cheoridoll

[cheoridoll]

precisamos de mais brasileiras, dominando o tumbrl

[cheoridoll]

Rockstar Girlfriend

pairing: harry styles x reader

notes: i was really looking forward to making a fic with harry, and here it is! <3

warning: nothing, just being cute?

playlist for the fic: spotify | as already mentioned, english is not my first language, any spelling mistakes or nonsensical words, I apologize.

Harry’s London apartment smelled like smoke and desperation. You walked in coughing, rubbing your stinging eyes—caked with hours of mascara—only to find your boyfriend standing in front of the stove, gripping a frying pan like it was a chemical weapon.

“So… was this supposed to be carbonara?” you asked, tugging your hair tie loose and letting your damp waves fall over your sweaty shoulders.

Harry spun around, the Kiss the Cook apron (a joke gift from you) now splattered beyond recognition. "Surprise!” — He flashed a hesitant grin.

“Wanted to welcome you with something romantic after the show, but uh… maybe overestimated my skills.”

You stepped closer, peering into the pot. The pasta looked like modern art — charred, congealed, and utterly tragic. “Very Gordon Ramsay,” you muttered, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

"Hey!” — He tugged your hip, pulling you flush against him. “I spent three hours on this. There’s love in that pasta.""

“There’s something in it, alright.”

Your fingers found his cheek, swiping at a smudge of sauce. Harry caught your wrist, pressing your palm to his lips.

"Sorry” — he murmured against your skin. “Just… you killed it onstage tonight. Wanted to do something special."

The roughness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You knew that look—half awe, half pure want. The same one he’d worn the first time he ever saw you play, years ago.

"Pizza?" you suggested, pulling back before the kiss could deepen.

"Already ordered." He lifted his phone, the delivery app glowing. "But we've got forty minutes..."

Harry grabbed the bottle of red wine and poured until your glass nearly overflowed.

"That's a glass or a bucket?" — you laughed.

"Your reward for surviving my cooking."

You sank into the couch, and he dragged your feet into his lap, thumbs digging into the arch of your left foot. A groan slipped out before you could stop it.

"Mmm... that should be illegal" — you sighed, head tipping back.

"Noted! birthday gift is a personal masseuse." — His fingers found the knot beneath your toes, pressing until your spine arched off the cushions. "Speaking of gifts... remember our first date?"

You rolled your eyes. "When I 'accidentally' threw my drink on you?"

"It was "water", and yes." — He took a swig straight from the bottle, wine darkening his lips. "You turned so red you matched your fucking dress."

"I hated you that night."

"Bullshit." He leaned in, close enough you could taste the tannins on his breath. "You gave me your number right after calling me a 'pop sellout' for ten minutes straight."

You kissed him then — slow, deliberate, letting the bitterness of the wine curl between your tongues. "Still think you're a sellout."

"Your sellout."

His hands slid up your calves, callouses catching on fishnets. You kicked him lightly with your free foot.

"The pizza's gonna get here."

"So?" His teeth grazed your ankle. "Let it get cold."

You twisted away, but he caught your wrist, dragging you halfway into his lap. The wineglass nearly toppled.

"You're impossible."

"You love it."

And god, you did. Even when he burned pasta. Even when he left guitar picks in every pocket of your leather jacket. Even now, with his mouth tracing the inside of your knee like he could map every secret you'd ever kept.

The doorbell rang.

Harry groaned against your thigh. "Fuck the pizza."

"Tempting." You shoved him back, grinning at the way his pupils swallowed the green. "But I'm starving. And you owe me for that... whatever that was in the kitchen."

He caught your hips as you stood, fingers hooking in your belt loops. "I'll make it up to you."

"Better be a damn good tip for the delivery guy, then."

His laugh followed you to the door — warm, familiar, and entirely, infuriatingly his.

"Third ring, Styles. The guy's gonna leave" you warned, peeling your lips from his with a wet smack.

Harry let out a dramatic groan, burying his face in your neck. "I hate you."

"Liar." You gave his ass a light smack before slipping away to answer the door.

The delivery guy looked exhausted - probably from waiting in the hallway while you two were practically fucking in the living room. You grabbed the pizzas (two, because Harry always overdid it) and handed him a twenty. "Thanks, man. Sorry about the wait."

When you returned, Harry had already turned on the TV and queued up some random movie - something with cliché romance, the kind he loved and you tolerated.

"Got the pepperoni for me?" you announced with a smirk.

He opened the box hastily, burning his fingers on the melted cheese. "Shit! Hot!"

You rolled your eyes but took his hand to inspect. "You okay?"

Harry looked at you with that dopey expression — half dazed, completely smitten. "I'm perfect."

You pushed him with your foot. "Stop being cheesy and eat your pizza."

He laughed, grabbing a slice and taking an exaggerated bite, cheese stretching. "Look how cool."

"You're five years old."

He offered the slice, and you bit the other end, your lips almost meeting in the middle.

The movie kept playing, but neither of you was paying attention. Harry had your foot in his lap again, drawing circles on your ankle while chewing. You leaned against the armrest, watching how the TV light illuminated his profile.

"What?" He noticed your stare.

"Nothing." You shrugged, smiling against your beer bottle. "Just thinking you really are an idiot."

"Your idiot." — He corrected, tossing a pepperoni at you.

It was ridiculous. It was perfect. It was exactly how it should be.

"Your idiot who knows exactly how you like your pizza" he countered, licking tomato sauce off his thumb with exaggerated flair. The movie's romantic soundtrack swelled dramatically as the on-screen couple kissed in the rain - the exact moment Harry chose to loudly crunch into another slice, ruining the mood entirely.

You threw a couch pillow at his face. "You're worse than the terrible dialogue in this movie."

"But you love me more than these shitty rom-coms" he shot back, catching the pillow and tucking it behind his head. His free hand found yours, fingers intertwining automatically like they'd done it a thousand times before. Because they had.

On screen, the female lead was dramatically running through an airport. Harry snorted. "Security would tackle her in two seconds."

"Shut up and watch your terrible movie" you muttered, but you were shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like fabric softener and that stupid expensive cologne he refused to stop wearing.

"Knew you'd cave" — he whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You always do."

The credits rolled over two empty pizza boxes and Harry's soft snoring. Somewhere around the third act, he'd passed out with his arms still loosely around you, his breathing deep and even against your back. You turned carefully, studying his face — all long lashes and slightly parted lips, looking younger in sleep.

You snuggled deeper against his chest listening to the steady rhythm of Harry's heartbeat beneath his soft t-shirt. Moonlight streamed through the half-open curtains, painting silver stripes across the wooden floor.

"Harry..." you whispered, poking his ribs lightly.

He mumbled something incoherent, pulling you closer in a sleepy embrace. "Mmm...five more minutes..."

"You're drooling on my shoulder" you complained, but made no move to pull away. If anything, your fingers began tracing slow circles on his palm, watching how even in sleep his hand instinctively laced with yours.

Outside, a car honked in the distance, followed by the faint sound of laughter drifting up from the street. London never truly slept, but here—in this moment, in this apartment littered with discarded clothes, haphazard stacks of books, and stray socks under the furniture — everything felt perfectly still.

Harry nuzzled deeper into your hair with a sleepy grunt. "Smell nice..."

"It's your shampoo" you laughed softly.

He didn’t answer, his breathing already slipping back into the slow, even rhythm of sleep. You glanced at the clock on the wall — 2:17 AM. You should sleep. You had rehearsal early tomorrow, and you knew Harry would be insufferable if he didn’t get at least six hours.

But for now, you just closed your eyes, letting his warmth and the familiar scent of home pull you under. Tomorrow would bring arguments over who left the faucet dripping, fights over the remote, and more burnt dinners. But it would also bring quiet shared breakfasts, hands hidden in coat pockets, and laughter that made your stomach ache.

It was all you needed.

[cheoridoll]

me practicing for hayden christensen

[cheoridoll]

can you write a fic about listening to music w robby keene??

playlist of love

pairing: robby keene x reader

notes: thank you for the request! :)

warning: nothing, just Robby being cute

playlist for the fic: spotify | sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.

words counted: 1.030

It was a late Sunday afternoon, the time when the sun was already setting, painting the sky orange and pink. I was lying on the couch, playing with my phone, when Robby arrived.

"Hi, honey," he said, throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Hi Robby, how was work?" He shrugged, throwing himself on the couch next to me. The way he always felt comfortable around me made me smile inside. It was like he felt like this was his place.

"I thought we could do something different today."

"Different like what?"

"Listening to music together." — He answered, a little shy.

I raised an eyebrow, curious. Robby wasn't one to suggest programs outside the standard "watching series until falling asleep".

At first I thought: "Really? Music? Since when has this been different?" But then I realized that the way he said it seemed more special than simply putting on a random playlist. His small gestures made me smile, and I realized how worth every second by his side was.

"Okay." — I answered, curious and giving a slight smile.

Robby jumped up, excited, and started rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a laptop and two headphones.

"I made a playlist." — He said with a smile.

Robby was the kind of guy who didn’t show his feelings very much. So the fact that he had created a playlist for us to listen to together was basically the equivalent of writing a love letter in our modern language. He plugged the headphones into the laptop, put one side in my ear and the other in his. We were very close, with the cable of the headphones a little short, which made me laugh. He pressed play, and the first song started. It was Yellow, by Coldplay.

“You know that’s a cliché, right?” — I joked.

He gave me a sideways smile, the one that always made me melt.

"Cliché, but true." — The way he said it made me go quiet. There was something in the tone of his voice that said more than the words. We sat in silence, listening to the music. I knew he was trying to say something without speaking, and I think I understood. The next song started, and it was Home, by Gabrielle Aplin. I had never heard it before, but the lyrics caught me somehow. It was sweet, welcoming, as if the song had been made for that specific moment.

"This is beautiful" — I commented, a little embarrassed to say it.

"I thought of you when I heard it." — He replied, fiddling with the earphone cord.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

The playlist kept going, and every song seemed handpicked. It had a bit of everything: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Billie Eilish. In the middle of a Harry Styles song, I turned to him.

"Okay, confess, you spent hours putting this together, didn’t you?"

He laughed, neither confirming nor denying it.

"Maybe" — he replied, with that little smirk that always got to me.

I realized the playlist was more than just music. It was like he was trying to show me pieces of himself that he didn’t know how to express otherwise. Every lyric, every melody, felt like it was saying something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

When You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash started playing, he finally broke the silence.

"I like spending time like this with you." — He said, staring straight ahead, as if he was afraid to look at me.

"Like this how?" — I asked, curious.

"Just... together. Without needing to say anything."

I smiled, even though he wasn’t looking. The truth was, I felt the same way. With Robby, there was no need for grand declarations or over-the-top gestures. It was in the silence, in the simple things, that we truly connected.

Midway through the playlist, I grabbed the laptop and opened my own Spotify.

"Now it’s my turn" – I announced, excited.

He made a face but gave in. I started with A Sky Full of Stars because I knew he had a soft spot for Coldplay. Then, I went through songs that reminded me of him: Sweater Weather, Electric Love, Falling.

"This one’s for you" – I said when Can’t Help Falling in Love began.

And for a second, I thought he was going to laugh, but he just smiled — that smile that made the whole world feel a little lighter.

I felt my face heat up. Robby had this knack for making me flustered with the simplest things.

When the last song ended, we were silent again. Not that awkward silence, but one that seemed to fill the space between us.

“That was a good idea, Robby,” — I finally said, taking off my headphones.

“That was right" — he replied, looking at me with that look that I knew was only mine. He leaned in to place a kiss on my lips, and for a moment I smiled between the kiss.

And so, on a random Sunday, with a playlist and two headphones, he managed to show me that sometimes the best conversations happen without any words.

[cheoridoll]

I honestly don't know which character I'm going to do a fanfic, so I NEED you to come up with some characters! :)

did I think of Rafe Cameron, Dylan O'Brien or Robby Keene again? maybe.

[cheoridoll]

YESSSS, how can you make a "villain" be so hot? 😭😭😭

that kwon guy is so fucking hot

[cheoridoll]

confessing —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: nothing, just something cute.

includes: robby confessing his love.

note: thinking of releasing a robby obscenity, perhaps?

words counted: 1.200

playlist for the fic: spotify | again, excuse the bad english! english isn't my first language :)

At the back of the dojo, Robby paced restlessly, his right hand stroking his chin in a visibly failed attempt to calm his nerves.

He was still wearing a kimono, with messy hair and bandages on his eyebrows. The black highlighted his muscles, which had been worked in the fight, while the yellow of the coat of arms highlighted his hair, which was as shiny as that of a certain princess when she sang.

"Damn, damn, damn" — he repeated to himself as he walked around. Across the mat.

Sam laughed at the whole situation, finding it adorable how his friend acted under the effects of love, even though she was in the same happy situation. She was clinging to Miguel, one of his current best friends, the same one who helped Robby choose the rings he would give to the girl he was going to declare his love to at the end of the day, since Diaz, having been raised only by his mother, had a certain notion of what girls liked.

The girl took classes at night, the only time allowed by the sensei, who said that they would be simple classes, below beginner level, because according to him, "the girls didn't have any aptitude". Pathetic.

The boys never denied having a certain hatred towards Kreese's idiotic and ill-thought-out speeches, always making a point of covering their ears, humming or even running to the bathroom when the oldest began his speeches.

"Relax, you idiot!" — Diaz threw one of the foam bricks in his direction, hitting Robby's already bruised face. "She already said she loved you."

"I know, I... Ah." — he turned his body and threw himself on the floor, looking at a random stain on the ceiling of the dojo. "She said she loved me and I ran away like a coward."

"You're afraid of women." — Sam said ironically, looking at Miguel.

The blond couldn't stop laughing, escaping a little from the nervousness that was consuming him internally, leaving aside the hands that seemed to crawl like slugs.

The clock rang. It was on time. The students began to enter the dojo, while Kreese rolled his eyes in boredom and contempt, leaving the place as fast as a sprinter, making way for the night teachers, Miguel and Robby.

"Okay girls, let's warm up first, walk in circles around the dojo, then run, alternating between slow and fast." — Diaz took the lead, seeing that his friend was busy drying the newbie still confused on how to put on her belt.

Adorable.

The whole class had been hectic, as the girls had blood in their eyes, and as recent professionals, they could say that not even the most experienced boys fought dirty like the girls. In a good way, perhaps.

"Hey!" — Robby ran, almost tripping over his own feet due to fatigue. "I need to, yeah..." — He cleared his throat, looking for the words he would use, the right words so that he wouldn't come out automatically and end up saying more than he should, more or less than he feels.

"Talking to you, seriously, I need to tell you something."

She laughed. Robby's world seemed to fall apart, not in a tragic way as it seemed. She laughed tenderly, gracefully like one of the beautiful flowers in the school garden, the ones Robby steals every morning, hoping to give them to his beloved, always giving up a second before. His world fell apart, fell apart when he realized that no words would be enough to show enough.

A tightness invaded his chest, leaving him desolate for a few seconds, to the point that the girl needed to call him, say his name several times, something that gave him a certain feeling of being in heaven next to an angel, due to such a melody.

"Sweet?" — There. That speech was the one that no longer allowed Robby to hold his tongue, no longer paying attention to automatic, he just spoke and spoke, as if tomorrow no longer existed.

"I love you. And, and it hurts me every single day, the way I ran away like a coward, the regret of not having pulled you by the arms and kissed every little detail that I love so much about you, which perhaps would have been impossible, since I don't just love your exterior, but also your interior, this wonderful woman that you are, your personality, your grace and tenderness, fuck, I don't even like swear words, what did I say? But, hell, you're the woman I want to be with."

The fighter remained silent, leaving the blond distressed, breathing irregularly and sweating visibly. He was as cold as an ice cube. Daniel, who was watching through the window of the small room, could have sworn that his friend was about to faint, Johnny and he were already preparing to run in case something really happened to the boy.

"I hate you, you know?" — Finally something came out of her mouth, surprising him, not in a positive way.

"Did I do it too late? That, I mean, declare myself?"

"Yes." — He sighed, throwing his body against the other's.

Robby was confused again, what was she doing? "But I love you, I love you so much that I can't say exactly what goes on in my chest and my head, they constantly fight with me."

They both laughed, still hugging each other, enjoying the short time they had together.

"You can do what you want."

"What did I want?" — She smiled, amused by the boy's short memory, taking the lead in the action that Robby had been waiting so long to do.

The fighter put her arms around the other's neck, carefully caressing the nape of her current love's neck. The caress soon went from a simple demonstration of what was about to happen, their lips collided, the movements became loose, both guided, a beautiful fit, there were no misunderstandings, or fight for command. As I said, a fit, the perfect fit.

"I love you, Robby."

"I love you too, my princess."

I'm very happy that you enjoyed my previous fanfic! That really makes me very motivated. Oh, and I place orders! :)

[cheoridoll]

distraction —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: none, just something cute

words counted: 1.582

includes: just Robby like a puppy after his love

playlist for the fic: spotify. | forgive the bad english! it's not my first language.

A toss or a distraction, Robby felt useless at this point in the day, sitting on the couch at his half-brother's house, while staring at the turned off television, totally disconnected from his current reality, only remembering how he was used by a girl. And damn, he liked it. He couldn't deny that he was like a puppy, obeying all the orders of the tough rookie girl, the one who arrived suddenly, the distant female cousin of the Larusso family. Because Daniel loved her, she was like a daughter to him.

At first, he just wanted revenge, now he finds himself in love with his own karma.

"Hey bro, grab your backpack, let's go to school" — Miguel said, throwing the backpack against Keene's rigid body, waking up to life, as his father would say.

He forgot so much about the world outside his head, that he also ended up forgetting why he was awake so early. School.

"Shit! Miguel, did you do the french work?" — like a light bulb, it lit up his mind. He spent so much time focused on Larusso that he left aside his obligations, like an idiot in love, preferring to remain in the illusion of his own daydreams.

"Yes, I did." — he agreed, transforming his expression into a somewhat confused one, eyebrows drawn together and mouth half open.

"Put my name? Please!" — he asked with a huge pout on his lips, making Diaz understand and laugh loudly at the gesture.

"Okay, but stop making that weird face."

Robby was getting more and more electric as the hours passed, excited for class after lunch. Arts had become one of his recent passions. He loved painting feelings, the most recent being the common mix of love and fear, which he affectionately nicknamed "chocolate and pepper." Love creates artists, it created Robby, and disappointment makes them better. But deep down, I hoped it would continue as an unfinished creation.

Keene continued rambling in his head, and all paths ironically led him to her, to her beautiful hair, penetrating, oblique and hidden gaze. He hated love, he hated being attracted to someone who held him up like a spear, a fucking distraction.

"Where are you looking, Keene?" — Robby's head went straight to the empty food plate, making the blow have a greater impact, his face burned with pain, his throat wanted to scream, but he couldn't.

"Shit Kyler, get out of here you idiot." — Miguel accompanied him.

Kyler had been thinking about the guy with the clear eyes in recent days, vowing to give him a good beating one day, also stating that he would at least see where the blow came from. No sooner said than done. After the crash, he became dizzy, it wasn't like he had the strength to stand up there, his face was fucked up, he lost consciousness, he even lost sight of the fact that one of the shards of glass had flown onto his shoulder. Damn the day he decided to wear a shirt with a loose collar. I lifted the table, still tipping sideways and my vision was blurred, holding his belly, as if that would give him more balance. Kyler saw the biggest opportunity, turned his body and kicked the other person's heel, knocking Robby to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Miguel tried to advance towards the other, but was stopped by the idiots, cowardly held by three people. While struggling, Kyler threw the first kick.

"Oh, Kyler!" — a female voice tore through the place.

There were feelings in the speech, not so positive so to speak, perhaps hatred, anger with a hint of jealousy.

"Only I can mess with my blond." — ran towards the brunette, kicking him away from Keene, his kicks were high, Kyler didn't really know how to attack at that moment, nor did he know if he should, opting to take small steps backwards while using defense.

"Are you such a coward that you can't just slap me?"

He attacked her with hatred, threw her body to the ground and stood on top of her torso, while holding the thin collar of the girl's blouse, ready to throw the first punch. She smiled, not an ordinary smile, a devilish smile, and the surprise came with her tears, a desolate and fearful look.

"What's going on in that cafeteria?" — shouted the director, who with heavy steps walked towards Kyler, taking him off the girl.

Behind him was Daniel, who was helping prepare the dance that night.

"Uncle, I tried to defend my friend, but when I saw..." — he burst into tears, being lifted from the ground by his uncle, who hugged him carefully.

"Fine my love." - Larusso left the girl leaning against one of the tables, heading towards the body of the former apprentice. With compassion the silence against his body, the support between his arms in the most comfortable way he could.

"Are you okay, Robby?" Nothing was said, he was still dizzy from all the blows and the coffee didn't help his anxiety at that moment.

"Uncle, I'm going to take him to the infirmary, okay?"

"Okay, princess, I'm going to go to the principal's office and sort out this mess." — The older man left, while Larusso placed Robby's arm over his shoulders, in order to avoid another contact between the other person's body and the ground.

"Robby, look at me, tell me it's okay." — He requested. "I..." - he paused, completely rethinking that moment.

"Take me to the infirmary straight away."

Without saying anything else, she took him there, the silence killed them, I missed their diverse conversations. In the end, Robby felt a little hurt, beyond the physical.

"Tell me sweetie, why are you like this?" — asked the one with locks, bringing her fingers to the other's injured face. "I know you're strong and you'd take him down whenever you wanted."

"You. I'm like this because of you." — he took his arm away and threw himself on the sofa in the infirmary.

Karla, the nurse, was at least scared by how deformed Keene was, after all, he was at a school where practically every day there were around three students injured after a hidden fight. I'll get the ice. - was the only thing he said before leaving.

"What did I do, Robby"

"Everything, just answer me one thing before I tell you to leave this room and leave me alone." — He shouted. He was more upset than actually angry, in order to just take her away from his mind and heart for a few minutes.

"Am I what to you? Cheap fun, love." — he laughed to himself. "forget the last part, I must be some idiot that you only catch when you feel like it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" — he raised his right eyebrow.

"I love you so much, and look, if I didn't show you signs of that, it's because I'm insecure. Robby, you have anyone at your feet, your exes are incredibly perfect, they fight well, they are beautiful... " —she sat next to him.

"I'm afraid of not being good enough like they were."

"I should slap you for thinking like that." — he joked.

Not that he had the courage to lift a finger at her, he loved her in a ridiculous way, which sometimes found it strange.

"I love you, I love you in a way that I've never loved anyone else and you can bet that you're the only one I want to have in my life, or better yet, build one."

"I called him, I'm not good enough to fight someone experienced yet." — she laughed, throwing his body against hers, to create a hug.

"You're over the top, Keene." — she leaned his torso, kissing the wound on the older man's face close to the wound.

"No, I'm just ridiculously in love with the new girl. In fact, how did you know the director was coming?"

"Needy. For you." - they laughed.

"Look, you kicked very well, I was quite jealous of what the highs were."

"I don't even know how I did that, I just wanted to protect you at any cost."

"Damn girl. I love you so much that I could go to hell just for you."

he didn't want hell, he wanted heaven, the roof of her mouth, to calm her busy and stressful days. The calm kiss, full of desire and passion no longer repressed, was everything they wanted and what they finally got.