pillowpascal

[pillowpascal]

HERE COMES THE BRIDE Logan Howlett x Reader (4.5k words)

SUMMARY | You are in the wedding of Jean and Scott, accompanied of Logan. But he looks uncomfortable every time his eyes stop on you for some reason. WARNINGS | Repressed feelings, convo about future, talks of pregnancy, drunk confessions, a bit angst, LOGAN MADLY IN LOVE. RATING | Teen + NOTES | This one is sooooo cute, I love writing this scene. Hope you guys enjoy. Also, I wrote these hearing "Knockin' On Heaven's Door by Bod Dylan" you guys should try. And least but not less important, i'm writing another smut that I will share soon, xoxo.

Logan despised weddings. It wasn’t the vows or the cheesy speeches that made him bristle; it was the way they brought his buried emotions to the surface. Watching couples promise their lives to each other was like pouring salt into a wound, especially when you were nearby, looking at him with those eyes that always made him think of the one thing he shouldn’t: the possibility of you and him.

Jean and Scott? They were perfect for each other—no one would argue that. Their love was something out of a storybook, and tonight, it was on full display for everyone to see. Logan tried to ignore the tightness in his chest as he stood beside you, struggling with thoughts he’d kept locked away for far too long. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself standing next to you at a wedding, wondering what it would be like if it were the two of you at the altar instead.

"These heels are killing me." You muttered under your breath, wobbling slightly as you tried to maintain your balance.

Logan couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. You were hopelessly out of place in those shoes, and it was almost funny how much you hated them.

"No one’s forcing you to wear 'em, you know." He pointed out, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you struggle.

"But every woman here is wearing them!" You retorted, your voice laced with frustration as you rubbed your temple.

Logan’s gaze swept over the crowd, and for once, you were right. Every woman seemed to be tottering around in high heels, though he much preferred the sight of you in your usual sneakers.

"Most girls 'round here know how to walk in them." He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shot him a withering glare, but the annoyance didn’t reach your eyes. "Watch it, Logan."

He chuckled again, unable to resist the urge to tease you. You were trying so hard to keep up with the others, but it was obvious you were out of your element. He liked that about you—how you didn’t fit into the mold of what was expected, how you were unapologetically yourself. Just you.

"I hate you." You grumbled in a calm demeanor as you sip your champagne. You face blunt as a white canvas.

"No, you don't." Logan responded, tone just as calm as yours as he brings a glass cup of whiskey into his lips, mirroring you.

His eyes traced the lines of your face, the way your hair framed your features, the way the dress clung perfectly to your body. It was driving him crazy how stunning you looked tonight, and he cursed himself for noticing. And yes, he stoled two or three glances to your bare back when you walked away.

"Stop staring, you’re drooling." You teased, your lips curling into a smirk as you caught him in the act.

Logan’s jaw tightened, heat rushing to his hazel eyes. Damn it, you were sharp—always catching him off guard. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to hide the fact that you’d gotten under his skin.

"I wasn’t drooling.” He grumbled, though the faint crack on his husky voice betrayed him.

You chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his discomfort. You had a way of making him feel things he didn’t want to feel, and it was both infuriating and irresistible. But you didn't knew that.

"I never thought I’d see you in a suit." You remarked, your eyes sweeping over him appreciatively.

Logan tugged at the tie around his neck, feeling like it was strangling him. He hated wearing suits—hated how stiff and uncomfortable they made him feel.

"Can you tell I’m miserable?" He asked, his tone gruff as he tried to loosen the tie.

"Just a little." You laughed, the sound light and airy as you took another sip of your drink. The alcohol was getting quick on your system, it was your third glass of champagne.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle along with you, despite the discomfort of the suit. You had a way of making even the most unbearable situations tolerable, just by being there. And damn, that dress—it was almost criminal that he hadn’t seen you in something like it before. He wondered how would be to put his hands on your bare back, leading you to a little dance.

"I never pegged you for a dress kind of girl." He said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration as he looked at you.

"You say that like I usually wear boy clothes.” You replied, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m not saying that." Logan defended, though he wasn’t used to seeing you in anything so... form-fitting. "Just wasn’t expecting you to be so comfortable in it."

"I’m not." You admitted, glancing around nervously. "I’m just faking it." That damn dress was strangling your breasts, making them pop out a bit.

Logan smirked, seeing through your eyes. You were good at pretending, but he could tell when you were putting on an act.

"So, you’re actually uncomfortable right now?" He asked, knowing full well you’d never admit it.

"Don’t push it." You groaned, leaning back against a nearby pillar as you rubbed your forehead.

Logan laughed, enjoying how defensive you got when he pressed your buttons. He leaned against the pillar beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of your body, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should.

"Definitely uncomfortable." He concluded, his tone smug as he crossed his arms.

"Yeah, yeah." You muttered, rolling your eyes as you drained the last of your champagne.

Logan shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. You were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out, and it both fascinated and frustrated him. He watched as you rubbed your temple again, probably from all the times you’d stumbled tonight.

"Maybe next time, don’t wear high heels." He suggested, his voice teasing as he leaned in closer.

"Maybe next time, I’ll throw them at your head." You shot back, narrowing your eyes at him as you set your empty glass down.

Logan laughed again, the image of you hurling a pair of heels at him was too funny not to enjoy. His smirk widened as he leaned in even closer, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I’d like to see you try, Sweetheart." That damn nickname. Every time it rolled off his tongue, your heart stopped for a second.

"You wouldn’t." You replied, your tone challenging as you crossed your arms.

"Oh, I definitely would.” Logan retorted, his voice low and gravelly as his gaze locked onto yours.

But before you could respond, your eyes lit up, and you grabbed his arm in excitement. "Oh, Jean’s about to throw the bouquet!"

Logan blinked, caught off guard as you clung to his arm. He followed your gaze to where Jean was preparing to toss the bouquet, and he couldn’t help but smile at the joy in your eyes.

"You’re actually excited about that?" He teased, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m going to catch it!" you declared with a wink, lifting the hem of your dress and darting toward the crowd of women gathering beneath Jean.

Logan rolled his eyes, watching you join the throng of eager women. The whole bouquet thing? It was ridiculous. What grown woman was actually excited for the bride's bouquet? But seeing you so determined, so full of life—it was hard not to be charmed by it.

He leaned back against the pillar, arms crossed as he watched you mingle with the other women. You stood out in the crowd, not just because of your awkwardness in heels, but because you were… you. Unique, different, and wholly yourself.

And then, with a swift leap, you caught the bouquet, laughing as you hugged it to your chest like a prize. The sight of you holding those flowers made something inside Logan twist. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away as you basked in the victory.

"I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress." Jean teased, humming. Her voice filled with warmth as she embraced you for some seconds.

Logan’s stomach tightened at the thought of you in a wedding dress, but with someone else. The idea of you marrying another man—it was almost unbearable.

Scott chimed in with a grin, "Poor guy who ends up with you."

You rolled your eyes at Scott, still clutching the bouquet like it was the most precious thing in the world. Logan felt a pang of something—was it jealousy? He hated how the thought of you with someone else made his heart ache.

As you chatted with Jean and Scott, Logan’s eyes couldn’t help but drift back to you. You were radiant, holding that bouquet with a tenderness that made his chest tighten. He must have been staring too long because suddenly, you glanced over your shoulder and caught him in the act.

"What?" You mouthed, your expression curious.

Logan chuckled softly, realizing he’d been caught again. He gave you a casual shrug, pretending he wasn’t just admiring how beautiful you looked. He had a lazy smirk tugging in his lips.

You rolled your eyes playfully, then made a show of pretending to toss the bouquet at him.

Logan huffed a laugh, playing along as he mimed catching the invisible flowers.

"Careful, if you catch the bouquet, you might have to get married." You teased, approaching him with a mischievous grin.

Logan caught the invisible bouquet in his hands, his smirk widening as you drew closer. The idea of catching your bouquet, of being the one standing next to you—it was a thought he shouldn’t entertain.

"Trust me, Darlin’, I’m careful enough not to." He replied, his voice low and teasing.

You lean against the cool stone pillar, your fingers playing with the petals of the bouquet in your hand. "You know, I’d like to get married someday." You murmur, the thought drifting out as if carried by the air. "Having someone by your side... it seems nice."

Logan’s smirk wavers, the casual confidence he always wears faltering at your words. The idea of you marrying someone else... it’s a thought he finds hard to swallow. He leans beside you, trying to push away the bitterness that threatens to take hold.

"All sounds like rainbows and butterflies until it falls apart, bub." He says, his voice rough, yet somehow gentle. His heart was aching as his mind imagined you being frustrated by some idiot.

You turn your gaze to him, your smile fading slightly but still there, soft and wistful. "Not when it’s with the right partner." You counter, your voice steady.

Logan raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched into his features. "You think you’ll find a ‘perfect partner’?" His tone is soft, calm. He was so enchanted by hearing you talking that he just made another question to keep you talking.

The way he says it makes you pause, confusion crossing your face. "I do..." You reply, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s clear he’s not convinced. To him, most men are bastards, capable of hurting you in ways he can’t stand to imagine. He doesn’t realize that his own feelings are clouding his judgment.

"You're only twenty two, Sweetheart." Logan says, his tone a bit harder. He knows you’re still young, with your whole life ahead of you. His eyes trace the lines of your hands, still holding the bouquet delicately.

"Just planning for the future." You shrug, bringing the flowers to your nose to breathe in their scent, lowering your eyes.

He chuckles, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. "You sound like a mother already." He teases, watching you with a hint of amusement as you lose yourself in the fragrance.

You grin, leaning into the pillar, a playful glint in your eyes. "And I want kids, of course." You add, biting your lip as a small laugh escapes you.

Logan’s eyes widen in surprise. "Kids?" He echoes, trying to mask the mix of shock and something else—something he can’t quite put into words. The idea of you wanting children, of all things, seems both childish and... incredibly tempting.

"Yeah." You say dreamily, lost in your thoughts. "I want to hold a little version of me in my arms, feel the roundness of my belly..."

Logan’s mind starts to race, conjuring images of you pregnant, of you carrying his child. He swallows hard, trying to push those thoughts away, but they cling to him stubbornly like a plague.

"You want to be pregnant?" He blurts out before he can stop himself, the words slipping from his lips unbidden.

"After I’m married, of course." You laugh, rolling your eyes at his directness.

Logan smirks, shaking his head slightly. "You just can’t wait, can you?"

You shrug, taking a deep breath. "I just like imagining the future."

Logan’s smirk softens into something more tender, more vulnerable. He has his own visions of the future—ones that he’s never dared to share. He didn't feel worthy of allowing himself to imagine that. "And in that future, you see a bunch of kids running around, huh?"

"Two." You whisper, almost to yourself. "Two little troublemakers with powers of their own."

Logan’s smile widens as he hears you say that. Two mutant kids? He can almost see it—two kiddos who would be as stubborn and strong-willed as you are, maybe even as wild as he is. He has to push down the surge of affection, the urge to reach out and touch you, to pull you closer.

"Two boys.” You muse, a soft smile playing on your lips as your imagination takes over. "I can already picture them."

Logan’s breath hitches slightly. Two boys. Two little versions of him and you, driving him crazy and filling his life with chaos and love. He can barely keep himself from reaching out to you, from pulling you into his arms right then and there.

"And a peaceful cabin in the woods." You continue, your voice barely above a whisper, "Close to Xavier’s Institute."

Logan can see it all too clearly—a small, cozy cabin tucked away in the woods, close enough to the school but far enough for peace and privacy. The idea of a quiet life with you, away from the chaos, is something he’s never allowed himself to fully imagine.

"A quiet little cabin in the woods, huh?" He repeats, his voice gentler now, almost reverent. He could picture himself chopping some wood as you were outside with him, playing with the kids.

"With a small second floor, so I could paint on the balcony." You add, your voice trailing off as the image becomes more vivid.

Logan can see it now—you, standing on the balcony on a warm summer evening, the sun casting a golden glow on your hair as you paint, completely lost in your art. Your body wrapped in the sheets, not minding to change because you got so inspired as you woke up that you just needed to paint. His heart pounds in his chest, the reality of his feelings crashing over him.

"Oh." You suddenly blink, snapping back to reality. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Don’t apologize." Logan says quickly, almost too quickly. He doesn’t want you to stop, doesn’t want to lose this glimpse into your mind. He swallows, his heart in his throat. "I like hearing ya’ talk."

"You do?" You ask softly, a calm smile spreading across your face as you lean your head on his shoulder, your fingers gently squeezing his arm.

Logan freezes, his breath catching in his throat as he feels the warmth of your touch, the softness of your hair brushing against him. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t think, overwhelmed by how close you are.

"Yeah.” He manages to say, his voice shaky, betraying the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You pull away slightly, just enough to look up at him, curiosity in your eyes. "And you? Is there someone you like?"

Logan feels a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when you lean away, though the imprint of your touch lingers. He chuckles at the question, the irony almost too much for him to bear.

"Like someone?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow. "You think anyone out there deserves me?"

You roll your eyes, playfully biting your cheek. "There’s that ego again."

Logan smirks, but his eyes are serious. "It’s not ego when it’s a fact."

You reached for another glass of champagne, muttering. "Jesus Christ." and chuckled with a scoff. "But you’re dodging my question, bub."

He observed you with a smirk as you grabbed the champagne. "What question might that be, bub?" he asked, pretending to be oblivious.

Of course, he knew exactly what you were asking. He just didn’t want you to find out the truth.

"Quit acting clueless." You said, nudging him gently with your elbow as you took a sip of your new glass of champagne drink. The alcohol was helping you to gain courage.

He chuckled again, feeling your playful prod. He hesitated, knowing he was about to say something really foolish.

"I have feelings for someone." He confessed, his gaze fixed on yours, searching for your reaction.

"Oh really?" You replied with a forced smile, glancing around. "Who is it?"

He swallowed hard, trying to mask his unease as you pressed him further. His eyes darted around, as if seeking someone—anyone—to distract from the conversation. "It’s not important." He finally said, trying to brush off your question.

"Come on, I’m your friend. Tell me." You insisted, shaking your head as you leaned in closer.

He sighed, caught between frustration and resignation. Friend... It was both a gift and a burden. He tried to stay calm, ignoring the way your body was leaning against his.

"Does it even matter? I don’t stand a chance; it’s no one significant." He said, his voice thick with pretense, trying to downplay his emotions.

You stared at him, puzzled. "Why don’t you have a chance? Is she already taken?" You asked, your curiosity piqued.

He nearly laughed at your assumption that his interest was in a woman. Shaking his head, he kept his voice low. "She’s a free bird."

He glanced around, hoping you wouldn’t catch on to who he was really talking about.

"Have you tried making a move on her?" You asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

He had to tread carefully now. He didn’t want you to discover that he was talking about you. He couldn’t admit it for a multitude of reasons. "I-" he started, pausing. It was hard to lie to you. "Yeah, I have." He finally said, another falsehood slipping out.

"And how did she responded?" You asked, taking another sip of your champagne. Yes, drink a lot because you will need it. You heart is shattered. You drank every single drop of the champagne, putting the empty glass aside.

His face remained impassive as you looked at him, confused. He felt a knot in his stomach, struggling to keep up the lie. "She turned me down."

You opened your mouth to respond but stumbled on your heels, grabbing onto him for support.

He quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, steadying you as you almost fell. He pulled you close, holding you tight. His calloused hands grabbing your bare back skin.

You burst into laughter, clinging to him. "Oh God, I’m so sorry. I hate these heels."

He chuckled, keeping you close. "I’ve told you to stop wearing those." He teased, his tone light.

"I know." You laughed softly. "I’m sorry." You repeated, your laughter fading into silent sobs against his chest. You felt so defeated by your own feelings.

He felt your body tremble as you began to cry. A type of cry that becomes from the heart, so painful and devastated. "Hey, hey.” He said soothingly, holding you tighter. "What’s wrong? Darlin’, talk to me."

"I love you." You blurted out, interrupting him. Damn alcohol. "I know you have feelings for someone, but I love you, Logan Howlett, you damn bastard.” You mumbled, burying your face in his shoulder sobbing and painfully inhaling his scent—a blend of pine, musk, cigarettes, and leather.

He froze, completely stunned. He hadn’t expected this confession, especially while he was lying to you. How was he supposed to respond? His arms stayed firmly around you as you pressed your face against him, your warm breath on his skin. He could smell the sweet floral notes of your perfume.

He couldn’t find the words; the shock of your declaration left him speechless.

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it in. You can stop talking to me, you can reject me, but God— I love you so much.” You mumbled, holding him tight as the sobs continue.

He stood there, his heart racing. He couldn’t wrap his head around the situation—your confession of love to him. But he loved you more than you could ever imagine. So much more.

"Don’t apologize." He finally said, his voice thick with emotion. He held you tighter, as if afraid you might vanish if he let go.

You melted into his embrace, your hand gently stroking his dark hair. From across the room, Jean looked at you, silently asking, "Did you confess?" You nodded, your eyes sad. She gave to you the most sadder gaze back, emphatizing with you.

You pulled away from his embrace, wiping your tears. "I-" You chuckled nervously, tears still falling. "I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me."

He watched as you pulled away, your tears staining your face. It pained him to see you cry. When you nervously mentioned going to the bathroom, he felt a pang in his chest. Determined, he cupped your face and kissed you deeply, as if he had longed to do it forever. Your brain was not braining when you realized what was going on.

"I love you too, damn it. I love you so much. I’ve been lying to you for years—" The deep sound of his voice playing with your lips.

You melted into the kiss, tasting the mix of alcohol and his breath as you kissed him back, silencing him. Your mind twisting about him loving you back. He lips was desperate over yours, making you tremble.

He deepened the kiss, pulling you tightly against his chest, savoring the blend of alcohol and your unique flavor. He pressed himself against you, desperate to hold you close.

You clung to him, kissing him back just as urgently. "You bastard—" You muttered before he kissed you again, shutting you. "—You lied to me."

He continued kissing you, trying to keep his breathing steady despite your harsh words. When you managed to speak, he pressed another rough kiss to your lips. "I did. I know." He murmured softly, his lips lingering near yours. "I was a complete idiot."

"Yes, you were." You said, glaring at him but holding him close. "God." You looked at him, your gaze filled with all the things left unsaid.

He met your gaze, his own eyes locked onto yours. He felt your body pressed against his, your hands on his chest. It was as if he could drown in the intensity of your look. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his emotions in check. His eyes revealed what he had been hiding for years. He loved you. More than you could ever know.

"Say something.” You pleaded softly.

He held you close, searching for the right words. "I love you, woman.” He finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how deeply I love you. I was a damn fool to spend all these years hiding my feelings for you."

You let him hold you, resting your cheek on his chest as you hugged him back, closing your eyes.

He held you tightly, your face pressed against his chest. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, cherishing the moment—the way you felt against him, the sound of your breath. It was perfect. "God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” he said gruffly, his hands tenderly caressing your bare back just like he dreamed.

You chuckled, feeling dizzy with his intoxicating scent filling your senses. You held him close.

He felt your chuckle, your head nestled against his chest. He exhaled as you held him tight. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, letting it envelop him. "You don’t know how amazing you smell." He murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your neck.

"What do I smell like?" You asked, glancing at him with a curious smile. Your body shivers again as you feels his lips on your neck.

He chuckled softly, inhaling your scent again as he nuzzled into your neck. "Sweet. Like a greenhouse. Like fresh rain after a storm. Like a flower, but even better."

Your body warmed slightly as you felt his lips on your neck, closing your eyes for a moment.

He sensed your warmness as his lips traced your neck softly. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted every part of you pressed against him. Gently, he pressed a kiss to that special spot on your neck—the spot that drove him wild.

You breath stopped in your throat as his lips lingered on that tender spot on your neck. The warmth of his embrace, combined with the gentle pressure of his kiss, made your heart race. You could feel the intensity of his emotions as they mirrored your own. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, full of raw sincerity. His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing the soft skin. "Please tell me that you're getting along with me or I will drown myself in a bottle of Scotch right here."

You looked at him, you could feel a mix of relief and a light humor on the air. "You can drink another day, bub. Now you're mine." you admitted quietly, brushing your lips against his. His mouth was tasting cigarettes and Scotch. So good for your own.

He nodded, a lazy, knowing smirk curling on his lips. "Don’t need to tell me twice." He murmured, his voice a low, confident drawl. With a deliberate movement, he tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and his tongue traced the curve of your bottom lip, a silent invitation.

A tentative smile touched your lips, allowing him to enter into your mouth. His tongue exploring each corner in delicious movements, turning you dizzy. "Did I said to you how you look so damn good on this dress?" He whispers, biting your bottom lip as his hands squeeze the bare skin of your back. "You didn't, but you can say that." You joked, mirroring his bite on your lip on his own. His chuckle was in the middle of his throat, husky. "You look so damn good." He said before swallowing your words with his tongue.

[pillowpascal]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

[pillowpascal]

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it comes to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also means that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossal had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

[pillowpascal]

[pillowpascal]

I’m not her, you know.

[pillowpascal]

It's from 2010, Tom Hiddleston, if you only knew. (x)

[pillowpascal]

Most purpose is more burden than glory. You just choose your burden. And trust me, you never wanna be the guy who avoids it ’cause you can’t live with the burden.

[pillowpascal]

I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. LOKI — 02x06 “Glorious Purpose”

[pillowpascal]

THOR (2011) / LOKI 2x06 (2023)

[pillowpascal]

Scenes We Deserved To See:

eddie: uhh hey sorry if i made things weird for you when i called steve 'big boy' outta nowhere

robin: honestly, i'm used to it. if i can endure steve after hearing him call himself 'daddy', i can survive anything.

eddie, visibly sweating: uh - s- ste- steve called himse- whe- in what cont- how - i - [clears throat] so how'd that happen? [eddie tries to lean casually on the rv table, loses co-ordination and fully smacks his jaw against it]

[pillowpascal]

[pillowpascal]

"Not all men..."

Yeah your right José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal would never treat me like this

[pillowpascal]

That extremely hot thing middle aged men do when the weight of the world is crushing them

[pillowpascal]

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

[pillowpascal]

ENDLESS LIST OF FAVORITE CHARACTERS ♡ JOY WANG/JOBU TUPAKI

“You could be anything, anywhere. Why not go somewhere where your daughter is more than just this? Here, all we get are a few specks of time where any of this actually makes any sense.”

[pillowpascal]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Wayne didn't trust you, until one night.

Warnings: angst, fluff, nightmares, me writing wayne in an awful way :(

Wayne Munson just wanted to protect his boy. And that's why he was so reluctant towards you.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, it was that he didn't trust you: after all the years Eddie had spent almost alone in school, you came in the picture. You, saying you cared about him, saying you were interested in the music he listened to and the books he read, saying you loved him.

It all seemed too perfect and Wayne just knew there was something wrong.

Not because he was a bad person, Wayne absolutely wasn't, but because he was afraid you were playing with Eddie's feelings. He was afraid that one day you'd laugh in his face and tell him there was no way a girl like you could ever love someone like him. An outcast. A cult-leader. A freak.

The worst part was that Eddie, on the other hand, was really in love with you. He could see it by the way he talked about you when you weren't around, by his loving gaze when you visited him at the trailer, by the smile that appeared on his lips whenever he mentioned you in a conversation.

Wayne was afraid Eddie would suffer when you left him.

Because he knew you would. It was just a matter of time.

After what had happened in the upside down, after Eddie had almost died (because yes, he knew the whole truth even if he had a hard time believing it at first) he often woke up due to nightmares.

Often he heard the bed creak as if Eddie was tossing and turning in pain, sometimes he heard him talking but never understood what exactly he was saying. He was probably calling your name, the name of girl he was in love with, poor naive boy.

Once, he opened the door to his room slightly, slowly and asked if everything was all right, watching the figure curled up on the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest in a defensive position.

Even in the dark he could clearly see that Eddie was shaking.

It was pretty obvious that no, he wasn't all right. He was far from it.

Eddie told him to go away, that he was fine. Wayne pressed for a while but Eddie didn't seem to want to talk to him. Finally he closed the door and went back to his room, hoping that giving him the space he wanted would help.

He wasn't sure if it had really helped him when he started hearing muffled sobs coming from his room.

He really didn't know what to do. Eddie should have talked to someone about it, vented in some way but he didn't seem to want to do it with him.

He didn't seem to want to talk about it even with you, his "girlfriend". Wayne had expected this too: You wouldn't be there for his boy when he needed it.

After that night, Eddie had locked the door to his room, so even if Wayne wanted to go inside to check, he couldn't.

One night though, Wayne woke up to a noise coming from the room next to his, from Eddie's room.

He sighed running a hand over his face, tired, knowing he was going to have another sleepless night and that Eddie would too.

Thar time though, he heard the door to Eddie's bedroom open and the sound of bare feet making their way down the hallway where the phone was hanging on the wall.

What the hell was he doing?

Wayne got out of bed and headed for the door to his room but, when he was about to open it, he heard Eddie's voice on the other side of the door and stopped.

He knew eavesdropping was wrong, but that didn't stop him.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Wayne realized Eddie called you. At two in the morning.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Eddie whispered, almost as that was all the voice he could get out at the moment.

"Yeah, don't worry. I just... I think I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm sorry, I'm sure I woke you up. Yeah, I told you I'm fine." Eddie muttered, if his words were to sound convincing, he was failing miserably.

He sounded like a kid scared by a thunderstorm, in moments like that Wayne wished Eddie's mom was still there with him, some things really would've been easier.

“No, that's stupid, I shouldn't even have called, you probably just want to sleep and not worry about my dumb problems. It's just…I'm tired, Y/N. I'm so tired and the nightmares won't stop and I… I don't know what to do. Every time, every night I'm there again and there are the bats and the lightning and- and It's hard to sleep without you. I'm scared Y/N. I'm scared they'll never stop, that I'll never be okay." Eddie sniffed.

Was he crying?

"But it's okay. I mean, yeah, I- don't worry and-" he probably stopped to hear what you were saying.

Were you telling him to go fuck himself for calling in the middle of the night? Were you trying to console him? Wayne couldn't know but either way, he didn't trust you. He had never done that.

"No. You don't have to. No, Y/N, no please, really, I-" Eddie stammered before silence fell on the other side of the door.

You hung up the phone. You hung up the phone on Eddie's face when he needed someone to listen to him and when he trusted you enough to call you and talk about how he was feeling.

Wayne knew it would end like this. You never loved Eddie like you said you did, you didn't even care about him or you wouldn't have hung up the phone. Maybe it was a joke all along, "make the freak your boyfriend, make him fall in love and trust you and then leave him when he needs it most and break his heart."

He knew how mean teenagers could be, they always managed to hit where it hurt the most. And, of course that's what you did with Eddie, you played with his heart that had already been broken too many times for someone so young.

He heard Eddie pacing nervously down the short hallway a couple of times, and just as Wayne was about to walk out of the room despite having no idea what to say, he heard the trailer door open and close.

Eddie went out. And Wayne wasn't going to let him spend the night in the cold or whatever that boy was up to.

The older Munson finally came out of his room and made his way to the door Eddie had disappeared through.

He opened it slightly and looked out, finding himself faced with the most unexpected scene he had imagined.

There you were, your car parked in front of the trailer, the door still open, and you were striding towards Eddie.

The sky was dark and moonless, only a few stars were visible, a nearby street lamp allowed the man to see what was happening.

Wayne leaned against the door frame, watching the scene a few feet away from him.

As soon as you reached Eddie you wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him towards you, he immediately wrapped his arms around your body in a hug Wayne wondered if it could actually break any bones.

Eddie held on to you as if his life depended on it, squeezing the fabric of your shirt with his hands and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief as he hugged you, as if having you there in that moment solved all his problems, as if Eddie was okay again just because of your presence.

"I'm here. It's okay, I got you." You said holding him, your voice soft and sincere.

That was the moment Wayne realized he was completely wrong about you, all along.

"You didn't have to come." Eddie whispered, not letting you go.

"But I wanted to." You responded by stepping away from him slightly, cupping his face with your hands and running your thumbs on his cheeks.

"I swear, you are something else." Eddie said with a slight smile. "Thank you for coming, really."

And Wayne, seeing you looking at Eddie as if he was the most precious thing in the world, wondered what had been on his mind every time he doubted your sincerity, every time he thought you didn't really care about Eddie.

You went there in the middle of the night because you knew he needed it, and he didn't even ask you. That was all it took to know that you were a good person. That you were there for his boy.

"I love you." He murmured before bringing his lips to yours in a light but affectionate kiss. Wayne had to look down, feeling he was slipping into a too intimate a moment.

"I love you too." You responded leaning your forehead against his. "And I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, you know that."

"Do you- think you can stay the night? I understand if you can't- if you don't want to- I mean-"

"Eddie, I've come to stay. I wouldn't leave even if you begged me, right now." You reassured him.

He nodded, leaving a kiss on top of your head. "I love you so much."

You smiled grabbing his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers ready to reenter the trailer.

Your eyes met Wayne's still in the doorway.

Eddie's hand squeezed yours tighter as you reached for him.

"She's spending the night here whether you like it or not." Eddie announced to his uncle.

Wayne looked between you and Eddie, then back to you as you started to talk.

"I'm sorry I showed up here in the middle of the night but I can't leave now, I-"

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you." He finally admitted.

A surprised expression came onto your face.

"I was wrong about you, I was wrong from the start." He said leading you into the trailer.

Eddie smiled at his uncle's words.

"It's okay, I understand where all your resilience came from. Really, don't worry about it." You answered with conviction.

Wayne patted your shoulder. "You are a good kid, thank you for being here."

You smiled again. "You don't have to thank me. None of you have to."

Eddie put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, up against his Metallica shirt he used to sleep in.

"We're going to sleep, uncle Wayne." Eddie said before heading to his room, dragging you with him.

You turned one last time to Wayne before disappearing behind Eddie's bedroom door. "Good night."

The man's gaze softened even more. "Goodnight kids."

Eddie was in good hands now, he always had been even when Wayne didn't know it.

You were always there, even when Wayne didn't know it. You were family.

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7

[pillowpascal]

Pedro Pascal - Behind the scenes of Esquire’s April/May 2023