

Pairings: Aphelios, Ezreal, Sett, Kayn, Yone, K'sante (separately) × gn reader

Cw: maybe reader being a little insecure?

Words: 1.1 k

Aphelios

• You sometimes forget he's in the house, so, thinking you're alone, you start singing a little.

• You were no master at it so it was a little hard for you to say if you were singing with your throat or not, and that was one of his reasons why you never sang infront of him, but following some advices from your vocal coach helped alot.

• You were cooking something when you remembered the part of an opera you did when you didn't know Phel.

• Not noticing him, you started singing the solo and, my my, our boy was shocked.

• He realised you didn't know he was there, but he just stared at you awestruck.

• You never raised your voice in front of him, but to hear it so loudly, he was certainly amazed by it. (Doesn't mean that you were screaming, but it is pretty loud when someone sings right next to you, been there, done that myself)

• It was powerful, and even if he didn't understand a word of what you said, he still thought it was beautiful.

After ending your solo, you turned around and saw him, completely frozen in the spot.

Your cheeks went red

"Phel!" You exclaimed. "I didn't know you were home."

He grabbed his phone and wrote on the notes: do it again

"You... wanna hear me sing?" He nodded his head.

"And to think people say I'm too loud when I sing like this... don't you mind?" He shook his head to indicate a no.

Ezreal

• He kinda knew you sang a little, but he never knew what kind of genre you would be into.

• When you heard their song for the first time, you liked it a lot, so he thought your favourite genre of music must be electronic or pop.

• Truth to be told, you were really versatile with your taste in music.

• You two have a shared playlist where you once put an aria by accident, and you didn't notice until he told you.

"Babe, do you listen to classical music?" You stared at him. How did he know?

"Yeah... I usually sing it too..."

"Shut up, let me hear you! I wanna hear you sing the one you put in our playlist."

Panic. Total fucking panic. What if he didn't like it? What if you messed up the high note? What if...?

"Okay" you finally gave in.

"Let me just prepare a little... I don't wanna hurt my vocal cords."

After preparation, you started. Your heart pounded like crazy.

All went smoothly. You were so scared of having a voice crack but it never happened.

He got his yellow glasses and put them on his face just to push them down (like the scene in the MV).

"Why didn't you tell me I have a soulmate who sings better than me?"

"What...?"

"You can do high notes and everything! I need to tell this to everyone! My soulmate is already special by themselves, but this? You're amazing!"

Sett

• I feel like his mother would turn up the volume of the radio whenever classical music was put.

• He usually rolled his eyes when he was younger, but with age he started to understand the work and the vocal training people put to reach those levels. He respected it.

• Once you were going somewhere so he turned on the radio to put some music and the station the radio was on was the one of classical music.

• Before he could change the station you started singing.

• He secretly started to record you.

• He was impressed to say the least.

You looked over to him. "Delete that. Now."

"Oh come on, babe. You have millions of videos of me singing. Why can't I have one of you?"

"Touché..."

"Do you think I can sing whatever you sang now?"

"Do you wanna end up like Phel?"

"Omg, no"

"Then don't"

Kayn

• Bro rolls his eyes whenever he hears the words classical and music put together.

• He will pretend to throw up whenever you make him listen to a song that's not rock, pop, metal, or anything that doesn't have fast rhythm.

• One time it happened that you found a recording of you singing.

• He wanted to listen to make fun of your taste in music, but he was...

• He couldn't understand.

• Something he thought was lame just became... angelic.

"So... what do you think...?"

"It's okay, I guess"

"Wait... you are telling me that you liked it? Kayn, sweety, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. And what's with the sweety now? Don't say that again"

So, under that façade of the bad boy, there is a golden heart after all.

Yone

• He listens to the classic music playlists on spotify. You can't tell me otherwise.

• Would be delighted to know that you two shared this little interest.

• Would let you sing him to sleep if he allowed himself to rest.

• Once, because you had a minor argument, you slept in separate rooms.

• He couldn't sleep so tried with the music he had saved of spotify but nothing worked.

He knocked at your door.

"What?" You asked him, still pretty pissed off, but probably because of the tiredness and the sadness.

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither"

"Can... can you sing me that one melody you sing me everytime?"

"Can't you just listen it on your own?"

"Why deprive myself of the better version when I have it right in front of me?" The reality was that he needed your voice and not some of a stranger.

If your body wasn't a solid, it would have melted right there.

"Fine..."

(But no seriously, how can you not love this man)

K'Sante

• He would start humming with you some famous pieces.

• I don't know why but I have the feeling that he also has heard somethings so he has a basic knowledge of classical music.

• He asked why didn't you join a choir yet. With your talent, you should.

• He once tried sneaking up on you while you were reading a music sheet.

• With how scared you were you hit a high note that wasn't even in your range, or at least you thought it wasn't.

• The man was too stunned to speak.

"Did you just...?"

"I didn't even know that was in my range..."

"What were you reading anyway? Did you join a choir?" He gasped in excitement.

"Yeah... I followed your advice. It's actually more welcoming than I thought it would be"

"I'm so happy you're comfortable there!" He picked you up and hugged you.

A/n: Hi there! Paranoia has been stuck in my mind for quite some time, so I thought I might write something for the boys from the perspective of someone who grew up in a family of musicians and professional classical singers.

Riot... you gotta tell me why do you create them, make them drop a banger, and make them disappear into thin air.

I am waiting for a comeback of both K/DA and True Damage.

I hope you liked this! As always, requests are open. Check my pinned post!

[dizscreams]

AHH ETHAN SEEING YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT ‼️😧😘😋🤍

OOOO ANON I LOVE THIS IDEA!!

“CAN I GET A KISS? AND CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?”

— Ethan Landry ★

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

A/N: TRYING TO WRITE AS MUCH AS I CAN EVEN THOUGH IM ON VACATION LOL

TAGS: @ourloveisgod23 @xyzstar @wenvierismycomfort @beary-rambles @aesthetixhoe @gabbylovesreading @wekiamo @aqellano @mbankfav @teyamsgirll @c8rdigan @astermath @brakke-dino

You were on the couch watching tv while you waited for your boyfriend to come over. He said he had to finish studying and he’d be on his way. Which was over 30 minutes ago, but you’re sure there was a good excuse for it! He was a busy guy so you usually had to be patient and wait for him.

You were mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you laid on the couch. You missed him a lot, lately there hadn’t been a lot of time to just relax and enjoy each others company. You lived with Sam, Tara, and Quinn and Ethan lived with Chad. So between school work and roommates you could never really be alone.

Quinn always barged in which was weird in certain situations or Tara and Sam would be arguing and Chad was Chad and always wanted to third wheel to embarrass Ethan.

You were about to text Ethan again before you heard a knock at the door. You threw the blanket off of you and ran towards the door and unlocking it quickly. “Hi, sorry I’m late,” your boyfriend said standing there with a shy smile on his face holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Eth, you didn’t have to do that,” you smiled brightly at him as you gently took it from his hands.

“No, but I wanted to. I felt bad for holding you up.”

“Thank you,” you said softly before giving him a quick peck on the lips, “You can sit down on the couch, I’m just gonna put these up.” He nodded and you quickly walked away from him and towards the kitchen causing Ethan to get a good look at your shirt. The design looked really familiar to him.

You found a glass big enough for the flowers and delicately took them out of the packaging. You grabbed all of them at once since it wasn’t a large bouquet and put them in, “There!” You tried walking away but were stopped when you felt two big arms wrapping around your waist followed by Ethan’s chin on your shoulder. “You’re wearing my shirt, aren’t you?”

You smiled and turned around so that you were now facing him, his arms still around your waist. “Maybe I am, what’s it to you?” He chuckled, “Nothing, I’m just kinda surprised is all?” “Surprised?” You asked confused and Ethan’s cheeks turned red, “I don’t know, it just looks good on you,” he said quietly. You kissed his cheek, “You’re so cute,” you giggled as you began to kiss his other cheek, then his head, then his nose, and then finally his lips.

You sighed as you both relaxed into the kiss, as this had been something you both were craving all day. You slowly put your arms around his neck and gently tugged him closer to you. The kiss was slow and passionate but Ethan eventually pulled away from you, smiling.

“I really do like seeing you in my shirt,” he said softly. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, I couldn’t find anything comfy to wear.” He rolled his eyes and you kissed his lips again. It was longer than a peck but shorter than what you guys did before. “So what movie do you wanna watch?” he asked. “You can pick-” but you didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he picked you up and walked towards the couch.

“Ethan! Put me down, what are you doing?”

He sat you down and flopped down next to you. “I was thinking a horror movie,” he told you. You hummed, “Of course you were.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing!” You laughed.

“I think you’re just jealous you can’t handle horror movies.”

He looked away to focus back on picking a movie and you rolled your eyes playfully. You noticed he had the same dumb smile on his face as you probably did which only made you smile more as you got comfortable on the couch and held onto his arm. You put your head on his shoulder as you watched him scroll through movies.

He finally found one and out the remote onto the coffee table before leaning back and wrapping his arm around you. “It really does look good on you,” he said toying with the hem of the shirt. “I’m beginning to think you’re only saying that because it’s your shirt,” you said looking up at him. He smiled a bit, “Maybe. “Im not getting it back am I?”

“Not a chance”

You both giggled and you put your head back on his shoulder and muttered a quiet “I love you.” The movie had just started and you were already growing a little tired but you couldn’t help it, he gave you so much comfort.

“I love you too.”