JKR

Assigned to take down a rival mercenary, the mission should have been simple except the target turned out to be invulnerable. No matter how many times he’s shot, stabbed, or blown sky-high, Wade Wilson just won’t stay dead. And worse, he’s decided that the person trying to kill him is the love of his life.

Mr. Wade “Deadpool” Wilson, self-proclaimed romantic and professional nuisance, has a habit of showing up uninvited. One day it’s a bouquet of black Delilahs left at the apartment door in Gotham, the next it’s a card that reads: “Hey babe, instead of stabbing me in the neck, how about giving me your heart?”

You can just hear his voice through the card that voice drips with that sickly-sweet tone that makes every muscle twitch with irritation. The urge to rip out his vocal cords is strong, but they’d just grow back probably stronger. So instead, a katana through his heart will have to do. Of course, he only grins and say, “Or you can have my heart, that’s fine too!”

People whisper that the two of you are a couple. They say the matching masks and suits are proof. They’re wrong. The orange-and-black armor is an original design, crafted by a mentor long before Deadpool ever crossed paths with you. Yet he insists on teasing, his mask’s bug eyes widening as he suggests, “What if you changed your colors to red and black?” Absolutely not. Training with Lady Shiva in the frozen tundra for three months would be better to that humiliation.

Deadpool, in his twisted logic, thinks every fight is foreplay. Every time a blade sinks into his chest, he makes a heart shape with his hands and coos, “My heart always beats for you, babe.” The bastard even tries to lean in for a kiss mid-fight.

Killing him is impossible. The bounty office won’t take the contract back, and there’s no known way to end him permanently. So, reluctantly, a truce forms one that somehow turns into a dating?

Dates with Deadpool are never normal. They usually involve mercenary work: sniping corrupt businessmen mid-dinner, slicing through hired goons, and drug lords. He doesn't have to slow down for you because you’re always up to speed, he also love see you covered in blood, what its hot his words not mine. When he leans in again, you block him with a glare.

“There’s blood on you,” comes the stern reply.

“Come on, it makes it hotter!” he whines.

Against all logic, one kiss turns into two, and somehow that leads to his crummy apartment where the diet consists of cheese puffs and instant ramen. Cleaning up after him feels disturbingly domestic, but someone has to make real food before his stomach mutinies.

As he devours a plate of waffles, he looks up with that ridiculous grin.

“Are we married?” he asks through a mouthful.

A butter knife becomes a makeshift dagger, flying past his head becoming friends with drywall

“Totally married! Can I be the bride?” he laughs.

Tags: fluff, mild cursing, lowkey a cornball fic but still enjoyable, Dante only has eyes for you (and maybe some stank eyes for the chud tryna steal his girl)

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Sitting at the bar, chowing down on his delectable strawberry Sunday, the white haired boy couldn’t help but notice the thug that was talking to his beautiful girlfriend.

It started out as a simple conversation, and Dante let it slide. “I like your shirt,” or whatever unfunny one-liners the guy threw at you to try and make you laugh. Of course, Dante knows he’s the only person able to make you laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt, but he was still sad when you giggled (even if it was only a bit) at his clearly unfunny jokes.

Now, all the weirdo is talking about to you are really bad pick-up lines to try and get you to come to his place.

For your sake, and mostly his, he figured that it was time to finally step in and be the heroic figure that would save you from you certain demise; AKA getting kidnapped by this creep.

if there's one thing enjin will forever love doing, it's teasing the hell out of you. enjin x reader!!

enjin has a multitude of petnames from you, and with every day that passes, you swear each and every one of them becomes more absurd.

you had grown used to semiu snickering and zanka gagging every time he called for you — names like sweet cheeks, little lady, pretty thing, buttercup, princess — but the name he calls you by today? you're positive it can't get any more egregious than this.

"bugaboo? enjin, please tell me i've misheard you."

"hahh? what's wrong with bugaboo?!"

he yelps when you smack his arm before the sound transforms into a hearty cackle, and you resist the urge to smack him again and instead grip his arm firmly

"you are such a jackass! call me that in public and i'll turn you inside-out."

enjin has hearts for eyes when you tell him that, grinning with all his teeth as his fingers tap rhythmically against the steering wheel in front of him. he's driving leisurely today, for once, but the only reason for it was because he wanted to talk with you longer.

"don't say that stuff to me, bugaboo. ya'know it turns me on—yeeeeowch! you smack hard, lady!"

"the kids are sleeping in the back—"

"pshhh, they've heard me say worse," he snickers, and you shake your head in disbelief, flustered and speechless more than ever as you sit back in your seat with a huff

"you're so....ugh." you grumble, and enjin doesn't hesitate to lean over the center console and press a hard kiss onto your cheek. you whine, trying to push him off, but he just presses another one onto your forehead before pulling back

"—i have a colorful selection of nicknames for you, there has to be at least one that you like." he says, and when you don't respond, his eyes light up

"ohh so that's how it is? which one is it?! tell me!" he demands eagerly, but you merely look out the window and ignore him. unluckily for you, enjin loves a good challenge.

"all right then. we've got a bit of a ride ahead of us, so don't think i won't get it out of you, babydoll." he teases, but you merely roll your eyes, squinting to keep a lookout on the road since enjin would rather stare at you than be a responsible driver.

—unfortunately, your boyfriend was equally persistent as he was annoying (which was very much), and he knew you like no other. so, when he finally says the word pretty girl while reciting his long list and sees your lips twitch in his peripheral, his entire face lights up as if he's discovered something sacred and special.

"pretty girl? you like that?" he questions, smooth voice sending shivers down your spine, and when you mistakingly stammer, his eyes sharpen like a predator finding its prey

"aww, don't pout, pretty girl! pretty girl, pretty girl, my pretty girl, the prettiest girl," enjin coos, and your face is positively on fire. enjin's ridiculously loud laughter eventually stirs rudo from his sleep, who sits up with a confused mumble while zanka continues drooling all over the younger cleaner's shoulder — on the other hand, you keep one arm braced against the door so you can get out the moment the truck rolls to a stop

"wha...what's so funny?" rudo slurs sleepily, but enjin only grins in response, yelling at zanka to wake up as he yanks his keys out and chases after you. you're speed walking towards the entrance of hq after prompty exiting the truck the second it stopped, but enjin is quicker, coming from behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind

"you little—" you start, but enjin spins you around in his arms before you can cuss him out, and instead you squeal and tighten your hold on him

"what was that, pretty girl?" he questions with that handsome smirk that sends your heart racing, and the only thing you can do is hide your face in his neck as he throws his head back and laughs at you—again.

YOUR WIFE AND HUSBAND FORCING YOU TO GO TO BED!!

Firelord!Zuko x ambassador gn!reader x Fire empress!Mai

Life as an ambassador is a constant cycle of paperwork, duty, and more paperwork. Yet, there is no resentment only pride and honor. The trust placed by both husband and wife is sacred, and it is the ambassador’s solemn duty to restore the Fire Nation to its former glory. Every document signed, every treaty written, every historical record restored is a step toward redemption. Ink stains mark the hands like badges of service, each stroke of the brush helping to rebuild the Earth Kingdom and mend the wounds left by old the Fire Lord’s reign.

Sleep could wait. The warmth of the bed, the comfort of beloved arms, the soft touch of gentle fingers all of it called like a siren’s song. Zuko’s strong arms could easily pull anyone into a peaceful slumber, his body radiating heat like a living furnace. Mai’s delicate fingers could soothe away any lingering tension, her quiet presence both calming and commanding. But duty came first. The nation came first. Love could wait until the ink dried.

“Firefly, how long will you keep us waiting?” Zuko’s soft, husky voice broke through the haze of concentration. “Please come to bed. It’s cold without you,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of playful complaint. The sight of his tousled black hair and tired golden eyes almost made you falter. Almost.

“Just a couple more documents to sign, beloved,” came the weary reply, a hand raised dismissively toward the king.

Then swoosh! A dagger sliced through the air, embedding itself in the wall mere inches from your hand. The ink jar trembled. The ambassador froze.

“My dear ambassador,” came Mai’s cold, firm voice, “it is an official order from your Empress to come to bed.”

You didn't dare turn around. Zuko sighed, attempting to defuse the tension. “Mai-flower, don’t you think that’s a little cruel?”

But Mai’s mind was made up. “I won’t call you again, Ambassador. Next time, I will not miss.”

A gulp. A quick extinguishing of the lantern. “Yes, my beloved,” came the shaky response. Terrifying, yes but also utterly captivating.

Robes slipped away as you climbed into bed, settling between the two of them right where you belonged. Zuko’s arms wrapped around you both, his warmth enveloping you and Mai completely. Mai’s fingers found their way into your hair, her touch softer now, though her eyes still glinted with mischief.

“How come you listen to her and not me?” Zuko grumbled, his lips pressed together in an almost pout.

“Because you’re far too soft,” Mai replied smoothly. “A delicate hand is no match for a sharp blade.”

Zuko chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “At least stop trying to murder our love.”

Mai only stuck out her tongue playfully. “They’re into it.”