#kyle dion

[1000-year-old-virgin]

Kyle Dion - No Gravity

[sexygaywizard]

My favorite artist coming out as bisexual yesssss king I knew you were too cool and sexy to be straight

[artistfriends-co]

#KyleDion backstage #JazzCafe in London 3/7/24 shot by #JoélVerges

#ARTISTFRIENDS

[groovetrill]

Sit yo' ass on me

Want you close, you've been gone for a little

I've been bad, thinking

If you left I'd regret not telling you

Love's just a word you say

Who knows love anyway?

So you don't go away

I say "I love," I say "I love"

Just a word you say

Who knows love anyway?

So you don't go away

I say "I love," I say "I love"

Oh, I play too much

Anything to make you stay

You know I play too much

So I say it anyway

[madeinthisuniverse]

[rizzy-thinks]

On repeat.

[lyrics365]

XYXY

[Verse 1] I mistake you for a love, you’re somethin’ new I never tried, XY, XY Every kiss and every hug felt different from the other side, XY, XY I’m happy you helped me find a part of me, another life, XY, XY My heart is for anybody, every body, shape and size, XY (XY), XY [Chorus] In a way, it’s all the same In a way, we’re the same [Post-Chorus] All, all the same All, all the same [Verse…

[musiceum]

[idontmindifuforgetme]

It’s a sunny day during winter… I am going to study outdoors at the library for hours I am going to devour the material I am going to hit the gym in the cutest fit w all my flash cards I am going to burgeon thrive flourish

[artistfriends-co]

Duckwrth, Kyle Dion, Umi, Willow Lollapalooza backstage and with crowd / 2022 photographed by Joél Verges

[sexygaywizard]

25!

funky bangerrr 🔥🔥🔥 Duckwrth underrated as hell

[rovermcfly]

Rita Smith, Anna Brown, Mollie Burkhart and Minnie Smith (all née Kyle), date unknown

Janae Collins, Cara Jade Myers, Lily Gladstone and Jillian Dion in Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)

[blank-potato]

Play Too Much

Pairing: Ivan "Vanya" Zakharov x Reader

Summary:

Feeling your job is done, you move to leave, but just as you turn, a hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Stay,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. His arms wrap around you without warning, pulling you onto the bed with him. You let out a surprised gasp as you tumble down, landing on top of him. He buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply. Or You're taking care of him when he's drunk, and he tells you what you've been wanting to hear.

A/N: He's not really toxic in this fic, he's cutesy 'first half of the movie' Vanya not 'second half of the movie' Vanya. Also title from Play Too Much by Duckwrth, Kyle Dion, and UMI because it's a vibe

ᯓ★ᯓ★ᯓ★

“We can't stay here…”

“No mne udobno (But I’m comfortable),” Vanya whines back as he rests his head against your leg.

You were used to his rich boy antics by now. You had been his friend since the first time he came to America, and whenever he’d come back, he'd be sure to make a mess of your life. Taking you out to extravagant parties, dragging you into exclusive clubs you had no business being in, and splurging on things neither of you needed just because he could.

And of course, drinking himself silly, leaving you to take care of him by keeping his hair out of his eyes when he was throwing up his guts, making sure he didn’t end up in some stranger’s bed, and, more often than not, half-carrying him back to his mansion while he slurred half-apologies in your ear.

And now Ivan Zakharov, son of one of the most powerful families in Russia, in all his glory,  was drunk on the floor of a private room in a strip club. You apologise profusely to the dancer as you drag him out of the club, his weight pressing heavily against you. He’s barely coherent, mumbling something about another round of drinks while you struggle to keep him upright.

Helping him lean on you, you half-carry, half-drag him toward your car, his feet stumbling over themselves. Manhandling him into your car and driving back to his mansion, you barely get a moment of peace.

The drive back is anything but peaceful. You all but die of embarrassment when he rolls down the window, sticking his head out like a dog, the wind whipping through his hair as he laughs loudly.

"Vanya, get back inside!" you snap, trying to keep one hand on the wheel and another ready to grab him if he tries anything crazy.

"Relax, just… have fun," he drawls, grinning lazily.

You kept your eye on him to make sure he didn’t fly out the window or get himself into some other ridiculous trouble. The wind ruffled his hair as he leaned back, laughing without a care in the world, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but find him endearing.

His way of life—reckless, impulsive, and full of indulgence—was so different from yours. How he saw the world was almost childlike, simple in a way that made you jealous sometimes. His parents were always on his back about responsibility, about carrying the weight of his family's name, but he never seemed to care, or at least it didn’t show. 

You had to enjoy your time with him because you didn’t know how much you’d have left. Any day now, he’d be going back to Russia to join the family business, and who knew when, or if, he’d ever come back. So, for now, you let him pull you into his world of late-night adventures, overpriced alcohol, and reckless coke consumption, knowing it couldn’t last forever.

After many trials and tribulations, including almost falling down two sets of stairs with him, you finally managed to get him back to his room. You felt like you’d run a marathon, your muscles aching from practically dragging him along.

“You’re a terrible drunk,” you muttered, tossing his shoes off the bed.

“And you,” he slurred with a lazy grin, “are the best friend I’ve ever had.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but deep down, you knew you’d miss this. Making your way over to his closet, you sifted through his neatly folded clothes, searching for something comfortable for him to sleep in. Behind you, he was mumbling and groaning, half-drifting off but still making a show of his drunken suffering.

You make your way back over to him and pull him up to a sitting position, his expression blissed out and dazed. You suppose he got a good dance at the club, his shirt slightly rumpled, his hair a mess, and a lazy grin plastered across his face.

“You have fun?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He sighs dramatically, flopping against you and resting his forehead against your stomach. “Mmm… best night of my life.”

“Arms up,” you instructed, holding out a soft T-shirt. “You can’t sleep in these.”

With exaggerated effort, he lifted his arms, and you helped him out of his wrinkled button-down, sliding the fresh shirt over his head. As you adjusted the fabric, smoothing it down over his chest, you realised he was staring at you, an almost unnerving amount of eye contact for someone who was supposed to be half-asleep.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost serious.

He always did things like this—slurring out compliments, brushing your hair behind your ear, flirting with you like it was just second nature to him. And even though it had happened a million times before, it still made your heart flutter.

“Very kind of you, Vanya.”

You continue taking care of him with practiced ease, experience guiding your hands. Once he’s dressed in warm, comfortable pajamas, you set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand, making sure everything he might need is within reach.

Feeling your job is done, you move to leave, but just as you turn, a hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Stay,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.

His arms wrap around you without warning, pulling you onto the bed with him. You let out a surprised gasp as you tumble down, landing on top of him. He buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“Vanya, I shouldn’t–”

“Smells good,” he interrupts sleepily, his breath warm against your skin. You roll your eyes as he buries his face in your neck, like he was trying to disappear into you, like he belonged there. Then he says something that nearly makes your heart stop.

“I think… I love you.”

 He pulls back, his eyes alight with something dangerous, a glint that makes your heart race. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he meant it. You’d die if he did, simply keel over and die of happiness.

“You're drunk,” you chuckle, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse is already quickening.

“Ya tebya lyublyu (I love you),” he whispers, the words soft but no less impactful, like a secret only he could share with you.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands, pressing soft kisses all over your face. He nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. In the silence that follows, he looks at you, the cogs in his drunk mind turning slowly.

“Let’s make babies.”

“Vanya!” You smack his chest playfully, and he dramatically clutches the spot where you hit him.

“I joke… I’m joking… a little,” he adds with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling despite the alcohol.

“I do love you,” he murmurs, resting his head against your stomach, his cheek gently pressed against your skin, eyes soft as they look up at you. His fingers lightly trace the outline of your waist, the weight of his words lingering between you, earnest and vulnerable.

“That's just a word you say, Vanya.”

“Why not…” he pauses to hiccup, then shifts slightly, his eyes more serious, “Why don’t you believe me?” He says, correcting himself.

“Because if you do…it’ll hurt so much more when you leave.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

“Then I’ll never leave,” he replies simply, like it’s the easiest promise in the world to make. Like he’s not expected to return to a life waiting for him an ocean away. Like he truly believes he can stay.

You brush his hair with your fingers and really wonder whether he’ll even remember what he said in the morning, but for now, you choose to hold onto this moment, to believe that even if the words are fleeting, there might be some part of him that truly feels that way.

“Oh yeah? You’ll marry me?”

He nods, his smile a little lopsided but sincere, “I’ll get you the biggest ring in… the world.”

“The world?”

“The world.”

You laugh together, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room, and he pulls you closer, wrapping himself up in you like you were his favourite blanket. His words slowly fade into mumbles, and those mumbles turn to snores. Even if he’s just playing around and laughs it off in the morning, you can’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest. You know that even if he left tomorrow and you never saw him again, you’d still have this drunken night with him.

Masterlist

[lyrics365]

Soul Tied

[Intro] Ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah [Verse 1] Soul tied, you and me are soul tied In need of your co-sign to feel good More time doesn’t mean the whole time But I need me more time, me and you Gotta let you go so I can finally find myself And if I do again, I’ll let you in Don’t wait, don’t wait How did I let you get to know me? Don’t let nobody get to know me Somethin’ about you makes me feel…