#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.

[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.

[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. 

[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.

[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.

[newfoundstateof]

but she fell in love with an english man | b.b. x reader

summary: Academy friends drag Benedict to a tavern to watch Irish fiddle player!reader perform. He buys her a drink. But who can play a fiddle and drink a pint at the same time?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: suggestive but none

a/n: definitely not inspired by those tiktoks of dirty talk bar maids at ren faires, who said that???

“They are spectacular,” Rupert Norton declared with an arm slung over Benedict’s shoulder.

The rest of the Royal Academy students hummed in agreement. Already drunk from the party they left minutes ago, a small group of them stumbled down the cobbled streets of Soho. Earlier that night, news broke that a band that visited a few weeks before Benedict enrolled at the Academy had returned to much anticipation. In an instant, pipes were dropped, coats were gathered, and boots were marching to The Intrepid Fox tavern.

“They’re from Ireland,” someone said.

“I’ve never danced so much in my life,” another added.

“And the fiddle player is quite easy on the eyes,” Rupert slurred into Benedict’s ear. “Try and buy her a drink if you can. That usually gets her attention.”

Benedict laughed. “I’m just here to enjoy the music. As should all of you scoundrels.”

Once inside the tavern, a few of the men beelined to the bar to order whiskey shots for the fiddle player despite the empty stage in the corner. Benedict simply took a seat at the bar, observing the growing crowd. The band’s reputation must have preceded them, as he was soon shoulder to shoulder with the eager fans. But for the next twenty minutes, only chatter filled the room.

“They always like to keep you waiting,” Rupert grumbled into his ale. “But it’s worth it, I promise.”

“I don’t mind,” Benedict smiled. “It’s good people watch-”

The room erupted into cheering, and he turned toward the stage. Sure enough, two men climbed the small wooden platform. One carried a fiddle, the other a flute. The room roared even louder when you emerged with your fiddle, waving a good-natured hand to the audience. Your smile was wide and disarming. Your gaze was equally piercing. Looking at the gleam in your eyes, Benedict knew just how aware you were of your control over the room. Soon the clapping died down, and every soul waited with bated breath to what you would say.

A scrawny kitchen hand hurried up to you and set a tray of shots down on a small barrel.

“Wow,” you breathed. “All this for little old me?”

Benedict found himself chuckling with everyone. As you threw a shot back, his stomach dropped. You were certainly not like the young ladies of the ton. 

“This crowd is mighty impressive, isn’t it, boys?” you asked your bandmates as you all started tuning your instruments. “We appreciate you for coming out. If you don’t know us already, the lad on the flute is Johnny. My fellow friend on the fiddle is Patrick. And I’m Y/N. I have a favor to ask of you all… From now until the last of you sorry lot leave this building, I hereby decree this an Irish pub! That means we will be clapping along to the songs, singing if you know the words, and if you are so inclined, I would love to see some dancing tonight.”

Someone in the audience whistled, evoking more cheers.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” you grinned.

The trio launched into Seven Drunken Nights, a popular jig even Benedict knew. Though his classmates were rowdily singing along, he could only stare at you. Johnny and Patrick generally kept to their places on stage, but you swayed across, drawing your bow theatrically compared to Patrick’s controlled movements. He was the main vocalist, but during the wife’s lines in the song, you sang with the crowd. 

“Ah, you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you silly ol’ fool. Still, you cannot see, that’s a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me!”

Benedict couldn’t decide if you were a better fiddle player or singer, you were impeccable at both. But without a doubt, you were the best at simply putting on a show. You encouraged people to dance along as you skipped across the stage. Benedict could only imagine how taxing it was for you. Dancing, singing, and playing an instrument all while not breaking a sweat. He eyed the tray of shots, turned to the nearest bartender, and ordered something more refreshing for you.

As you strung out the last note of Seven Drunken Nights, the same kitchen hand ran the mug of beer up to your tray. You sighed to yourself.

“Which one of you did this?” you cried out, lifting the mug high.

Heads spun every which way. Benedict froze. Was liquor the only appropriate drink to tip a musician? He wasn’t sure, he’d never been to something like this. Awkwardly, he coughed and raised his hand.

Your eyes found him in the sea of faces, and you smirked. “Don’t be shy, come here!”

 Rupert clapped Benedict on the back. “Don’t screw this up, Bridgerton. She might go home with you tonight.”

Though he had been with many women and dangerously close with a few men, you still intimidated him somehow. Nothing intimate had been on his mind before Rupert’s comment, but now his heart skipped a few beats at just the thought of it. Benedict snaked through the crowd, trying to read the expression on your face. But all you looked was smug, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you poured the ale on his head. 

“Finally,” you breathed as he stood before you. “One of you buys a lady a real drink!”

He exhaled in relief.

“I’m afraid I’m quite thirsty though,” you pout, getting down on one knee. The stage was barely a foot off the ground, putting your face directly in front of Benedict’s wide shoulders. “And we need to get on with the next song, but I don’t have enough hands. Would you help me, good sir?”

Without waiting for his response, you shoved the drink in his hands and looked up to the ceiling. Before Benedict could blink, you were poising your instrument and drawing out a note with your bandmates following suit.

“We’re lucky I don’t sing in this one,” you smile, giving him a pointed look. “Get on with it, now. I’m parched.”

Never one to argue with a lady, Benedict slowly tilted the rim of the glass to your lips and poured the liquid steadily down your throat. You looked up through your lashes at him, daring him to look away. But he didn’t. Only when some of the ale dripped down your chin and onto your bodice did his gaze break yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No,” as much as you could with your lips around the glass.

As you neared the last dregs, your head tilted back more and more to get it all. The eroticism of it all was not lost on Benedict, especially as you swallowed the last gulp and moaned audibly. The growing friction in the front of his pants was no help. But once the glass was finished, you rose to your feet and sent him off with a wink. As you spun to the other side of the stage, the hem of your skirt brushed his groin and he mindlessly reached for the fabric. But you were gone. In a trance, Benedict walked backward to his friends at the bar, adjusting himself. 

“Has she done that before,” he coughed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Rupert crowed. “And I’ve seen them perform at least five times since I started at the Academy.”

“You’ve got to talk to her after, Bridgerton,” someone urged.

“Can I come along?” a voice teased.

“You’re the luckiest bastard on earth right now,” another sighed.

Across the room, you caught him starring and blew him a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Luckiest bastard on earth.”

[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.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Static Kisses

Summary: Rosie checks up on a old friend that grew distant, making a point to visit him for New Years.

Vox sat on the bench, high on the roof of the office building. In the distance, he could hear new year’s parties, sinners having the times of their afterlives as he sat, miserable. 

It had been a year since he had seen Alastor in any real sense. Vox had kissed him and in return, Alastor walked right out of his life. He had been heartbroken, struggling to put on a brave face through the reminder of the party. Then he was angry in the weeks after, as Alastor changed where he spent his time. 

Vox had thought he had moved on. He was sure he had moved on. No longer did he visit Cannibal Town. He didn’t visit the bouncing jazz clubs. He listened to modern tunes and watched modern films, with color and sound. 

He had moved on, right? Then why was he here?

“You doing okay?” Rosie’s sweet voice carried over the distance, paired with the squeaking of the old hinges. Tomorrow, this building would no longer belong to Vox or VoxTek and he had allowed the care to slip, attention focused on the tall building he had moved into. 

“Of course!” Vox pulled a bright smile across his screen, turning to face the long-time friend he had shared with Alastor. It had been so long since he had last seen her. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re not at your party,” Rosie walked across the dingy roof, somehow not seeming to be touched by the dirt or grime of hell. 

“I-” Vox hesitated, and that was always his fatal flaw, leaving an opening for someone to sneak in. Rosie was not one to ignore an opening. 

“You’re thinking about him.” She didn’t need to say who she was talking about. 

“I am not,” Vox grumbled. 

“You are.” Rosie came to an elegant stop at his side. “It’s alright to think about him, you know?” 

“I don’t want to.” 

She hummed, a soft smile on her black painted lips. “Did you know the New Year’s Kiss as we know it started in my time?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Vox grumbled, drinking the last of the rye in his glass. It was the good rye, the stuff Alastor would have drank. 

“Have you kissed anyone since?” Rosie turned to him, sparing a glance at the silver watch held around her wrist by an intricate silver chain. It had been a gift for her that Vox and Alastor had picked out together, designed together. A perfect mix of modern style at the time and classic elegance, just like the woman who wore it. 

“I don’t-” 

“The kiss was to ensure the new year was brought in with warmth, affection and love. We believed if those were what you were feeling at the moment one year came to an end and the next began, you were sure to have a good year, full of those things.” Rosie talked over Vox. “I think you’ve lacked those things this last year.” 

“I’m fine,” Vox lied as the first perfectly timed firework whistled into the sky. 

Rosie looked down at him from her towering height, a soft smile on her face. Vox was always so determined to be fine, to be strong. She admired that about him, always had, but sometimes, it was important to be weak. 

As the first firework reached the peak of its height, Rosie grabbed Vox’s screen and leaned down. Black painted lips planted on his strange, digitized flesh in a sweet, warm kiss as the sky exploded in colors. 

Under her hands, Vox’s screen casing grew warmer. His systems struggled to keep his head cool as her lips moved against his, one soft sweet kiss melding into another and another. 

Finally, as the sky was full of explosions of color, she pulled back from him. Black smeared against his screen as he blinked his bewildered eyes at her. Pink tinged his skin as he tried to keep his systems functioning. 

“There,” Rosie said, wiping her lipstick from his face with a black cloth she pulled from her pocket. “This year you’ve brought the year in with warmth and love. I hope you can find much more of that for yourself.” 

“Why did you do that?” Vox’s voice glitched as she held his clawed hand in hers.

“You deserve to be loved, Vox.” Her voice was soft, a gentle caress of words. “He didn’t feel the same. That’s okay. You deserve to find someone who does. Go out and fall in love.” 

“Rosie?” Vox flexed his fingers around her hand. 

“Find someone and fall in love. I want to dress up for your wedding.” The black void of her eyes somehow sparked in the flashing lights of the fireworks. 

“It hurts to,” Vox whispered. 

“I know.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. “But few men are stronger than you. You can do it.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[c0la-queen]

HELLO!! I just wanted to say that I am absolutely IN LOVE with your works!!! 😭😭😭 its hard to even find EW fanfics nowadays and your fics have such high quality it’s like finding shiny, luxurious beautiful diamonds.

I genuinely love how you depict all of the characters so much I don’t think any other resonates with me as much as yours does, most Especially Tord. My god, you write him so well, his midly uncanny strange-esq demeanor and off-putting nature fits Perfectly with his character being a child solider and all, being subjected to the horrors of survival, war and being so close to death at such a young age growing up Would absolutely make him a little abnormal, like there’s something definitively wrong with him in that twisted mind of his. I love that truly.

I’ve been mega binging your works to read for fun and I love them so much— but most especially the Hybrid series I love SOOOO MUCHHHHH AGHHHH and I wanted to ask of you were going to continue it in any forms??? 🥹🥹🥹 like hcs, more drabbles, imagines or literally Anything frfr I beg of you 😭😭🙏 I love the wolfdog boys so much hicccc…

I ALSO SAW THAT YOU WERE ASKING IF WE WANTED REVERSE AU! WHERE READER IS THE HYBRID INSTEAD AND YES ABSOLUTELY I would love to see how the gang handles her and whatnot if you’d like to make that still whehehe, anything you want really!! 😭 thank you so much for your hard work and thank you even more if you manage to write these requests 💖💖💖🥹

USUEUSSJDJ YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME WAAAAH!! Sometimes I get a little insecure about my writing, so to hear all the sweet things you guys say always makes my entire day!! And hearing you say that about my Tord is literally one of the highest forms of praise I've ever received!! I'll probably make some more content of the Hybrid Boys as well, since I love this Hybrid AU a lot! But for now, here's a drabble of Hybrid Reader that I've been working on for a little bit!!! I hope you enjoy!! Mwah mwah!!

---

Stray Bunny | Eddsworld x Reader

Warnings: Drunk Tom, Reader is a bunny hybrid because I love bunnies fight me, the boys are victim to the Hybrid Distribution System

Words: 1.4k

---

You didn't know where to go. You didn't have anywhere to go. The rain was going to start falling soon.

Worst of all, you were stuck in your shifted form. A mixture of anxiety, paranoia, and hopelessness had caused you to shift by pure instinct, and you couldn't get yourself to calm down enough to go back.

So you just... run. Run down the sidewalk as the rain droplets begin to fall, dodging between pedestrians' legs. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to go somewhere.

The harder the rain fell, the less people were on the streets. Rushing home and ducking into nearby shops to take shelter until the storm eased up. A few brave umbrella wielders kept walking, determined to finish their journey.

Every drop that splashed against your body soaked into your fur, weighing it down and making your running more difficult. You were passing a building when suddenly the door was thrown open aggressively, making you yelp and scramble to a stop.

You watched as a young man staggered out of the building. From the smell and the sounds and the brief peek you got through the door, it was a pub. The man was unsteady on his feet, you wouldn't be surprised if he was absolutely piss drunk right now.

Not wanting to get tangled in his feet, you stopped, stepping back to wait for him to pass. He whistled a tune, fishing a cigarette box out of his pocket and popping one in between his teeth -

-before stopping. And staring.

At you.

Surely he was piss drunk because instead of being disgusted or angry - or anything else you expected, really - he immediately dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground without a care in the world. He crouched in front of you, starting to coo and baby talk.

You were too confused to even process what he was saying - he was too drunk to know what he was saying, either.

Next thing you knew, you were being scooped up into his hands. He continued to coo and talk as he pressed his cheek against your fur.

The sound of car tires drew your attention. You peeked up in time to see car headlights pulling into the parking lot of the pub. At the sight, the man holding you tucked you safely into his hood. You made a sound, but he just giggled and shushed you.

You couldn't complain too much, though. It was warm, and dry.

"Tom, mate, you look like shit."

"And you, Matt, look like the queen."

"You've definitely had too many drinks. Get in the car."

Surprisingly, the drunk man - Tom, it seemed - took care not to smush you against the carseat. Slowly, your panic began to subside. The warmth of the AC and the gentle movements of the car driving down the road eventually lulled you to sleep.

--

You jolted awake when Tom began moving again. The car had stopped, apparently reaching its destination. You couldn't see anything but the dark blue fabric, so you weren't quite sure where you were.

Was this the safest choice you could've made? No. But, in your mind, it was better than the streets.

"Matt. How many bloody drinks did he have?"

"Don't ask me. He wasn't very conversational in the car."

"Fuckin' hell."

Tom's movements stopped for a moment. Then, he was falling. Well, you were both falling. You squeaked as you tumbled out of his hood, rolling onto the carpeted floor below. Whatever conversation had been going on above you stopped.

"Is that... a rabbit?"

You righted yourself, shaking your head to get your ears out of your face. It was a house that you were in, more specifically a living room. Tom was laying on his stomach on a couch. He must have drunkenly flopped down onto it, causing you to fall out of his hood.

Two more men were standing beside the couch. Staring at you in disbelief. You attempted to shrink in on yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

"Edd, the poor thing is soaked. Look at how it's trembling. We can't get rid of it."

"I wasn't planning on it. Jesus, I'm not heartless."

The man named Edd crouched down next to you, gently picking you up in his hands. His fingers smoothed over your head, gently scratching at the base of your ear. Embarrassing as it was, you fucking melted.

"Of course Tom would get drunk and bring an animal home. I'm just glad it's not something rabid."

"I'll go get a towel to dry them off. The poor dear is probably freezing."

While the other man disappeared down a hall, the one holding you carried you over to the kitchen.

"I'm sure you're hungry. Rabbits like carrots, don't they? I don't know how realistic that portrayal is."

You couldn't help but huff at that. It was an annoying stereotype in your opinion - though you did enjoy the taste of carrots regardless.

"Rabbits are herbivores. They'll eat any kind of vegetable or plant you offer them."

Edd set you down on the counter as he opened the fridge.

"Nice of you to join the land of the living, Tord."

The newest addition to the room scared you the most. He was intimidating looking, muscular and mean. His cold eyes were fixed on you.

When he approached, you backed away slightly. Noticing this, he made sure to lift his hand slowly, extending a finger out to you. You watched his hand move cautiously. He slid his finger under your head, gently scratching your chin. To your horror, your back foot thumped against the counter.

You were going to die of embarrassment.

Tord's lips quirked up in a small, amused smile.

"Do I even want to know why there is a bunny in the kitchen?"

"Tom's drunk."

"Ah."

Matt eventually returned with a towel.

The three men absently chatted as Matt gently and thoroughly dried your soaked fur. You were completely relaxed in his hold. He even made sure to be especially careful drying your ears.

Yeah, there were definitely worse things than this.

In your relaxed state, you didn't quite account for just how much you had calmed down. Before you knew it, you had suddenly shifted back into your normal form.

The three men froze. You froze.

"....hi."

The longer the silence stretched out, the more fear built up inside of you. What if they were angry? What if they threw you out? What if they hurt you?

As possibilities ran through your head, tears started to well in your eyes.

"What the fuck."

The dam broke. Tears flooded down your cheeks, sobs catching in your throat.

The three men jumped into action. Matt drew you into his arms, holding you securely.

"Tord! Look what you did!"

"Me?? What did I do??"

"You scared the poor thing! I can feel her trembling."

"I feel like my response was very reasonable."

--

One plate of carrots and ranch later, and your tears had been calmed. Having tired yourself out, you were lying comfortably in Edd's lap in an armchair. Matt and Tord were sitting on the couch. They had moved Tom to a makeshift bed on the floor where they could keep an eye on him until he was sober.

Edd's fingers ran through your hair, smoothing out any knots he found. Occasionally he would scratch at the base of your ears, making you hum happily.

Amongst your tears earlier, Matt had managed to coax your story out of you. Now, they were deciding what to do.

"She doesn't have a handler, Edd. We can't just turn her away."

"I know, Matt. I don't want to kick her out."

The two men looked at Tord expectantly.

"What?"

"No dissenting opinions?"

"Of course not. I'm not a fucking monster."

"What about Tom?"

Edd glanced down at the fourth man.

"He's forfeiting his vote."

With that, Edd gently cupped your cheeks and tilted your head up to look at him. Through the sleepy haze of your vision, you saw him give you a gentle smile.

"What's your vote, bunny? Do you wanna stay here with us?"

Did you? These were four men that you didn't know. Despite that, they had been kinder to you than anyone had been in a long time.

You didn't have to think long about your answer.

You nodded, slow and lazy as you fought against sleep.

Edd laughed softly, settling you back down.

"Get some sleep, love. You're alright now. We've got you.”

Taking those words to heart, you slept better than you had in months.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 20

Old Friends

Summary: While in the Commonwealth, you and Cooper come across another piece of the ghoul's past. This one is a lot more pleasant than the last one.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: mhm. Not a lot? Drinking is mentioned and this deals with grief. Reader is just happy Cooper found a friend. This came from my lil headconnon that Cooper and Nate were in Anchorage together.

Masterlist

"Tell me why you wanted to come all the way up here again?" Cooper grouched from behind you. Dusty had fucked off at some point, off to do whatever deathclaws did, and leaving the couple alone for a while.

"Because I'm curious. Hancock kept mentioning the Minutemen, and I want to meet their General," you tell him with an easy shrug. Your thirst for knowledge and curiosity had gotten them into more trouble than what it's worth most times, and Cooper couldn't help but think that this was another such instance.

"Curiosity killed the cat, ya know," He sneered and took a deep swig from his canteen, golden eyes narrowing when he caught sight of an upcoming town. He cuts his eyes back to you when you spin around and give him that infuriating smirk.

"But satisfaction brought it back," you chirp, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

Thankfully, Concord is pretty much abandoned. They can see evidence of a fight, but it must have happened long enough ago that the wasteland critters had dragged off the bodies. They pass through without any trouble and then past the red rocket before they come to a stop at half-collapsed bridge.

The settlement across the bridge is impressive, to say the least. Tall walls made from scrap surround the small cul-de-sac, and you can spot two lookout towers, one in the front and one near the back. Turrets sit near the weakest spots of the walls, and a barricade has been set up just in front of the large gates that lead inside the settlement. A Minutemen flag flaps high above, letting newcomers know who it belonged to.

Cooper whistles, impressed with the work that's been done. The place was big, smaller than Filly, but had that same wasteland feel to it. You lope forward, excited to see what the town holds.

The guards let the two of you inside without much trouble, and the inside is just as impressive as the outside. Most of the houses have been repaired, and a large building had been set up at the end of the cul-de-sac that held several vendors selling different types of wares. They are soon approached by a man dressed in tan colonial garb, a laser musket slung across his back.

"Welcome to Sanctuary, my name's Preston. Is there any way I can help you two?" He asks, and you introduce yourself and Cooper, shaking the Minutemen's hand.

"We're not from the Commonwealth, so I just wanted to take a look around. Heard about this place over the radio and from Hancock back in Goodneighbor."

Preston nods, a small smile on his lips, "Well, I hope we live up to your expectations. There is always something that needs to be done, though, so we aren't perfect."

Cooper shifts his weight, tuning out the conversation as he looks around. There are settlers everywhere, tending to the gardens that are set up behind a yellow house and the sight of two kids and a dog playing in the dead grass. The sight makes him smirk a little before he turns away, only to choke when his eyes land on a man who Cooper had thought he'd never see again.

There, standing in a pair of old jeans and a white t-shirt, was none other than Nate Card. They had served together in Anchorage and he had even met the man's wife after they'd been discharged.

Cooper is stalking across the settlement before he even realizes it, stopping a couple of feet away from the other man and just staring. Nate notices soon enough and gives him a crooked smile, a little confused.

"Hey. Are you okay there?"

Hearing his voice is the nail in the coffin, and Cooper grins wide at him, "Well, butter by butt and call me a biscuit. That is you, ain't it, Nate."

Nate stares at the Ghoul, brows furrowed. His voice sounds familiar, and his eyes widen when he sees the stained hat and blue button up hidden under the ghoul's duster. He takes a half step forward, "Cooper?"

The ghoul spreads his arms wide, "The one and only."

Nate slams into the ghoul, arms wrapping the lighter man up in a hug before pulling away so that he can look at his friend. He doesn't give a shit that Cooper Howard, soldier turned actor, is a ghoul. They'd gone through hell and back together.

"Damn," Cooper whistles, "How come you ain't pretty like me?"

Nate frowns, arms dropping to his sides, "I should have listened to you, Coop. When you told me about the vaults."

His words make the ghoul's heart sink, and he listens quietly as Nate tells him how they'd tricked the people of Sanctuary Hills, freezing them inside Vault 111. Nate and his son were the only survivors.

"Fuckin' Vault-Tec," Cooper snarls darkly. He remembers the phone call to Nate two centuries ago, telling the other man about no longer trusting Vault-Tec. Nate had told the other man that he and his wife would be okay, that they had a plan in place. Cooper hadn't known that the plan had been a vault.

Both men are startled out of their less than pleasant thoughts when you clear your throat, giving them both an easy smile, "Are you going to introduce me?"

Cooper huff and gestures to you with a hand, "This is _. We've been traveling together for a while."

Nate smiles and offers his hand, introducing himself, "Coop always had a good eye,"

You can't help but blush at his words, peeking over at Cooper to see the ghoul smirking smugly. You roll your eyes at him, though your own lips are curled in an amused curve. You release his hand and step back to stand beside Cooper, "I'll second that."

Nate grins, and then waves the two ofnyou forward, "Come on. I'll show you guys around. We've worked hard to get this place set up."

The sole survivor tell them that he's been topside for about ten years now, give or take a couple of weeks. He's done his best to be a good leader and shape the Commonwealth up from a land full of savages to something almost peaceful. They still had plenty of problems, but they all took it one day at a time.

It's late by the time Nate ends the tour, and he shows you and Cooper the last building. People are congregating around it, and you grin when you realize that the establishment is a bar. You tug Cooper in for a quick kiss and then disappear into the crowd, hands digging for caps.

Nate laughs at their retreating form, and Cooper shares a grin with his old friend. They wander away from the bar, the ghoul following Nate past the back gate and to a small cemetery out back. There aren't too many plots, but the two Cooper spots first already have his heart lerching in his chest.

"I thought you said Shuan lived?"

The other man gave Cooper a look so full of grief that the ghoul had a hard time swallowing. He reached out, setting a hand on Nate's bulky shoulder, "What happened?"

It takes a while, but Nate tells him about the first two years of being on the surface. About finally finding Shuan, deep underground and already 80 years old, dying of lung cancer. About the young boy, a synth that "Father" had created to try and appease Nate. How could the man have said no?

"Synths are created from my son's -Father's- DNA. Shuan started to get sick. Curie and Vault 81 did what they could, but how can you fight cancer in a place like this? When, before the bombs, we couldn't cure it then either."

Cooper hates how broken his friend sounds, and he squeezes the other man's shoulder. Nate sniffs, then swallows harshly, rubbing his face as he looks at the two graves labeled Nora Card and Shuan Card. He clears his throat.

"I'm sorry, Nate. Barb and Janey... they didn't make it either," Cooper rumbles. He wishes that he'd been able to get them out of that god forsaken vault. Give them a proper burial, but there hadn't been the time.

Nate doesn't ask what happened. He can tell that the ghoul didn't want to speak on it. They sit is a moment of silence, of remembrance, before the sole survivor clears his throat and jerks a thumb back at Sanctuary.

"Anyway. Let's have a drink, yeah?"

Cooper and he share a quick grin, and the ghoul adjusts his hat, "Good idea. Outta make sure _'s stayed out of trouble."

*took some creative liberties with the synths here. Thanks for enjoying!*

[babygirl-diaz]

Birthday Boy

Another BuckTommy fic where we're pretending that today is Buck's birthday too!

***

Getting out of the car, Tommy whistled some random tune as he went around to open the backdoor. He smiled when he found his daughter, Eliza, fast asleep in her car seat. The 6-month-old was probably the cutest baby in the entire world with her curly brown hair, her button nose, and her pink lips that she always stuck out before bursting into tears. But maybe Tommy was just biased. She was a safe haven baby found by Evan during one of his shifts. He instantly fell in love with the little bundle of joy and when they found her mother, she turned out to be a 16-year-old who was scared of her orthodox family and hence had decided to abandon the child. Buck and Tommy filed to be emergency foster parents of the little girl and were approved within days. So now here they were, 6 months later, in the process of adopting Eliza.

Tommy carefully took out the car seat and locked the car before taking Lizi inside with him. As he was carefully picking her up from the seat, the little girl opened her eyes and then there was the pout, and Tommy knew what was coming next. Just as he had expected, a loud cry rang through the living room and Tommy immediately tried to quiet Lizi down. "Shhh... It's okay, sweetie, Papa's got you," he cooed to her as he put her over his shoulder and gently rubbed her back. "Awwww... It's okay, it's okay," he continued to coo and soon her cries died down when Tommy started whistling. He couldn't sing for the life of him but he could whistle and Lizi seemed to like that.

Tommy kept rubbing her back as he took her to one of her playpens in the kitchen and put her inside it. She let out garbled sounds and started playing with the big blocks she really seemed to like. Evan always said they had a future architect on their hands, which made Tommy roll his eyes and remind him that architects planned houses, they didn't build them.

"So, today is Daddy's birthday, what should we make for him?" Tommy asked Lizi as he picked out two cake mixes. "Strawberry or chocolate?"

The 6-month-old just blinked at him and Tommy nodded. "You're right, he'll like chocolate better."

Tommy put on his generic "Kiss the Cook" apron and started mixing the batter while whistling randomly.

"Lizi, did you know I met your Daddy when we decided to do something silly and fly right into the eye of a storm to save Grandpa Bobby and Grandma Athena?" He fondly smiled at the memory and looked over at Lizi who was blinking at him again.

"And Daddy almost immediately fell in love with Papa."

Tommy stopped whisking and looked over his shoulder to find Evan standing there with his arms crossed and a smile playing on his lips.

"Lizi, Daddy is a lying liar and he knows it," Tommy said with a roll of his eyes.

Evan moved away from the doorway and made his way over to Tommy with a look in his blue eyes that made Tommy almost melt. Evan wrapped his arms around Tommy's waist and pulled him against his chest. "Lizi, Papa knows it's the truth. He's just scared to admit it."

Tommy relaxed against his boyfriend and tilted his head to the side to let him kiss his neck. "How was your birthday?" He asked.

"It was good. The team got me a cake and then decided to plunge my face into it, saying it was a "Tevan" tradition. Whatever that means," Evan replied and kissed along his shoulder.

"I think Tevan means Tommy and Evan," Tommy replied. "I kinda dig it."

"Of course, you do because you're cheesy AF," Evan chuckled.

"Do not curse in front of our daughter," Tommy playfully chastised his boyfriend.

"That's why I said AF," Evan replied and rested his chin on Tommy's shoulder. "So what are you making?"

"I'm baking a two-tiered chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting," Tommy replied.

"Just how I like it," Evan said. "You know what I like better, though?" He asked.

"I'm going to regret asking this but what?" Tommy asked putting the cake mixture down.

"You under me wearing nothing but your smile," Evan whispered in his ear.

Tommy laughed at that and playfully smacked Evan's arm. "Stop being horny on main and go play with our daughter, birthday boy."

Evan kissed Tommy's cheek before going to the playpen. He picked Lizi up and held her in his arms while cooing to her. Tommy couldn't help but smile as he watched Evan start to dance with Lizi. Lizi squealed happily.

Tommy put the cake in the oven and turned around to look at his cute little family. "Got room for one more?" He asked.

Evan got down on his knee with Lizi still in his arm and extended his hand towards Tommy. "Can I have this dance?"

Tommy laughed and shook his head before giving his hand to Evan. Evan stood up and twirled Tommy around before wrapping his empty arm around his waist. Tommy rested his head on Evan's shoulder as they swayed to silence.

"I didn't know what to get you for your birthday," Tommy admitted. "So I got you an iPad Pro," he added sadly.

"You didn't have to get me anything because everything I want is right here," Evan replied and kissed the top of Tommy's head, before doing the same to Eliza.

[cuffmeinblack]

Encore

Drummer!Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Tags: explicit | public sex | blowjobs

2.2k words

Summary: Garreth always gets worked up after a gig, and tonight is no exception.

A/n: Just a quick one for this week's WW theme: AU. I said I'd do a Drummer!Gar fic ages ago but never got around to it so here's a little smutty one shot instead!

The lights were dim as you tapped your foot impatiently on the ground, gaze fixed on the empty stage in front of you. Not a bad turnout, considering the state of the venue, but their regulars were loyal enough to follow them to even the most dilapidated dive bars. This was a palace in comparison to some of the earlier venues. So many scantily clad young women milled about, some utterly gorgeous, though you knew your boyfriend would only have eyes for you. Sebastian would likely be lapping up the attention later though, as well as other, more unsavoury things.

Finally, the band filed onto the stage to a round of cheers as they began to sound check, still shrouded mostly in darkness. Your heart pounded with anticipation, though you'd seen them perform dozens of times before, the main event was what awaited you after the performance. Sipping your drink, you waited patiently until you saw the ruffled red hair as the lights finally came on, and the onlookers erupted into cheers. Garreth's green eyes scanned the crowd, finding you and flashing you a wide smile before he sat down behind the drum kit.

You hadn't seen him before the gig—in fact it had been a very long week away from him, both of you busy with your jobs and various hobbies. Laying eyes on him now had you all kinds of worked up. He looked fucking fantastic with his effortlessly mussed copper hair, endless freckles that mingled with his various tattoos and the simple black t-shirt he wore that showed every toned muscle of his broad chest. Sebastian was busy pandering to the crowd, flirting with the girls in the front row and strutting around like he owned the place, but Garreth kept his eyes on you and only you. 

"Are you fucking ready?"

The fluffy-haired brunet shouted at the crowd, who responded with a rabid cheer amongst the shrieks and wolf whistles. Garreth gave you a final wink that had your insides squirming before he counted them in and the band launched into their self-titled track. The atmosphere was electric, in no small part due to Sebastian's overexuberance with a microphone, but the whole band was on spectacular form tonight. You downed the rest of your drink and pushed your way into the throng, weaving through sweaty bodies until you were near the front, with an excellent view of Garreth.

You knew all the words by now, even the throaty growls that Sebastian spat out and the backing vocals that Garreth screamed from behind his drums. As they switched tempo to a slower tune, you were thankful for the breather, swaying to the unfamiliar track and finding Garreth staring straight at you with glittering eyes. His hair stuck to his glistening forehead and chest heaved, but it didn't stop him from giving his performance everything. As the song started to build to the chorus you realised why he'd been keeping his gaze locked on you the entire time—he belted the harmony of the chorus about a man hopelessly in love, and you realised this was one of his. A song for you.

Your breath caught in your throat as the realisation dawned, apparently presenting on your face as Garreth smiled as he sang. As the last chord rang out, Sebastian thanked the crowd for coming, to a cheer for more—you'd usually join in, but all you could think about was getting your hands on the redhead currently pouring water over his head and drenching his already damp t-shirt. Fuck. You were pretty sure he was doing that mainly for your benefit, no matter how hot the musky bar was. It was certainly having the intended effect as a ripple of tension shot through your abdomen and by the time he looked back at you, pushing the curtain of wet hair out of his face, you were practically salivating.

As the band carried on with an encore, you snaked your way back out of the pit to stand at the side of the stage, eagerly awaiting their finish. Finally, finally, as Garreth stood up and bounded off the stage, he made a beeline for you and picked you up effortlessly in his strong arms. You were vaguely aware of the rest of the band being intercepted by fans, but Garreth carried you through the grotty door with far too many layers of paint that led to the backstage area. In reality, it was a poorly furnished kitchenette, but he didn't intend on stopping there. 

"Are you going to put me down at any point, Gar?" you laughed, kissing his fiery locks.

"When I get you somewhere quiet," he rasped, his voice hoarse and dripping with lust.

He always got wound up after a set, the adrenaline pushing his already rampant sex drive into high gear, and you were happy to be on the receiving end. Post-gig sex with Garreth was incredible, no matter where it ended up taking place. He finally put you down in a dark corner near a fire exit; not the most romantic spot, but it was quiet. Your heart pounded into the silence, impossibly loud.

"That song…," you sighed, before his lips crashed into yours.

He hummed in assent, confirming that yes, it was for you, but there would be time to talk about it later. Your fingers threaded through his damp hair, tongue slipping inside his hungry mouth as you succumbed to his desire. He tasted of beer and sweat with lingering undertones of the single cigarette he smoked before every gig; a sort of ritual he'd performed ever since the band started touring, but it was so Garreth and not at all unpleasant. His musky scent sent your head spinning, the overwhelming urge to run your tongue over his skin writhing inside you.

"You look…beautiful tonight," he hummed as his mouth trailed down your neck with gentle nips at your flushed skin.

Your skirt was already above your hips, his hands working to rid you of the enticing lingerie he wouldn't get to appreciate before it hit the floor, absolutely drenched in your arousal. Next came the zip on his trousers, freeing his deliciously girthy cock, already hard and throbbing with desire.

"Fucking hell, Gar. You were incredible…"

And he was. There was nothing quite like watching your boyfriend effortlessly twirling his sticks and throwing you cheeky smiles between songs to get your blood pumping. Garreth let out a soft growl against your neck, gripping your behind with both hands and lifting you clean off the floor. He had you pinned against the cold wall with his weight as if you were nothing, a frail waif of a thing as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. The way he usually threw you around in bed was nothing to the frantic manhandling you received now, all bites and bruises and searing kisses.

"I've wanted to do this...all week, you have no idea…," he whispered in your ear.

"I think I have some idea."

"Yeah?" he asked, his cock probing teasingly at your entrance. 

A whimper left your mouth, your heart fluttering and core throbbing for his attention.

"Fuck me, Gar, please."

His performance had been the foreplay, and with nothing more he thrusted inside you in one swift motion, the satisfying burn only lasting a second before any discomfort was muted by the utterly incredible feel of him inside you. His cock pressed deep, hitting you just right as he pulled you down hard onto him with a groan. The perfect fit, he filled you completely and perfectly. The gutteral moan that clawed its way out of his throat indicated he'd needed this just as much as you.

"God, you're so fucking wet…you weren't joking."

All you could manage in reply was a whimper as he started thrusting in earnest; a slow grinding that teased every nerve ending you possessed, your head lolling back against the wall with sheer pleasure. His grip on your backside was bruising, kneading the flesh in rhythm with his hips as his mouth attacked the sensitive skin of your neck. He'd mark you up prettily as he always did, making his claim for all to see. You were his, and his alone.

You managed to look down at him with hooded eyes, just as he relinquished his mouthful of skin with a gentle bite. His own eyes were dark, glazed, with a fire behind them that threatened to burn into your very soul. He picked up the tempo, his arms beginning to shake but still fucking you into the wall with everything he had. It was working wonderfully, your blood rushing to hour heat with an intense swell of arousal, fluttering around his cock in anticipation of your impending release.

"Yes…," you managed to gasp faintly.

"That's it baby, I can feel you getting close."

His sultry, rasping voice sent tingles across your body, your lips finding his in a desperate kiss as you fell apart. Garreth groaned and pinned you hard against the brick, carrying on shallow thrusts as you rode out your orgasm and gasped into his mouth, gripping his hair for dear life. Your ears rang with the intensity of your climax, left as a shaking and limp mess being held up by Garreth's body.

"That feel good?" he asked with a grin.

You nodded through bleary eyes with a lopsided smile as Garreth finally let you down onto the floor, the rippling muscle in his arms twitching in protest. He was still hard, desperately rutting against your hip with renewed vigour; he attacked your collarbone with his mouth as you tried to catch your breath. Without another thought, you dropped to the ground, ignoring the state of the floor and focusing on his cock; red and dripping with your mixed arousal. With a salacious moan and drawn out swipe of your tongue along his shaft, you watched his reaction.

"Yes…"

Garreth sighed as you ran your tongue over his head, lapping up the beads of precum with another moan for his pleasure, though you thoroughly enjoyed sucking his cock. Taking him in your mouth with a gentle swirl around the tip, you were about to end his world with a mind-shattering suction until you heard voices approaching. Looking up at Garreth with wild eyes, he stared back at you with a finger on his lips and a gentle tug of your hair to keep going. With an upward curl of your lips, you took him deeper, teasing his length with gentle pressure as the intruders stood nearby, lighting up cigarettes with the telltale spark of a lighter. 

"Too cold outside, they won't grass on us for lighting up in here."

A grunt of agreement and the men lapsed into conversation, utterly dull and not worth paying attention to when you had much more interesting things to focus on in front of you. Garreth's breath grew heavier as he controlled the urge to moan, but you wanted those delicious sounds echoing in the hallway, company be damned. With a firm grip at the base of his cock, you dipped your head to take him into your throat, sucking hard on the way back. Garreth's hips twitched, his grip on your hair growing tighter with every movement. 

He tasted divine, and looked even better with his flushed skin and pink, kiss-swollen lips. You ran a hand up his t-shirt, over his taut stomach, raking his burning skin with your nails as his cock twitched eagerly in your mouth. With a teasing smirk, you popped your mouth off his cock, resuming the agonisingly slow swipes of your tongue as he looked down at you with silent, begging eyes. Yes, it was slightly cruel, but it was so fun to toy with him when he couldn't even protest; the two voices were still nattering on in the background.

Your plan fell apart when Garreth took matters into his own hands, gripping your head with both hands and sliding his cock into your mouth. The surprise intrusion made you gag, but he didn't stop, pushing himself further down your throat with every thrust. You knew he was close, desperate for his release; his breath stuttered and legs shook as you braced yourself. He pulled back at the last second and spilled his load into your mouth, coating your tongue as you let out a satisfied moan before you could stop yourself.

Your hand pumped the last drops of his cum onto your tongue, aware that the voices had stopped talking and Garreth was too far gone to pay them any mind. 

"I think we've interrupted something," one of the men muttered.

The other chuckled, their footsteps receding into the distance with the creak of a door.

"I thought they'd never leave," Garreth sighed, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped against his arm on the wall.

"Didn't stop you from nearly choking me, did it?"

Garreth gave you an apologetic look and a cheeky smile, as if to say, 'can you blame me?'. You swatted his arm playfully as you stood up, wiping your lips with your thumb with a low hum. You took a minute or two to redress and fix your hair until you were finally ready to join your other friends, walking hand in hand with Garreth back towards the bar.

"So, that song…"

"You like it?" he grinned.

"It was beautiful," you said, kissing his cheek.

"Of course it is, it's about you."

[gaoau]

慈

uncarved wood note — happy birthday bass word count — 1.2k

next.

from the top of Wangshu Inn, Xiao traces his eyes over rivulets and rocks, the imperfect beauty of nature he sometimes allows himself to indulge in. with a quiet sigh, he looks down at the wooden statue on his lap. although unfinished and broken, with half a beak and splinters he keeps brushing off, it's charming. he's seen birds of this rich, warm auburn color in the wild multiple times. it's truly beautiful, almost a replica that could start chirping in his palms. 

he's the first to admit he lacks knowledge in wood-carving, so he won't speak on what he doesn't know of, but he nonetheless sees the care and expertise this small statue has been made with. unfinished, imperfect, in-between a fallen tree and a soaring bird.

it's the most he deserves.

humanity is fascinating, albeit fragile and fleeting. he's always been quite curious about these creatures, about the undeniable beauty in their drive and senses. something so finite, a whistled tune gone with the wind, half a second of blinking in an abyss of change. Xiao, however, isn't human—he's an animal, a warrior, a weapon, and he would never fault anyone who rightfully uses his capabilities to clean up weeds in a garden.

his thoughts drift as he listens to the rustling leaves blending with the birds' singing. he recalls the look in that human's eyes as they blinked up at him—whether in awe or horror, he's never sure. he was quite surprised to find them so grateful, so eager to grin at him, so nervous and flushed as they insisted he took the statue.

he wonders who or what it was planned to be for. it certainly wasn't for him. it was just a coincidence, merely a roll of the dice which landed him on an open field where they were carving. the statue is his now, having ended up in his possession, because where else would something rough and not worth much find a home if it's not in his hands?

[Name] knows better than to zone out in an open field, and although they would warn their friends to stay alert, they rarely take their own advice. there's no danger, of course, and if something comes, they'll be able to react in time. they don't know how long they've been here, sitting on the grass, carving away at the piece of cuihua wood they've been carrying since their trip to Mondstadt.

judging by the state of the bird coming to life in their hands, it's been well over two hours. as they debate if they should take a break (which they should), they barely manage to catch the sound of an abyss mage approaching. by the time they do react, their movements are sloppy and frantic.

they spring to their feet, hopping away to put some distance between the two. the bird statue they've been steadily chipping away at slips from their fingers and bounces on the grass. they cringe, but they'd rather concern themself with not getting killed for now. disoriented, they ready their stance to fight back.

miraculously, the archons seem to be smiling down on [Name] today. they gawk in awe at the man that steps in before them, swinging his spear in a swift, skillful movement to strike down the threat. the air leaves their lungs in one quiet breath of, "woah…" as they scan the stranger's back, so broad and intimidating. from fungal rot building kaleidoscopes inside tree bark to intoxicatingly fragrant flowers, they have never seen a person so phenomenally beautiful.

not to mention that he just saved them from their own stupidity.

when he turns to assess the damage, [Name] feels their mouth go dry. the sun stares back at them, golden and entrancing in a blank face. once he finds this human is safe and sound, his work here is done and Xiao decides to take his leave. he stops, however, the broken bird statue on the grass catching his eye.

he takes it upon himself to pick it up and hand it back to its maker. they don't budge, far too stunned to even register him stepping closer. "you dropped this," he tries, hoping his voice won't scare them further.

it works. "oh!" [Name] shakes their head to rattle their brain back into consciousness. they almost recoil when they see Xiao expectantly waiting for them to grab the piece of wood. "oh, thank you." their fingers fumble, but they manage to take it, hands trembling.

"it's my job," he replies bluntly, "thanks aren't necessary."

their tongue fumbles, too. "still, though!" they exclaim a little louder than intended. the blood pumping from their pounding heart rushes to their cheeks and neck. it's so warm and the breeze does little to ease their nerves. "thank you. you saved my ass—i mean! you saved me, so… thanks. for saving me."

Xiao barely blinks, quiet. he really doesn't need any thanks. he's only doing what he always has.

at his daunting silence, [Name] hurries to come up with anything. "here." they offer the bird he just handed to them, and it only dawns on them a second too late. it's not only unfinished, but its beak snapped off when they dropped it earlier. they swallow the lump of embarrassment in their throat. "it's… not worth much—" an understatement, "—but as a token of my gratitude. thank you for saving me."

for a moment, Xiao considers that the look in [Name]'s eyes might not be fear and apprehension after all. yes, he admits, he's an animal, but even animals understand kindness and gratitude.

[Name] feels cold sweat running down their forehead and accumulating in their palms. if the ground would swallow them, they'd be forever grateful. they take a step closer to him, almost daring to force the bird into his hands. "i know it's not very pretty as it is and the beak just snapped off and it's not even finished, but please, take it. please."

it feels like he doesn't have much of a choice. Xiao nods his head (and [Name] swears they heard what they think can be called a small hum). when he takes the wooden statue, his fingers grazing over theirs, he catches sight of fading scars littering their skin like badges of knowledge.

his eyes flicker back to theirs. with a small piece of advice to stay alert, he vanishes into a green cloud before [Name] can get another word in. they take a moment to recompose themself, fanning their burning cheeks with their hand. a second longer and they might have forgotten how to breathe.

Xiao never knew wood could be so beautiful, with its intricate ripples unique to each slab. it's curious, he thinks, the same way he finds humans to be so interesting. call it pity, love, compassion, curiosity—he would rather not speak too much on it.

he's willing to come to anyone who seeks his help, that much is true, that much he has been doing for millenia. the bird statue, the gratitude he understands and appreciates, is rough and incomplete—or so he tells himself, because he can't find himself fitting anywhere else. he hides in the gaps of stillness and quietness, afraid that once he steps out, the trees will rot in his presence and no one will ever carve statues out of such intricately beautiful wood again.

[writesick-lover]

Merry Christmas, i miss you

Clark Kent x Reader

===============

So what if I call,

And you pick up the phone

And I use this holiday

To make my way

To your ghost

===============

a/n: roughly inspired by the song Merry Christmas, i miss you by Alex Crichton. Literally have been listening to these type of songs the whole holiday and also got into Smallville… So why not mix it up together right? :D Plus my obession w Clark Kent aka THE TOM WELLING is growing so you all better stay tuned!!! I planned to post this during the Christmas time but got caught up between baking and watching old movies, oops. Anyways, hope you enjoy!!!

summary: You and Clark have fallen out of touch for a long time, not only because of the distance between you two but also because of your feelings for him you failed to hide so well. Yet, after you’re left alone on the Christmas Eve and reminiscing about the old times, you can’t help but think about calling him. What if he picks up?

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

It was the 24th of December, the streets of Metropolis covered with white snow warmed by the yellowish streetlamps and Christmas decoration. The whistle of the cold evening wind has been playing through your closed windows, which despite the isolation, could not contain the ecstatic laughter of the families and friends walking beside the building you lived in.

You could not relate to them, while you were safely covered by your warm blanket, your fingers wraping around the inviting heat of your teacup as you watched your 5th Christmas movie today. You were warm, safe and sound, and yet you felt the worst when it came to the mentioned people on the street. Your lips tightened into a straight line as you glanced at a small Christmas tree you bought already decorated, reminding you only of another tradition you were missing out on. Your gaze slid under the coffee table it was sitting on. No presents.

You barely had the time to pack the things you have bought yourself “for Christmas” and afterall, it was only for you, so why waiting until the Christmas morning? Why not already use them if you need them so much? You do not have presents for anyone else, because there is simply no one to celebrate with. It’s been a year since you left your hometown, your family making plans for Christmas you could hardly follow with your first year on University, away from your friends and loved ones. Your friends.

In college, you did not have many friends. At least you didn’t think so. You have been talking with most of your class, but you barely knew about their families nor crashed at their homes at least once during your highschool years. The feeling was mutual. On the other hand, you have befriended a small group of four kids from the grade below. It happened quite fast. At first you met Lana, your new colleague you were supposed to teach the art of waitering after your first year of working in the small coffee shop that opened in Smallville. Then you noticed a tall guy with bright blue eyes, visiting every single time during Lana’s shift, sitting in the corner and watching her with those piercing eyes behind the rose-colored glasses. He always came unnoticed by her and disappeared just as fast, even you didn’t quite catch him leave most of the time, just collected the payment he left on the table, secretely slipping the tips into Lana’s pocket. Then he started bringing friends as well, feeling more confident around them, so much so he actually spoke with Lana too. You couldn’t help but smile behind the counter as they chattered her shift away, only for you to freeze, the piercing blue gaze catching yours. But you looked away, dismissing the feeling immediately.

“I’m Chloe! I noticed you were friends with Lana and you are always there whenever we visit, doing all of her work while we entrtain her, so sorry about that… I just noticed you actually go to the same school as us! Which grade are you in?” A small hand has stopped you in the middle ofthe full corridor, dragging you away from the bumping bodies and close to a bunch of lockers. You opened your mouth for a second, only to close it in the next, the surprise of the suddent encounter mixing with confusion. You stood there for a short while, processing what this blonde girl just hauled at you but then you cleared your throat, an honest smile plastering on your face. After that, you found yourself next to Lana, chit-chating both of your shifts away by the nearby table, already claimed by the growing gang. And if Lana wasn’t there, you still stood there, talking your heart out for eternity.

You smiled subconciously. You enjoyed those days a lot, but not enough to treasure them as much as you would have right now. And then there was Clark. At first you took him as a friend. That one friend who has an enormous crush on Lana. But it was once that Lana was not at work for a few weeks, that Clark Kent walked into the café as usual, sitting down by the table in the front as he always did and something felt different. You went on about your day, feeling light tingles on your back. And everytime you turned around to find their source, you got stuck in the neverending blue of Clark’s eyes, examining your every move. You felt heat coming to your cheeks as you looked away, a shy smile already playing on your lips, without you actually realizing it. Jeez, what was he onto?

You did not say anything, occassionally meeting his gaze to exchange a small grin even the day after, and the day after that one as well. Even after Chloe and Pete arrived later on some of these days, his eyes stayed trained on you. When it was the whole gang, you actually picked up the courage to stop by. Despite the shivers you got from Clark’s gaze. You hoped he managed to blink at least once in a while.

“Uh-oh. I think you have some angry customers to get to, Y/n. You shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Clark smirked as he sipped on his smoothie. Your eyes focused on him. “Then maybe you shouldn’t keep talking, my, obviously, not so angry customer,” you retorted with a smirk. “And what are they paying you for exactly?” Clark called after you with a laugh as you made your way to other tables, making you turn around and send daggers his way. “Hey! Don’t give me that look!” You saw him put his hands up in defeat before you turned around, focusing on getting back to work. Yet, you couldn’t help the smile creeping on your face despite getting yelled at by the unsatisfied customer in front of you. You noticed that smile stayed on your face until you closed the whole café, Clark long gone with your friends. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around in the dark, a small yelp escaping your lips.

Clark was standing in front of you again, in the middle of the sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he stared you down. “Jeez, Clark, you scared me!” You fussed, only to be cut off by his giggle. “Sorry Y/n, I just went on a walk and realized you were still closing up sooo… Why not give you a company? Besides, it’s really getting dark out here at this hour,” he scratched the back of his neck as he walked in closer, his hand extending towards you. You held your breath in as it neared your arm, only to miss it by an inch and falling on the cold steel of the entrance door. He pulled it towards him, the metal clinging on the quiet street, to make sure it was locked. “Ready?” He smiled at you, small dimples showing on each corner of his mouth, so small you could miss them. Unless you were staring as much as you did in that moment. His eyebrow shoot up in question, making you breathe out a quiet “yeah” before his hand finally moved to yours, taking it and dragging you away from the lonely streets. Your pace slowed down as you strolled away from the town and towards the small houses and farms nearby, his body staying close to yours the whole time, up until he had to leave you at your front porch.

“Y/n” he asked, making you turn away from your front door. You happily walked back to him, feeling his closeness again as you waited for what he had to say. “I-“ he inhaled sharply before cuting himself off. You tilted your head slightly, curious as to why he tensed up all of a sudden. “I- You know I’m just a phonecall away, right?” He said, his gaze getting lost in something behind you. “Of course, I do,” you smiled cheerfully, your smile falling a bit as his worried eyes met yours. You realised he was serious.

“Don’t worry. Look I know there are some weird things going around in this town, but I promise I’ll be careful,” you explained yourself, his eyes still not leaving yours, his pupils almost swallowed by the bright blue around. “And I will call you if anything is wrong. On that I can even pinkie promise,” you stuck out your pinkie, watching as Clark exhaled, his whole body slumping a little as he finally calmed down. He tied his pinkie with yours, squeezing it slightly. “Deal. Pinkie promise,” he smiled, the spark coming back to his eyes.

He walked you home a few nights afterwards. And maybe it was the way you could be so naive sometimes, or just the fact that no one has done that for you like ever, but you started to believe that maybe it didn’t have to be Lana, who he visited the coffeee shop for. But with summer, everything changed. It was a few weeks before your graduation. You started to take more walks around Smallville, the reality of leaving it behind sinking in, as you knew you will be moving for university in Metropolis after the summer break. The sun was slowly setting, casting colorful beams on the houses and shops of the small town. The bright orange reflected from the windows on the empty street, except two people standing in front of the café, their bodies close to each other. You could recognize the tall figure with dark messy black hair anywhere, and the small one with long brushed brown hair too. Lana and Clark were standing in front of the shop, Clark’s arm gently rubbing Lana’s as she laughed, a magic spell creating a smile on Clark’s lips as well. You froze, your heart sinking deeper with every second you stood there, watching them. That was until Clark finally caught your gaze, his eyes widening, but by that time you were on your merry way home, holidng in the tears you wish you didn’t have to deal with in the first place. That was the last time you had a proper interaction with Clark, your last days fading into one as you slowly had to say goodbye to the town you grew up in, along with its folks.

And now you were here, alone on Christmas Eve, wishing you could have your friends nearby, wishing for at least a bit of closeness. Wishing for Clark to show up at your door so you don’t have to be alone in the dark, taking your hand and taking a stroll in the cold weather before he’ll have to leave you by the front door again. It was just a wish, just a small prayer to hear his voice. Because he was just a phonecall away. You paused. You couldn’t possibly call him, not after such a long time. But if there was something going on, you should call, you promised him.

No. No way. He definitely must be busy, especially on Christmas.

But what if? What if you call? And he picks up?

And that was enough for you to grab your phone, searching for his number, dialing it faster than you could realize what you were actually doing. Only when the loud beep ringed through the room, you realized you were calling him and he might not pick up. And what’s worse, he actually might pick up.

“Hello?”

His voice came out of the speaker, clear as ever, just as you remembered it in your memories. “Clark?” You asked, face-palming yourself afterwards. “Yeah, Y/n, what’s up?” He asked, confusion painting his voice. You stayed quiet. You brain got clouded by so many questions, so many things you had to say but didn’t know how. “Y/n? Are you there?” He spoke again, taking you back to reality. “Of course, yes, I am here,” you spoke fast, only to fall silent again. But this time you took your thoughts one at a time. “How are you Clark?” A sigh came from the other line, making your heart ache. “I’m okay, how about yourself?”

“I-I guess I am okay,” you answered, but your lie could be smelled from miles away. “Is that the reason you called me? ‘Cause you guess you were okay? Or you just wanted to know that I am fine?” He retorted with a snort, his usual sassy comments showing up, just like during your old times. “No, I mean yes, I wanted to know how you were doing after…” you shifted on the couch, trying to find the right words. “After such a long time,” you sighed, recieving the same sigh from the other line too. “Y/n, I don’t-“

“But the reason I called,” you cut Clark off, not ready to hear what he had to say. At least not yet. “Is that I guess not everything is okay. And… You said you’re just a phonecall away,”

There was the quiet on Clark’s part, but if it was still the Clark you knew, you also knew it was because of his bright smile. “That’s true. So? How can I be of service?” You chuckled. “I suppose I am alone and could use some company. It’s quite lonely here in Metropolis, but you must think I’m crazy,” a smile did not leave your face as you began to talk, a sudden warmth taking over your whole body. “You’re in Metropolis?” Clark seemed genuinelly surprised, although where else would you be? “Weren’t you supposed to come to Smallville for the holidays?” He asked and now you were the puzzled one. “Hold on. You’re not in Smallville?” You asked back, earning a sigh from Clark. “Nope, I’m in Metropolis, at the centre, where the big bright Christmas tree blinds innocent passers-by, how about you?”

“I’m home, alone, staring at the pathetic copy of what’s supposed to be a Christmas tree, knowing Santa won’t like it at all,”

“Well, there are already presents under this one. Maybe I will leave you some,”

“You better. I’ll be there in 10,” you exclaimed, already rummaging through your clothes.

“Okay, okay,” his laugh rang between the four walls like a melody.

“Clark?” You managed to catch him before he hung up.

“Yeah?”

“I missed you,” you smiled, knowing he smiled too. And in just a few minutes, you will be able to see that smile for real again.

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

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Thank you for all the support and let me know if you want a part two!

I might have something on my mind :D