#this one was lazy but I’m behind a few days trying to catch up!

[theerastour]

drawtober day 22: 22 | @taylortober | shop prints

[absfawn]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ❝ 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞, 𝐨𝐡 𝐧𝐨 ❞

eye contact with abby is something she loves a little too much. at first, she didn’t know what to do when she found you always looking at her when she would talk, or listen to a conversation. if it was her speaking, and you looked so into what she was saying, abby would get caught off guard few a couple seconds as her baby blues found yours already concentrating on her, and only her. you’d be nodding to her words, and your lips would curve up into a smile when she said something that made her laugh, a happy memory that would trigger her to smile and sometimes giggle. you watched it all. never once missing anything to do with her.

you’re the same with abby, but you don’t notice like she does sometimes, if you’re talking about something that happened to you that day, her intense stare catches you off guard. half the time, she isn’t even aware she’s staring at you that much or often until you splutter out a little “you’re just looking at me like that, can’t focus.” and she thinks it’s the cutest thing possible. how you get all shy and stammer on your words. at certain times, and points of any conversation, abby can’t help but smirk more at all of your reactions to her staring. the roles reversing just slightly that now has you the one looking away shyly, trying to regain your composure.

or the nights inside, in the warmth with a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands, and she’s too focused on the movie you’ve both decided to watch and when she turns her head to ask you if you’re enjoying it, she already catches you looking at her with a soft expression on your face and a smile resting on your lips. abby’s face flushes a crimson red, but you can barely see it under the dark lights, but it’s there and she welcomes it so easily that she just gives you a lazy grin that had you reaching over and tucking a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. “you’re so cute,” you can’t help but mumble and press your lips to her temple. the softness of your words and actions had her melting more into your touch by the second, the movie long abandoned.

“you’re cuter,” abby smiled softly up at you, brushing her knuckles over your cheek slowly. “much much cuter than me.” a giggle fell from between her lips when you leaned down just to kiss her forehead, your lips resting against her skin and had her sighing contently against you. “cutest girl i’ve ever seen” came her truthful whisper.

“i don’t believe you,” you smiled, lightly brushing strands of her hair away from her face. “you are undeniably the most handsome yet beautiful person i’ve ever met. i get lost in your eyes for hours, i love the color and i love how you look at me.”

“like what?”

“like nothing around us matters. not when you look at me like that,” you pointed out, those baby blues peering into yours like you both were truly the only two people in the world. “when you look at me like that, nothing but us matter. if i have you, i don’t need anything else.”

“maybe it’s true,” abby smiles, reaching her hand up to cup your cheek. “maybe it’s true that when i’m with you, nothing else is important” the pad of her thumb brushes against your cheekbone, and her heart melts in her chest when you’re leaning into her touch. “because nothing but you matters. you’re the only person that matters to me.”

leaning more into her hand, you kiss her palm tenderly and smile down at her. her thumb quickly catches the tear that rolls down your cheek without hesitation, and wipes it away softly with another gentle smile. “i didn’t know true love, not until i met you.” you mumbled, more or so speaking into her palm.

“i’ll show you every day how much i love you,” the blonde promised, removing her hand from your face to wrap both her arms around you, tugging you carefully into her chest. your head rests comfortably on her shoulder as her fingers run up and down your back. “i’ve never had a love like yours. didn’t think i deserved it, but it’s different with you. with you, i have a purpose to get out of bed every day, with you i don’t feel scared, with you i feel at home. i love you more than the sky needs stars and i’ll never stop showing you how much i love you.”

[natsaffection]

Apologize.

Sugar Mommy!Natasha x sugar baby!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+!

Summary: Natasha let you apologize to her employees

Warnings: Age gap! (N= 37 R= 21), BDSM themes, Mommy kink, spanking, fingering (while watched), degration

Word count: 2,3k

A/n: Happy New year! What better way to start the year than by cumming 4 times bc of this amazing creature? What? Never mind 🔊

💵 This plays in the My sweet Baby universe 💵

-

The soft glow of dawn seeped through the large windows of Natasha's penthouse, casting a warm hue across the room. She stirred from her peaceful slumber, a contrast to the groggy but content figure beside her – You.

She, with her graceful demeanor, carefully extricated herself from the cozy embrace, causing you to mumble in protest. „it's Saturdayyy, Why are you getting up so early?"

Natasha smirking and looking back to you, "Some of us have responsibilities, little girl. Work doesn't take weekends off." You, still half-asleep, pouted as Natasha leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'll be back soon. Try to get some more sleep."

"Mmm, too early for responsibilities.."

As Natasha prepared for the day, the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. You, now more awake, shuffled into the kitchen in one of Natasha's oversized shirts. "You make the best coffee, you know?" Natasha looks behind her, surprised that you are awake now and have gotten up, "One of my many talents.."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Natasha with a mix of admiration and love. Despite the early hour, Natasha's presence radiated confidence and grace. "It won't be too long. What do you have planned for the day?"

you accepted the cup she gave you and thought for a moment "well, Maybe a lazy day in, catching up on shows. You know..the usual."

"Sounds perfect. I'll be back before you know it." Before she goes, she looked at one of her Maiden, “Make sure she gets a good breakfast, I’ll be off for the day.”

“Of course, Mrs. Romanoff. Safe travels.”

As Natasha prepared to leave, she glanced toward the kitchen, catching your eye. „Please don’t made a mess while I’m gone.“

You weren't sure what she meant, but you just smiled innocently and nodded. Natasha takes another quick look around and leaves the house to go to work. As you hear the car drive further and further away, you think about what you can do today. Natasha's house all to yourself? You have to make the most of it.

You get up and put your cup in the sink and before one of the maids could take it, you jump in, "if you like, you can go home.."

She looked at you and just smiled as she picked up the cup, "Don't worry, Ms. Y/n it's fine." But you wouldn't be dissuaded "come on! Surely you have things to do? What's the big deal?"

You put on your puppy dog face and take the cup from her again. She looks at you and relents, "okay fine, but I'll be back in a few hours." Before closing the door, she looks back and bows, "Thank you, Ms Y/n"

And now you're storm free. If you're honest, you already had a plan. You pull out your cell phone and text Kate to see if she's up for a game. Knowing her, she agrees and a little later all you could hear was your screams in the living room.

"Go on, Kate!"

The living room echoed with the sounds of virtual warfare and animated banter as you and Kate immersed yourselves in their gaming session. The excitement mounted and soon you’re playful trash talk escalated to full-blown screams.

"Take that! In your face!"

"No way! I totally had you!"

"Admit it, Kate. I'm the gaming champion!"

"Oh, you wish! Prepare for the ultimate comeback!"

The planned two hours turned into seven and one cup ended up being more. A bag of potato chips here and a salad there. Of course, that wasn't enough, and 2 cartoons of pizza were also added.

You had completely lost track of time and didn't even notice when Maria and the others entered the house and stood there in complete shock. As if it wasn't going to get any better, they heard the keys to the front door and a second later a stressed Natasha came in, exhausted from the day

As Natasha entered her penthouse, she noticed that the hallway was already bustling with people. She put her bags down and called Maria.

"What's going on?"

Maria fidgeting nervously, "Um, well, Mrs. Romanoff,..." Natasha sensed the hesitation and raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Maria? Speak up."

Maria was split between coming to your defense and speaking the truth of her bite "It's just that, um, Miss Y/N may have gotten a little carried away with her activities today. The dishes are piling up, well, the living room isn't exactly in its usual state."

Natasha's expression became serious "I see. Thank you for the information."

"I'm sorry if I -"

"It's not your fault. I appreciate your honesty. I'll take care of it."

Maria nodded and Natasha proceeded to confront you. When she arrived in the living room, she understood what Maria meant. It looked disastrous and you were sitting in the middle of it. With wide headphones on and shouting into them as if you couldn't be heard.

You, on the other hand, were so absorbed in your world that you didn't even notice Natasha grabbing the remote control and switching off the TV. You were so baffled and thought it was a mishap that you read it out like that „NO! What the hell!!! Why is now-" As you get up, you collide with Natasha and fall back onto the couch, "Nat! What are you doing here already?"

She, however, was totally unenthusiastic and you could see that in her eyes, "Already? Y/n have you looked at the time? It's 6 pm! How long have you been sitting in front of that thing?" You repeat what she said and look in shock at the big clock on the wall and your heart stops. Fuck. At that moment you remembered everything else and looked around. Your garbage was everywhere, pizza boxes, forks, empty bottles, the sink was full to the brim, stains everywhere, "U-Uhm...I must have forgotten the time..."

Natasha swallowed her nerves and put the remote back down, "looks like it! You have 10 minutes to clean up the mess. I'm going to take a shower, the day hasn't been stressful enough."

Wow, she sounds like your mom when you were little. Why do they always want you to do it right away? You sigh and lean against the couch again to get away from all the trouble, but Natasha doesn't like that, "What do you think you're doing? Come on, clean up."

You rolled your eyes and your mouth was faster than your brain "come on clean up... Why doesn't Maria do it or something..." when you had spoken it, you remained frozen and literally prayed that Natasha hadn't heard. You turn around, heart pounding, and see her staring at you. Now you really have it. "I-I didn't mean that! I-!"

"Undress."

You blink, what did she say?

Natasha's nostrils flared, her chest rose and fell. "Ah, not so chatty now?" she walks up to you and lifted your chin, "what's wrong? Color?“ Despite the situation, your stomach flutters that she could switch her emotions so much and now asked you about your condition, „G-Green, it's just..what if the others come in?"

Natasha in turn, grinned, "Oh sladost (darling), if that's it..don't worry about it. Now turn around, knees, hands on the floor, and ass in the air.“

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you turned around. Lower your hands to the floor and kneel on the ground. You hear Natasha sit down on the couch and seconds later, came the first blow, "I won't stop until your ass is purple," she announced casually and started again, "You don't have to count this time. But you better be prepared to barely be able to sit for the next week."

You try as hard as you can to stay quiet, so as not to make Natasha any angrier and let the spanks wash over you. After 10 strokes, she leans over you and asks in your ear, "Color?" You exhale deeply and with wiggling arms you say, "Green..."

Natasha leaned back again, "stand up and look at me." You do as she said and now stand in front of her with trembling legs. She leans up again, and looks up at you, "Do you trust me?" You didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but you were clear about one thing, "Of course, Mommy. Always." You see her smiling contentedly, "well then. Off to the corner back there, on your knees and hands behind your back." Your eyes widen. That was new. "M-Mommy..why-"

"Don't question me, or your punishment will be even longer."

You let out a shaky breath and angrily do as she said. When you were in position, Natasha finally stood up, "Come in and clean up please."

Your breath caught in your throat. This isn't really happening.

Natasha looked at you as Maria and the others entered the room to clean up the mess you had made. They didn't even glance at you because they knew what was going to happen if. You, however, didn't know and felt totally exposed. You feel your hands grow cold and close your eyes so that you can drown in the shame of strangers.

"I know it's a lot, but try to do it in ten minutes. I'm finally going to take my shower, and you over there! Don't move an inch." She looks at you again to make sure you've understood. You just whisper "Y-Yes, Mommy.." to yourself and then hear her leave the room. You also heard the maids running through the room to remove the dirt. You just wanted to sink into the ground and try to think of something else.

When Natasha came back exactly 10 minutes later, she was proud to see that not only did the room look clean again, but you were still kneeling in your corner. "What a good girl you can be. Come here."

You stood up and your knees were red due the kneeling. Turning around, you took in the room again and looked around for the maids, but found none. You slowly approached Natasha and she welcomed you with her hands on your hips and looked down at you. "Jump."

You knew what that meant and you jump, wrapping your legs around her, thinking you were both going up to her bedroom now. But you were wrong. She angrily moved you to the couch and put you down again. She kissed you and swallowed your moans that you let out. Then she kissed her way down and stood up again. She took one hand and stroked it from your thigh down to your knee and lifted it slightly. She put her tongue on it and licked her way back up to your throbbing spot, not taking her eyes off you for a second. When she finally took your clit in her mouth, she held your thighs down so you couldn't bend too far and you moaned.

"You are fabulous, your cunt is fabulous." She poked her tongue in, and you put your hands over your mouth, afraid that the others were still around. Natasha noticed this and pulled her tongue out of you. She reached under your back and pulled you up to her. She turned you so that your back was now leaning against her chest. She didn't hesitate for a second and immediately filled you with her fingers "Ah! This p-position! It’s ..."

Natasha wraps an arm around you and pulls you even closer, thrusting deeper into you. You leaned forward to somehow release the pressure, but fearing you were mistaken, Natasha turned you and leaned you against the wall with a hard thrust. She attacks your neck and pumped her fingers in and out, if she didn't hold you against the wall, you would surely slide up and down, „It’s t-too r-rough , my back..."

She lifted one thigh so you could put some weight on it and continued with her temp, "come in."

You were preoccupied with yourself, but when you heard, "Ms. Romanoff." your eyes shot open and you saw Maria standing right in front of you with her head down.

Natasha looked at you, "Apologize to her." Your head is spinning and Natasha's fingers just wouldn't stop pumping continuously in your pussy, this time her thumb rubbing wildly against your clit, "tell her you're sorry for the mess and for the fact that she cleaned it up!"

She gave a strong thrust which made you slide up a little and groan, "I'm sorry! Ah-no ..please..I'm..s-sorry! Ah-h!!!" Natasha was still pushing, "for..?"

She can't be serious..you could barely think, "t-the filth..please.."

"Apology accepted, Ms. Y/n, thank you." You managed to open your eyes a little and blurred to see that Maris still had her head bent down.

"Dismissed." natasha told her in a cold tone and Maria left the room again. Now, Natasha looked at you again, "how's it looking? Lesson learned?" You were literally drooling on her shoulder and could almost just nod, "y-yes..I'm sorry..please..I'm almost there-"

Natasha had to chuckle and applied pressure to her hand one last time. You tensed and held onto her shoulder like you would die if you fell off and before you knew it You came all over her, completely staining her and the floor in your wetness.

Natasha had to hold you so you didn't slip out of her arms. She lifted you bridestyle and you leaned against her chest. This time she really is on her way to the bedroom and as she climbs the stairs she looks at you again and speaks softly, "You know they never seen you from the front. The sight is only for me and especially only for you, okay?"

You wanted to say something about how nice you thought the gesture was, but you just couldn't find the strength and fall into a deep sleep.

-

-

-

I wannaaaaa

[simplygojo]

Mysterious Day Off

Author's Note: I love the idea of domestic Toji so I actually LOVEDDD writing out this prompt request. TYSM for requesting! I hope this is up to your standards! We love a sexy lazy man.

Pairing: Toji Fuhsiguro x f!reader

Request: "'Let's spend the whole day in bed.' 'We have a few more minutes.' but toji and his partner with a job (his unemployed ass 🙄) i'm jk i love him the things i'd do to have him as my partner are unspeakable (for this can we imagine he's a stay at home partner? or maybe he has a day off? or he works from home idk how that'd work considering who he is but we're rolling with it 😭)" - Anonymous

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: none

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You blinked your eyes open, still wrapped in the comfort of the blankets, only to find yourself tangled in Toji’s arms. 

He lay beside you, his face buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His strong arm was slung over your waist, keeping you close, as if he had no intention of letting you go.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep as he nuzzled deeper into the crook of your neck, placing lazy kisses against your skin.

You sighed, running your fingers through his messy dark hair, savouring the feeling of his warmth. 

But reality was already creeping in. You had work today, and as much as you loved mornings like this, you couldn’t stay wrapped in his arms all day.

“Toji…” You whispered though you didn’t make any immediate move to get up. You were enjoying the quiet moment, the way his broad chest rose and fell with each slow breath.

“Hm?” He hummed, not bothering to open his eyes, his grip tightening around you as if he could sense you thinking about leaving. “What’s the rush? Let’s spend the whole day in bed.”

You laughed softly, but you knew better. “I can’t. Some of us actually have to work, you know.”

Toji finally opened one eye, peering at you with a lazy, teasing grin. “I’ve got the day off.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting a little in his hold. “What a mysterious day off…you know, I still don’t even know what you do for work.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his voice full of amusement. “It’s better if you don’t.”

That only made you more curious, but you’d stopped asking a while ago. 

Toji was Toji; mysterious and frustratingly secretive. But right now, you had more pressing matters than figuring out his job—like getting to your job on time.

With a sigh, you carefully untangled yourself from his arms and swung your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. “Well, I don’t have the day off. I need to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

As you stood and reached for your clothes, you felt Toji’s eyes on you, watching every movement like a predator watching his prey. 

He stretched out on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, smirking as you grabbed your blouse from the back of your chair.

“You sure you have to go?” He asked, his voice a low, tempting drawl. “We’ve got a few more minutes. Could make ‘em count.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him stretched out, shirtless, looking far too inviting. 

The way his dark hair was tousled, the way the sheets clung to his form… It was almost enough to convince you to call in sick—almost.

But you had to be strong. You had responsibilities. A big-shot financial advisor in Tokyo couldn’t exactly blow off work to cuddle all day. Right?

“Toji,” you warned, walking to the edge of the bed as you slipped your blouse on over your head. “Don’t make this harder.”

He sat up, moving with that effortless grace he always had, and in a second, his arms were around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed with him. 

You let out a startled laugh as he pinned you beneath him, his lips ghosting over your neck.

“Toji,” you warned, though your resolve was already weakening. “Don’t make this harder.”

"Harder? I’m not even trying yet," he teased, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands wandered up your sides, his touch warm and gentle, but the way he was looking at you was anything but innocent.

You couldn’t help but melt under his touch, your protests growing weaker with every kiss. “Toji… I really… have to…”

He cut you off with a kiss, capturing your lips in a slow, heated embrace that made you forget whatever you were about to say. 

His hands were all over you now, tracing the curve of your waist, slipping under your blouse as if trying to remind you just how good it felt to stay right there, with him.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless, your mind foggy with a mixture of desire and frustration. 

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite behind it.

Toji grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You couldn’t deny that. No matter how infuriating he could be, no matter how much he loved to tease, you loved him. And he knew it.

But you still had work.

With great effort, you pushed at his chest, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Seriously. I have to go.”

He let out a low groan of disapproval, releasing you and rolling onto his back and throwing an arm behind his head. 

You crawled off the comfy bed and slid on your dress pants. After glancing at the clock, you frantically combed your hair and brushed on some mascara at your small vanity in the corner. 

As you turned the doorknob, you glanced back at him one last time. 

Toji was still lounging in bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he watched you, but there was something in his eyes, a softness beneath the usual teasing glint.

Have a good day saving Tokyo or whatever it is you do. But don’t blame me when yer missin’ me all day.”

You smirked, opening the door and taking one last look at the beautiful man laying before you. 

“I’ll survive.” 

[solxamber]

Hello again im the person who asked for the seraphim reader shshs I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING ONG😭😭😭

Im asking again if ya dont mind if you do mine again👉👈 will you do reader as that cat from caroline that always disappeared and have the same attitude as that cat (i forgot the name💔) with Jade, Azul, Jamil. Right what scenarios you can imagine dont mind T v T..

Jade, Azul, Jamil with a 'The Cat'! Reader

hi! thanks for the request <3 (also the cat doesn't have a name iirc, isn't he just "the cat"?)

Jade Leech

Jade, with his poised and enigmatic demeanor, actually enjoys your elusive nature—but that doesn’t mean he’s not intrigued by it. Whenever you slip away from conversations, he’s one of the few who doesn’t immediately react, just giving you a knowing look. He catches on quickly that your disappearances are deliberate, and he plays along, responding with subtle jabs that mirror your own humor.

"I do wonder, where have you been lurking this time? The ceiling? The rafters?" Jade’s tone is teasing, his eyes twinkling like he’s in on a private joke only the two of you share.

You appear behind him without a sound, leaning close enough to whisper, “Maybe I never left.”

Jade doesn’t flinch—he’s used to your antics by now—but there’s a slight quirk of his eyebrow that tells you you’ve gotten under his skin just enough. “Careful, or I might follow next time.”

“If you can,” you reply, your voice full of that Cheshire-like amusement, before disappearing again—though you know he’ll catch up soon enough.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul finds your habit of appearing and disappearing at will infuriatingly fascinating. You’re always there when he least expects it, often chiming in with sarcastic remarks that leave him rattled. As the sharp, business-minded octopus he is, he tries his best to maintain control in any situation. But with you, his usual composure is constantly tested.

One day, you’re lounging lazily across his desk, legs swinging off the edge, watching him fumble through contracts. “Careful, Azul. Miss a clause, and it’s your soul next.”

Azul nearly jumps out of his chair, gripping his quill a little too tightly. “How did you get in here? This office is private!”

You simply grin, your voice smooth. “Doors are for people who can’t make their own entrances.”

He huffs, straightening his glasses. “If you’re here to disrupt my business, you’ll need to schedule an appointment like everyone else.”

“Or,” you say, your figure already fading into thin air as you lazily wave a hand, “I’ll just pop in when it’s most inconvenient.”

Azul groans, but you know deep down he’s already thinking of ways to turn your strange talent into a profitable venture.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is hard to surprise, but you’ve perfected the art of doing just that. No matter how calculated his moves are, you always manage to show up when he’s most stressed, casually inserting yourself into the situation with a smug, knowing look that drives him mad.

One evening, while Jamil is in the middle of strategizing, you suddenly appear on the counter, legs crossed, watching him as if you’ve been there the entire time. “Why so tense, Viper? Afraid someone might be... watching?”

Jamil freezes for half a second, then glares at you. “I knew you were there. You’re just trying to unsettle me.”

You grin wider, stretching like a lazy feline. “If you knew, you wouldn’t look so rattled. You humans are always so easy to predict.”

He sighs, clearly not in the mood for your games, but there’s a flicker of exasperated fondness in his eyes. “If you’re not here to help, at least don’t get in my way.”

You disappear once more, your voice echoing behind. “Maybe I’m helping more than you realize.”

Jamil shakes his head but smirks slightly, knowing you’ll pop up again at the worst possible time. He’s already preparing for it, even if he knows you’ll always keep him on his toes.

Masterlist

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex, pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

w.c» 2.1 K

“Sis, I love you I do, but the gym life isn’t meant for someone like me.” You panted out.

You weren’t sure why the sudden urge to accompany your best friend to the gym came about. Maybe it was because you were tired of always feeling burned out, sluggish and lazy. Possibly because you seen how fit, and fucking sexy, your best friend was getting after starting her fitness journey a while back. Whatever the reason, it went out the window the moment you set foot inside the gym complex with her and tried, very pathetically, to keep up with the routine she’d developed for herself. 

“Fuck this,” you thought, “I’d rather be home eating ice cream while watching Flavor of Love.” 

“See, that’s your problem right there. Rather be watching old TV shows and being lazy then getting your sexy on.” She fired back at you making you realize the last thought was actually out loud. You rolled your eyes playfully before glancing back over to her. 

 Both you and your best friend were on the treadmill walking at an incline with the speed up more that you would have liked. She was barely breaking a sweat, having gotten comfortable on the machine while jamming out to her workout playlist. She had on a two-piece workout set, showing off her toned stomach and big ass. You glanced around the gym, catching a few of the men every now and then peeking over at her, trying to get her attention. 

You on the other hand, you were barely making it. Panting like a dog in heat, your workout set you borrowed from her was sweated out, and your puff was starting to frizz out from all the sweating going on in your head. You could only imaged how you may have looked to everyone else inside the gym.

“C’mon Jade, I applaud you for your fitness journey but obviously I’m not ready, I should have at least started off slow so I could get used to it.” You whined out. She snorted out a laugh while throwing you a look. 

“Oh no ma’am, I tried to do that for you, but you were the one that said you could keep up.” She said as a matter of fact. All you could do was huff in annoyance at her response, because she was right. You figured anything she could do you would’ve been able to. You assumed it wouldn’t have been that bad, but you quickly seen the lie in that. 

“Whatever.” You mumbled as she smiled triumphantly, knowing she won the argument. 

“I’m not even tripping,” You began, “I’m about to get my unfit ass off this treadmill and head home, take a shower and be lazy.” You said determined. 

“Seriously Y/n? We’ve barely been here for forty-five minutes.” She looked at you with a judgemental look. You promised, no matter how much you might’ve complained, to see it through and finish the workout. But fuck that, Flavor of Love and a tube of ice cream was calling your ass. 

“Nah sis, I tap out. And there’s nothing or no one that’s gonna make me change my mi-”

“Uh excuse me miss?” 

You heard a deep, baritone voice sound off behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to tell off the person for interrupting your monologue only to be stopped dead in your tracks with the sight before you. 

There stood a man, looking like the epitome of a gym God. You were met with a chiseled face, a smirk etched across his features. Sharp, bold crimson red eyes that stared down at you with a glint of amusement and playfulness. He graced you with his shirt off showing his toned washboard abs, littered with tattoos and sweat cascading down his torso, all the way down to his deep V-line. Gray gym shorts that hung dangerous low off his hips, not missing the way he was flexing his sculptured legs. Along with huge forearms that were decorated with dark line tattoos as well. 

In the mist of eye fucking the man, you briefly forgot you were on a moving treadmill, almost busting your ass in front of him and the whole gym. Before making a fool of yourself, he caught you just as you were about to fall off. Wrapping his huge forearms around your waist, securing you in place.

“Woah, you alright ma?” He asked. You looked up to his face, seeing his eyebrows furrow in concern. You also caught the sweat dripping, oh so deliciously off the tip of his nose, resisting the sudden urge to reach up and poke the tip of your tongue out to catch it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You thought to yourself.

You gulped as you stared into deep into his crimson eyes, becoming entranced by them. He shook you lightly to capture your attention again.

 “Hey, you sure you good?” He asked again. He wrapped his arms around you tighter while staring back into your eyes waiting on a response. 

“Y/n, girl say something.” Your best friend broke the silence. You gasped and looked down, becoming embarrassed by your actions.

“Oh yea, I’m good, thank you for catching me.” You answered timidly. 

Being plushed against his chest, you melted like puddy feeling the vibrations coming off from his deep chuckle at your response. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you hurting herself.” He answered with a smirk. 

You looked up at him shocked, making his smirk deepen. 

“Maybe being at the gym wasn’t so bad.” You thought. 

“I hate to break up this lil’ love session, but we were in the middle of working out. While at least I was, my friend here was getting ready to lea-” Jade started before you cut her off abruptly. 

“Oh uh yea, I actually was about to get off the treadmill and head over to start on the stair master.” You found yourself saying, trying to give off the impression you come to the gym all the time. Without having to look back at your best friend you know she was giving you a “Bitch, are you serious” look into the back of your head, so much so it made your scalp start itching.

The man, still with his arms around you, let out a deep laugh this time. 

“Is that so ma? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you seem like you was struggling on this treadmill.” He said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His response caught you off-guard while it made Jade throw her head back, cackling. Caught red handed, you chuckled lightly. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, not realizing you placed your hands on-top of his forearms while standing comfortably in his embrace, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down at your while unconsciously giving you a light squeeze. 

“Yea that and your panting, I could hear you over the speakers ma.” He joked causing your to groan in embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness of him catching you in a lie, you both stay in your current position, neither of you moving. Only deepening the stare you both were committed in. Your best friend looked between you and the mysterious man. Dispelling whatever magnetic charm you both had each other captivated in, Jade cleared her through signaling both of you to gaze in her direction. 

“Not trying to be rude or anything, but what exactly was your reasoning for coming over?” Jade got straight to the point. Even though she knew the answer to it. Despite your own thoughts over your appearance, you were drop dead gorgeous. From you bra-length natural hair, medium brown complexion, big doe eyes, plush lips and a curvaceous body, Stevie Wonder could even see how fine you were. You just had to get out of your head about your looks. But Jade knew that was easier said that done, otherwise you wouldn’t have forced yourself to accompany her to the gym. However seeing how transfixed you’ve become around this guy, she was more than glad that you did tag along. 

“Oh uh right, well I seen how hard of a time she was having with the treadmill, I just wanted to come over and suggest a few pointers.” The man stated. He wasn’t lying, that was part of his reason for coming over. The other part was to introduce himself to you. He noticed you the moment you and your best friend walked inside the gym and was immediately hooked. He knew without a doubt he wasn’t leaving this gym until he at least got your name, and hopefully your number. 

“Oh how sweet of you.” Jade said playfully when an idea popped inside of her mind. She threw a cheshire cat smile at the both of you before continuing her statement. 

“Seeing that you want to make sure Y/n is doing the workouts correctly, why don’t you guys start coming to the gym together.” She said with a glint in her eyes.

“If motivation is what you want”, Jade thought to herself, he’s definitely all the motivation you need Y/n.” 

You whipped your head around almost giving yourself whiplash, looking at your best friend as if she just lost her mind. From the looks of the guy, he took his workouts serious. You barely kept up with Jade, why in the hell did she think you would be able to keep up with him?

You were getting ready to shoot down the idea when he began talking. 

“I don’t mind ma, that’s if you’re up to it?” He asked hopeful. He was silently thanking your best friend for being his voluntary wingman in assisting a chance for him to see you again. You turned back to face him, meeting his hopeful stare and small smile, giving you all the push you needed to slowly nod your head yes at the proposal. His smile deepened as he squeezed you once more. Realizing you were still in his arms, his actions caused you to gasp slightly, making Jade chuckle at the interaction. 

“Cool, I work out pretty much everyday around eight at night, so whatever day works best for you ma, I’m available.” He stated as he looked down into your light brown, doe eyes. He couldn’t help but image how they would be closed slightly, hooded with lust as he pinned you under him while he thrusted deep ins-

“Sure, uhm how about this Wednesday night? That’ll work best.” You cut off his thoughts with your proposal. Coughing as he blushed from his vivid thoughts, he nodded in acknowledgement. Hell, you could’ve said to meet up on Mars at the eleventh hour to workout, he would’ve made damn sure to make it work just to be around you again. 

Sliding his arms from around your waist, you tried to hide the disappointed sigh that escaped from your lips, causing him to smirk lightly. 

“Alright ma, that’s a bet. Give me your number and I’ll text you later to make sure you don’t flake on me.” He joked. You rolled your eyes playfully and smacked your teeth, causing him to shoot his eyebrows up in amusement. 

“Oh she has a ‘lil attitude problem, I’m gonna have to set that straight.” He thought to himself. 

“Boy whatever.” You said as you tried hiding your smile. You reached out your hand, signaling for him to hand over his phone. You typed in your cell number and text yourself so you could go in later and put him into your contact list. Handing him back his phone, he let his hand intertwine with yours longer than it needed to be, sparking an electric jolt to course from your fingertips all the way over your body. 

“Cool, I’ll see you Wednesday ma.” He said with a small smile before turning away to walk back to the area he was working out at. You gave a small nod, about to turn back to Jade before realizing you never caught his name. In a hurry you called out to him to grab his attention. 

“Hey wait, I never got your name?” You said with a small pout. The action making his dick stir a little in his gray shorts. 

He looked you up and down before catching your gaze again with a smirk to his lips. 

“Sukuna.” He said with wink and turned to leave. 

You stayed hypnotized in the same spot he left you, watching his figure walk away before you heard your best friend behind you. 

“See you got your own Flavor of Love right here, didn’t even have to go home for it.” 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Batfam x reader going to an escape room

Gesus I went insane from this, I was too lazy to do Babs and Bruce I’m sorry- 😭😭

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Batfam x S/o VS Escape Rooms

Dick Grayson

God forbid you bring him to a horror-themed escape room. He can fight Joker, Slade, almost get killed like three days a week but he’s scared of them nasty ass sound effects when you unlock a clue and begin jumping on you while screaming until he stops and goes “oh hey, a clue-”

Sometimes keep pointing at the wrong kinds of clues. Like the ones that have the sticker label that says “NOT PART OF ROOM” and can still ask, “is this a clue???”

If you’re scared, both of you can cling together although both of you would push each other to try to punch in the coordinates because you fear the whacky effects this escape room offers.

He will, however, do everything you tell him when trying to solve puzzles. Dick will sacrifice all his loud sound fear and do it for you. Otherwise if you’re brave enough (magically) he’ll just look from behind and clap with amazement.

Whether you two escape or not… usually not. You guys get stuck there most of the time although he wouldn’t be so jumpy and can focus if you two pick a non-horror-themed escape room. You two still had fun though and that’s all that matters. <3

Jason Todd

I felt like he might’ve destroyed the props inside the room out of frustration. Horror themed or not, this man can get frustrated over puzzles he’s failing at. Like one time this man was punching in possible combinations as stated in the piece of paper you two found (miraculously) that had a riddle to the password of the lock the two of you were trying to open and ends up breaking the lock with his bare hands out of frustration that the host had to rush in after catching all that on camera.

He keeps complaining, “that shit is more nonsensical than Riddler’s riddles, goddamnit!” He just wants to win and get out of here with you. That’s the whole POINT.

The one who keeps making sarcastic jokes about all the clues like “this guy puts ‘DEATH’ as the password, how original”, “wow. Who could’ve guessed the VAMPIRE out of the three options where the two others are HUMANS is the killer. Incredible.” You’ll never here the end of it-

If you’re scared, he’ll hold you closer to him (while he slowly loses his shit to colour coordinated buttons) and secretly likes how you cling to him if you are scared. If not, he’s appreciative you try to calm him down and help him stay focus.

You two would sometimes get out, sometimes not successfully, but all the time you’d usually get a bill to pay for the damaged props. Couple goals. <3

Tim Drake

He is full on lock mode INTO this escape room game. By this point, you two are just speed-running through this to get out and win.

Tim is a detective with an IQ of 142 after all, so most of the escape rooms are just easy for him that you complain isn’t fun anymore. Thus, you two go for the really hard ones and I mean those REALLY hard ones like “The Caretaker” kinda with a 1.5% success rate THEN would things get interesting.

Tim likes a challenge, and he gets even more determined to be successful in escaping. He’s not scared of the props, even in horror-themed because he’s super driven to win. If you get scared of horror-themed, and even more terrifying is that it has such a low success rate he’s still by your side trying to reassure you while trying to solve the clues to get the both of you to the next section. Most of the time, you two get out. He gets super salty if he was about to key in the code to get out but just that split second he ran out of time and the both you didn’t get out. Kiss his cheek so he’ll completely forget being salty and more red-faced. <3

Damian Wayne

Like Jason, might’ve break a few props in the process of being frustrated. He’s laser focused in winning and escaping, it’s just that he’s frustration bubbles up easily in an escape room when he come across a particularly challenging roadblock he might push away his rationality and break the lock with his bare hands like Jason (dude how??).

He’s not scared of escape rooms, and maybe for the cheaper ones he’ll think are lame: commenting on how fake the blood is or how plastic-y the skull is with his bad painting. If you’re scared though, he’s silently celebrating the fact he gets to hold you close all while having a straight face.

Inside, his brain is yelling “YESSSSSSS- THANK YOU LORD FOR LETTING ME HOLD THEM IN MY ARMS AND-”

Yeah- pretty much just sums up the most chaotic experience for you or at least, whatever goes on his head.

Usually would get out with him, although sometimes you two would find a bill to pay for broken props but it’s not as bad as Jason’s count so don’t worry. <3

Duke Thomas

He’s pretty good at escaping actually. Well, he’s not as fast as Tim, but if given an hour on an average escape room, Duke can get out with you in maybe 50 minutes flat.

Of course, he’s not gonna try escaping an escape room with a success rate of 1.5% like Tim is, he knows his limits.

Has fun in horror and non-horror themed escape rooms alike. He’s mildly scared of the horror ones, maybe just be slightly jumpy but he won’t scream hysterically or anything. He’ll probably laugh it off and focus on figuring out the clues.

Maybe throw in a joke or two like, “wow, this guy just gives us the password through people’s surnames that are all colour names. If only it was that easy in stakeout mission-”

If you’re scared, he’s there for you and reminds you it’s fake. You’re not gonna die here (because this isn’t a twisted kind of escape room set up by Joker or anything like that, it’s an entertainment one so it’s okay-) and is pretty chill about the whole thing.

Pretty high success rate to escape for most escape rooms and definitely a lot of fun with him even if you guys fail! <3

Cassandra Cain

Also pretty high success rate of getting out of your average escape room, but she also might be another one to break the props but usually by accident.

She might be a little frustrated rattling with the locker and wondering what other possible the lock combination could work when she accidentally uses her strength and kinda… breaks the lock by accident. The two of you would look at each other as Cass slowly just… puts the lock away and gets to the next clue while the two of you act like nothing happened.

Very calm and collected and she’s just unfazed with the horror-themed escape rooms. She’s seen far worse and in fact, she thinks the horror-themed ones are fun that she’s seen smiling more while solving each clue.

If you’re scared of the props, she tried to reassure you they’re face by showing the blood is fake and the skulls are fake (and then accidentally breaks them somehow or drops the fake blood on the floor-) as she tried to reassure you.

Overall, 10/10 good time with Cass. <3

Stephanie Brown

Okay so… she’s focused, yes, but she takes a really long time to think. Just a tad bit. Might be like Dick: points to the prop that has a “NOT PART OF ESCAPE ROOM” label and goes “is this a clue???”

She’s trying, she really is. Has a pretty normal chance of escaping with you but usually with only 5 minutes left or less. I think the most insane one was when you and her finally broke out on the dot when one hour was over and it was time’s up. The host was just doing that white guy blinking meme thing and was like- “huh- okay-”

She’s kinda jumpy in horror-themed escape rooms, but she’s not like Dick to scream her lungs out. Maybe just let out a yelp or “HOLY SHI—” out loud and be like “goddamnit” when she quickly recovers.

If you’re scared, it’s okay she’s got you! Even if she’s a bit startled in the beginning, she’ll be your (mostly) knight in shining armour!

She jokes a lot about the props around like: “Lmao, this goofy horse painting’s like Jason”, “Why the skull look so poorly painted on the eyes”, “What is with that silly sounding witch laugh, lmao” to lighten up the mood.

Funny times with Steph in there so 10/10. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[animeyanderetalker]

Just wanna say I LOVE your blue lock headcannons, I’ve been rereading them nonstop this past few days! But also from reading it a good chunk of them seem to “take the lead” in the relationship, at least subtly in some characters, so I’m wondering what some of the blue lock boys’ reactions would be to an s/o that would do a “kabedon” (a wall slam) to catch them off guard, despite the fact I’m more likely shorter than ALL of them 😂

I just chose the characters that I featured in my Hc's on my main blog:

Ego Jinpachi would just give his darling a very long and silent look without blinking once until the awkward silence makes you visibly uncomfortable and you slowly move away from him which then moves him to walk away and continue with whatever he was doing before. He's not going to say anything about it.

Mikage Reo does like to show off to his darling but he is quite a sucker for them which means that them doing a wall slam will actually greatly fluster him to the point where his cheeks and the tips of his ears actually grow pink and he kind of forgets how to speak for a few moments.

Teieri Anri probably lets out a startled yelp when you suddenly slam your hand behind the wall and cage her in between your body and the wall. The whole position flies over her head for a good few moments where she just ends up scolding you for scaring her before she actually realises what you're doing and then proceeds to get embarrassed, her cheeks flushed all whilst she still continues to scold you though her voice is more high-pitched now.

Kunigami Rensuke proceeds to clear his throat in his best attempts to hide any bashfulness he might be feeling even if the pink tips of his ears are very likely to give him away. Otherwise he remains quite composed though as he gently pushes you away from him.

Itoshi Rin is the second candidate after Jinpachi who is most likely just going to stare at you though as soon as you awkwardly shuffle away from him he actually grabs your wrist and asks you what all of this was about. Only after you have explained what the action of kabedon actually means will he have a tiny reaction by blinking a few times before dismissing this trope as stupid though you could swear that you see a dust of pink on his cheeks.

Barou Shoei doesn't even flinch when you try to push him against the wall, you're literally unable to move his body made out of sheer muscles and by the time he decides to amuse you by letting himself get slammed against the wall the whole surprise is already ruined. That's probably when he decides to suddenly reverse the positions by grabbing you by your hips and twisting you around so that he is the one caging you in between his body and the wall all whilst teasing you that this is how a kabedon is supposed to happen. Try harder next time.

Chigiri Hyoma is also caught by surprise when you suddenly slam your hands against the walls behind him though as soon as the first few seconds of surprise are over and he realises what you're doing he tries to somewhat downplay his reaction even if the pink on his cheeks gives him away. Don't tease him too much about it though or he might start pouting.

Bachira Meguru is just happy that his darling is giving him attention though there is some confusion laced within that grin of his. So he starts pestering you about why you just did that and as soon as you have explained to him what a kabedon is he decides that he wants to try too since it looks fun which is why you soon find yourself with your back against the wall.

Nagi Seishiro has the most bored reaction out of the entire bunch. Tired and lazy eyes just look at you with a hint of bewilderment but ultimately he decides to not even bother and instead just slumps his body forward so that you have to catch him before he pulls you down with him so that both of you are sitting on the ground and are just hugging.

Isagi Yoichi is also one who flinches when you suddenly slam your hands against the wall behind him and for a few seconds he looks like a deer caught in headlight as he looks at you and blinks rapidly, his body tense. Eventually his brain catches up with what is happening and that is when he starts blushing, still gathering the strength to ask if you could remove yourself before somebody sees the two of you.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 4: It's You And Me, There's Nothing Like This.

Author's Note: A filler before the real action begins.

Prequel to The Last Great American Dynasty.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Swearing, 18+.

Summary: In the shadowy underworld of New Orleans, where power is currency and loyalty is a fragile thread, you find yourself entangled with Remy LeBeau, a charismatic and dangerous mob boss. What begins as a chance encounter soon evolves into a complex, intense relationship that neither of you saw coming.

In the weeks following the incident at the club, it felt like the entire city of New Orleans had shifted around you. It started small��glances from people you didn’t recognize, lingering too long to be coincidental. Conversations would stop when you walked by, eyes tracking you as if you were suddenly someone worth noticing. You were no stranger to the city, not really, but now it seemed like the city had become a stranger to you.

The regulars at the bar started treating you differently too. The usual casual nods and half-hearted greetings became something closer to respect, maybe even fear. People who normally wouldn’t give you a second glance now leaned in when you spoke, like whatever you had to say was suddenly more important. It was subtle, but you could feel it. The air was charged, like you’d become part of some unspoken hierarchy—one that revolved around Remy LeBeau.

Remy LeBeau.

He hadn’t left your thoughts since that night. And, as much as you hated to admit it, the way he’d started acting toward you in the days after made it harder to keep your walls up. He was still the smooth-talking charmer, that much hadn’t changed, but something in his demeanor had shifted. He wasn’t just flirting, wasn’t just throwing around that lazy grin of his to get what he wanted. He was asking about you—about your life.

The first time it happened, it caught you off guard.

You were wiping down the bar, trying to ignore the way his crew had taken over the VIP area again, when he appeared at the counter, leaning just close enough to catch your attention without intruding. “How ya doin’, cher?” His voice was smooth, that Cajun lilt wrapping around the words like honey, but there was something softer in his eyes than usual.

You didn’t want to answer him at first. You didn’t want to give him anything. But something in the way he asked—like he actually cared—made you pause.

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking up from the glass in your hand.

“Yeah?” he pressed, his eyes not leaving you. “Been wonderin’ ‘bout ya. You ain’t been ‘round much lately.”

You blinked, unsure of where this sudden interest was coming from. Remy wasn’t the type to ask questions unless he had something to gain. And yet, over the next few days, it became clear this wasn’t just a one-time thing. He started talking to you more, showing up at the bar even when he didn’t really need anything. And when his crew was in the VIP area, he spent most of his time leaning against the bar, talking to you instead  of them.

It wasn’t just idle chit-chat, either. He asked about your life—about your family, your job, the things you liked to do when you weren’t working. He remembered the small details too, things you’d mentioned offhandedly, like the fact that you don’t like pickles or that your favorite place for coffee was the little shop on Decatur Street. It wasn’t just surface-level interest. He was paying attention—and that scared you more than anything.

One night, after a few too many drinks, he introduced you to Scott, the man who was unofficially his second-in-command. You’d seen Scott before, of course—he was always there, hovering just behind Remy like a shadow. But this was different. This was personal.

“This here is Scott,” Remy had said, draping an arm over his friend’s shoulder casually, like they’d known each other forever. “If I ain’t ‘round, he’s the man you wanna talk to.”

Scott had smiled—an easy, relaxed smile that made you feel a little more at ease. He wasn’t as flashy as Remy, didn’t have that same magnetic energy, but there was something solid about him, something reliable. He was the kind of guy you could count on in a crisis. And from the way Remy talked about him, it was clear he trusted Scott more than anyone else in his crew.

“Nice to meet you,” you’d said, shaking Scott’s hand.

“Likewise,” Scott had replied, his voice steady, his eyes kind. “Remy talks ‘bout you a lot.”

That comment had made your heart stumble in your chest. You hadn’t known what to say to that, so you forced a smile, trying not to let it show how much the words affected you.

But it wasn’t just Scott. Over the next few weeks, you found yourself pulled deeper into Remy’s world. His crew got used to seeing you around. Sometimes, when the bar was slow, one of them would buy you a drink, and they’d tell you stories about running jobs with Remy, about growing up in the streets of New Orleans, about the things they’d seen and done. It was a dangerous world, one you knew you should stay far away from, but with Remy there, it didn’t feel so dangerous. It felt… safe.

And that was the problem.

Because the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the way your feelings for him were growing. At first, you tried to convince yourself it was just a passing thing—that it was the thrill of being close to someone like him that made your heart race. But it wasn’t that simple. Remy had a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel like you were the only person in the room when he looked at you. And the more you got to know him—the real him, the one beneath all the charm and bravado—the harder it became to keep your walls up.

You tried to fight it. You told yourself that Remy was dangerous, that getting involved with him would only end in heartache. But every time he smiled at you, every time his voice curled around your name like it was something precious, you could feel yourself slipping further and further.

It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though that was part of it. Remy was magnetic, with that effortless charm and those eyes that seemed to see more than they should. But it was more than that. It was how he listened when you talked, how he remembered the little details of your life, how he seemed to actually care about who you were beyond the surface.

That night, as you sat across from Remy in the quiet of the empty bar, something shifted inside you.

It wasn’t a sudden revelation, or a flash of clarity that struck all at once. No, it was more subtle than that—like the slow turning of a key in a lock you hadn’t realized was there. It was in the way he looked at you, the softness in his eyes as he asked about your life, as though he genuinely cared about the things you said. It was in the way he listened, not just waiting for his turn to speak, but truly listening—something you hadn’t had from anyone in a long time.

You watched him, his long fingers tracing absent patterns on the bar, his dark eyes flicking toward the door and then back to you, and you felt something stir in your chest. It wasn’t new, not really. It had been building for weeks—maybe even since the first time you’d met him. But tonight, it was like the weight of it finally settled in, as if you could no longer pretend it wasn’t there.

As much as you had tried to keep your distance, to remind yourself who he was—what he was—you couldn’t deny it anymore. Somewhere along the way, you’d let him in.

And now, sitting there with him in the dim light of the bar, you realized just how deep those feelings ran.

It wasn’t just about the way he looked at you, though that certainly didn’t help. It was about the little moments, the ones you hadn’t even noticed at first. The way he’d show up at the bar on nights when you were working late, offering to walk you home even though you always declined. The way he’d ask if you’d eaten, or if you were getting enough sleep. They were small things, things you’d brushed off at the time, telling yourself he was just being Remy—charming, flirty, playing the role he always played. But now, looking back, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it. If maybe, just maybe, he cared more than you’d allowed yourself to believe.

“Y’ever think ‘bout what y’wanna do?” he’d asked you earlier, his voice quiet and serious in a way that made your heart ache. “Like, if y’weren’t here, behind this bar? What else would y’do?”

It wasn’t a question people usually asked you. Most of the time, people assumed this was it for you—that the bar was your life, and that was all there was to it. But Remy, as always, had a way of looking past the surface. He saw through the walls you’d built, through the armor you wore, and he didn’t just stop there. He wanted to know what was underneath.

And that scared you.

But you couldn’t stop it now. It was too late for that.

You leaned back in the booth, watching him as he sipped his drink, his eyes flicking back to meet yours every now and then, a small, easy smile playing on his lips. There was something so effortless about him—the way he moved, the way he spoke, like he didn’t have a care in the world. But tonight, you could see the cracks in that façade. The way his shoulders tensed just a little too much, the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, like he was searching for something he couldn’t quite find.

And that’s when it hit you.

You cared about him—really cared about him. More than you should. More than was probably safe. But you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You cared about Remy LeBeau.

You cared about the man who teased you with that lazy smile, who always seemed to know exactly what to say to get under your skin. The man who flirted like it was second nature but, when it came down to it, had moments of surprising vulnerability—moments where he let the mask slip, just enough for you to see the real him underneath.

You cared about the man who had put you in danger, yes—but who had also spent the last few weeks trying, in his own way, to make up for it. The man who, despite everything, had become a constant in your life. More than that, he had become someone you trusted, someone you wanted to trust, even if you knew you shouldn’t.

And as you sat across from him, the soft glow of the bar lights casting shadows across his face, you realized something else, too.

You weren’t just attracted to him. This wasn’t just some fleeting crush, some temporary infatuation that would burn out as quickly as it had sparked. No, this was something deeper. Something real.

And that terrified you.

Because Remy LeBeau was dangerous. Not just because of the life he led, but because of what he did to your heart. He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time—things you weren’t sure you wanted to feel. He made you hope. And hope was a dangerous thing, especially when it came to someone like him.

But it was too late to turn back now. You knew that.

You could feel it in the way your chest tightened every time he looked at you, in the way your pulse quickened whenever he got too close. You could feel it in the way you stayed up at night, replaying your conversations with him over and over in your mind, wondering what he really meant when he said certain things, wondering if he felt even a fraction of what you felt.

And tonight, as you sat there with him, the weight of your feelings finally settled in.

You were in deep. Maybe deeper than you’d ever been before.

And it wasn’t just Remy’s charm that had pulled you in, though that was certainly part of it. It was the way he saw you. The way he listened to you. The way he made you feel like you weren’t just some passing fling, some temporary distraction. He made you feel like you mattered—like you were someone worth knowing.

And that, more than anything, was what scared you.

Because you weren’t sure what to do with these feelings. You weren’t sure if you could do anything with them. Remy’s world was dangerous, unpredictable. And as much as you cared about him, you knew that getting too close to him could end badly. For both of you.

But as you sat there, watching him across the table, you knew one thing for certain:

You couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t care.

Because you did.

More than you’d ever expected.

And, for better or worse, there was no going back now. ~><><>~

The rain was coming down in thick, heavy sheets, the kind that seemed to turn the world blurry and soft around the edges. You stood next to Remy under the narrow awning of a corner shop, both of you pressed just close enough to avoid getting soaked, though the occasional gust of wind sent a spray of droplets against your skin. The street in front of you was deserted, the usual hustle of the city quieted by the storm, leaving only the rhythmic sound of water hitting pavement.

“You always bring the good weather, LeBeau?” you teased, glancing over at him with a smirk.

He grinned, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “Ain’t my fault, cher. New Orleans just likes t’keep us on our toes.”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “Yeah, well, if I catch a cold, I’m blaming you.”

“Ah, non,” he said, his grin widening, that familiar playful spark lighting up his eyes. “Y’know what they say—rain’s just a blessin’. Keeps the city alive. Besides, thought you’d be tougher than t’let a lil’ water scare ya.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not the water. It’s the thought of being stuck inside for three days with a fever ‘cause you decided to show up at the worst possible time.”

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt a flutter in your chest that you quickly tried to ignore. “Ain’t no such thing as a bad time when y’runnin’ into me,” he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping into that familiar lazy drawl. “I’d say y’just lucky, cher.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression neutral even as your heart skipped a beat. “Lucky, huh?”

He shot you a wink. “Always.”

It was that damn grin of his, sharp and disarming, the kind that made it impossible not to smile back, even when you were trying to pretend you weren’t charmed. You shook your head, glancing back out at the street as the rain continued to pour down in fat, heavy droplets.

You hadn’t planned to run into him today. You’d been on your way out of a small café, your hands wrapped around a to-go cup, the smell of fresh coffee still lingering in the air, when you’d bumped right into Remy as he turned the corner.

“Y’gotta be followin’ me, cher,” he’d said, that teasing lilt in his voice as he flashed you a grin. “Can’t stay away, can ya?”

You’d scoffed, brushing it off with a roll of your eyes. “Trust me, LeBeau, if I was following you, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Ah, so y’got skills,” he’d shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I like that.”

You’d ended up standing there chatting for a few minutes, just catching up, when the first fat drops of rain had started falling, quickly turning into the downpour that had sent the two of you scrambling for cover under the awning.

Now, as the rain started to ease up just slightly, you could feel the tension of the moment settling into something more comfortable. The kind of moment where neither of you had anywhere else to be, and the city felt just a little quieter, just a little smaller, with only the two of you standing here, waiting out the storm together.

Remy shifted beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he glanced up at the sky. “Looks like it’s lettin’ up,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “Might be able t’get outta here before we drown.”

You nodded, though you didn’t make any move to leave the shelter of the awning just yet. Instead, you watched as the rain slowed to a steady drizzle, the fat droplets turning into a fine mist that blurred the edges of the lamplights on the street.

After a beat of silence, Remy turned to you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with that easy smile of his, he tilted his head toward the street. “Y’wanna go for a walk, cher? Ain’t too far to the river from here.”

His question caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why. You blinked, looking up at him as if to make sure you’d heard him right.

“A walk?” you echoed, your voice tinged with surprise.

He nodded, his smile softening just a little. “Yeah. Ain’t no rush t’be anywhere, right? Figured we could take the long way ‘round.”

You hesitated for a second, the weight of his words settling between you. There was something about the way he asked, something quieter, more earnest. It wasn’t the usual playful banter, the flirtatious teasing that you’d come to expect from him. It was softer, like he was offering more than just a walk. Like he was offering a moment—something real, something that wasn’t wrapped up in the games you’d both been playing for so long.

And in that moment, you found that you didn’t want to say no.

You glanced back out at the street, the rain now barely more than a light drizzle, then back at him. “Alright,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A walk sounds good.”

Remy’s grin widened just slightly, something almost satisfied flickering in his eyes as he stepped out from under the awning and into the street. “C’mon, then, cher,” he said, holding out his hand with a dramatic flourish. “Let’s see if we can’t dodge the rest of the rain.”

You shook your head, laughing as you stepped out to join him, your hands tucked into your pockets to ward off the chill. As the two of you started walking down the damp street, the soft patter of rain falling around you, you couldn’t help but feel the quiet weight of the moment settling in. Something about it felt different—more real, more grounded. It was just you and him, walking side by side in the fading rain, no games, no pretense.

And for once, you weren’t thinking about where this was headed, or what it meant, or whether you should keep your distance The rain had eased into a soft drizzle, hardly more than a mist now, just enough to make the air feel cool and heavy with the scent of damp streets and wet earth. You and Remy walked side by side, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly on the slick pavement. The city felt quieter at this hour, the usual buzz of New Orleans muted by the rain and the lateness of the evening.

For a while, the two of you just walked in comfortable silence, the easy rhythm of the night settling between you. Every now and then, you’d glance over at him, catching the way the dim streetlights flickered across his face, casting shadows over his sharp jawline and the soft curve of his mouth. He looked different like this—less guarded, maybe. More real. Like the Remy you knew was still there, but with the edges smoothed out by the quiet of the night.

As you passed by the iron-wrought gates of a small courtyard, the sound of distant music floated through the air—somewhere, a lone saxophone player was working through a slow, mournful tune. It made the moment feel even more surreal, like the city itself was leaning in, listening.

You glanced at him again, the question burning at the back of your mind, one you hadn’t really asked before. “So,” you began, your voice soft, careful not to break the moment too sharply, “what’s your life like outside of all this?”

Remy’s eyes flicked to you, his expression unreadable for just a moment before he looked ahead again, his lips pulling into a small, almost cautious smile. “Outside of all this?” he repeated, his voice carrying that familiar Cajun drawl, but there was something else in it now—something more distant, guarded. “What y’mean by that, cher?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light, though you knew the question held more weight than you were letting on. “I mean, I see you here, running with your crew, always in the middle of some hustle or another. But… what do you do when you’re not doing that? What’s the rest of your life like?”

There was a beat of silence, the sound of the rain almost deafening in its stillness as you waited for his response. Remy’s eyes narrowed slightly, the grin on his face softening, but not disappearing entirely. He reached up, scratching at the back of his neck as he let out a low chuckle.

“Ah, cher,” he said finally, his voice smooth but evasive, “ain’t much to tell, really. Y’know how it is—dis an’ dat, keepin’ busy.” He waved a hand vaguely, as if to brush off the question, his eyes flicking to the ground in front of him. “Ain’t nothin’ too excitin’ outside what y’see.”

You frowned slightly, knowing that wasn’t the full truth. Remy was always good at dodging questions, at keeping people at arm’s length with a smile and a joke. But something about tonight—about the way he’d asked you to walk with him, about the softness in his voice just now—made you want to push a little further. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know him.

“C’mon, LeBeau,” you said, your voice gentle but persistent. “I’m not asking for your deepest, darkest secrets. I just… I don’t know. I wanna know about you. What do you do when you’re not playing the role of Remy LeBeau, the charming rogue?”

Remy’s steps slowed slightly, and you could see the tension ripple through his shoulders, though he kept his expression casual. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips but not quite reaching his eyes.

“Y’don’t let up, do ya?” he said, his voice laced with amusement, though there was something guarded behind his words.

You shrugged, offering him a small smile of your own. “Not when I’m curious, no.”

He let out another soft chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s dangerous, y’know. Curiosity like that. Could get y’into trouble.”

“I’ve already got you in my life, LeBeau,” you said, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “I think I’m already in trouble.”

That earned you a real laugh, low and warm, and for a second, the tension in his posture eased. But when he spoke again, there was a weight to his words, something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“Truth is, cher,” he said, his voice quieter now, “this is the life. Ain’t much outside of it. Always been like that.”

You frowned, glancing up at him, catching the way his eyes seemed to cloud over, staring ahead but not really seeing the street in front of him. There was something in his tone—something almost resigned, like he’d accepted that this was all there was for him. “Always?” you asked softly.

He gave a small nod, his smile turning a little more bitter around the edges. “Always. Grew up rough, y’know? Ain’t a sob story or nothin’, just de way it is. Y’learn early how t’get by, how t’look out for y’self. Got good at it, too.” He paused, his eyes flicking toward the river in the distance. “This city? She’s always been home, but she ain’t always been kind.”

You could hear the truth in his words, the weight of years spent surviving in a world that didn’t offer much in return. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You’d always known that Remy’s life was complicated, that he wasn’t just the smooth-talking charmer people saw on the surface. But hearing him talk about it, even in these vague terms, made it feel more real. More raw.

“What about now?” you asked gently, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Is it still like that?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes still fixed ahead, his jaw tight. Then, finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping just slightly.

“Maybe not,” he admitted quietly, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Things change, I guess. People change.” He glanced at you then, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again. “But it’s hard t’leave behind what y’know, y’know? Even if y’want somethin’ different.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest at his words, the weight of them settling between you like something unspoken. You wanted to reach out, to tell him that he didn’t have to keep living like this, that there was more to life than just surviving. But you knew Remy too well to think that would be enough. He didn’t trust easily, and even now, even after everything, you weren’t sure if he’d ever truly let you in.

But you wanted to try.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that forever,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He glanced at you again, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer this time, and you thought you saw something flicker in them—something hopeful, maybe. Or maybe you were just imagining it.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, though there was a hesitation in his voice, like he wasn’t quite ready to believe it.

You walked in silence for a while after that, the rain now little more than a light mist, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging between you, but for once, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt like something had shifted, like maybe, just maybe, you’d gotten a little closer to the real Remy—the one who hid behind the charm and the grins, the one who didn’t let people in easily.

And as you walked beside him, your hands brushing lightly every now and then, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was starting to let you in. <><><><><><> As you and Remy strolled down the bustling main street, it took you a moment to notice the shift. Something in the air had changed, the atmosphere thickening with a tension that hadn’t been there before. People moved past you, their umbrellas dripping from the earlier rain, but your focus was drawn entirely to him. His jaw clenched, then unclenched, and the easy, relaxed aura he usually wore like a second skin coiled into something sharper, more alert. A quiet alarm went off in your mind, subtle but insistent.

You followed his gaze, your eyes quickly zeroing in on two men standing up the street, leaning casually against the brick wall of a shop. They looked too comfortable, their postures intentionally loose, but their eyes scanned the passing crowd with a practiced detachment that churned your stomach. You didn’t know them, but you knew their type. The kind of people Remy always tried—unsuccessfully—to keep you away from.

His voice came low, cutting through the ambient noise of the street. “Do me a favor, chère,” he said, his usual warmth replaced by something cooler, more calculated. “Wait here.”

He didn’t meet your eyes when he spoke. His attention was locked on the men ahead, his focus dialed in with a predator’s precision. The playful charm he carried so effortlessly had slipped, and in its place was something harder, something dangerous—something that always made your breath catch in your throat.

You hesitated, your feet refusing to move as you watched him stride forward, his long legs eating up the distance with a calm confidence that made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t explain. Your mind raced, scattering in a thousand directions at once. You knew Remy’s world. You weren’t naïve. You’d seen glimpses of it in the shadows where he operated, in the silences he never filled with explanations. But seeing it unfold out here, in broad daylight, was different. It felt more real. More dangerous.

The two men straightened as Remy approached, their thin veneer of nonchalance cracking just enough to reveal the tension underneath. You couldn’t hear what was said, but the interaction was too fast, too smooth. One of the men extended his hand, the motion disguised as a handshake, but you didn’t miss the small, hard object that passed between them. It fit easily into Remy’s palm, and the man’s eyes flickered nervously up and down the street, his posture twitchy as though he was waiting for something to go wrong.

Your stomach dropped. You knew this routine. You’d seen it before—small moments, brief exchanges that reminded you of the parts of Remy’s life he never let you into. Just when you’d started to believe in the man who laughed with you over stolen pastries and kissed rain off your skin, reality would come crashing down. A lingering glance from a stranger, a name dropped in passing, or, like now, what was unmistakably a deal, done right there in the open.

The sadness that washed over you was unexpected, bitter and thick. It was one thing to know—in an abstract, distant way—that he was tied to this world. But it was another thing entirely to see it, to watch him slip so easily into a role you wanted to pretend didn’t exist. A role that felt foreign, dangerous—a role you didn’t belong in. And maybe, you thought with a sinking realization, you never would.

You tried to shake the feeling, but it clung to you, heavy and unwelcome.

Remy turned back toward you, his face unreadable as he sauntered over, slipping whatever had just changed hands into his jacket pocket with an ease that made your heart ache. His footsteps were soft against the wet pavement, but the weight of the moment pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice casual, too casual. “Had t’ take care of somethin’.”

You stared up at him, your eyes searching his face for something—an explanation, a flicker of remorse, anything to make this feel less like a betrayal. But his expression was smooth, guarded. The easy smile was back, the one that never quite reached his eyes, and it made you feel hollow.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue. You told yourself you didn’t want an explanation, but the truth was, you did. You wanted him to open up, to tell you what had just happened, to let you in for once.

But you knew he wouldn’t.

Remy’s smile faltered for just a second, and you almost thought—hoped—that he could see the hurt in your eyes. That maybe, this time, he’d say something to make it better. But instead, he just shrugged, his hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced away, as if the whole thing didn’t matter.

As if you didn’t matter.

The knot in your stomach tightened, the weight of your own disappointment settling over you like a shroud. This was always how it went, wasn’t it? Every time you thought you were getting closer, that maybe you could be a part of his world, something like this would happen. Something that reminded you of the distance between you, of the walls he kept firmly in place.

“Let’s go,” Remy said lightly, as though nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just left you standing there, watching him slip further into a world you couldn’t follow.

You nodded, throat tight, and fell into step beside him. The street buzzed with life, people brushing past with umbrellas and shopping bags, conversations floating in the air. But all you could hear was the echo of your own thoughts, the same question repeating over and over again:

How long are you going to keep doing this?

How long could you keep pretending that you were okay with the secrets, the danger, with the way Remy always kept you at arm’s length? How long could you chase after someone who lived in the shadows, someone who would never fully be yours?

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye as you walked. He was quiet now, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by the easygoing demeanor that had drawn you to him in the first place. But now, that charm felt hollow, like a mask you’d seen too many times to believe in anymore.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t shake the pull you felt toward him. The way your heart still ached for him, even when you knew you shouldn’t. Even when you knew that this—whatever this was—would never be enough.

But you weren’t ready to let go. Not yet.

So, you walked beside him, your heart heavy with everything left unsaid, everything unresolved. You tried to push it down, to ignore the questions swirling in your mind, but they wouldn’t go away.

How long could you live like this—on the periphery of someone else’s life?

“I can walk ya home,” Remy offered suddenly, his voice softer, as if that slight change in tone could smooth over the rough edges of what had just happened.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, it’s fine. I’m just a few blocks away.”

You knew you weren’t fooling either of you. But the truth was, you needed space. You needed to clear your head, to remind yourself that this was the life Remy lived. The life he chose to live. And as much as you were drawn to him, moments like this made it impossible to forget that there were parts of him you would never reach.

Remy opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but then something shifted in his expression. His body tensed, his gaze flicking up and down the street with a sudden, sharp urgency.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, too low for you to fully make out.

Before you could ask what was happening, before you could process the change in his demeanor, he was already moving. His hand slipped into his jacket, and when he turned back to you, his face was tight with something you couldn’t quite read—regret, maybe? Desperation?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough. And before you could ask him why, before you could even begin to react, his hands were on your face, pulling you toward him.

When Remy’s hands cupped your face, pulling you toward him, time seemed to slow. For a split second, your mind couldn’t process what was happening. His lips collided with yours in a rush of heat and urgency, and the world around you—the crowded street, the hum of people passing by, the distant echo of car horns—faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment that felt both inevitable and wrong.

Your body stiffened at first, instinctively resisting the sudden intimacy. This wasn’t how you imagined it would happen. You had pictured this kiss before—how could you not? It had been lurking in the spaces between you for months, in the way he looked at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, in the flirtatious remarks that always seemed to hover on the edge of something more. But not like this. Not now, not here. The timing was all wrong. The kiss was all wrong.

And yet, as his lips pressed harder against yours, something inside you began to unravel. Despite the wrongness of the situation, despite the alarms blaring in the back of your mind, you slowly gave in. You felt your body soften, your hands tentatively reaching up to grasp his jacket, holding on to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. The warmth of his mouth, the roughness of his stubble brushing against your skin, the way his fingers tightened slightly on your cheeks—it all stirred up feelings you had buried, feelings you had told yourself you wouldn’t let surface.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a release. All the tension, all the unspoken words, all the moments you’d shared that had felt like more than friendship, all of it was spilling into this kiss. For a brief second, you let yourself believe that this was real. That maybe, just maybe, this was him finally letting you in. Finally showing you that you meant something more.

But there was something off. Beneath the heat of the kiss, beneath the press of his lips, there was a desperation that unsettled you. His hands, usually so playful and teasing, were trembling slightly. His kiss wasn’t just passionate—it was hurried, almost frantic, like he was trying to lose himself in it. Like he was trying to distract you. And that’s when the unease returned, creeping up your spine like a cold, unwelcome shadow.

You tried to pull back, to find some clarity, but then his tongue brushed against your lips, urging them open. Without thinking, you complied, letting him in, deepening the kiss. But the moment you did, something hard and foreign slipped into your mouth.

It took you a second to process what had just happened. Your lips were still on his, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, but your mind was already racing. The tiny object sat heavy on your tongue, unfamiliar and unwelcome, and you froze, every nerve in your body going rigid.

Suddenly, the kiss didn’t feel like a kiss anymore.  It felt like a transaction. Like a betrayal.

Remy pulled away slowly, his lips lingering for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if he could erase what he had just done. As if he could make you forget the cold, hard truth of the tiny plastic package now sitting in your mouth.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a sickening realization settling over you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You stared at him, wide-eyed, searching his face for some kind of explanation, some kind of reassurance that this wasn’t what you thought it was. But his expression was calm, too calm, his eyes guarded. And that easy smile—the one you’d fallen for, the one that had always made you feel safe—was back on his lips, but now it felt like a mask. A mask that hid everything you didn’t want to see.

Your chest ached with the weight of it all. The kiss, the deal, the package on your tongue—it was all too much, too fast. You wanted to spit the package out, to scream at him, to demand an explanation. But before you could, the sound of a car pulling up broke through the haze of your thoughts.

A police car.

The lights flashed, and suddenly, the world around you snapped back into focus. The street, the people, the sounds—they all came rushing back, and you realized just how precarious this moment was. You stood there, frozen, your heart hammering in your chest, the tiny package still on your tongue, like a ticking time bomb.

Remy turned to face the approaching officers, his posture relaxed, as if nothing unusual had just happened. His lips curled into that smooth, disarming smile that had gotten him out of so many situations before. But this time, that smile made your stomach turn.

“Afternoon, officers,” he greeted, his voice as casual as ever, though you could hear the edge beneath it. The tension he was trying so hard to hide.

You stood there, your mind reeling, the weight of the kiss still lingering on your lips, the weight of the package pressing down on your conscience.

And in that moment, you realized something that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the danger you were in.

The kiss—the kiss you had been waiting for, the kiss that had felt like a promise—had been nothing more than a cover.

A way to hide the truth. A way to use you.

As soon as the police car disappeared down the street, leaving behind the lingering tension of what had almost happened, you felt an overwhelming wave of emotion crash over you. It wasn’t just anger—it was betrayal, disappointment, and that deep, aching sadness that came when you realized you had been fooling yourself all along.

You spat the package into your hand with a sharp motion, the small, cold object a bitter reminder of how easily Remy had pulled you into his game. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand—his stupid, charming hand that had always been so quick to pull you into trouble—and shoved the package back into his palm. The force behind the gesture wasn’t just about the package; it was about everything. It was about him. It was about what you thought you’d meant to him.

Remy’s fingers curled around the package as if it were just another part of the job, but his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Guilt? It didn’t matter anymore. You were done trying to decipher the emotions he so carefully hid behind that charming grin.

“Don’t you ever pull that bullshit with me again,” you spat, your voice shaking as you fought to keep your emotions in check. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your chest tight with the weight of everything you were holding back. “I’m not one of your lackeys, Remy. I’m not one of your anything.”

The words came out sharper than you meant, but you didn’t care. You wanted them to hurt. You wanted him to feel the sting of it the way you had felt the sting of his betrayal, the way you had felt the weight of that package pressing down on your conscience. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they weren’t just for him. They were for you. A reminder, a painful, bitter reminder, that no matter how much you might have wanted to be something more to him, you weren’t. You were just another pawn in whatever game Remy was playing.

Remy’s expression faltered for a second—just a second—and you saw something flicker across his face, something raw and real. His eyes darkened, the playful light that usually danced there replaced with something heavier, something that looked like regret. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, his face slipping back into that carefully crafted mask of indifference.

You couldn’t stop yourself. You weren’t done.

“I thought—” The words caught in your throat, sharp and jagged, refusing to come out. You swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump that had formed, but it was useless. What had you thought? That you were different? That you meant something more to him than all the others? That maybe, just maybe, this time, you weren’t just another convenient piece in his world of schemes and lies?

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t let yourself be that vulnerable, not with him standing there, looking at you with those eyes that were so good at pretending to care. Because if you said it—if you let those words out—it would mean admitting just how much you had let yourself hope. And that would hurt more than anything.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. You could feel the weight of everything you weren’t saying pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You saw the way Remy’s lips parted, like he wanted to say something, to explain, to make it better. But no words came. He just stood there, holding that damn package like it wasn’t a symbol of everything that was wrong between you.

“I’m sorry, chère,” he said again, his voice low, rough. There was something in his tone that made your chest tighten—something that sounded like he meant it. But apologies weren’t enough. Not this time. Not after what he had done.

You shook your head, stepping back, putting more distance between the two of you. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Remy,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “You didn’t give a shit if those cops had searched us, did you?”

He flinched at your words, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his brows furrowed. “They wouldn’t have,” he said, his voice firm, like that was supposed to make everything okay. Like his confidence in his own ability to manipulate the situation was supposed to erase the risk he had put you in. But it didn’t. It only made you angrier.

“You didn’t know that!” you shouted, the frustration and fear bubbling up inside you, spilling out in a sharp, angry burst. “You didn’t know what could’ve happened. But you didn’t care, did you? You just did what you always do—look out for yourself.”

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and sharp, and you saw the way it hit him. His face tightened, his posture stiffening as something dark flashed across his features. For a moment, you thought he was going to argue, to fight back, to tell you that you were wrong. That he did care. That he wasn’t just using you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite place—something that looked like pain.

And that hurt more than anything. Because part of you wanted him to fight back. Part of you wanted him to tell you that you were wrong, that you did mean something to him. That this wasn’t just another game to him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“You’re Remy LeBeau,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less resolute. “You don’t care about people unless it benefits you. You only look out for yourself. And I—” You faltered, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of your own words settled over you, heavy and final. “And I was stupid to think I could be anything more than just another person you used.”

Remy’s expression twisted at your words, something close to hurt flashing across his face before he quickly masked it. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for you, to pull you back, to make you stay. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his silence louder than any argument he could have made.

“Y’ wrong, chère,” he said quietly, his voice raw, stripped of the usual bravado. “Y’ not jus’ someone I use.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, your chest aching. His words should have meant something, but they didn’t. Not anymore. Not after everything he had done.

“Then prove it,” you whispered, the plea slipping out before you could stop it. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort to salvage something from the wreckage of whatever this was between you. You wanted him to prove you wrong, to show you that you weren’t just another pawn in his game. You wanted him to fight for you.

But he didn’t.

Remy’s eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stood there, his silence speaking louder than any words ever could. He wasn’t going to fight for you. He wasn’t going to prove you wrong. Because deep down, you both knew the truth.

You nodded, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill. “That’s what I thought.”

You stood there, the tension between you and Remy almost unbearable, like a thread stretched too tight, ready to snap. The weight of everything that had just happened pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You had said what you needed to say, laid it all bare in front of him, and now… now you just needed to go.

But something held you in place. A quiet, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d say something. That he’d finally drop the walls he’d built around himself and give you a reason to stay. You held onto the silence, giving him the space to speak, to fight for this—for you.

But Remy said nothing.

He just stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite read. Regret, maybe? Guilt? Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.

Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity, and still, he stayed silent. You felt your chest tighten, the familiar sting of disappointment settling in. What had you really expected? You had known Remy for long enough to know that this was how he operated—always keeping people at arm’s length, always hiding behind that devil-may-care grin and his smooth, careless charm. But still, you’d hoped.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t keep waiting for him to be something he wasn’t. Something he wasn’t capable of being.

“I need to go,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words felt heavy—final.

Still, he said nothing.

You took a step back, your feet feeling heavy, like they were resisting the idea of actually leaving. You had given him a chance to say something, anything that might fix this. But he hadn’t taken it. And that hurt more than you wanted to admit. You had been waiting for him to fight for you, to show you that there was something real between you. But all he’d done was stand there, silent, letting the distance between you grow wider and wider.

You exhaled, the breath shaky as you tried to steady yourself, tried to push past the ache in your chest. You couldn’t leave without one more truth, though. One more thing that needed to be said because you couldn’t keep pretending that he was something more than what he was.

“You know,” you began, your voice quiet but steady, “everyone in this city thinks you’re some dangerous mobster. The great Remy LeBeau. The one who can charm his way out of anything, who’s always two steps ahead. The one with all the answers, all the power.”

You saw him stiffen slightly at your words, but he didn’t look up, didn’t meet your eyes. You took another step back, your voice gaining strength as you let the truth spill out.

“But the reality is… you’re just a coward, Remy.”

His head snapped up at that, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he still said nothing. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t try to argue.

You felt a surge of something—anger, frustration, maybe even pity—rise up inside you as you looked at him, standing there with all his walls still firmly in place, refusing to let anyone in. The Remy LeBeau who terrified half the city, the one who could manipulate and charm his way through any situation, was nothing more than a scared little boy hiding behind his bravado.

“You’re scared,” you continued, your voice soft but cutting. “Scared that you might actually feel something real. That maybe, if you let yourself care, if you let someone in, it’ll make you vulnerable. And God forbid Remy LeBeau ever lets himself be vulnerable.”

He flinched at that, just barely, but it was enough. For the first time, you saw a crack in his carefully constructed mask. His eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, you thought he might finally say something—that he might fight back, argue, try to prove you wrong. But just as quickly as the crack appeared, it was gone, his face hardening into that familiar expression of indifference.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as the finality of it all settled over you. “But you know what, Remy? That’s your problem. Not mine. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to be a person.”

His eyes flickered, something raw and wounded flashing across his face, but still, he stayed quiet.

The silence between you was deafening. You realized then that this was it. That no matter how much you had wanted him to be more, to be someone who could care, he wasn’t going to change. Not for you. Not for anyone.

You turned away, your heart heavy but resolute. You had given him enough chances. More than he deserved. And he hadn’t taken a single one.

“I hope you figure it out someday,” you said softly, your back to him now. “But I can’t wait for that day to come.”

And with that, you walked away.

This time, you didn’t look back. You didn’t falter. You didn’t give him another chance to pull you back into his web of half-truths and charm.

Because the truth was, Remy LeBeau might have been a lot of things—a thief, a charmer, a manipulator—but in the end, he was just a man too scared to let himself feel anything real.

And you couldn’t save him from that.

As you walked down the street, the sounds of the city slowly coming back into focus, you felt a strange sense of relief wash over you. It wasn’t the kind of relief that came with peace, but the kind that came with knowing you had done everything you could. That you had given him every chance to be something more.

But he hadn’t taken it.

And now, it was time to let go.

Behind you, Remy stood in the same spot, his hand still clenched around the package you had shoved into it. The words you had thrown at him echoed in his mind, cutting deeper than any insult or wound he’d ever received.

You were wrong, he told himself.

But the ache in his chest told him that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

And that terrified him more than anything else in the world. <><><><><><>

As you rounded the corner, your heart ached with the weight of everything that had just happened. You had known, deep down, that this was how it would end. That Remy was never going to be the person you wanted him to be. That his world was one of shadows and secrets, and no matter how much you might have tried to ignore it, you couldn’t escape the truth of who he was.

And yet, it hurt. It hurt more than you ever thought it would. Because for all the ways you had tried to protect yourself, for all the times you had told yourself not to get too close, you had let yourself hope. You had let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you were different to him.

But you weren’t.

As you walked, the city seemed to blur around you, the sounds of traffic and distant conversation muffled by the pounding of your own heart. Your mind raced, replaying the scene over and over again, as if trying to make sense of it, trying to find some explanation for why it had hurt so much.

But there was no explaining it. No justifying it.

You had let yourself care about someone who couldn’t care about you in the same way. And now, you were paying the price.

The worst part was, you weren’t even sure if you were angrier at Remy or at yourself. Because despite everything, despite what had just happened, part of you still wanted to believe that he cared. Part of you still wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, there had been something real between you.

But that part of you was wrong.

As you moved through the streets, your feet carrying you forward almost on autopilot, your thoughts kept spiraling back to the same painful truth: Remy LeBeau didn’t belong to anyone. He belonged to the shadows, to the streets, to the cons and the schemes that kept him one step ahead of the world. And you? You were just another stop along the way, another temporary distraction from whatever game he was playing.

You had tried to be different. You had tried to be the exception. But maybe that was the problem—thinking you could somehow pull him out of that darkness when he had chosen it. He thrived in it. It was his comfort, his shield, the only thing that kept him from having to deal with the real, messy parts of life. The parts that required vulnerability, honesty, and trust.

And you had been foolish enough to think you could change that.

The memory of his touch lingered, burning against your skin like a brand. The way his fingers had brushed against yours, the heat of his palm as you shoved the package back at him. The way his lips had parted, like he was going to say something—something that could have made it all make sense—but then he hadn’t. He had chosen silence. He had chosen the easy way out, just like he always did.

And you? You had stood there, waiting for something that was never going to come.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you crossed the street, dodging a group of tourists who barely noticed you. You almost couldn’t believe how naive you had been. How, even after everything you had seen, after all the times he had pulled you into the chaos of his life, you had still believed in him. Still believed in the possibility that he could be more than the charming thief with a devil-may-care grin and a heart full of secrets.

But that was the thing about hope, wasn’t it? It didn’t care about reality. It didn’t care about the facts staring you in the face. It just kept pushing you forward, whispering maybe, even when you knew better.

You shook your head, trying to clear the thoughts that were swirling in your mind, but it was no use. Remy had gotten under your skin in a way you hadn’t expected, in a way you hadn’t wanted to admit until now. And now that you were finally confronting it, now that you were staring down the cold, hard truth of it, you didn’t know what to do with all the feelings that were left behind.

Was it anger? Was it heartbreak? Or was it something else, something more complicated and twisted, something that you didn’t even want to acknowledge?

The truth was, you felt stupid. Stupid for thinking you could be the one to change him. Stupid for letting yourself fall for someone who had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t going to stick around. That he wasn’t going to choose you.

Because that’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? Choices.

Remy had made his choice. He had chosen the life he lived, the risks he took, the secrets he kept. And he had chosen to keep you at arm’s length, even when he had pulled you in close enough to make you think you mattered. He had chosen to use you when it suited him, to kiss you when it was convenient, to pass off his problems like they were yours to carry.

And you? You had chosen to let him.

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of that realization hitting you like a punch to the gut. You had let him do this to you. You had allowed yourself to get caught up in his world, to believe in the possibility of something more, when deep down, you had known it was never going to happen.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Not because of what Remy had done, but because of what you had done. You had let yourself hope. You had let yourself believe in something that wasn’t real.

And now, you were the one left to pick up the pieces.

As the sun stood directly above you, casting long shadows on the pavement, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. A part of you wanted to turn back, to find Remy and demand answers. To make him explain why he had kissed you like that, why he had used you in that moment, why he had let you believe there was something more between you.

But you knew better.

Remy wouldn’t give you the answers you were looking for. He couldn’t. Because that would require him to face something he wasn’t ready to face—something he might never be ready to face.

The truth was, Remy was always going to be Remy. He was always going to keep one foot in the shadows, always going to walk the line between right and wrong, between loyalty and self-preservation. And you? You were always going to be left standing in the light, waiting for him to come out of the darkness.

But he wasn’t going to. Not for you. Not for anyone.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides as you tried to steady yourself. The ache in your chest hadn’t gone away, but it had shifted. It wasn’t just about Remy anymore. It was about you, about the choices you had made, the risks you had taken with your heart. And now, you had to face the consequences.

As you walked further away from him, from the scene that had left you feeling so raw and exposed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever stop hoping.

Because that was the hardest part, wasn’t it? Letting go of the hope that things could be different. Letting go of the idea that maybe, just maybe, Remy could be someone else. Someone who chose you.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

You couldn’t change him. And you couldn’t keep hoping that someday he would change for you.

So you kept walking, your heart heavy, your mind still reeling from everything that had happened. And with every step you took, you tried to let go. Let go of the hope, let go of the feelings, let go of the part of you that had wanted so badly to believe in something that was never real.

But as much as you tried, you knew it would take time. You knew that Remy had left a mark on you—a mark that wouldn’t fade easily.

And maybe, you thought as you wiped away the tears that had begun to fall, maybe that was the most painful truth of all. <><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Jean and Scott lounged in the sprawling living room of the large penthouse, the gentle patter of raindrops against the large windows filling the silence. Outside, the world was grey and quiet, the storm clouds hanging low over the horizon, making the sun which had earlier offered some relief vanish. Between the two of them, the soft glow of a laptop screen reflected off their faces, casting a pale light in the otherwise dim room. Spreadsheets of numbers and transactions filled the screen—more of the tedious but necessary work of managing the financials, including the delicate balance of laundering funds through their various legitimate businesses.

They worked in comfortable silence, the kind that came from years of shared experience, when the door to the living room suddenly flew open. Remy stormed in, his usual swagger replaced by something sharper, more urgent. His boots clapped against the hardwood floor with a rapid rhythm, his movements quick and uncharacteristically careless. He barely glanced at Jean and Scott, offering a nod that was more reflex than acknowledgment.

"Remy?" Jean called out, her voice laced with concern, but he was already halfway down the hall, ignoring her as he disappeared toward his room.

Scott and Jean exchanged a look, worry flickering between them. It wasn’t like Remy to be abrupt—not with them. His usual easygoing charm and playful demeanor were nowhere to be found. The sudden shift in his energy, the storm that seemed to be brewing inside him, was enough to make them both abandon their work. Rising from the couch, they followed him quietly, their footsteps soft but filled with the weight of unspoken questions.

They found him in his walk-in wardrobe, kneeling on the floor beneath rows of neatly hung suits and ties. His hands moved with frantic energy, punching in the familiar code to the safe bolted down to the floor. The soft beep of the lock disengaging echoed in the small space, followed by the heavy, metallic sound as the door swung open.

Jean and Scott hovered in the doorway, watching as Remy began pulling the contents of the safe out with a feverish intensity. Cash, jewelry, passports, documents—everything important to him was kept in that safe, and now he was emptying it like someone in a panic, someone who thought they were running out of time.

Scott took a step forward, his voice calm but firm. "Remy, what’s going on?"

Remy didn’t answer immediately. His hands kept moving, sifting through the items as if searching for something specific, something that he needed more than anything else in that moment. His breathing was uneven, and his usually steady hands trembled slightly as they moved.

Then, suddenly, his hands stilled. He slowly picked up the small velvet ring box, opening it to make sure it’s contents were there, still safe. Once that was confirmed he picked up the item it was sitting below it.

Remy sat frozen in the dim light of his wardrobe, the worn leather photo album clutched tightly in his hands. The storm outside seemed to echo the turmoil inside him, the rain hitting the windows in a rhythmic patter that almost matched the frantic beat of his heart. He stared blankly at the album, his mind awash in memories he had long since buried, and yet, today they felt as raw and fresh as the day they were made.

He hadn’t even realized how tight his chest felt until he had heard your voice in his head again, that final parting shot you had thrown at him before walking away.

"You’re just a coward, Remy. You’re scared that you might actually feel something real."

The words had cut deeper than he had let you see. They had pierced right through the carefully constructed armor he wore every day—the charm, the swagger, the devil-may-care attitude. Beneath it all, you had seen him for what he truly was: someone who was terrified of vulnerability, of letting anyone in far enough to actually hurt him.

And now you were gone.

Scott’s voice had been steady, but Remy barely registered it. He was lost in the memory of your eyes, the way they had burned with frustration, with disappointment, with a pain that he had caused. He had seen it all, and it had shaken him in a way that nothing else ever had. Not even the risks, the jobs, the deals that could have cost him his life had stirred this kind of fear in him.

This was different. This was real.

He had been standing at the edge of something—something he didn’t fully understand, but something he craved more than he was willing to admit. And now, with the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him, he felt like he was about to lose his chance to understand it at all.

Scott stepped forward again, his voice breaking through the haze of Remy’s thoughts. “Remy, are you sure this is the right way to fix things?”

Remy’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the edges of the album. He didn’t answer right away, couldn’t answer right away. His mind was too busy replaying the moment when you had shoved the package back into his hand, the look in your eyes when you had realized what he had done. And then your words—those words that had lodged themselves in his chest like a knife.

He had never felt so powerless. He had charm, wit, and all the tricks in the world at his disposal, but none of them could fix what had happened between you. None of them could undo the damage he had caused by hiding behind his walls, by refusing to let you in when it mattered most.

“I screwed up,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. The Cajun accent, usually smooth and lazy, was rough around the edges, like he was barely holding himself together. “An’ this… this is the only way I know how t’ fix it.”

Jean stepped into the room, her soft eyes full of concern. “Remy, are you sure showing her this is the answer?”

Her voice wasn’t accusing—just gentle, as if she understood the weight of what he was about to do. Remy nodded shakily, his gaze still fixed on the album. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of how much time was slipping away. He had to show you. He had to make you understand.

Because if he didn’t, if he let you walk away thinking he didn’t care, thinking he was just another selfish, heartless crook… he didn’t know if he could live with that.

“I need her t’ know,” he said, his voice cracking with the intensity of his emotions. “She ain’t jus’ anyone t’ me. I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I care.”

The words felt like they weren’t enough, but they were all he had. He had never been good at this—at opening up, at letting people see the pieces of him that weren’t polished, that weren’t pretty. But you had seen through him anyway. You had seen the fear beneath the bravado. And now, standing here, holding onto the one thing that might help him show you the truth, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had in his life.

Scott’s voice broke through again, softer this time. “What if it’s not enough, Remy?”

Remy’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have an answer to that. He didn’t know if showing you the album, if letting you see the things he had kept hidden from the world, would be enough to fix what was broken between you. But he had to try.  He had to.

“It’s gotta be,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s all I got ta give her.”

Jean’s hand found his arm, her touch gentle but grounding. “Then show her, Remy. Show her everything.”

His red-on-black eyes met hers, and for a moment, they softened. There was no charm, no cocky smirk, no easy grin. Just Remy, stripped down to the raw, scared man beneath all the layers. He nodded, a tight, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to let Jean know that he had made his decision.

With one last look at the rings, still nestled in their velvet box, Remy snapped the lid shut and placed it back in the safe. This wasn’t about the past—about promises that had been broken long ago. This was about you. About the future he wasn’t even sure he deserved but knew he wanted.

He picked up the album, holding it carefully as if it held all the answers to the questions he couldn’t put into words. And maybe, just maybe, it did. Maybe this was the only way to show you that he wasn’t the man you thought he was—that there was more to him than the lies, the schemes, the deceit.

Without another word, he turned and walked past Jean and Scott, his footsteps heavy with purpose. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for their approval or their advice. This was something he had to do alone.

As he stepped out into the rain-soaked streets, the photo album tucked carefully under one arm, Remy felt the weight of his decision settle over him. The rain fell harder now, drenching him within seconds, but he barely noticed. His mind was too focused on you—on the look in your eyes when you had left, on the ache in his chest that hadn’t stopped since you walked away.

He had been a coward. He had let fear rule him for too long, hiding behind his charm and his tricks, pretending that he didn’t care because that was easier than admitting the truth.

But now? Now he was going to show you everything.

And if that wasn’t enough?

He didn’t know what he would do.

The rain blurred the city around him, turning the streetlights into hazy glows, the traffic into distant hums. But Remy didn’t care. He had only one goal in mind now: to find you. To show you that he wasn’t just the man you thought he was. That maybe, just maybe, there was something real underneath all the layers.

And as he walked through the storm, the photo album cradled like a fragile lifeline, he allowed himself, for the first time in a long while, to hope.

Because if there was one person who could understand him—who could see him for who he truly was—it was you.

And he wasn’t ready to lose that. Not yet. Not without a fight.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni 18+, playing catch, smut, buttstuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

the part before: lazy evenings - also check out the "spending time with mh!k" parts which kind of happen in between <3

Going for a walk

...has become one of our usual weekend activities. At least to get ourselves out of the house for a little while, get some fresh air and not coop up inside the whole time. The little patches of forest right outside his house are perfect for that.

I put on my fluffy socks, which are pink in contrast to the all black clothes I’m wearing. König looks at them and bites back a laugh.

“What? My feet get cold easily.”, I tell him, defensively.

“Oh, I know.”, he says. “I’ve had the pleasure of warming those Eiszapfen before.” (icicles)

We put our shoes on, also getting some jackets, because there is a gentle breeze blowing today, and head out the patio door. My DocMartens right beside his combat boots, and the contrast between them makes me grin inwardly. I push my hand into his, tugging on his arm, so we start walking.

The sun is fighting its way through the clouds, the sky overcast and gloomy. It had been raining the whole night, so the path into the little patches of forest is muddy, fresh rainwater puddles sitting on the forest ground. I accidentally step into one of them, mud splashing in all directions.

“Careful, you'll get those nice shoes dirty.”, he quips, looking down at them.

“They're here to get dirty, silly.”, I clap back.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure you knew that.”

I shoot him a look. “Shut up, they’re just new.”, I explain, looking down at his worn-out dirty boots that surely have seen better days. “At least mine have been made in this century.”, I jab at him, trying to hide my grin.

“Yeah, yeah.”, he grumbles, but he also pulls me closer, lifting my hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss onto the knuckles.

The last time we went for a walk out here, I tried to climb him like a tree because my intrusive thoughts won. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna be high up? I still remember how it felt to sit on his shoulders when we were at the concert, so I just couldn't resist.

“Hold still.”

“What are you doing?”

“I said, hold still.”

“Wos wird des, wonn’s fertig is?“

“I don’t speak your language, funny big man. Just stay still, so I can climb you like a tree.”

“Like a- a tree?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, you can climb me any day, Kleine.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you actually trying to climb me like a tree?”

“Yes, now hold still.”

He sighed, a laughter shaking his chest as I lifted my weight up by his shoulders, stepping on his thigh to move further up.

“That tickles.”, he grumbled when my fingers buried into his back muscles.

He finally just lifted me up, so I could sit on his shoulders which was as fun as I remembered it from the concert, but turned out to be a safety hazard because of all the tree branches higher up.

This time I’m not trying anything like that, also it would be quite daring to put my muddy shoes onto him. I mean, I’m more than sure that he can handle a little dirt, but still.

I’m taking two steps for his one, the pace making me pant. I pick up speed, taking bigger steps to keep up, but in turn he does the same until we’re both doing lunges across the forest ground, laughing like stupid.

I shake my head and slip out of his hold, darting away from him before turning around to look back at him, grinning in his direction.

“Whatcha doing now?”, he asks, a little edge in his voice.

“Can't catch me!”, I tell him, sticking out my tongue before I run towards a tree, hiding behind it.

I see his face light up in a grin, taking a few steps into my direction, and I can't suppress the little giggle that rises up my throat as I see him stalking towards me, calm and collected, no rush in his strides.

A little flurry of excitement rushes up my spine when he comes closer and I stumble a few steps back, my eyes not leaving his. He's looking at me, from under his eyebrows, the grin on his face turning into smirk, his strides getting bigger, the sounds of leaves and breaking branches under the soles of his boots, the squelching of mud accompanying every one of our steps.

I run a little bit further into the woods and I can hear him following me. Like Red Riding Hood running from the Big Bad Wolf...

Fuck, this was just meant to be a little fun game of catch, but the implications the situation has… it's getting me worked up, just thinking about it, how it would be like if I actually ran from him, tried to escape from him, until he catches me, certainly not a challenge for the big guy, and has his way with me.

I can feel the pang of need between my legs, a gush of wind making me shiver – or was it my dirty thoughts?

My panting drowns out the rest of the sounds and when I go to hide behind the next tree, a wide one, I don't hear him come round the other side and I almost collide with his chest. A little yelp escapes me before I giggle again, turning around and running the other way, but his arms are too long and he just grabs me, his hands closing around my waist.

“Gotchu, Kleine.”, he whispers into my ear as he pulls me against his chest, engulfing me with his arms and his warm scent. I still giggle while I wiggle in his hold, playfully trying to escape again, but I'm not going anywhere.

“Okay you win.”, I say then, jokingly pouting a little bit.

He turns me around, laughs while he lifts me up, up over his head, way too high up, until we're almost imitating that famous scene from Dirty Dancing which has me yelp and laugh. "König!"

He lowers me down again until I rest against his chest, my hands holding onto his shoulders, my legs closing around his hips, and he leans in to give me kiss. “Now... What's my reward for catching you?”, he asks, a spark of mischief in his eyes, not being serious at all.

But I'm also very willing to take our playful spat in that direction. And there is something that has been in the back of my mind, the last few times we had sex, something that I wanted to try, even though I'm not entirely sure he'll fit.

“You know what we talked about? Doing something different?”, I start, a little smirk stalking onto my lips.

He perks up. “You mean...” He lifts his eyebrows.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“I remember, yes. You want to try today?”, he wants to know.

I nod again. “Yes.”

A slight shiver shakes him, pulling me closer to him. “Are you sure?”, he asks again.

“Yes, König, I'm totally sure.”, I say, trying not to roll my eyes while a big grin forms on my face. It's endearing honestly how he always makes double sure of everything. I just told him that I want to try anal with him – which is a challenge considering his... size – and he is nothing but sweet about it.

“No need to get sassy.”, he chuckles against my lips, but he doesn’t get a move on. He kisses me again and I can feel the frenzy and hunger in it, even before he deepens it.

I’m trying not to squirm in his hold and failing miserably at it, grinding my hips into him which pulls a soft grunt from his lips.

“Then what are we waiting for?”, I whisper, looking up into his eyes.

A hint of surprise lights up his face, but it gives way to a simmering heat. “Your wish is my command, Prinzesserl.”, he drawls, repositioning me in his arms, taking long strides back to his house. Not hurry, but calm determination making his steps even bigger than they normally would be. He’s not even breathing harder as he almost runs, carrying me, which… I knew he was in good shape, but this is just ridiculous.

When we reach the patio, I slip out of his hold and enter the house. I quickly kick off my shoes, just letting them fall onto the floor which makes him shake his head and tut as he closes the back door behind him.

“We can get them later.”, I say, shrugging off my jacket as well, impatiently getting rid of the clothing.

He’s mumbling something under his breath, picking my boots up and quickly putting them and his own away while I run up the stairs. He can’t leave anything dirty, not even for a moment, and I sigh with a bashful smile. I should have known better, the big man and his love for keeping everything cleanly.

He catches up to me a few seconds later, his arm closing around me as he spanks my butt. “You’re lucky you’re this cute.”, he grumbles, hoisting me up. The shoes are quickly forgotten about, my legs closing around his waist again as he carries me to the bed, where he lies me down on the mattress.

He takes his sweet time to prep me, undressing me first before getting rid of his own clothes. Kissing every part of me that is unveiled, his breath coasting over my skin which makes me shiver.

His tongue licking a trail down from my sensitive neck to my nipples, turning to stiff peaks as he softly bites them, sucking, nibbling.

His hands wander further down, brushing over the soft skin of my tummy and hips until his fingertips reach between my legs, finding me shamelessly wet already.

Pushing his thick fingers into my pussy first, getting me even wetter with his languid strokes, before getting up again to fetch the buttplug and lube, two staples that hardly are missing anymore when we have sex, but today they're all the more important.

He's taking some of the slippery liquid, lubing me up and pushing the buttplug in slowly when it fully slips into me and I sigh, getting used to the feeling. He's still playing with my pussy, his thumb doesn't stop drawing circles over my clit until his mouth takes over.

Fuck, I don't think I can ever get enough of that, his lips on the sensitive skin, his hot breath coasting over my wetness, his tongue dipping into me. He knows what gets me going, his touches deliberate, getting me to the edge, softly pushing me over it with his mouth on me. My moans intermingling with the sound of his licks when I come against his mouth.

He's pulling the buttplug out again, pushing his fingers in instead. Just one at first, sliding in easily with how the plug already worked me open, then a second one. He takes more lube, sinking his fingers deeper. His eyes are intently looking at them disappear into my hole, his brows furrowed, but his jaw slack, sucking in small breaths.

He's watching me, my reactions, my small movements, the roll of my hips into his hands. When I breathe out and try to relax again, he slowly adds a third finger, and the stretch is making me gasp, the intensity is making me shake.

With a small shout from my lips, the orgasm hits me unexpectedly. "Coming from just my fingers in your ass? Oh Liebes.", he coos, not stopping to finger-fuck me as I pulse around them.

I pry my eyes open, taking in the soft expression on his face, my chest heaving with deep breaths.

"Fuck, it's so intense.", I say, my fingers brushing over my cheek and lips. "I don't know how you'll fit."

"It will fit, don't worry.", he softly drawls.

When I pull my hands away, he sees the moment of worry and hesitation on my face, the smirk dropping and his hand slipping out.

"We don't have to.", he interjects quickly, crawling over me. "We can stop anytime.

My hand shoots out, cupping his cheek, and he takes it and presses an kiss to the palm. "I want to do it.", I say, looking up at him, feeling the blush creep onto my cheeks. "At least try."

His eyes search mine. "Okay.", he says, pulling me into him.

He turns me around, positioning me on all fours while he kneels behind me. "Like this, you have control over it.", he explains, putting his hands on my hips.

"Okay.", I echo him, taking a deep breath.

He’s getting more lube, spreading it on his length and guiding me back until his tip nudges against my hole.

I gently sink down on his dick, really slow, taking inch by inch. Stopping every so often when it gets too intense. Leaning forward again, easing up, reminding myself to just relax. Relishing the feeling as I’m trying to take all of him.

He brushes my hair to the side, his mouth coasting over my neck, the tickling touches sending shivers over me. "Doing so well, Liebes.", he whispers. "Almost there." His arm closes around me, his hand dropping between my thighs, stroking over my pussy, circling my clit.

I sigh, slumping into his chest, holding onto his thigh, sliding further down until he is fully seated in my ass.

"Good girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, when he captures my lips in a searing kiss, and my hand tangles in his hair.

I start moving back and forth, grinding myself against him, his length sliding out and in again. Just a little bit at a time. He groans, softly rolling his hips to meet mine.

"Fuck.", I whine. My movements are getting sloppy quickly, filled to the brim over and over again. I can feel the tension in my lower belly, breaking the kiss while I try to ride him like this, the swell of my ass pressing up against his groin.

All of a sudden, he pulls himself out of me and I whimper at the loss of fullness.  "Fuck, I'm sorry. Need to see your face when you come around my dick.", he breathes.

I turn to the side, so I'm facing him as he places me right on front of him on my back. My knees drop to the side in an instant, and he hums, placing his hands on my thighs, pushing them back to expose me even more.

His eyes drop down and he spits. A dollop of saliva drips onto my pussy, running down to my ass, adding to the wetness and lube.

He's gently pushing in again, and the stretch is making me whine. Fuck, this still is intense. He leans down, his long dark hair falling around us like a curtain. Kissing me, softly nipping the sensitive skin.

"Where's this dick, hm? Tell me.", he whispers while he thrusts languidly, pushing even deeper.

"It's in my ass.", I sigh, the soft sound turning into a moan when his hips meet mine again.

I can feel the smile on his lips against mine. "That's right, and you're taking me so well.", he says.

I whimper, his praise tightening up the intense feeling inside me, and that's before he's picking up tempo, still not fucking me like he usually would. More slow and deep than hard and fast, but with the steady rhythm and how he stretches me out... This is driving me crazy.

Especially when he slips two fingers into my slick pussy, his thumb pressing against my clit as he fills me up to the brim like this.

"Oh fuck.", I curse, my eyes rolling back.

He played with both my holes at the same time before, but this is almost too much this way. His thick digits pump into my wetness, the same time his dick pushes into my ass.

"How does that feel, Liebes?", he wants to know.

"Feels good.", I breathe. And it does, even if I can barely handle the feeling of fullness.

"Yeah? You like that, hm?", he asks.

"Yes.", I moan, my eyes turning up, I can feel the tension pooling in my lower belly again and my thighs are starting to shake. "Fuck, please..." My words turn into moans, unable to finish my plea. Just a little more, I think, desperately needing to come.

And he doesn't stop to fuck me while his other hand is slowly caressing up my body until it gently closes around my throat. A little move that makes me pant even harder, tingles erupting all over my body.

His thumb pushes into my mouth that has fallen open, brushing over my tongue. I hum as I close my lips around his digit, sucking on it which makes him smirk down at me.

He's not moving much, just softly rolling his hips, pushing his dick in and out of my ass. His gaze is on me, and I'm desperately trying to keep my focus on his face, but I feel like I have already lost my mind. All my holes stuffed by him, his dick and his fingers, my mewls getting muffled by his thick thumb.

"You gonna cum for me like a good girl?", he whispers, and I hum again, nodding hastily.

"Yes, yes!", I mumble around his digit, losing myself in his eyes staring up at him.

His hushed words, their soft drawl, being at his mercy like this, catapults me over the edge. I can feel the tension snap, the orgasm is wrecking through me, my back arching, my hands flying out to desperately hold onto him, onto his arm that is strewn over my body.

His thumb slips out of my mouth, his hand capturing my face, I can feel the wetness of my own spit on my cheek as he makes me look at him while I pulse on his dick and fingers. The sounds dropping from my lips are almost obscene.

"Look at me, yes fuck.", he curses, taking everything in, his gaze fixed on mine.

His eyebrows furrow, his eyes pressing together, just for a moment. And he comes inside me while my orgasm is subsiding, the waves of arousal still shaking me. Pressing his lips to mine as choked moans escape his throat.

He pulls out of me, and all I can do is slump into the sheets, totally fucked out. Having your holes stuffed like that really does a number on you. My mind is hazy, and I feel like I'm floating, the tension leaving my taught body with every deep breath I take.

"You okay, Liebes?", he asks, posing the same question he always posed when you first started fucking, and he still comes back to it.

"Oh yeah.", I sigh, pulling him closer again, not willing to let him get up, let alone get up myself. I'm not even sure my legs would carry me. "That was quite... something.", I remark, looking up at him, the slightest blush staining his cheeks, like always after he just came.

He laughs a little, deep and soft, as his body slumps onto mine again and we just lie here for a moment.

"Quite something, huh?", he teases me, his nose nuzzling into the crook of my neck. I push some of his long dark hair back, my fingers brushing through them.

"No thoughts, head empty.", I mumble, snuggling into him. "No energy for big words."

He laughs again, his hand roaming down my body, squeezing my hip ever so slightly as he relaxes into me. And a soft calmness falls over us as we bask in the afterglow, his warmth engulfing me.

After a while of just laying here, he lifts me up with him, carrying me to the bathroom. He's drawing me a bath in the tub we rarely use, letting me soak in the warm water that helps relax my taught muscles, washing away the remnants of the hot and heavy fuck. He even puts on some music before sinking into the water himself, almost flooding the bathroom, and I laugh when "Fairies wear Boots" by Black Sabbath starts playing from the Bluetooth speaker, but he just grins down at me.

Somebody else might have put on something sultry and chill, but not him. Pulling me into his arms, chuckling a bit and then singing along "Fairies wear boots, yeah you gotta believe me…", the words in his deep soothing voice making me smile to myself.

I'm feeling very pampered and I can't complain – I would never complain – sitting on the couch afterwards, a snuggly blanket around my shoulders and a bowl in my hands with some pasta dish he quickly whipped up.

He drops onto the cushion beside me and turns on the TV. We started watching Bojack Horseman, a show I’ve watched before and he hadn't seen yet. Because he almost never watches shows, even though he pays for all the streaming services. I mean, he also has Spotify and listens to CDs and vinyls much more often. Did I mention that he's old?

I turn to look at him, sitting there with double my portion on his plate. He looks back at me with a quizzical stare, munching on some noodles, a sight that makes me giddy, and I can't even really pinpoint why. The big guy so casual always makes my heart sing.

"You think you'd might wanna chase me through the woods some time?", I ask him straight forward while shoving some pasta in my face.

He halts, pulling his eyebrows up. "You'd like me to?", he asks back, dropping the fork into his noodles.

I nod. "Yeah." I can't help a little blush creep into my cheeks. "When we played catch today... I couldn't help but imagine it...", I confess.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, his eyes searching my face to look for answers, his expression unmoving and serious while he pans down my body, the bowl of pasta on my lap.

"With those short legs?", he quips then, looking at them for a moment, a grin breaking through.

I gasp. "Rude!"

He laughs a little before pulling me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead and dropping the banter. "We can try that... Just need to talk about the, uh, logistics some more." He pulls back to look at me. "I want you to feel save.", he says, his thumb caressing over my cheek.

"I always do with you.", I simply answer, giving him a small peck on the lips.

When I break away, I catch something in the corner of his eyes, an emotion I can't quite grasp, but it's gone the next second when he picks up his fork again.

"What?", I ask, unable to let it be.

His mouth forms into a lop-sided smile while he shakes his head. He doesn't say anything, but quickly takes my hand in his, squeezing my fingers, meeting my gaze for a moment. And the little gesture puts me at ease. I relax back into the cushions and turn my attention to the flatscreen again, returning to eat my pasta.

I can feel his eyes on me for another moment longer, my shoulder nudging his, and we continue watching the show.

the next part: comforting him or more in the Masterlist ~

[nuttersincorporated]

Gravity Falls fanfic I’m too lazy to write

Bill Cipher has been in the Theraprism a LONG time. It’s a good thing the Theraprism is in the neutral zone, outside of time because – if clocks worked there – he would have been there for 42 lifetimes of the universe.

It’s been slow work but Bill has made some progress. He’s at a point where he’s confronted the horrible things he’s done. He’s no longer living in denial and hiding behind a cheery façade. Unfortunately, he’s now deep in self-loathing and he’s been there for a long time, unable to move forward and grow.

Then the unthinkable happens. Something happens to the Theraprism and Bill takes his chance. He ends up back in our universe.

Half dead, glitchy and weak, Bill starts traveling backwards through his own timeline. Everywhere and when he finds himself, he desperately trying to change how things turned out and thwart his past self’s plans.

Bill arrives the day before ‘Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future’ and enters Mabel’s dream.

“Mable! Tomorrow you’re going to have a really bad day. I know you don’t want summer to end but when the Time Traveller turns up and offers you more time, don’t give him anything!

It’s a trap. I’ll be… he’ll be…

Look I’m from the future and past me possessed him. Just ask him to take off his goggles so you can see his eyes.”

He jumps further back. Dipper has been trying to guess the password to the laptop for two days and he’s getting nowhere. Bill’s past self is going offer to give Dipper a ‘clue’ in a few days time but current Bill gets there first.

“Dipper! Don’t scream! Everything’s fine! … or it will be. Just shut up and listen! This is important!

The password is ‘Stanford’ and the laptop was made by McGucket. The Journals were written by your Grunkle Ford. He fell through a portal 30 years ago and your Grunkle Stan’s been secretly trying trying to get him back ever since. He’s going to succeed.

Don’t ever make a deal with me. I can’t be trusted and the price is always too high.”

Bill jumps back again and again and again. The thing is, he’s been chased. Time Baby wants the Time Anomaly Removal Crew to catch him because his actions are causing new timelines to splinter off from what Time Baby sees as the ‘canon’ one. Bill’s old guards/therapists want to catch him and drag him back to the Theraprism for more treatment.

However, the worst danger Bill is in, is from his past self. He’s traveling back down his own timeline after all and his past self is always nearby.

Past Bill hates what he sees as a pathetic, broken version of himself. If he ever catches himself, first he’ll find out what happened to make a future version of himself turn out this way so he can avoid making the same mistakes. Then, he’ll kill this miserable excuse of a Bill Cipher. There’s only room for one of them and past Bill is going to make sure he comes out on top.

Current Bill never actually planned any of this out. He’s doing the best he can. If he has any sort of aim, it’s to make it back to before he killed his home universe. Hurt and weaken as he is, Bill still thinks if he makes it back that far, he can probably kill his younger self. Either way, he doesn’t plan to ask the Axolotl for another chance this time around.

[ginxyy]

Under the stars

My soulmate Joshua

It was a balmy summer night, and the stars hung low in the heavens like diamonds scattered across a velvet canvas. I remember lying on the soft grass of Joshua’s backyard, my heart pounding fiercely against my chest as I turned my head to find him lying next to me. His laughter echoed in the quiet night, a sound so infectious that it made my heart flutter. It was in those moments that I truly felt the magic of falling in love, especially with someone as extraordinary as him….. Joshua Hong from SEVENTEEN.

We had been friends for a while, our bond growing from shared laughter during rehearsals to late-night phone calls where we’d talk about everything and nothing. Yet, there was something about that summer night that felt different. The way the moonlight danced in his eyes made me realize that perhaps our relationship was worth exploring beyond the boundaries of friendship.

"Do you think the stars can hear us?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow, a teasing glint in his eye. I could never resist his charming nature, especially when he directed it toward me.

“Maybe they’re just jealous of how bright you shine,” I teased back, laughing at the blushing hue that crept onto his cheeks. There he was, Joshua the boy whose voice could make a room fall silent, now slightly flustered by what I had said. His smile was radiant, illuminating the darkness around us.

As the minutes turned to hours, we began to share secrets we had never uttered out loud. I told him about the time I had an embarrassing encounter with a bee at a birthday party, how I had screamed like a cartoon character and done a ridiculous dance to escape it. He roared with laughter, doubling over on the grass, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. In that moment, time stood still.

“I definitely need to see that dance one day,” he said, trying to catch his breath. I loved how easy it was to make him laugh, how his joy seemed to amplify everything around us. And just like that, the guard I'd held over my heart began to slip away.

A few days later, our playful teasing turned into something sweeter. We were preparing for an impromptu dance practice in his room, the walls echoing with the rhythm of our movements. I hadn’t expected to feel so alive watching him is body moving flawlessly to the beat, every turn and spin reminiscent of a beautiful melody. My heart was racing, not from the dance steps but from the way he caught me looking at him.

“Wanna join?” he asked, extending his hand towards me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I reluctantly stepped back as I felt a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

“What if I step on your toes?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Then we’ll just have to be a toe-stepping duo,” he laughed, that charming grin plastered on his face. With that, he pulled me close, declaring us a team my heart didn’t stand a chance as we tangled in the music together.

Later that evening, as we sprawled across his floor covered in final dance notes, I noticed Joshua’s expression shift. He looked at me with a seriousness that was both reassuring and nerve-wracking. “I think I’m falling for you,” he said softly.

The words hung in the air, beautiful and terrifying, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. “You’re ridiculous,” I replied, unable to suppress the smile pulling at my lips. But there was a truth in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore. “I think I’m falling for you too, Josh.”

And just like that, the friendship we shared transformed into something sweeter, brighter a romance blossoming like wildflowers in springtime. From that point on, every moment felt like magic.

We shared countless lazy evenings watching movies, our laughter mingling with the dialogue unfolding on-screen. I vividly remember the time we tackled a horror film, one that Joshua boldly insisted would be “not scary at all.” You can imagine my surprise when I was hiding behind the couch cushions, screaming at the top of my lungs, while he sat there laughing uncontrollably. “Maybe I should take you to all the scary movies, just for the entertainment,” he chuckled, his eyes shining with mischief.

Then there were the playful dare games we initiated during our late-night strolls. One night, I dared him to serenade me in the middle of the street. With confidence, he launched into an impromptu rendition of one of his songs, his voice weaving a tapestry of warmth and love around us. Passersby looked on, some surprised, others amused, but in that moment, it was just us. I felt like the world had stopped, and nothing existed beyond Joshua’s passion-filled notes.

One glorious evening, as fireflies danced around us like tiny stars, I found myself in a moment so precious it made my heart swell. We were sitting together on my porch, talking about our hopes and dreams, the air thick with laughter and an unspoken understanding. He turned to me, taking my hand softly in his. “No matter where life takes us, I just want you to know that you mean everything to me,” he said, sincerity flooding his voice.

The warmth from his voice echoed against my skin, and I couldn’t suppress the happy tears that welled in my eyes. “You’re everything to me too, Josh,” I whispered.

I could stare at him forever, encapsulated in that tender moment, always finding something new to love about him. He had a way of making the world feel lighter, the burdens on my heart feel less weighty. Falling in love with Joshua was like wading into a warm ocean; it was undeniably overwhelming yet strangely comforting.

We had our clumsy little moments as well like the time I attempted to give him a piggyback ride only to tumble over without warning. In that hilarious instant, we both fell to the floor in a fit of laughter, unable to control ourselves. “I think I’m too heavy for you!” he gasped between giggles. “You should definitely stick to dancing!”

With each shared glance, each playful bicker, it felt like we were drifting further into our own universe. Sure, we had our awkward moments, but the laughter and joy we created were undeniably beautiful, stitching our hearts together tighter with each passing day.

Tonight, though, as I’m tucked in tight beneath the stars, nestled against Joshua, I can’t help but feel that I’m exactly where I belong. Our laughter twinkling against the backdrop of the cosmos, I know this falling in love with Joshua was just the beginning of our happily ever after.

[myosotisa]

scoops steve is a mood so can I request scoops steve??

you absolutely can, my friend!! here is some jealous!Reader with some Scoops Ahoy Steve

New and Different

ǁ summary: You visit your boyfriend at work for the first time and catch him talking with an old classmate. Your envy takes over.

ǁ tags: implied fem!reader, jealousy, happy ending, fluffy, content warning for scoops ahoy shorts because they are simply too much

ǁ word count: 1.8k

One of the problems with Steve working at Scoops Ahoy is that stupid little outfit he has to wear every day.

The two of you had only been dating a few weeks when you decided to visit him at work for the first time. You’d seen the outfit before, of course, but only in the privacy of your own home where it felt like all the thigh on display was completely for your own enjoyment. Seeing him wearing it in public leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you are reluctant to acknowledge is a burning pit of jealousy.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” his smile is absolutely radiant in the bright overheads of the shop the moment he sees you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of getting to see such a babe during my work day?”

“That depends,” no one is waiting to order so you walk right up to the counter, hands pressed to the vinyl as you lean in toward him, “how many free samples are you allowed to give out?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you as the corners of his eyes crinkle in joy. “For you? I’d sample every flavor.”

The sentiment makes your heart warm as it thumps in your chest. A bit shy, you ask, “Even though you hate people asking for a ton of samples?”

“What can I say?” His head tilts to the side, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

It’s your turn to laugh, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Okay, smooth operator, why don’t you–”

“God, will you two STOP.” Robin pushes her way out of the swinging doors to your left with a dramatic flourish, hands in the air as she gives you her most exasperated look yet. “We get it, you’re in puppy love, you’re making us all sick with your shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest as he leans a hip against the counter to tilt toward her. “You’re just jealous you’re sad and alone.”

“Wow, dingus, that really hurts,” she retorts in a total monotone, “how will I ever recover from being attacked like this?”

“Sorry Robin,” you offer to try and limit their bickering, an apologetic smile flashed her way. She seems to appreciate the gesture at the very least as she goes to grab what she came to the front for before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Steve is quick to offer you an apology on her behalf that you insist you don’t need and the two of you go back to awkwardly flirting while he puts together a two scoop bowl of ice cream for you. He has a break in 15 minutes or so, encouraging you to take a seat so he can join you when he is able to relinquish his post.

Having no plans this afternoon, you’re quick to agree, settling into a booth on the left hand wall with a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Unfortunately, you are not the only one vying for a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Honestly, you don’t even remember her name. Someone from high school that had never said two words to you but probably was an attendee at all of Steve’s parties in his big, empty house on the edge of town. He’d told you recently that people from high school hadn’t treated him very kindly since he started working at the mall – after his falling out with Tommy, his breakup with Nancy, and his failure to get into college, he had changed a lot. So you can see the apprehension he is trying to hide as she approaches the counter and he greets her.

He looks utterly delighted when she not only remembers him, but also seems happy to see him. Acting like old friends catching up and not just 2 people who were acquaintances catching up barely 2 months after graduating in the same class. He’s all bright smiles as he takes her order and they keep talking and you really, really want to be happy for him. You should be happy that he is finally interacting with someone who knew him at King Steve and isn’t being rude or dismissive of him now. That is what a girlfriend should want for her boyfriend.

But she is laughing too brightly and airly. Her hair is twisted around her finger and she looks way more popular – and therefore more attractive – than you. She’s watching him too closely, her gaze shifting down to his ass and thighs in his stupid little shorts when he turns around. And when he hands her the waffle cone she ordered, her fingers linger a little too long on his. Plus, you bet she doodled her phone number with a little heart next to it on her receipt when she slid it back to him. Bitch.

Okay, wait. Hold on there. The little green monster of envy that you try to hide deep in your gut very quickly took the reins of your thoughts for a few moments there. You trust Steve and you know he would never do anything to encourage someone flirting with him or do anything to betray you like that. He probably has no idea she was flirting/checking him out and he doesn’t even look twice when she struts out of the store and calls back to Robin that he’s taking his break.

Which doesn’t leave you nearly enough time to try to recover from your jealousy and the shame that accompanies it before he’s sliding into the booth across from you.

“Hey honey, is this seat taken?” He asks, like a loser, even though he is already sitting in it.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to fully reset yourself, you offer your best attempt at a flirty retort. “Actually, I was saving it for my boyfriend.”

And there’s that lovesick smile again, the apples of his cheeks dusting pink as he runs a hand through his hat-hair. “Well isn’t he a lucky guy?” You hum an agreement before returning your attention to your almost entirely uneaten ice cream that has been steadily melting in front of you since he handed it to you 15 minutes ago. “You’ve barely eaten a bite, did you end up not liking what you picked? Because I can go and grab something else–”

He’s halfway out of his seat again when you hold out a hand to stop him. “No, no, it’s good. Totally fine. I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” Falling back to sit, he takes your outstretched hand in his own and rubs his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “What was so distracting that you let award winning Scoops Ahoy brand ice cream melt?” He can barely say it with a serious face, and he makes sure to draw out the word distracting like he knows the answer. And he’s probably assuming you were distracted looking at him, which, in a way, you technically were. Just not in the way that he thinks.

“That girl who was just in here,” his eyebrows raise, pink lips forming a small ‘o’ in surprise, obviously having not anticipated this topic of conversation, “I don’t remember her name, but she went to school with us, right?”

“Yeah, Anna Jakobi. She said she was doing some shopping for some party on Saturday at Carla’s, asked if I wanted to go.”

It feels like your heart drops into your stomach. “Are you going to go?”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, obviously confused. “No? I work in the afternoon and then we are going to see a movie with Dustin before he leaves for camp. That’s still the plan, right?”

Although slightly relieved, you still don’t feel entirely settled. “That was the plan but if you’d rather go to this party at Carla’s then you can, I won’t stop you–”

“Hey.” You return to making eye contact with him, not realizing you’d been avoiding doing so for the last few minutes. He looks confused and concerned, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Did I do something wrong? It kinda feels like you’re mad at me.”

“No!” You try to assure him, way too quickly to sound normal, as you bring your other hand up to rub at your forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, you’re perfect, I promise.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

How are you going to get out of this one?

After taking a few moments to try to find an excuse, you settle on: “I just know you’ve been kinda bummed about losing some of the people you talked to in high school as friends so it sounds like a good opportunity to, I dunno… Reconnect with some of them.”

He chuckles again, a small smile returning. “I don’t really know if I would call a lot of those people my ‘friends’. But you’re right, I was pretty bummed.” A long exhale leaves his nose, his eyes falling to watch his thumb as it continues its gentle glide across your knuckles. “Still, I would much rather spend time with you and Dustin than go to some party.”

You want to believe it. You really do. But the jealousy had linked hands with your insecurity and muddled everything up. “You’d probably have a lot more fun with them,” and you follow it up with an awkward laugh. If only you could bring those words back into your mouth and swallow them so they were never heard from again.

“No way,” he shakes his head, honey shaded eyes returning to yours with a certainty that makes you feel all warm inside, “nothing’s more fun than spending time with my girl.”

The ice melts further, your posture visibly relaxing at the term of endearment as you layer your other hand on top of his. He looks relieved at the smile that returns to you before you see an idea visibly click behind his gaze. “Wait, were you jealous? About me talking to Anna?”

The way you quickly squeak out a “No” makes your case in no way convincing.

And where you’re expecting disgust or anger or maybe pity, you find none. If anything, he looks delighted at this discovery. “You were jealous. That’s why you sat here that whole time without eating any of your ice cream.”

Embarrassment piles on top of your shame, your mood plummeting. “Don’t be mean, Steve.”

He just shrugs, his delighted expression never falling. “I don’t know, honey. It’s kind of a turn on.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, sitting up straighter as you blink your widened eyes rapidly. “What?”

“You seeing me talking to a girl and getting all possessive over me? That’s hot, actually.”

Your heart is absolutely hammering in your chest as you mirror the smile on his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he confirms a little too enthusiastically, grabbing the attention of someone walking in before you both duck your heads and giggle when they look away. “You can get possessive over me all you want, babe. I’m yours and you’re mine. My girl.”

-

-

[giggly-squiggily]

ler!chigiri w/ an s/o reader with really stiff shoulder and a sore back and he massages it for her but he gets a little too close to sides/neck/lower back and NO IT TICKLES SO BAD and then hes like teasing her (u can do g/n too) and stuff and just ASJHAS

(for the limited requests thing)

THANK YOU SO MUCH HAVE A NICE DAY

{REQUEST ARE CLOSED! This is an older one!}

No cause the way I couldn't freaking find this dang thing until now-

ANON! :D Hi! Yes! This lovely request! :3 I thought Tumblr ate it and then I found it through mobile and just- anyway! I love Chigiri so much, and this request is beautiful! I did end up making it more a proper tickle fight, but I kept in a good portion of Ler!Chigiri for you! As all of my Reader fics, they are gender neutral for inclusivity! I hope you like it :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@cupcake-spice13 @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada

“That’s a new position.” Chigiri blinked at you over his book, watching you back bend as far as you could with a low groan. “Trying out for the next exorcist movie?”

“If the pay is in spa tickets, sign me up.” You leaned back a bit further, only to lose your balance and fall. Before you could hurt yourself, Chigiri was right there, catching you in his lap. “Whoa- my hero.” You smiled up at him- it fading some at his concerned look. “What?”

“Does your back hurt that bad?” He asked gently, brows furrowing when you nodded.

“Thought if I tried popping it it’d feel better, but I was wrong.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders and neck with a small groan. “I’ll be fine- I just need to run a hot bath and take some painkillers. That’ll solve it.”

“Sounds good..hey, do you-erm..” Chigiri took your hand before you could stand, suddenly shy. You watched him fumble with his words, cheeks pink as he cleared his throat. “Do you want me to erm…help?”

You blinked. “With my bath?” You asked, grinning slyly as you watched him blush more and stammer.

“No, with your back! I can massage it for you.” He quickly got out, slightly glaring as you giggled. “I used to do it all the time for the guys back in Blue Lock- what, what?” He fumed more as you laughed harder, a hand over your mouth to hide your smile.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry- I’m still thinking of your face!” You snickered, leaning in and pecking his lips before he could fuss. “But seriously; if you’re offering. I’d love a massage, Hyoma. Thank you.”

Chigiri tried to stay pouty, but another few pecks to his face had him giggling softly and lightly shoving your shoulder. “Okay okay- fine. Get on the couch.”

~~~

“Hmmmm..” You let out a low sound as he dug at the knots in your shoulders, the initial pain fading into relief as he went. “That’s nice…”

“I’m glad- any way I can help I will.” He smiled down at you, comfortable sitting on your hips as he pressed along. “Let me know if I need to lighten the pressure.”

You gave a lazy thumbs up as you rested, closing your eyes. He had magic hands, you’ve decided at that moment. His earlier comment came back to you then. He gave massages to the guys back in Blue Lock?

Team Z must have been truly blessed.

While you lingered on that thought, you didn’t notice Chigiri’s hands getting closer to your armpits- the touch growing lighter and lighter until…

“AH!” You arched with a squeal, arms shooting down and a foot kicking. Behind you, Chigiri giggled. “Hyoma!”

“Sorry- I was thinking of your face.” He threw your earlier words back at you as he carried on “massaging” your armpits, prodding and pressing as you squeaked and thrashed beneath him. “You’re just so cute when you laugh, I wanted to see it again. Or at least- hear it anyway.”

Aheahhahahhaha! H-Hyohohohohoma-AHAHAH!” His hands dropped briefly to your ribs, running up and down your sides as you twisted against the couch. It was a precarious development; you didn’t want to send him flying at risk of his knee injury, but also didn’t want to remain lying there and taking it! Decisions decisions..

“Heh, you’re really adorable when you laugh, (Y/N). I could do this forever.” Chigiri dropped his hands to your hips, squeezing. “I just might- I wanna tickle you until the sound of your precious laugh is forever ingrained in my brain. I wanna be able to hear it even when you’re not around.”

Oh hell no, he did not just sweet talk you-

Face on fire and heart racing, you felt yourself filled with a new sense of determination as you twisted, somehow flipping onto your back without knocking him over. “Cohohohome hehehere!” You cried at his surprised expression, grabbing into his sleeves and pulling.

“Wait, wahhait the masahhahahahahahahhge!” Chigiri yelped before bursting into giggles, weakly pawing at your hands as they squeezed his sides rapidly. “(Y/N)! Aheahhahahahah!”

“What? Huh? Sorry- I was too busy laughing at your face!” You crooned back, bursting into giggles once more when he went back to tickling. “H-hhehehey, no! It’s miihihihy tuhuhurn!”

“Nohoho wahahahy! Yohohou geheheht th-ihiihihihihihis! Ehehahahhaha nohhohoho!” Chigiri laughed just as much, both tickling and trying to block your hands from his knees. “Nohohohot thehehehehre!”

“Yhehehes thehehe-EHEHEHE!” Your efforts to go for his worst spot were thumped when he went for your stomach, making you crumble. “STAHAHAHP!”

“YOHOHOU STHAHAP! EHHEEHE!”

Your tickle fight carried on- both of you laughing and attacking each other. Eventually though, it all came to an end; both of you simultaneously giving up and collapsing into the couch.

“Ahehehe..ehhehehee..ghohohd.” You groaned, chest light and body feeling significantly better. “Hehehey, I feheheel behehehtter.”

“Pfft- grhehahhat.” Chigiri laughed, scooting up so he could lay beside you, pulling you into his chest. “Glahahad to hehelp.”

“Hmm.” You smiled and closed your eyes, legs intertwined and arms around each other. You could fall asleep like this…

“Hm. Hyoma?” You poked him gently, watching him open an eye. “I’m hungry. Can we order food?”

He blinked, then he laughed, pressing his face against the crown of your head. “Yeah, we can order food.”

“Yay.”

Thanks for reading!

[i2rizz]

Atlanta Lock AU Pt.3

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: atlanta lock!Nagi x reader

Im having way too much fun w this AU

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The first time you heard about Nagi’s “hustle,” you were lounging in his makeshift office, which, in reality, was just the couch in the back room of O Block’s bodega. You were halfway through a soda (that probably wasn’t paid for) when Nagi, with his usual lazy energy, leaned over to show you his latest "business venture."

“Got a new plan,” Nagi muttered, tapping on his phone with that sleepy intensity he always had when it came to his latest schemes.

You glanced up, not surprised but mildly concerned. “Okay, hit me. What is it this time? Stealing cars? Reselling sneakers?”

Nagi shrugged, unfazed by your skepticism. “Nope. Something easier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Let me guess—digital ramen?”

“Better,” he said, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice. “NFTs.”

You blinked at him. “NFTs?”

“Yeah,” Nagi said, not really explaining but still flipping his phone around to show you a badly photoshopped graphic. It was a pixelated image of a brick, with the words “EXCLUSIVE GANG NFT” plastered across it. “Art. But, like...gangster art.”

You stared at it for a long beat. “This is a joke, right?”

“Nope,” Nagi replied, popping a Pocky stick into his mouth and leaning back as though he just invented the next big thing.

“People are gonna pay for this?” you asked, half-laughing, half-dying inside.

“Mm-hmm,” Nagi said lazily. “It’s a status thing. Only a few available. Like limited edition.”

You shook your head. “Okay, but...where are you even gonna sell them?”

Reo appeared from behind the shelves, holding a stack of flyers. “I got the marketing down,” he said, flashing a grin that screamed “I’m ready to make this an empire.”

Somehow, against all logic and reason, Nagi’s “gang NFT” scheme started to take off.

It all started when Reo started printing flyers that were handed out in random alleyways, on street corners, and honestly, anywhere people gathered in O Block. The flyer promised “Exclusive Gang NFT Drops” with a link to Nagi’s barely functional website. And to your absolute disbelief, people actually started buying them.

“See?” Nagi said as he showed you his phone, where the sales notifications kept popping up. “Easy money.”

“But... it’s just a picture of a brick,” you said, still not sure if you were in a fever dream.

“It’s a rare brick,” he deadpanned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You groaned, but to be fair, there were actual sales happening. Nagi’s “gang art” was going viral within O Block, which meant he was making enough cash to fund his endless supply of snacks.

As the days passed, things started getting too crazy. Not just the sales, but the sudden influx of people trying to resell their “Nagi NFTs” for triple the price. It started to get out of hand, and that’s when things got tense.

One evening, you were sitting outside, watching the usual chaos of O Block unfold in front of you, when Reo came running over, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Nagi, bro,” Reo said, out of breath. “People are flipping your NFTs for crazy prices. The whole block’s buying in. We might’ve started a real trend.”

Nagi blinked slowly. “So... they’re all dumb?”

Reo didn’t even answer. “There’s a bidding war going on for your NFTs. Everyone wants a piece. You need to act fast before someone catches on that this is... well, just a scam.”

Nagi didn’t seem phased at all. “Nah, we’re fine. I’m in too deep to care now. Just keep selling.”

But as the “gangster NFTs” started circulating beyond O Block, the word got out. And as you would expect, other “gangs” started trying to get in on the action. Nagi didn’t even realize he’d become part of a much bigger problem until he was suddenly dealing with rival groups, trying to snatch up his idea for themselves.

“That’s it, Nagi,” you said, standing in the middle of O Block one evening as a few guys from other areas tried to buy out the rights to his NFTs. “This is too much. They’re gonna think we’re messing with them. You need to stop.”

But Nagi just yawned, unfazed by the growing tension. “Nah. We’ve got this.”

He was completely out of touch with reality—until it all went south.

Everything came crashing down one night when a local rival gang, who had been watching Nagi’s “NFT empire” rise, decided to “invite” him to a little chat about copyright and street-level royalties.

You were right beside him when the whole situation turned ugly. A couple of guys walked up to him in the middle of a street corner, all muscle and attitude.

“You’re the one with the NFTs, huh?” one of them asked, crossing his arms.

Nagi didn’t even look up from his phone. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You know, that’s our turf, right?” another guy said, taking a step forward. “We don’t like you messing with our territory.”

Nagi’s reply was a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just art, man. Chill.”

“Art?” The guy sneered. “You’re making money off of our turf, and you think it’s just ‘art’? You got some nerve.”

You could see it escalating, but Nagi wasn’t even remotely worried. “Well, too bad. You can’t stop the hustle.”

And just like that, the situation flipped into full-blown chaos. The other gang made a move to intimidate him, but Nagi just lazily sidestepped them, clearly not phased by the tension. You, however, weren’t in the mood to get caught in the crossfire.

“Let’s go, Nagi,” you said, pulling on his sleeve. “This isn’t worth it.”

Nagi gave you a sidelong glance, looking completely unbothered. “You’re right. I can just make more NFTs tomorrow.”

The next day, you found Nagi lounging on his couch, no worse for wear. He had somehow managed to avoid any real damage, and his “NFT empire” had taken a hit, but he didn’t care. He was already onto his next lazy plan.

“Well, that was an adventure,” you sighed, sitting down next to him. “So, what now?”

“Eh, I think I’ll stick to real art next time,” he said, yawning. “Maybe a picture of a pizza or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yep. And I’m still making money. Wanna help me with the next one?”

You groaned, slapping his arm. “No way. I’m done with your schemes, Nagi.”

“Too late,” he grinned. “We’re partners.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that somehow, you were already too deep in his world to back out now.

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[still-breathing-au-p3r]

With their impending final battle just two days away, it’s no wonder that everyone is opting to take it easy and make this Sunday a good and lazy one. Usually Minato would go out to the shrine to meet Kamiki at their usual bench, and maybe he will still do that later. 

But Junpei beckons him over, brandishing another manga excitedly. The instant he sits down on the couch next to his friend, Koromaru worms his way into Minato’s lap and settles himself there.

Welp. There’s no way he’s moving. He lives here now, on this couch, forever. Or at least until Koromaru decides to get up. 

Minato starts losing track of what Junpei’s saying– he talks a little too fast sometimes– but what he does manage to pick out is pretty interesting. And it’s also just nice just to be around this kind of enthusiasm. He lets Junpei’s words break over him like a wave, soaking in the pleasant atmosphere, until a soft ping from his pocket brings him back to reality. 

“Oooh, someone asking you out on a Sunday date?” Junpei interrupts himself almost mid-word, grinning hugely.

Minato opens his phone without responding. The subject line reads, ‘Need a favor’ and the sender is not at all who he would have expected. He’s suddenly getting deja vu.

“It’s Sanada-senpai,” he eventually replies. 

“Wait, you’ve got a date with Sanada-san?!” 

“Are you kidding? Of course not, he’s way out of my league.” Minato opens the email.

Hey. If you’re not too busy, would you mind helping me and Mitsuru out today? Shinji’s getting out of the hospital this week and we’re trying to find something for him as a welcome back thing.

“Dude!” Junpei hoots not even five centimeters from his ear. Minato jerks away and tucks the screen of his phone against his chest, surprised and affronted at how close Junpei suddenly is and how blatantly he’d just read over Minato’s shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like that, man, you’ve got no room to talk.” That’s… fair actually. “For real, though? Aragaki-san’s really coming back this week?”

“He is?!” Minato and Junpei look up to find Fuuka standing at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes bright and enormous and her hands folded prayerfully beneath her chin. Yukari and Aigis stand a few steps behind her, looking equally elated.

“That’s what Sanada-san just said!” Junpei cheers. “He and Kirijo-senpai are getting him some kinda welcome-home present and asked Minato to come along and help!”

Hopefully Sanada hadn’t planned on keeping the news a secret or a surprise for any reason.

“That sounds like a great idea! We should all go and pitch in!” Yukari says.

While they’re all talking about it, Minato takes a quick picture of Koromaru, still situated very comfortably in his lap, and attaches it to a reply. 

I’m being held hostage 

It’s only a few moments later that another message comes in. 

Lol. What’s the ransom? 

Never in a million years did he think he’d ever see Sanada use internet slang. It’s weird, but also kind of hilarious.

Hold on let me call a professional in to negotiate

He catches Aigis’ attention and beckons her over. She’s by his side in a matter of seconds. “Yes Minato-san?” She asks. 

“What’s it gonna take for Koromaru to let me stand up?”

Koromaru makes a soft chuffing noise and Aigis hums. “Unfortunately, Koromaru-san, that is not an option. His presence was specifically requested.” 

Koromaru lets out a long sigh, like she’s asking him to haul the entire population of the dorm across the city all on his own, and not simply to move his own furry butt one couch cushion to the left. He gives a melancholy but thoughtful warble. 

Aigis nods smartly and turns to Minato. “He is requesting that Aragaki-san cook for him as soon as he comes back. Only if you promise this to him will you be allowed the use of your legs.” 

“Done.” Minato doubts it will take much convincing for Aragaki to spoil Koromaru with homemade food. He shoots another text to Sanada.

Aragaki’s cooking apparently

Koromaru isn’t much of a negotiator, is he? Shinji would do that anyway. Lol.

Hope Koro can’t read or I’m gonna be stuck here while he comes up with a new demand. Be there asap

Where is there btw

Oh! Right, sorry. We’ll wait for you by the big fountain at the center of Paulownia Mall.

K I’ll see you there

He decides to omit the detail that everyone else in the dorm will be coming as well. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, after all. 

Thanks. We appreciate it. 

Successfully bribed, Koromaru reluctantly scooches himself off Minato’s legs. Minato scratches under his chin and gently smushes his face until Koromaru lets out a cheerful little ‘ruff’. Hopefully that means Minato’s been absolved of his great sin in displacing him. 

“Shall I go fetch Amada-san?” Aigis asks. 

“Um. Fetch me for what?”

Everyone turns towards the stairs with a level of synchronicity that’s either eerie or hilarious, Minato can’t decide which.

Amada stands fidgeting on the bottom step, and judging by his expression he also isn’t sure whether to be amused or unsettled at seeing his older dorm mates suddenly channel a stand of flamingos.

“We have just received the news that Aragaki-san will be returning to the dorm within the week,” Aigis continues as if she doesn’t sense the slight tension in the air. “Sanada-san and Mitsuru-san have invited us to assist them in choosing a gift to commemorate the occasion. Would you like to accompany us in this endeavor?”

“He’s really well enough to come back? That’s great!” Amada has got one heck of a poker face– the only clue to the nerves hiding behind it is that his voice has tilted up half an octave. Minato’s impressed. “I would come along but–” His eyes alight on Koromaru and he seems inspired. Minato has to hand it to him for thinking on his feet like that too. “I promised Koromaru I would take him on a good, long walk today. Since it’s so nice out and it’s supposed to get cold again by tomorrow. Y-you know?”

If this is the first Koromaru is hearing about this agreement, he gives no indication. He chuffs happily and slinks off the couch, trotting to sit at Amada’s feet. His tail wags with so much gusto that his entire back end gently sways along with it.

“Well we definitely can’t let you break a promise to Koro-chan.” Yukari picks up the thread effortlessly. Her voice is warm and contains not a single note of pity. “Those sad puppy eyes he does are dangerous!”

Not for the first time, Minato is almost dizzy with gratitude for Yukari’s social graces. Thank god that someone on their team has them.

“Yeah,” Amada agrees, too relieved to fully hide it. “I’ve even seen Mitsuru-san cave to them! Um. Don’t tell her that, though. Anyway, I hope you guys have fun and I’ll see you later–!” He trips over his words in his effort to get them out quickly, and he almost trips over his house shoes too as he hastily swaps them out for his sneakers. And then he’s out the door, Koromaru bouncing joyfully in stride with him.

“How unfortunate,” Aigis laments with her usual mildness. “I had hoped that Amada-san’s participation in this exercise would help ease some of the anxiety he might be experiencing regarding Aragaki-san’s impending return.”

“Oh, Aigis,” Yukari sighs. “That’s a really sweet thought, but… It’s kind of more complicated than that.”

“I see,” Aigis says, in a way that gives the distinct impression that she doesn’t and isn’t sure what to do about it besides fall back on default social scripts. 

“Amada-kun might feel weird about helping to pick out a gift for Aragaki-senpai because of– everything,” Yukari says delicately, picking at her nail polish as she chooses her words. “He might think that Aragaki-senpai would be uncomfortable or wouldn’t want something that’s even partly from him. I don’t think Aragaki-senpai would actually feel that way, but…”

“I see,” Aigis says again, and this time it seems like she actually does. “Shall I apologize to Amada-san when I see him next, or would that be another ‘social blunder’?”

“I don’t think you need to apologize, Aigis,” Fuuka assures her. “I’m sure Amada-kun knows that you meant well.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, Ai-chan! You and Amada are cool, definitely.” Junpei claps once and starts walking backwards to the front door, arms spread theatrically. “Now, let’s get this show on the road, people! We can’t keep our senpais waitin’!”