#everything is better in Moroccan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

0alanasworld0 · 9 months

Text

Partings & Reunions (Abde Ezzalzouli x reader)

Description: Abde's move to Osasuna is a horrifying prospect for both of you and you worry that it'll be the thing to tear you apart

Warnings: allusions to sex (not detailed)

You’re not startled when you hear the door slam for the umpteenth time of the month. You couldn’t help but feel bad for your boyfriend. You were both so excited and hopeful when moving to Barcelona together: he was about to play for the club of his dreams and you were going to study at your dream university.

It all seemed like it was falling into place, you had been together for years and friends long before that so the fact that you weren’t going to have to be apart was a comforting one. Even money-wise, it was perfect. You could easily afford a nice place when you put your heads together.

And indeed it was all just that. The arrangement went by without a hitch. Sure, he had some habits that you made sure he ironed out before things got out of control but things were smooth. You were both pretty busy but always made the most of the time you did have together with movie nights, evenings exploring the city, you could have all the fun you wanted together without facing the interruptions you used to deal with back home. You loved each other with everything; you had done since before you could even process such emotion.

All of that only made your current situation that much more painful. The step-up to the A team was a big one that he initially felt ready for. His season with the B team had been phenomenal so the step-up felt so right. He was excited beyond words and you couldn’t have been any prouder of him when he told you about the promotion. Neither of you could wait until the start of that fateful season rolled around. Yet it was so different to what he initially expected.

Match by match he felt his hope and excitement dwindle and turn into something different entirely. Resentment? That didn’t seem like a strong enough word for what he was feeling. He didn’t realise it at the time but the term ‘promotion’ was a sanitised way of being thrown to the wolves. He was… fine but the stakes proved far too high for a 20 year old who had only just moved up. He felt underprepared and unseen. Sometimes the pair of you wondered if the club was letting the twitter experts make decisions for the club as he fell further and further down the pecking order. It was like they didn’t even want to try.

It tore your heart into pieces to see him grow so disillusioned with the dreams he fought so hard to achieve. He had overcome so much adversity from his less than privileged background to the simple fact that he was a Moroccan living in Spain. That last part, you also suspected, played a role in this.

He had lived in Spain long enough. So when the time came for him to make a choice, it seemed so obvious to pick the team that had won the world cup not too long ago and had spent the years after in the very top of the FIFA rankings. It seemed like an offer he couldn’t refuse but his heart was elsewhere. He didn’t remember much of Beni-Mellal but it was home. Sure, he didn’t live there anymore but he visited often enough. And there was always a part of that place that he missed when he returned to Spain. The warm yet refreshing air, the sound of the Adhan loud and clear when the prayer times rolled around, the people who always seemed to be ready to talk and gossip, the colours. It was home and choosing Spain felt like a betrayal to not only the place he called home but to himself.

The media had spent the first few months of the season spreading the rumours about his allegiance to Spain. His silence led their imaginations to run wild. They’d conjured quotes out of nowhere but his media-training stopped him from addressing any of it: he knew better than to take those news sites head-on.

His silence also meant that when the official news of his choice did come out, from him, it was guns blazing and Abde was in the firing line. Even some of his teammates and coaches were surprised by it. Spain’s upcoming golden boy had seriously chosen Morocco. The joy he had seen online from Moroccans was enough for him to not care about the Spanish media but he did suspect that he had fallen even further out of favour with his dream team as a result.

It all made him angry. Every match gone wrong, every minute on the bench, every dig he received from his coaches, every time he saw the under-performing Spaniards receive the support that he could have only dreamed of, it made him angry. Over the past few months a painful routine had emerged: the sound of the door slamming, the sight of him seething followed by the feeling of his body dropping unceremoniously into your lap. He was falling apart.

You would spend some time in silence and your hands softly carding through his messy hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. It would almost soothe him to sleep but before you reached that point, you would slowly coax him to the kitchen where you could eat. Even that task was becoming even more of a struggle with his appetite dying into nothing.

At first he would hold back his tears until he was sure you were asleep, quietly make his way downstairs and let it out alone. He wanted nothing more than to fall into your arms and surround himself with your comfort but he already felt like such a burden. So he kept it to himself.

Although he couldn’t keep that up for long at all because about a week into that routine, you had caught him in the kitchen with his head in his hands, sobbing and that was that. You wrapped him up in a tight hug from behind, pressing soft kisses into his back until he calmed down a little.

Once you got back to bed, you pulled him into your chest and the tears only started again. Yours were about to start too but you had to stay strong for him. He had done the exact same thing for you many times while you stressed about your exams. You had cried and vented to him more times than you could even remember, the idea of your academic career falling through your fingertips was one that came quite often yet was always more distressing every time you thought about it. He was the one to talk you down from your hysteria, to stroke your hair, to remind you just how highly he thought of you. This was now your time to return the favour, you supposed. Reminding him that his problems were yours, that you could never think any less of him, your starboy.

That was the new routine and it persisted but it felt different this time. The air was heavier. You felt uneasy for whatever reason. The look on his face was the same as it had been so you brushed off the instinct for a moment.

Although your concern returns when he forgoes the routine of laying in your lap and instead heads straight for the fridge without a glance in your direction. you don’t want to be annoying but you couldn’t help but be worried so you’re hot on his heels as he grabs an energy drink.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep” he pops the ‘p’ sound, still not bothering to look your way. You can imagine how annoyed he would be getting right about now, you had been in his shoes before but he had taught you plenty on how to deal with these things/

“C’mon, talk to me…”

“It’s nothing.” you weren’t having it, the little huff at the end of his sentence was enough indication of that so you’re firmer with your next word.

“Abdessamad”

“They’reshippingmeoff.” he mumbles, almost as he didn’t want anyone to hear, not even himself but again, you weren’t having any of it. He was gonna tell you what was wrong and you were gonna help him.

“What?”

“They’re shipping me off.” you hear it this time but you don’t quite believe it. They couldn’t? Could they?

“They can’t do that!”

“They ‘strongly recommend’ that I accept the loan to Osasuna. My career is in tatters before it’s even begun.” he shakes his head, he finally turns to face you and you can see the tears begin to form in his eyes.

“How would we even…” you trail off, completely dumbfounded by the news. Everything you had built here, together, was up in the air now. Your perfect little miracle world was on the brink of splitting into two. Literally. You didn’t realise how that one little word must have sounded to him in your shock.

“How would we what?! I’m about to lose the only thing that I'm actually good at and you’re worried about long-distancing?!” he scoffs, he’s not thinking straight. Normally he managed to calm himself and share news with you without raising his voice, normally he wouldn’t overanalyse a single word but the news dumped on him today had set him off.

“No of course not! I just-”

“Just what?!” he challenges. The raised voice startles you and now it's his turn to see the tears well up in your eyes. He comes back to reality almost immediately, shaking off his uncharacteristic rage but you’re already walking away. He fucked up. ROYALLY.

“I’ll give you a few minutes.” you mutter, speeding off to your shared bedroom and closing the door behind you before he can say anything. He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, scolding himself for blowing up at you like that. You must have been just as shocked by the news as he was, probably lost for words and you most certainly didn’t mean to come across in the way he had interpreted. And to add to that, you had every right to worry about the impact on your relationship, a move like this one was going to affect both of you. He felt like the biggest asshole, he probably was one.

He decides to listen to your suggestion, giving you both a few minutes to cool off, banging his head against the fridge door as he figured out how he was going to apologise. That kind of outburst was new and he wasn’t going to let it become a habit. He was taught better than that.

Meanwhile, behind the bedroom door, you’re having your own little meltdown. You didn’t mean to come across that way at all. Of course you worried for the state of the career he worked so hard to earn, but at the same time, you were soulmates. The idea of being apart for so long and even worse, the idea of splitting up was unbearable. You just couldn’t help but worry for the state of your relationship. As you lay on your bed, wracking over your brain for what you were going to say, you’re interrupted with the door opening.

Abde can feel his heart breaking at the sight of you. The tears running down your cheeks, the stress and fear in your eyes. He hated that he was the source of it.

He couldn’t stand to see you in such and he’s quick to take his spot and lay next to you, turning to his side to face you.

“I’m-”

“A complete ass.” you finish his sentence quickly. He couldn’t help but laugh a little and you’re fighting off a smile as well. He gets back to being serious so he can get a proper apology out.

“You were only trying to see things from a bigger perspective. I shouldn’t have made you out to be the villain when you were only trying to help.” you finally glance at him, teary eyes a little softer and he’s relieved.

He’s even more relieved when you shift position and pull him into your arms, head comfortably under your chin and nose against your neck where he can smell your vanilla perfume, his favourite. You weren’t a fan yourself, you often said you smelled like a bakery, but it was comforting to him for whatever reason. so, especially in his recent state, you made more of an effort to wear it for him. Your effort doesn’t go unrecognised as he tries to get even closer to you, his face pressed further into your soft skin and he can finally breathe out again. And he can’t help but allow his eyes to flutter to a close when your nails scratch lightly at his scalp.

“Look, if you do have to make this move-”

“Not ‘if’ , sweets, ‘when’ …” he mumbles tiredly, sounding defeated as ever. It was probably best if you didn’t flirt around the reality of the situation. It was killing both of you but the sooner you both accepted it, the sooner you could make the most of the upcoming summer and the sooner you could figure out how you were gonna navigate things. Delusion wasn’t going to do you any good. And most importantly, it was clearly distressing him so you correct yourself.

“When you make this move, we’ll figure something out, okay? I’ll… visit every holiday, we’ll facetime everyday, anything but we have to try." The idea of him being so far away was a horrible one, to be frank. And the idea of not waking up next to him, losing the scent of his body wash and aftershave from the sheets and pillows, getting some sort of gadget to open jars instead of asking him, getting a stool so you could reach the stuff on the higher cupboards rather than letting him use his long arms; it was more than you could bear at that point. You don’t register the tears falling from your eyes until you feel his soft hand gently wipe them away.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, anjo. This is gonna be hard for both of us but we’re soulmates, we got this.” he tries to sound sure, like you had been doing for him over the past few months but it was so hard. The idea of breaking up made him sick to his stomach. You two had seen each other through everything. He didn’t have a connection with anyone else like he did with you, He knew that no one else would compete. You were the apple of his eye, the pinnacle.

Your arms tighten around him and his own arms follow suit, not another word is spoken that night. Eventually, you do fall into a slumber. It's not particularly peaceful and you couldn’t get close enough to your boyfriend as all the possibilities for the future played out in your mind.

The next few months are spent trying to make the absolute most of the time you had left together. That paired with packing up his stuff made it bittersweet. You loved seeing so much of him, waking up next to him, eating all of your meals with him, falling asleep with him but the reminder of what was to come still lingered in the far back of your mind. Nothing that you kept in because you both still spent a fair few nights crying together.

You went all out, travelling to all sorts of places and doing all kinds of activities that you had both planned. He was the designated photographer of it all, taking thousands of shots of you both on both of your phones as well as the polaroid camera he had bought for the occasion. There was no way he was leaving without storing up enough memories for the lonely nights. He had even taken to vlogging, silly little tiktok challenges that you both would ultimately fail miserably at and burst out into fits of laughter that would leave you breathless and with abs almost as defined as his own.

Your nights were so much more intimate. No rushing, no laziness, you took your time to appreciate each other. Every dip, scar, mark, freckle was to be loved on and admired. Amidst the deep love, you could feel each other's pain. It was still almost unbelievable that the two of you were going to have to spend a year apart at least. Nothing was left unsaid, the distress, fear and hurt being poured out in every movement. There was no wonder so many of those sessions left you both in tears at the end.

You never got sick of him, how on earth were you going to manage without him. You had never needed the space before, you never wanted it yet over 400 miles… it was going to be a massive adjustment for both of you, that was for sure.

It was perhaps to be expected that on the day of his departure, neither of you could control your tears. Letting go of that final hug hurt you beyond words. You had spent the past few months well so there were no regrets on either end but still… one whole year.

“You have your passport, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And your-”

“Documents right here, anjo.” he whispers, arm still around you, the other patting the pocket of his suitcase containing everything.

“Text me when you get on the plane.”

“I’ll be facetiming you the whole way, hmm?”

“And let me know when you get off.”

“Of course.”

“And when you get all your luggage… And when you get to your new apartment!”

“Anjo, I’ll text you every minute of the way. How does that sound?” he teases with his signature smirk and you slap his chest lightly.

“I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure I get back to Barca, I promise you.” you smile up at him and nod. You trusted him. You knew exactly what he was capable of and you were sure that he was going to find the success he wanted. And if that success was finding his way back home, you were going to sit tight and wait for that day.

You made sure to pack your perfume bottle in his suitcase and he left his aftershave (alongside a large chunk of his extensive sweater and hoodie collection) so both of you had a more intimate piece of home for when the loneliness got to you.

You’re trying so hard to hold back your sobbing when he finally has to let go and he walks over to his boarding area. He’s the exact same. It was just a year. You just had to wait and have a little faith and he would be back in your arms in no time.

Although you much preferred having him right at home, the year apart was far less excruciating than you first thought. You both keep to your word: facetiming and texting everyday, you visited whenever you could and sometimes he got a chance to come to Barcelona; sometimes to play against Espanyol and others to watch his new team play his old one. Those days were his favourite, although scarce as he wasn’t even allowed on the sub bench so he took to sitting with you in the stands. He loved being able to analyse the game with you by his side, it was like you had never been apart. He still made you laugh so hard you would cry and you still made each other's hearts beat faster when you took so much as a glance at each other.

But perhaps the best thing to come out of it, the thing that made it worth it, the thing that was giving you both faith in his return, was how well he was doing. You didn’t get to watch many of his matches in person but you still got the same rush of excitement and nerves running through your body when you watched him play, even from the TV. He had upped his game for sure and what warmed your heart the most was that he was enjoying himself. The smile on his face, even as he simply walked out onto the pitch to train, was so bright. You missed seeing it and his new club was clearly doing him a world of good. Not only was he improving at the speed of light but he looked happier, healthier. You were beginning to see the benefits of his time away from Barcelona, away from the fan surveillance and pressures, he wasn’t weighed down in the same way and had turned into a beast of a player in return.

You could feel the excitement and hope radiating off him in your facetime calls after every match, win or loss. He would take you on mini tours of the pitches and introduce you to his teammates.

Of course you both still had those nights where you felt lonely but there was hope. The months were passing by and the time had finally come in April in which talks were beginning about a possible return. He had kept his promise to you, he really had put his everything into improving and opening up the doors for a return to Barca. You couldn’t wait and you were now counting down the days until he would be back.

Perhaps the most rewarding thing you had seen was the crowd chanting his name during a facetime call. You weren’t quite sure how the team made it to the top of the belltower or how so many fans had managed to surround it but the atmosphere was somehow more electric than the pitch itself. He deserved every bit of the recognition he was receiving and moreover, he had found a family with Osasuna. It undoubtedly made his stay that much more bearable. It wasn’t even in the bearable category anymore, it was enjoyable!

It's mid-May when he is finally given the greenlight for his return. Not that any of it was being reported to the media, who would continue to wallow in speculation. You almost broke the sound-barrier celebrating when he gave you the glad tidings. Not that you ever had a doubt but you were so relieved that it was all coming back together again. Seeing your starboy light up the pitch again, seeing him find his smile again and now the certainty of his return… you could burst from happiness.

The next hurdle he had to overcome was his AFCON. The decision to move him to the u23s confused both of you but his mind was so much more at rest after his time with Osasuna so he didn’t find himself losing sleep over it.

He found himself quite excited in fact, his first chance at captaincy and another chance at ending his season with a trophy. And he was ready to go for it. As if his loan wasn’t successful enough, Abde fit into the leadership role much more smoothly than he had expected. He was met with respect from his teammates and a level of trust that he wouldn’t dare break. He took it seriously, embarrassing his opposition and making his assists and goals look easy. He was truly on fire, match after match of carrying the games and embarrassing opposing defenders, he was loving every second of it. He especially loved the attention you paid to the armband; even across the phone you seemed spell-bound by the blue band around his bicep. Your captain. He loved being able to tease you for the little fixation, making sure to keep it in the frame of the camera and not-so-subtly flexing his left bicep so you would focus on it.

Almost as fast as the tournament began, it was over and he was up on the podium, picking up his golden boot and then the trophy itself. When the celebrations had finally died down and everyone settled onto the ground, he called and you’re quick to answer, once again almost breaking the sound barrier as you celebrate his trophy. You wished desperately to be there with him but your schedule just didn’t align. Nonetheless, you were still going to enjoy the moment because finally, FINALLY, your boy was getting everything he deserved. It wouldn’t be too long until you had him in your arms either. Although you would have to wait another week as his family were planning on staying for a while, at least that was what he originally planned.

“Dude, you won’t stop talking to or about the girl and you haven’t stopped since September. We can do this stuff another time, just get back to Barcelona and end my torture.” Mohammad teases and it has Abde excited again. He had an idea.

You take the setting sun as a sign to start getting on with your skincare before going to sleep but as you’re walking over, you hear the doorbell ring. You were due a package a couple hours earlier but you assumed that there was a delay but perhaps not. You open the door, ready to grab your long-awaited parcel and ready to sign the little device, not really bothering to look up but instead you’re met with a pair of familiar sneakers. There was no way.

You attempt to solve what could have only been a hallucination by looking up. But, no. You weren’t hallucinating at all. Those beautiful green eyes looking into yours again.

“Surprise!” he waves awkwardly and you still haven’t found words. So you do the next best thing and throw yourself at him for a hug that knocks the breath out of him. Your arms constrict around his shoulders and you hide your face in his neck as he slowly walks you back into the house. He’s immediately comforted by the scent of vanilla and he sighs out in relief. He was home.

He feels his shirt getting wet before he feels you sobbing. He knows exactly how you feel so he just places a hand on your head, keeping you close and reminding you that he was right there, in the flesh, and he had no intention of leaving for that long ever again.

Eventually, you manage to look back at him, eyes slightly puffy from crying but your joy was evident.

“It's not like you to be early!” you point out and he gasps, stomping over to the couch with you still in his arms. He gently drops you onto it before falling on top of you himself and you both start laughing at the situation. It eventually dies down though and he lifts himself up so he can look at you. You lift up a hand to stroke over his features and he does the same for you.

“You’re really home.” there was a part of you that still couldn’t believe it. Sure you were counting down the days but still, the fact that he was here now was simply mind-blowing for you. Abde, your Abde was home.

“And I’m not going anywhere for a long time, you had better get used to it!”

“I’m sure I’ll manage…” you roll your eyes and he huffs, dropping his head back down so he was laying on your chest. Neither of you have the energy for anymore words so you just lay there on the couch, in complete silence, revelling in the reunion that had felt so far away not too long ago. Your boy was finally back home.

Yh this wasn’t a request or anything, i just let this idea marinate enough in my head so i had to share haha. I hope u guys enjoy <3

#abde ezzalzouli #ez abde #footballer fic #football fluff #football fanfics #football fanfic #footballer x you #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #morocco #morocco nt

72 notes · View notes

kpop-addict25 · 2 months

Text

Real Life MCSM AU character background information:

gender-neutral!Jesse

Their full name is Jesse Kaylin Prescott

They are born in Los Angeles, California on 15th August 1999

They grew up in a loving family

Their mom worked in a convenience store while their father worked as a car mechanic

Growing up they had a serious dyslexic disorder which got better within the years

They had a hard time finding friends and were constantly bullied in elementary school

They are very artistic and found comfort in drawing

Their parents divorced when they started high school

They graduated with honors at St. Bernard High School in the Arts department

Few years before graduating they moved to a smaller city within California with their mother where they met their best friends

As soon as they moved they signed up for the EnderCon building competition where they met the Ocelots for the first time

They held a big grudge against the Ocelots (mostly Aiden)

A year before the Witherstorm accident they met Reuben and took him under their wing

Growing up they wanted to work as a famous artist but their dream was ruined by the accident and were forced to become a hero

Olivia

Her full name is Olivia Aatkani

She is born in Marrakesh, Morocco on 13th May 1998

She grew up in a poor family until she moved to California at the age of 12

Her parents worked as farmers for small money which was barely enough for food

She has 2 sisters and 3 brothers and she is the youngest one

As soon as the family moved in California their lives started to get slightly better

Her father opened a restaurant for Moroccan culinary which became very successful

She studied at Newark Memorial High School and graduated with the highest grade in her whole class

A little before she graduated she found her best friends

She wanted to seek a higher education but her plans changed as soon as the Witherstorm accident occurred

She can fluently speak Arabic and she learned a little bit of French

Her biggest fear growing up was that she would never be successful enough

She constantly says that the happiness moment in her life was when she got accepted in High School

Since she was little, she always found interest in botanical life and dreamed of having a botanical garden of her own

Axel

His full name is Axel Marshal Lee

He is born in Honolulu, Hawaii on 5th October 1996

His parents owned a little family business which made enough money so he can have a rather normal life

His mother is American while his father has Russian roots

He has a big brother who lives and studies in Canada

As a baby he was a very picky eater but growing up he started loving everything

He spent the first years of his education homeschooled

He went to Kalani High School where he was the school troublemaker

He got expelled from there because of his attitude towards his classmates

His parents were furious and kicked him out of the house and he was forced to live with his uncle for a while in California

As soon as he went to California he became friends with Jesse and Olivia

Him and his parents are still mad at each other but he is still in contact with his brother

He admits that he wasn’t proud of his past and promised himself that he will do better with his future

He considered continuing his education but he wasn’t able to because of the Witherstorm

Petra

Her full name is Petra Hazel Cory

She is born in Dallas, Texas on 26th June 1997

Her mother worked as a school nurse while her father worked as a manager in a prestigious company

When she was little most of the other kids were scared of her because of her tough personality

In her teenage years, she looked like a cold person but deep inside she was longing for people’s attention and approval

She moved to live in California after a big argument with her parents

She attended the San Leandro High School and she graduated with an average grade

She used to be in a band where she was a drummer

She started working multiple jobs so she can afford an apartment to live in

Despite being in cahoots with her parents they supported her for a while until she was able to earn money by herself

She met Jesse and their friends at the store where she worked

A little after she graduated, she got a sword tattoo on her shoulder which symbolised her tough personality and her admiration towards Gabriel the Warrior

Even though he is nothing but a fraud, Petra thinks that Gabriel is a good role model and mentor

She still has a little purple spot on her arm after her Wither-sickness was cured

Lukas

His full name is Lukas Kang

His korean name is Kang Jae-seong

He is born in Daegu, South Korea on 22nd March 1995

His mother is German and his father is Korean

His father works as a surgeon while his mother is a stay-at-home mom

He has an older brother who is married and has a little child

He studied at Gyeongsin High School and graduated with the second highest grade in his whole class

He used to be the captain of the basketball team and he still plays in his free time

One summer when he was on a trip with his parents to California, he became friends with the Ocelots and started to participate with them in the building competition

Since his school was all the way in Korea, he went every summer to California so he can complete with his friends

As soon as he graduated, he moved to California to live with the rest of the Ocelots

He went to university for a little but he had to drop out because of the Witherstorm, saying that he is way “too stressed” to continue

He can fluently speak Korean, Japanese and a little bit of Chinese

In Korea he was quite popular for his natural blue eyes

He used to have black hair until he started bleaching it

He has piercings on his ears during the Witherstorm arc and he gets another one on his eyebrow after that

He has a star tattoo on the side of his neck, under his ear

If he could, he could have became a k-pop idol

He loves music and wanted to become a songwriter but of course he couldn’t because of the Witherstorm and his problems with the Ocelots

He has great vocal skills and according to Jesse he has “angel’s voice”. Also he can play guitar and piano earning the title of “musical prodigy” by the Order

#minecraft story mode #mcsm #mcsm headcanons #mcsm au #Real Life MCSM AU #mcsm jesse #mcsm olivia #mcsm axel #mcsm petra #mcsm lukas

23 notes · View notes

emgavi · 1 year

Text

Secrets Out (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Requested, I hope you enjoy it! <33

p.s be on the lookout for more fics soon today 👀

“y/n/n , have you seen my warm-up jacket? I can’t find it” Hakim said while rustling through his bags.

‘Oh you mean this one?” you said teasingly. Hakim turned around to see you wearing his jacket. Giving you a smile, he walked towards you, putting his arms around you.

“You know, it looks better on you” he said, looking at you adoringly. Smirking up at him, “yeah?”

Leaning closer to your lips, “yeah” he whispered until he finally pressed his lips onto yours. Giving you a sweet kiss before pulling away, “but i’m going to need that” he pulled lightly on his jacket that you were wearing.

Giggling at him, “well since you asked so nicely”, stepping a bit back to remove his jacket, you handed it back to him. ‘Thank you Mrs.Ziyech’ he said before giving you a quick kiss

“Your welcome Mr.Ziyech” smiling at him, you both start to get ready to leave the hotel and to the stadium. Today was the big game against Portugal in the World cup quarter finals. You were so proud of Hakim either way of the outcome of this tournament but you couldn’t help but feel him be nervous on the ride to the stadium to meet with the rest of his team.

His hand intertwined in yours the whole ride there. After being married for one year you both knew each other like the back of your palm. Softly caressing your fingers over his hand to help him feel more at ease. He noticed this and gave you a soft smile before kissing your forehead, leaning more on you

When you both finally reach the stadium and facility, that’s when you and Hakim have to part ways so he can meet with the rest of the players. Giving you a quick kiss before anyone can notice, Hakim walks through the players gate while you go to meet with the rest of the family in the family area. While you and Hakim are married, the rest of the world other than your families doesn’t know about it. They don’t even know that he’s in a relationship. Hakim made it so that he can keep you safe from the harsh world of the media.

Greeting his family, you sit next to his mom when you all make it into the stands, waiting for the game to begin. As pre-game warm ups start, you see your husband, Hakim, make his way on the field. Admiring him from afar, you can see he removed his normal wedding band that he had on this morning, to keep the press from asking not wanted questions. Instead, on the pitch, he wears a clear rubber band on his ring finger, to give him the comfort that he still has you with him at all times. From the press it’s hardly noticeable, you would have to grab his hand to notice it, making it perfect to wear in public outings.

“I’m happy you’re here, you stick by my son through everything, he loves you so much” his mom spoke, interrupting your admiration of Hakim. Turning to her, you give her a soft smile, “i love him just as much, and your- our family”. At this she in return gives you a warm smile turning back to look at her son, you do the same. “So when are you going to grow your little family?” she said casually, giving you a raised playful eyebrow.

Laughing at the question, “I think Hakim right now needs to focus on this tournament but afterwards…we’ll see” you nudged his mom’s shoulder lightly, knowingly how much she wants to have grandchildren.

When you see Hakim from far, you see he is looking at you two with a smile on his face. You give him a tiny wave, which he just smiles back acknowledging you secretly.

_________

During the game vs Portugal, clinging to your jersey that had your husband's name on the back, you felt on edge the whole time. While the team successfully gained a goal before halftime, there was still plenty of time for the opponent to score. You held your breath until you heard the final whistle blow. Seeing all the Moroccan players celebrate in the field, your vision goes straight to Hakim.

You see a big smile on his face and it only makes your smile grow bigger at this win for him. It was an incredible win for Morocco, you and his mom kept hugging in celebration of this victory to the semi-finals.

In the middle of the team’s celebration on the field, you see Hakim run over to you and his family in the stands. Going to hug his family first, so the media won’t suspect anything, then he finally went to hug you. “I’m so proud of you,love” you whispered in his ear. You feel his smile grow on your neck and feel his place a gentle secret kiss there.

In your little moment between you two, you both didn’t notice a couple of sneaky photographers who took pictures of the interaction. Already planning to publish once they got to their rooms.

By the time you and Hakim were at the dinner celebration with his team and whole family, you noticed your phone and his phone started to buzz. Taking his phone out, you see his eyes go wide, “oh no”

You look over his mom’s lap who was sitting between you since not even the players knew that you and him were married. Looking at the article you gasped seeing the headline.

“Hakim Zieyech’s secret wife seen in the stands at the Morocco v Portugal game???”

How did they find out? Where did they get that picture? What was your life going to be like now that everybody knows in the media? All these questions stir in your head until your thoughts are interrupted by Hakim’s hand grabbing your own, you barely notice now that he changed seats so that he is sitting next to you.

Looking up, you see him looking at you with eyes of concern, not knowing how you are feeling. You just nodded at him that you are okay and he proceeded to look at his teammates that were sitting in the tables around him, some of them now seeing the article and shocked.

You then see Hakim’s best friend, Noussair, walk towards your table with a blank face. You think he is about to be mad at Hakim for never telling his best friend about your secret marriage but instead his face turns into a big smile as he puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Hakim, i’m so happy for you brother, but next time some big news about you comes out, i would like to hear it from you.” he said jokingly to him. Hakim just smiled back relieved that his friend wasn’t mad, in fact none of his teammates were mad at the kept secret, they were just surprised they never guessed sooner.

“It’s a good thing too I found out because after this tournament I was going to try my shot with your “family-friend ``'' Noussair tells Hakim teasingly , making everyone laugh including you except Hakim himself. You giggle at Hakim’s now hardened face, already knowing his jealousy is taking over now.

Calming him down you kiss his cheek, your hand turning his face to look at you. “Babe, you will always be my love, no one else” you say to him. At this he puts his forehead on yours, sighing softly, feeling the jealous feelings fade away.

Laughing his friend tells him,“Yeah Hakim, it was just a joke, everybody give it up for the love birds, Mr and Mrs. Ziyech!” Noussair cheers, making everyone cheer for you and Hakim.

Feeling pure joy of finally not having to hide his love for you at least in front of his teammates, “I promise even now that everybody knows, I will forever protect you y/n/n. Kanbghik (i love you)”

“I know , I love you too” at this he leans to give you an official kiss, making everybody cheer again

#hakim ziyech #football fanfic #football imagine #football imagines #hakim ziyech x reader #hakim ziyech imagines

247 notes · View notes

kiss2012 · 11 days

Text

tsc thoughts under the cut cause i finished

i literally cannot wrap my thoughts around my overall opinion of it i feel like i absolutely need to reread it first

but also i need to reread tfc because I MISS TFC SO BAD ➡️ girl who reread it last may. i do think i spoke tsc into existence by doing this because i hadn’t looked at the trilogy since 2019 and then all of a sudden i decided to reread and found that unfortunately they still make me batshit crazy. what is in those books.

however i do like tfc better 🤷🏽‍♀️ so if i did reread tfc after this and read tsc again i would just want to read tfc again

this is not fair to say at all because tfc is a whole trilogy and this was only book 1. and i rlly need to start saying aftg instead of tfc cause it’s getting confusing because like i do think tsc is better than tfc (the first book). however i just…like aftg better? i feel like it’s more fun which is probably a weird thing to say considering it’s a lot More than tsc is. and obviously this book was more about jean’s recovery. but more happens in aftg. idk we’ll see tho

i do love jean and the trojans but i miss neil and the foxes every page. i feel like it’s harder to connect to the trojans because there r so many of them. and idk sports so the three coaches is probably normal for a team of this size i really wouldn’t know lol but i couldn’t keep the coaches straight in my head either

point is the foxes r my everything 4ever. i love jean jeremy cat and laila and i see what she was trying to do by introducing the floozy line (cute name) however i dont really have a strong feeling about them because we met them for like 5 minutes

i do love nabil tho why is he not part of the floozy line :(((((

i think cat and laila were absolutely perfect. they’re given a lot of depth especially cat and they’re so important to me. they’re better here than in fanon i think but i feel like fanon did get their personalities and relationship down mostly right. apart from cat not just being called alvarez LMAO bless neil only calling her that and fanon having no choice but to do the same because no one agreed on one single name. i remember sara was one that i saw a lot but i like catalina way way better i love cat <3 i love laila <3 their friendship with jeremy <3

an evening breeze rainbows open roads friends 😭😭😭😭😭😭

bi jean is so dear to me

also jean rooming with cat and laila (and then jean) literally perfect omg. no one ever put that in fics but i think it was the best thing to do. sorry for having to compare tsc to fanon im not trying to say one is better than the other at all but what you have to understand is how many fics about jean post tkm are out there and how many of them i read so my mind is going to go there. i wasn’t rlly obsessed with jerejean but i was (and am) a jerejean girl. and i had (have lmao) very high standards for fic so i stand by a lot of those fics WHILE still standing by everything tsc is

by which i mean i cannot get poc jean out of my head thanks to that one fic where he is moroccan. in that same fic jeremy was also spanish and i sort of adopted that into my image of them so i am trying to let go of it but i mean even the hatfords being pakistani still lives in my head despite how unlikely it is. and most of the time i pictured jeremy with golden hair (sometimes curls) so even though i think nora’s compromise being to have naturally brown-haired jeremy bleaching his hair is hilarious and iconic. sort of impossible for me not to picture him with golden hair.

however when jean was all startled and went “blond” when he saw jeremy’s hair. reader i died

english major jeremy is still a gift to me personally

kevin bargaining and arguing for his history major..my baby…the mentions of kevin and kevin’s actual appearances in tsc are everything. the postcards and magnets…kill me

every time neil showed up i lost my mind i love him SO MUCH!!!

see my problem is i wish the foxes showed up more even though it makes no sense for them to. i want kevin jeremy and jean in a room together. i will kill for jean and allison interaction especially if they talk about renee (yes i am holding onto renison still). i want jeremy and cat and matt and dan to hang out. i need laila to meet andrew. i need more renee I LOVE RENEE we did get a good amount of her though i think. she was everything.

genuinely think the way jean and renee was handled here was so perfect. i totally see the merit of it if they end the series together. i also see why jean might end the series without being with anyone romantically. but narratively i cant help but feel jerejean is what makes the most sense. the reason i liked them in the first place is their narrative appeal. and they were genuinely so good in this. so. idk. can’t think about that too much.

i have some problems with the writing like i did with the og series but um the thing is i cannot view these books objectively because they impacted me so much at a young age. i will say i wish tsc could have had a professional editor lol.

i also have some issues with the pacing tho because i did not expect it to end there at all? im so glad she started it where she did but when it ended i was like WAIT WHAT

i have a feeling the reason riko did what he did with the backliners is because he saw jean looking at kevin. could be wrong here but judging from how often jean talks about learning his lesson about looking at guys too long. well.

the main thing for me is that i don’t see how we’re going to get to championships in 2 books if this book only covered till the summer. you could argue exy games arent that important for jean’s story but i do think they are insanely important for jeremy’s story. and if he’s a pov character i want more about him!! that man is keeping his issues locked up (I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY R) but we can tell he loves exy and he needs to win his last year

my memory of the extra content is so dim and some of it i have voluntarily chosen to forget or just not consider plus i think some of it will/has changed. but i think i remember reading that trojans win for their last year and i Need that to happen. cause in my head it went: foxes win neil’s first year and trojans win neil’s second year and jeremy’s last year. idc for the rest i want neil to have won championships twice or at least once as captain so that’s what happens in my head.

like i need more about jeremy teaching jean to love exy again and more about jeremy’s apparently complicated family issues with exy???? jeremy let me in.

anywayy. this book feels like a fever dream and im going insane

#tsc lb #tsc spoilers #THIS IS SO LONG #sorry i keep adding more things when i think of them

17 notes · View notes

shuichi1-1 · 1 year

Text

How would some of the agents react to you nearly dying on a mission

This is my first ever post, so i am kind of nervous lmao ;;

Characters: Cypher, Killjoy and Yoru

Theme: Fluff ig

Warnings: None

Cypher

He would be the really, if not the most worried of them all.

He still has trouble accepting the death of Nora and his family, but since he met you, things have gotten easier for him

He couldnt bear losing you too.

He would lose himself while trying to find your killer.

The moment that he is informed by Sage, or Skye that you are unconscious, he leaves everything he was doing and rushes to you.

After that incident, expect to have cameras all over your room.

He also requests to be in every mission that you are put in, so he could watch over you silently with his Operator.

"I couldnt imagine losing you, you nearly scared me into death. Dont ever do that again, please." He unhooked the straps of his mask, and hugs you tightly while covering his face in the crook of your neck. When you are allowed to go back into your bedroom, expect him to sleep with you, he also set up his tripwires around your bedroom.

The morning after, theres fresh Moroccan tea waiting for you on the nightstand and a breakfast he prepared, well tried.

Killjoy

Poor girl would sweat bullets worrying for you, she will set up her alarm bot in your rooms door just to be cautious.

When she heard you were heavily injured, she was stressing out, hoping you were okay.

The next morning, she was already there when you woke up and bombs you with questions of what happened.

Would also try her best to take care of you, but lets be honest, she cant even take care of herself medical wise. Always forgets to take medications because she is cought up working late.

You would have to end up telling her to go to sleep because she works extra hard on her robots to make you safer on the battlefiels.

If you are on a mission she is not assigned in, she would slip one of her robots in your bag before youre flying off.

"Mein gott, please be safer! You gave me a heart attack, i was so worried...Why didnt you call for backup? Wait, were the mics not working?! I have to work on them more, this wouldnt have happened..!" She starty blaming herself for letting you get hurt, even if she wasnt there, if the earpieces wouldve worked, maybe Phoenix or Jett couldve helped you.

She hugs you tightly and wraps her puffy jacket over the both of you. After that day, she spends entire nights trying to create better pieces.

Expect to have her worrying the shit out of herself for the next few missions and you have to calm her down.

Yoru

He fights back the urge to teleport to you that instant, but he will never admit that.

Probably the most grumpiest about it of them all.

When he hears that youve been seriously hurt, he gets all moody and will snap at anyone who tries to assure him that youll be fine.

He goes and sends you gifts while you are unconscious, but denied everything if you ask him about it.

He always tags along in your missions, and always have a teleport ready by your side.

If it was his other self who have injured you, he would distance himself, worried that you are now scared of him.

He would blame himself for not being there but he wouldnt ever let the egoistical facade crumble infront of everyone.

"How could you end up in that situation dumbass?! I always told you to call me if youre in trouble! Tch, cant you be more carefull?!" He scolds you a lot after that but he truly cares about you, he would tell the healer who tends you, to be extra watchfull for any minor injuries too. He would he more grumpy for a few days but return to his normal self when you are all healed. Probably will tell you to back off for the next mission because youre too weak, but in reality he is just worried that your wounds may open up.

Thats it, i hope it was good and i apologize for any minor spelling mistakes i did ;; I take any requests but i am in school so it is difficult a little but ill do the requests in about 2 days max! Please dm me to requests because i forget comments

#valorant #valorant x reader #killjoy x reader #yoru x reader #cypher x reader #x reader #fanfiction #commission #first post #headcanon

262 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 2 years

Text

Title: Star-Crossed: #HFT {1}****

Professor Chris Evans x OFC University Student Calliope “Cali” Jamison AU

Warning: NSFW, Cursing, 18+ Content, PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot,

Word Count: 12.2k

Synopsis: Look out for it in chapters 3 or 7.

Note: Another one because I can't stop thinking about this idea. I have been sitting on this for MONTHS because I wanted to wait until I wrapped some things up BUT life is short and I wanna share this. I have been thinking about this trope a lot. I am in no way condoning teacher-student relationships especially if said student is a minor and/or not of sound mind. However, I am a lot more open to a college professor-college student relationship. I prefer this trope to any in its subgenre/sub-trope even though it may not be ethically proper, depending on the debate you listen to. That being said I’ve wanted to tackle this idea of mine for some time and dipped my toes in with “Anatomy 101” which I wanted to expand on some time in the future. Now, I am going to remix and expand on this professor-student trope. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Note II: Included is some Moroccan Arabic/Arabic in general. The translations are provided by Google.com. If the translation is incorrect, I apologize, please don’t hold it against me. Feel free to correct me, I don’t mind.

As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging. I appreciate it!!!!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!

****Characters in this Fiction Story are of legal age, sound mind, and are consenting through no dubious means. ****

**NOT Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive***

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

Derived from but not really a continuation: Anatomy 101

Chapter One: Desert Rose

“Cali, try not to wander too far tonight.”

You looked in the mirror at your father who was rustling through a folder of papers on his right while an ancient-looking book rested in front of him. It was his latest acquisition on yet another one of his excursions. His face never looked up from the papers. It was classic for her father, the man who was able to do ten things at once with two eyes, and two hands. Sometimes you thought his brain was a super machine that none other could rival. He always amazed you. Not just with his intellect or aptitude in his field but with his passion for what he did and how he lived his life.

It was him who instilled in you the desire to travel and find the answers to the world and humanity through travel, languages, literature, and love. He believed we were all connected through those three things and through those things could we better understand each other. He and these trips were probably the reasons you’d decided to transfer colleges and switch majors while tacking on a few more for good measure. If any little girl ever felt like their father was their hero, you were that little girl. He was yours.

He looked to you, and you took in his appearance with his glasses lodge on his nose bridge and his forehead crinkled from deep thinking. He was no longer a young man, but the years had been kind to him—very kind.

“Understood young lady?”

You rolled your eyes at his faux authoritative tone then sighed, “Dad, I’m twenty-two. I think the days of me being a young lady are long gone.”

“Twenty-one. Your birthday hasn’t come yet. We still have three months.”

“Two months and twenty-nine days, thank you,” you corrected.

He scoffed then shook his head. “You have your whole life to get old Calliope. Don’t rush it. One day you will be my age thinking where the time went.”

“I can take that as long as I am exactly where you are in your career,” you replied.

He smiled and put the papers in his hand down. “As long as you remember career isn’t everything. Living is most important.”

You thought about his words for a moment then continued applying your lip color. A silence that stuck for a few minutes befell the room. Once you were satisfied with your bold makeup application, you stood.

“Where are you off to tonight?”

“There is this lounge I wanted to check out before we left. It’s supposed to be real chill.”

“Ah, a lounge. All right, just remember our flight is tomorrow at five, and you cannot be late,” your father drilled.

“I know dad. I won’t be late.”

You readjusted your dress, smoothing your palms over the thin creases your sitting had created, then walked to your purse. Beside it, the vase of vibrant colored hibiscus flowers caught your eye. You traced your fingers along a delicate petal and plucked a red one out of the mass to arrange in your hair just behind your ear. Pleased with how it complimented your dress and the exotic look it gave you, you nodded to your reflection. When you got to your father you kissed his cheek.

“Don’t work all night dad. It’s our last night here. Who knows when you’ll be back. Take some time to smell the desert air.”

He sighed and looked up and through the panoramic window before him. No doubt the desert was calling his name.

“Don’t wait up,” you whispered before you scurried to the door.

“Don’t drink too much,” he called out just as you closed the door behind you.

You planned on drinking too much, taking part in some of the unspoken draws of Morocco, and dancing until your feet hurt. This was your last night of fun before the next chaotic and rigorous stage of your life began. You didn’t expect to have any free time to accompany your father on his work trips for the foreseeable future. As you waited for the elevator to open into the lobby of your hotel you took a quick selfie with the gold backdrop of the elevator wall. That and the warm lighting only enhanced your look.

By the time the elevator opened, you’d posted your selfie with a simple caption of red-painted kissy lips and a hibiscus flower. Less was more after all. As you walked across the lobby, you felt eyes flit toward you. You received several head nods and pleasing smiles that said the look was much appreciated.

“Can I get you a car ma’am?”

One of the hotel valets stood outside in his red and gold uniform waiting for your reply.

“How far from here is Shaida?”

“Hm, maybe a fifteen-minute walk or a five to eight-minute car ride.”

You weighed your options while looking up and down the street. The night was beautiful, the weather divine, and part of you wanted to take it all in.

“If I may ma’am, I suggest a car. After a two-minute walk, the heat will make it impossible to not sweat.”

You smirked then shrugged. “You might be right. Thank you.”

He stretched his arm out and seconds later a black car pulled up with one of the hotel’s drivers behind the wheel. The valet opened the backdoor for you then waited as you climbed in.

“Enjoy your evening ma’am.”

You thanked him just as the car pulled off. Settling into the seat you kept your eyes glued to the views that passed the window. Morocco was a favorite destination for you. This was your eighth time coming and each time still felt new to you. The truth was, Morocco held a special place in your heart, it was the land of your maternal side. Your father had met your mother twenty-seven years ago while he was fresh out of grad school while studying for his doctorate. He’d always said she opened him up to a whole different view on life. It was a view that influenced everything he did after meeting her whether it was professional or personal.

The savory scent of street foods cooking all around you made you moan and your stomach rumble, but you ignored it not wanting to get sidetracked. Only a few minutes passed, and the driver was pulling up to the entrance of the lounge. From the looks of the street, it didn’t look like it was a well-known place because it was so nestled off of the beaten path, but you didn’t care. After thanking the driver, you stepped onto the sidewalk and walked the few remaining feet to the door. Standing outside was a man dressed in street clothes with a makeshift bandana wrapped around his head. He looked you over once then averted his eyes back to scoping out the street.

Once you stepped inside you realized that the exterior looks were deceiving. It was a full house. The heady scent of flowers, incense, smoke, and a mixture of snacks hit you like a train and you immediately felt transported to a different time in history. The hypnotizing sounds of an Arabian Flute and the Bendir played cohesively together to make you feel like could have been transported back to the time of King Idriss of the Idrisid Dynasty.

As you walked through, you scoped it out impressed by the sultry red décor that screamed both royalty and sin and taken aback by how smoky the place was. It didn’t take long for you to feel as if you’d made the right choice for the night. Finding a place at the bar you sat and adjusted to the vibes of the establishment getting lost in the music. You understood now who the man outside was, he was a scout. This was one of the few places one could come and enjoy Morocco with a touch of both modern and ancient. A man passed you puffing from a tube and from the scent of the smoke you knew the risk this place was taking. Hash.

“You have the distinct look of both a tourist and a local.”

You spun around to the woman behind the bar whose curly hair must have been the envy of everyone she knew. She had a mischievous smile that only highlighted her kind eyes.

“I guess I can be classified as somewhat of both,” you said.

The woman took you in a bit longer, fully assessing you.

“Ah, I see. Our blood flows through you but you are American.”

You smiled and nodded.

“In that case welcome. Blood is what matters here.”

She took a glass down and poured a clear liquid into a glass then placed it in front of you.

“What is this?”

She didn’t look as if she were going to answer so you did the only hospitable thing—knocked it back. Instantly, you knew what it was, Mahia. This was your traditional welcome.

“Mm, thank you.”

She nodded. “So, tell me, are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Me? Well, the business is done so I’m all about the pleasure.”

The bartender smiled widely and refilled your glass. “Then you have come to the right place. We have drink, music, dancing, snacks if you choose, and—substances.” She nodded to a passing woman who was also puffing from a tube.

“Let’s start with the first three and see where the night takes me.”

She smacked the bar, “I like you.”

She walked off to tend to another customer and your eyes followed and watched her pour another man a drink. Just behind her, you caught sight of a man who seemed out of place but also looked like he belonged. The glass in his hand was almost empty and the way he held it said a lot about him. Where everyone else would hold it fully, with the palms of their hands, he held it with just his fingertips. Nine out of ten people at a bar would hold the glass in the middle, he held it closer to the rim and the icing on top was him holding it with his pointer out instead of his pinky.

You’d been around a lot of men in your life -thanks to your father and his line of work- that you’d taken a large interest in your own life experiences, and you’d come across them all. Men who were meek and soft-spoken because they never fully asserted themselves and preferred for things and people to come to them. Men who were boisterous and presumptuous and assumed everything was meant for them and attempted to claim it all regardless of what anyone else said. Men who were easily overlooked because of their non-threatening disposition, and even men who were hard to miss because of their titillating mix of all of the above.

From the way he held his glass, to the way he sat on the battered wooden stool you could tell there was something different about him. You didn’t know what yet. You watched as he drained the glass, placed it on the bar then tapped the rim while making eye contact with the soulful-eyed lady bartender. She topped off his glass without a word then busied herself with the patrons around her. With the glass firmly between his fingers again he took another long sip while his eyes remained glued to his phone. Your curiosity piqued as an urge to know what he was doing overtook you and you got lost thinking of all the possibilities.

Heavy Arabic speaking drew your attention to your right. When you turned, an attractive man with deep-set brown eyes, a full goatee, and a man bun of lustrous locks. He looked like a blend of an old-fashioned but modern local. His full lips moved again.

“Aljamal almahaliyu.” {Local beauty?}

You smiled. You’d always found the Arabic language beautiful.

“American?” He lifted his brow as a look of uncertainty filled his features.

You snorted and took a sip from your glass.

“Aljamal almahaliyu wulid fi 'amrika,” you replied. {Local beauty born in America.}

The man smiled widely as surprise and satisfaction filled his eyes.

“Your Arabic is very good,” he complimented in damn near perfect English. The only thing that gave him away was his heavy accent.

“And your English is quite good.”

He held out his hand to you, “Deladim.”

You shook his hand.

“Cal.”

The softness of his hands contradicted the ruggedness of his outfit. His clothes said he could have been an explorer, but his hands said he was a masseuse. “Interesting name,” you followed up.

“Well, my full name is Abdeladim, but Deladim is what my friends call me, and Dim is what my lovers call me.”

His words were like a lite tap against your cheek out of the blue, shocking.

“Wow.”

Every time you’d come to Morrocco with your father, you’d been approached by plenty of smooth-talking locals who all thought they could snag an American for the night for their stories with their buddies. You never fell for it.

“Very bold of you.”

You turned your body back to the bar and continued nursing your drink as Deladim continued to give you his best lines. By the fourth line, your eyes slipped to your left to find the same man from before now watching you. His drink was ever present in his hand, but the screen of his phone was now dark. You had his undivided attention. There was something in the way he looked at you, something in his eyes that made you feel like he darted an electric current right through you. Your skin tingled and that slight curiosity about his reading preferences had not transitioned into full-blown wonder over who this man was.

You didn’t know how long you’d stared at each other, but he was the one to look away first and when he did his luminescent blue orbs went right back into his phone. Before he lifted it to his face you glimpsed words. Was he reading a book in a bar?

“Took care of it,” the lady bartender said before you as she nudged her head to your right.

The seat beside you that was filled a short while ago, was now empty.

“A blind man could tell you weren’t interested,” she filled in.

You smiled, raised your glass to her, and took a mouthful of the strong liquid.

A short while later and a handful of drinks, you’d drifted over to the lounging area of the business where men were smoking and chatting up a storm, mellowing out to the soft sounds of Moroccan wooden instruments. The smoke in the air only heightened the hedonistic vibes of your surroundings and you didn’t mind one bit. Feeling like wanting to take a walk on the wild side for your last night in town, you decided to partake. After a blend recommendation from the bartender, you got comfortable in a slightly secluded corner that was draped in red silk and shadows and lit up the hookah contraption. This was by no means your first recreational excursion.

Upon your first inhale, you moaned gratefully for the choice. Its aroma was similar to flowers but there were hints of fruit and smoked nuts but those did not distract from the strength of the drug itself. You leaned back, closed your eyes, and let everything that you’d been worried about earlier drift away. Nothing mattered, not the looming start date of your third year of college, not the stress of moving from one top tier university to another top tier university in the middle of your degree program, not the double stress of changing said degree program and adding two more on for a full-on double major with double concentrations. You knew the next two years would be your most rigorous and though you’d never admitted it out loud, you were slightly worried you wouldn’t be able to pull it all together.

A few more puffs and your mind was as empty as your glass. Across from you, your eyes met the stranger from earlier, and again his eyes were on you. Under this light and in this atmosphere, you itched to touch him. Seconds away from blurting a likely thirsty comment, you bit your bottom lip hoping that would stop the words. It barely worked; the urge remained.

“You look like you have something to say,” he said.

You instinctively turned to look behind you, but only came face to face with the wall. When you looked back at him, he smirked, lifted his glass then took a puff from his own hookah-like contraption. When he blew out you watched the smoke drift up in a hypnotizing swirl-like spiral. This wasn’t his first recreational excursion either.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His eyes met yours again while you sat there dumbfounded.

“Feeling jealous about it? Would you rather have my tongue instead?”

His smile was wider and again that spiral of smoke escaped. “I don’t know how easy you think I am, but I’m not that kind of man.”

You snorted then giggled unable to keep it in. He sounded like one of those women who used that as a defense to throw the man they were interested in off the fact that they really were that kind of woman -a liberated woman who never needed to make excuses for her behavior and was damn proud of it- but they didn’t want them to know that.

“Then what kind of man are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He sat there watching you. His eyes roamed over you in the sultriest way, in a way that no others had traveled you. A small flame lit at the nape of your spine that made you sit up even more. Your body was on full alert for something impending, something that would change your life. Was it him?

After a long pause, he spoke, “You’re welcome to find out on one condition.”

Interested, you took a long drag from the tube and slowly swallowed before making an “o” with your mouth to huff out the smoke in a series of o shapes. He softly smiled before sipping his drink.

“What condition?”

His smile stretched. “You have to throw in some Arabic here and there.”

You smiled and that small flame at your spine went up a notch in intensity and location. You patted the seat beside you and waited to see his move. It didn’t take long for him to stand and walk over with his hookah contraption and drink in his hands. The closer he got to you, the more you could make out his outfit. The black appearing jeans he wore had rips at the knees and gave the peekaboo effect showing off his flesh and outlining what looked like slim but strong thighs.

As your eyes raked up his body, the semi-tight white shirt he wore gave you an idea that he either had a six or eight pack and that was when your teeth sank into your bottom lip. He placed the hookah down beside yours then sat in the seat that you’d patted seconds ago. The rush of air gave you your first whiff of him. He smelled like the incense that was currently surrounding you but also musky scents that were so similar to cedar or hickory and a touch of sweetness. It was completely masculine, completely unique to him with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, something different.

“How did you know I was speaking Arabic?”

He smiled, leaned forward, and took another long drag from the Hookah. As he blew the smoke out, he looked at you. “I know and can recognize tens of languages.”

“Do you speak it?”

He shuffled his head then shrugged, “Conversationally. I’m by no means a local beauty.”

You smiled hearing him tease you with what the man from before had called you.

“Cute.”

You took your own pull from your Hookah and allowed several moments to pass in silence.

“He wasn’t wrong though. You are a beauty.”

Your eyes met his but only for a moment before he looked down and into his glass. He swirled the liquid then downed the rest.

“Thank you but I’m sure you must say this to all the girls you meet in underground Moroccan clubs while smoking semi-illegal hash.”

He checked and it was deep, and it made you wonder what his actual laugh sounded like.

“I don’t meet any girls in underground clubs in Morrocco while smoking semi-illegal hash, much less talk to them. You would be my first.”

Your eyes lingered and you couldn’t ignore the thrill that raced through you.

“Oh I do so love exclusivity,” you said while batting your eyelashes.

It was an action he snorted at. A few more moments passed in comfortable silence.

“So, tell me, what is a Moroccan rose doing here? Business or pleasure?”

“Moroccan rose?”

A small shy smile spread across his lips and for a second you didn’t think he would clarify.

“It’s uh—your scent. You smell like Moroccan roses.”

You stared at him surprised he could smell you in a place so filled with so many smells.

“I didn’t know you could smell me.”

“I smelled you since the moment you sat down at the bar. Moroccan roses with a slight hint of hibiscus,” he said nodding to the bud still in my hair. “You’re quite distracting.”

He went right back to puffing from his Hookah as if he hadn’t dropped two very important facts. One, he noticed you as soon as you walked in and two, he found your scent distracting. Those were very good signs.

“Uh—pleasure, strictly pleasure,” you replied.

His head snapped to you, and you glanced at him with a coy smirk.

“I came for a bit of business, but it’s really been only for pleasure. This is my last stop and tonight was supposed to be the culmination of that fun. Sort of like my last hoorah.”

“Ah, a wanderer?”

You leaned back and sighed. “I have been known to wander a bit but not all those who wander are lost.”

The smirk on his lips disappeared and his head cocked to the side.

“Tolkien.”

You smiled and nodded, “A favorite quote.”

He didn’t speak for a few moments, instead, he just stared at you, locking your eyes. The look that flashed across his face made you curious. He looked like he’d just discovered something rare, seen something he couldn’t understand or explain. As soon as the look came, it went, replaced by one of awe.

“Gorgeous chaos, he mumbled in a hypnotized daze.

“What?”

“She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos and you can see it in her eyes.”

The way he said it made your heart race so fast you could have sworn it was audible over the instruments in the club. He looked as though he were looking through you, either right to your soul or to every little atom that made up your aura and all the stars of your being. In all your years you’d never been looked at like this. He looked at you like the reflection of the universe, and all of the galaxies could be seen through your orbs like he was so transfixed that if he dared look away the world itself would crumble around us casting us into oblivion, like dreams were made of this one moment and his dreams were all about me. Every woman wished someone would look at them like this and right now you didn’t want this moment to end.

“Let not light see my black and deep desires,” he added.

Fuck, you thought. You felt like he’d just cast a spell on you that pinned you right where you were. You watched his hand lift and move toward your face but before he touched your cheek his hand froze. Shaking his head, he dropped his hand while clearing his throat.

“God, I’m very sorry. I don’t know what—what came over me,”

He took a deep pull from his tube and kept his eyes forward. You cleared your throat and took another pull of your hash. “It’s okay. No harm no foul. Let’s just consider the effects of Charles Bukowski and Shakespear. A two-hit quitter.”

“You know those quotes?”

Blowing out the smoke, you nodded, “Yep. Charles Bukowski and Shakespeare, Mcbeth.”

He looked impressed.

“Wow, many would get Shakespeare because he’s a classic but not Charles Bukowski.”

“You shrugged. “What am I say, I’m a total literature snob.”

“All literature or just American?”

“All. The thoughts and writing practices around the world have always fascinated me. Did you know in some parts of the world the style often reflects societal beliefs of love?”

You could feel yourself running to the edge and prepared to jump off it though you remembered the looks most of your exes and flings gave you whenever you went off on a tangent about literature and love. It didn’t stop you.

“Through research and travel I find that though every area in the world relates to love, African and Middle Eastern literature whether novels, memoirs, or even poetry showcase it in such a way that one cannot miss the sentiment of love.”

Without giving him a moment to interject, you continued pointing out things your father had shown you on this trip. Things that were from well over two hundred years ago. You’d spent hours lost in the texts just immersing yourself in what life and love were like then. By the time you stopped speaking and your eyes returned to him, you’d realized you’d done it again.

“Uh--,” you awkwardly began trying to find the words to smooth things over or show him you weren’t so bookworm. However, the words escaped you. Sighing you continued, “I’m sorry I just—do that sometimes. I’ll stop.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your intelligence and passion for learning. A well-read mind is a beautiful mind and yours I can already tell would make many drunk off its beauty.”

He had a way with words—a beautiful, sensual, and sweet way, a way that made you eager to know more about him. A slow smile spread across your lips before you dipped your head feeling the full weight of your self-consciousness.

“Um--.”

“I’m Chris.”

He held his hand out to you waiting for you to take it. After a few moments of contemplation, you took it.

“Cali.”

Shaking his hand, you allowed yours to linger for a bit longer than necessary, as did he. It was your turn to get lost in his eyes, his impossibly deep eyes that somehow in the dark shone bright blue. You both released each other at the same time but your hands rested on the seat between you, so close but so far.

“Tell me more about literature steeped in love.”

You smiled then continued not needing any more of an invite. The next several hours passed with the two of you in an enthralling conversation about literature of all sorts and the differences between cultures, beliefs, and even society. You tapped into your knowledge from your major and all that you’ve learned over the last two and a half years on top of the things you’d discovered while traveling with your father. The more you talked about the topic the more you realized you’d made the right decision in changing your major and eventual career path.

When Chris tuned in and added his own findings and experiences you couldn’t help but sit there mesmerized by his intellect. You’d always had a weakness for a smart man. This man happened to be blessed with brains and beauty—a deadly combination. All you wanted to do when he spoke was listen and pay attention. There was something commanding about him, something that demanded attention.

“Am I boring you?”

“Huh? What?”

He smirked then bit his bottom lip and your eyes dropped to them.

“You’re staring like you’re lost,” Chris explained.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I was listening to you just—lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking?”

You looked around the room and realized that there were plenty more people who’d wandered in and the new additions made the club louder. You knew then that you’d been sitting here much longer than you’d thought. You roamed your eyes over him resigning to your fate. It had to have been fate. A man who looked like him, who was your type in every way that mattered, who checked every intelligence criteria box you had and made you want to do such bad, dirty, nasty things too. Talking to him had only intensified your desire for him.

“Highly inappropriate things,” you said before grabbing your freshly refilled glass to take a sip.

“Care to share with the class?”

Resting your hand on the back of the seat, you nudged your jaw in your palm and gazed at him trying to decide if you were drunk enough.

“What if your highly inappropriate thoughts match mine?”

Your belly fluttered. Was he saying that he has also been having inappropriate thoughts about you this whole time? You were at a loss for words and that was rare. His amusement twinkled in his eyes but there was something else there—seduction.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

His lips quirked before he tipped his glass to them.

“Me?”

He scoffed. “I don’t think I have one seductive bone in my body.”

He had to be kidding. You’d been trying to find one unattractive thing about him for hours, just one and every attempt was a failure.

“I’ve been sitting here with you for the last few hours, and I doubt that very much.”

Chris smiled and under the colored lights, you could have sworn you saw him bite his bottom lip. It was a quick action but done in such a sensual way that goosebumps pricked your skin.

“Have I seduced you, Cali?

“It could be that you have, or it could be these never-ending drinks, or the hash and whatever else is in the air. Who’s to say.”

“See, told you, not one seductive bone in me. You on the other hand--.”

“What about me?”

Chris looked like he was weighing the pros and cons of divulging this information.

“Foreswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night!”

A giddy giggle escaped you and you clamped your hand over your mouth a tab bit too late. Chris laughed joining in with your laughter.

“Oh my god,” you said before an abomination came out of your mouth in the sound of a snort, straight-up Steve Urkle style.

Horrified your eyes widened but Chris only laughed harder, clapping his hand over his chest. He didn’t look to mind. “Cute”.

As if the compliment was the incantation to opening King Midas’ doors, you slid closer realizing somehow your bodies had naturally drifted closer to one another already. Now he was only a few inches from you. Again, Chris’s hand rose and traveled to you, this time he didn’t stop until he was centimeters from you.

“May I?”

You nodded. The back of his hand touched your jaw softly, then he slowly trailed It up to your ear before turning it so he cupped your cheek. The heat from his palm seared your skin in the most delicious way making your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Are you saying my beauty has seduced you?”

Chris didn’t speak at once; he just allowed his thumb to skitter across your cheek in feather-lite touches, but they couldn’t be missed. Your skin tingled, heart raced, and stomach knotted. His effect on you was so instantaneous that you couldn’t help but be confused.

“Cali—I dare say that you have bewitched my mind--.” His thumb slid across your bottom lip.

“--My eyes--.” Now it was pulling your bottom lip down ever so slightly feeling.

“--And my curiosity with far more than your beauty.”

On instinct, you caught the tip of his thumb between your teeth and but down—not enough to hurt though. A deep groan fell from him, and holy hell did it sound sexy as fuck. Not only did your brain think so but so did your body, the evidence was the slickness between your legs. You watched his face drift closer and closer to yours but when he was a few inches from your lips he stopped and waited. You were confused for only a few seconds when it dawned on you, he wanted you to have equal say in how this moment played out. He wanted to know that you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you.

Chris's eyes were on yours searching but patiently waiting. They flited between your eyes and your lips, and you wanted to know how patient of a man he was. As if he heard your thoughts, he smirked.

“I am a very patient man, Cali. I could make you break before you me.”

The cockiness coming off of him only heightened your attraction to him. Any other time when it hadn’t been over six months since you’d been with someone or with any other man that didn’t look like him or think like him you would have enjoyed making him eat those words. Tonight—you’d rather him eat something else. With a smirk of your own, you crashed your lips to his and showed him how much you wanted to kiss him.

Chris moaned on your mouth, allowing you to lead the action. His lips felt at home on yours, a perfect fit, and the electricity crackling through you said they were possibly meant for yours. That electricity is what made you pull back to look at him. Did he feel it too? The look in his eyes said he had felt it and it was having the same effect on him.

“Holy shit,” you said.

A wide smile lit his face and this time both of you took lead slamming your lips together again. His hands were on you in seconds, one pulling you flush against his upper half, the other cupping your skull, holding your head in place as he kissed you senseless and into the most frenzied state of arousal you’d ever been in. You wanted this man—this man you only knew a handful of things about—this man you’d only known for a few hours. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anything.

Dipping your tongue into his mouth, you wrapped it around his, but he beat you to what happened next. Chris sucked your tongue in a slow sensual rhythm. With each one, you moaned and with each moan, Chris held you closer. You didn’t know if the rapid pounding against your breasts was his heart or yours and you doubted it mattered. When Chris nibbled your bottom lip, you whimpered and gripped him at his waist, crumpling his crisp white t-shirt. You didn’t know when it happened but when you felt the hard rippled ridges on him you realized your hand had somehow made it underneath his shirt. His body quivered while a shudder slipped from his lips.

“The way I react to you and you to me,” he croaked out, his voice husky, raw, and full of desire. “It’s intoxicating.”

You smiled and tipped your tongue out to trace along his lips. He sat there still letting you explore the taste of him. The more you tasted the more you wanted and without warning, he bit your tongue and sucked it into his mouth pulling you into another soul-swapping kiss.

“Christ! Do you want to go somewhere else?”

You moved your face until there were a few inches between your lips and peered into his eyes. You were met by the same patience, the same self-control but now it was not as tightly bound. You nodded first, then spoke, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Both of you stood and went into motion in unison, him making a move to the bar to settle both of your tabs while you to the restrooms to touch yourself up. A few minutes later, you met him at the door then dipped into a waiting taxi. You got lost in the view once it pulled around the corner to show the darkened beach but when you felt a large hand rest just above your knee at your thigh your attention went right back to where it belonged.

Sitting beside you, he looked like a man who’d made up his mind to seduce you, his eyelashes were low, eyes a mixture of bright blue in color but heavy in headiness. If seduction was a person, he was sitting across from you. Biting your bottom lip, you sucked it into your mouth. Chris’ hand inched higher and higher until it was halfway up your thigh with his fingers kneading the fleshiest part of your inner thigh. A soft moan escaped you.

His reaction was a pleased smile that instantly made you feel shy. Pressing your fingertips to your lips, you turned your head from him to the window and giggled behind it. His fingers never stopped kneading and the more they moved the more you wanted to moan. You liked them on you. suddenly you felt his nose nuzzle your ear.

“God, you’re sexy. I can’t wait to hear that moan loud and clear,” he whispered.

If the eyes of the taxi driver weren’t steadily peeping into the rearview mirror at the two of you, you would have stuck your tongue down his throat. Keeping some equanimity about you; you put your hand on his thigh a few inches from his inseam and squeezed. His groan was guttural and filled with so much yearning your belly did backflips from anticipation.

Before you knew it, the car stopped. Chris thanked the driver, then came around to open your door. With his hand held out, he waited for you to place yours in it. Giddiness took over and you took his hand. He then pulled you out of the car flush against him. You giggled again and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist as he dropped a teasing open-mouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. He cupped your skull and kept you right where he wanted you as he tasted your neck. You easily got lost in the sensation and the way his lips sent tingles all through you.

“Moroccan rose will be my favorite scent for the rest of my life now,” he mumbled against you.

“Such a sweet talker.”

Chris yanked the back of your neck and crashed his lips to yours, rolling his tongue with yours and nipping at your lips. Moaning you wrapped your arms around him his neck and sagged against him. He began walking backward but he held you tightly never making you feel like you would fall. You felt sand between your toes and that fact was so startling you broke the kiss. When you glanced around you saw the desert before you.

“Oh my god, I thought we were going to your hotel.”

“I didn’t book one. That’s where I’m staying,”, he said pointing off to the right.

A large tent was pitched, and it bellowed with the gentle night breeze.

“A tent? Are you camping?”

“With a view like this, I couldn’t bear to have walls separating me from it. Trust me it’s not as rustic as you’re thinking. Come on.”

Chris took your hand and lead the way to the wood-planked walkway. As he led you, you took notice of the other pitched tents in the vicinity. They weren’t miles away, but they definitely weren’t close enough to be nosey. When you got to the entrance, he unzipped the flap and lifted it allowing you to go in first. When you stepped inside it was like stepping into a little piece of ancient Morocco. This was glamping.

The lanterns around the space were lit and decorative images danced around the roof and walls of the tent. It was beautiful.

“Wow.”

“Like it?”

You nodded. He took your hand again and led you to the back through another flap. To the back, there was a deck, and it showed the vastness of the desert. Where sand touched the sky, the indigo glow was breathtaking. Here the stars were the most visible.

“Wow—incredible.”

You got lost in the stars searching for your favorite constellations.

“Wow, I can see Hercules,” you said pointing out the constellation to the right. “And Canis Major, my god you can clearly see how it resembles a dog. Look.”

Your voice betrayed your excitement. That excitement was how you didn't realize how close he was until you felt his arms wrap around your stomach. His bearded chin nestled in the crook where your shoulder and neck met.

“There is Altair and over there is Vega. Do you know their story?”

You shook your head. Before he spoke again, he kissed a path from your neck to your ear then back down.

“Vega was a celestial princess, one of the goddesses of the sky. That meant she was immortal. Though she was immortal that didn’t stop her from worrying about what everyone else in this world desires--.”

His teeth grazed your shoulder and snapped the thin strap of your dress. With his teeth, he pulled it off your shoulder and then brought kisses back up your shoulder.

“She was worried as it seemed she would live in eternity alone without an everlasting love. Love that she’d watched plenty a mortal obtain.”

He trailed kisses along the back of your neck to your other shoulder and mirrored the same actions. With your straps off your shoulders, the material began to sag off your body. Your skin was cool thanks to the breeze but just beneath the surface you were sweltering, and it was his doing.

“One day Altair, a mere mortal, caught the eye of Vega from her celestial perch. She was so besotted with his beauty and his form that--.”

His large hands slipped a little higher to untie the strings just underneath your breasts. From there it was an easy slide for the dress to fall to your ankles.

“She descended from the heavens to greet him--.”

He turned you to face him then stepped back and slowly looked over your naked body. The heat in his eyes could have ignited sand itself.

“They fell deeply in love. It was a love poetry and plays were written about. A love so all-encompassing, so passionate, so life-altering. They lived every day of his mortal life together until they both retired to the skies to never part for all eternity.”

His voice alone could give orgasms, it was that hypnotizing, that enticing. That coupled with the way he was looking at you in this moment it was impossible to not squirm.

“You give Byron’s words new meaning. She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus, mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

Fuck, you thought as a fresh gush of moisture dampened your panties.

“You’re beautiful Cali—so beautiful.”

The wind blew but before you could shiver, he was there shielding you, holding you close, caressing your skin tracing a path of fire and desire up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. When he cupped your jaw, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed you softly and slowly teased you. When he broke the kiss, he tailed his lips to your neck and sucked then dipped down. When he stood again, he had you in his arms.

When you felt his lips on your nipple you exclaimed, throwing your head back. If his lips on your neck felt good, now they felt like heaven. As he licked and pleased your flesh, he sat on the reclining chair. With you straddling him, he took your other breast into his hand and kneaded it.

Instantly your back arched; “Mmmm.”

“So receptive of me.”

For emphasis, Chris pinched the nipple that was just between his lips. You sucked in a sharp breath and angled your back further. His hand at your tailbone stopped you from squirming too far. To intensify the sensation, he pinched your other nipple and latched his lips onto your throat.

“Oh god,” you whispered.

“You smell like roses, taste like spun sugar, feel like heaven, but tempt me like a seductress. You’ll drive me mad.”

He licked the swell of your breast and the valley between then shook his head in between your breasts. One second you were relishing the wanton feelings bubbling within you, and the next your fingers were laced in his hair yanking his head back so you could feast on his lips. His moans echoed into the desert behind you enhancing the sultry vibes of the moment you were sharing.

Abandoning his hair, you lifted the hem of his shirt anxious to see the rest of him. Chris sat up, lifted his arms, and allowed you to peel his shirt off. With his chest bare, your eyes dropped and took in every detail. The lite dusting of hair right below his collarbone was inviting. Normally you hated chest hair on men, you found it sloppy and cumbersome especially when it ended up in your mouth. With him, right now it was anything but. Unable to help yourself, you plastered your hands over his chiseled pecs and smoothed your fingers over them. He looked like he worked out every day.

The myriad of tattoos that were scattered across his chest and abdomen made you do a double take. You hadn’t expected it at all. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip you resisted the urge to rake your nails down his chest.

“Your eyes are glazed over, you okay?”

Embarrassment washed over you and you blinked away from his chest to his true blues.

“Perfect,” you said before kissing him again.

Seconds later, Chris stood holding you against him carrying you inside. When you felt the mattress underneath you, you perched your legs on the bed and watched him stand before you. His eyes roamed over your body again and it was like he was looking right through you.

“Did I lose you?”

He scoffed. “Not a chance, sorry I zoned out for a second.”

“Ah, not doing it for ya’ huh.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?”

He grabbed your ankle and pulled you closer to him at the edge of the bed. Keeping his hand on you, he brought your foot to his lips and kissed the bone just there. He then led kisses a little way down your leg while his other hand swirled a path along your leg. Every few kisses, he bit your flesh making chills race through you.

“Have you heard the thoughts your brain forms? God, I don’t think I have ever been this attracted to someone in my life. I’m not just attracted to your beautiful face or your incredibly sexy body.”

His lips were now at your inner thigh, and you watched him sink to his knees before he kissed that bone right beside the most private of your body, just where your thigh and pelvis met.

“Mmm.”

Chris then draped one of your legs over his shoulder while pushing the other down flat against the bed.

“This devastatingly sexy body,” he repeated before he placed a kiss at the top of your mound. “I’m attracted to your mind. This entire night I haven’t been able to help the thoughts I’ve been having like we’ve met before--.”

He hooked his fingers in your thong.

“Spoken before--.”

He pulled the material slowly down your hips then legs, then tossed it behind him.

“Touched before, kissed before.”

With that, he dropped an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss on your clit.

“Uuugh, fuck!”

“This can’t have been the first time I’ve done that.”

He led small kisses across to your pelvis then inner thigh and back again. Every kiss made you squirm, your back arch, and your fists ball the fabric on the bed.

“Are you talking about previous lives now?”

“Maybe.”

You bit down on your bottom lip then angled onto your elbows.

“Careful sounds like you’re awfully close to saying something as cliched as destined mates,” you teased.

He smirked.

“Cliched? Would I be wrong?”

Before you could answer, he delivered a long stroke of his tongue across your sex stopping any thoughts much less words. Your gasp echoed around you as you slammed your back to the bed. With your fists balled beside you, your thighs raised trying to press together to deliver the pressure you needed. However, they didn’t meet. Chris pushed them back to the bed keeping you wide for him.

“What was that Calli? I couldn’t quite hear that.”

You opened your mouth to speak but again his lips found your folds. The slow but precise flicks he delivered make goosebumps freckle your skin as if it were cold trying to preserve its heat when in truth, your body was on fire and steadily reaching the point of combustion.

“Ah, you sighed when he sucked your clit nether lips into his mouth fluctuating the pressure he gave you. When you felt the tip of his tongue dip into your entrance your hands abandoned the sheets and grabbed hold of his hair keeping his head right there.

The feel of him dipping his tongue in and out of you felt so good. He started slow and gradually sped up before he swirled his tongue within you. He slurped and you nearly levitated off of the bed.

“Mmm, you taste incredible, Calli.”

With your nails dug into his scalp, you held tightly to his hair as you felt the beginning stirs of your orgasm. Fuck, already, you thought in pure shock. He’d barely begun. Sure enough, without warning your crescendo came and your grip tightened before your thighs trapped his face between your legs with his mouth just where you needed it.

“Oh my god! Oh god, oh god, oh god! Yesss!”

Chris moaned as he pried your thighs open. Feeling bold and strong from the orgasm you were still riding, you tugged at his hair urging him up. As soon as he was close enough you kissed him, swirling your tongue with his tasting yourself. The distraction was enough to make you roll onto him to straddle his body.

“Mmm, you’re right I do taste good.”

Chris’ grip on your hips tightened as he groaned and kissed you fiercely, stealing whatever breath you had left within you. Pulling away, you traced kisses down his jaw to his neck. His hand slinked down your back to grip your bare ass. It was such a strong grip that you gasped, then groaned when you became wet all over again. You sank lower and kissed his tattooed chest, taking care to tease his hardened nipples. Every groan, moan and fluctuation in his breathing fueled your desire for him making you want to please him even more.

When you made it to his waist you began undoing his belt, then his pants. Within seconds, you had them undone but before you could make the move, Chris flipped you onto your back and crashed his lips to yours. Not having it, you rolled right back onto him but again he flipped you onto yours. The two of you giggled together realizing that neither of you was going to have your way with this one and someone had to yield.

Chris caressed your cheek and gently kissed your lips leading a path of soft kisses down your body. You watched as he trailed the flower that had been in your hair down your flesh. Everywhere it touched goosebumps appeared and everywhere it went it left behind a trail of yearning. He rotated the bud around your nipples, then slowly brought it between the globes of your breasts. When he went down your stomach, he went around your belly button taking his sweet time knowing that every second only made your desire burn hotter and hotter. He then traced the flower to your core, making you flinch.

“Sensitive or hungry?”

You groaned and sucked your lip into your mouth. He then traced the number eight across your sex. After he finished m

“I could watch your body react to this flower all night,” he uttered eyes never leaving the flower. Once his face dipped down and he found himself right back between your legs, eye level with your sex you reached for him.

“I want you.”

“And you’ll have me but not until I have you screaming my name, writhing and dripping begging for me.”

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead, he buried his face between your legs and feasted as none had feasted before. Your moans spilled from you one after the other at varying decibels. You didn’t care how loud you were being. Normally you got a little self-conscious when you expressed your pleasure. You never felt one hundred percent comfortable with any of your exes or partners and it wasn’t due to any fault of theirs. It just was how it happened. With Chris, right now, you wanted him to know just how good he was making you feel, how much you wanted him.

The flower he held never left your body and somehow, he managed to ravage your clit and folds while circling your breasts and nipples with the flower. Just when you thought you were going to come apart and shoot into the night sky above, he bit your inner thigh while pinching one of your nipples.

“Fuuuck!”

With that, you came again, and again, he slurped every single drop like it was the most precious commodity.

Chris then rose and stood in front of you. His pants were open showing off just a smidge of the snug-fitting black boxer briefs he wore. You gave him your full attention as he removed the remainder of his clothes. As the pants dropped, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip still picturing what he had hidden behind those things.

“The way you’re looking at me is only making this harder; harder being the operative word,” Chris said.

Your eyes dropped to the prominent bulge at the juncture of his thighs. Your tongue snaked out to slide across your lips anxious for him. Chris groaned then tore the underwear off revealing all of him to your eager eyes.

“Wow,” you marveled.

He didn’t move, he stood there allowing you time to take him in, and take him in you did. He was buff, but not in an overly done way, in an everyday guy who was active in his life way. The tattoos on his skin only added to his sex appeal.

“Like what you see?”

You smirked and dropped your thighs back to the mattress and just as expected his eyes fell to just where you wanted his full attention.

“I bet I’d like what I feel even more.”

Chris chuckled, shook his head then stalked toward you. With ease, he nestled himself between your open and welcoming legs and bit your nipple before lowering the weight of his body on you.

“I felt you liked to tease, but I see teasing is just the tip of the iceberg, huh?”

You felt the thick, heavy mass pressing against your sex and you could barely hold yourself back from bucking up against him. His groan was rich, and it sent such a thrill through you. You couldn’t believe you had this strong an impact on someone and that he was freely letting you see it. It’s like he wanted you to know that you had him wrapped around your finger.

Chris softly kissed you once, then twice. Each kiss gave you a glimpse at something deeper, something tender, and sweet. He could be a seducer but that wasn’t all that he was. You rolled onto him again and kissed a trail down his sculpted frame taking care to kiss all the parts of him that tempted you. You kissed each nipple, raking your nails through the dusting of hair on his chest, each defined ab, and his obliques where those mouthwatering indentations resided. At the touch of your lips on that part of him, you felt a heavy thwack against your chin. Glancing down, you saw the offender. Up close you took notice of the violent veins protruding along his shaft and the thick and swollen head that glistened with a long drop of his desire.

“Planning on drawing it?”

“I could if it would make you harder.”

Chris scoffed. “Honey, I don’t think I could be any harder right now.”

“Open for debate,” you replied before tipping your tongue out to lightly swirl around the bulbous head.

He groaned long and loud while arching his head back. The veins in his neck bulged showing you just how desperately he was trying to cling to control. You repeated the action a few more times before you sucked his tip into your mouth applying more than a little pressure.

“Christ!”

You moaned. He tasted like mint and something else—vanilla maybe. Whatever it was, you were sure it was a taste unique to him and a taste you found subtle enough to enjoy. Slowly, you dipped your mouth lower and lower taking half his thickness before you sucked up. His hiss and the slight miss of his hands as they aimed to the top of your head no doubt to hold you in place told you everything you needed to know. He was open. You licked from the base to his tip like he was your favorite flavor lollipop. Another groan was your reward.

“Do that again.”

You licked him again. “That?”

You knew that wasn’t what he meant. The muscles in his jaw jumped then his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“No,” he struggled out.

You smirked and dipped your mouth over him again this time taking him a little further until you felt he was close to the back of your mouth. Chris groaned and fastened his hands on your head keeping your head there trapped. You moaned on him and without warning, he brought your head lower so you took him deeper. With him nestled right where he could feel the vibrations most, you moaned again. His grip loosened as he pulled you off of him.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell. I swear ta gawd, you’re gonna make me cum right now.”

You could pick up an accent and it was the hottest thing you’d heard. He wasn’t the only one that was close to coming.

“Your mouth feels incredible.”

Feeling bold, you took him into the mouth he liked so much and showed him incredible was the beginning. By the time you were finished with him, you’d have him listing off every synonym of the word. As you pleased his flesh, every hiss, gasp, moan and groan became more and more desperate, more and more emphasized and the more he lost control, the more powerful you felt. That didn’t mean that giving him pleasure meant you felt none. You were so turned on it took everything in you to not drop your hand between your legs to inch yourself to the release he was creeping up on.

Quicker than lightning, he’d flipped you onto your back and pressed your thighs apart making enough room for his bulky body and stealing your breath in the process. The way he looked at you as if you were his prey and he the predator only made you want him more.

“Fuck,” you whispered out.

“If you insist.”

His lips pressed to yours and his tongue swirled with yours. The man was a kissing connoisseur and magician, and this was the way he cast his spells—this was the way he bewitched. When you felt the tip of his intrusion brush against your inner thigh you shook and immediately felt embarrassed. Chris’ smile was soft.

“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

He kissed you once, twice then a third, and on that third kiss, he joined your bodies in one slow, torturous, and impossibly delicious feeling thrust. Every inch he filled you with made your back arch and every arch pressed your breasts onto his hard chest. Chris tore his lips from yours first then buried his face into your neck and whimpered.

“Oh—you feel--.”

It was a sentence he never finished—not with words. Instead, he shuddered into your ear and let his body mirror it with a shiver. With him buried to the hilt, you felt impossibly full, but you still wanted more. Wrapping one leg behind him to rest at the crest of his ass, you lifted your hips to meet his next thrust. The movement was unexpected and his snapped to yours. With your eyes locked, you clenched around him and circled your hips.

“Fuck!”

Chris pressed one hand to the bed and brought the other to your throat, but no part of his grip hurt. It was the motivation he needed to speed his movements. With every connection, your breasts jerked, and every retreat your leg around him tightened as your muscles.

“Uuugh, you’re going to kill me gorgeous,” Chris croaked out with every thrust.

“Then return the favor. I think death by fuck would be a good way to go.”

His eyebrow crooked and you saw the moment something shifted within him. His jaw twitched and then with his next bruising thrust he clasped both your wrists in one of his hands and pressed them above your head. From then, his thrusts became rougher, harder and so damn wild. The pattern her set was one of chaos and your body responded to it. He kept you guessing, needing and whimpering until you were sure that the other tents nearby could hear just what was going on and you didn’t care. You hoped they were listening.

No matter how you tried to free your hands to touch him, it was no use. He held you right where you were taking everything he wanted while giving you just as much. Soon, the pit of your stomach tightened, and your legs trembled, you were close and the grin on his face said he knew it.

“I think death by multiple orgasms sounds like a better way to go.”

Chris thrusted forward hard then circled his hips sending you over the edge. You screeched and allowed your body to shake as it wished. You had no control over it, he did. You panted and bucked against him needing more and having too much all at once. When his thrusts continued, he’d released your hands and grabbed your thighs keeping them apart and you slightly elevated in both his strong arms. This new angle told you that you’d be crashing over the edge in seconds.

Sure enough, you came again and again with him showing no mercy nor giving you any reprieve. Instead, he changed the pattern again, slowing things down. The sudden change sent your body into hyperactivity and your hips bucked again. Chris groaned and moved his hands to your hips. He held on to you like he was riding a bucking bronco trying to control you. With a groan that sounded so close to a growl, he pulled out of you then flipped you onto your stomach and sheathed himself once again.

“Aaaah! Fuck, yes!”

The action was so quick your head spun but not for long. When you felt his hand at the back of your neck and the other coming down on your ass you lost your shit.

“Oh god—Chris.”

“Mmm. Still sound like a good way to go?”

He dropped his lips to your back and kissed a path along your spine until he reached your shoulder. Once there, he sank his teeth into your flesh. You dropped your head back and for the first time, you noticed that this particular part of the tent was see-through, and it gave you the perfect view of the stars. As another orgasm claimed you, you felt yourself transcending to touch those stars. Chris slowed his movements and brought his kisses to your jaw, then your lips. This kiss was different, it was languid, teasing, but filled with longing. It was a different longing than before; it was a longing for more time.

“You’re perfect, Cali,” Chris mumbled on your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

Your belly fluttered. Mustering all your energy, you pulled from him, then pushed him onto his back. He stretched his arms behind his head with a wide smile as if he couldn’t wait for the show. You stood on the bed giving him a full view of your body then stood over him legs wide enough that he could see just what was in store for him. As he licked his bottom lip you saw a spark of worry in his eyes.

“Scared?”

Smirking he stretched his body and groaned. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know. I could do whatever I want to you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

His cockiness was too damn attractive, and you couldn’t believe you liked it. Scoffing, you lowered yourself over him. His eyes dropped between your legs and watched with bated breath. He looked like he was mumbling an incantation in his head drawing your body to his. Just before you sank onto him, you stopped hovering just out of reach. Chris groaned then cracked his neck.

“Are you afraid?”

“Not at all.”

“Then sink that gorgeous, deliciously tight pussy on this cock.”

“No please?”

He smirked.

“Oh, so you want me to beg.”

“Are you above it?”

Chris brought one hand to his mouth, licked his thumb then brought it to your clit. The first stroke was feather-lite.

“Mmm.”

“Are you?” He dipped his thumb lower swiping your slit coating his finger before bringing it back to swirl around your bud. You moaned again but made a silent vow to not give in.

“Try as you will, I guarantee you will not hear me beg for anything.”

“No?”

For emphasis he gently pinched your clit sending a sharp electric charge through you and right back to your sex. Unconsciously, you dipped lower, your folds brushing the tip of his cock. You both groaned at the same time, both bucked your hips together, but you were the one to rise back up.

“Stubborn huh.”

“More than you know. However, I would have mercy on you if you said the magic words.”

“What words may they be?”

His finger was now going back and forth and round and round in a synchronized show of skill. It was becoming harder and harder to resist. You wanted him to fill you as much as he wanted to be nestled in your heat.

“Please—take this—dick.”

Again, your body dipped lower and brushed his tip. This time you didn’t lift up, instead, you rocked your body back and forth like a wave coating his bulging appendage. With each swipe of your sex, Chris softly grunted and subtly lifted his hips. You didn’t know if it was an involuntary movement or if this was a ploy.

“God, you’re so wet for me, Cali.”

“Mm-hm. Dripping.”

His finger sped and you knew you were close. You just hoped he gave in before your body betrayed you. Circling your hips, you took a few centimeters of him giving him the impression you were giving in but when his hand came to your waist you lifted up denying him the satisfaction. The groan he let out was one of frustration. You saw the veins in his neck protruding and wondered how much longer he could hold out.

“Still so tight,” he whispered.

“Do you want to stretch me out?”

He scoffed, smirked, and angled his head back.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Cali.”

The authority in his voice made you straighten your spine. He sounded like he often gave orders, and you wanted him to command you.

“This dangerous game has consequences. Can you afford them?”

“Like?”

The pressure he applied to your pearl increased and you knew your face betrayed how much you liked it.

“Loss of voice, sore muscles, raw throat, inability to sit properly for a week or two, among others.”

“What about the consequences for you? Can you afford them?”

“Such as?”

“Inability to think of anything else but this tight, dripping pussy, hallucinations of seeing me everywhere you go but when it isn’t me wishing it were, daydreams that take you back to this night for months on months, frenzied wet dreams every single night, and the fate of inadequate self-pleasuring where it never is good enough because it is not my hand, my mouth, my tight delicious pussy. Your punishment for tonight will be a lifelong one. Can you afford the price of your pleasure?”

He looked at the end of his rope like he was about to release the beast any moment. His jaw ticked, throat bobbed, and breath shook.

“Cali—please—take this dick so I can fill you and stretch you so perfectly that weeks from now you will not be able to have another because you will only see my eyes.”

As the victor you dropped onto his cock, taking him fully into your body and loving every second of it. Chris grunted then gripped your hip. He didn’t move you though, he wanted you to take control. You instantly set the pace bucking against him with quick swipes. Chris sucked in a breath and watched you move, in complete awe. Rather than sticking to one pattern, you swirled around him before you began bouncing on his hardness.

“Fuck!”

He matched every move you made with an upward flick of his hips. Every time he did it, it threw you off until you’d stopped moving completely and allowed him to jackhammer up into your core.

“Fuck! Chris, yes, right there. Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me—cum with me.”

His thrusts became more and more aggressive and the sharp twinge of pain at your hip from his fingertips said you’d have a bruise to remember this night. It was a bruise you wouldn’t mind. Chris sprang up, held your hips more firmly, and rocked you against him as he fucked you. You could tell by the glazed look in his eyes that he’d lost control and was chasing the same thing you were—a release.

“Yes, Yes, God Cali.”

Your eyes locked and you felt the same longing he did. If only tonight wasn’t all you had. Before you knew it, you’d crescendoed over the edge pulling him with you. Both of you rode the wave of pleasure that kept producing sparks of fire and thrill straight through you making neither of you want to break apart. You kissed him allowing everything you were feeling to spill into him.

If tonight was all you had, then you would take it and press it to memory.

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

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

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

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caplover22 @kikimiyazaki @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @chris-butt @nervousninjatheorist @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @swinchestersgirl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @anandalambert @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @lovebittenbyevans @piscesgyalinit

@youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @amennariee @emilykjh @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @likesfairytales @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @thejemersoninferno @jennmurawski13 @mrsbarnes- rogers @maxcullen @shadyskit @itsallyscorner @someone-really-bored @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @productofchina @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @amelatonin @evansgirl7 @vintageembrace @maverickabull @almosttherebutnot @jd-now-jq @periodtcevans @est1887 @deadlymistress24 @thotti3par7on @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @nerdybitchpudding

@priya212 @sadishdelray @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @ljstraightnochaser @winterboobear11 @awaywithtime @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @renfrewscorner @euphoric05 @baby-iyania @041802 @marvelatthis30 @martinafigoli @spxcecxramxl @brownskinafro @ani808 @creolemami @queenwinchester2 @dragonballluver @kailyndavillier @thelilbutifulthings @problackasfwilson @miss-jackson500 @ibe-erynn @mizzzpink @thejeneralvicinity @siempremamita @theladybiers @literaturefeen @richonne4life @scifi-fantasist @tenaciousperfectionunknown

@disconectedswift @i-lie-here-charmed @bamakakechick @chuckbass-love @captainchrisstan @dragonballluver @buchanansebba @timotheessoleil @onetwo3000 @letsdothemonstermash @euh-say-what-now @dragonballluver @myakai13 @jillanaholland @queenwinchester2 @likesfairytales @kemkem101 @cessamjrmr @letsdothemonstermas @blackmissfrizzle @melanicia @badkittybang @queenwinchester27@chrisevansfanfic @jd-now-jq @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @mirmirmur @redhairedfeistynerd @nico-diangelo-grey @amazonian-strap-queen @imaslutforcaptainamerica @ibe-erynn @wintermoons @tstark-94 @shining---h somethin @cookinggurl43 @shar74nett @deadpixie22 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @smediumsmeatbae @letsdothemonstermash @almosttherebutnot @mauvecherie @blackgurlkillinit @madixii @guardian-tn @sohalia01@xoxloaveasre @lickmymelaninn @crist121 @jovanaprime @tashawar @rainbowkisses31 @live-laugh-love-ki @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison-00 @rynabarnesrogers-reading@danna-wana

@queenoftheworldisdead @reveviolet @pretendlifeisnormal @dragonballluver @southerngracela @fanfictionaffair @sullyosully @naturalthrone22 @kittykatlow @peggyslegion @readerforwocfics @almosttherebutnot @yourroyalthickness @beccacupcakesxo @rhyrhy462 @littlepreciousangel @queenshikongo3 @simply-heaven @chezdricks @mangos4u@toni9 @cltex84 @petty-bitch-akira @buchanansebba @cevans-fics @ukmkhan @littleheavensangel2 @niquemorris @pretendlifeisnormal @liquorlaughslove @derogatorylanguage @leopardandpink @chuckbass-love @sweetst24 @imaslutforcaptainamerica @offrostandstarlight @jillanaholland @musicallyinclinedthings

@ramp-it-up @october505 @k347 @liquorlaughslove @thotti3evans @reignandrain @shar74nett @littlebabexdebby @laricebabe @est1887 @songtoyou @disconnectedswift @msblkfire84 @bforbbgirl @acciolove724 @shipatheart @captainchrisstan @ramp-it-up @brownskinafro @jhayes6984 @badbo1-evans @ak329 @msblkfire84 @jovanaprime @poshgirl2 @marvelatthis30 @cleopatra-knowles @littlepreciousangel @youremysuperstar @alookintohersoul @xsweetdellzx @cxmfort @i-just-like-fanfics @storiestoldbyjazz @jennmurawski13 @imthewarmpenguininthemiddle @helenasmirkedno @labella420 @roseasweet @jovanaprime @6lackfiction @chezdricks @krrose3 @parkker-barrnes @lilac-tea-time @elisaboricua

@secretswiftymarvelfan @kaiya-ch4n @zeelmol @maeleeme @7soulstars @talley84 @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @kalesrebellion @msblkfire84 @queenshikongo3 @tantricevans @harrypotheadnerd @mrs-captain-evans @cevans-fics @pretendlifeisnormal @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fanfictionaffair @blackgurlkillinit @cessamjrmr @sarswilltakeyouout @basicchelsea @denisemarieangelina @keytodespair @dontbescaredtosingalong @kenequa @enthusiastic-french-toast @yinx1 @why-wait-4-eventually @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @deepintothenature @dillie60 @ivorylei @lolabelle757 @sophiaedits

@evans-sims @dontbescaredtosingalong @nunya7394 @ivorylei @deepintothenature @heroine-of-color

#starcrossed: hft fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #professor x college student #college fanfiction #black fanfiction #chris evans smut #starcrossed 1

226 notes · View notes

harmless--dreamer · 9 months

Text

Thinking about Cypher Valorant again.

So his card right. Redeemer's Folly. Let's look at it again, I'm going to over analyse this and this post is just brain salad I warn you.

Three doors. Three lights. Three shadows.

It makes sense that cypher's silhouette is center frame- he's the focus obviously. It Could just be that they wanted symmetry but the other player cards aren't symmetrical like that so I'm choosing to believe this is a Choice.

Cypher, Nora, their child. Lots of threes in here.

Talking about the door again. I said it looked like the door to a mosque but it's a specific place in Morocco - or at least looks like it (thanks Barrenreach for that info). Bab Bou Jeloud is the gate in question.

There are certainly similarities in terms of the shapes. It's like a main entrance to parts of the city.

So, if that Is what the gate in the card is then it could be reminiscent of him returning home? Going back to Morocco, back to his people. Not entirely sure on that one since I haven't thought about it as much.

Buttttttt I'm going to talk about the mosque idea anyway because I think it's interesting. Cypher isn't what I'd call the religious type. Prefacing this next part with the obligatory I am an Arab, not Moroccan but I am familiar with general Arabic culture (also not a Muslim, though I have Muslim family).

Cypher doesn't say things like wallahi or similar (at least not in game, I see you fanfiction writers using it and I approve). He doesn't strike me as someone who would be going to the mosque every day and praying (mainly because I think he is the type to get so absorbed in his work that he forgets what day and time it is and forgets to do things like Eat).

Still, if he was visiting a Mosque that'd raise questions. I know at least in my part of the world (Lebanon) we have plenty of people who are, for lack of a better term, culturally Muslim but aren't ""devout"'- which might be the same as Cypher but really who knows.

Anyway, off track. Why would he be visiting a mosque? Visiting a mosque For Redemption?

Well, Islam says that Allah will forgive those who forgive (in simple terms). I wouldn't call Cypher a forgiving person. He's not forgiven himself for whatever happened to his family, for one. He's not forgiving to Kingdom (can't blame him for that, fuck kingdom). Maybe he can't find that redemption, find that forgiveness, from Allah or himself, until he moves past what happened to him. Until Kingdom is dealt with along with everything else.

Bringing this back to the idea of him being his own worst enemy- he needs to shed the persona of Cypher before he can gain redemption. Cypher is the dark shadow in front of the light of doorway, the persona of Cypher is the dark shadow in the way of his redemption. Perhaps he needs to finish his business as Cypher before he can move forward, before he can be Amir and be redeemed, forgiven.

This,,, is a hot garbage pile of a post in terms of my brain just spitting words out without much thought but I again wanted to get my braincell to spin and I love Cypher so much.

#cypher valorant

39 notes · View notes

tafeekafee · 22 days

Text

⌛🐶🌹❤️Oh, love is something good for us to share

Sickie: Yunho (+ Dojoon & Jaehyeong)

Caretakers: Woosung & Hajoon (+ Hongjoong & Seonghwa)

Coachella was too hot. California was too hot. Yunho was too hot.

He had thought that filming the “Pirate King” and “Treasure” M/Vs in the Moroccan desert had been bad. But back then they had been able to take breaks in the shade, been able to drink between takes.

On the Coachella stage under the sweltering Californian sun in front of thousands of people no real breaks had been possible. Wherever they had stood there had been sun. It had been exhausting. Within the first fifteen minutes he had gotten a bad headache, constantly blinded by the light, and he started feeling dizzy and unwell. The muscle cramps had started shortly after.

Yunho had tried to drink between songs but he had gotten too nauseous too soon.

It wasn’t like it was his fault that he couldn’t deal with heat well.

He had been glad when their part was over (though he had loved seeing so many people be there for them) and they could get cooled down. So at the first opportunity once they were off-stage, Yunho had walked away from the group in search of a cooler place than their waiting area. The others had been too preoccupied with celebrating their successful stage and trying to deal with the heat as well. Poor Yeosang had looked downright sunburned, now matter how much sunscreen the stylists had put on him.

Yunho managed to stumble upon a bathroom, located at the far side of the artists’ area. To his surprise it was empty.

Even better: Everything was deliciously cooled by an A/C and seemed clean enough. Not caring if he was delirious or thinking about any germs, Yunho just laid down on the cold tiles, feeling them absorb his body heat instantly.

Wow, that felt good. His clothes were soaked in sweat but the freeze on his back was amazing.

He closed his eyes, his heavy eyes with the hazy vision, and tried to catch his breath. He would get up soon to find his group. He would be fine for a moment here, he just didn’t want to brave the heat again.

Yunho nearly dropped off to sleep when he was irritated by loud voices from outside the door.

“Leo, I told you that eating fast food was a bad idea”, somebody said in Korean. Yunho didn’t even have time to be confused about that - after all they were in an English-speaking country - then the door was pushed open and a few people came in.

Yunho seriously couldn’t care less. As long as they let him lie there, he was happy.

But then there was a surprised shout, a curse and somebody gently shook him.

“I’m good, it’s just hot”, Yunho slurred and blinked open his eyes.

As his vision cleared, he was taken aback.

“Woosung-sunbaenim?”he asked, confused, brain not quite catching up to his eyes. Of course he knew that The Rose sunbaenims were at Coachella too and they had hoped they would run into them. He just hadn’t expected that so soon. Mingi would be so jealous of him.

At the moment the only feeling he himself could muster was some form of shame - here he was laying on a hopefully not too dirty bathroom floor, exhausted to the core. It didn't make for a good first impression.

“Isn’t that ATEEZ’s Yunho?”, a different voice asked.

“Leo, get to that sink before you actually puke everywhere”, Woosung commanded, not looking away from Yunho. It was kinda weird holding eye contact with his sunbaenim, Yunho mused. But he could only blink. It was as if his body was mush. “Jeff, go with him. Dylan, come here, help me with him.”

What was up with his sunbaenims? Were they okay?

It was kind of a coincidence they had all ended up in the same bathroom in this huge area. Maybe they had looked for a more private area too? Yunho didn't actually care enough to ask. He just wanted his peace. Probably would not get that but so be it. At least he could brag to Mingi.

A second person knelt down by Yunho’s side. Ah, Hajoon-sunbaenim, their drummer. The older man looked really worried for some reason.

“Why are you here alone, Yunho-ssi? What happened? Where is your group?”, Woosung asked gently.

“Uh, I was too hot. It’s cool here, dunno where they are, sunbaenim”, Yunho mumbled. Maybe it should phase him that he didn’t know where his members were but he was so tired.

“No, stay awake”, Hajoon said, placing a hand against Yunho’s neck, “hyung, his pulse is really fast.”

"Yunho-ssi, what else do you feel?", Woosung-sunbaenim asked urgently.

"Head hurts, kinda nauseous, my muscles were cramping. I just wanted to be cool again, it's so hot." Yunho groaned. Couldn't they let him sleep?

“Heat exhaustion”, Woosung said grimly, addressing Hajoon probably, “if not heatstroke. They just performed under the sun, no wonder he isn’t feeling good. Do we have water and where the fuck is that electric fan?”

“We only have this left”, Hajoon answered and handed Woosung a half-full water bottle before jumping to his feet, “I’ll see if I can get more and find his group. Do we need a medic?”

“Yunho-ssi, do you have your phone?”, Woosung asked. Yunho just shrugged and let Woosung pat his pockets. The older man came up empty.

“Go get water and maybe ice first, Hajoon-ah. If you find a manager or whoever have them call ATEEZ. No, hey, Yunho-ssi, stay awake, please. You said you feel nauseous? Do you think you might need to be sick?”

“Maybe”, Yunho admitted shyly. He was really making a great first impression. Not.

“It’s okay, stuff happens. Don’t be embarrassed. Are you dizzy?”

“A bit.” Ah, to hell with impressions. He just wanted to close his eyes again.

“Can you sit up for me?”

Yunho shook his head a bit. Sitting up sounded like it would make his nausea and exhaustion worse. Why did his sunbaenim have to insist on this? He was happy enough alone on the floor.

“Jeff, help me sit him up, please. He needs to drink. Oh, you have the fan, gimme please.”

Suddenly everything swirled as he was propped upright and Yunho gagged dryly. Nothing came up, probably everything that was in his body had vaporized already. Did that make sense? Yunho wasn’t sure.

Somebody tapped his cheek and Yunho tried to swat at the annoying hands. At least the breeze on his face from the fan felt good and the cool of the wall on his back was welcome. “No, open your eyes, Yunho-ssi. Or I will call an ambulance.”

That had Yunho awake. He did not want to go to the hospital. And he really did not want to see Hongjoong-hyung’s sad, pouting, disappointed face if he ended up there. Or any of the others’, really. Besides, they were at Coachella - he wanted to enjoy it.

“Drink”, Woosung said with a bit of force in his voice, “slow sips, we don’t want you to get sick. But you need to hydrate a bit. I am a bit scared of delivering you into Hongjoong-ssi’s care like this. He might kill me.”

“Joong-hyung is a marshmallow. Or a minion or something”, Yunho complained but drank a few sips of the offered water. Woosung gave him a bright smile and stroked Yunho’s sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead.

“Can you hold the fan yourself? Here you go. I’m sure he is, just not when I return you looking like this. Hell, I nearly fought RM and Suga once when they brought a sick Jaehyeong to me and I didn’t know what happened.”

“Sounds like a story”, Yunho mumbled as he took the fan from Woosung’s hand and took another sip. The bottle was empty then and he pouted. Drinking had helped a bit to clear his surroundings and he finally was able to focus on something else than Woosung’s face which previously had been the only thing he had been able to see clearly.

“It was - should have seen his tiny ass trying to threaten a guy nearly a head taller than him”, somebody said and Yunho turned to look at who had spoken.

The man had his back to them, leaning over the sink, so Yunho couldn’t be quite sure. But considering their earlier conversation and that the other man by his side had blond hair (so Jaehyeong, their bassist and maknae who still was like five years older than Yunho), he assumed it was Dojoon, their keyboardist, vocalist and whichever other instruments that dude could play. Mingi was so enamored.

“Is he alright?”, Yunho asked worriedly. It was a bit curious to see his sunbaenims like that.

“Huh? Who? Leo? Yeah, that dumbass just thought that eating fast food before jumping around in the heat during sound check was a great idea, especially when I told him not to. Sometimes I am right, aren’t I, Leo?”, Woosung grumbled but he did look a bit concerned when he mustered his ill member.

“Fuck off, Sammy”, Dojoon replied, sounding very nauseated and ending his sentence with a harsh swallow. Uh-oh. “California, our worries make no sense”, he added in English. Why he suddenly switched languages Yunho wasn’t sure but he congratulated himself in understanding it. Maybe it was one of their songs? He'd have to ask Mingi. He was too tired to remember.

“That was not what I was going for with the lyrics. Like not even close”, Woosung complained, “and I told you multiple times that a large order of fries with a burger was a bad idea. I am from California, I know what I am talking about.” That at least answered the lyric question.

“Can we stop talking about food now?”, the third member, Jaehyeong, cut in, “besides: California, where people make freedom.”

He, too, didn’t look so good, Yunho thought. Well, that was a lie. His sunbaenims did always look good. He himself was probably looking pathetic though.

“You too?”, Woosung asked, exasperated, “Freedom to make dumb choices, I guess. I can’t go with you lot anywhere.”

“Stop picking on me, when I am not even there”, Hajoon complained from the doorway, holding a few bottles of water and an ice pack in his arms. That looked like a lifeline, pun intended.

“I wasn’t”, Woosung complained, but added a suspicious: “You didn’t overeat before practice, did you?”

“I’m not stupid”, Hajoon commented, earning himself a "fuck off" from Jaehyeong, at the same time that Dojoon apparently lost the fight against his stomach and raced to a bathroom stall. Disgusting sounds echoed through the bathroom and Yunho cringed. Hearing that did his own stomach no favor.

Woosung sighed and gestured at Yunho. “Joon-ah, you got him for a moment? I’ll check on … Joon-ah. Fuck your names.”

Hajoon rolled his eyes but he gave Yunho a kind smile as he knelt down by his side and pressed the ice to his neck. Oh, God, that felt good. Yunho moaned at the refreshing feeling, not even caring anymore how he was kind of embarrassing himself.

“Hi, Yunho-ssi”, Hajoon said, “can you try to drink a bit more? Oh, Jeff, you too.” He pushed one of the bottles to Jaehyeong, causing it to collide with the other man’s legs. Jaehyeong just groaned.

“Idiots, all of them”, Hajoon commented and grinned when he got Yunho to giggle a bit. “I wasn’t able to locate your members but do you know any of their phone numbers?”

Quickly Yunho gave him Mingi’s phone number - the only number of his members he knew by heart. Hajoon typed it into the keypad. Before he dialed he looked up and called: “Sammy, you know, you could have just asked him if he knew any of the phone numbers.”

“Sorry”, Yunho mumbled, feeling himself flush. He should have thought of that. If only his head didn’t hurt so badly.

“Wha…? Oh”, Woosung’s voice came, then a middle finger appeared under the stall.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything. Neither did you, Yunho-ssi, he’s just a grumbling old man”, Hajoon said with a laugh. He seemed happy to tease his hyung. Somehow he reminded Yunho of Jongho.

“Wait until you turn thirty, I will make so many jokes”, Woosung called, then went back to comforting an obviously still very nauseous Dojoon.

“You’re still over a year older than me, hyung”, Hajoon teased and winked at Yunho. Oh, teasing to make Yunho more comfortable with his sunbaenims. That was actually kind of nice.

“I’m going to call Mingi-ssi now”, Hajoon said and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello?”, Mingi’s deep voice filtered through the air. Yunho smiled a bit, he did want to be reunited with his members. Just somewhere cool.

“Hi, Mingi-yah”, Yunho whispered before Hajoon could say anything.

Mingi gasped and he sounded panicked when he answered: “Yunho? Yunho-yah? Where are you? We were so worried? Hyung, no, wait….”

“Yunho-yah?”, Seonghwa’s worried voice came instead. His overprotective eldest hyung must have snatched the phone from Mingi.

“Urgh, give that to me”, Hongjoong said, sounding further away and then louder: “Yunho, baby, where are you? Whose phone are you calling from?”

Yunho hid his face in his hand. His members were embarrassing - Seonghwa and Hongjoong actually acted like parents sometimes.

“Uh, mine,” Hajoon said, obviously suppressing a laugh, and introduced himself: “Hajoon from The Rose.”

Instantly the other side of the phone turned quiet. “Sunbaenim? What’s going on? Thank you for calling”, Hongjoong asked, trying to sound polite and not overly scared. He failed spectacularly at the last part.

“Yunho’s just not feeling so good”, Hajoon started to explain. It was very obvious at that moment that Hajoon was one of the younger members of The Rose - he had never learned how to deliver bad news and not make anybody’s leader panic.

Before he could get any further, however, he was interrupted. It would have been rude in any other situation but it was actually kind of sweet how worried Hongjoong got.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” There were probably a thousand bad scenarios running through the leader’s head at that phrasing.

Hajoon quickly gave a description of their whereabouts to Hongjoong who promised to be there as soon as possible and was about to hang up when Yunho mumbled: “Hyung, I really don’t need all of you to come. Take Seonghwa-hyung. Don’t bring Mingi.”

“Alright”, Hongjoong said softly, “hold on, baby, we’ll be there soon.” The call ended.

Hajoon had his eyebrow raised when Yunho looked at him. “Why don’t you want Mingi? Aren’t you like best friends?”, he asked curiously.

How did Hajoon know? It would be something an ATINY would know but that didn’t really make sense, did it? Urgh, thinking hurt.

“We are”, Yunho confirmed instead, “but he is totally a Black Rose. I doubt that he wants, uh, this to be his first real interaction.” He awkwardly gestured at Jaehyeong, who had sat down by the sinks and was slowly sipping on the bottle of water Hajoon had given him.

“Fair enough”, Hajoon agreed, grimacing. "Actually, thanks, I guess."

They looked up when the stall door opened and Dojoon and Woosung stumbled out. Dojoon was still very pale and Woosung had a stabilizing hand on the small of his back. But Dojoon was looking much better than earlier.

“How are you?”, Jaehyeong asked dejectedly when Woosung deposited Dojoon next to him. The older man just groaned but accepted the bottle of water their leader pressed into his hand.

"Thanks for asking, Jeff. Oh, me? Yes, I am feeling better too, thanks", Jaehyeong said rhetorically, a bit annoyed. He acted a bit like San when he was pouty. Weird.

"Be nice, kid", Dojoon replied, causing them to argue quietly.

Woosung ignored them and came to crouch down by Yunho’s side again. “Are you feeling better then? Or should I prepare to run from your leader?”, he asked teasingly.

“Uh, what?”, Hongjoong asked from the door. None of them had noticed him and Seonghwa entering. With all eyes on him after the rather not eloquent question he turned beet-red. “Sunbaenims”, he muttered and pulled at Seonghwa to make them bow.

“Don’t bow, Hongjoong-ssi, Seonghwa-ssi”, Woosung said with a smile.

It was Seonghwa’s turn to flush. “You know us, sunbaenim?”

“Of course”, Hajoon agreed, “Woosung-hyung is totally an ATINY. I think he has merch, actually. We all love your music. Also we tried to do the Bouncy challenge and I nearly ruined my ba… too soon?” He glanced at Woosung who just rolled his eyes.

“Yes, three weeks is too soon, brat”, Woosung replied, “also, may I remind you that you cried more than me that day?”

Hajoon seemed to choose to ignore the second part though he ducked his head a bit. The cough that he muffled with his hand sounded suspiciously like “grandfather” but Woosung just gave him a simultaneous warning and exasperated glance before focusing his attention on ATEEZ's eldest.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both seemed as taken aback as Yunho by Hajoon’s confession of being ATINY. It was not everyday that a sunbaenim who you adored adored you right back. Wow. While Hongjoong had turned a bit red again (maybe he just had sunburn though?) Seonghwa couldn’t quite hide his shock, evident by his wide eyes and open mouth.

"I'm glad you are here, Hongjoong-ssi, Seonghwa-ssi", Woosung said, pulling them out of their awe, "I think it's only a case of a bit of heat exhaustion but you should get Yunho-ssi checked out by a medic, just in case."

"Thank you, sunbaenim", Hongjoong replied, distractedly, and rushed over to Yunho now that the greetings were over. Well, to be fair, the only thing that probably had stopped him before had not actually been social conventions but rather confusion.

Hajoon scooted to the side to make space for him and ended up beside Yunho, also leaning against the wall. With his head pounding and eyes dropping, Yunho leaned sideways and rested his head on his shoulder. Maybe it was a bit inappropriate - after all they had known each other for less than an hour but he was tired. Hongjoong only looked worried and surprised but nobody said anything about it.

"Baby, we were so worried when we realized we didn't know where you were", Hongjoong mumbled, placing a cool hand tenderly against Yunho's cheek, "you can't just run off, especially if you don't feel well."

Yunho flushed a bit under the attention. All eyes were focused on him and it made his skin crawl. He had not wanted attention. That had been the first reason why he had run away. Apparently you couldn’t feel unwell anywhere in peace. Deep down though, he was glad.

"Didn't want to make you worry", he mumbled, staring down at his lap. Now that the excitement had died down again he felt like he was hit by a truck. And not an ice-cream one. "I was just a bit too hot."

"You never handled the heat well", Seonghwa sighed, taking Yunho's hand in his own, feeling the pulse in his wrist. “Remember filming Pirate King and Treasure?”

Hongjoong groaned. “Yeah, that was fun. Sorry, Yunho, we should have paid more attention. I hope he didn’t bother you, sunbaenims?”

If Yunho hadn’t been so comfy he would have been offended. Being a “bother” was Wooyoung's job. But he was content to just watch with half-lidded eyes.

“Not at all. He’s a delight”, Woosung replied, “and please, stop calling us ‘sunbaenim’. ‘Hyung’ or our names are fine, ‘sunbaenim’ makes us feel old. Hajoon, I am warning you.”

The drummer had opened his mouth to probably make another joke but decided he wanted to live another day. Yunho giggled a bit. Their dynamics were funny, he had to admit.

“Alright, thank you. Hyung”, Seonghwa said, “we don’t want to keep you here, surely you have other things to do?”

It was at that moment that he looked around and seemed to take in Dojoon’s and Jaehyeong’s complexions for the first time. He faltered for a moment then his face turned worried.

“Are you alright?”, he asked. God, he really was a mother sometimes. Even to people like four or five years his senior.

“Yeah, they will be fine. They are just regretting their decision to eat before jumping around in the heat. Turns out, what a surprise, it wasn’t a good idea”, Woosung explained before the two could defend themselves.

“You’ll hold that over our heads for the rest of our lives, won’t you?”, Jaehyeong whined, throwing his empty water bottle in Woosung’s general direction. He missed spectacularly.

“We had that particular problem before”, Hongjoong said pointedly, staring at Seonghwa.

“Oh, that’s what yesterday was about?”, Yunho asked. Seonghwa flushed and stuttered: “I … uhm, I’m sure the food was just out in the sun too long.”

“Yeah, sure”, Hongjoong deadpanned, “but you are right, we should get going. We already sent the kids back to the hotel. They fought hard to stay and are really worried about you, but we all deserve a night off. The only thing they can do at the moment is rest. But I fear Mingi may have paced a hole in the hotel’s carpet by now. Anyways, Yunho-yah, do you think you can stand? We’ll take you to the medics to get checked out and then how does a nap sound?”

“Heavenly”, Yunho mumbled, “hyung, I am so tired. My head hurts too. But I can stand.”

“Still nauseous?”, Hajoon asked gently. Shockingly, no. Yunho shook his head.

“Okay, that’s good”, Hongjoong agreed, “medical and then you can sleep.”

“Up you go”, Seonghwa said and with his and Hajoon’s help Yunho was standing. Well, leaning on his Seonghwa-hyung but he was on his feet. Hongjoong reached up and smoothed Yunho’s hair out of his face.

“Why do you have to be so tall, Yunho-yah?”, the captain asked fondly.

“You’re just tiny, hyung”, Yunho quipped, causing Seonghwa, Hajoon and Jaehyeong to laugh.

Hongjoong groaned. Woosung patted his back in a sympathetic gesture. “I feel you, Hongjoong-ah.”

They all burst into laughter again. Hongjoong and Woosung both had similar pouting expressions on their faces.

“Okay, let’s actually go”, Hongjoong said, shaking his head, and turned to Woosung and Hajoon, who had come to stand beside his leader, “thank you so much for your help, hyungs.” He bowed a bit.

“We’re happy we could help. Feel better soon, kiddo”, Woosung replied and turned to Yunho. To the dancer’s shock he actually hugged him. Oh, wow. Hajoon followed suit.

“Thank you”, Yunho mumbled and looked at Dojoon and Jaehyeong who were cuddled up together still, “I hope you two feel better soon as well.”

“Thank you”, they echoed. Jaehyeong waved and Dojoon added: “I’d hug you too but I think I’d puke again if I have to stand up.”

“Great, let’s get you idiots back to the hotel too”, Woosung mumbled and knelt down beside his two unwell members.

Yunho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong waved at them until they left the bathroom.

⌛🌹

A health check by a medic and an order to rest and drink plenty later, Seonghwa and Hongjoong led Yunho back to the hotel. He nearly fell asleep on Seonghwa’s shoulder in the elevator but was shaken awake by Hongjoong. He whined.

“You can sleep soon, you big baby”, Hongjoong said fondly, “just, you scared us today. Really scared us and I hate to think what would have happened if The Rose-hyungs hadn’t found you. We’ll talk about that another time but for now be prepared to have five anxious dongsaengs fuss over you.”

The captain unlocked the door and as soon as they entered the hotel room, Mingi practically assaulted Yunho with a tight, comforting hug.

“What happened? Yunho, why were you with The Rose-sunbaenims?”, Mingi asked, never letting go. Yunho was content to be just held.

“Well, the The Rose-hyungs found me, actually”, Yunho said and couldn’t help but brag: “Woosung-hyung called me a ‘delight’.”

Mingi’s shocked and envious face definitely was worth getting heat exhaustion.

But he would never dare admit that particular sentiment to his Hongjoong-hyung.

Yunho liked living.

Notes: Guys, I’m not from America and have never been to Coachella. I tried to research a bit but I couldn’t really find much about security and backstage areas for the artists. I doubt they will just walk around with the other people though, so a more comfortable and sanitary backstage area is what I imagine. Correct me if I am wrong and get me a ticket then:)

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much or more than I did writing this crossover!

#kpop #kpop sickfic #the rose #ateez #ateez sickfic #sickfic #sick ateez #kpop sick #sick the rose #emeto #ateez & the rose crossover #heat exhaustion #coachella #⌛🌹#⌛#🌹#🧚🏻‍♀️#❤️#🐶

12 notes · View notes