amaya

[thvmaya]

thvmaya’s rkive !

she/her. amaya. 17. black. basketball fan (lakers & spurs). bts girly. i write for anyone! victor wembanyama. peter parker. clark kent. etc. masterlist. inbox & requests are open <3 loves kdramas. into the sun & art of loving enthusiast.

© all works are written by me, thvmaya! please do not copy and post them as your own anywhere :)

[thvmaya]

THE PUPPY SERIES

pairings: mature!era michael x fem!reader

summary: au where you surprise michael with a golden retriever puppy from the shelter to help him get over his fear of dogs.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of being scared of dogs.

genre: fluff

amaya’s note: hi!! this is something new for me! i’ve never written a series before, but i want to try it now! this idea came to me when watching one of the home videos he made with elizabeth taylor on christmas. i know michael has had dogs before when he was a kid, so this is just for fictional purposes!

comment on this if you want to be a part of the tag list!

series masterlist:

| some parts have not been written yet, bear with me <3

part one: you introduce michael to the puppy

part two: …

part three: …

part four: …

[thvmaya]

would we want dating victor wembanyama head canons pt 2? 👀👀👀

[wharfz]

Spurs vs Thunder | May 18, 2026

[thvmaya]

what a fucking run. so proud of this team! LETS GOOO

[thvmaya]

this guy is going to the nba finals 🥹 AHHHHH

[thvmaya]

hi pretty can you please write headcanons for dating Victor? (fluff and some angst)

𑣲 bf!victor wembanyama headcanons

bf!victor wembanyama who kisses you in the hallway after a game, lips lingering a bit too long. you both would giggle between kisses whenever one of his teammates told you two to get a room.

bf!victor wembanyama who loves to share his favorite books with you. after he reads something that he enjoyed, you’re always the first person he wants to talk to about it. it could be one o’clock at night, and he would be talking your ear off about the book’s plot. you’d lazily nod, trying to keep your eyelids open, but you’d eventually get too tired to pretend and fall asleep. victor would look at you and blush, realizing he had rambled too much.

bf!victor wembanyama who hates saying goodbye when he has to travel for an away game. the night before, he would stay in your arms a little bit longer. when you’d tell him he has to go to bed or he’ll miss his flight in the morning, he’d just nuzzle deeper into your chest and murmur, “five more minutes.”

bf!victor wembanyama who takes your book recommendations very seriously. he would read your recommended books in the locker room before a game, saying it makes him feel closer to you when he’s away.

bf!victor wembanyama who has everything mega-sized. you quickly realize that dating victor means seeing normal-sized items in enormous size. like, shoes? you never knew shoes could be so big before victor. one day, when you guys were getting ready to head out, you watched victor slide his feet into a pair of his shoes, and you jokingly said, “vic, your shoes can literally house a family of three.”

bf!victor wembanyama who makes it his mission to teach you how to play sports. victor has always been athletically inclined. basketball, football, soccer—he was always trying to expand his athletic range and test the limits of what he’s capable of. naturally, being his girlfriend, he ropes you into that goal. if you say no, he’d look at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes and beg you to change your mind. to which, you do because who could resist those eyes?

bf!victor wembanyama who calls you after losing a big game. your heart would break hearing his pained voice as he’d blame himself and say that he let his team down.

bf!victor wembanyama who loves to teach you his native language. he would leave french sticky notes on the refrigerator with a new word every day. he’d smile brightly when you’d recite the words to him at the end of the week and reward you with a kiss. “you’ll be fluent in no time,” he’d encourage.

bf!victor wembanyama who loves to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. whether you’re in the kitchen cooking, reading a book, or in an elevator, his arms would be fastened around your waist. he claims that you fit perfectly in his arms.

bf!victor wembanyama who wants to show you the world. you want to go to Italy? say no more. he’d book a plane ticket faster than you could blink. done. first class. he’d say, “there’s no better way I can imagine spending my money.”

bf!victor wembanyama who takes pictures and records everything whenever you guys travel together. you’d find the focus he puts into recording the scenery adorable. the tiny phone in his colossal hand never failed to make you laugh.

bf!victor wembanyama who loves to celebrate his accomplishments with you. either after winning a game or finishing a long novel, he always felt better knowing you were there with him.

bf!victor wembanyama who sometimes misses your birthday and holidays because of away games. he’d feel terrible and always make it up to you when he could by taking you out to dinner or surprising you with a handmade gift.

bf!victor wembanyama who always shows you he's paying attention to you, especially in crowded areas. with his height, voices can get drowned out, so he would often lean his body down to hear you better. sometimes, his arm would hover over your waist and you’d get tongue-tied at how close he is. no matter how long you two have been dating, you’d always get flustered when he was close to you.

Amaya's note: I tried to include some angst, but there's not much in here </3. this is so bad, but I hope I did your request justice!

[thvmaya]

being a writer is so amazing because wdym i woke up and an idea randomly popped in my head so now I am spending the entire day writing about it?

[thvmaya]

I’m going to work on requests soon, i promise! my wips have grown a bit too out of control i fear … but, i will get to them! i love seeing them bc wdym you guys want more stories from ME? 🥹🩷💗💞💓😋🫠

[thvmaya]

𑣲 workin’ day and night

pairings: fem!reader x thriller!michael jackson

summary: you and bubbles just want to spend time with michael, but with him being a workaholic, things get a bit tricky.

warnings: none.

amaya’s note: the michael biopic has me spiraling back into my old mj era. It was such an amazing movie; you guys should all watch it! I based the descriptions of the studio and house on the michael movie. I have no clue how to write how a chimpanzee acts, so there will probably be some inaccuracies in that regard. If you want more mj fics, don't hesitate to send a request! :D

You stare blankly at the television screen, scenes and words blurring together. It’s Peter Pan, one of Michael’s favorites, yet it doesn't feel the same without him.

Michael has been recording his new album Thriller since last week, and, ever since then, you have been seeing less and less of him. He spends half of the day and night cooped up in his recording studio. The only time you get to see him is before bed, and even then, he can only respond with hums and nods because he exhausts his voice from singing all day.

Your heart tightens in your chest as Michael’s favorite scene comes on. A fond smile involuntarily tugs at your lips.

Beside you, you hear the soft tapping of feet grow louder and louder until Bubbles appears beside you. He uses his arms to push himself up on the couch next to you.

“Hi, Bubbles,” you say, pulling him into your lap with ease.

His arms come up to wrap around your neck. You frown as you take in his appearance. His fur looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days, and he is completely bare except for a diaper that clings loosely to his waist.

Michael insisted he be the one who groomed Bubbles, but by the looks of it, he hasn't done that in a while.

Seems like you aren’t the only one who is missing Michael's company.

"You miss him, don't you?" you ask Bubbles, gently stroking his fur. His lips form a soft pout as he trails one of his hands down to your necklace. It was a necklace Michael had given you shortly after you started dating. Diamond, with a silver chain.

“You look beautiful,” Michael said, clasping the diamond necklace around your neck. You both were standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom.

Your hands came up to touch the opulent stone. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never received a gift this extravagant. I-I don’t know what to say, Michael.”

Through the mirror, you could see his lips turn up. “You don’t have to say anything, baby. I just wanted to give you something to show you how much I love you.” Then he bent his upper body forward and kissed your shoulder. You grinned as his curls tickled your cheek.

Shaking away the memory, you bring your fingers over Bubbles’. "I know. I miss him too."

You turn your head to the left to look at the clock. 6:34 p.m. Almost another day without seeing Michael.

You purse your lips and glance back at Bubbles, who is now lying against your arm.

In that moment, you decide you aren’t going to wait around anymore.

“Bubbles, should we go see what Michael is doing?” He perks up at the mention of Michael, eyes widening and lips pointing upwards. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest quickening.

You laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on.”

Bubbles quickly wraps his arms around your neck, his weight comforting you as you stand up and walk to the front door.

After turning the front door’s knob and pushing it open, it does not take long to get from Michael's house to his studio, considering that it is in his backyard.

You tut your teeth at the "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging from the door.

Screw that.

You twist the knob and open the door.

The studio is lit by soft lamplight and a dim overhead light. The room looks like the inside of a mad scientist's head, with notebooks and Post-it notes everywhere, books stacked on the floor, and records lining every wall.

Right in the middle of it is Michael. He didn’t notice you yet as he listened to one of his tracks through his headphones, moving his body to the rhythm. After listening, he jots down something in his notebook. You notice that his movements are slower than usual and his eyes lack their usual spark, appearing more dull and glazed.

You feel something drop in your stomach at the sight.

You start to make your way over to him, but you don’t make it far before Bubbles starts squirming in your arms. He was desperately reaching for Michael, clawing at your face and arms to be free.

"Okay, okay," you quickly place Bubbles down. He wastes no time and sprints towards Michael's lap.

At the feeling of a hand wrapping around his calf, Michael pauses the track he’s listening to and takes off his headphones. He looks down to see Bubbles. He beams and picks up the chimpanzee, wrapping his arms around him.

Your heart warms at the sight of them.

He looks behind Bubbles and spots you. “Hey, baby. What are you guys doing here?" He giggles as Bubbles brings his finger up to Michael’s cheek.

"We wanted to see you. You've been here almost all day, you know." Michael pats the seat next to him, signaling for you to join him.

You walk over to the seat and sit down. You glance at the knobs and buttons on the mixing console. They were all in different positions. It looks so foreign to you, but they’re what Michael has been spending most of his days with. You frown at the thought that these buttons have felt Michael’s touch more than you have lately.

"I know, it's just, I have all these ideas in my head, y'know? I gotta get them out while they're fresh."

Bubbles snuggles into Michael's chest, letting out soft groans. Michael smiles and scratches the spot behind Bubbles’ ear that always makes him tingle. Bubbles lets out a soft, happy moan at the sensation.

You stare at them in disbelief.

“Uhm, excuse me? Where is my warm embrace?”

Michael looks over at you and lets out a giggle.

“Is someone jealous?” he jokes, ripping away a pen from Bubbles that he took from the mixing console.

“Yes,” you admit in a soft tone. “I’ve missed you.”

Michael’s face drops as he takes in your serious tone. He rubs the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby. This track I’m working on has really taken all my attention. I just.. I want it to be perfect,” he says as his eyes gaze down at the notebook he had been writing lyrics in.

You scoot your chair closer to his and place your hand on his cheek. “It will be. I know it. Nothing you make is anything less than perfect.”

His eyes flicker back to you, and something in his face softens at that, like what you said spoke to a part of himself that he’d been doubting.

Michael bites his lip and looks at Bubbles on his lap. He runs his fingers through his thick fur, then he gently pries the chimpanzee away from his body.

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?” Bubbles scrunches his nose and tightens his lip as Michael carefully places him on the studio floor.

Michael turns his attention back to you. “Say, how about I make it up to you?”

You quirk a brow. “Make it up to me? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

Michael smirks as the gaze in his eyes shifts to something darker.

“Like this.”

You barely have time to register what he said before his lips land on yours. The scent of vanilla floods your nostrils as Michael’s palm caresses your jaw. You lean into his touch.

You deepen the kiss. The room is so silent that you can hear Michael’s sharp intake of breath. Your fingers find solace in his hair, tugging gently at the curly brown strands.

Your heart feels like it is trying to stage an escape from the clutches of your ribcage. The soft feel of his lips, the warmth of his body, and the wetness of his tongue embracing yours is electrifying.

Michael’s hands come around your waist, and, without a word, he lifts you into his lap. You gasp at the sudden movement.

He breaks the kiss and sheepishly looks at you. “I-is this okay?” he asks, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. His usual nervous demeanor takes over his previous confident one. You and Michael’s relationship is still fairly new, so he doesn’t want to accidentally push your boundaries.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you confirm, hoping he doesn’t notice the nervousness in your voice at the warmth of his thighs.

He smiles and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “God, you’re so gorgeous. Can’t believe I get to have you all to myself. How’d I get so lucky?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you blush. “I would consider myself to be the lucky one. Have you seen yourself?”

Michael shakes his head and glances down to where your hand is on his stomach. “I’m really not all that…”

You scoff and lift up his chin with your index finger. “I think I, as well as a million other women, disagree with that statement.”

Michael lets out a chuckle.

You lean your forehead on his, and it’s silent for a while—just you and him and the rhythm of your steady heartbeats. Michael brushes his nose up against yours as you feel the heat of his breath touch your face.

The intimate atmosphere is interrupted by a succession of loud bangs.

You and Michael jump as you turn your heads towards the source of the noises.

Glass shards from the standing lamp are scattered across the ground. A stool that holds Michael’s index cards with potential lyrics is knocked over. Next to it all is Bubbles, who is reaching for one of the index cards in curiosity.

“Bubbles!” You and Michael yell in unison.

Michael helps you lift your legs from his lap as you both go to the right corner of the room to stop Bubbles from stepping on a glass shard, or even worse, chewing up one of Michael’s lyrics.

Michael lunges for Bubbles, but Bubbles lets out a hoot and runs in the opposite direction.

“I’m not going to stand here and chase you. Come here, Bubbles. Now,” Michael commands.

Bubbles stops next to you, and you decide to take the opportunity and reach for the card in his hand. Terrible mistake.

Bubbles swats away your hand and traps the card between his teeth. He then turns and charges on his knuckles to the remaining empty corner of the room.

Your jaw drops as the top of your hand starts to turn red. “Did he just hit me?!”

You look at Michael, who is holding back a laugh.

“Maybe you scared him. He is prone to attack if he’s scared,” Michael reasons.

You sigh and shake your head. “Okay, fine. Let’s just stop him before he can cause any more trouble, mkay?”

Michael nods. You both glance at Bubbles, who is sitting with the index card now in his hand. You faintly see something that says “mama se” on the back of it.

You look back at Michael, who is already looking at you. An unspoken plan passes between you two, and you both nod.

In a few seconds, you and Michael are on each side of Bubbles, effectively cornering him.

“Aha! We did it!” Michael rejoices.

Bubbles looks up at both of you and scratches his head. Michael lets out a soft chuckle. “Come here, Bubbles.”

Michael bends down and hooks his palms under Bubbles’ arms.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” Michael says, pointing to the card in Bubbles’ grasp.

Bubbles looks between the card and Michael’s face and pieces together what he is referring to. Slowly, Bubbles lays the card in Michael’s palm.

“Good boy.”

You walk over and stroke Bubbles’ fur, the top of your hand still stinging. “And if you ever hit me again, no more sweet potatoes for a week.”

The chimp’s eyes widen. He looks at Michael for backup.

“Don’t look at me,” Michael laughs.

Bubbles frowns and curls into Michael’s shoulder. One of Michael’s hands comes up to rub his fur. You step closer to them as Michael’s other hand reaches out towards yours, interlacing them. You lean your body on his shoulder.

The lamp above the mixing console casts a shadow over the three of you as silence overcomes the room.

A minute passes before you break the silence. “It’s almost time for bed, Michael.”

Michael sighs. “I know, I know. I’ll be in soon. I promise.” He looks down at Bubbles as he speaks, avoiding looking you in the eye.

You bite your lip, not believing him.

“Okay, but if I don’t see you in five minutes, I’m bringing Bubbles back in here and letting him eat every card he sees.” As if on cue, Bubbles excitedly squirms in his arm at the word cards.

Michael smiles, tightening his hold on Bubbles. “Goodnight, Bubbles.” He plants a kiss atop the chimp’s furry head.

“Aren’t you missing someone?” You tap your feet. Michael locks eyes with you and giggles at your tactics.

His fingers come under your chin as he tilts your head back. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he says and kisses you on the lips.

Ten minutes later, and Michael still has not left the studio.

You look over at Bubbles and ask, “Are you hungry for some cards?”

His jaw opens, and he lets out excited hoots, moving uncontrollably.

You grin.

[thvmaya]

spurs won by double digits tonight just as i had prophesied.

[thvmaya]

— teaching victor wembanyama how to sew headcanons

victor wembanyama who struggles to find modern clothing that accommodates his body proportions. he looks at you one day with the most pitiful eyes after his arms ripped the seam in one of his favorite jackets. you decide enough is enough and say, “that’s it. i’m teaching you how to sew.”

victor wembanyama who looks utterly comical sitting at your sewing desk with his knees up to his chest and his head hitting your overhead lamp. he rearranges his body every few seconds to try to make himself smaller, but he just ends up looking like a folded-up lawn chair. taking notice of his discomfort, you offer to move to the kitchen table.

victor wembanyama who struggles to thread the sewing machine due to his large hands. when he tries to use the needle threader to get the top thread through the sewing machine’s needle, he breaks it. huffing in frustration, he snaps, “how does anyone even do this?”

victor wembanyama whose foot is three times bigger than the pressure foot, which causes him to inadvertently apply too much pressure. The sewing machine zooms through the fabric as you yell at him to release his foot. victor looks at the fabric and says, "this is why I have my own tailor."

victor wembanyama who hunches over the kitchen table to rip out seams in the fabric he sewed right side out. you chuckle at how absurd he looks, being 7'4, hunching over your kitchen table with intense focus, and ripping out seams with a tiny seam ripper.

victor wembanyama who, bless his heart, is even worse at sewing by hand than sewing by machine. he forgets to knot the thread around the needle before inserting it in the fabric, rendering his entire row of stitches completely useless. he also loses needles constantly, leaving you two to frantically drop to the ground to look for them so you don’t accidentally step on them later.

victor wembanyama who, despite all the challenges, eventually gets it. after days of breaking threads and jamming the machine, he learns the right pressure to apply when sewing corners versus straight lines. he perfectly hems a pair of jeans one day and excitedly shows you, beaming with pride.

victor wembanyama who has improved so much that you come home one day to find him at the sewing machine making himself a shirt that ends up fitting him perfectly. he decides to wear it going into the Spurs' next game, making sure to let anyone who asks know that he made it

amaya’s note: as a person who sews, this was so fun to imagine, LOL. I was watching game 2 and just imagined how chaotic it would be for victor to sew.

[thvmaya]

𑣲 thvmaya’s masterlist

★-fluff ♡-angst.

— victor wembanyama

★ & ♡ scars

★ basketball practice

★ teaching victor how to sew hcs

★ & ♡ bf victor wembanyama hcs

— michael jackson

★ workin’ day and night

★ & ♡ puppy series

[thvmaya]

more about wembyyy!♡

𑣲 basketball practice

pairings: fem!reader x victor wembanyama

summary: victor teaches you how to shoot a basketball.

amaya’s note: ask and you shall receive. again, thank you all for showing my first fic so much love <3. I feel so honored. game 1 was amazing! I was so stressed at first because what do you mean we went into OT twice? wemby hitting that deep three made my night. game 2 today and it is my birthday?! I couldn’t imagine a better gift.

The sun’s warm rays heat up the basketball court as trees nearby dance in the chill summer breeze. The loud thud of the Spalding basketball hitting the pavement slices through the quiet morning air.

A few nights ago, you had jokingly asked Victor to teach you how to shoot a basketball. You both were on his couch at his place watching a recap of his previous game, and a particular shot of his caught your attention.

Your eyes widened, and you turned to face Victor. “Vic, how did you get so good at shooting?”

Victor tore his gaze away from the TV, shifting his weight on the couch to look at you. “I practiced every day. It took time and discipline, but I got there.”

A moment passed.

“Can you teach me?”

Those four words are why you find yourself standing on top of the white-coated foul line at eight a.m. on a Saturday. Victor slowly comes up behind you, his height shielding you from the sun. You bite the inside of your cheek at the feel of his body pressed up against you.

“The key to scoring here is to not use too much force. If you use too much, the ball is going to hit the rim.” You nod, trying to ignore the heat of his breath caressing your neck.

“Bring the ball close to your core. Bend your knees, then lift your body and arms up. Now shoot.” Victor’s hand clouds yours over the ball as he guides you through each of his instructions. His hands make the ball feel smaller. As he guides your arms up, his chest presses deeper into your back.

“You got it?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

Victor leans his head down from behind you, his soft curls tickling your temple, and places a kiss against your cheek. “Now try it for me.”

He backs up to give you some space. The warmth of his lips lingers on your cheek, making your chest rise and fall faster than normal. You stare blankly at the basketball goal in front of you. It was just a kiss on the cheek, but your head is spinning so fast you can barely remember why you're even out here.

The sound of Victor’s voice shakes you from your stupor. “You ready?”

“Mhm,” you barely manage to say, shifting your focus to the weight of the ball and how the ridges feel in your palm.

You dribble once. Twice. Then repeat what you could remember from Victor’s previous instructions.

You lower your knees, raise the ball up, and release it with a flick of your wrists. The ball slices through the air and lands with a harsh thud on the rim.

The sound scares away nearby birds. You wince.

Victor catches the rebound and walks over to you.

“Nice try, mon chéri. I have missed countless shots. It's a part of the learning process. Do you want to try again?" Victor asks, looking down at you with warm, reassuring eyes.

You nod.

Victor smiles, handing you the ball. "Okay. Make sure to put your knees into it.”

“I am putting my knees into it,” you bite back, dribbling the ball once, then getting into proper shooting form.

“Good. Now raise your arms and shoot. Flick your wrist when letting go—and jump if you need to.”

Taking in all of the information, you let the ball fly from your hands, jumping a bit to help with acceleration. The ball soars through the sky like a rainbow’s arch. Your heart skips a beat in anticipation.

The ball meets the net with a clean swish.

You hear Victor let out a loud cheer beside you. You take a step back, letting out a breath of disbelief. “D-did you see that?! I did it!”

You turn to Victor, who has a wide smile stretched across his face, displaying his dimples.

“Yeah, I did! See, I knew you could do it. Next time, I’ll teach you how to shoot from behind the three-point line.” Your eyebrows shot up.

Victor chuckled at the face you made. “I’m kidding—maybe…”

“Maybe?!”

Victor grins. He walks closer to you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You look up at him, warmth forming inside you at the softness in his gaze. “I’m proud of you.”

Your lips turn up. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you show me?” You hold your chin up, signaling for a kiss. Victor shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh. You hear him mutter something under his breath before he plants his lips on yours, closing the distance between you two.

Your hands find the back of his head, playing with the short curly strands. His lips are soft against yours as he kisses you slowly, letting his hands trail down the curve of your body. You lean into his touch, feeling a fire ignite beneath your skin.

Wemby tilts his head a bit, deepening the kiss. You exhale a breath at the new angle. Victor absorbs the sigh as he presses another kiss against your mouth. The kiss started off gently, but quickly became desperate, like he couldn't get enough of you. The shift sent a shiver down your spine.

Eventually, Victor slows the pace, his kisses becoming shorter and shorter. He brushes his lips against yours and stays there for a while, as if he can't bring himself to pull away entirely. The desperation fades, leaving only a quiet need to stay close to you. You open your eyes to Victor’s. His gaze is heavy with longing and vulnerability, and he lets out a breathless, flushed laugh.

A mischievous smile spreads across your face. “Does this mean I can join the Spurs now?”

[thvmaya]

game 1 tonight oh i’m so ready

[thvmaya]

what. a. game.

[thvmaya]

thank you guys for showing my first fic so much love! <333 more wemby fics are in the works 🩷

[thvmaya]

game 1 tonight oh i’m so ready

[thvmaya]

𑣲 scars

pairings: fem!reader x victor wembanyama

summary: you kiss victor’s scars and show him softness.

warnings: mentions and descriptions of scars.

amaya’s note: this is my first post! I've been debating about publishing some of my writings on here for a while now. well, here it is! constructive criticism is welcome, and I hope you enjoy :D

The warm light emanating from the lamp on top of the nightstand made Victor’s body look softer—delicate, even. The sun had set, leaving only the stars and the moon as witnesses to this intimate moment. You and Victor sat across from each other on the bed.

You never doubted Victor’s toughness. You know what he is capable of and what his body can do. But, sitting across from him now and seeing countless scars decorate his arms, hands, and chest, you wonder if he has ever known gentleness.

On the court, everything is rough: hard fouls, shoves in the back, players' nails ripping skin, and elbows to chest. Since Victor has spent most of his life on the court, that is what he has grown accustomed to. He has never known anything different.

Except now.

His throat bobbed as he looked at you.

"Vic, it's okay, you don't have to be nervous. I'm not going to hurt you."

You saw his shoulders and back relax from their rigid position at your words. Progress.

"Mon amour, tell me why we're doing this," he pleaded with soft eyes. You had asked him to remove his shirt a few moments prior, without telling him why. You didn't want to scare him away.

“I want to show you that life doesn’t always have to be rough. It can be soft, slow, undemanding.” You scooted closer and tenderly touched his arm. He flinched a bit, not expecting the contact, but slowly settled again.

“Is this okay?” you asked, carefully not to startle him again.

He nodded, unable to speak.

You ran your fingers across a long scar that stretched from the top of his elbow to the bottom. It looked like a deep scar that never healed properly. The thought of someone hurting him badly enough to leave that behind made your throat tighten.

“How did this happen?”

Victor looked down to where your finger resided, brows furrowing.

"It happened on the court. I was reaching for a rebound, and when my elbow came down, I felt the nails from the player behind me tear a line through my flesh. It hurt pretty bad." His fingers traced his scar absentmindedly as he spoke.

You cautiously lifted his arm up to your face and looked at him for approval. His eyes met yours in a steady, unblinking gaze.

He nodded.

Slowly, you pressed a kiss against the scarred skin near his elbow, then another, following the jagged line down his arm.

You heard Victor let out a shaky breath at your actions.

"No one's ever done that..." he trailed off.

You looked up at him.

"Done what?"

His eyes flickered down to his scar. "That."

You realize that he is alluding to something deeper than the kiss.

That thought made your chest clench.

You let his arm down and nestled your palm against his cheek. "Yeah? Well, you better get used to it then."

Victor’s head leaned into your touch. You reverently traced his jawline with your thumb. Then, without warning, Victor leaned his head in for a kiss. A warmth spread through your body as you closed your eyes and crashed your lips against his, pouring in every ounce of love and adoration you have.

Victor’s warm palms came down to squeeze your waist. One thing you always admired about Victor was how he never made his giantness feel overwhelming for you. His arms, hands, feet, and overall body towered over you in any setting, but you never once felt threatened.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, resting your forehead against his. His heart rose and fell rapidly. You could feel his hot breath against your skin. You smiled a soft, telling smile that conveyed what words couldn’t in that moment. A smile that said he was loved and that you would always show him he is deserving of gentleness, no matter how rough the court gets.