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chleem · 2 months ago

Text

Not a big deal pt4

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament.

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ p3 | index | p5

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The ringing of your phone jolts you awake, no longer dreaming.

Your head throbs, the bright sunlight seeping through the curtains only adding to the ache. The loud ring of your phone makes it hard to focus, and for a moment, you can’t quite piece together where you are.

But the arm wrapped around you reminds you of just where you are, and who you’re with.

Slowly turning your face, you find yourself looking into Drew’s. He’s asleep, completely unaware to the loud ringing. His features are relaxed, eyelids closed, his breathing slow, and a small smile sits on his face.

What is he dreaming about?

You focus on memorizing every inch of Drew’s face, studying the soft lines, the way his lashes rest against his skin, the gentle curve of his lips.

A strange mix of disbelief and nostalgia swells inside you. He looks so much like the Drew from four years ago—the one you lost your virginity to.

Part of you wonders if he’s still that same person, or if he’s changed just as much as you have.

Your phone quiets down eventually, your caller giving up.

Well, at least you thought so. The ringing comes back, and this time, it causes Drew to flutter his eyes open. He rubs his eyes, yawning as he focuses his gaze to you. The small curve of his lips from earlier is replaced with a grin that stretches ear-to-ear, and his eyes hold a lazy look.

“Morning, baby,” his voice is deeper in the morning, a raspy coat layered on.

You mirror his smile, the nickname causing your heart to skip a beat, “morning.”

“How long have you been staring?”

“The whole night,” you teasingly say, which earns a low chuckle from him.

“No wonder I had a nightmare,” he jokes back, his arm going around you once again and pulling you close. He nudges his face into your neck, a groan escaping probably from the loud ringing phone, “who’s calling?”

You frown, your hand reaching behind you for your phone on the nightstand.

You glance at the screen, Luke. Your brother? Why on earth is he calling now?

“I just woke up,” you say, forcing out a groan, trying to sound as casual as possible. You can hear Luke moving around on the other end of the line—his footsteps shuffling.

“Shit, were you in a fucking coma? Open the fucking door.”

What.

Your heart sinks at the sudden shift in his tone, a sharp tension filling your chest. That last part… Open the door?

You push Drew away, immediately sitting up. “Um, what do you mean-“

“I’m outside your room. Did you not hear, I rang the-“

The rest of Luke’s words fly by your ear. You were wide awake now, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Luke’s outside of your door. Drew’s naked in your bed.

You know Luke. You know how he reacts to things like this. And it’s not going to be pretty. His temper is explosive, like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

You cover your microphone, and whisper to Drew, “get. out.”

“What?” Drew chuckles, his voice dropping to a softer tone, confused by your sudden urgency. “Why are we whispering?”

Right after, Luke stops himself mid-sentence, his voice cutting through the line, sharp and loaded with suspicion. “…wait, are you with someone?”

“Get out,” you slap Drew’s arm to get him moving, mouthing the words, “Luke’s outside!”

Drew’s eyes widen the same way yours did before. He stumbles off the bed, catching himself just before he crashes to the floor. It would be funny if you weren’t on the risk of getting caught by your brother. “No, just, just give me a minute, yeah? I’m getting ready-“

You get out of bed too, the phone propped on your shoulder. Drew and your clothes are scattered around the floor, mixed together.

You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the nightstand as Luke's complaining echoes through the room. Quickly, you put on your nightgown, searching for a clean pair of underwear.

You glance at Drew. He’s in his boxers, scrambling to find his pants. Is he trying to get caught? “Hurry,” you whisper-yell, looking around for his clothes.

Drew shoots you a blank stare, moving to the other side of the bed.

“Are you done yet? My legs are dying-“

“Almost! Just wait, okay?” You yell back at the phone.

“Y/n, seriously, been out here for forever-“

You find his button-up from last night tucked under the couch, and you toss into his arms. A chuckle escapes his lips as he barely catches it.

Drew walks past you with his shirt unbuttoned, tie and jacket in his hands. He grabs his shoes, and gets ready to open the door.

You quickly pull him back, “are you stupid?” You mean that with all your heart; Luke is literally on the other side of the door, and he wants to open it?

Instead, you swing open the bathroom door and shove Drew inside. "Stay here for a while, alright?”

"What, no—“

You slam the bathroom door shut without another word, then quickly turn to the front door, your hand already on the handle. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves before facing Luke.

Forcing a smile, the door opens, impatience written all over Luke’s face. “Finally,” he mutters, brushing past you. His rudeness isn’t a surprise—it’s just how he is.

You mumble something under your breath, closing the door behind you. Luke’s already sprawled out on your couch, legs propped up casually like he owns the place.

At the same time, both of you spot the wine glasses on the coffee table, their presence suddenly hanging in the air, adding a layer of tension you can’t ignore.

“Alright, where is he?” Luke asks, his voice low but demanding as he sits up, scanning the room to find the owner of the other glass.

Your first instinct is to stop him from getting anywhere near the bathroom. You quickly sit down beside Luke, your hand pushing him back onto the couch. “It’s... yours,” you say, the words coming out quicker than it should.

Luke looks at you, confusion flickering in his eyes, then down at the wine glass, before he narrows his gaze. “What are you talking about?” he asks, his tone sharp now, sensing- no, knowing something's off.

“Y’know, it’s a nice hotel, let’s have some coffee,” you say, a lame attempt at sounding casual. You grab the glasses, and with the coffee maker in the small kitchen, you press the open button.

Sneaking a glance at your brother, his gaze never leaves you, his tongue poking against his tongue.

“Latte? Oh, they have espresso,” you continue, keeping your voice steady, scrolling through the options.

“No,” his voice stops you, and you turn around, watching as he gets up. “I gotta leave anyways.”

This time, the smile on your face isn’t fake. “So soon?”

“Yeah, just came to check on you,” Luke gives you a tight smile, his hand reaching for the door handle. “I’ll send an Uber, ‘kay?”

You nod, a bit too eagerly that shows your interest in him leaving.

Although still suspicious, Luke gives you one last glance before opening the door and stepping out. “Take care of yourself,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he's unsure of what to make of the situation.

The door clicks shut behind him, and for a moment, all you can do is breathe, your shoulders relaxing for the first time since he walked in.

Finally.

Opening the bathroom door, you look around for Drew.

Only to find him laying in the bathtub, fully clothed, his tall figure awkwardly trying to fit in the small space. His arms are thrown out to either side, and his fingers fidget with his ring.

You lean against the doorframe, and when his blue eyes peek at you, a smile appears on his lips. “Hey,” he says, “made myself a home here, I guess.”

You chuckle at his words, and you sit down at the edge of the tub. “Real comfortable there.”

Drew lets out a breathy laugh, shifting lightly. He glances at his watch, the smile fading just a bit, “I’ve got to go too.”

Right, team practice.

A brief, almost impulsive thought crosses your mind—to ask him for his number, to stay in touch. Is that a ridiculous thought? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure why the idea is lingering, but it feels... right, somehow. Maybe because, despite everything, you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

At least, not with this Drew.

Your chain of thoughts breaks, with a tough tug on your wrist.

When you’ve come to your senses, you’re in the tub with him, seated in his lap.

The warmth radiating off of him is ridiculously comfortable, the blue eyes almost smitten as they look into yours.

You lean into him, closing your eyes, instinctively tilting your face toward his. You can feel the breath between you both, the tension building, and just as you’re about to close the distance—nothing.

No contact.

You peek at him through one eye, a little confused.

A throaty laugh escapes him, full of amusement.

Shyly, you move away, only to be pulled back towards him, his hand finding the back of your neck.

And then, he finally kisses you, gentle yet affectionate.

It feels different than last night; The kiss feels deeper, more meaningful, and the thought that it might end soon makes your chest tighten with an ache.

To last longer, you rest your arms around his neck, thrusting your tongue deeper into his mouth.

Another chuckle escapes Drew, and he pulls away this time.

With hooded eyes, you catch the soft smile on his lips. “Tryna get me in trouble?” The teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flutter, along with the way he stares at you.

“Maybe,” you giggle, and with a roll of your hips against him, he groans, his hands squeezing your waist. He rests his head at the rim of the tub, and you take the chance to kiss his neck.

“Could be late-“ his words come out hushed, as your tongue grazes over the soft skin of his neck, “a minute or two.”

“Mmhm,” you bring your lips back up to his, and you kiss him again, this time, hungry and demanding. Your hips roll against his, and you could feel his boner poking your inner thigh.

Your heart speeds up at the thought of doing it right here with Drew, in the bathtub.

One of his hand slips under your nightgown; kneading your ass.

It’s the way his blue eyes lustfully stare up at yours, that you continue rubbing your pussy against his lower abdomen.

Drew readjusts his position, to allow the dent in his pants to rub closer to your wet pussy, your hips riding off the closeness. His low grunts sounds like music to your ears, the occasional rise of his hips offering more satisfaction to your core.

“You like that?” Drew's voice, low and raspy, breaks the noise of soft moans and grunts, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Grinding on my cock?”

Fuck. Your brain races with the thoughts of last night, his cock buried deeply in you. The hard length fucking the senses out of you.

“Drew…” you moan out, sounding more desperate than expected. Your hands clutch on his suit jacket in tight fists, bouncing yourself on his clothed length.

A breathless chuckle leaves his mouth, his other hand resting at the back of your neck. You feel the rough and cold material of his ring against your jaw, his thumb grazing the skin of your bottom lip.

“Don’t stop, baby,” he coos, and you feel his dick twitch beneath you. The subtle movement sends your mind into further frenzy, encouraging the orgasm building inside of you.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

This time, the sound comes from inside the bathroom, in the tub, the phone that lays beside Drew’s thigh.

You don’t even glance at it, consumed with building your orgasm.

He’s not gonna answer anyways-

Drew picks it up, a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone.

A moan escapes your lips, and he sticks two fingers into your mouth, deep until it hits the back of your throat. Gagging, you cough out, which makes Drew chuckle softly, a mumbled “sorry” escaping his lips, followed by a quiet, ‘shhh.’

You feel a knot grow in your lower stomach, as he raises his hips and thrusts into yours. You suck at the fingers in your mouth, the ring rubbing against your cheek.

“Nothing- I’m working out,” he forces out, speaking into the phone. There’s a certain thrill in his voice, a hint of excitement that lingers as he speaks.

He couldn’t be honest and say currently having your sister ride against my cock.

Although, the thought turns him on more, and he feels another twitch down at his dick.

“Mhm,” he hums mindlessly into the phone, leaning his head back. His mouth parts in awe, forcing his eyes to stay open.

The hand on your ass grips tighter, averting all the desire to moan there.

Whimpering against his fingers, you feel the knot inside of you come undone, the warm juice flowing out and definitely staining your underwear.

You stop sucking his fingers, and you send him a lazy smile, your hips moving slower to ride your orgasm out. When you glance down at his pants, you can see the light stain, yours or his unsure.

“What, no-“ his brows furrow together, listening in on whoever’s on the other line.

You move back further until you’re no longer on his lap; tilting your head to study his face.

But Drew’s hand catches yours, and guides it to the bulge in his pants. He’s still hard.

You almost moan at the feeling of his thick length underneath your fingertips, Drew stifling back moans too.

With that, your hands work its magic; palming and massaging his dick, as Drew tries his best to listen intently on the phone.

“Mhm, yeah,” he agrees into the phone, his voice hitching slightly to hold back moans. You chuckle quietly at that, your hands continuing its touching of his clothed length.

His hand reaches for you once more, and when you straddle his waist again, it slides to the back of your neck. His lips crash against yours almost desperately, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your hands cup his face, kissing him back with the same urgency.

Drew groans into your lips, but not before hanging up on the phone. It drops inside the tub, the loud thud ignored by the both of you.

His orgasm flows through him; the liquid spilling out onto his boxer briefs.

The kiss breaks, and you both lean your foreheads together, gasping for air.

It’s silent, only the distant sound of AC running.

Then, a breathless laugh slips from you as you process what just happened.

“Who were you calling?” You ask, genuinely curious. Your thumb rubs circles on his cheek, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

There’s the same mischievous glint in his blue eyes, causing your stomach to twist slightly. “Best if you didn’t know,” he murmurs, his grip on your waist tightening as he straightens up.

You furrow your brows, ready to ask him more.

“You wanna have lunch together?" His suddenly asks, his voice softening.

The question catches you off guard. You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, your mind racing. Is it... a date? Of course it is. But... is that what you really want?

Well, four years ago you would’ve loved to go out with a dude named Drew.

But the reminder of your brother meeting with you later flashes by.

“Can’t,” you shrug apologetically at him, as the hand on the back of your neck starts to play with your necklace.

Having some fun of your own, you run your hands through his hair, the short strands brushing against your fingers. “Okay…dinner,” Drew suggests instead.

His blue eyes now stare pleadingly into yours, biting on his lower lip as he silently waits for your answer.

Okay. You’re leaving tomorrow night, it wouldn’t hurt to have a private meal with him.

You nod, reaching up to gently pull his lip away from his teeth, a soft smile tugging at your own.

The look in his eyes softens, a hint of curiosity flickering as he leans in a little closer. His hands leave you, reaching for his phone. ”Number?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. Just as you’re about to tell him, he adds, “not your brother’s, though.”

Your eyes furrow at his comment; what’s that supposed to mean?

But he just shakes his head, finding his own joke amusing, “no- never mind. Go ahead.”

Slowly, you tell him his number, and soon enough, you hear your own phone ringing in the background.

“Thanks, I’ll text you,” he kisses your cheek, gently shifting you off of him, “now, I really need to go.”

You watch as he gets up, and you immediately miss his warmth. He gets out the tub first, but not before turning around to offer his hand.

You smile at the simple yet soft gesture, and take it, letting him help you out the tub.

“I might see you later,” you tell him, as Drew leads you along with him, to the door.

“Really?” Drew’s hand catches the door handle, pushing it open. He turns back to face you, and with your hand still in his, he takes the opportunity to place a gentle kiss there. “I’m looking forward to that already.”

Why can’t he just skip practice?

“Alright,” you smile, taking your hand out of his, patting down the roughed part of his suit jacket, “get out of here.”

His lips curve into a half-smile, and he gives a playful shrug as he takes a step back. "Bossy," he teases, his voice light but warm, “see you.”

The soft click of the door closing echoes in the quiet room.

With your back against the door, you slide down to the floor, your legs pulling up as you wrap your arms around them.

Blush creeps onto your cheeks as your mind races, replaying the moments with Drew—the look in his eyes, the feel of his lips on your skin, the way he seemed so different, yet so familiar.

You close your eyes, leaning your head against the door, trying to shake off the warmth still lingering in your chest.

Why does it feel like there's more to it than just... whatever that was? You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know one thing for sure: this wasn’t how you imagined your visit here to be like.

——

You’ve never been to a real basketball stadium before.

At first, the staff was unexpectedly rude, shutting you down before you even had a chance to introduce yourself. Just as things seemed hopeless, the manager stepped in, recognizing your name and quickly handing you a ‘visitor’ badge.

He guides you through narrow corridors, until you make it into a more promising section of the place. The air was filled with the scent of fresh gear, and before you knew it, you passed by one of the locker rooms. You catch a brief glimpse inside - a few tall, fit, shirtless dudes who walked around, chatting away.

Even at your grown-up age, seeing half-naked guys still made you fluster, averting your gaze.

Following the manager, the path leads to a visible court ahead, the bright lights blinding into the small tunnel. The loud sounds of dribbling and sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor echo, growing louder with each step.

Stepping out the tunnel, the staff leads you to the front seats, finding one that isn’t occupied by towels or bags.

Something about an empty stadium with only its players sends a weird feeling to your brain - the scene surreal somehow.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, who just nods, walking away.

Sitting down on the black leathered seat, you look out at the court, taking in the players currently practicing.

Your instincts kick in, and you scan the floor— spotting Drew, even with his team members running around and dribbling. He's easy to find, his tall frame and confident stride standing out as he lines up for a three-pointer.

The ball leaves his hands with a smooth flick, arcing toward the hoop, and you watch as it swishes through the net.

Shit. It’s the way he nonchalantly grabs another ball from the rack, dribbles it once, twice, before casually sinking another three-pointer, his expression completely unbothered that gets you. Other than your heart, something else is throbbing inside of you.

Like magnets, your eyes focus solely on Drew, even more when you realize the waistband of Calvin Klein peeking out from his shorts. And of course, the v-line that follows-

Thwack!

A ball hits you square in the face, snapping you out of your trance. The sharp impact leaves you blinking, momentarily stunned.

Slowly, pain creeps into your right jaw, mostly centered there.

Great. Sitting down for what, not even five minutes?

As you raise your hand to your face, trying to steady yourself from the blow, the blurry figure of a man slowly comes into focus. He looks flustered as he stammers an apology, but you don’t respond. The pain in your jaw is all-consuming, your head still spinning from the unexpected hit.

“What the fuck, man!”

The loud yell of your brother cuts through the stadium, sharp and full of anger. You don’t even have time to react before he’s charging toward you, his face red. Without hesitation, he roughly shoves the man in front of you, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

For fuck’s sake, your brother’s outrage might be more frustrating than being hit by a ball…. Does he always have to cause a scene? What a drama queen.

Even with the pain radiating through your jaw, you manage to drag your hand up and pull the edge of Luke’s shorts. The movement is slow, but it’s enough to make him turn around immediately.

“Shit, y/n, you okay?” He tones his voice down, his features softening as he sits down beside you.

The lights above you start to drown out; which was because of the crowd gathering around you. They pretend to take a break- but everyone knows it’s to catch a glimpse of a fight threatening to erupt between Luke and his teammate.

The ache is unbearable, and yet you still manage to lock eyes with Luke. Through clenched teeth, you choke out, “you idiot.”

Luke's eyes widen, guilt flooding his features. Hesitating, his hand hovers near your shoulder, unsure of what to do.

“Get me an ice pack, dummy,” you rasp, voice thick with frustration.

Luke winces at your tone, and you catch the muffled laughter from his teammates.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, “I’ll get it.” He hurries off, without another word.

The guy that hit you with the ball apologies once again, and you reassure that you’re okay. Your eyes drift over to the other players, who immediately pretend to be busy with something else.

You sigh, closing your eyes, as you lean back into the chair. The noise and ruffling of bags fade away as you focus on the pain, trying to relieve it. You place your hands in your lap, relaxing yourself.

But not even a minute in, a soothing, familiar voice brings you back.

“Hey baby,”

You crack your eyes open, and there he is, standing in front of you, a concerned smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His blue eyes stare down at you, the gleam in them brighter than the stadium lights.

Drew.

Your brain immediately replays the scenes of this morning— his lips against yours, his hands all over you, and the call during the…sex?

He doesn’t wait for an answer; simply sits down beside you, his presence warm and steady. You can feel the tension in his body as he watches you carefully, fidgeting with his hands that lay on his lap.

The uncontrollable ache in your chest isn’t from the pain, but rather nervous. Fuck. He probably saw the whole process of Luke getting mad! Now you’re embarrassed. Your face is definitely swollen, red, ugly-

“Um, I’ve been hit…multiple times too,” he carefully starts, and you avert your gaze to his face, locking eyes with him. “Ice packs don’t, really work.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, your lips in a small frown as you wonder where he’s going with this.

His eyes flicker to his teammates, who are clearly stealing glances at the two of you. The quiet murmurs around you seem to make him shift slightly, though, and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the space between you two. His body scoots closer, letting his knee rests against yours.

The contact is casual, but it sends an unexpected jolt of warmth through you. You catch yourself glancing down at where your legs meet.

His voice lowers just a touch, teasing, “kissing…much better.”

You blink, caught off-guard by his words. The smirk on his lips only deepens, his gaze locked on yours. “Official recommendation?” You manage to say, reflecting the teasing tone back at him.

He shrugs, sending you an air-kiss, his lips pursed in a playful manner. “Worked in the past.”

“And how many…have you offered?” You jokingly ask, a small smile now present on your lips, as your body relaxes itself in his presence.

Now it’s Drew’s turn, taken aback by your reply. You giggle at that, as he licks his lips, nodding slowly. He rests an arm over the back of your seat, fingers brushing your back and burning the skin there.

“You caught me,” Drew says, readjusting his hips to angle his body inches closer (even more close; if that’s even possible) to you. “…just wanted to kiss you…again.”

The words are barely above a whisper, but you hear it.

You swallow, trying to keep the flutter in your chest under control, but the soft touches he starts giving on your back makes it hard. His fingers rub circles on the bare skin that your top doesn’t cover; making your heart skip a beat.

It feels like you’re back in high school again, a silly crush.

Or rather, the specific crush you had on the Drew from WCU.

Drew’s gaze flicks down to your lips for a moment, a slight shift in his expression that’s almost too subtle to notice — but you catch it. His eyes meet yours again, and you can sense a change, something a little deeper in his look now, less playful and more... intent.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice now softer, changing the topic. The teasing from before has faded, replaced by something a little more earnest. “Feeling better, at least?”

“Yes,” you reply with a smile. The pain was long forgotten since he sat down. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head lightly, before muttering, “as long as you’re okay,” the sincerity in his voice palpable. You feel a strange warmth spreading in your chest, the kind that makes you forget all the chaos around you.

“Um, do you like the place I sent?” Drew changes the topic, and you quickly understand what he’s referencing—he texted you with an address earlier, just before practice. A restaurant that looks like it belongs in a hidden corner of an old European city.

You get ready to say yes, that it’s great, but of course, your eyes drift over his shoulder, and you see the faint image of Luke running over.

The moment- over, just like that.

You quickly look away from Drew, and sensing the change, he sits up, adjusting his position away from you. His hand back in his lap, his knee no longer resting against yours; he creates an invisible border between you two.

It stings for a moment; but your brother reaching you distracts it.

“Here,” Luke hands you the ice pack, breathing heavily. You take it, placing it against your jaw as Luke’s eyes flicker over to Drew beside you, acting nonchalant. “Starkey.”

Drew looks up at the call of his last name, a tight smile on his lips, “yeah?”

“In my seat,” Luke replies, his voice casual but the tone carrying an underlying edge, even though the other seat beside you was empty.

To which, Drew glances over your shoulder, at the said seat. But Luke doesn’t follow his gaze. Instead, his eyes stay locked on Drew, and you can almost feel the tension between them, thick and unspoken. Drew's posture shifts slightly, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to protest.

But he doesn’t.

With a small shrug, Drew stands up, walking past Luke to the court. He doesn’t turn around for another glance; and joins another teammate to practice.

Luke drops to the chair that was previously occupied, and his body relaxes, his features softening. “You alright?” He asks again.

“Took you long enough,” you complain instead, turning your body towards the court. Unknowingly you had your body shifted over to Drew when he was still sitting here.

Luke doesn’t react; his glare enough to melt the ice pack. “I could get him benched, y’know?”

You glance at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "What?" You ask, raising an eyebrow, your heart sinking slightly. “Drew? He was just checking up on me-“

“Smith, the one that hit you.”

Oh.

Well, unless it was Drew, you truly cared less.

“No, Luke, it was an accident,” you shrug, trying to sound sincere. Your eyes follow Drew on the court, as he successfully jumps and bats the ball out of the other player’s hands.

“Yeah…no,” Luke mutters, clear that he’s definitely telling the coach. His eyes follow your gaze, and he pokes your shoulder roughly to get your attention. Tearing your eyes away from Drew, you send him a glare. “What did, uh, Drew talk to you about?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter slightly, but ultimately shrug, playing it casually, “he asked if I was fine. That’s all.”

Luke looks at you, clearly not persuaded.

“Nothing big,” you add on, sending him a smile.

The ice pack starts to melt in your hands, and noticing it, Luke reaches over to a bag (probably his) and takes a towel out. He hands it to you, but you just narrow your eyes at it, unsure.

“Relax; it’s unused,” Luke says, and reluctantly you take it. You wrap it around the ice pack, putting it on your jaw again. “I don’t think so- Starkey’s full of shit.”

“More than you?” You tease, earning another poke on your shoulder from him.

A part of you wanted to know what your brother meant; another part of you didn’t. Even if he was an asshole, you didn’t want to know. At least, not now, when it’s your vacation, and this lovely dream is washing over you.

“I’m hungry,” you cut whatever Luke wants to say, standing up. “Is the, I don’t know, food court open?”

Luke watches you stand, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watches you, clearly weighing whether or not he should push further. But you can tell he’s deciding against it.

“Nah, that shit’s ass,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips as he stands up. He throws an arm over you, adding extra weight to your shoulders. “I’know a place.”

The strong smell of his sweat hits you; the aftermath of practicing all morning. Your face scrunches up in disgust, as he leads you to the tunnels again, “shower first, you smell like shit.”

He laughs, unfazed, and squeezes your shoulder.

And as the two of you walk towards the locker rooms, Drew watches, his eyes lingering just a second too long.

——

The lack of effort your brother brings truly is, amazing. Blows your mind every. time.

The restaurant he brings you to is the same one as last night, expect well, it’s noon, menu’s different, and oh, you’re sitting outside.

“Anything else?” The waitress says, as she bats her eyelashes over at your brother.

With a cocky grin on his face, he gestures the waitress to lean forward. And when she does, he whispers in her ear, causing her to nod enthusiastically. Great, now he’s even flirting with the staff.

“Food will arrive shortly,” she shyly says, walking away.

Once she’s gone, the discontent is evident on your face, the frown deepening as you cross your arms. “Seriously?” You almost bark at him, causing him to flinch.

“What?” He shrugs, oblivious to your frustration.

“It’s the same place as last night,” you tell him, gesturing around.

“…that’s why we’re here,” Luke says, with that stupid grin on his face, “Hawk players eat here free.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeper at his words, your gaze shifting to the stunning garden view. Now that you’re really looking at it, the place is beautiful—a secret little oasis that could’ve come straight out of a fairytale.

It’s Luke’s rough kick under the table that snaps you back to reality, your attention shifting to him as he gives you a…rather serious look.

“So who were you fucking last night?”

“Luke!” You whisper-yell at him, glancing around. Okay, not a lot of people sitting outside. “You can’t just ask that-“

“C’mon, I’m not a fucking idiot,” he interrupts, leaning back in his chair. It’s clear he didn’t buy whatever you said this morning, his eyes scanning you with the annoying know-it-all look. “You forgot how well I know you, y/n.”

With a roll of your eyes, you press your lips together. No way were you telling him.

Luke scratches his eyebrow, a frown taking over his face. He falls quiet, clearly lost in thought, before his eyes light up with some idea. “How about this…a secret for a secret?”

How ridiculous. This isn’t some middle school game.

“Luke, forget it, I’m not telling you who it was.”

“Ha! So you were with someone,” he exclaims, gently tapping the table.

Your shoulders drop in exasperation, and you give him a seriously? look.

Maybe because it’s the first time (other than Zack) that your brother has actually caught you with someone. The thought makes you cringe, the idea of him knowing about that part of your personal life. It’s always been a no-go zone, same for him.

You open your mouth to tell him off, but he starts his own conversation.

“I fucking hate Drew Starkey.”

The sudden mention of his name catches you off guard, and you freeze, the words hanging in the air. The change in your brother’s demeanor is immediate—his usual cocky attitude replaced with something colder, sharper. It’s unsettling.

However, can’t help but think, Okay…so he is sharing a secret.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, unsure whether you actually want to know more. You’d already cut him off earlier, back at the court.

“I tried…I tried liking him, and shit, it’s impossible,” Luke laughs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m still petty after all these years, but-“

His eyes meet yours, and seeing how confused you are, his tensed features relax slightly. He looks at you like you're missing something obvious, like he’s just about to reveal a truth you've been blind to.

“Do you not fucking recognize him?”

You swallow hard, feeling your stomach tighten. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your brother truly hate someone, different from his usual short-tempered self.

“Fuck- he’s the guy I lost the championship to? WCU? Setting my career back-“

His words fade into the background, replaced by a loud sting in your mind.

You blink, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on you as you slowly sink back into your seat. The cool surface of the chair feels oddly grounding against the storm of thoughts swirling in your head.

Drew—that Drew, the one who had been your brother's rival, the one he'd spent years trying to beat—the one you lost your virginity to.

The one…you slept with last night. Fuck- that’s why he looks so familiar! The face, his attitude, his jokes- shit.

The memories come rushing in, vivid and jagged, each one like a slap in the face.

You can almost hear the loud music from that frat party, the sound of Drew's voice as he took away your first time - when he rejected you.

“I really like you,” he suddenly admits.

“But you don’t want me,” you say, finding his sudden confession really stupid, not at all flattering to hear.

“Don’t say that.”

“But that’s what you said.”

“Do you like me too?”

You blink again, trying to steady your breath, but the air feels thick.

Your chest tightens, the pressure of everything unsaid between you and Drew settling heavily on your shoulders.

You’ve always thought you were over it—over Drew, over that night, over everything. But the realization hits you now, sharp and unexpected: you weren’t.

You force yourself to focus on Luke’s voice again, but it’s like you’re hearing it underwater. Everything feels muffled, distorted.

“I mean, every time I see that fucking face, I just wanna-“

Shit. Tonight. Your date with Drew.

“-Worse, coach thinks we’re ‘prefect’ together, so I always have to look out for him-“

You no longer have the courage to meet him, the confidence you’ve gathered all destroyed, shattered by your own thoughts. It’s as if every word Luke says is a reminder of how messy everything with Drew really is.

“Fuck- I deserved that win more than anything,” he mumbles on, pettiness written all over his face.

Luke’s words echo in your mind, but you don’t respond.

Your thoughts are loud enough to drown out everything else.

——

Drew sits on the edge of the fountain, just outside the restaurant. The stone surface feels cool beneath him as he stares at the water, the soft ripples catching the dim light.

It’s been nearly thirty minutes, and ever so often, his eyes flicker upward, searching for any sign of you. He’s trying to steady his nerves, but the longer he waits, the more the uncertainty gnaws at him.

Did you stand him up?

He checks his phone screen again- hundreds of texts but none from you.

A bitter smile tugs at his lips as he stares down at his lap, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He’s just here, waiting, when the answer is so painfully obvious.

“Not a big deal,” Drew mutters to himself, trying to convince his racing thoughts otherwise. He repeats the words again, more firm this time, “not, a big deal.”

He sighs, his eyes darting around as he avoids the curious stares of passersby. The minutes drag on, each one heavier than the last. He waits. waits. and waits.

But you never show up.

-------------------------------

word count: 6.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: FINALLY. i sat down, stared at my laptop, and the words just exploded out of me. sorry i took so long T_T be a bae and ignore any typos xo

do you guys like smaller or bigger fonts? just found out how it change it, and must say, damnnnn. the difference it makes is crazy.

other | index | pt3 | final

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #fiction #mini series #strangers to lovers #smut #fluff #angst #part 4

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snowysosturn · 12 days ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguments, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

I sat cross legged at the small vanity in my room, blending out the last bit of highlighter on my cheekbones. My outfit I had planned to wear was already laid out on the bed behind me, ready for the evening ahead. My hair was half done, still tied back loosely as I finished off my makeup. It felt nice to have a little time to myself to unwind and prepare, especially after the long day of travelling.

I was in the middle of putting eyeliner in my waterline when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in" I called out, not looking away from the mirror as I focused on not poking my eye.

The door creaked open, and I glanced at the reflection to see Matt stepping in, a glass in his hand. "Vodka lemonade" he said, his voice still carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who had had a little too much to drink.

I turned fully to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered what I drink?"

He shrugged, his grin lopsided but genuine. "Of course. Hard to forget when its the only thing you drink"

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass from him. "Thanks, I guess" I said, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. The moment it hit my tongue, I winced, coughing slightly. "Oh my god Matt! All I can taste is vodka!"

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe like it was holding him upright. "Yeah well, you’ve got some catching up to do. Consider it motivation."

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the vanity. "It’s almost like you’re trying to kill me" I teased, but there wasn’t any bite to my words.

He gave me a wink, nearly stumbling in the process, and we both laughed. For a moment, it was like we never hated each other. It was weird. Today, we’d actually been nice to each other. From the plane to downstairs to now, it was almost like we’d turned a corner. Or maybe the alcohol had simply dulled his usual sarcasm.

Matt straightened up and glanced around my room, his eyes landing on the green crochet outfit on the bed. "That what you’re wearing tonight?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Yep" I said, turning back to the mirror to finish my eye makeup. "I’m just hoping it comes to get the way I have it in my head."

"Bet it’ll look good" he said, his tone softer than I expected. When I glanced back at him, he was already heading out the door. "Hurry up though. Dinner waits for no one, especially when you’re as drunk as I am."

"I’ll be down soon" I replied, watching as he gave me a lazy wave and disappeared into the hallway. After Matt left my room, I set the vodka lemonade on the dresser, deciding to pace myself as I continued getting ready. As I stood back to admire the final look, I adjusted my halterneck top, making sure everything sat just right.

I slipped on my nude heels, grabbed a small clutch, and downed half of the vodka lemonade Matt had brought up. The burn of vodka was strong, but he wasn’t wrong, I did have catching up to do if I wanted to match their buzz. By the time I walked down to the foyer, everyone was gathered there.

“You took long enough” Nick teased with a grin as I joined them.

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas” I shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

We stepped out of the villa together, the warm evening breeze carrying the faint scent of sea salt. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but navigating the uneven path in heels was proving to be a challenge. After a few steps, I stumbled slightly on a dip in the road.

“You alright?” Matt asked, catching up to me.

“Yeah, these heels and this road aren’t exactly the best of friends, a bit like us” I muttered, half laughing at myself.

Without saying a word, he offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment before looping my hand through it.

“Don’t make it weird” he said, smirking down at me.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it” I replied with a sarcastic smile, though I appreciated the gesture.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy spot with string lights draped across the patio. As we approached our reserved table, I heard Nick let out a quiet yell.

“What are you guys doing here?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

I looked up to see a couple seated at our table, their parents. Their mom stood up with a wide smile, pulling Nick into a hug.

“We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few days” she said warmly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

Their dad chimed in, “But don’t worry, we’re staying on the opposite side of the island. We’re not here to crash your whole trip.”

Nick let out a laugh, still processing the surprise. Chris and Matt looked equally stunned but pleased to see them.

The waiter approached to seat us, and we quickly rearranged our tables, one table with four seats and one table with three. I glanced at Matt, who caught my eye with an amused look.

“This should be fun” he said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t figure out how drunk you three are” I whispered back, earning a small chuckle from him.

We settled into our seats, Nate sat across from me, Matt was next to him, and Chris was beside me, while Nick took one of the seats at the table with his parents.

Chris leaned forward toward his parents while pointing at me, his tone casual yet proud as he introduced me to his parents. “This is Y/n” he said. “She works with me for Fresh Love. We’ve been working hard on the new drop, couldn’t do it without her!.”

I smiled politely, but before I could say anything, Nick chimed in from the other table, his grin as wide as ever. “And she’s also my best friend” he added, his playful tone leaving no room for debate.

Their mom smiled warmly, nodding in approval, but the moment didn’t last long. Nick dove into conversation with his parents, leaving the four of us at our table to converse with each other.

Nate glanced up at Matt and Chris, his lips curling into a smirk. “Actually, I never asked how’d Vegas treat you two? Looked like you guys were.. occupied” he said, his words almost like he was implying something.

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Occupied is one way to put it. Christina practically glued herself to Matt” he teased, earning a scoff from Matt.

Hearing another woman’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no reason to feel jealous, and yet, the idea of Matt being drooled over by someone else stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite place. It was irrational, and I knew it, so I kept my thoughts to myself, silently picking at the edge of my napkin.

Nick’s voice broke the conversation as he turned to Chris. “Hey, wanna head outside for some pictures real quick before we order?”

Chris nodded, standing up and following Nick without hesitation, leaving just me, Matt, and Nate at the table.

There was a brief moment of silence before their mom, who I assume was half listening to our earlier conversation, leaned over with a smile. “So Nate, do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not at all” he replied, his tone light.

Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. “Harsh one.” He snickered under his breath, looking directly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his comment. Before I could even ask what he meant, Matt took things further. He smirked and leaned back in his chair, his voice loud and clear. “Y/n and Nate went on a date last week, you know that?”

My heart sank, my face flushing red as all eyes seemed to land on me.

“What?” I stammered, but Nate jumped in before I could say anything more.

“It wasn’t like that at all” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We just grabbed dinner as friends.”

Matt wasn’t ready to let it go, though. “Oh, come on, Y/n” he teased, his voice making a mockery out of me. “Why so quiet? Feeling the sting of public rejection?”

My stomach twisted in humiliation. I could feel my face burning as I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone at the table. The old Matt was back just like that.

“Matt, stop being so rude” their mom interjected sharply, her tone firm. She turned back to her husband, trying to steer the conversation away from Matt’s antics.

“Yeah c’mon man we’re just friends” Nate tried to make it clear.

But Matt wasn’t done. His next words hit like a punch to the gut. “Oof, imagine just being a quick fuck and then friendzoned.”

The air left my lungs. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. None of what he said was true, but the damage was done.

“I.. I’m actually not feeling the best right now.. I think it's the heat.. excuse me” I said quickly, my voice cracking as I stood up. I turned to their parents, forcing a polite smile through the lump in my throat. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the table, the tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.

As I pushed through the entrance, I nearly ran into Nick and Chris, who were heading back inside.

“Y/n?” Chris asked, his expression immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well” I mumbled, not stopping to explain. Before either of them could say another word, I kept walking, desperate to escape the restaurant, the humiliation, and, most of all, Matt.

I still felt the heat on my face, not from the warm Hawaiian night, but from the lingering embarrassment curling in my stomach. I really hoped his parents didn’t hear him say that. I was halfway down the quiet street when I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me.

“Y/n, wait!”

I clenched my jaw, picking up my pace, but Matt was faster, jogging until he caught up beside me. “Come on, don’t be like that” he said, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

I stopped abruptly, whipping around to face him. “Oh, really? Because bringing up that in front of your parents sure didn’t make me feel like the star of the evening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor fading. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just messing around, you know how I am-”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem.” I turned back around, ready to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” His voice was softer now, the arrogance stripped away. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “And yet it did.”

He exhaled heavily, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with some half assed apology.

“Y/n” he tried again, “I just-”

“I don’t care, Matt.” My voice was cold, firm. “You always do this. Say something without thinking, then act like it’s not a big deal when it is. I don’t need an apology. I just need you to stop.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out a way to fix this, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. So I stepped around him and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the dimly lit street, finally at a loss for words.

He didn’t follow me this time. Maybe he finally got the message, or maybe he knew pushing it any further would only make things worse. Either way, I didn’t care. My chest still burned from embarrassment, and my head was buzzing with frustration as I made my way back toward the villa.

I reached the villa, slamming the door behind me before kicking off my heels and making my way to the room. The relief of being alone and actually having a bedroom door for privacy was short lived because not even five minutes later, there was a knock.

I sighed, already knowing who it was. “Go away, Matt.”

“Just let me in for a second” he called through the door. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in his voice made me hesitate. It wasn’t his usual cocky tone. It sounded.. tired. Frustrated, even.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and swung it open. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Matt stepped inside, his jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Look” he started, pausing for a second before meeting my eyes. “I was a dick. I know that.”

I folded my arms. “Great self awareness. Anything else?”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to be funny, or maybe I was just being an idiot, probably both. But I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

I scoffed. “You said I was a quick fuck that got friendzoned, Matt. How else was that supposed to come out?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it” I shot back, my voice rising. “In front of your parents, no less. Do you even think before you speak, or do you just say the first thing that pops into your head?”

“I-” He stopped, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think you’d care so much.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Care? Are you serious? You embarrassed me, Matt. You made me look like some desperate fool who got used and thrown away. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or something worse. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” I continued, folding my arms. “It’s not just what you said, it’s that you acted like you knew everything. Like you had some inside joke at my expense. And for what? A laugh?”

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my voice rising. “Because you made it sound like I was some easy target for Nate. And for the record, nothing ever even happened between us.”

Matt’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” I snapped. “That night? Seven Minutes in Heaven? We didn’t even kiss. We sat there and talked, thought we’d mess with everyone's heads. And when we went out when you were in Vegas, and we made it clear we were just friends. There was nothing more to it.”

Matt blinked, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. “So you-”

“I never hooked up with Nate.” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Not then. Not ever. So whatever picture you had in your head, whatever assumptions you made, they were wrong.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands still shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, you didn’t” I said bitterly. “Because you never asked. You just assumed.”

I could see it sinking in, the weight of his words finally hitting him, but I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I just felt tired.

Matt let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah” I said, my voice flat. “You were.”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to say more, but I was done.

“I don’t have the energy for this” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m done, Matt. I don’t care how sorry you are. Just leave me alone. It’s best if we just stay out of each other's way for the rest of the trip.”

His jaw tensed, but this time, he didn’t fight it. He just nodded.

“Alright” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

I didn’t reply. I just closed the door, locking it this time.

a/n : everything is .. not changing?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

#snowy speaks #fire & desire #snowys sturniolo series #snowys series #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #enemies to lovers #matt sturniolo fanfic

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kaiyunsim · 10 days ago

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heavy —

pairing : classmate!riku x gn!reader

summary : a sleepy riku catches your eye during class, so you decide to help him catch up.

warning : fluff, VERY sleepy riku, idk he’s just really cute

a/n : something from my drafts as i take my break. ilysm riku pls come back. (he’s my nct ult).

queueing : heavy - the marías

— wc : 1.0k — not proof read —

it starts with riku nodding off again. his head dips lower and lower, dark lashes fluttering against his cheek as he fights a losing battle with sleep. you're sitting two rows behind him, and you can see the way his pen slowly slides out of his grip until it clatters to the desk, startling him awake for a moment. he blinks around in confusion, mumbles something under his breath, and then, just like that, he’s out again.

this isn’t a rare occurrence. maeda riku is known for being the sleepy one in class, always managing to snag a seat by the window so he can rest his head against the cool glass. at first, you’d thought it was just laziness or boredom, but over time, you’ve realized it’s just part of who he is. naturally laid-back, with a tendency to doze off whenever things get too quiet. and honestly, you find it kind of endearing. there’s something almost peaceful about the way he naps, like he’s perfectly content in his own little world.

still, you can’t help but feel a little bad for him when it means he misses parts of the lecture. the teacher’s voice drones on, oblivious to riku’s half-conscious state, and when the class finally ends, riku jerks awake with a sharp inhale, looking around as if trying to piece together where he is. his notebook is mostly blank except for a few messy scribbles at the top of the page.

as everyone files out of the classroom, you linger by your desk, watching him. he’s rubbing his eyes now, yawning so wide it makes your jaw ache in sympathy. before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your notes and walk over to him.

"hey," you say softly, not wanting to startle him. he looks up, eyes a little glassy from sleep. up close, you notice the faint crease on his cheek where he must’ve leaned against his arm.

"oh, hey," he says, voice scratchy. "did class end already?"

"yeah," you reply, holding out your notes. "i thought you might need these. you seemed pretty tired."

his eyes widen slightly as he looks at the papers in your hand. "oh, uh, thanks. but you don’t have to—"

"i want to," you interrupt, smiling a little. "besides, it’s not a big deal. i’m already caught up, so it’s just copying for you."

riku hesitates, but eventually, he takes the notes from you with a small, grateful smile. "thanks. really. i’ll get them back to you tomorrow."

"no rush," you say, shrugging. "if you need help with anything, just let me know."

and that’s how it starts.

the next day, riku returns your notes, meticulously copied onto his own paper. you’re a little surprised by how neat his handwriting is, given how messy it looked when he tried to write during class. he thanks you again, and you tell him it’s no problem. but when he starts nodding off halfway through the next lecture, you pass him a quick note: want me to explain this later?

he glances back at you, a bit sheepish, and nods before dozing off after an attempt of staying awake. after school, you sit together in the library, going over the parts he missed. riku listens intently, occasionally asking questions or scribbling down notes. he’s quieter than you expected, but there’s something calming about it… like he’s genuinely absorbing everything you’re saying.

"you’re a good teacher," he says at one point, looking up from his notebook with a faint smile.

"and you’re a good student," you reply, grinning. "when you’re not asleep, that is."

his ears turn pink, and he laughs softly. "yeah, sorry about that. i’m just... a sleepy person, i guess."

"it’s fine," you say, shrugging. "it’s actually kind of cute."

his blush deepens, and he looks away, pretending to focus on his notes. "thanks... i think."

from then on, it becomes a routine. whenever riku dozes off in class, you’re there to fill in the gaps. sometimes it’s as simple as handing him your notes; other times, you’ll sit together after school, going over the material until he feels confident enough to handle it on his own. he’s always polite, always grateful, and you can’t help but feel a little proud when you see his grades slowly improving.

but it’s not just about academics. as the weeks go by, you start to learn more about riku. he loves music, often humming under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. he has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard, making you laugh at the most unexpected moments. and he’s surprisingly thoughtful. once, he brought you a coffee after noticing you seemed tired, mumbling something about how it’s only fair since you’ve helped him so much.

"you didn’t have to do that," you tell him, touched by the gesture.

"yeah, but i wanted to," he says, echoing your own words from that first day. his smile is small but genuine, and it makes your chest feel warm.

one afternoon, as you’re sitting together in the library, riku glances at you and says, "you know, i’ve never really had someone look out for me like this before."

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head.

he shrugs, fiddling with the corner of his notebook. "i guess i’ve always been the type to just... figure things out on my own. it’s nice, though. having someone to rely on."

you’re not sure what to say to that, so you just smile and reply, "well, you can rely on me anytime."

his eyes soften, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, the sounds of the library fading into the background. it’s a simple moment, but it feels significant… like something unspoken has shifted between you.

from then on, your study sessions start to feel less like a chore and more like an excuse to spend time together. riku still struggles with staying awake in class, but now he’ll catch your eye and give you a small, apologetic smile, as if to say, sorry, i’ll make it up later. and he always does.

one day, as you’re packing up your things, riku clears his throat and says, "hey, do you want to grab some food or something? you’ve been helping me so much, and i feel like i owe you."

"you don’t owe me anything," you say, smiling. "but i’d love to."

he grins, looking both relieved and a little nervous. "cool. there’s this place nearby that has really good ramen."

"sounds perfect," you reply, and for the first time, you see him look truly awake, bright-eyed and excited, like he’s finally found something that energizes him.

as you walk together, talking about everything and nothing, you realize that helping riku wasn’t just about academics. it was about connection, about seeing someone who needed support and offering it without expecting anything in return. and in the process, you’ve found something unexpected. a friendship that feels as natural as breathing, and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something more.

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2amriize · 2 months ago

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.ᐟ class president RIIZE reaction to sneaky!reader ༉‧₊˚.

req: I remember myself in high school i was always very late and sneaking so the school principal wouldn’t catch me (i get caught every time😇) so what about (riize class president with a sneaky girlfriend ) I’m curious to know how would they act Especially when she do it every day 📚❤️❤️

note: its been a long time since i wrote 'long' reactions. this was really fun to write! i really love it ♥

pairing: class president!riize x sneaky!gf!reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

You needed to pass economics, but it was way too difficult for you. After a tutoring session with your teacher, they decided you’d need to stay after school and study with the class president. Luckily (or maybe not), the president happened to be your boyfriend, so you figured it might even be fun.

After a few weeks of studying together, you realized that while you enjoyed spending time with Shotaro, you absolutely hated economics. No matter how hard you tried, it didn’t make sense to you. Shotaro kept saying you were improving, but you felt like he was just trying to motivate you.

That day, you’d had enough. You were exhausted from school and your friends had invited you to grab bubble tea after class. Without a second thought, you decided to ditch your tutoring session with Shotaro.

Not even half an hour later, Shotaro walked into the bubble tea shop where you were with your friends. His expression showed a hint of disappointment as he approached you.

“Really, y/n?”

Hearing his tone, you thought he was mad, so you quickly stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Taro, I was just...”

“No, don’t say anything… I’ll forgive you if you buy me a drink and promise not to do it again. Honestly, I was kind of tired today too…” he said with a small smile, gently brushing his hand against your cheek.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You hated history; learning about the past just bored you to death. That’s why you’d told your teacher you weren’t feeling well and needed to rest in the nurse’s office, giving you the perfect excuse to skip class. Luckily, the nurse’s office was empty, so you got comfortable on one of the beds while watching videos on your phone.

The door suddenly opened, and when you looked up, you were surprised to see your boyfriend, Eunseok. Once he noticed you weren’t in your seat, he had asked the teacher what had happened. As soon as he heard you’d “felt unwell,” he knew it was a lie.

“You hate history that much?” he said, closing the door behind him and shaking his head as he approached your bed.

You tried to hide your phone, but Eunseok was quicker, grabbing it and sighing when he saw you were just watching gameplay videos.

“You know how much I hate it…” you said, meeting his gaze.

“You’re going back to class, aren’t you?” you asked, knowing the answer before he nodded, gently brushing your hair with his hand.

“Fine… but can’t we stay here for just five minutes?”

Eunseok hesitated, unsure if this was another ploy to avoid class. After a few moments, he relented, lying down beside you on the small bed to watch the video together.

“But only five minutes, okay?”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you have a club meeting?”

Your eyes widened as you realized Sungchan was standing in front of you in the hallway. Being your boyfriend and the class president, he always kept a close eye on what everyone was up to.

You’d told him you had a meeting after class, but laziness got the best of you, and you decided to skip it. With most people already gone, you hadn’t expected to run into him.

“Oh… I, uh…”

You tried to turn and run, but Sungchan quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hm… So, you’re skipping the meeting, huh?”

You nodded several times, giving him a pitiful look, knowing Sungchan hated when people skipped responsibilities. Still, you also knew you were his weakness. He stared at you for a few moments, clearly trying to scold you, but your expression made him look away, clearing his throat.

“Well… uh… I was going to invite you to my place, but only if you promise not to skip a meeting again, okay?”

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

During class, you asked to use the restroom, but your real plan was to get away and head to the gym to practice. You were too bored to stay in class and figured rehearsing was a better use of your time.

Although the teacher didn’t notice you’d been gone for over 20 minutes, Wonbin, your boyfriend, did. Knowing you too well, he immediately figured you’d just skipped.

Even though he hated leaving in the middle of class, Wonbin also asked to use the restroom and came straight to the gym, where he knew you’d be.

When you saw him at the door, you stopped the music.

“Aww, you noticed I wasn’t in class,” you teased as Wonbin approached.

“You know you can’t skip class to practice,” he said, crossing his arms and trying to look authoritative.

It was his duty to make sure everyone stayed in class, but you knew he had a soft spot for you. When he gave you that look, you couldn’t resist.

“Fine! Let’s go, I’ll go back to class…” you said, grabbing your things.

“Wait. Show me the choreography once, and then we’ll go back. Promise me you won’t skip again, okay? You know how much I hate missing class…”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

As the school year came to a close, teachers were holding one-on-one meetings to discuss grades and performance. You dreaded these meetings because they always told you the same thing: your grades weren’t great, and you needed to try harder next year.

Even though the meeting was mandatory, you made up an excuse about an after-school activity to get out of it. Your plan was working perfectly, until Seunghan, your boyfriend, caught you at the school exit, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Done with your meeting already?” he asked, glancing at his phone to check the time.

“Well… uh…”

“You’re trying to skip, aren’t you?” His silence after the question was enough to make you squirm. “You know how important these meetings are, y/n…”

“I know, I know. But… they always say the same thing, and I don’t want to hear again that I need to improve. I already know that,” you said, frustrated.

Seunghan listened intently, knowing your struggles with school all too well. Brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, he leaned closer.

“How about I go with you? If I’m there, maybe they’ll be easier on you. Plus, no one will question me since I’m the class president.”

Blushing at his suggestion, you reluctantly nodded. “Fine…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“What are you doing here? Class starts in two minutes.”

Sitting at the top of the stairs, you looked down to see Sohee staring up at you. He’d caught you red-handed.

“Uh…”

You were planning to hide there through your next class because you didn’t feel like going to music. You didn’t get the rhythms and felt like you contributed nothing, so why bother?

Seeing your expression, Sohee sighed and climbed the stairs.

“You weren’t thinking about skipping class, were you, y/n?”

“It’s just… I hate music class. I don’t add anything to it.”

“How can you say that? You’re with me, and I love watching you during practice,” he said with a playful grin.

His words made you smile, but you shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“You know I won’t leave until you come with me, right? I’m not letting you skip.”

Knowing he was serious, you gave in, standing up and taking his hand.

“Besides, I know you love hearing me sing…”

“Shut up, Sohee…”

⭑.ᐟ anton

You found out that morning that there was a math test later that day. Not only had you forgotten to study, but you also hated math. So, you decided to sneak away before the test and hide on the rooftop.

You’d been up there for about half an hour when the door opened, startling you. Turning around, you saw Anton.

“Skipping a test? Really?” he said, approaching you.

As the class president, and your boyfriend, Anton always kept tabs on everyone, especially you. No matter how many times you promised to stop skipping, he always managed to catch you.

Sitting beside you, he leaned against the wall and waited for an explanation.

“I forgot we had a test…” you mumbled, embarrassed. Anton sighed, shaking his head.

“I’ll ask the teacher to let you retake it tomorrow, but you have to promise to spend the evening studying with me, and no more skipping.”

Spending the evening with him? That sounded like the perfect plan. Even if studying wasn’t your favorite, you nodded eagerly and gave him a quick kiss before heading back to class together.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

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solxamber · 4 months ago

Note

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

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul #jade leech x reader #jade x reader #jade leech #jade #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil #jamil viper

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amyrahrose · 5 months ago

Text

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.”

#jjk x black!fem reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #fanfic #anime fanfic #anime x black!reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna x y/n

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honey-milk-depresso · 1 year ago

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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! ^^

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al-1-na · 20 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝟓

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

The first year in New York had been a whirlwind—full of challenges, love, and growth. Drew’s off-Broadway production had been a hit, earning him glowing reviews and even a few new opportunities. Your career had reached new heights, and for a while, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

But slowly, cracks began to form in the life you’d built together.

It started with small things. Drew would come home late from rehearsals, drained from the grind of live performances, and crash onto the couch without saying much. You noticed how the city you once loved—the energy, the chaos—seemed to weigh heavier on you with each passing day. Even weekends together felt rushed, as if you were constantly trying to catch your breath.

One night, as you lay in bed, Drew spoke into the quiet.

“Do you ever feel like… we’re just surviving here?”

You turned to look at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He stared at the ceiling, his hand resting on yours. “I love being with you, but this city—it’s exhausting. Every day feels like a battle. And I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

His words hit a nerve you hadn’t admitted to yourself. New York had been your dream for so long, but lately, it felt more like a weight than a joy. You’d brushed it off as temporary, as something you’d adjust to, but deep down, you knew Drew was right.

“I’ve been feeling that way, too,” you admitted softly.

Drew turned to you, his blue eyes searching yours. “Then maybe it’s time for a change.”

A few weeks later, the opportunity presented itself.

You’d applied for a position at a production company in Los Angeles on a whim, not expecting anything to come of it. But when the offer came—a dream role with better hours, better pay, and a fresh start—you knew it was a sign.

“I got the job,” you told Drew one evening, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and fear.

He looked up from his script, his eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. That’s amazing!”

“But it’s in L.A.,” you added, your voice quieter now. “I’d have to move.”

Drew set the script down and crossed the room, pulling you into his arms. “Then we’ll move.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been thinking about it, anyway. Most of my work is out there now, and honestly? I’m ready to leave New York behind if it means being with you. This city isn’t our forever.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you leaned into him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s start over—together.”

The move to Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air.

You and Drew found a small house on the west side, tucked away on a quiet street with a lemon tree in the backyard. It wasn’t much, but it was yours, and for the first time in years, you felt like you could finally exhale.

Drew thrived in L.A., landing a role in a new streaming series that allowed him to work steadily without the relentless pressure of stage performances. You loved your new job, and the flexible hours meant you could spend more time together, exploring the city and building a life that felt right.

Evenings were spent cooking dinner in your tiny kitchen, dancing barefoot to old records, and talking about everything and nothing. Weekends meant hikes in the hills, lazy beach days, and impromptu road trips up the coast.

One night, as you sat on the patio under the soft glow of string lights, Drew handed you a glass of wine and sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

You smiled, leaning your head against his chest. “All the time. Sometimes it feels like we’ve lived a dozen lives just to get here.”

Drew tilted your chin up, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m glad we did. Every mistake, every detour—it all led me back to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m glad, too. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to seal the promise you’d made to each other.

Months turned into a year, and your life in L.A. grew fuller with each passing day. The house felt more like home, filled with laughter, love, and the occasional burnt dinner. You and Drew had found your forever—not in a city, but in each other.

One evening, as the sun set over the Pacific, you stood on the beach together, the waves lapping at your feet. Drew slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and familiar.

“I know we’ve talked about not rushing things,” he said, his voice steady. “But I can’t wait anymore.”

You turned to him, your heart pounding as he dropped to one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend, my partner, and the love of my life. I want to keep building this crazy, beautiful life with you—forever. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded, your voice breaking. “Yes. A million times, yes.”

Drew slipped the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into his arms as the crowd around you cheered.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, you knew this was it.

❦❦❦❦❦❦❦❦

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @maybanksgirl69 @raeven-marie43 @niktwazny303

#drew starkey #fanfic #drew x reader #rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey content #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #imagine #obx x reader #rafe obx #obx cast

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animeyanderetalker · 4 months ago

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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.

#a talks #yandere thoughts #yandere blue lock #yandere bllk #yandere x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader

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thirtysomethingloser92 · 4 months ago

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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.

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 11 months ago

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(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 ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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