#and what's that TUNE he's always whistling? what's he /building/ in there?

[archliches]

i lied you shouldn't have trusted me with the aux. we're listening to tom waits "what's he building?" all the way through and then i'm turning off the radio and we're finishing this 4 hour drive in total pristine silence.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙩3 ♡︎

characters: sub!dragons x dom!gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, dragons have vent that hide their two cocks anatomy, eating out, fingering, handjob, squirting, light mind break, exhibitionism, biting, blood/injury mention

notes: part 1, part 2 is here respectively. genuinely didn’t think this idea would be liked so much it would have two more parts lmao. wasn’t really thinking of writing part 3 since i was all outta thoughts but here we are. dividers from benkeibear

it had been a while since the relationship between you and your beloved dragon had become official. of course, there were bumps along the way and you two still wished to keep your relationship a secret. who knows whatever the hell the court of elders would say or how people would react to you once they find out that it was you who was chosen by the dragon himself specifically to be his mate and not some higher ranking diplomat or a royalty. mainly, it was to keep you safe.

the dragon could give less than two fucks about his title or fame. title be damned, he could care less of society’s judging eyes and open ears on him. he could care less about how the courtiers would argue against his decision. all he cared about was you and he wanted to keep you safe and away from harm. the courtiers included. most specifically the courtiers; he dealt with their shit for long enough on a daily basis, he didn’t wanted them to find out about his most favored treasure and meddle with his personal life.

but mostly, it gets annoying when he wanted to keep his beloved by his side yet his beloved is away on a business trip. a very long one. it has been what? over a month and a week and the poor dragon was desperate to have you by his side again. every moment he catches himself recalling of past moments with you, he finds his tail swishing side to side, a low pleased purr in his throat. or he would recall of moments of comedy; such as when you tripped and fell down the stairs in front of him at your first meeting, how you stuff your face full of your favorite treats like a chipmunk, or when you accidentally drank a cup of hot tea, mistaking it for a cold one and burning your tongue. the dragon finds himself chuckling at that, snorting, turning to his side as he calls out your name to recall said events out loud. only for his wagging tail to droop and a sad whine escape him when he remembered, right; you were away on a business trip and hasn’t returned yet.

his mood was noticed of course. it’s easy to be noticed when all eyes have always been on you since the very beginning of your life. the courtiers asked him of what has been weighing on his mind lately, the soldiers that guard his grand office bowing in respect as their eyes look over him with concern, how the people have already started a rumor amongst themselves.

“the great dragon found a mate they said”, “the great dragon perhaps lost a loved one recently”, “the great dragon’s mood downing reason is his nature. he is a dragon after all, he would surely miss his kin” great dragon this, great dragon that — all he wanted was you. finding himself stuck in the middle, he could barely find the time to even focus on his work. words on the paper in front of him meddled and meshed together into a white and black mess. he could read the words but it wouldn’t register in his brain. instead, what occupied his mind and heart was you with your bright smile that was like the warmth of a sunlight on his skin after a millennia of snowstorm. letting out a sigh for the nth time this past hour, he turns to look at the calendar hung on the wall of his office. a bright red marker circling the 23rd of the next month, making his tail droop as a defeated whine escapes his lips. how could he ever wait patiently for your return?

walking through the long corridors of the grand building where the dragon stays seated for work, you whistle a few tunes as you pass by some of the workers or nod your head in greeting when a guard walks by. the workers of this place knows you by now; or at least have memorized your features. you were a common visitor to the dragon, either called by him or coming by your own accord to tend to some matters. whether it be your lazy work ethnics or the large contracts you’ve struck — no one really knows. no one is yet to suspect that you two are in a relationship. not yet.

knocking on the grand oak doors with dragon symbols carved onto the outside, you push the door open as you saunter inside. the moment the door closes behind you with a soft click! you were nearly tackled over onto the floor as a scaled limb tightly wraps around your thigh. wet kisses trail from your neck down to your collarbone, the tail on your thigh squeezing harshly enough to the point it nearly cuts off your blood flow. laughing, you return the death squeeze, running a hand through his hair as you kiss the base of his horn that had materialized.

“i’ve missed you too, my love” you manage to breathe out, voice nearly a gasp with the way he was about to topple you over with his bigger frame. you could see the shine of his scales on his jaw and chin, the hardened skin having grown vastly in number due to the sudden shift in his mood. and if the room were any but darker, you were sure that his eyes and horns were pulsing a soft glow. just like the thrumming of his heartbeat you could feel over the material of his clothes.

before you could tell him to get off and allow you to breathe, his lips met yours in a manner that was as if he was trying to smash his skull with yours, merging the bones together. he must have been lonely, hands cupping your cheeks tenderly while he desperately kissed your lips over and over as if trying to merge your bodies together. his usually cold veneer be damned, he had missed your scent, your lips, the warmth of your body — you.

the great dragon had missed his beloved mate.

forked tongue licking at your lips, he impatiently pushes the wet muscle inside your mouth. licking at the cavern, messily slurping on your tongue and dismissing your choked noises, your dragon pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, preening his scales with a low whimper. pulling his tongue out, seeing the saliva connecting you together, he lets out a drawn out whine, grinding his crotch against your own.

“missed you… missed your scent and everything… so bad” he mumbles, a low rumble in his chest as he drags you towards his desk by the tail that was hooked around your thigh. you let out a grunt, almost loosing balance but following along. sharpened claws fumble with his belt and pants, eager yet impatient as he leaves a few tears and holes into the material. disregarding his clothes half heartedly, he lays down on the desk, claws grasping at the edge of the wood as he props his legs up, showing you the weeping slit of his vent. he was already so wet and aroused, acting like he was in heat as his tail tugs you closer to himself.

“look at you, my love. we just shared a hug and a kiss and you’re already dripping wet” you tease him, fingers spreading his vent open as usual. like an excited puppy seeking for validation, his two cocks slip out, reaching for your hand.

“mhm. all wet and eager for you, mate♡︎” he nods enthusiastically, claws leaving the desk to spread his cent open further for you to stare at. just seeing him like this, in a compromising manner with slitted pupils blown wide; it was enough to make your mouth salivate. the fuzzy end of his tail tap against your calf, already telling you to hurry up and bury your face into his vent, take his cock into your mouth, any cock, anything — he doesn’t mind it. the poor pent up dragon just wanted your touch, craving for the high that you deliver so expertly, knowing his body better than he does.

“my my, thank you for the meal” you coo, patting the inside of his thigh gently. hooking the beck of your leg into his chair behind you, you pull it close to yourself before plopping down. the soft cushions felt like clouds to your tired body that was cramped into the workers’ ship, inviting you to sit on it and eat out its owner to your heart’s content.

placing tentative kisses to the small bundle like clit on top of his vent, you flatten your tongue, licking a stripe up the soft scales of his vent and the base of his cocks. just a token of affection and he was already squirming in his place, bucking his hips into your mouth. but he needs yo learn patience when it came to you, something you showed with small little licks to the side of his vent, collecting his juices into your tongue and tasting them. he lets out a punched out whine at that, spreading himself open more to try and entice you. he smelled like a freshly brewed maple syrup, tasted like the nectar of the forbidden fruits on your tongue, sounded like your favorite song in loop.

“hurry it uppp—! aaah♡︎ j-just like that... deep♡︎ deeper♡︎ wan’ your tongue deeper inside my vent♡︎!!” a surprised squeal comes from him, legs jerking in place as if wanting to wrap around your head. reaching a hand out, you push two fingers inside his mouth, muffling his noises and making him choke on the digits. the poor thing tries to make a noise of protest, only succeeding in a meager choked moan.

pushing apart his vent open further with your fingers, you push your tongue inside as far as it could reach. not deep inside to reach that soft spot inside his vent, but certainly deep enough to make him gasp around your fingers. you can feel his forked tongue come up, the long limb slithering around your fingers and between them to try and wet them. his attempts sometimes ended up futile, making the dragon choke on the accumulated saliva on his tongue and your fingers. sometimes, he would get a little too excited, his thighs warming your cheeks and ear until you slap them open again.

he tasted delicious, like a fruit mix syrup that was left in the perfect condition for you to feast on. a nectar of both sin and sweetness, coupled with his cute noises that ask you for more like the greedy dragon he was. dragons were naturally possessive, it didn’t surprise you that your sweetheart pulled you in for a quick fuck inside his own office in broad daylight. flattening your tongue, you ease the muscle in and out smoothly on the soft scaled base of his cock inside his hole. slimy liquid drip down your chin, forcing you to slurp some while the ones you couldn’t taste dirty your jaws and the floor.

“ummgh! s-sho guwd… deeper♡︎ wan’ iwt deeepeeerrr♥︎♥︎” he chokes out around your fingers, rocking his hips back and forth to make your tongue thrust inside his vent more forcefully. your poor pent up dragon, so needy to the point he was fucking his dripping folds into your mouth. taking one of his hands that tried to hold his vent open for you, you guide one of his fingers to rest over the small bundle on top of his slit, making him rub the muscle slowly. it acted like a clit, a tiny muscle that came out when he was aroused, sensitive to the touch.

after a few messy flicks to the clit like muscle, without even having you properly touch his angry red cocks, he was spurting cum into his shirt. it will be a mess to wash them out later but right now, all you focused on was the cute flush of his face and the way his pupils dilated into hearts when his eyes met yours. making a show of his debauchery, the dragon pushes your fingers out just enough to make you watch how he drooled around them, long tongue slithering between the two digits. the hand that was over the small clit like muscles stroked his bigger cock a few times, letting the last few drops of his cum spurt into his chest. just like how you guided his hand earlier, he did the same to yours. letting your wet fingers scoop up the mess on his skin and shirt before wiping them clean with his tongue, suckling on the tips of your fingers as if he was suckling on your cock. were your eyes deceiving you or were the corners of his lips turned up into a smug grin?

taking your fingers out of his mouth, making the dragon whine at the loss, you push your saliva coated fingers into his hole. all the earlier smugness of his face disappears in an instant, throwing his head back with a loud wail as his vent clenches around your tongue. claws that were scratching at the wood of his desk weakly paws at your head, fingers fisting at your scalp as he couldn’t decide between fucking into your tongue deep into his vent or the fingers now scissoring his hole open.

“angh—! ah ah guhhn♡︎♡︎ [n-name]! mmng eengh—♥︎ aah... so gooddd♡︎ m-missed you, missed this—♥︎!” the dragon weakly bucks his hips, wiggling in place unable to decide what to do. all he could do was paw at your head or at his shaking legs that were propped up on the desk, mind melting away into a soft mush. there were nothing in his mind, filled with cotton as he could only hyperfixate on the feeling of your fingers and tongue fucking him open like he was a cheap whore in a brothel and not the great dragon inside his own office.

“ummgh!! umgck— kuhng♥︎♥︎!” a sharp wail of his gets muffled as your place your free hand over his mouth, forcing him to stay quiet. in his own greed for pleasure that your provided, he had forgotten where you two were. not like he could care less. he was disgustingly possessive and his tail refused to budge from its place that was snugly wrapped around your middle. the fluffy end consistently patting against your thigh whenever your fingers pushed deeper, curling up to hit his prostate.

it was dizzying; the pleasure, your tongue squeezing into his vent, the way you roughly fucked into his prostate with your fingers as you force him to muffle his noises. if only he could moan and shriek to his heart’s content and not force himself to shut up.

slipping your fingers out of his hole with a lewd shlick! your hand pumps his smaller cock at an agonizingly fast pace. his smaller cock was more sensitive, another new discovery you used to your heart’s content as his legs thrash around, the dragon’s tail squeezing around your middle painfully. bot that you cared, you were just trying to get him to cum again quicker. if you were correct in your assessment, in half an hour, he had a meeting.

unable to help himself, the dragon bites down on your hand, making you grimace as the sharp fangs in his maw pierce through your skin. he could taste your blood as it trickles into his mouth, making him whine in concern for hurting you before his legs jerk violently, wrapping around your head tightly. back arching on the desk so beautifully, screaming into your hand, his smaller cock spurts out more cum than the one before, his slick juices squirting onto the warmth of your tongue from his vent. slurping up as much as you could, you finally ease your tongue out as his cocks go soft in your hand. the small clit like muscles on top of his vent soften back inside as you push his legs open slowly. taking your hand away from his mouth, you couldn’t help the smug grin that crawls onto your face as you see your cute dragon.

pupils blown wide, covering the color of his irises, a small smear of blood on his lips with his cocks wearily slipping back inside his vent. once safely tucked back inside, the glistening folds of his scaled vent flutters, clenching around the phantom feeling of your tongue showed up inside it. pulling over a pack of wet wipes from one of his desk drawers, you place kisses to the pulsing scales on his chin as you wipe him clean to the best of your ability. satisfied with how he finally had you by his side, his tail weakly pats your leg, a pleased rumble of a purr in his throat as his claws hook into your shirt to yank you down onto the desk on top of him. as quickly as you fell, his arms were around you, keeping you caged in his grasp. huffing out an amused laugh, you decide to indulge in his wishes for cuddles.

only until the doors will be knocked of course.

[fairestwriting]

Hi omg I just found your blog ahfbxbd

Could you do smthn (a little drabble or hcs🤷‍♀️) of Leona when his (pref. Fem) s/o is on their period? Since he respects women so much and likely chugs Respect Women Juice (was that cringy?😭 mb)

Could do savanaclaw in general if you wanted but thats up to you and stuff<3 whatever works best for you

Sorry my brains working overtime lmao

Anywho please take care of yourself and drink water and eat something!!<3<3

wah tysm for the nice words! i’m happy you’ve been enjoying my blog!! <3 i haven’t done scenarios/drabbles in a long time so i thought well why not…

also tbh. even if it’s an old meme it’s never cringy for me. every man shoul chug respect women juice like he does.

ೀ pairing: leona kingscholar x f!reader

ೀ word count: 1,396

“…So yeah, it should be better by tomorrow, I think.” You say, letting out a sigh as you press the pillow to your stomach, but not too hard— Leona’s eyes just remain on you for the whole thing, like he’s committing every detail to memory. “It’s always worse on specific days.”

“Looks like it.” Finally showing any sort of reaction, Leona frowns slightly. “And you’re planning on just going to class anyway?”

“Well, I can’t miss an entire week every month, can I?” You huff out a quiet laugh, but he doesn’t seem to really share the sentiment. An alarmed feeling flashes on his eyes, slightly widening, and your laughter increases by the tiniest bit. “Oh my god, Leona, I’m fine. You’re looking at me like I told you I got stabbed.”

“You were *talking* like you got stabbed a few minutes ago.” He points out, glancing behind him towards the kitchen door. There’s the whistle of the kettle, finally— “I’ll get that.” He mutters before you can finish using up the small bits of strength you’d been conserving to get up.

“Do you even know how to fill a hot water bottle?” Naturally, you ask him. Leona’s ears go flat against the top of his head as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Herbivore. I wasn’t raised in a barn.” He snarks at you. You raise your eyebrow, unconvinced, and he huffs. “You know I have cousins, right?”

“And you were the one filling those up for them?” You reply with another question, and he clicks his tongue, just making his way to the kitchen without a word.

His footsteps feel almost noisy, contrasting with the silence that the entire dorm building is submerged into. Grim was somewhere in there, in his bedroom, but you’d already told him to keep it down when you had a headache earlier.

He tried to be sassy at first, but quickly changed his tune— There are maybe certain traits of guys that transcend species, you think.

”Ow, fuck—“ You hear Leona’s hushed swear from the kitchen, and it gets a small laugh from you.

“Careful!” You call after him, the hint of the smile staying on your face. He doesn’t respond to it, but you can kind of imagine the look on his face.

…It’s a few more moments of aimlessly staring off into space until he’s coming back. The hot water bottle makes its characteristic sloshing noises with every step of his.

Right now, that basically sounds like the first notes of Heaven’s choir as the gates open for you. He holds the bottle by its neck with one hand, like he’s afraid of the heat radiating from it.

“You can just hand it over.” You tell him, and just now you notice he’s setting down a glass of water on the coffee table in the meantime.

“Aren’t you supposed to cover that up with something?” He asks, and you blink, confused for a second. “The bottle, Herbivore. This thing’s hot.”

“Oh, it can go on top of the blanket.”

“You sure that’s enough?”

“Yup. Just hand it over.”

He hesitates a little, but the bottle is with you soon enough. You exhale, sighing in relief as you feel the warmth against your body, slowly seeping through the rubber and getting its hands into the tightly wound painful spots on your abdomen.

Leona watches closely. You can see his eyes moving in small steps, following what little movement you make. He sits on the couch, right where your feet would be if you hadn’t curled up on yourself like that.

“Do you believe I know how to make those things yet?” A bit to your surprise, he’s the one to break the silence, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lip. You hum thoughtfully, hand resting on top of the hot water bottle like you’re grading it.

“Hm. Yeah, it’s not bad.” You shrug, shifting to get more comfortable. A surge of pain spikes through from the movement, making you wince, but the reward that comes later is enough. “Did you actually make them for your cousins?”

You ask the question absentmindedly as you pick up your phone, not planning to do anything in particular. He pauses. The silence tells you enough.

“…That’s what I thought.” You say with a smirk, mostly to yourself, and he makes an annoyed grunt.

“Oh, give me some credit. You said I did fine.” He complains, and your smile widens a little. “Is there anything else you need, or do I just get to be your footrest now?”

“Footrest is okay.” You snicker, looking up from the screen to see a spark of amusement on his face. Finally, you think, he was really looking so serious before. It’s almost funny to compare. “You’re gonna stay? I thought you had practice later.”

“I have practice whenever I feel like having practice.” Of course you do, you think as he shrugs. “We don’t have anything coming up anyway. I got more important things to do now.”

“Like being a footrest for your girlfriend.” You poke fun at him a little. The reaction you get is smaller than you expect.

“Yes, Herbivore. I’m booked for the whole afternoon.” He replies without missing a beat. You’re still kind of curled up, even though you’re laying more on your back now, but just to make the point, you let your legs shift a little, poking at his thigh. “I’m guessing those pain meds kicked in.”

“Oh, yeah. Thankfully.” You say, looking back at the screen, and Leona hums.

“…Do they actually take all of the pain away?”

“Not always, but it’s working pretty well now.”

At that, he frowns again. “And you’re saying you’ll just take those and go to class tomorrow.”

“…Yeah?”

Silence. Leona just kind of stares. You can kind of see the gears turning behind his eyes. It’s established this was his first time filling a hot water bottle, yeah, but you kind of wonder if it’s his first time helping someone with… anything period-related at all.

“Skipping is an option, you know.”

“Ugh, don’t tempt me. My attendance’s gonna go to hell.”

“You know I can just get that sorted out for you, right…” He replies in kind of a murmur.

…You said it like a joke, but he didn’t return that part of the gesture at all.

“What?” He asks, and you notice it’s been a few seconds since you started actually considering the pros and cons of skipping tomorrow’s classes.

It’s a little funny, how flustered he suddenly looks. And he only gives you that look *right now,* when you’re giving him that oh, I’m surprised you can be that nice look.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He mumbles, averting his eyes. “Just take the day off. No way you’re getting anything done if you feel like you’re getting ‘punched in the stomach’ for the whole day.”

…You’d used those exact words to describe your situation a few minutes ago, it reminds you. And he definitely wasn’t wrong, but…

“What about my notes, though…?” You protest, but your soul can’t be quite in it. It’s right at this moment that you feel your guts twist again, even through the muffling of the water bottle and the pills…

“I’ll pay Ashengrotto off to get you copies or something. Are you convinced enough now?” He responds without missing a beat. Your eyes widen a little at how eager it sounds. “C’mon, Herbivore. I know you’re stubborn, but it can’t be that bad of a deal.”

“Well, what if I’m also in pain the day after tomorrow? Would you pay for that too?” …You’re kind of just pushing back for the sake of it. It’s just how you talk to each other. You get a feeling Leona can sense that, especially when he gives you a smile

“I’ll make it a damn monthly subscription service if it means you’ll stay put when you’re in pain.” Again, he doesn’t miss a single beat.

You’re tempted to push back, but well…

It definitely sounded like a good idea, right now— And when you do agree to it, Leona gives you this grateful smile, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it on his face before.

And you smile back, getting the feeling this week definitely wouldn’t be as miserable as you expected it to,

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[biteyoubiteme]

I've got you

taehyun x fem!reader warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, clit play, strength kink, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry wc: 2.5k an: this was requested by the lovely @luvsicktyun ily you always know what I need to write next >< I hope you like it :)) not proofread forgive me pls pls pls [m.list]

Your hand was steady on the wall, cold and firm as you shook your head, “No, I can't let go,” taehyun had heard the persistent denial to never release the barrier the second you had held on. Legs trembling and arms wide as soon as you stepped on the ice. You hadn't even fallen but the stumble after hitting one little dip had been enough to scare you into place now. 

“I've got you,” his voice was a smooth balm of reassurance over your twisted fear and yet you held your ground. “This was a horrible idea, you proved your point, it is more than just skating around and chasing a puck, its precision,” it had been the word taehyun had brought up in defense of your mindless teasing. 

And it wasn't as if you didn't appreciate the sport. You had spent countless hours sitting right up in the bleachers a few steps away. Watching Tae as he went around the rink for practice. The loud ring of the coach's whistle making it past your headphones time and time again pulling your gaze up from your book like a direct call to catch sight of your boyfriend.  You knew the sport was hard, knew it took skill, and work outside and on the ice but it hadn’t hit you until that very second that even the basics would feel this difficult. 

“You didn't even fall,” he was giggling at you, dimple on his cheek a single point for you to focus your pout on. 

“Don't laugh,” but it was hard not to feel your own chuckle bubbling up to follow his. 

“I'm not,” his lips sealing as he tried and failed to rid himself of his smile. “You just hate that you're not instantly good at something, come on just one more try, I won't even let go,” he had kept one hand close to you the entire time the two of you had been out on the empty rink. Even your almost fall had been guarded by the faint heat coming from Taehyun'spalm waiting at your waist. Now with him crowding your back, guiding you with his gentle hold on your hands there was little excuse as to why you shouldn't let him lead you. 

“Okay…” there was still the faint fragility hidden in your voice as you let go of the wall, lined with the scratched plexiglass meant to protect those sitting around the bleachers from a flying puck. You had never wanted to venture out this far onto the ice, waiting right out of the gate once practice was over was fine enough. But Taehyun had talked about taking you out to learn to skate even before the two of you started to date officially. Even that first night when the two of you had met, your confession of never having even been in a building holding a rink still fresh between the two of you when he let the words fall, I could teach you to skate. He had been just as captivating then, head slightly tilted as if tuning out the rest of the room, his sole focus on you as he blinked, eyes falling to your mouth only long enough for you to notice the butterflies blooming in your belly. 

You had made a promise that night in agreement, flippantly and now regrettably as you felt your left foot slip out from under you. But Taehyun did not let you fall, his hold unmoving as he righted your movements before you could reach for the wall for comfort again. The two of you shouldn't have even been on the ice, the extra skates left on the counter, cleaned, and pulling the two of you to the ice without a second thought. But your skirt did not provide any cover if you fell, the ice unforgiving enough to leave half the team with bruises from their ankles to their chin, although taehyun reminds you that they get the injuries from playing not skating around the rink a few times.

“See one foot after the other, just glide,” taehyun keeps his stance wide enough so that he can demonstrate what foot should go next, the perfect mirror as he pushes off helping you finally make it even just a few feet from where you had entered on the ice. “Look at that, you're a natural, sweetheart,” but you're still holding onto his hands in a way that tells him he won't be able to pry you free. 

It had taken a bit of convincing to even have you slip the skates on, him getting down to one knee, patting his thigh as the final say-so. You had obliged, letting him tie the skates on tight enough to keep your ankles secured and help you wattle out to the ice. And once you got the hang of the easy motions without feeling as if you were going to fall, Taehyun switched to skating backward in front of you. His hands in yours, warm thumbs brushing over your knuckles as a silent reminder that he wouldn't let you fall if he could help it. 

But you were doing better, confidence built after the single lap you had made around half in his arms and half just like this but taehyun was loosening his grip, “you've got it, I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his encouragement giving you enough strength to finally let go. For a second it feels like you will fall, stomach turning for as long as it takes you to stabilize yourself, arms wide on either side of you as you look up at taehyun and his proud grin. 

“I did it!” your voice is dipped in disbelief, even if you're hardly moving, standing there frozen in the middle of the rink. And it's worth the slight fear when Taehyun is looking at you like that, caught there with his smile, his happiness funneling into you. It had taken a lot to get you to find your footing, gliding in the same strokes that he had shown you. 

You're skating was not perfect, Taehyun watched the way you didn't push off until you were done letting the ice drift you to a stop like a little baby deer on a lake iced over for the winter. Your face heated from the blood rushing to warm your features, your fingers numb and trying to find heat in Taehyun's grasp when the two of you finally started to make it back off the ice.

It started innocently, your foot resting right on his thigh as he helped to undo the tight laces he had done up, his hand staying right on your calf finger lightly tracing patterns on your skin like he had all day to spend right there in the locker room. You were leaning back on your hands looking down at him when he tilted his chin, “You know I always hated how we had to drive all the way home after a game before I could finally fuck you,” 

There was a stutter in your breathing, your knees only slightly pulling in together like the anticipation of his next move made you react without a second thought. The sight of the movement was right on the edge of his vision, his grin loose enough to tell you his intentions with the comment. He let his fingers slip up your leg, finding the warm skin on your thigh even more enticing when it's just under your skirt. “I told you we can always pull over,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper. 

“Hum,” he shrugged as if he was taking in the suggestion for review, fingers going higher and higher, right until you could just feel the ghost of his touch warm against your panties, “but I know myself, I need space to make sure I have room to get my girl off just right,” it's the last thing he says before you're gasping, the pad of his thumb pressed right over your clothed clit, rubbing soft circles just to watch the way your brows scrunch in a soft pout, knees pulling in to trap his hand right in place.

“Tae-” You didn't want him to stop, but your eyes instantly flicked to the door behind him, the two of you shouldn't have even been here this late, any of the roaming staff could walk in to find you falling apart right here with only his fingers. 

“Worried? We only have the one door in and if we block it the only thing we would have to be mindful of is the noise,” he says it right on the edge of your whine, the sound rising in your throat the second he picked up a faster pace on your clit, fingers slipping along the wetness building up. “But you'll be quiet, won't you sweetheart?” 

You nodded, chin dipping enough so that he knew you would comply with anything that he said especially when he wastouching you like this. It was enough so that he pulled the two of you up, hands all over you, desperately pulling you closer for a kiss. Fervent as if it was the first time, stumbling as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Taehyun pressed you against the door, hips locking you in place as he pressed sloppy kisses down your neck. “You're already so hard for me,” voice pierced through with a bit of teasing, his hand running down the curve of your ass to hook your thigh in his grasp, hiking your leg up to open you wide enough to grind his hard bulge right against your soaked panties. 

The vibration of his humming response was pressed right to your pulse point, “I can't help it,”  the words less of a confession and more of a statement, because he had made it clear time and time again how easy it was to pull a reaction from him when it came to you. Hard after nothing but a single thought and there on his knees he had the smallest glimpse of the white fabric outlining your cunt, there was no going back now, not when you were grinding back chasing the friction of him. 

It was easy for him to slip his free hand down between the two of you, pushing your panties aside and soaking in the way your body trembled at the brush of his warm fingers back on your clit. All talk of being quiet fell from your mind the second he started to drag his fingers through your slick folds, your soft moan echoing in the empty locker room. “Tell me you need me just as bad,” his kisses leading from your jaw right back to your mouth, your response caught right on the edge of his mouth, “please… I need you,” 

You whimpered when he pulled his hand away from the slow circles he had been tracing against your clit, his hand fumbling with the button of his jeans, zipping the zipper down to tug himself free from the fabric. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breathing shallow as you watch him pump slow strokes along his cock, flush and already leaking pre-cum. The sight alone made you clench around nothing, aching to have him as close as you could possibly get him. His fingers on your thigh dug into your skin as he muttered, “Jump,” 

It was a simple enough command, his hold unwavering just as it had been on the ice, his hands cupping your ass as you leaned your back against the door behind you now effectively pinned in place by taehyun. He had always been strong, bands of muscle lining his arms, no strain of effort written across his brow, not when he was focused on lifting you just right so that he could run the tip of his cock between your slick folds, relishing in your soft mewls as he just barely breached your entrance. 

The room is a chorus of both of your moans as he lowers you on his cock, your body sinking all the way down, the back of your knees fitting perfectly against the pit of his elbows, fingers digging into your ass in a near bruising hold. The angle pushing him in deep enough to make your lashes flutter, arms tightening, nails scratching along his scalp as you tug his hair. He leaned in close, capturing your mouth only to find himself groaning against your lips as he found the perfect steady pace to rock his hips to. 

He wouldn't care if anyone did hear the two of you, not when he was this lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing him enough to make his mind lose itself to the feeling, hips having a mind of their own as he picks up his pace. “You feel so fucking perfect,” the words swallowed in the mix of your kisses, his mouth hot as he leans to press his face into the crook of your neck, the sounds of your bodies meeting coating the air. 

You could feel the build up of your orgasm in your stomach, every stroke of his hips snapping against yours tightening the ball of your sanity until it was ready to burst. “I'm close Tae- I'm so-” you were gasping, his cock twitching as his thrust turned sloppy at your words. He was always so in tune with your body, knowing you were close, knowing it was him thatwas bringing you closer to the edge was enough to carry him right to that cliff with you. 

“I've got you, sweetheart,” his open-mouthed kisses leading right up to your ear, “I need to feel you finish on my cock, please,” it was the ribbon of desperation tied around the final word that pushed you over the edge, back arching as you let your head roll, your moans leaving you as if he knew the exact way to pull them free. Your fluttering cunt triggered his orgasm, his hips jerking, husky moans now drawn out and rumbling in his chest as he spills ropes of his cum into you without care. Every slow drag of his cock only made you tremble from the sensitivity as he let the two of you ride out your high. 

You knew the second he tried to put you down your legs would feel wobbly, your arms tightening around him as if mentally preparing yourself for the struggle. “Careful I might topple over if you put me down,” 

His chuckle was followed by a peppering of kisses along your cheek, his softening cock pulling out of you before he helped you put one leg to the ground, moving your panties back into place so that the mess he had made of you wouldn'tspill. “I could just carry you all the way to the car,” he let you lean on him, your knees just as weak as you knew they would be, thighs shaking as he softly kissed the edge of your smile, “lay you down in the backseat and see how much more room there is to ruin you back there than in the front,” 

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[amberlynnmurdock]

Neighbor

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're Matt Murdock's neighbor, and one night he hears you pray.

Words: Under 1k

A/N: I just be posting anything now lol wrote this in my notes app hope you like it!!!

The building was quiet most of the time, but unfortunately for Matt Murdock, that wasn't the case, ever. Most people couldn't hear apartments three doors down and the conversations that went on in them. But Matt could. And he could never avoid them.

He distracted himself from the outside noise with menial chores–cleaning whatever dishes were left in the sink, reorganizing glasses in the cabinet, and practicing his fighting. But when dusting and cleaning wasn't enough, when even the music he played couldn't drown out the noise, he tended to listen to a particular apartment: hers.

She lived alone. Right across the hall, diagonal from his own door. Of all the apartments he was forced to listen to day in and day out, hers was the most peaceful. The quietest. She didn't have loud conversations with anyone, she didn't have a dog who would bark in the middle of the night. Instead, she had a teapot on the stove that would whistle when ready; she spent most nights quietly flipping through pages of a book. She got up to that annoying phone alarm and trotted to the bathroom to get ready for work. Matt's not sure what she does, but sometimes he hears her come home late when he's about to get ready to patrol the streets as Daredevil.

Matt realized going over this in his head was a little more than creepy and trod the thin line of being a stalker, but his heightened senses and what they picked up on were unavoidable. The times he couldn't focus on anything else or tune out the other noises in the apartment he focused on hers because it was the most calming to his senses.

He's only run into her a handful of times on the rare occasion they both leave for work in the morning. One time, they both exited their apartments at the same time. She quietly waved good morning until she realized she waved at a blind man and then uttered a more audible "good morning." Most people would ignore the realization and awkwardly go about their day, but not her. She always made sure to say good morning from then on. Matt liked that–no, liked you.

Matt found himself eager to get home after work more often than not, in hopes of coming home at the same time as her. Anything to get a small interaction would be enough for him. Even if it was as small as her holding the door for him or wishing him a good night. He looked forward to these small interactions so much that if they didn't happen, Matt would have a much less than good day.

One night, though, when he was just about to let himself fall asleep after a rather rough night patrolling Hell's Kitchen, he heard her. He heard her in a way he hadn't before. From the hiccups, to the shaky breaths, and the lingering taste of salt in the air, he knew she was crying.

Matt shot up in bed as he began to listen more intently–what happened?

"Please, God," he heard her whispered prayer, "Please make sure I make it home safe and unharmed from work. Please. There's so much violence in this city and I'm scared to walk alone at night."

Matt took a shaky breath, gripping his silk sheets in his hands. She was scared, he confirmed. Well, rest assured, he thought. Tomorrow night, he would make sure she arrived home safely from work himself.

TO BE CONTINUED??? IDK.

[saturnville]

ember & hush | kelvin harrison, jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: when Nia experiences an inconvenience at her apartment, Kelvin offers to let her stay with him for the night, which leads to tension and lines being crossed. warnings: none wc: 4823 an: the girlies are giving khjr love, and I am all the way here for it. I am tagging folks from my terry richmond taglist, so message me if you want to be removed. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl @mymindisneverhere

Most people hated old apartments. The beauty of aches, creaks, and groans of old floorboards and rusted windows was foregone when gray laminate floors, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances took over Architecture Digest. 

But she loved her apartment. Nestled in the rear of a Victorian-style building turned small investment property. It wasn’t much, but its beauty was indescribable. From the stained windows with stories of Mary and Jesus to Romeo and Julie and even Mona Lisa were her greeters each time she crossed the threshold. 

Her heels were pitter-pattered against the cracked tile floor as she trekked toward the elevator. Her forearms grew weary from the lines of bags on her arms. It was her monthly restock day, and as usual, she went a bit overboard and was paying the consequences by nearly colliding with the wall beside her. 

“Oof,” she grunted, wobbling a bit. She stuck her hand out to press the elevator button. She whistled a soft tune as she waited for the doors to open. A soft ding indicated she was next up for a luxurious ride. The first layer of doors peeled open, revealing her neighbor, Kelvin, on the other side. 

Her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand, which was labeled with the logo of the local Chinese restaurant on the corner. She chuckled and stepped into the elevator. “Chinese for the third time this week? It’s only Thursday.” 

Kelvin laughed mockingly. “Cooking isn’t in the cards this week.” He tilted the bag as if offering a confession. “I’m in survival mode.” She nodded in understanding. Seeing him rush out the door from her peephole early in the morning with a backpack slung over his shoulder to see him trudge indoors later in the evening proved his words correct. His job wasn’t the most graceful, but he adored it. She could tell from how his eyes lit up when she asked about his day while they passed each other in the apartment foyer. 

“I see,” she concurred. 

A moment of silence settled before Kelvin spoke up. He nodded toward her bags. “You sure you didn’t make a Chinese restaurant run?” 

Nia’s eyes dropped toward her bags as if unaware of what she had swiped her debit card on. She smiled softly as she thought of all she had gotten. Investing in herself and her relaxation was non-negotiable; monthly restocks were planned and budgeted monthly. She deserved to treat herself with care. 

“All the self-care goodies. Lotions, body washes, snacks. Everything to keep me happy this weekend.” The smile on her face didn’t fade, and it was contagious. It was so infectious that Kelvin didn’t realize a small smile bore on his lips. However, he saw how the bags slowly weighed her down.

The elevator dinged again. 

“Here.” Kelvin held his hands out. Nia sighed thankfully and slid some of her bags into his awaiting hands, choosing to ignore the jolt that shot down her spine when their fingertips touched. Ever the gentleman. She didn’t surround herself with men often, but Kelvin was the one man who made her feel comfortable and cared for. From when he opened the door for her, helped carry her groceries, and let her borrow his utensils when she realized she was lacking. He stood outside and jumped her car for 30 minutes at 12 degrees last winter. He always had her back.

Her hand touched his bicep, which she tried not to squeeze, and said, “Thank you.” 

The walk to her apartment was short. Nia continued to engage with his new questions about her day as she dug in her messy tote for her keys. “Uh, I had a client I tried not to cuss out, but what’s new.” She went to put the key in the door, but much to her surprise, it opened on its own. Her eyebrow raised, and her heart pounded. She locked her door this morning. What happened? 

“But I…” She was in a rush this morning; maybe she forgot to lock it. But even if she didn’t, why did her door open? A busted lock didn’t mean her door shouldn’t shut. The hinges were loose. 

Kelvin sensed her discomfort and growing panic. His eyes cut toward her apartment, whose vanilla and cedarwood scent wafted beneath his nose. He returned his gaze to her.“You sure you closed the door all the way?” 

“Positive.” She nodded. She gnawed on her bottom lip like candy as her brain rattled off a million possibilities that had to make a fraction of sense. “I don’t…maybe the hinges are loose? I don’t want to go in…will you…can you?” 

Kelvin pushed the door open slightly, peeking his head around without further question. “Yeah, stay here.” With the door wide open, she watched his movements intently. Her bags left his strong hands, and she was given a home on the couch. He maneuvered around the living, dining, and kitchen before disappearing down the hallway. She heard light switches flicker and doors open. 

“I think you’re good. We’ll call maintenance first thing in the morning,” he said as he returned down the hallway, suave and confident like he’d been there before. “What do you want to do?” 

Nia’s face twisted. What else was she going to do? There was no other home for her to go to. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do but suck it up; I don’t know…I rather not, but…”

Kelvin’s eyes followed hers as they bounced around her home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a clear sign of fear. Watching her shrink away from her own home felt wrong. He spoke before he thought: “You can stay at my place until they fix the lock if you’d like. I still got the food and a dope DVD collection,” he suggested. 

Nia’s eyebrows raised. She and Kelvin had been neighbors for years, but she had never been in his home, and up until today, he hadn't been in hers either. Her delayed answer caused him to retreat visibly, growing bashful.“I’m sorry…”

Nia smiled shyly. He was so kind. “I don’t want to invade your space, Kel.” He quickly shut down that thought, insisting it was a genuine offer made by his desire for her to feel safe. He insisted that he didn’t mean to overstep, which she shut down by saying, “I don’t think you were overstepping…I wasn’t expecting it, is all, but I do appreciate your offer. Would you mind sticking around while I shower?” 

Kelvin huffed a breath of relief and nodded immediately, “Absolutely.” 

Nia shut the front door as far as possible, pushed a half-full case of water by her door that had been there for days in front of it with her foot, and instructed him to make himself comfortable while she took a quick shower. He then took the time to digest the place she called home. Everything about it screamed her, from the fine-line paintings to the green accent wall with a gold coffee cart pressed against it. Her apartment exuded warmth, which lulled him to sleep against the fuzzy throw blanket on the back of her couch. 

Twenty minutes later, her unforgettable scent pulled him from his light slumber. When he peeled his eyelids open, she stood before him dressed in a satin long-sleeve pajama set with fuzzy slippers, her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her face free of makeup. She looked like a teenager going to her best friend’s house for a sleepover. It was good enough for him if she felt comfortable enough to present herself to him in the way she might do alone. It meant, to some extent, she trusted him. He had never given her a reason not to. He was a gentleman, she insisted. He wouldn’t try anything. Right?

Seeing him asleep on her couch pulled her out of her thoughts.“Sorry, sleeping beauty,” she said. Kelvin gave a lopsided grin. Her laughter softened the tension in the air, and Kelvin couldn’t help but notice how his chest tightened at her relaxed smile. God, she made comfort look effortless and asked if she had all she needed for the night. She nodded, pointing toward the tote on her shoulder. 

The walk to his apartment was short as he only lived two doors down. As they inched closer to his apartment, Nia found herself growing nervous. Was she a fool for going into this man’s home? She had known him for some years, so she did trust him. Maybe she was overthinking. 

Kelvin stuck his key into the door and pushed it open. “Welcome. What’s mine is yours, so make yourself comfortable.” Nia was in awe. Her inner artist wanted to jump up and down. His apartment was every artist’s dream. It was covered in black-and-white prints, abstracts, line art, and much more. It was clean and smelled amazing, and the couch in the middle of the living room looked like a cloud. 

“Your place is beautiful, Kelvin,” Nia complimented genuinely. Kelvin’s eyes dropped just slightly as he thanked her bashfully.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to eat,” he raised the bag of almost-forgotten Chinese food. “The DVDs are in the television stand…or streaming services; pick your poison. Kitchen is to your left, bathroom is down the hall and the first door on your right.” Kelvin locked the front door and jogged toward his bedroom, leaving Nia to make herself comfortable on the kitchen island as she helped herself to some of his food. 

Nia paused for a few moments, realizing she had no fork. She pondered. Would it be rude to go through his drawers? Yes. He did say what was his was hers. But people always say that; did he mean it? Well, he had to if he opened his home to her. “Girl, get it together,” she mumbled. Hunger won the battle over politeness, and she hopped off the bar stool. Her slippers scraped against the floor as she tiptoed around the kitchen like a bandit. 

The first drawer revealed four piles of neatly folded towels, all organized by color. She nodded in approval. “Not bad, Kel.” The second held measuring cups and spatulas. “Okay, chef.” However, the Chinese bag on the island and two additional ones in the trash said otherwise. The third revealed a beautiful set of black silverware. “Victory!” 

Sliding back onto the bar stool, she savored the flavor of the chicken and noodle dish. She glanced around his apartment between bites, taking extra time to examine the art and the stack of records in the corner of the room. His apartment—his home—felt inviting. Like him. 

Sometime later, Kelvin came around the corner, seemingly more relaxed. Sweatpants and a T-shirt had replaced his dress pants and sweater. Nia had seen him in a durag before, but something about it was different this time. His deep stretch exposed the slight curve of his waist beneath his sweatpants, and she found her gaze lingering longer than usual—an amplifier of a pulsing feeling between her thighs. She snapped her eyes away quickly.

“How you feelin’?” He asked as he approached her. Suddenly, Nia felt her heart race as she stammered, I’m good. “Good. Hope you left some food for me. Got some on your face, too.” Nia gasped and scrambled for a napkin, hoping the grease hadn’t made her look like a pig rolling in mud.

Kelvin’s hearty laugh halted her movements. “I’m playing with you, girl.” Nia’s eyes lowered in annoyance. His dimpled smile was the spark that ignited something warm within her. She suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed almost, yet dually at ease. How did he manage to do that?

“Anyway,” Nia dragged, turning on the bar stool to face him. Kelvin leaned against the counter, attentive as he ate the remainder she didn’t eat. Her palms were sweating, and she wondered if it was the temperature in the room or just him standing there, leaning so casually against the counter. She hadn’t expected to feel so… off-balance. She tried not to show how his gaze affected her as she continued, “What does your DVD collection include?” 

Kelvin cocked his head to the side and nodded a few times. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. They were full. Full and plump and moisturized, she wondered what they tas—. Dear God. Nia, get it together, she scolded internally. 

“Damn near every Marvel movie. Most of the Black cinema movies: Love, Jones, A Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Last Holiday, Brown Sugar—“

Nia’s eyes lit up. Kelvin couldn’t miss it. His eyebrow raised, “First one of the night?” She nodded like a kid who cheerfully finished their chores and awaited their allowance. 

“Let’s get it going, then.” 

Kelvin had soon plopped on the couch beside her, the smell of Chinese food lingering between them. Still adjusting to the fact that she was in his home, Nia shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. Her legs, sprawled out normally when she was alone, were tucked tightly beneath her bottom. 

She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, but she kept her gaze ahead. Her heartbeat pounded so vigorously that she felt it in her ears. Curling the blanket tightly under her chin, she shrank into the couch cushion. 

Kelvin didn’t miss the small movements she made to avoid getting close. He sensed the tension but didn’t press. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. After a beat, he reached over her to grab the remote. He didn’t miss how she gasped when his fingertips grazed her ankle in passing. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “You gonna sit over there or come over here and share the blanket?” 

Nia’s eyes darted diagonally as if looking for a way out. Was it that obvious, or was he hyper-vigilant? She shrugged a shoulder. She scooted over just a bit, but not enough to close the large gap between them. 

Kelvin chuckled, the sound warm, “Girl, get over here,” he said softly, a playful yet inviting invitation. He wasn’t about to push her, but he wanted her to feel wanted. 

Nia finally gave in with a reluctant smile. Slowly, she moved until their hips brushed. Kelvin reached over her to adjust the blanket, ensuring she felt comfortable. She stole a glance at him as he adjusted his position. He was so calm and relaxed as if it were natural and second nature. 

They ate silently, passing the food back and forth as their eyes followed the scenes on the screen. They said tiny because they were content but unprepared to address their tension. Everything between them felt effortless, like a routine they’d perfected. 

Halfway through the movie, Nia yawned. Work, shopping, and dealing with her door had done a number on her, and all she desired was her head against a pillow and a room of darkness for eight hours. “I think I’m gonna crash.” Her eyes dropped slightly as she moved the blanket to cover her feet. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch.” 

Kelvin blinked, clearly surprised. “You wanna sleep on the couch?” His voice softened, and Nia saw a hint of concern in his eyes for the first time. “Nah, I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.” He shook his head in disagreement.

Nia’s lips parted, “I don’t want to displace you…”

Kelvin laughed as if what she had said was part of Kevin Hart’s comedy set. “You’re not gonna displace me, Nia; I live here. I’ll be cool, regardless. I didn’t buy those expensive ass couches for no reason. I just don’t want you sleeping on them. Sleep in the bed.”

Her silence and awkward sway didn’t go unnoticed. She fiddled with her fingers like a child and pursed her lips. She knew it was kind of him, but she still felt a smidge of guilt. This man, her neighbor, had opened his home to her, let her eat his food, and lounge on his couch watching her favorite movie. Now, he insisted on her sleeping in his bed, not because he wanted to sleep with her but because he wanted her to be comfortable. Her other neighbors were friendly, but they weren’t kind like this. The kindness was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly sweet. 

Kelvin tilted his head. His words tested unsteady waters: “You want me to sleep with you?” 

And just as she thought she couldn’t get any more flustered, Nia’s face warmed like the earth beneath the sun’s rays. She stammered, “W-what? No—not like that.”

The corner of Kelvin’s lip twitched as he tried to hide his smile. For someone so outwardly confident, Nia had the awkwardness and quirks of a 17-year-old girl. She was easily bashful and overwhelmed, often stuttered over her words when embarrassed and had difficulty keeping eye contact with him after more than 30 seconds. Yet, the average Joe would never know that by her soft smile, steady walk, and confident sway of her hips. It was cute. 

“Not like that,” he reassured softly. “If that’ll make you comfortable. No funny business.” Kelvin raised his hands like a boy scout and nodded stiffly to emphasize his point. Nia rolled her eyes playfully and agreed. For her comfort, she told herself. 

Kelvin instructed her to head to his room, the farthest down the hallway on the left, while he cleaned the laundry room and kitchen. Nia grabbed and slung her tote bag over her shoulder, curiously walking down the hallway. The smell of newly purchased wallflowers caressed her senses, adding a new level to domesticity. 

Kelvin’s room wasn’t like the rest of his home, which was vibrant and full of colors and patterns. His bedroom was calm, dimly lit, and minimal. His bed was in the center and took up most of the space. The cloud-like duvet was pristine white and looked new. Her fingertips caressed the soft fabric. Her brown eyes raised, and she nodded approvingly at what she saw. Three prints hung horizontally above his bed, all fine-line art of the Black woman—beautiful.

Two black nightstands with matching lamps accompanied the bed. One nightstand, which she assumed was his, contained a book, a journal, a BIC pen, and glasses scattered about, while the other was empty, waiting for something to accompany it.

A chair and small table were in the corner, along with books and magazines written by Black authors and published by Black companies, plus a plant. She smiled. It was cozy. 

Nia found her way to the bathroom. Its aesthetic matched his bedroom. Black and white with hints of earthy colors. She set her toiletry bag on the counter next to his, her white one contrasting with his black one. She found herself soaking in his space. Her fingertips ran over the hand towels, sleek hand soap bottles, and the cap that covered his toothbrush. She was with him. In his home. In his room and his bathroom. They were close. 

Nia gasped when the door opened. “Sorry, you alright?” Nia nodded and ushered him in. Kelvin’s body heat set her on fire as he reached above her to grab his contacts case out of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled quietly. He smelled so good. 

His question pulled her out of Lala's land quicker than she would have liked. “You mind if I brush my teeth in here?” 

“It is your house, Kelvin,” Nia stated matter-of-factly. “Go ahead. I need to brush mine, too.” 

The bathroom was quiet, save for the soft hum of Nia's electric toothbrush and the rhythmic sound of bristles against teeth. She hummed absently, her tune mingling with the buzz of the brush. When her eyes lifted to the mirror, she froze, caught off guard—not by her reflection, but by Kelvin’s gaze. He’d already been looking. His brown eyes held hers for a heartbeat, a game of hide-and-seek she hadn’t known she was playing. Then, he winked. Heat crept up her neck as she fought the smile threatening to curl around her sudsy, blue toothbrush.

Kelvin leaned forward, spitting into the sink before rinsing his toothbrush. "You hum off-key, you know that?" he teased, shaking water off his hands.

Nia gave him a dramatic side-eye through the mirror, blue toothpaste foam still coating her lips. "And you hold your toothbrush like you're fencing. What's your point?"

He laughed low and easy, the sound reverberating through the small bathroom. She rinsed her mouth and joined him at the sink. Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm: she reached for the towel as he dried his face, their elbows brushing, but neither pulled away.

"You heading to bed?" she asked, her voice light, as if it wasn’t the only question between them.

Kelvin nodded, tossing the hand towel over the rack. "Yeah. You?"

"Guess so," she said, tucking a stray curl under her bonnet.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment too long as if gauging her next move. Without waiting for his response, she padded toward his room, her bare feet muffled against the carpet. Kelvin followed, flipping the light switch off as he went.

Nia plopped onto the bed, tucking her knees beneath her, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She bit her lip, glancing over at Kelvin, still standing by the dresser and slipping his shirt off. How often did he work out? Three days a week? Four, five? She couldn’t tell, but she knew it was frequent by how his back tensed with subtle movements.  Her mind raced, and she swallowed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh,” she started, her voice quieter than she intended. “I guess this is the part where you’re supposed to say something cute, right?”

Kelvin shot her a playful look, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then half-smiled, her face warming. "I dunno, like 'I’m glad you’re here,' or 'I can’t imagine sleeping without you'… something sweet."

Kelvin chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed into bed beside her. "You want me to lie?"

Nia shrugged, her fingers nervously twisting at the hem of her shirt. "Maybe not lie, just… something that doesn’t sound so weird."

He gave her a teasing look before letting the silence hang for a second, the air between them feeling lighter than before. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I’m glad you’re here."

Her breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t just a casual remark—it was real. He wasn’t trying to ease her anxiety with empty words; it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn't entirely hide the joy she felt from his statement. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him, as his eyebrow raised and his dimples appeared.

“Thanks," Nia murmured, her voice quieter now, almost shy. "I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Nia’s fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, cautious energy buzzing through her veins. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this unsure, but her body betrayed her want with every passing second. One moment, she yearned for his attention; the next, she was shaking like a stripper when she got it. And Lord knows it didn’t help that Kelvin was beside her so calmly as if he didn’t have the treasure between her thighs ready to explore. 

Kelvin, already propped up on the pillows beside her, had an arm behind his head, his eyes casually studying her. Had his eyes always been this pretty? They were so big and brown. Like a baby, though. She glanced at his chest, still warm from the clothes he shed earlier, and she felt her heart race again. What was it about him that made her feel like this? 

Kelvin noticed her gaze, and his lips curved into something that felt like reassurance and an unspoken invitation. His hand moved, resting just above her knee, but he didn’t lean any closer. He didn’t have to; the space between them felt alive, thick with anticipation.

“You okay?” His voice was low and soft, like he knew exactly how she felt.

Nia swallowed, her throat dry. Glancing away, she bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. She was more than okay, but putting that into words seemed too much. She nodded, her voice small when she spoke.

“Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Kelvin’s hand shifted from her knee to her thigh, his touch lingering there. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”

She could feel his warmth through the fabric of her pants, and her breath hitched slightly at the feel of his palm pressing against her. She wanted to say something—to laugh it off, to ease the tension—but her mind was fuzzy, distracted by how her body responded to his touch. Yeah, just you, she said to herself—the man who had seemingly flipped her already wild world on its head even further.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, she moved slightly closer. Her back brushed against his chest, and she heard his breath catch at the slight contact. Her heartbeat sped up as she felt the heat radiating off of him. But still, she didn’t turn toward him, not yet. She was unsure, but she also wanted him there.

Kelvin’s hand shifted again, inching up her side, his fingertips grazing the skin beneath her shirt. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in just slightly as if to say something, but his voice faltered, caught between them.

Nia’s body responded before her mind did, her back relaxing as she pressed closer to him. It wasn’t much—just a shift—but it felt like a silent invitation. And it was all he needed.

His fingers found their way to her waist, gently caressing the curve of her body. The movement was so slow that it was almost as if he were waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she let herself melt into his touch. Her heart was racing.

Kelvin’s heart raced, too, but it wasn’t from the anticipation. It was the unfamiliar tug of something deeper. His hand, still resting lightly on Nia’s waist, seemed almost too heavy now. He had to fight the instinct to pull away, to give her space—but there was something about how she shifted toward him, her breath soft against the air, that made him want to lean in closer. He could smell the hints of vanilla and honey on her skin. He wanted to bury his nose in her neck and inhale.

He didn’t want to move too fast. Didn’t want to scare her off. But every little breath she took, every slight movement she made, felt like an invitation for something more.

His hand stayed where it was, not quite touching the softness of her skin beneath her shirt but just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. He wanted to trace the curve of her waist, feel her breath hitch again, maybe even make her laugh or stammer, but there was a part of him—this silent voice in the back of his mind—that told him to wait. Patience was a virtue, grandmother always said.

He shifted slightly, his gaze flickering from the softness of her face to the curve of her neck. His lips tingled as he imagined kissing her there. He felt her pulse beneath his lips as her body reacted to him in ways it may not have responded before. But he pulled himself back, catching himself just before his thoughts got too far ahead. Nia was already nervous, already unsure. 

Her back pressed against his chest, and the simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, sharper than anything physical. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the cool sheets around them, and he could feel every inch of her. What if he moved too fast? What if he said the wrong thing?

Kelvin wasn’t one for hesitation, but with Nia, everything was different. He wanted to be gentle, to let her feel like she wasn’t just a passing moment. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to know that when he touched her, it wasn’t just about tonight. 

Finally, when she moved closer again, he couldn’t hold back. His hand, frozen in place, finally pulled her in closer. His fingers skimmed the skin of her abdomen as he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter. This time, when she exhaled, her body relaxed into him, and his breath came out in a rush of relief.

“Goodnight, Kel,” Nia murmured into her arm. 

“Sleep well, beautiful,” was the last thing she heard before falling into her best sleep in a long time. Because, for once, she didn’t have to go to bed alone.

-

Part two

[strawberrystepmom]

umemiya x f!reader. reader is wearing a bathing suit. established relationship, very suggestive, mentions of marriage. | divider thanks to cafekitsune like always, wc 1k even.

The haze of summer has settled thickly over all of Makochi, the air almost heavy enough to wrap around you and wear it. A subtle sheen of humidity settles over your shoulders and face; cicadas sing their song in the distance and wind chimes tinkle when a breeze mercifully blows by to cool your heated skin. The heat can’t prevent you from being outside, though. You lie on your belly beneath the blazing sun in your stringiest bikini, legs stretched out behind you while Hajime cares for his personal garden - the one meant just for the two of you - atop his apartment building. He hums a little tune, occasionally throwing in a whistle for good measure to make you giggle at him while your cheek rests against your folded arms, watching his every move.

It didn’t feel so hot about fifteen minutes ago but now that you’re watching sweat dampen the back of his white t-shirt and cling to his body, you sigh dramatically and he’s at your side in an instant, ever in tune with whatever you need.

“What’s wrong?”

You glance up at him and smile, unfolding your arms and stretching them above your head, flipping from your belly onto your back to give him a view of the front of you, gentle grooves in your skin when you shift from how tightly your bathing suit is secured around you. He doesn’t hide his ogling, raking steel blue eyes from your throat to your belly button and to your thighs, wiping his hairline with his forearm.

“Wanna use those broad shoulders to block the sun for me for a few minutes?”

Hajime smiles and nods wordlessly at your request, taking a few big steps to the left to block the sun from getting in your eyes, casting a tall and cool shadow over your upper body. He wipes his hands together to free them of any dirt or grime from the plants, twisting his body to point them in the opposite direction of where you lie across a large old sheet, your sandals pinning down opposite corners to keep the breeze from blowing it up. Removing one of his gloves, he pops it in his pocket and reaches down to press his palm against your skin, hissing through his teeth.

“Hot even for you.” He raises a brow, wrapping up his perpetual fussing over you in humor to prevent you from insisting that he does too much. “You really do need shade, huh? Poor thing.”

“My hero.” You nod, putting a smile on his face. 

Umemiya sinks down, kneeling beside you and changing his shadow so that it covers even more of you, your thighs now cooled by the shade provided by his size. He drags his palm from your waist upward toward the triangles of your top, slipping a finger beneath the tiny string stretched across your sternum.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Glancing up at him, you bite back a smile and shake your head, his finger still gently toying with your top. You reach out to toy with him now, gently tugging at the damp collar of his shirt, dragging your palm down his chest.

“No, I wanna be out here with you. You’re hot too, we can suffer together.”

Neither of you are suffering very badly if the way each of you is glancing at the other is any indication of what's really happening here, eyes half lidded, fingers itching to explore sweat slicked skin. Hajime wants to spring into action and plan a way to grow an entire canopy over the roof to ensure you are never uncomfortable but he’s a little distracted at the moment, your hand sliding further down his torso and beneath the hemline of his shirt to rest against his warm skin and hardened muscle.

“What are you up to?” He asks with a smile. He drops from his squat position to sitting next to you, legs spread while he leans down to kiss your lips gently, as sweet as the breeze that ruffles the ends of his hair. “Besides making sure I get nothing done today.”

Giggling, you kiss him back. One set of fingers thread through his hair, brushing it back from his face in the style he prefers and the other drags down his torso toward the waistband of his shorts, playfully tickling him along the way.

“You just make the best umbrella.” You crane your neck to kiss him again, hand settling around the back of his neck to keep him close to you. “Maybe that should be your new name, Hajime Umbrella.” He chuckles and moves closer to you, lowering himself until his arms cage either side of you, his body twisted to hover slightly above yours.

“Then you’d just be Mrs. Umbrella someday but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You wiggle beneath him at the insinuation that you’ll be carrying his last name, something even warmer than today’s temperature pooling beneath your skin. Umemiya laughs and leans in to kiss you again, foregoing any sense of decorum to slowly slide his body over the top of yours. His thighs join his arms in caging you in, pinned to the sheet beneath your back, the sound of distant wind chimes carrying across the cloudless sky to mingle with your giggles.

“Come on Mrs. Umbrella,” he jokes again, sliding his hand up your side. “Let’s work out here a little longer and then we can go inside, alright?”

Your back arches in response to his touch. He takes advantage of the position, reaching into the small space between your back and the sheet to untie your top. He doesn’t immediately move it to expose you, allowing you to make that decision for yourself. 

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

You grin up at him until he envelops you in a sultry kiss, one that truly matches this summer heat, helping him remove his sweaty shirt an arm at a time and tossing it aside. 

[airandyeah]

Footballplayer!Sukuna X Toughgirl!Reader Who Do You Think I Am? Pt.1

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The morning air is cool, but the sun’s already burning through it—heat shimmering against the sidewalk as you step through the gates of your new school.

Your boots thud quietly with each step, black leather sleek against the worn pavement. Jeans fitted just right, dark and cuffed, hug your legs with a sharpness that says you know exactly what you’re doing. A tucked black polo clings to your frame, understated but crisp. A studded belt slouches low around your hips, not for utility, but for style—and the message is clear: you don’t need to try hard to be noticed. You just are.

Your backpack shifts with your stride, weighed down by a riot of keychains and enamel pins that jingle softly—little ghosts, sparkly skulls, band logos, and the occasional cursed-looking charm. Your arms are full of books, no time wasted fumbling with a bag. You're here to get through the day, not impress anyone.

Then the noise starts.

Girls hollering from the front steps. Whistles. Screams. Someone yelling his name like it’s a prayer and a curse all at once.

You don’t even flinch.

Just the faint whine of a motor—deep, low, and smug—crawling closer through the noise. You shift your books in your arms, barely glancing up as a matte-black motorcycle rolls up alongside the curb like it owns the place.

Pink hair. Piercings. A cocky grin framed by tattoos you can spot even from here.

He takes off the helmet like he’s unwrapping a gift. The crowd eats it up.

You keep walking.

Because whoever the hell that is, he’s not your problem.

Not yet. ~~~ The first week is a blur of buildings that all look the same and hallways that smell like floor wax and stale ambition. The campus is stuffy—both in architecture and attitude. Ivy climbs the stone walls like it's trying to escape, but you’ve got nowhere to climb. So you walk.

You start to recognize the cliques pretty quickly.

The "cool" kids drape themselves across benches like they’re posing for a magazine—perfect hair, perfect smiles, dead eyes. The athletes move in packs, always laughing too loud, always at the center of some gravity you don’t care to feel. Nerds shuffle by in clusters, voices low and frantic, textbooks practically fused to their hands. Then the outliers—the ones who tried too hard to look like they weren’t trying at all. Losers, weirdos, wannabes. Every label pressed into place, neat and suffocating.

You stay on the edges. You don’t talk much. You don’t need to. No one interests you enough to try.

But then there’s her.

Tiffany.

Blonde. Bubbly. Relentlessly cheerful in a way that felt forced but also strangely… genuine. She attaches herself to you on day three like she’s decided your life needed more pink and perfume.

At first, you think she’s just lost. Then you realize she’s made herself at home.

She talks. A lot. About boys, lip gloss, horoscopes, drama you couldn’t care less about. She never asks if you want to listen, never pauses long enough for you to answer even if she did.

You try to shake her once. Maybe twice.

She doesn’t take the hint.

Eventually, you stop trying.

She’s annoying, sure—but she also never asked you to be anyone but exactly who you are. No prying questions, no judgment. Just endless chatter and a weird sort of loyalty.

So you get used to it. The babbling. The perfume. The blonde blur at your side.

And though you’d never admit it, you kind of start to expect her there.

Like a puppy with lip gloss and too much eyeliner.

By the end of the week, you’ve adjusted to Tiffany’s ceaseless chatter. You stop tuning her out so completely, giving half-hearted responses here and there, nodding along as she tells you about some guy in her philosophy class who apparently “stares at her like he’s in love.” You really couldn’t care less, but it’s easier to just respond than to keep pretending you're too cool for this.

“Yeah, maybe he likes you.” “Mmhm, maybe you should talk to him.”

You’re so deep in this mindless back-and-forth that you barely notice you’re at your locker until Tiffany’s voice rings louder than usual.

“So, like, what do you think of the football team? They’re all soooo hot. Especially—”

You’re just about to tell her to ease off the whole "football team" conversation, tucking your books inside your locker with a sigh, when—

BOOM.

A body crashes into yours, sending your books flying out of your arms. You stumble back, catching yourself with your shoulder slamming against the locker door, but you don’t lose your balance. You don’t even flinch. No, instead, you whip around with your finger already pointed, your hand snapping to the air like a warning shot.

“What the hell, asshole?” you snap, the words firing out with no hesitation. “Watch where you’re going!”

You don’t wait for him to speak first. You don’t care if he’s some campus legend or the football team’s king. He ran into you. And that makes him your problem.

The guy you’re facing is none other than the football player Sukuna—the one whose name has been buzzing around like a bad perfume all week. The pink-haired, motorbike-riding menace who seems to think the world revolves around him.

He stands there, towering over you, eyes narrowing like he's ready to chew you up and spit you out. But you’re not backing down.

You stick your finger straight into his chest, pushing him back a little. You can feel the heat radiating off him, but it’s nothing compared to the fire you’re throwing back at him.

"Are you seriously gonna stand there like I’m the problem? You hit me, dipshit." Your voice rises with every word, making sure the whole damn hallway hears you. “So, get your shit together and watch your step next time.”

For a moment, Sukuna’s glare holds. The world feels like it’s waiting for him to do something—anything. He doesn’t have that usual cocky smirk on his face. Instead, it’s... a little tight. A little too quiet.

And then—hell freezes over—he mumbles something under his breath. An apology. You almost don’t hear it, it’s so soft and unwilling, but it’s there. He doesn’t even meet your eyes as he steps back, almost like he’s trying to get away from you without making a bigger scene.

You watch him walk off, jaw clenched, tail tucked between his legs. The hallway buzzes with confused whispers, the girls around you still trying to piece together what just happened.

You just roll your eyes, grabbing your books from the floor with a sharp breath. You’ve got better things to do than deal with whatever this is.

Tiffany stands frozen beside you, looking like she just saw a god get knocked off his pedestal.

And you? You just shake your head and push past her, muttering under your breath as you make your way to class.

“Idiots.” ~~~

The next morning, you barely remember yesterday. It’s not that you don’t remember him—how could you forget the pink-haired jerk who had the audacity to bump into you like you were some invisible wall? It’s just that, for you, things are never worth dwelling on for long. Besides, it’s the start of a new day, and you’ve got other things to focus on.

Today, you feel different. Better. You throw on your usual outfit—black boots, but these have added buckles this time, making them even more badass. You loop another studded belt on your hip for good measure, letting it dangle a little more loose than usual. You don’t care if it’s loud or not. You’re the one wearing it. You grab your books and head out, feeling a little more like yourself.

The campus is already alive with chatter as you walk in. The smell of fresh coffee wafts through the air, the sound of sneakers and boots against pavement mixing with the distant hum of cars in the parking lot. It’s all just background noise to you. You’re not thinking about yesterday anymore.

That is, until you hear it.

The unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine cutting through the air like it owns the whole damn place. You don’t even flinch, not like the other girls around you, their heads snapping toward the sound in sync like they’re all hypnotized. They start whispering and giggling. You can practically feel the energy shift, and you don’t have to look to know who it is.

Sukuna.

The same loud, obnoxious jerk who somehow thought he could push you around. But today, you don’t care.

You keep walking with your head held high, your boots clicking against the pavement with purpose. You’re not about to let anyone’s presence, especially his, mess with your groove. You adjust your backpack, adding a little swagger to your steps, watching the heads turn as Sukuna pulls up near the entrance. His usual cocky smirk is plastered on his face as he kicks off his helmet and swings his leg over his bike like he's some kind of celebrity.

You don’t even spare him a glance, though. You just keep walking, your mind already drifting to your next class. The last thing on your mind is that annoying guy.

But of course, fate’s a little too eager to let things slide.

Out of nowhere, you feel a hand on your shoulder. A heavy one.

You know exactly who it is without even turning around. Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“You’re still walking like you own the place, huh?”

You roll your eyes, trying not to make eye contact.

“What, did you forget you made a scene yesterday?” you reply, casually brushing his hand off your shoulder, still not looking at him.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Sukuna speaks again, this time quieter. Almost as if he’s reconsidering how he usually approaches people.

“Not gonna yell at me today?”

You finally turn to face him, meeting his intense red gaze. For a moment, you almost forget why you’re annoyed with him in the first place. His usual cocky demeanor is still there, but there's something different about him today—something a little... unsure?

You give him a lazy, half-smile. "Nah, not today. Just keep your distance, yeah?"

He looks taken aback for a moment, but then that same smugness creeps back onto his face. “Tch. Whatever.” And with a final glance, he walks off, his boots thudding loudly as he heads into the building.

You watch him go, a strange feeling stirring in your stomach. Not anger, not excitement—just something weird. You shake your head, pushing it down. You’ve got bigger things to deal with than him.

Tiffany, who has been watching the whole exchange, practically jumps up to your side, all wide eyes and loud whispers.

“Oh my god, did you just—did you just shut him down like that?” she exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement.

You just give her a smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. “What can I say? I don’t need to waste energy on guys like him.”

But as you turn back to walk into the building, a small part of you wonders... What’s the deal with him, anyway?

Tag list is always open! Tags: @nina6708 , @sherrieblossoms , @charlie-xo , @iloveredwineee Perm Tags: Perm tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[felinecyan]

Wonders of the Skies

[Keigo Takami x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When he finds himself bored, stressed, or tired… he seeks comfort in not only the stars, but his favorite spot to relax, right on your balcony.

WC: 3634

Category: Fluff, Pre-Rise of Villains arc

Since my other fics are filled with angsty drama (and my birthday is officially four days away 🗣️), I decided to be nice and drop one that’s full-on fluff. Enjoy ☺️

『••✎••』

The stars being out should've been his first sign. The clouds were thin, the night sky clear of any smog, and the wind was still. A beautiful night. The perfect night for such a tiring day.

He was all over the place with his schedule. Between patrolling his section of Musutafu, taking reports from his informants, and training his little fledgling, he could barely catch a breath. Not to mention, he had to deal with the paperwork that came from the Hero Commission.

So he was exhausted. He needed a breather—something to make his body relax after being worked so hard. So, wishful thinking and a bit of insomnia were the perfect excuse for him not to enter the warmth of his apartment.

And there you were. Standing on your balcony, leaning against the railing as the soft breeze of the night blew. The moon's soft glow reflected against your skin and hair. The way the light framed your face and illuminated your skin was nothing short of beautiful.

You had no idea he was there, standing on the rooftop just above your apartment building. He always did this. On nights when he felt the weight of his responsibilities too much, he would come to you.

Your apartment was one of the tallest buildings in his area. It gave him a bird's eye view of everything below, the perfect vantage point for him to keep a watchful eye out for anything suspicious.

It was just an added bonus that you were here.

The first time he came here, he only stayed for a couple of minutes before returning home. He was just checking the place out and getting familiar with the area. Then, he found you.

He saw how you leaned on the railing of the balcony, gazing at the night sky and humming along to a tune only you knew. It was something he was familiar with, something that soothed his mind, but he couldn't figure out where he had heard it before.

So, he asked you in the most subtle way possible.

"What are you humming?"

And the reaction you had was enough to make his forced smile genuine.

Thinking back on it, he probably shouldn't have popped up like a damn jack-in-the-box. You were peacefully enjoying the night sky until you looked up into his upside-down face and nearly had a heart attack.

His first meeting with you was definitely memorable.

He remembered the look of absolute shock and fear as you stared into his face. And then he remembered the moment your expression shifted into one of irritation as you scolded him for scaring the hell out of you.

You, scolding the number three hero for scaring you. You had some serious guts to do something like that.

That's what intrigued him about you in the first place. It was a nice refresher when comparing you to his... "fanbase."

But he was getting off-topic.

As he gazed at you from the rooftop, he felt his eyes soften. It was odd how you had this effect on him.

Just looking at you made him feel relaxed. Not to mention your voice, how sweet and comforting it sounded. Even if you were just humming, you still held his attention.

He could listen to your voice all day.

He let out a quiet sigh as he leaned on the railing of the roof. From up here, you seemed so small, almost insignificant compared to the size of his city. But, in his mind, you were much bigger than the city itself.

He couldn't quite explain why, but there was something about you that made him feel comfortable. Your presence alone was enough to make him feel at peace.

With one final sigh, he hopped down from the rooftop. He wasn't properly wearing his headpiece, but it was fine. He didn't mind the whistle of the wind in his ears. It was only for a few seconds, anyway.

In no time at all, right before he hit the ground, he snapped open his wings and caught the wind. He watched as you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his boots thudding against your metal railing. You spun around, looking like a deer caught in headlights, only to glare at him when you realized who was the cause of your heart stopping.

"Jeez, Hawks," You placed a hand over your chest. "A warning would be nice."

He chuckled as he landed in front of you. His wings were open wide, the tips of his feathers brushing against the edges of the railing. "But then I wouldn't get to see that adorable look on your face."

You huffed and crossed your arms, your glare still in place. It didn't seem like you were really mad, though. There was a twitch in your lips that made him smirk.

There were some things he could really struggle with, but deciphering all the emotions and expressions on people's faces? That was easy. It was something he needed to learn when he was younger, and while he might not use the skill often, he was still happy to have it.

It helped him get a read on people, and more importantly, it helped him know villains and criminals.

And, occasionally, it helped him figure out what the hell you were thinking.

"How was work today?" You asked, already forgiving him for scaring the shit out of you. "Busy?"

"Eh, the usual," he waved off. "Patrol was a breeze. A couple of muggers were caught stealing purses, but that's about it."

He watched as you tilted your head, your brow raised. "You're not telling me the whole story."

"Well, what can I say?" He shrugged, finally hopping down from the railing. He stretched out his wings and folded them against his back. "I'm a man of many talents. Gotta keep some of the fun parts to myself, right?"

You scoffed, opting to stare at the city below rather than give him a response. He didn't mind, though. He liked looking at you, whether it was your face or the scenery.

"What about you?" He asked, stepping beside you. "How was your day?"

"Good." You sighed. "I'm happy it's Friday. I needed this break."

He chuckled. "Don't we all?"

Though, he never really took breaks. Well, not proper ones, at least. The closest he got to a vacation was going undercover for an extended period of time. But that was far from relaxing.

"I had to set up a surprise party for one of my friends," you said, a tired smile on your face. "Well, technically, I didn't have to, but I wanted to. He's been through a lot recently, so I thought it would help lift his spirits a bit."

"Sounds like a fun time," Keigo mused, a smile on his face. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, his birthday," you answered, your gaze shifting back to the city. "I've never celebrated his birthday, so this is the first time I've ever thrown a party for him. I'm honestly a bit worried that it won't be good."

Keigo hummed and turned to face the city. "I'm sure he'll love it. It's the thought that counts, right?"

"Yeah." You laughed quietly, looking at the sky. "I just hope he'll enjoy it."

For a few moments, silence enveloped the two of you. A comfortable one, but still silence. It gave him the time to appreciate the view in front of him.

Sure, the city lights were bright, and the air was a little stuffy, but the moon's light and the stars' glittering made it worth it, especially when they were reflected in your eyes.

You looked ethereal.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly," you said softly as if the sound of your voice would disturb the stars. "What it would feel like to soar through the sky. Just imagine the view."

He looked at you, watching your expression carefully. You didn't notice his eyes on you. Instead, your attention was on the sky, your gaze full of wonder.

He hummed, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Want a demonstration?"

You snapped your head towards him, your eyes wide. "What?"

Without saying a word, he removed the headset against his neck and slid it back where it belonged. He turned his body towards yours and spread his wings, stretching them out. He then reached his hands out to you, his smile growing wider.

"What are you doing?" You asked, eyeing his hands cautiously.

"What do you think?" He retorted. "Come on, take my hands. I won't drop you."

Your expression didn't change. If anything, your wariness grew.

"What?" He teased. "Scared? You don't trust me?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You know, it's times like these that make me question our friendship."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, his smile remaining. "Just take my hands. It'll be fun."

For a second, you continued to stare at him. And then you let out a sigh.

"Okay, fine," you muttered, grabbing onto his hands. He figured you probably thought you'd have time to relax and prep yourself, but no. He couldn't be here for too long, and this bird never liked being cooped up.

He only waited long enough to ensure you wouldn't fly out of his arms. Then, with a mighty flap of his wings, he pushed the two of you into the air.

The look on your face was priceless.

He'd seen fear before. Hell, he'd experienced it plenty of times. But seeing it on you? It was hilarious.

Your grip on his arms tightened, and your legs flailed around in a desperate attempt to find something to hold onto. And even though he couldn't hear you, the way your mouth opened was enough to tell him that you were screaming.

His stomach hurt from how hard he was laughing. He wanted to look at your face again, but he didn't want to kill the two of you. So, he opted to keep his focus on the sky above and the city below.

He made sure to avoid the clouds and kept his wings steady. You wanted a demonstration, right? Well, a demonstration you'd get.

He glided through the sky, letting his feathers do the hard work. And while he had been in the air countless times, this felt different.

Usually, when he was flying, it was because he had to save someone. He didn't have time to appreciate the view or take in the fresh air. And even when he had some spare time, he would spend it napping or taking reports from his informants.

But now, he could relax. No emergencies, no patrols, no paperwork, and no informants. It was just him, the stars, and you.

And for once, he felt like a regular guy.

He wasn't Hawks, the number two hero, or the kid with too many feathers and not enough time. He was just a regular guy—someone who could fly and who could show the wonders of the skies.

"You can open your eyes now," he called out, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard. Of course, he wasn't completely sure they were even closed in the first place, but you were clutching his arms pretty tightly, so he figured it was safe to assume they were.

Slowly, he felt your grip loosen. Your legs stopped moving, and your head turned away from him. Your eyes were closed, and he watched as you hesitantly cracked them open.

He didn't say anything as you stared at the sky, your eyes wide. The look on your face was one he would treasure forever.

Your mouth was parted slightly, your gaze was full of wonder and amazement, and your expression was a mixture of surprise and joy.

It was like a child seeing a new toy.

"Woah," you breathed out, your grip loosening more. "This is... wow."

"Right?" He laughed. "Oh, here, let me lend you some help."

Before you could ask what he meant, the pair of visors against his head detached themselves and flew in front of you. As quickly as they were removed, they were replaced, and he smiled at the gasp that left your lips.

"The wind gets annoying," he explained, a smirk on his face. "This makes it easier to enjoy the view."

"Don't you need them? To see, I mean."

Aw, concerned for his safety. How cute.

"Nah," he waved off, "I've done this plenty of times. My eyes are used to the wind."

You hummed, and then your arms moved up and rested on his shoulders. Your legs stopped flailing around, and your body leaned closer to his. He was glad you did. You were starting to slip.

"Is this better?" He teased, a grin on his face. "No more screaming, I hope?"

You glared at him, though there was no heat behind it. "You know what? Yes, it is. Now, can we please focus on the view?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. We can."

After a few minutes, your gaze finally left him and settled on the view. He took the chance to look at you, to memorize your features, and to burn the image of you in his mind.

He didn't need the view you needed; he's seen it plenty of times. Instead, he wanted the view he'd never get a chance to see—the one where you were enjoying yourself.

He wished the moment would last longer so that he would have more time to put a smile on your face, but the time flew by. Plus, he needed at least two hours of rest, and it was already close to midnight.

So, he slowly descended back onto the balcony, landing softly and gently. Disappointment was clear on your face as you gave him back his visors and looked at the sky longingly.

He understood. It was the same feeling he had whenever he landed. It was nice being in the sky. It was nice not having a care in the world.

It was nice being free.

"Thanks for that," you said, turning to him with a small smile. "That was amazing."

"You're welcome," he smiled, taking off his headset and resting it against his neck once again. "Hate to ruin the mood, but unfortunately, duty calls."

"Already?" You frowned, "At least stay for some tea."

He would love to, but he really shouldn't. He was already pushing his limit as it was.

"Sorry, doll," he sighed. "Another time, okay?"

You let out a quiet hum and looked at the city. He followed your gaze, and for a second, the two of you stood in silence.

He couldn't believe it's been three months.

It felt like yesterday that he found you on the balcony. Now, you were standing in front of him, offering him a drink, and he was about to reject it.

But he couldn't, not today. Today, he needed to leave.

With a sigh, he turned towards the railing and stretched his wings. His boots scraped against the metal bars as he climbed up, his feet finding purchase on the railing. He looked back at you, his wings twitching as he prepared to take flight.

"Wait!"

He froze, his body turning towards you. He cocked his head to the side and watched as you walked towards him.

"Before you go," you said, a hand reaching into your pocket. You pulled out a key, its surface shining brightly from the moon's light. "I wanted to give you this."

He felt his heart drop as he took the key. He looked down at it, his fingers grazing over the metal.

"That... surprise party I mentioned earlier? I'm going to change it to a dinner," you said, giving him a gentle smile. "I feel it aligns with your schedule better; more of a chance for you to drop by, you know?"

He felt his eyes soften, and a small smile formed on his face.

"Why change the entire birthday party because of me?" He asked, raising a brow. "Shouldn't it be what your friend wants? Since it's his special day and all that?"

"Well, yeah, but—" You hesitated. "I mean... don't you look at dates? You know what date it's going to be in... I don't know, five minutes?"

He raised a brow, the smile on his face widening.

"It's going to be the 28th of December."

"Yes, and...?"

You blinked.

"What do you mean, and?"

"Do you want the exact time and minute, too?"

Your lips were parted, and your eyes were wide. He couldn't help but laugh at the look on your face. You looked so shocked, so surprised.

"I can't believe it," you mumbled, your mouth finally closing. "So, you're telling me that it is so insignificant that you can't even remember the date of your own birthday?"

That smile of his... faltered.

His heart dropped.

His stomach twisted.

His blood turned cold.

What did you just say?

"My birthday?" He croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. Oh, how his voice shook.

"Yes, your birthday," you replied. "When's the last time you celebrated it?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind was blank. He couldn't remember. Of course, he knew what tomorrow was; he always made himself aware of the date, but what about the day itself? He didn't have a clue.

He'd never celebrated his birthday, not since the Commission took him. There wasn't a reason to, and there wasn't a need for it. You had asked him when it was three weeks ago, and he remembered every conversation and figured it was plain curiosity.

He thought you'd forgotten.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes snapped towards yours, and the concern in them almost made him fall. Almost.

"I... got it right, didn't I?" You whispered, taking a step towards him. "I didn't just mess up your date, did I?"

"No, no, you didn't." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "It's just that... well, I haven't celebrated my birthday in a long time. I... honestly didn't think I was missing out on much."

You hummed and nodded to the key in his hand. "Well, how about we start now?"

He looked down at the object in his hands. His fingers brushed over the smooth surface. It felt warm against his skin, almost as if it were inviting him.

"Tomorrow, we'll celebrate your birthday," you continued, your voice soft and comforting. "Whenever you can. I'm not sure if you're going to be able to make it, and I'm okay with that, but if you can, then that's great."

"I—" He looked at you, his eyes shining. "How'd you know I'd visit tonight?"

You snorted, a small smile on your face. "You always visit on Tuesdays. I didn't have high hopes, but I'm glad I did it anyway."

He was stunned. Speechless, even. He didn't even realize every time he visited was on a Tuesday. Hell, he didn't even know he had a schedule.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" You nudged him gently. "Go home. Get some rest. Stop by tomorrow if you can, or just enjoy the day. Either way, happy birthday, Hawks."

His wings twitched, and a warmth filled his chest. His eyes softened, and his lips curved upwards.

"Keigo."

You faltered, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Huh? You want me to leave?"

"...What?"

"You said 'okay go' so—"

"No, no, that's not what I—" He let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm saying, Keigo. Call me Keigo."

"...what?"

He was starting to regret this.

"My name," he clarified, looking at you. "Keigo Takami. That's my name. You don't have to call me Hawks, not if I can call you by your name. Just... uh, don't go around calling me that, you know? Keep it a secret. Between us. Yeah?"

He cringed. God, he sounded so awkward.

But it didn't matter because you evidently didn't hear the stutters and the hesitation in his voice. Or maybe you did and were nice enough not to point it out.

Either way, a wide smile was on your face, and your eyes were bright.

"Happy birthday then, Keigo."

Oh, he wasn't used to this. Hearing his name was a new experience. It's been so long, so, so long since he heard it. Honestly, it's been so long, and his brain was trying so hard to connect his name to him.

He missed hearing his name.

He loved his name.

"Thank you," he smiled, and it was the most genuine smile he's ever made.

And then he jumped. His wings spread, and he took off into the night. But unlike the other times, he didn't go straight home.

Instead, he went higher, higher, higher. Until he couldn't, and then he stopped, his gaze fixed on the sky.

There were so many stars, and the moon was big and bright. The wind was harsh, but he didn't mind. He was used to it, after all.

But what he wasn't used to was the warmth in his chest. It was foreign and strange, but he liked it. He liked the way it made him feel, and he wanted to keep it forever.

And so, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And, without a doubt in his mind, he said the words that were stuck in his throat for so long.

"Happy birthday to me."

Because not even two minutes after he left, on the 28th of December, 00:01 AM, he received a text from you:

The key wasn't your actual gift, by the way, so make sure you eventually swing by, whether it be tomorrow or next week.

Again, happy birthday!

And then warm feeling in his chest only grew

[thirtysomethingloser92]

If you are still takin one shot prompts can you write something with Remy x female reader where they are always arguing but everyone knows they’re in love with each other except the two of them? With smut?

(Idk if u do kinks and feel free to ignore this bit if u don’t but if u do can you write in heavy praise kink?)

Love ur writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Warning: Contains Smut. I dunno how to feel about this one honestly, it was written in a haze of sleep deprivation and absence of coffee; but I still hope you enjoy!

The X-Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon, a rare occurrence that most of the team appreciated. With no missions on the horizon and the younger students out on a field trip, the mansion basked in an almost eerie calm. That is, until Remy Lebeau strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune with his typical swagger, and found you rummaging through the fridge.

“Mon dieu, chérie, y’ coulda left me somethin’ to eat,” Remy drawled, leaning casually against the counter.

You didn’t even glance back at him, too focused on your hunt for leftovers. “If you weren’t always late, you’d have something left,” you shot back, finally pulling out a container of pasta. “Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t eat this too.”

He smirked, staring at you with those infuriatingly charming red-on-black eyes. “Lucky, huh? I’d call it somethin’ else, but I ain’t here to argue semantics.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh really? Because that’s all you seem to be good at.”

“Non, non, I’m good at plenty o’ things, chérie. You just never give me a chance t’ show you.” He winked, and you felt a familiar heat crawl up your neck—annoyance, definitely annoyance.

“You know what, Remy? You could charm the devil himself, but it won’t work on me,” you retorted, grabbing a fork and digging into the pasta defiantly.

“Is that a challenge, chérie?” Remy leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your heart skip a beat, not that you’d ever admit it.

“You wish,” you muttered around a mouthful of food.

Before he could reply, Storm walked into the kitchen, her eyes flicking between the two of you with an amused smile. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer. You and Remy had been at each other’s throats for years. From the moment you first joined the team, there was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was his cocky attitude, the way he sauntered into every room like he owned the place, or the way he always had some snarky comment ready no matter what you said. It didn’t help that he was infuriatingly charming, either—always ready with a flirtatious quip, especially when you were at your most exasperated.

But as the years went by, something shifted. What started as irritation evolved into something more complex, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was as if every argument, every sarcastic exchange, was building something between you—a tension that neither of you could deny, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

You’d find yourself lying awake at night, replaying your latest spat with him in your head, only to realize that you weren’t just angry—you were excited. You started to notice the way his eyes sparkled when he got under your skin, or how his voice softened ever so slightly when the banter got too heated. It was maddening, really, how much he affected you, and how you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, even when you wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

The worst part was, you knew he felt it too. You could see it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or in the way he’d linger just a little too long in a room after everyone else had left, as if waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the tension. And yet, you both kept dancing around it, neither one willing to be the first to admit that the fiery arguments weren’t just arguments anymore.

That morning in the kitchen was just the latest in a long string of these encounters. Five years of sniping at each other, of pretending that the growing heat between you was just frustration, not something deeper, something almost… intoxicating.

“Just tryin’ t’ get somethin’ t’ eat, Stormy,” Remy said with that familiar grin, leaning casually against the counter. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you busied yourself with your breakfast, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up whenever he was near.

Storm raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. “And are you succeeding?”

“Not yet, but y’know, she likes t’ make it difficult,” he replied, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your pulse quickened. “If by ‘difficult’ you mean not letting you steal my food, then sure.”

Storm chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re not the problem here,” you insisted, but even as you said it, you noticed the knowing look Storm gave Remy. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying this little game far too much.

“Whatever you say,” Storm replied, her tone light but her eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just... try not to burn the kitchen down, alright?” With that, she left the room, leaving you alone with Remy again.

“She’s got a point, y’know,” Remy said after a moment, his voice taking on that maddeningly smooth tone that always seemed to get under your skin. “We do seem t’ have a bit of a... fiery relationship.”

You glared at him, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected you. “Keep dreaming, Lebeau.”

“I don’t need t’ dream, chérie. I got all I need right here,” he replied, his voice softening in a way that made your stomach do flips.

And there it was again—those words that left you momentarily speechless, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t have a snappy comeback, which was rare. Instead, you just stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you.

Before you could decide, Jubilee burst into the kitchen, her usual energy crackling around her like static electricity. “Hey, have you guys seen—oh, never mind, found them!” she said, her eyes darting between you and Remy. “You two arguing again?”

“Not argu—“ you started, but Remy cut you off.

“Just a lil’ friendly banter,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Jubilee sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You two need to just kiss already and get it over with.”

You almost choked on your pasta, your eyes widening in shock. “What?!” you spluttered, while Remy just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“See, even Jubilee agrees,” he teased, leaning in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady.

You pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest. “In your dreams, Lebeau.”

“Maybe so, but y’know, dreams do come true sometimes,” he murmured, that infuriating grin still firmly in place. You wished you could wipe it off his face—preferably with your fist, but you knew that would probably just make him laugh harder.

Jubilee just rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your continued denial. “Whatever, keep denying it. But everyone knows you’re totally into each other.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Because the truth was, part of you already knew she was right. You’d been fighting it for years, but deep down, you couldn’t deny it any longer: you were falling for Remy LeBeau, and that scared you more than any mission or enemy ever could.

But if you were falling, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him know that. Not yet, anyway.

“Everyone’s wrong,” you snapped, but the words felt hollow even to you.

Remy just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see ‘bout that, chérie.”

As Jubilee left the kitchen, you found yourself alone with him again, and for once, the silence was more uncomfortable than the arguing. You could feel his gaze on you, and it made your skin tingle in a way that was more than just irritation. “No we won’t,” You said simply, turning on your heel and walking out.

The next morning, you were in the Danger Room, running through a solo training session. You needed to clear your head, to burn off the frustration that had been gnawing at you ever since that conversation with Remy. But as you moved through the simulation, dodging holographic enemies and firing off energy blasts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

“Y’know, chérie, y’coulda asked me t’ join,” a familiar voice drawled from the observation deck.

You gritted your teeth, not even pausing as you executed a perfect roundhouse kick to one of the holograms. “I don’t need your help, Remy,” you replied, your voice clipped.

“Didn’t say y’ did. Just thought y’ might enjoy some company,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, I don’t,” you snapped, launching another energy blast that obliterated a row of targets. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped watching me.”

“Can’t help it, chérie. Y’ too fascinatin’ t’ ignore.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you muttered under your breath, but your focus slipped for just a second, and one of the holograms managed to get a hit in, knocking you off balance.

Before you could recover, Remy was beside you, his staff spinning in a blur as he took out the remaining enemies. “Y’ gotta keep your guard up, ma chère. Otherwise, y’ might get hurt.”

You pushed yourself to your feet, glaring at him. “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure y’ did,” he said, that damn smirk still on his face. “But it doesn’t hurt t’ have a lil’ backup.”

“I don’t need backup,” you snapped, brushing past him. “And I don’t need you butting in every time you think I’m struggling.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout strugglin’?” Remy asked, following you as you stormed out of the Danger Room. “Just tryin’ t’ help.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” you shot back, rounding on him. “You’re just... you’re just being annoying!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “Annoyin’, huh? That’s a new one.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, annoying. You’re always there, always making these stupid comments, always... just always in my space!”

His grin widened. “Y’ don’t like me in your space, chérie?”

“No!” you snapped, but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, Remy being close to you made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that made your heart race and your thoughts scatter. And that scared you.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Remy said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that always made your pulse quicken. “’Cause I like bein’ in your space.”

You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you. “Well, I don’t. So back off, Lebeau.”

He didn’t move, just watched you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “Y’ sure ‘bout that, chérie? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like y’ don’t mind it so much.”

Your jaw clenched, and you could feel your temper rising again. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But y’ like a challenge, don’t y’?”

You glared at him, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t a game, Remy. You can’t just... just flirt your way out of everything!”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

You blinked, thrown off by the change in his demeanor. “What?”

“Maybe I’m just tryin’ t’ get t’ know y’ better, chérie. Maybe I’m tired o’ all the fightin’.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “You’re the one who always starts it!”

“Non, I just finish it,” he corrected, his voice softening. “But maybe it’s time we stop all this fightin’ and start talkin’.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Talking? About what?”

“About us,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Us. You and Remy. It was something you’d never let yourself think about seriously, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t ignore it.

“Remy, I...” You trailed off, unsure of what to say, how to even begin to address the tangled mess of emotions this man stirred up in you.

But before you could figure it out, Remy took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Y’ don’t have t’ say anythin’, chérie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just... think ‘bout it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender, so unlike the usual banter between you, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll be waitin’,” he added, his breath warm against your skin, before he finally stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

As he turned and walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do.

Because as much as you wanted to dismiss Remy’s words, as much as you wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, you couldn’t. Not anymore. Not after he’d so easily slipped past the walls you’d built around your heart.

And that scared you more than anything else.

The next few days were a blur of awkward encounters and tense silences. You avoided Remy as much as possible, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. No matter where you went, he was there—at breakfast, during training, in the hallways. And every time you saw him, you felt that same confusing mix of anger and something else, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

It was driving you insane.

Finally, after a particularly grueling Danger Room session, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stormed into the rec room, where Remy was lounging on the couch, casually shuffling a deck of cards. He looked up as you entered, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Y’ look like y’ got somethin’ on your mind, chérie,” he said, setting the cards aside.

“You think?” you snapped, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Remy!”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“How so?” you repeated incredulously, stopping to glare at him. “You’re always there, always saying these things, always... just always around! It’s like I can’t get away from you!”

Remy’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t want y’ t’ get away from me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“Y’ heard me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m tired o’ playin’ games. Tired o’ pretendin’ like there ain’t somethin’ real between us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Remy, this is... I don’t even know what this is. We fight all the time. How could that be anything real?”

“’Cause fightin’ is better than nothin’,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’d rather argue with y’ every day than not have y’ in my life at all.”

The sincerity in his voice took your breath away. You’d always thought the arguments were just part of who you and Remy were, but now you were seeing them in a new light. Maybe the fighting wasn’t about hating each other. Maybe it was about caring too much.

But that realization only made things more complicated.

“Remy, I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can just... turn off the way I’ve always felt about you.”

“I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ turn anythin’ off,” he said gently. “Just askin’ y’ t’ let yourself feel whatever it is y’ been fightin’.” You shook your head, not daring to look away from him as he stepped closer to you, a small smirk crossing his face, “I don’t know how to,” You said simply. A laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah y’ do. Y’ know damn well how t’.” His eyes flickered to your lips, a silent ask of permission, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you fully understood. His presence was electric, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he closed the distance between you. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible, and you found yourself caught between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that drew you closer.

There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a crack in the confident facade he usually wore so well. It was as if he was laying himself bare, offering you a glimpse into the parts of him that he kept hidden from everyone else. For once, there was no playful banter, no flirtatious remarks—just the raw, unfiltered truth of what he felt.

“Y’ don’ have t’ figure it all out right now,” Remy continued, his voice low and soothing. “We can take it slow, see where this goes. But I don’ wanna pretend like there’s nothin’ here when I know damn well there is. And I think y’ know it too.” You wanted to look away, to turn and run from the intensity of his gaze, but something kept you rooted in place. The way he was looking at you made it hard to breathe, like he could see right through the walls you’d spent so long building. It wasn’t just the fights or the tension between you; it was the fear of what lay beyond them—the fear of letting yourself feel too much, too deeply. Remy was chaos and comfort all wrapped into one, and admitting what he meant to you felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

You clenched your fists at your sides, the familiar rush of panic creeping in. “Remy, I don’t think you get it,” you said, your voice breaking. “If I admit it—if I admit what I feel—it means I’m giving up control. It means letting go of this idea that I can keep everything in a neat little box and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Your heart pounded as you continued, each word feeling like a risk. “And I’m not used to that. I’m not used to letting someone in, not like this. I’m scared that if I do, it’ll all go wrong. That one day you’ll just—”

“Walk away?” Remy finished softly, his eyes still locked on yours. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, chérie. I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ give up control. I’m just askin’ y’ t’ be honest with me. Honest with yourself.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear. Every instinct told you to protect yourself, to guard your heart like you always had. But the way he was looking at you, the way his touch lingered on your skin—it made you want to believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that caring was a weakness,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That showing you how much I care would give you power over me. And I can’t help but think... if I let myself feel this, it’s just going to hurt.”

Remy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I ain’t here t’ hurt y’,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here ‘cause I care about y’, and I want y’ t’ see that. I want y’ t’ know that all those arguments, all that pushin’ and pullin’—it ain’t ‘cause we hate each other.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. He believed in this—in whatever this was between you—and for the first time, you allowed yourself to consider that maybe, just maybe, it could be real.

Swallowing hard, you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Okay.”

The uncertainty still lingered, but as you stood there, holding onto him, you felt the first stirrings of hope. Maybe fighting wasn’t the opposite of love—maybe it was just another way of holding on when you didn’t know how to let go. And as Remy’s lips finally met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, you realized that some battles were worth fighting after all. As Remy’s lips brushed against yours, it was gentle at first, almost tentative, like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let yourself sink into the kiss, something inside you snapped. All the tension, all the arguments, all the things you’d kept bottled up came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back with a desperation that surprised you both.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. Remy responded in kind, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and you could feel the heat between you building with every passing second. His tongue teased against yours, and you let out a small, involuntary moan that made him grip you even tighter.

“Chérie,” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged with need. “Y’ sure about this?”

You nodded, barely able to find the words. “I need this. I need you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. You let yourself be swept away, losing yourself in the feel of him—his hands on your hips, his mouth trailing heated kisses down your neck, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Remy guided you backward, his hands never leaving your body. You stumbled slightly, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud, and Remy followed, pressing against you with a possessiveness that made your head spin. His mouth moved lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, and you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your breathing became more erratic.

He slid one leg between yours, pressing against you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You arched into him, your hands roaming his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. It wasn’t enough—you needed more, needed to feel his skin against yours, and your fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Remy’s lips quirked into a brief, mischievous smile before he did the same for you, tugging your shirt up and over, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of you. He paused, just for a second, his gaze meeting yours in a silent question, and when you nodded, he wasted no time. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every line, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips.

You shivered under his touch, your own hands exploring the expanse of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach, and the feel of his skin against yours sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore. You tugged him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, and he obliged, pressing against you so that there was no space left between your bodies.

Remy’s mouth found yours again, the kiss hungrier now, and he shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made you gasp. He swallowed the sound, his tongue delving deeper as his hands slid down to your hips, lifting you slightly so that your legs wrapped around his waist. The movement was smooth, almost effortless, and he held you there, pinned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Tell me what y’ want,” he breathed, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, your fingers threading through his hair as you tried to catch your breath. “I want you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “All of you.”

He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes, and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, making you tremble. “Then y’ got me, chérie,” he said, his voice a husky promise against your skin. “Every last bit.”

“Been wantin’ this for a long time,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached up, brushing a hand along his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, the weight of the confession hanging between you. “More than you know.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile before he kissed you again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The rest of the world faded away as you lost yourself in him, in the heat and the urgency and the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Remy’s gaze was heavy, full of promises and unspoken desires as he moved away slightly, his breath warm against your skin. The air between you crackled with anticipation, each second stretching out like an eternity. His fingers traced a line along your side, his touch featherlight, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension building as he let his hand drift lower, skimming over the curve of your waist and dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants.

Every touch felt like a question, a silent plea for permission, and you answered by arching into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders and down the length of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless, and you lost yourself in the taste of him, the way his tongue tangled with yours in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new.

You let your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as you tugged him closer. He responded with a low growl, a sound that sent a rush of heat straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, nipping and kissing along the sensitive skin. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your clothes and pushing them aside as if they were nothing more than an obstacle keeping him from you.

“Y’ such a good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper that made your heart race. His hands were everywhere, exploring, mapping every inch of you like he was committing you to memory, and you reveled in the way his touch set your skin on fire.

You arched beneath him, a moan escaping your lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the press of his body against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only two people in existence.

His hands moved lower, deftly unfastening your jeans and sliding them down your legs with a practiced ease that made your breath hitch. You helped him, kicking them off as he watched, his gaze hungry and appreciative. He made quick work of his own clothes, his movements hurried but careful, as if he couldn’t wait another second to have you but still wanted to savor every moment.

When he finally settled between your thighs, the feel of him grounding you, you let out a shaky breath. Remy paused, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took you by surprise. “We don’t have to rush, y’know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “We got all night.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “But I want to. I want you.”

The words seemed to light something inside him, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all heat and need. Remy pressed closer, his body aligned with yours as he deepened the kiss. The world around you faded into the background as the heat between you intensified. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers dancing along your skin, and a shiver of anticipation coursed through you. Remy’s low groan resonated between you, a sound that sent a rush of heat through your veins, pooling low in your belly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, the flicker of desire mixed with that familiar, playful mischief that always kept you on your toes. It was a look that promised so much more than words ever could, and your heart raced at the thought of what was to come.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, dripping with that smooth Cajun drawl that always made your knees weak. There was a teasing edge to his tone, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched your reaction.

You couldn’t help but smirk back, feeling bold under his intense gaze. “I guess I can’t resist that Cajun charm after all,” you quipped, your breath hitching as his hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His chuckle was deep, resonating from his chest in a way that made your pulse quicken. The sound was warm and intimate, like he was letting you in on a secret only the two of you shared. “Good thing I’ve got plenty to spare,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver straight to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, claiming you in a kiss that was hungrier, more insistent. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, the taste of you driving him wild as his hand slid higher, exploring with a mix of confidence and reverence that made your body arch toward him. He pulled you closer, his tongue sweeping against yours, and you let out a soft whimper that only seemed to spur him on.

His touch was electric, a perfect mix of rough and gentle that had you gasping against his mouth. When his hand finally reached its destination, you could feel the heat of his palm pressing against your most sensitive spot, and you shuddered at the contact, a breathy curse escaping his lips against your mouth. The sound of it—the raw need in his voice—sent a thrill through you, and you knew just how much he wanted you, how close he was to losing control.

“Mon dieu,” Remy breathed, his accent thickening as his fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing and testing your resolve. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and uneven as he watched your expression shift with each calculated touch. “Y’ feel so good, chérie. Been dreamin’ ‘bout this.”

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the wave of sensation crashing over you. “Keep talking like that,” you managed, your voice trembling with barely restrained desire, “and I might just lose my mind.”

Remy grinned, his thumb circling with maddening precision, coaxing a low moan from your throat. “Well, ain’t that the point?” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand worked skillfully, each movement deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body responded to him. The tension built steadily, your breaths mingling as you both lost yourselves in the rhythm, the dance of push and pull that you’d been perfecting for what felt like forever.

The anticipation was maddening, the way he hovered on the edge, drawing out every little gasp and shiver, every whispered plea that slipped past your lips. He was relentless, his touch both gentle and commanding, as if he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, that the tension might break you, Remy leaned in, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“Tell me what y’ want, chérie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with desire and a hint of challenge. His thumb pressed down just a little harder, and you felt the world tilt, your breath catching in your throat. “I wanna hear y’ say it.”

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with want as you finally gave in, letting the last of your restraint slip away. “I want you, Remy,” you confessed, your voice raw and unguarded. “I want everything.”

His response was immediate, a soft groan escaping him as he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, the full weight of his need crashing into you like a tidal wave. And in that moment, with his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony, you knew you were lost to him, lost to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together time and time again. You weren’t fighting anymore; you were falling—fast and hard—and this time, you didn’t want to stop.

With a surge of boldness, you let one hand drift down his chest, tracing the lines of his toned abdomen before reaching lower. You felt him tense at your touch, and he broke the kiss with a moan.

You melted into his touch as his fingers explored every inch of your heat, teasing and tantalizing until you were dripping with need. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure consumed your senses.

Needing more than just his touch on the outside of your panties separating him from where he longed to be; Remy’s fingers slipped past the fabric effortlessly; sending shivers coursing through your body. He growled at the feel of how wet and ready you were for him. His thumb found its way to your clit circling it slowly driving waves after waves of ecstasy. In between moans, you managed to slide down Remy’s briefs freeing an erection throbbing so hard it wanted nothing more than bury itself within your warmth without any other obstacles.

His fingers kept their steady rhythm inside of you bringing you closer to the edge with every passing second, each deliberate thrust like a promise of what was yet to come.

With a gasp that turned into a low moan, you tightened around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. He watched every blissful moment, his eyes full of admiration and lust; before he withdrew his hand and placed it behind one of your thighs lifting it slightly in a silent request, “Good girl,” He whispered, his forehead resting on your own. You gladly obliged, wrapping your leg around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer.

Remy positioned himself at your entrance, his tip teasingly grazing your folds. He locked eyes with you, seeking permission, and you nodded, desperate for him to fill the ache inside of you. With agonizing slowness, he pushed forward, inch by glorious inch, until he was buried deep within your heat. A symphony of sighs and groans spilled from both of your lips as he stretched you deliciously.

“Fuck,” Remy muttered through gritted teeth. “Y’ feel s’ good.”

You echoed his sentiment with a breathy moan as he began to move. Each thrust was a perfect blend of passion and restraint, hitting all the right spots and driving you higher with every stroke. The world around you faded away until it was just the two of you, lost in the rhythm of each other’s bodies.

His hips rocked against yours in a deliciously torturous tempo that had your head spinning. He held onto your hip tightly guiding himself deeper. Without warning, you moved one of your hands, moving its way up and down his chest until it reached its final goal. Softly grasping one nipple between thumb and index finger before applying more pressure, tugging it as you felt another low growl rumble through his chest.

“Merde,” he hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration lacing his voice.

Feeling the effect you had on him only spurred you on, and your hand trailed lower, gripping his ass tightly and pulling him impossibly closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the air along with your combined moans, driving the passion between you to new heights.

Beads of sweat rolled down your bodies as the temperature rose with every stroke. Your senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the delicious friction that threatened to send you both hurtling over the edge.

Then, with a primal groan that could have set fire to a room, Remy came undone; his whole body trembling as he spilled himself inside of you. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he rode out his release; whispering incoherent words in French that made heat pool between your thighs. His orgasm triggered yours too, waves after waves crashing through your body leaving in their wake nothing but pure bliss.

You clung to each other as reality slowly seeped back in, your breaths ragged and hearts pounding. Remy pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, struggling slightly to maintain balance but never separating from within. He eventually pulled out, cupping your face gently and capturing your lips in a tender kiss full of unspoken promises.

Remy gently placed you down, a soft exhale escaping your lips. Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of what had just transpired, a mix of lingering heat and a deep, unexpected tenderness that left you feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable. You watched as Remy reached for the clothes you passed to him, a simple gesture that felt strangely intimate—more so than anything else that had just happened between you.

There was a flutter in your chest, a complicated tangle of emotions that you couldn't quite sort through: the satisfaction of closeness, the warmth of his touch, but also the creeping uncertainty that always seemed to follow moments like this. You wanted to savor the way his fingers brushed against yours when he took the clothes, the unspoken connection that made your pulse quicken despite the calming aftermath. But beneath that was the faint whisper of doubt, the question of what this all meant, and where it would leave the both of you when the morning came.

You studied Remy as he pulled on his shirt, his movements unhurried and almost thoughtful, as if he was taking his time not just with the task but with the moment itself. He glanced up at you, catching your eye with that familiar, roguish smile that always seemed to know more than it let on. It was a smile that made your heart skip a beat, because it was impossible not to be drawn in by it—by him. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, if his mind was as clouded with thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'where do we go from heres.'

The air between you was charged with unspoken words, the room thick with the weight of shared breaths and the faint scent of him lingering on your skin. There was a comfort in it, an aching sweetness in the quiet that stretched between you, but also a nagging fear of missteps and misunderstandings that seemed to lurk just outside the glow of the moment. You found yourself caught in the delicate balance between wanting to keep things light, easy, as they'd always been, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and make this real, to solidify the intangible connection that pulsed between you.

As Remy pulled on his pants, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze softened when it landed on you, a subtle shift that made your breath hitch. It was as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built, right into the heart of your hesitation and hope. It unnerved you how easily he seemed to read you, how effortlessly he could make you feel seen without even trying. And maybe that was the scariest part of all—how much you wanted to be seen, to be known, even when it felt risky, even when it meant opening up to the possibility of more.

You pulled your own clothes closer, the fabric cool against your still-warm skin, and took a moment to steady your breathing. The urge to say something—anything—bubbled up inside you, but the words seemed to tangle on your tongue. What do you say when everything feels like it's teetering on the edge of changing forever? When you're caught between the safety of what you know and the terrifying promise of what could be?

Remy caught the hesitation in your eyes and paused, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Y’ good, chérie?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the playful banter you were used to; it was sincere, almost vulnerable, like he was reaching out to you in a way that went beyond words.

You nodded, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. Your feelings for him were a messy, beautiful tangle of affection and desire, friendship and something more profound that you were still too scared to name. It was overwhelming, this rush of emotions that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. But as you looked into Remy’s eyes, that familiar spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to take the leap.

"Well, someone looks pretty pleased with himself," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Remy chuckled, turning to face you with that infuriatingly charming smile. "Can’t help it, chérie. I aim t' please, and from th’ look on y’ face, I’d say I hit th’ mark."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, Lebeau."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Naw, chérie, m’ ego’s jus’ fine right where it is." His hand drifted lazily to trace patterns on your arm, his touch light and absent-minded. "’Sides, y’ didn’t seem t’ mind a bit of that charm earlier."

“Don’t push it,” you warned playfully, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

“Too late,” he quipped, his grin widening. “Y’ already all tangled up in it.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling up as you pulled your jumper on, "I can’t believe I put up with you," you sighed dramatically.

Remy’s laughter rumbled through him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “’Cause y’ love m’ charm, chérie. An’ y’ love me, too, even when y’ won’t admit it.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "You know, you’re lucky you’re good at this, otherwise you’d be out of here so fast."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Lucky f’ both of us, then."

You swatted at him, but your laughter spilled over, mingling with his. It was moments like these—caught between playfulness and something deeper—that made everything else feel worth it.

[tea-biscuits-books]

bed chem

kwon jae sung x reader

🥋🎬💮📞🗝️

summary: after you and kwon tie when trying to kick higher at the aquarium, you're forced to share a room

word count: 1.8k

whose the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?

song: bed chem - sabrina carpenter

🥋🎬💮📞🗝️

“and smile” your cheeks ache as you attempt to keep the corners of your mouth lifted, posing against robby, the other captain of miyagi do. the sekai taikai was a prestigious world championship where only the dojos of highest talent, skill and agility were able to compete, fighting for the chance for their name to be plastered with honour as the #1. the camera clicked as your shoulders sag with relief, the smile dropping off your face immediately. 

“and one more” the photographer murmured.

“or not” he mumbles as Tory stalks away, the serpent logo prominent on her back. Cobra Kai. the words felt bitter in your mind, slimy and sour. they brought back memories that you often tried to bury within the depths of your mind, pained and broken memories, reflecting a person you were proud you weren’t anymore. your gaze traces her retreating figure, until they linger on her team. and their other captain. his dark hair that is free but styled aloofly, giving him a mischievous sort of charm, sits upon his headband, bearing the crest of a leader. you let your eyes wander his well built figure and tailored gi, until finally they land on his face. his lips that look pillowy and soft, and cheekbones that highlight the crevices of his face, until you’re met with his eyes. that are staring straight into yours. they’re dark and not soulless but have a sort of emptiness to them, danger and curiousity are evident as he studies you. you feel his gaze, hot and heavy, tracing the curves of your own gi, and the hair that flows of your shoulders in carefree waves. his eyes snap away, and you feel the pink in your cheeks dwindle away as you realise that you both had been openly ogling at each other. you can sense it, his lips curling up into a smirk as if he had won some sick little mindgame. you let your mind drift, walking back to where the rest of your team stayed huddled, letting Miguel ruffle your hair in a brotherly way. Sam begins to whisper to you, but you feel it. his stare, on your back, probably on the bonsai that bares the crest of his enemy, his opponent, his rival. so why was he so interested? you turn to the group of contestants suddenly tuning into what was going on. a challenge. you stare at the dolphin, marking the line with your eyes, calculating the height and judging the kick you would need to make. hawk steps forward, smirking as he takes in the cobra kai. 

“we’ll do it. but if we win, we want your room.” the other guy seems to size hawk up. 

“deal.” you tug hawk back into the group you and the other miyagi dos had formed. 

“hawk?! what the fuck?!” hawk rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. the Korean boy jeers, the crowd joining in with him. 

“are you americans gonna back out? that’s what you always are, cowards,” he sneers, his accent thick. your brow furrows as you take on a defensive stance. 

“the only things good about you are the pretty girls.” his eyes land on you and you feel your body tense. 

“don’t talk about y/n” Robby scoffs.

“y/n huh? pretty name for a pretty girl,” despite yourself, the words elicit a tumbling stomach of butterflies, hearing your name roll of his toungue like butter. Robby clenches his fists stepping forward. you watch as he performs a powerful double-legged kick, marking above the line by quite a bit. but you know it isn’t his best, but still you cheer and clap for him. it’s silent, as the opponent looks at the chalk, whistling slowly under his breath.

“good americans. just not good enough,” a slow chant begins to build.

“Kwon! Kwon! Kwon!” Kwon. that was his name. you supposed it suited him, watching as he circles it predatorily, feeling the support feed his probably inflated ego already. there is a blur of gi and movement, and suddenly there is a new line, and you sigh in disappointment because it is clearly inches higher than Robby’s. Kwon saunters over, holding out his hand, before you block him. 

“let me try.” kwon scrutinises you for a minute looking at your determined face and a smirk curves at his lips, one you take note that is often present on his mouth. he simply nods in reply. you take a deep breath, before taking a few steps back c providing yourself with a running start. 

“AIS!” you shout, jumping and drawing a harsh line on the dolphin with your foot. you look up as murmurs begin to arise. your line was identical to kwon’s, and the space between then sort of blurred.

“I would say that’s a tie.” Hawk’s voice rang out. you expect kwon’s face to be in a scowl as you shift your focus to him, but instead his expression is smug, and…proud? 

“well then, I guess we share the room.”

“wait what?” your voice was loud as everybody seems to nod in agreement. you catch onto Sam’s arm as she turns to leave. 

“Sam?! what-“ your so called best friend gives you a helpless shrug.

“I’m sorry y/n, I don’t want to cause any more problems with Cobra Kai.” you scoff as she shoots you a cheeky wink.

“i’m sorry…” quickly, she darts away, leaving you alone with kwon, who you are intent on avoiding his eye. his teasing tone sends shivers down your spine. 

“c’mon princess, let’s go get your bags.”

as you swing open the room door, you’re greeted with a shirtless kwon who lays lazily on the bed, opening an eye at your arrival. his bare torso sends blood straight to your face, as you splutter a greeting. 

“put on a shirt will you?” kwon lets out a rich, deep chuckle raising a challenging eyebrow at your flushed figure.

“what, can’t handle this?” you roll your eyes, dumping your bags down as he gestures to his chiseled chest, the muscles contracting and expanding with each breath. 

“you’re too egotistic for your own good,”

“and you’re more beautiful than you realise” the retort slips off his lips, flirty and charming, as he rolls over on the double bed in the centre of the room. the realisation sets in. you were sharing a bed. kwon smirks at your lack of response. a smile finds it way to your face as you sit on the bed, studying him. 

“what are you playing at?” the dark-haired boy’s face adapts into an innocent expression. 

“nothing.” you narrow your eyes, watching as kwon smirks.

“i’m going to take a shower,” he stands, collecting his clothes and towel slowly, as if teasing you, tempting you. 

“you’re welcome to join if you want,” he winks at you, leaving you a stuttering mess as you hear the water turn on. leaning back into the cool of the bed sheets you bury your head into the pillow, letting out a frustrated scream before grabbing your phone and dialing a number.

the shower steam billows out of the door, the glass and mirror fogged up as kwon emerges, towel wrapped around his waist. you can’t help but stare. his tanned abs glisten with moisture, and a toned v-line leads down and disappears under the towel, letting you use your imagination. his hair has strands astray and drips onto the carpeted floor, and leaves a small trail where he walks. kwon feels your stare, and gives it right back. you had changed into pyjamas while he was gone, tiny pink silk shorts that curved with your ass and wore a thin white singlet that didn’t leave much to the imagination, showcasing your round tits behind the cotton. There’s a thick silence that surrounds the room, tension pulsating within it, an alluring sort of tension that makes you want to pull him close. but you don’t. you restrain yourself. because no matter how attractive he is, kwon is still cobra kai. The very dojo that made your life hell. You clear your throat, and kwon regards with an amused smile that he hopes covers the blush on his cheeks, the obstruction in the middle of the bed.

“and what is this?” you point at the barrier of pillows you had constructed.

“this is a pillow wall. we each have our side.” you smirk triumphantly. kwon groans.

“fine. have it your way american.” you turn around, settling into your side, and feeling the mattress dip as kwon lays down, clearly still sulking about the separation.

“goodnight kwon,” you say. there’s a pause, almost as if he is tossing up between replying.

“goodnight princess.”

you wake up to the murmuring of kwon beside you, his eyes squeezed shut and sweat beads upon his forehead. he whimpers and rocks against the pillow, his moans of pain echoing into the night sky. the realisation is cold as you begin to shake him. kwon is having a nightmare, a situation you are far too familiar with. 

“kwon,” you shake his sleeping body, feeling his body tense but then relax into your hold. his eyes flutter open, meeting yours. an emotion passes through them, something you’d never thought you would see in his eyes. fear. 

“you were having a nightmare,” you say quietly. the warmth radiates from his chest as you subconsciously lean into it. you settled into silence, before starting to shuffle away as kwon offers no response. you freeze as you feel a hand grip around your wrist, pulling you into his chest, a position far too intimate but it felt so right.

“in my dojang we are taught to not show mercy. to not feel anything. to not show weakness.” he rubs his thumb against your hand. 

“how do they teach that?” kwon faces you, your question lingering in the air between you. 

“they make it so we can’t feel anything.” and slowly, he raises his fringe, showing you a scar that lines his upper right forehead. you take his head within your hands, gasping silently.

“how did you-“

“I was 12 when I received this.” his voice is hushed.

“it was by my sensei. he beat me with a cane until I could no longer stand.” he shuddered, as your face falls. 

“why?”

“because I was not perfect.” your breath is on his face, soft and hot, as your eyes search his. vulnerability. that’s what you find. it’s bored heavy on you, tired and sad as he stares up into your face. 

“I get nightmares about it sometimes.” you watch as he swipes his hair over it, covering the scar once more. he holds you in his arms, feeling the way you slot into him. you offer an ear to listen to his problems, to his struggles. it felt nice. he watches as your eyes droop and your mouth stretches into a yawn. you know this is wrong. but you can’t help it. 

“tired?” you nod slowly, your mind threatening to take you into slumber. Kwon smiles, before leaning in and brushing his lips against yours. It shouldn’t have the effect it does, its a graze to your mouth, a passing touch but your body shudders against his skin. kwon grins as red flames your cheeks. 

“goodnight princess,”

“goodnight kwon.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hey there! Just found your profile and I really love your content, and since I saw your requests were always open, what about a Deadpool x Fem!Reader were their first encounter is during one of Deadpool's battles, and once the reader takes up an offer of rooming she saw on the newspaper, she finds out she's roommates with him now and has to put up with his antics? I noticed the CRIMINAL lack of Deadpool fanfic and it hurts😭🙏

Unexpected Roommates

The sound of gunfire echoed through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable crash of metal hitting concrete. You peered cautiously around the corner, heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding before you.

There, in the midst of the wreckage, stood a man in a red-and-black suit, dual katanas in hand, surrounded by a small army of mercenaries. It was like something straight out of a comic book, except it was happening right in front of you, in the gritty underbelly of the city.

“Alright, who’s next?” the man—Deadpool, you realized with a start—quipped, twirling one of his swords with a flourish as he eyed the remaining thugs. Despite the danger, there was an almost playful air about him, like this was just another day at the office.

You had only heard of Deadpool in passing—rumors about a mercenary who was as unpredictable as he was deadly—but seeing him in action was something else entirely. And yet, despite the absurdity of the situation, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

One of the mercenaries lunged at him, but Deadpool was faster, sidestepping the attack with ease before dispatching his opponent with a quick flick of his wrist. Blood splattered across the alley, and you winced, pressing yourself against the wall to stay out of sight.

Unfortunately, your attempt at stealth was in vain. The last of the mercenaries fell, and Deadpool, now apparently free of distractions, turned his attention to you. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, sheathing his swords as he sauntered over, “what do we have here? A damsel in distress? Or just an innocent bystander with a bad sense of timing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, his masked face tilting slightly as he examined you. Up close, he was even more intimidating—taller than you expected, with an energy that crackled in the air around him.

“Uh… neither?” you finally managed, your voice a little shaky. You cleared your throat, trying to muster some semblance of composure. “I was just… passing through.”

“Passing through, huh?” Deadpool echoed, leaning in slightly. “Interesting place for a midnight stroll, but who am I to judge? I mean, it’s not like *I* ever do anything reckless.” He straightened up, giving you a mock salute. “Well, don’t let me keep you. But if you ever find yourself in need of a charming, devilishly handsome mercenary, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he spun on his heel and started walking away, whistling a jaunty tune as if he hadn’t just left a pile of bodies in his wake.

Shaking off the encounter, you quickly decided it was time to get the hell out of there. You took one last glance at Deadpool’s retreating figure before ducking out of the alley, eager to put as much distance between you and whatever mess you had just stumbled into.

A few days later, you found yourself standing outside a dingy apartment building, clutching a newspaper ad in your hand. The headline read, “Roommate Wanted: Cheap Rent, Great Location, No Serial Killers (Probably).”

It was, admittedly, not the most reassuring advertisement, but you were desperate. Between the sky-high rent prices and your recent run of bad luck, you couldn’t afford to be picky. Plus, you figured it couldn’t be worse than your last living situation.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and made your way up the narrow staircase, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. You reached the door marked “6B” and hesitated for a moment before knocking.

The door swung open almost immediately, and you were greeted by the sight of the same red-and-black suit you had seen in the alley. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Midnight Stroll!” Deadpool exclaimed, his voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon. Or, you know, ever.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “*You* put out the ad?”

He grinned—or at least you assumed he did, given the way his mask crinkled around the eyes. “Guilty as charged. Didn’t think I’d find a roommate this fast, but hey, the universe works in mysterious ways. Come on in, make yourself at home!”

You stood frozen in the doorway, struggling to process the absurdity of the situation. “You’re Deadpool,” you finally blurted out, stating the obvious.

“The one and only!” he replied, stepping aside to let you in. “But you can call me Wade. Or Deadpool. Or hey, Roomie! I’m not picky.”

Part of you wanted to turn around and run, but the more practical side of you— the one that knew how hard it was to find affordable rent—reluctantly stepped inside. The apartment was a bit of a mess, cluttered with weapons, comic books, and various other oddities, but it was surprisingly homey.

“So,” Wade said, closing the door behind you, “what do you think? It’s got charm, right? Or, at the very least, it’s got four walls and a roof, which is really all you need.”

You glanced around, taking in the chaotic but oddly inviting space. “It’s… something,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re the one who put out the ad.”

“Why, because I’m a world-famous mercenary with a questionable moral compass and a penchant for breaking the fourth wall?” he quipped, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, well, turns out even world-famous mercenaries need someone to split the bills with. Plus, the last roommate bailed after, like, a week. Something about too many explosions and not enough peace and quiet.”

“Shocking,” you muttered under your breath, but Wade caught it and laughed.

“Hey, I can be a great roommate when I want to be!” he said, holding up three fingers like he was making a pledge. “I’m clean, I’m considerate, and I almost never bring work home. Unless, of course, it’s convenient. Or funny.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the absurdity of the situation starting to wear down your initial reservations. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” you said, shaking your head.

Wade leaned forward, his tone suddenly serious. “Look, I know I’m not exactly a normal roommate, but I can promise you this: I’ll always have your back. Plus, if anyone tries to mess with you, they’ll have to answer to me. And trust me, they don’t want that.”

It was strange, but there was something oddly reassuring about the way he said it, like beneath all the jokes and bravado, there was a real person who genuinely cared.

“Okay,” you said finally, the decision made. “I’ll give it a shot. But no explosions inside the apartment.”

Wade’s eyes crinkled again as he gave you a thumbs-up. “Deal! Welcome to the madness, Roomie. I have a feeling this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked around your new home, your mind already spinning with the possibilities of what living with Deadpool might entail. It was going to be wild, unpredictable, and probably more than a little dangerous.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Vanity Fair

Plot: Vanity Fair returns again to shoot for the upcoming Mandalorian film

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Paul Mescal x Reader, Pedro Pascal x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: sweet "father-daughter" moments, laughter&giggles, just general fluff, reader is a badass

—————

It’s always a joy to fly out to California for a photo shoot in which you were dying to be involved. You were excited to receive news from your team of another cover shoot for Vanity Fair for the Mandalorian and Grogu with the amazing Annie Leibovitz who did the cover shoot for the Star Wars series in 2022 when you wrapped season three. 

Paul with a clear schedule from productions was working on tagged along with his words, “I get to see my girlfriend and Pedro in action and be on vacation sign me up.”

After a flight and a long sleep at the hotel, you were up and at it earlier at the studio, trapped in hair and makeup. Paul was easily handled by Pedro, who showed up with a later call time and minimal work done in the makeup trailer. Paul looks in wonder at the large virtual soundstage, and it looks like they are on another planet.

“This is insane man,” Paul breathes out spinning in a circle, any kid would freak out thinking they were on a real planet. Pedro laughs as Coco tweaks some stray hairs as the Mandalorian helmet rests on his hip.

“That’s how I felt when I first got on set it’s otherworldy with the build sets then adding this changes the whole environment,” Pedro explains and Paul nods.

“Home sweet home,” You hum strolling onto the set. Paul has to do a double take and Pedro lets out a loud whistle.

“Loving the new hairdo,” Pedro says as you mock gasp pointing at your new short wig. Your hair barely touched your chin in a shag style a big difference from your natural hair and from what he’s seen of the show your character’s.

“This ol’ thing. I originally was gonna cut it short but with Where the Wild Things Are better just to use a wig.” You say and smile up a Paul, “Like the new look?”

You felt so comfortable in your new costume for this film, you loved all of your season’s looks especially season three with your cloak and so glad it continued with this piece. You wore dark pants with padding at the knees, grey boots that stopped right before your knee, a long-sleeved off-white shirt with paneling all down the chest, and sleeves that ombre to a dirty grey, and your favorite part the long tattered brown cloak that comes with a hood. In tune with your character a holster around your belt and hip for your blaster and vibro-knife, plus the buckle where your saber hilt rests.

“Very cool looking and comfortable,” He hums feeling the fabric of your cloak, and you sway allowing the fabric to swoosh around you.

“I got my cloaks and you got your skirts.” You tease at his costuming for his project and he huffs out a laugh.

You and Pedro are called to your places getting a decent view of Paul who stands beside Coco and your hairstylist as you’re guided by Annie to pose. 

“It’s a bit weird knowing you’re under there,” You comment to Pedro who stands beside you as the crew tweaks a few lights, “I’m so used to Brendan or Lateef here.”

You hear the muffled chuckle from him underneath the helmet.

“They should’ve photoshopped my face onto them for this. I could’ve been home sleeping.” He says and you scoff shoving his shoulder making him only laugh louder.

They have this huge wind machine that has your cloak blowing in the breeze and Pedro’s smaller one too. It’s a lot of broody looks with the two of you standing further apart, representing the distance between you. They move to solo shots starting with Pedro as your stylist tweaks strands of hair and powders your face as they replace your hilt for the full LED saber.

“Sick huh,” You smirk at Paul who looks over the detailing in the hilt to the exposed channel that holds the kyber crystal.

“Can you still handle that thing?” He teases and you give him a betrayed look and you hear Coco stifle back a laugh.

“How dare you—” Before you can go off on him you’re called on to replace Pedro who is taking off the helmet coming over.

Pedro gives Coco and Paul a confused look at the determined look on your face as you pass, “What’s up with her?”

“Paul questioned if she can still handle the lightsaber,” Coco says and Pedro gives Paul a shocked look as if the question was aimed at him.

“You know she’s got like five years of training with that thing, it’s practically muscle memory now?” Pedro says as the three of them watch you stand on the sand soundstage posing a glint in your eyes. Pedro elbows Paul in the side, “You’re gonna get it now.”

“Alright can we get a little action from you for both video and photo,” Annie says as the other camera person gets another angle.

“Whatever I want?” You ask and Paul should have noticed the hole he dug himself in. You were about to flame his ass from his comment.

“Your comfort level,” Annie says and you give a slight nod twisting your wrist to twirl the saber lightly. Tracing your foot along the sand to get a solid footing before doing a simple sequence you’ve been honing for a while, especially in this costume piece. You twirl the saber around your body seamlessly to others at a jaw-dropping place, you drag your foot through the sand kicking it up slightly as you start your rotation with your back toward the camera as you let go of the saber a skill you’ve been practicing for months.

Practically half of the crew’s jaws drop including Paul as the blade flips and twirls freely in the air behind your back as you complete your rotation catching it in your non-dominant hand before slicing at the camera. It’s quiet for a bit before someone starts clapping and you smile giving a bit of a dramatic bow catching Paul’s gaze a smug look on your face. Your face screams ‘How’s that for handling it?’

“I think we’re good on those shots and a riveting performance,” Annie says and you smile walking off the set with a bounce in your step. The crew changes the set around as you return the stunt saber to the weapons handler.

Pedro claps you on the shoulder, “Very impressive chiquita?”

“How the hell?” Paul breathes out and you shrug acting all innocent.

“That? Just a little something on the fly,” you shrug, coming over, “Maybe not question someone who has been in color guard since the sixth grade, where these skills are a cakewalk.” You press a kiss to his cheek before heading off to change into your next costume. Paul watches you walk away, talking casually to your stylist, and he can feel gazes on him, seeing both Pedro and Coco giving him knowing looks.

“Damn, she’s got you whipped,” Paul’s face flushes red as Pedro let out a full-body laugh and Coco has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

The rest of the shoot was so much fun especially when the Grogu puppet was brought on set to get ‘family’ portraits done. It was always fun being with Pedro, but the two of you were never able to act seriously on set. After a few hours, you wrapped heading back to the makeup trailer to return to normal.

“Ugh, my hair was screaming to be freed,” You say massaging your scalp as you walk up to Paul who is waiting at a crafty table. He smirks seeing your very casual attire, your hair out from under all the pins and wig caps a bit messy in some jeans and one of his graphic tees.

“You always gonna steal my shirts,” He pulls at the hem of his shirt and you grin up at him.

“They are so comfy and better than mine,” You comment and he rolls his eyes while taking your hand as you head to the car.

“Pedro invited us out to dinner tonight,” He brings up and you hum letting your hands swing as you walk. It’s silent between you two until he looks down at you, “Should I be scared of your quietness?”

You just hum and he can see a teasing glint in your eyes, “Oh nothing just thinking that if Tiya and Lucius were in a fight I would whoop your ass.” That has Paul laughing.

“I love you but I highly doubt you would beat Lucius.” He comments.

“I’m a jedi!” You retort and he shakes his head,

“Even without the force, she’s facing a twenty-four gladiator and your character is what eighteen?” Paul laughs the competitiveness in him coming out a bit, “Lucius would destroy you.”

“In this film, she’s twenty-one so it’s only three years difference, and even without the force Tiya has better swordsman skills than Lucius,” You point out before whipping out your phone, “Nah I need a fucking poll cause I know she would whoop his ass, hell everyone in that film. If you had her in Gladiator that film would’ve been over in seconds.” Paul laughs as you speedily type up a poll before posting it on your Instagram.

“They are probably gonna say you 'cause they love you more,” Paul comments opening the car door for you before coming around the other side.

“No, I told them to think fairly, a fight on strength and skill no powers from Tiya.” You comment already seeing the polls shifting between the two some defending Tiya and other Lucius. “I think if either of our characters got into a fight that didn’t end in blood Tiya would probably find Lucius intriguing.” Your comment has Paul smirking as he reverses out of the parking spot.

“A jedi with a gladiator how scandalous,” He grins and you giggle.

“I mean she likes her men that can fight so most likely but Lucius is too devout for his wife to think of other women,” Your comments make him groan slightly cursing his character.

“Well I hope Lucius heals to allow him to pursue other women cause Tiya would be right up his alley,” The car gets at a red light and he turns to face you leaning closer, “Good with a sword, strong, deadly…beautiful.”

You lean in over the center console as his eyes dart quickly at your lips before making eye contact. A tension holds between you just a breath away.

Your hum sweetly makes his gaze darken, “The light’s green.” The car honks behind him has him grumbling under his breath as he focuses on the road. You laugh leaning over and pressing a kiss to his jawline.

“Let’s get home huh, gladiator?”

“Whatever you want, jedi.”

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Forgotten and the Remembered

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, amnesia, the usual monsters, angst ofc, the biggest warning is that this isn't proof-read bc if I didn't release this soon then I was gonna start tweaking

[A/N: Writer's block is currently kicking my ass but I REFUSE to be beaten!! Posting at 3am!! No one can stop me!!]

The Forgotten and the Remembered

“Can I be the first to say that I seriously hate this apocalypse?”

Eddie shoves the dead demodog off of his torso with a groan, a small and grateful nod directed to Steve for killing it before he was literally dog meat.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re the first.” Steve says, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Ugh, we can braid each other’s hair later, let’s get moving.”

Excluding Billy’s childish remark, Steve had to agree with his urgency; it was getting pretty dark already and if they didn’t speed up their footsteps, they would never make it to the Radio Shack.

The mission was as simple as it could be, drawn out on an out-of-date map with no contingency plans if it all went wrong. Which, as Steve goes over it all in his head, was a terrible mistake. When has anything ever gone smoothly for him?

They needed to get to the Radio Shack for nightfall, grab a spare walkie and contact their respective groups to alert their survival. Steve wondered if they'd be happy to hear his voice. After all, his absence was probably a relief considering how suffocating he had been lately.

Next, they were to trail around the outskirts of the centre, hopefully avoiding bigger hives of monsters on the streets. Eddie stated that getting to the edge of the mall was vital to the final part of the plan.

And, finally, the crucial part: Eddie will guide them to the delivery bay and lead them straight to the supplies. In and out. It should be simple.

If they even made it there, that is.

“I still don’t get why you don’t just leave, man.” Eddie reiterates for the thousandth time since leaving the camp. Steve’s head was starting to ache with the constant pestering.

“Because we can’t.” Steve sighs, rubbing his temple. Up ahead, he caught the subtle shake of Billy’s shoulders, indicating that he was very much amused with Steve’s distress.

Asshole, Steve thinks as he rolls his shoulder. The last demodog attack forced his swing too hard, leaving a dull ache that did not help his discomfort at all. No sleep, migraines, and now a bruised shoulder. It wasn’t his day, that’s for sure.

“But you have the perfect opportunity-”

“Can we talk about something else?” Steve suddenly snaps, not in any malicious intent but it came out more stressed than he wanted. “Please.”

Eddie sounds a low whistle, widening his eyes. “Sure, man, my bad.”

“Thank you.”

To the joy of his thrumming headache, Eddie was quiet after that. Rather than speak, he quietly kicked around a small stone, sometimes humming a strange tune. Steve felt a little guilty, but maybe silence was what they needed right now.

It didn’t last as long as he hoped.

“Who else is here?” Eddie questions just as they pass the abandoned Steelworks building. Steve always found the place to be a little creepy.

“Like our group?”

“Yeah. I realised I never asked and I think it would be nice to know who I’m risking my life for.”

“Well, there’s us, obviously.” He runs a hand through his hair, spotting the old inn in the distance. They were getting closer. “Then there’s a bunch of kids. Six of ‘em. And a girl from high school. Nancy’s there, too.”

“She the one dating the Byers’ kid now?” Eddie asks innocently enough, assessing Steve’s reaction. “Is he there too?”

“Uh…”

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him.

In his silence, Billy throws a look over his shoulder and clears his throat.

“Not anymore.” He says, and Steve swallows the thick lump in his throat. Eddie merely nods, choosing not to pester further.

“No. No, his, uh, his mom is, though. And his brother.” He nods himself back into the confidence to have this conversation, smiling to hide his hurt. “There’s a fair amount of us, I guess. Hopper takes care of them, though. Kinda his thing.”

"Hopper? As in Chief Hopper?"

"The very same."

His eyes flicker with distaste. Steve can only assume Eddie and the chief hadn’t gotten along over the past few years, especially with the whole drug-dealing career Eddie found himself in. 

"Who, uh, who else is with you guys?"

"No, that's pretty much it." Steve frowns at the way Eddie's usually animated features suddenly drop, clearing his throat. "Why? Are you also looking for someone?"

"Uh, no, nothing like that- Wait… also?" Eddie's eyes narrow when he pulls Steve to a stop, leaning in so Billy doesn't overhear them. "I'm sorry, are you telling me that you've dragged me out here because you're looking for someone? What happened to the whole 'we're dying and need help' situation?!"

"Okay, firstly," Steve yanks his arm back, a small mumble of an apology flowing from Eddie's lips in return, "I'm not technically telling you anything, but yes. I- we are looking for someone. And secondly- dos -  we do need supplies. Without them, we can't find the person we're looking for. Now you might be upset with me for that but I didn't ask you to come out here. You led us all on your own, so maybe you should be thinking about why you seem so desperate to get away from that camp instead of blaming me for it."

Steve clears his throat, taken aback by his own words.

A small exhale of breath escapes Eddie's lungs, his mouth snapping shut. He wore a look of guilt, one Steve has borrowed and made all throughout his life. For a single moment, a slither of regret binds knots around his stomach. But it merely lasts that, a moment; he doesn't have time to care for others feelings when he still hasn't found you.

“Steve!” Nancy shouts, but what else could he do? He wasn’t fast enough to stop this.

His eyes fly shut once the dagger is closer than comfort, awaiting the painful stretch of metal into his flesh. Unfortunately for someone else, he didn’t have to.

A pained gasp hits the air like a sobering thought, stilling his aching body. It didn’t belong to him. It belonged to Jonathan.

Nancy starts to scream as blood pours from his mouth, his legs losing their power and stumbling him back into a hoard of shapeshifters. Steve watches as they grab at him, pulling at his clothes. They throw a hand over his mouth and drag him away, looking satisfied in their assault.

And there it was again. Even with his shifted morals, the guilt kept returning, embracing him like a mother would their child. Or, at least, he assumes a mother would. His negligence of other people's feelings seem to be almost as identical to that of his parents, and it was far deadlier in this apocalypse.

"Whatever." Eddie grumbles, snapping him out of his haze of self-hatred. "We've got about another 20 minutes so let's speed this up, yeah?"

He charged ahead, leaving Steve behind to stand in contemplation before he begrudgingly followed. Steve sighs. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut?

“Hello? Can anyone hear us?”

“Is anyone there?”

“I repeat, is anyone there?”

Your knuckles were white with the grasp you had on the microphone, throat tightening with every communication you tried. It had been a couple of minutes, and there hasn’t been a single response.

Once you and Jonathan had navigated the maze of hallways, you had been quick to usher him inside the comms room and lock the door behind you, ensuring at least some kind of security in your mission. Jonathan had assured you he could send out a signal to your friends, and you had immediately began your search for an exit using the camera system Brenner had set up in here. The only problem was that you couldn’t see an exit, and no one was responding to your call.

“It’s Y/n. Y/n Hopper. I’m here with Jonathan Byers. Can anyone hear us?” You try again, sharing a look with the boy currently fixated on the radio system. “We’re stuck in a bunker, and we need help. Over.”

The device eventually rests back on the table’s surface, along with your hope of a response.

“I thought you said they were monitoring the stations?” You ask Jonathan as he fiddles with various dials.

“They are.” He says with determination, shaking his head at the machine. “Dustin basically built on some radio extension, they should be able to hear us. Maybe it’s a problem with-”

His voice falters as he peers behind the table, momentarily ducking down. “I found the problem.”

Before you can ask, he sits back up with a frayed wire in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Shit.” You breathe and he can only nod, inspecting it with disdain.

“Looks like someone tampered with it.” He sighs, leaning back in the chair. “Can we guess who?”

“Probably the same person who removed any trace of a door from the camera feeds.” You say, resting your head in your hand as you continue to click through the screens in front of you.

You had seen what felt like a million hallways and rooms, an unnecessary amount of security in a deserted bunker, but not one single way out of here. It was starting to mess with your brain, wondering if there was even an exit at all.

“Maybe he knew we were gonna escape? You know, just ruined the radio and removed the camera on the front door so we couldn’t leave.” You offer, resisting the repetitive click of the mouse by pushing away from the desk and resting your hands between your thighs.

“How would he know that?” Jonathan frowns, looking lost in thought. “He’s crafty, I’ll give him that. He’s supposed to be dead so I guess nothing can surprise me now.”

You slowly nod along to his words, not really retaining anything here or there. Jonathan explained to you who Brenner was just moments prior to accepting defeat with the technology surrounding you. It turns out he wasn’t a complete stranger after all; Hopper had been hunting him down for years. But there was only so much Jonathan could tell you about him.

You still didn’t know why he took you here in the first place. Or why Jonathan was locked up in a random room with medical equipment.

While Jonathan continues to mutter about the possibilities of escaping, your eyes catch a series of tapes lined across shelves, noticing that very few are marked with a subject.

“What do they say?” You point above him, cutting off his spiel about seeing if there was a weapons room.

“Uh…” Jonathan abandons his seat and peers at the shelf, tilting his head to read the tapes. “There are a couple that say ‘Lab’. Another says ‘Experiment 8’... this one is creepy. It just says, ‘I saw you’.”

A chill runs down your spine as his eyes meet yours with matching concern. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Play it.” You say with more confidence than you expected. 

Jonathan doesn’t object, slipping the tape into the player and watching the screen brighten with the image of a furnished room.

“What’s this?” He frowns, looking to you for some sort of answer. Your face had dropped, eyes glued to the screen.

“No.” You whisper, watching yesterday play out in front of you for the second time.

The camera feed suggested it was hidden in a vent closer to the ceiling, metal lines obstructing some view, but the subject was still clear as day. You watched as Owens talked to you on the couch, holding your breath. Even in a grainy exposure, you could still see the fear on his face.

“What’s happening?” Jonathan asks quietly just as Owens ushers you to the closet.

“He’s saving me.” You state and Brenner walks into the room. From this angle, you can see the gun he’s hiding behind his back, and it makes your stomach churn.

“What…” Jonathan’s question cuts off with the flash of a bullet, a gasp leaving his lips as Owens falls to the ground and lays in a pool of his own blood. “He killed him.”

If the screen weren’t so big, you would’ve missed the way Brenner turns his head to the vent, eyes staring directly into the camera. He doesn’t smile, or speak. He just stares. Like he knew.

Because he always knew.

“There aren’t meant to be any cameras in there.” You say, shaking your head. “He- he knew Owens was telling me everything, he knew I saw what he did.”

“So why didn’t he kill you too?” Jonathan asks the million dollar question. Why didn’t he kill you too?

“Play the other ones.” You nod. “We have to figure out what he knows.”

The tapes didn’t relax your anxiety. You and Jonathan watched three before you felt like you could throw up if you continued.

Each one was a different shot of the Hawkins lab, following the lives of your dad, the kids, everyone. There wasn’t any sound, but it was pretty clear what each person was doing; patrols, planning. He had been watching all of you this entire time.

“There’s more.” Jonathan says, pulling out notebooks from one of the drawers he had curiously opened while you were flicking through tapes. “He’s been writing about us.”

You flick through a couple of pages, frowning. The writing was messy and cursive, detailing different notes about conspiracies, almost all about Hopper and his whereabouts. “Why? Why does he care what we’re doing?”

“Maybe he doesn’t like that we’re trying to find a way to close these gates.”

“What possible reason does he have to keep them open?” You ask just as you discard another book, laying your eyes on the last in the pile.

This notebook was eerily familiar to you. It seemed worn, a couple scratches and stains. They were almost comforting, especially in a stark clean place like this.

You turn the first page and fall into realisation, observing the scrawl of handwriting that fell from your own fingertips. It was your notebook.

It contained information about monsters; their strengths and weaknesses. Like you had been observing them for a while, not that you could remember. And it contained a small diary entry every few pages. Nothing seemed of importance, mostly details about feeling ill or wanting to go home. But one word was scribbled across these pages with such care, catching your eye with every letter.

The most important piece to the puzzle.

"Steve." You manage to whisper out before turning to the screen with haste when you hear your own voice muttering through the screen. This video had audio.

“When was this?” Jonathan asks, and you look closer.

You and a boy are standing at a railing, staring out of a giant glass window with one of the gates staring back at you. Steve. You were with Steve.

“I don’t remember.” You frown, trying to listen to yourself.

“… I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know each other. You don’t know me.”

“Looks like the day the lab exploded.”

Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

“How the hell did I forget that?” Your hands find a tighter grip on your notebook, pulling it closer. “I… I should have remembered.”

Jonathan offers a sympathetic smile. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for weeks. If Brenner’s been feeding you those pills this entire time… it’s gonna take a while for you to remember everything.”

But I should have remembered him.

The way Steve smiled, or how he fiddled with his hair when he was nervous. Each mole painting his skin, or the way he’d huff when he was upset in the most adorable way. The way he’d hold your hand, the sweetness and care behind every kiss. It should have been easy to remember, because your heart never truly forgot.

Your eyes drift up to the screen, watching as Steve leans closer to you. The strain on your heart was loosening with the memory of him, but your stomach tightened with guilt. He would never have forgotten you.

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Y/n?” Jonathan brings his chair closer, ensuring a respectable boundary between you two.

You almost turn back to him in defeat when you find yourself staring at the red beam of light behind you and Steve. Reaching forward, you click the mouse and pause the video, leaning closer. The gate was glowing a crimson fog onto the window, eerily beautiful despite its dangerous contents. But, most importantly, you remember that glow post-amnesia. In the room you met Owens.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out, leaning back into your chair to let the dread flood your body.

“What is it?” Jonathan glances between you and the screen, peering closer at the image as if he could use it to read your mind.

“It’s not a door.” You state with a whisper, repeating it louder when you realise he can’t understand you. “It’s not a door. Our exit. It’s a gate.”

You grab the mouse and start flicking back through the live camera feeds, rapidly searching for evidence of your claims until the image presents itself, eliciting a gasp from the boy beside you.

The room you had encountered Owens in for the first time was exactly as you remembered it. Small machines lined the walls and shutters blocked out what you assume to be a large window to your exit. The camera quality wasn’t the best, but it didn’t need to be perfect to see the red light peeking out from the cracks.

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Jonathan asks, arm leaning on the desk beside you as he peers over your shoulder, holding his breath until you answer.

“Yep.” You slowly nod, meeting his eyes. “We’re not just in a bunker.”

“We’re in the Upside Down.”

Almost as soon as the terrifying truth breathed from Jonathan’s mouth, a shrill screech of sirens started to echo around you, startling you out of your seat.

Brenner knew you were escaping.

“Shit, time to go.” Jonathan gasps, spinning around and spotting an old satchel under the desk. He quickly grabs it and starts shoving in evidence; notebooks, tapes, even an old recording device Brenner had left on the shelf.

Before you leave, you ensure your notebook is a part of the collection before unlocking the door and throwing it open to reveal the flashing white and red hallway of your nightmares.

“Which way?!” Jonathan yells over the alarm and you grab his arm, tugging him left into a sprinted run, racing against the clock.

But it didn’t matter how fast you ran. You couldn't outrun time.

Darkness fell over Hawkins like an omen, plunging everything into a deep, dark, black.

The red hues of the clouds above would cast a bloody visage on the buildings whenever lightning should clash, but no thunder followed in its wake. This weather wasn’t normal. It was silent, and it was very, very deadly.

Hiding after dark was the only solution in a world like this now. Unfortunately, sanctuary was getting harder and harder to find. Steve, Billy, and Eddie, learnt that the hard way.

“I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but, uh…” Eddie’s finger waved to the ceiling, gulping.

The problem with the ceiling? There wasn’t one.

“Shit.” Billy runs a hand down his face. “Something ripped that roof clean off.”

“Maybe we should head next door?” Eddie offers, but he knew any suggestions were useless. It was pitch black and Steve was pretty sure the windows of the building opposite were smashed into pieces.

“We can set up a camp.” Steve nods slowly, looking around the store. A couple of shelf stands were still upright. Maybe if they set up their tents behind them, it’ll shield them from anything in the sky. He could shudder at the thought of something flying around right now, but it wouldn’t surprise him.

And it wasn’t necessarily a shock to him that the roof was gone. He’s constantly reminded of the giant shadow you had seen a while back, a fear in your eye he couldn’t ignore. The worst part was that Steve hadn’t seen it around lately, and that made it so much more terrifying. It suggested that this thing only appeared when it mattered.

So why target the Radio Shack?

Billy was the one to start on the tents, while Steve gathered some old wood from broken tables to throw in a pile. Eddie watches them with uncertainty, uncomfortable with how calm they seemed to be. He knew they’ve probably been through a lot, they all have, but they move with such confidence in a situation that would definitely have him spiralling if he was in charge.

“You sure these radios are gonna work?” He tries to keep himself busy as Steve looks over, nodding.

“Yeah. Not those ones, but I brought one with me. It’s battery powered so I just need any packs we can find around here. And it’s always been a pretty good spot for connections. You know, since it’s a radio store and all.” He assures, pulling out some flint he may or may not have snagged from Eddie’s camp. The boy either didn’t mind or took no notice of it, still fiddling with the radios. “Hey.”

Steve carefully takes the radio from his hand, checking the battery. It definitely needed replacing, and he held it while he assessed the situation. There were more radios scattered about, at least one of them had to have the power he needed. 

“We’ll need to contact them in the morning.” He finally says, responding to Eddie’s wide eyes of disapproval. “Look, we don’t know why but radios are practically useless when it’s dark. Maybe it’s something to do with the clouds, I don’t know. But we also don’t want any of those things out there hearing us. Especially since we don’t have a roof over our head.”

He gently places it back down on the counter, sighing.

“I say we make a small fire. Just enough to keep us warm. And we’ll block out the windows so nothing can look in.”

“What about…” Eddie points to the ceiling, eyebrows raised.

“We can risk it.” Billy finally joins them, looking up at the sky just as a burst of red illuminated the clouds. “Nothing’s seeing us from up there.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eddie asks.

Billy doesn’t respond. Instead, he swipes the flint from Steve’s hand and starts work on the campfire, avoiding their eyes.

Steve has never known Billy to be normal. Not even close. He was an egomaniac, emphasis on the maniac, with an array of anger issues and, frankly, terrible judgement. I mean, this guy saw Lucas Sinclair as a threat, and Steve knew there could be only one reason why Lucas of all the boys was targeted.

And yet, even with all his horrible traits, Steve hasn’t known Billy to act this… weird. He was quieter, motivated, and, above all else, somewhat selfless? He didn’t have to volunteer for this trip. He certainly didn’t have to stay when the plan went awry, and considering the military were moving people out, Billy has every opportunity to leave them behind.

Something was just off. And he couldn’t figure out why.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about it…” Eddie says after a while, the fire set and his back resting against an old wall. Steve looks over before his breath hitches in his throat.

You sat there once. It was back in the Upside Down, but it reminded him of you all the same. Eddie had that same look of defeat on his face, a cool determination still resting behind his eyes like he was still trying to fight. Just like you did.

God, he missed you so fucking much.

“Why is this person you’re looking for so important?” Eddie finishes and Billy’s eyes briefly flicker to Steve’s, the truth weighing heavy on his tongue.

“Because she is.” Steve replies simply, rubbing his hands together as the cold air creeps between the flames. “And she’s incredibly important to all of us.”

“Why?”

“She just is.”

Eddie tightens his lips, slowly nodding. Even as Steve avoids his eyes, his gaze is hard set on the side of his head, reading him like a book. He could almost feel the thoughts radiating from Eddie’s head.

"You're searching for Y/n, aren't you?"

Everything is suddenly too silent. Even Billy tensed up a little, pausing his efforts to pry open a tin of beans they’d packed back at the camp.

Steve isn't sure how to respond. He wasn't expecting Eddie to make such an accurate guess, especially considering your reputation in high school; Steve risking his life for you wouldn't ever cross someone's mind if they had not witnessed your change in relationship.

Unless it wasn't a guess at all.

"How do you know that?"

Eddie suddenly looks sheepish, eyes darting to the ground. "I, uh... I heard... I heard something."

"Heard something?"

"Your radio." Eddie sighs, still avoiding the boy's glare. "Back at the camp. You were asleep and I was on watch that night. I thought I heard a voice- her voice. It was coming from the radio in your bag. But when I tried to respond, nothing went through so I figured I had made it up..."

"You heard her." Steve blinks, shoulders tensing. "You heard her?!"

"Woah, dude, calm down." Eddie jumps from his seat, hands surrendering. "I was gonna look into it when we got here, try and send out another signal."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?!"

"Because last I heard you guys hated each other! How was I meant to know you're friends now?! I've been stuck on the other side of town for weeks now trying to help my uncle, I don't have time to catch up on the latest King Steve gossip!"

"Stop calling me that."

"My bad, would you prefer ‘freak’?"

"Fucking hell, will the both of you just shut the fuck up?" Billy groans, discarding the tin of beans and looking at them in disbelief. "You guys keep arguing over and over and unless one of you is gonna man up and beat the shit out of the other one, I'm sick of your whining."

Steve blinks. Billy Hargrove was the one telling them that their anger issues were the problem? Considering Eddie's similar expression, he wasn't the only one who realised how insane that sounded. Which only meant Billy was right; they really were a problem.

"Ah." Billy grins sarcastically, leaning back against the shelves, "Music to my ears."

"Whatever." Eddie coughs, snagging the radio from the counter and marching away before anyone could protest, mumbling about trying to find another battery.

"What is his problem?" Steve muttered to himself, not quietly enough to avoid Billy's coarse chuckle. "What?"

"Maybe the dude is worked up because we won't tell him a single thing about anything." He offers, eyes plastered the last remaining flickers of ember in the campfire. "We haven't told him about the Upside Down, forgot to mention anything about the gates of hell that we're trying to track. And now you're neglecting to tell him about how Y/n is trapped in another dimension and needs our help. Dude is gonna be pissed."

"Why does he care?" Steve asks, barely any venom in his words. He was just tired. More tired than he usually gets. Maybe he should have taken the opportunity to sleep when the tents were set up.

"About the Upside Down?" Billy cocks a brow, sending a knowing look. "Or Y/n?"

Steve straightens at the way he said it, shifting uncomfortably at the idea he was alluding to something he wasn't aware of.

"Both..." Steve says with uncertainty.

Billy smirks, almost hidden under the growing shade of nightfall. 

"I'm pretty sure his uncle is dying and he doesn't know how to stop it."

Dread and guilt bubble into their own brew in Steve's stomach, tightening his throat. "How the hell would you know that?"

"By using these things people call eyes."

"Alright, don't-"

"And because you've both been so busy avoiding the truth around each other that I've been noticing things you've both forgotten to hide. His uncle is clearly the most resourceful of all of them back at the camp and yet he's the only one who stays behind to 'keep watch'. Eddie always keeps things private from him like he's tryna protect him. And I'm pretty sure that Heather girl is in on it, too. She was training to be a lifeguard before Hawkins went to shit and is probably the only one with first aid experience. Tommy and Chrissy however have no clue since they're clearly traumatised about what happened to them on ‘day one’."

Steve is speechless to say the least, the darkness shedding a whole new light on his perception of the boy next to him.

"You got all that from just looking?"

"You can notice shit a whole lot better when you become an afterthought." He replies, a quiet anger in his eyes. "Y/n taught me that."

Steve tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help fixating on that last little comment. An afterthought. That's how you've felt this entire time. From realising you had been lied to for two years to assuming your father had left without you, Steve never truly appreciated how alone you must have felt, predicting people's departures before they'd ever arrived. 

"And the reason Eddie should know about what's happening to Y/n is the same reason we're out here right now risking our damn lives." Billy's eyes drift to where Eddie was fiddling the radio now, whispering into the speaker with a false sense of hope. "He cares about her."

"I didn't even know they were friends." Steve sighs, sitting down in defeat. Another migraine began to form behind his eyes. Jesus, he could use some painkillers right now.

"Me neither." Billy shrugs, and Steve looks at him quizzically. "What? Just because I'm observant doesn't mean I'm a fucking psychic. I only moved here last year, remember?"

"Trying to forget." Steve comments, but there was no malice. In fact, if Steve squinted, he could just see the making of a smirk lifting the corner of Billy's lips.

They could never be friends. But that didn't mean they had to hate each other forever.

You taught him that.

The persistent sounds of a warning system were the last thing you needed in such a hasty situation. It was hard enough to recall the layout of a white-walled maze without the constant interference of a building headache, barely remembering to grab onto Jonathan’s arm anytime you made a sudden sharp turn.

Time was running against you now. One wrong turn and it could all be over.

“We’re almost there!” You say aloud, but it wasn’t to ease Jonathan’s mind. 

You recognised the increasing door numbers around you, reminiscent of the days you would wander around this place and only have to worry about your memory.

It seemed that the closer to the gate you were, the quieter the alarms became. Maybe the power was malfunctioning. After all, electricity didn’t exist in the Upside Down. Brenner must be powering it with some external source and the security system had to be using up all that energy rapidly.

“It’s just down-”

As you pull Jonathan around another corner, attempting to lead him to the gate, someone blocks the hallway, gun in his unnaturally steady hand.

The both of you stop dead in your tracks, locking eyes with your captor.

“I can’t let you leave.” Brenner says, unwavering. “My work isn’t complete.”

You shake your head, slowly raising your hands in surrender. “What work?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t expect him to, especially not when he looked like that.

Eyes bloodshot and white hair messy, Brenner looked like he had been fighting. There were no bruises or blood as evidence, but his demeanour was wilder than you’ve ever known it to be. He was always collected, calm, unusually so. And right now, he didn’t look like himself.

“I… I can’t let you leave.” His voice trembles this time, alongside a slight tremor in his hand.

Beside you, you can feel Jonathan move closer. He’s obviously preparing for the worst, hoping you both can run before the bullet reaches you.

“You don’t understand!” Brenner yells this time, taking two harsh steps closer to you. You flinch, but he doesn’t pull the trigger. “I can’t- I can’t let him have her.”

That caught you by surprise, your hands slowly lowering back down to your sides. “Who…”

“I could have done great things. I would have.” He begins laughing to himself now, a crazed shell of himself echoing into the hallway. “But she is more important.”

Slowly, his hand lowers, gun pointed at the floor. He starts to stare into the distance, an unsettling smile dropping to a defeated expression. You exchange a look with Jonathan, unsure how to approach him. Brenner was clearly out of his mind and was blocking the only way out.

“Brenner?” You whisper out, taking a tentative step forward much to Jonathan’s immediate distress.

“What are you-”

You shrug him off, tilting your head to hopefully catch Brenner’s eye. You always had a sixth sense about people, about if they were truly good or evil. And right now, you saw a man that needed help. He wasn’t okay, and you hoped that your instincts were right.

“Dr?” You try again, and this time, he looks up.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he meets your eyes, his own glittering with silent tears. “I truly am sorry.”

“Just let us go.” You plead with a comforting voice, holding out your hands. “We’ll forget all about this. You- you need help. We can… we can get help.”

“You can’t leave.” He frowns, face suddenly hardening to stone.

“Y/n…” Jonathan warns, stepping closer to you, but it was too late.

Brenner raises the gun, straightening his stance and pointing it directly at your chest. “I can’t let him win.”

Him? You question, eyes glued to the weapon. You notice the flicker of his index finger on the trigger, and you wish you hadn’t. It meant you were about to die.

Or, at least, someone was.

Before any bullets could leave the barrel, something big lunges out from the darkness and pounces onto Brenner, the gun firing into the wall beside your head.

Brenner yells out in pain as the monster raises its ugly claw, striking down. A scream almost leaves your lips before Jonathan is taking the opportunity to escape, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the horrifying miracle.

You find yourself unable to decide if leaving Brenner was making you feel guilty or not. And you didn’t have time to. Jonathan leads you straight to the red hue seeping from behind one of the doors, throwing it open and tugging you inside with haste.

“How do we-” 

He begins to ask how to open the shutters, but you’ve already launched yourself towards the door on the far end of the room, following the faint hum that has haunted your dreams since day one. He joins you almost as quickly as you left him, standing beside you in the open doorway and staring in at the room that follows.

“Jesus…” He whispers, the gate smaller than the one at the lab but big enough to have him wondering. “We’ve been searching for a gate for weeks. And it’s been here the whole time? How did we miss this?”

The taunting sound of heavy footsteps call out from behind you, something big hitting the door with malicious intent.

Both of you jump inside the room, tipping over a metal unit to block the door before you make a run for it, the shelves you destroyed scraping against the floor as the monster attempts to break in.

As your footsteps echo loudly against the silver steps leading to the gate, the unsettling wave of familiarity plagues you for the last time inside this bunker.

A lab, a gate, a boy. Time was repeating itself, over and over, making you question if your actions ever meant anything at all. You always ended back here, back in a life or death deal with only one realistic option left for survival; run.

You almost slip, but Jonathan manages to catch you, a terrifying crash sounding from the door.

As Jonathan takes your hand in his, the cool skin feels unusual against yours. Your body was aching for some kind of warmth this boy didn't have, reminiscent of a safe grasp.

You didn’t realise what was wrong until you were being pulled through the gate with a gasp, senses thrown off balance as you barely escaped the claws of a close death.

Jonathan’s hand didn't bring the same comfort you’ve yearned for all this time.

He wasn't Steve.

No one really appreciates a roof over their head until they don’t have it anymore.

There was the blinding light of sun peeking through the grey clouds and a horrible sensation of something clinging to his arm when he woke, causing Steve to groan in despair. He barely got any sleep last night, and now he’ll probably be up for another 20 hours. Life sucked right now.

Steve peels his arm away from the lining of the tent, frowning. It felt wet. Why was it wet?

Crawling out of his pop-up quarters, ignoring how uncool he must look right now, Steve’s heart drops as his hand slips into a puddle. It rained. It rained.

“Shit.” He spits, scrambling to his feet and letting his eyes fall across the store.

Any and all electronic equipment was now soaked and useless.

“Shit!” He says, louder this time. His hands were pressed against the top of his head as he paced.

“What’s going on?” Eddie yawns, stepping out of the second tent with much more grace than Steve had earlier. But he couldn’t dwell on that, right now. “Damn. When did it rain?”

“The batteries.” Steve gasped, rushing over to the counter. 

Any radios left were drowned, leaving no promise of what he desperately needed. His hands fumble with the battery compartments, a little piece of his soul chipping away as each battery led in their own pools of rain.

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice wasn’t a priority. His hands were shaking. He was stuck here, just like in the Upside Down. Just like you. And now he-

“Steve!”

His eyes finally snap up to see his saving grace.

Eddie stood with a radio in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “It’s fine. I found a battery and shoved it into my tent when we turned in last night. And it works, too.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve sighs, releasing all his anxious energy back into the air.

“You sleep okay, man? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I- I’m okay.” He rubs his eyes, sucking in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could be in an apocalypse. “Where’s Billy?”

“Uh…” Eddie takes a quick look around before deciding on a shrug.

“Great.” Steve sighs, rolling his shoulder. There was still a dull ache resting there, flaming whenever he moved his left arm. “I’ll start getting us packed up, you try and contact your camp.”

Eddie didn’t seem all too convinced by his false display of wellness. “You sure you’re-”

“I’m fine.” Steve offers a tight-lipped smile, already taking down the tents with haste that suggested he really wasn’t in the mood to talk about how miserable he was right now. “See if anything else survived. We’ll need some spare batteries for when we’re out of the mall. Just in case.”

“Cool. Back-ups. I like it.” Eddie nods, mostly to himself since Steve had already left his side.

Steve’s hands immediately find solace in disassembling the tents, grateful to be busy. He wasn’t sure what was making him so cranky. Usually it would be from another nightmare he couldn’t control, images of your virus-stricken form weaving into his deepest fears. He didn’t dream last night, but he wasn’t even sure he slept at all.

It was like there was a small nagging pinch of a dagger resting at the back of his mind, occasionally piercing him but mostly leaving a dull ache in his brain. It was almost torture, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it. No sleep, no water or food, could remove it no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe it was all the pressure finally taking its toll on him. The apocalypse wasn’t resting easy on anyone’s mind, but after losing you and leading Jonathan straight to his demise, it was certainly heavy.

Maybe it was something else entirely. Something he missed. He’d been feeling it since that day in the motel basement, where you sacrificed all you had left to make sure he was saved. But he had nothing more than a blackout and a painful memory to evidence his growing fatigue.

One thing was for sure; his only cure right now would be you.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice calls out from the other side of the shelves, making Steve pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something staring at me.”

Steve pauses all movement, eyes widening. His heartbeat raises quicker than usual, a trail of goosebumps straightening the hairs on his arms.

“Is this the demogorgon you were talking about?” He asks, and Steve slowly makes his way back through the store, attempting to catch a glimpse of the window.

“Tall, grey, faceless?” Steve recalls, taking slow steps. He can just see his bat resting near one of the deflated tents, calling to him. The sun above made everything impossible to see, pu

re light reflecting on the window.

“No. It’s, uh…”

When Eddie’s words falter, Steve makes a quick and crucial decision. He steps to his bat and swipes it off the ground, turning to see the boy fully now. Eddie’s face had fallen, fists clenched.

“What?” Steve frowns, afraid to look behind him at the glass pane.

“It’s grinning at me.”

Heart sinking into his stomach, Steve can’t seem to find the words to warn Eddie before glass shatters the earth behind him, a sharp ringing in his ear. It cuts his voice with a sliced gasp through the air as something pulls him backwards until he hits the ground hard.

He didn’t get a moment to recover. A large clawed hand found its way around his throat, pinning him to the ground.

As he chokes for breath, Steve finds himself staring up at the eerie image of a jagged smile, dead eyes glaring down at him with enough malice to turn his body cold. But Steve wasn’t the target. After all, that thing didn’t smile at him.

Pressure relieves his neck and he’s no longer the prey.

“Eddie-” He gasps, trying to sit up when the grinning monster leaves his side. “Run.”

“Shit!” Eddie has no objections as he snatches the radio from the counter and takes off in the opposite direction. And, just as Steve assumed, the monster followed.

A burst of pain seeped from his shoulder and along his spine, a hiss leaving Steve’s lips as he forced himself to stand. Various cuts from shards of glass littered his hands but that would have to wait.

“Billy!” He yells out, eyes struggling to focus around him. 

He doesn’t understand why it didn’t just kill him when it had the chance, but there wasn’t much time to debate it. Billy had the only weapon sure enough to take this thing out with a single blow to the head, and he was nowhere to be seen.

A cry echoes from inside the Radio Shack and Steve’s hand instinctively finds his bat. I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way, he thinks as he rushes to the noise, his only plan resting on the pure adrenaline of fear.

He appeared just in time to watch Eddie’s feet dangle above the ground, his hands scrambling to tear at the thick skin of the monster’s grip around his neck. Steve ignores the pain in his shoulder to lift the bat above his head and swipe it down onto the back of its head with as much force as he could muster.

It screeches, dropping Eddie to snap its head around to where Steve stood, panting. The bat was laced with droplets of blood, but his attack didn’t cause the damage he had hoped for.

Claws swiped at his face, causing him to jump back and stumble directly into old wooden shelves. They collapse into a heap behind him and he loses his footing.

His bat rolls from his grip and his eyes widen just as the smirk of his worst fears approaches him. It only seems to get bigger, the disproportionate body towering over him. It grinned the same way it had at Eddie. He was next.

“Hey!”

The sickening smile still rested on its face as it turned to the intrusion, keen on finding something to rip apart. Steve felt despair for a moment, closed in with a pile of wooden rubble at his feet.

He shouldn’t have doubted Eddie’s fighting spirit.

An ear-splitting scream left the creature’s jagged mouth when Eddie’s spear slotted perfectly into one of its eyes, black blood pouring out from the back of its head as it wobbled from left to right.

Steve manages to scurry out of the way just in time for the monster to collapse into the heap, a stomach-churning squelch of the spear being pushed further into the head with the impact.

“Smile about that, asshole.” Eddie quips, still shaking with fear.

Steve’s wide eyes turn into lights of approval, a trembling laugh erupting from his mouth. “Holy shit.”

Eddie only nods, adjusting his bandana. “Holy shit.”

“You just killed that thing with a spear.” Steve says in bewilderment, still chuckling, but none of it was funny. It was just easier this way, to find the humour in a situation that was very much deadly a few seconds ago.

“I played a lot of DnD.” He replies earnestly, balling his hands into fists. Steve could tell he was trying to pretend it was nothing, to brush it off. “That was… that was the first thing I’ve ever killed.”

“Really?” Steve frowns, brushing the dust from his hands. He was pretty much sitting in a puddle right now, but he wasn’t sure he could stand. Adrenaline wore off pretty quickly. “Well, uh… congrats, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

Steve had a lot of experience battling monsters from the Upside Down. Although, he wasn’t necessarily an expert per say. The normal baseline for experience with these things would be absolutely zero considering they aren’t meant to exist. But he knew the first time facing the reality of a life and death situation was scarring. He also knew Eddie should count himself lucky; not everyone could stand their ground.

Sometimes people run away before they learn that courage.

“Are we sure it's dead?” Eddie asks, peering down at it. Before Steve can reply, the answer presents itself instead.

The thing twitched, clawed hand shooting out to grab onto Eddie’s leg. Bat resting further than Steve would have hoped, he scrambles for a new weapon, hands rooting around the dirty ground for a rock heavy enough to cause some damage.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to search long.

A heavy shot pierces the air and the next thing he knows, Eddie is splattered with the monster’s blood, the tight grip on his ankle faltering until the thing goes limp and it falls with a single bullet between the eyes.

“Holy shit.” Eddie exhales, looking up with an anxious smile, “That was close.”

Steve can only nod in exasperation, pushing himself from the ground for the fourth time today and dusting his hands free of gravel.

He turns to look for Billy’s smug face, expecting the drawl of condescending remarks to fall upon his ear. He was sorely mistaken.

One glance at the dead monster and he sees it; one tiny, clean, bullet hole. Not from a shotgun.

“Can’t you go anywhere without me?”

“... Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler stands with her trusted gun pointed at the ground, a relieved smile painting her lips. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he saw her, a new jacket he recognised straight from Jonathan’s wardrobe. She had a satchel resting across her body, but that wasn’t her only accessory.

Behind her, Robin Buckley stood with arms folded, a radio strapped to her hip and paired with a taser on the other side. She didn’t smile, but Steve wasn’t at all surprised. She’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t a fan of his since your disappearance.

The only surprise was the fact they were both here.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He finally asks, posture depleting with exasperation.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Nancy says, retiring her gun back to her belt. “Where have you guys been? We’ve been trying to radio-”

Her voice cuts out when she notices Eddie stood there awkwardly.

“Uh, hi.” He offers a wave, and she merely nods back. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson?” She frowns, looking between him and Steve before focusing on the latter. “When did-”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs.

“Not really.”

Billy finally rejoins the group, the shotgun they had desperately needed a minute ago looped onto his shoulder. His shoes were muddy, hair a little damp from what Steve assumes to be the early rain.

“We got stranded at the library and ran into some other survivors. We camped out with them and then Munson offered to take us to the last place with supplies and, well, here we are.” Billy recalls, folding his arms. “Not a long story.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Everyone turns to Steve in surprise. His voice was bitter, a bite in his eye that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.

“Took a walk.” Billy says, stoic expression faltering slightly when he finally clocks the dead monster on the ground. “Ah.”

“Ah?” Steve repeats, walking over to him. “Ah? We almost died because you took our only solid weapon on a walk, and all you can say is ‘ah’?!”

“Chill out, it’s dead, isn’t it?” Billy straightens, undefeated by Steve’s dangerous gaze. “Obviously you didn’t need me.”

“I can’t believe you-”

“Woah, okay.” Nancy steps forward, hand guiding Steve away from Billy with an ounce of pressure on his shoulder and he winces. “Sorry. Let’s just… calm down. We can fight about this later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“She’s right.” Robin speaks up for the first time, tilting her head. “We have a lead.”

“A lead on what?” Steve frowns, stalking away from Billy and cradling his shoulder. It definitely got worse after the attack.

“Y/n.”

If his heart could jump from his chest and strangle him, he’s sure it would have done it just then, throat tightening with a thick set of emotion. “What… what about her?”

“We heard her.” Nancy smiles, nodding feverously. “We picked up a signal yesterday. It was definitely Y/n. She’s- she’s alive. And she’s not alone.”

“Who…”

“Jonathan.” She laughs this time. Complete and utter joy slipping from her lips, a light he definitely hadn’t seen in some time.

Steve can only shake his head. “Wait, but that’s- how could he-”

“I don’t know.” Nancy steps closer, ensuring that he was only focused on what she had to say and not the disbelief running through his thoughts. “But we definitely heard her right. She and Jonathan were saying they were stuck somewhere. We- we lost the signal before we heard anything else, but it’s them. They’re alive, Steve. I know it.”

Confliction rolled around Steve’s stomach until it made him sick. He had so many concerns about this supposed signal, but mostly he was afraid that steering off course for a hopeful miracle would ruin everything. If the signal was wrong, if you and Jonathan weren’t there… then what?

“We’re heading to the new mall. Eddie says there’s enough supplies there to last us another month at least. I can’t- we can’t leave without it.”

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Nancy shakes her head in bewilderment, struck with relief of their luck, “But Hopper managed to track the signal.”

Billy unfolds his arms and Eddie stops slumping. Nancy doesn’t have to finish her words, but she does anyway, letting that hope solidify with a heavy promise.

“They’re in Starcourt already.”

[A/N: the next chapter is coming whenever I'm not rethinking my entire life after three years of university just to end up in a retail job, i hate it here. but ily guys for still reading]

@sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore . @carolineesnell .

[sweetvoidstuff]

A Normal Life is Just a Dream- Gravity and Gold

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) wants a normal university life, hiding her gravity powers, while Jungkook strives to be a perfect hero. When villains attack their campus, she is forced to make a choice—stay hidden or fight. Their encounter changes everything.

Masterlist

Story List

Wordcount: ~550

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please let me know—I’d love to hear your thoughts. I plan to publish one chapter per week, so stay tuned for more!

Chapter 1: A Normal Life is Just a Dream

The campus was bustling with life, a sea of students moving from one class to another, laughing, chatting, and stressing over assignments. You gripped the straps of your backpack tightly, keeping your head down as you weaved through the crowd going to the library. You had spent years mastering the art of invisibility—not literal invisibility, but blending in, keeping your powers a secret, and living like an ordinary student.

Because in this world, people with supernatural abilities were feared. Watched. Controlled.

And you wanted none of that.

Gravity bent to your will, the air itself lighter when you focused, objects drawn to your fingertips like celestial bodies obeying a hidden force - a force of nature, something untouchable and unseen. Yet, for you, it was something to be controlled, manipulated—something dangerous. But you refused to use it. You didn’t want dangerous. You wanted normal.

Which was why you sat at the farthest table in the university’s library, surrounded by the mundane sounds of shuffling papers and the quiet hum of whispered conversations. A physics textbook lay open before you, but your mind drifted, fingers absently spinning your pen in weightless defiance of the laws of motion. A small, personal rebellion. As long as no one noticed, it didn’t count as using your powers, right?

Across campus, however, someone had a very different philosophy about their abilities.

Jungkook lived for control.

Golden lightning crackled along his fingertips as he stood in the middle of an empty training hall, exhaling through clenched teeth. The air around him shimmered with electricity, the overhead lights flickering in response to the charge building within him. He stretched out his hand, watching the arcs of energy snap and curl around his palm. It still wasn’t perfect. He needed more precision, more mastery.

Heroes weren’t born—they were made. He was determined to become the best.

“Jungkook, you’re going to short-circuit the building again.”

The voice belonged to Namjoon, who leaned against the doorway with arms crossed, watching him with the exasperated patience of an older brother. Behind him, the rest of their team—Jin, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok—lingered, varying degrees of amusement and concern on their faces.

Jungkook smirked. “Not this time.”

A single bolt shot from his hand, striking the metal dummy in the center of the room. It hit with a resounding crack, but instead of scattering wildly like before, it coiled around the target and dissipated into controlled sparks. Satisfaction curled in his chest.

Hoseok let out a low whistle. “Show-off.”

Jimin elbowed him. “He has to be. How else is he gonna be the ‘Golden Hero’?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “It’s not about showing off. It’s about being ready.”

“Ready for what?” Yoongi drawled, looking unimpressed. “The exams are still months away.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. They all knew why he pushed himself harder than the rest. Villains didn’t wait for exams. They didn’t follow rules. The stronger he became, the better he could protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“Come on, we’re grabbing food,” Jin said, slinging an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. “You can be broody and heroic after you eat.”

Jungkook huffed but allowed himself to be dragged along. He could always train more later.

[the-kr8tor]

Hi I love your fics!!! Can you do one for the twins au where Ramona and Billie are maybe 4 or 5 and they start to notice Hobies British accent and start talking like him and saying British phrases. Like he asks them something and they just go “nah bruv” or there are just little instances throughout there day to day lives that reader and Hobie start to notice, where they use his slang at different moments at home, at the store, and it all comes to a head at school (cue parent teacher conference cause they asked a “kid are you mad bruv” and the teacher needs clarification lol). They’re able to watch a recording of their interaction during playtime with the student like you know how some schools have cameras where you can watch your kid now. Him and reader are surprised at how well they imitate his accent and try not laugh in front of the teacher but they tell them they can’t repeat everything daddy says and when readers not looking gives them a little proud wink and they giggle lol!!

Thank you for the adorable request! I changed it up a bit hope you don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Mom! Reader, Dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You feel like a kid again sitting on the tiny, clearly not for adults chair. The classroom smells of crayons and glue, the walls are painted in every color of the rainbow, posters of numbers, letters and animals are taped on the walls. Flitting your eyes behind you to check on Billie and Mona, you see them build a house using blocks, mumbling to each other. They're wearing matching sweaters today (per their request,) bees and flowers adorning the thick fabric. And ribbons in their pretty hair. Mona rambles on to her sister about lego whilst her sister listens.

Hobie sits next to you, he doesn't look any better than you. With his long legs and arms, half of his body is the only part of him sitting on the pink plastic chair. Butt half hanging on the side, legs tucked, arms around his legs, back slouched— you bite your lip at the sight, trying your best not to laugh at his state.

Hobie senses your snicker, and you feel like you're back in school again when you quickly turn your head away, pretending you weren't looking at his lanky self struggling to sit on a kindergartener's chair.

He narrows his eyes, taking the teacher's erasure off her desk, flinging it towards your direction– hitting you right on your head. It bounces off and you gasp at the audacity. Faking innocence, Hobie whistles a nonchalant tune, eyes pretending to scan the poster of the alphabet tacked on the chalkboard.

“Really?” You say, smiling through it whilst picking up the fallen eraser.

“You started it.” The father of your children teasingly says as if his girls aren't just behind him playing blocks. Way to set an example.

“Nuh-uh”

“Yu-uh”

You threaten to toss the eraser at his smug face. He shields himself with his arms, chuckling under it. The door opens and you two straighten up, putting back the stationary on the teacher's table like nothing happened.

You definitely feel like you're a kid again.

“Sorry I'm late.” She apologizes, yellow dress swinging as she speed walks towards her table. “Lots of parents, so sorry.”

“That's alright,” you smile at the preppy woman, your hands on your knees, all prim and proper in front of your girls' favourite teacher.

Billie and Ramona had a hard time adjusting to school, but once Ms. Jenkins got them out of their shell, they would always ask you and Hobie if there's school the next day, or what kind of lunch they'll have for recess because their new friends apparently don't like raisins. They love to share, just as long as they eat theirs. So you always pack extras for their friends even though either you or Hobie have to wake up earlier than usual.

You like Ms. Jenkins, she's bubbly and awfully good at her job. One time Billie got sick and couldn't go to school, she personally contacted you to ask how she's doing and even got the entire class to make ‘get well soon’ cards for her. She's a sweetheart really, and most definitely likes your kids. But what has you nervously pick at your nails is that she called you and Hobie in personally for a PTA meeting. Her little note is stapled on the school's notice about the annual meeting, indicating that she needs to talk to you and Hobie.

Said man, scooches his chair closer to yours just to hold your hand while Ms. Jenkins settles on her own chair.

“So Billie and Ramona—” she starts and you hear the girls stand up abruptly from their equally tiny chairs.

“Present!” They cheerfully exclaim at the same time.

Hobie chuckles in his seat, “you run a tight ship, miss.”

“It's alright, my loves, go play.” You say in between soft laughs as you twist in your seat to look at their smiling faces. It all makes Hobie squeeze your hand tight—love overflowing through every squeeze.

Ms. Jenkins laughs, “they love attendance time, I always see them hyping themselves up before I call them.”

“Adorable.” You coo.

“So back to business,” she clasps her hands atop the desk. “Their grades are phenomenal, I know they're still just babies and grades don't usually matter in their level, but they're crushing it.”

Hobie gives you a look, wordlessly telling you, ‘we did that’

You nod, silently replying. ‘hell yeah, we did’

“They’re friends with the whole class.” The teacher continues “Yes, it was quite a hurdle for Ramona but she conquered it with the help of Billie. And when Billie needed help with maths, she helped her there without Billie asking for it.” She smiles and you feel sunshine come out of her. “They're the perfect team.”

“That's brilliant then, why the note?” Hobie asks before you could.

“They are a delight to have in class, but—” she winces. “They have been using some…colourful slang recently.”

“Oh no,” You look at Hobie in the corner of your eyes. He shakes his head innocently at your accusation. “Was it a bad word?”

“Not particularly, uh, it's all fine and dandy, like calling their mates ‘bloke’ or ‘bruv’—”

Hobie lets out a snicker, accidentally interrupting the teacher with his laugh. You glare secretly at him.

“Right, sorry, not funny at all.” He tries to save face. “Continue, Miss.”

“It's alright that they use it but I find that they've been using it more frequently and just last week they disrupted class when they uh…” Ms. Jenkins leans closer, elbows propped on her desk, whispering her words like a secret. “Yelled during movie time to say ‘that’s the dog's bollocks’ in reference to the amazing animation.”

Hobie looks like he's dying whilst trying his hardest not to laugh. Hands clasped on his mouth, shoulders shaking, lungs wheezing and eyes tightly shut. You swear, you even see a tear clinging to his lashes.

You're not the greatest example either as you tightly press your lips together, also trying your darndest to not laugh.

You try to keep your composure even though Hobie's practically losing it next to you. Even Ms. Jenkins hides her grin.

“I'm so sorry—” you accidentally let out a giggle before inhaling deeply to tamp it down. “We'll talk to them once we get home.” Your stomach hurts from restraining yourself.

“That's great!” She clears her throat, doing better at composing herself than you and Hobie. “That's all, thank you so much for coming! There's cookies and juice in the hallway.” Standing up, she holds her hand for a handshake.

You shake her hand while Hobie's still losing it in his seat. “Thank you, Miss, have a great holiday.” You're a bit better at hiding your laughter but if Hobie let out a guffaw right now, you're for sure to follow suit.

“You too!” She smiles, “bye, Bee! Bye, Mona!” Waving her hand, the girls happily wave back.

“Okay, let's go.” You had to lift Hobie up from his seat or else he'll be glued to it while his body wracks with silent laughter.

The second you and your little family settle inside the car, Hobie lets out the loudest laugh, you follow a half second later, the sound echoing in the vehicle.

Billie and Ramona look at you two confused, hands pausing from devouring their snacks.

“I think they're proper bonkers.” Mona whispers, leaning towards her sister, and Billie nods in agreement.