reidingandwriting

[reidingandwriting]

THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING EVER I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

besties | p.p.

pairing: peter parker x f!stark!reader

summary: your friendship with your dad’s intern turns into something more

warnings: friends to lovers, swearing, these bitches being oblivious, comedy, dad tony, mentions of past affairs, suggestive content, fluff galore, slow burn, underage drinking

a/n: i’m not usually a peter girlie as i love him and mj together but i wanted to write some fluff so here we are. also i’m laughing at petey’s intials. set post endgame but tony lives and steve doesn’t go back in time. nat’s still dead tho :(

liked by peterparker, nedleeds, tonystark, and others

yourusername: your fave upstate & queens duo

tagged: @/peterparker

view comments below

user1: MY FAVES

user2: imagine being friends w/ the y/n stark😩

user3: THIS

nedleeds: can’t believe y’all got food without me…

peterparker: sorry!

yourusername: no we’re not

peterparker: never getting in a car with you driving AGAIN

yourusername: IT WAS ONE CURB

user4: like father like daughter😭

user5: omg😂

tonystark: how many people from queens do you even know?

yourusername: that doesn’t matter

peterparker: they hate when we serve orphan & nepo baby

yourusername: 🗣️🗣️

user6: not the dead parents—

user7: i bet peter is the funniest person alive😭

user8: bro’s got trauma for days😭😭

pepperpotts: so this is why it took you two 6 hours to get the olive oil i asked for…

yourusername: should’ve sent happy🤷🏻‍♀️

jamesrhodes: you act like y/n doesn’t have tony’s horrible time management skills

pepperpotts: and peter?

jamesrhodes: spends too much time with tony and y/n

user9: god i want to live in nyc so bad

user10: pov: you saw y/n stark hit a curb today

liked by nedleeds, yourusername, mjjones, and others

peterparker: lab days🛠️🥽

tagged: @/tonystark

view comments below

yourusername: YOU GOT FIVE GUYS WITHOUT ME?!??

peterparker: BLAME YOUR DAD!! IT WAS HIS IDEA

tonystark: that was supposed to stay between us kid😑

user11: is that a new iron man model i see👀

peterparker: nope, just fixing rhodey’s suit :)

yourusername: surprised uncle rhodes is letting you touch that old thing

jamesrhodes: HEY! the war machine suit works fine just the way it is

yourusername: clearly not if it had to be fixed…

user11: oh god what have i started🫣

user12: five guys👨‍🍳🤌

user13: looks so fun!

nedleeds: man you HAVE got to convince mr. stark to let me come with someday

tonystark: not happening hacker

nedleeds: 😔

mjjones: THIS was more important than acdec?

peterparker: YOU DON’T JUST SAY NO TO TONY STARK MJ!!!!

yourusername: i do all the time🤨

user14: 😭😭

user15: love how peter is just friends with all the starks

user16: i’m pretty sure he’s tony’s personal intern

user17: ^^^

user18: oh my god i thought he was another bastard from tony’s playboy days😭

user19: lmao nooooo

user20: tbf i forget y/n isn’t pepper’s kid sometimes soooo….

liked by nedleeds, mjjones, peterparker, and others

yourusername: a happy meal is the only true serotonin one needs in life

tagged: @/peterparker @/nedleeds

view comments below

tonystark: what am i? chopped liver?

yourusername: yes

tonystark: ouch

user21: imagine calling tony stark chopped liver😭

nedleeds: i’m pretty sure we broke the airplane wheel

yourusername: shhhh…don’t let ronald hear you

peterparker: thanks for the nightmare fuel tn

yourusername: anytime🫡

user22: happy meals >>>

user23: mcds cokes >>>

yourusername: ronald mcdonald🥵

user24: one of these is not like the others…

user25: LMAO NOT RONALD MCDONALD😭😭

peterparker: i’m just glad we took the subway this time

yourusername: WOW

yourusername: AND TO THINK WE WERE BFFS

peterparker: I’M SORRY I DON’T WANT TO DIE YOUNG

tonystark: that is the most bullshit response i’ve ever heard from you

user26: this comment section is so unhinged😭😭

user27: lol what’d you expect??? it’s the starks

tonystark: morgan would like a happy meal

yourusername: we all know that’s just the excuse for you to get one too but that’s ok

liked by tonystark, yourusername, steverogers, and others

pepperpotts: cozy day with the family🤍

tagged: @/tonystark @/yourusername

view comments below

user28: you guys are so cute!

yourusername: i would like everyone to know that dad pushed me into the pond after that pic was taken

user29: omg noooo😭😭

peterparker: did you save your drink at least?

yourusername: obviously…i’m not a monster pete

user30: i’m crying at the thought of tony stark pushing his daughter into a pond😭😭

user31: ^^^

tonystark: this is defamation

steverogers: glad to see you guys doing well pep!

pepperpotts: you should come over for dinner sometime soon!!

tonystark: please leave the 2 assholes that follow you around at home thanks

pepperpotts: TONY

yourusername: bring them for the bit

samwilson: i’m going to get morgan the loudest fucking toy for christmas now

user32: this thread is a mess😭😭

user33: it’s so weird to see y/n without peter lol

user34: lol frfr

user35: i’m kinda starting to ship them ngl

user36: omg yes!!

user37: you guys can never let a boy and girl just be friends😒

tonystark: my arms are so tired from pushing morgan in that swing all day

yourusername: sounds like a skill issue

peterparker: ^^^

tonystark: i’d like to see you two single-handedly save new york from an impending nuke

user38: 😭😭😭

jamesrhodes: looks like a perfect day for the stanks!

tonystark: you’re never letting that go are you

jamesrhodes: nope!

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: when the trip makes it out of the family group chat >>>]

story replies

peterparker: can’t wait!!!

yourusername: i am so beating you to the best room

user39: i just know the pics are abt to be fire🔥🔥

user40: where are you going?

mjjones: i’m expecting a real life nemo

yourusername: 🫡🫡

liked by peterparker, pepperpotts, mjjones, and others

yourusername: us virgin islands? this american def ain’t a virg—

tagged: @/peterparker @/tonystark @/pepperpotts

view comments below

user41: HELLO?!?

user42: GIRL WHAT!?

peterparker: ain’t nothin’ virgin abt this isla—

yourusername: 🏝️= 👉👌

user43: WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!

user44: YOUR PARENTS FOLLOW YOU Y/N

mjjones: the island after y’all left: 🤰

yourusername: MJ I’M SCREAMING😭😭

nedleeds: so was the isla—i’m gonna stop

user45: 😭😭

tonystark: sometimes i think i asexually reproduced you like a plant

yourusername: surprised you didn’t clone yourself in a lab or smth

jamesrhodes: don’t give him ideas

user46: i’m freaking out over the caption

user47: no fr…

user48: AND PETER’S COMMENT

user49: 🎶i think they did it but i just can’t prove it🎶

steverogers: there’s definitely an innuendo in here somewhere but i’m just going to pretend i’m blind and go

yourusername: good choice

user50: CAPTAIN AMERICA SIR—

user51: mom come pick me up i’m scared

liked by yourusername, nedleeds, tonystark, and others

peterparker: i have sand in my ass

tagged: @/yourusername @/tonystark @/pepperpotts

view comments below

user52: love how peter was invited on the family vacation

user53: he really is just part of the fam

user54: so convinced he and y/n are dating

user55: god i hope so

nedleeds: simp

peterparker: damn right - y/n

user56: not y/n stealing peter’s phone to comment this

user57: simp you say👀

yourusername: damn who that hottie in slide 2?

peterparker: you boo😘 - y/n

yourusername: aww thanks boo🥰

user58: 😭😭

steverogers: and that’s enough instagram for me tonight

tonystark: i still don’t know what y’all were looking at

yourusername: your ego obviously🙄

user59: oh to go on a hike with tony stark

user60: oh to be dating y/n stark

user61: they never said they’re dating…

user62: shhh let us be delusional🤫

liked by pepperpotts, jamesrhodes, yourusername, and others

tonystark: the difference between morgan and y/n on vacation…

tagged: @/pepperpotts @/yourusername

view comments below

user63: omg😭😭

user64: y/n is such a mood

peterparker: morgan is a menace at go karts

yourusername: she plays too much mario kart fr

jamesrhodes: when one gets pepper’s genes and the other yours…

yourusername: i can’t believe you’ve done this

tonystark: oh but tis has

user65: i wanna say i’m morgan but in reality i’m y/n

user66: thisssss

user67: same😭

pepperpotts: to be fair y/n was hungover in the second pic…

yourusername: the porcelain gods did not grant mercy on me😔

liked by tonystark, peterparker, steverogers, and others

pepperpotts: great vacation with even greater company💕💕

tagged: @/tonystark @/yourusername @/peterparker

view comments below

peterparker: thank you for the invitation mrs. potts

user68: stop he’s too cute

user69: peter you’re adorable

user70: what a wonderful time to spend with family!

tonystark: i love you mrs. potts

pepperpotts: i love you mr. stark

yourusername: 😖🤮

jamesrhodes: glad to see tony still somehow manages to end up in the er on every trip

tonystark: i have a world record to hold up😤

user71: lmao😭

yourusername: i’m still full from that feast

peterparker: none of my pants fit after that salmon😩

user72: LOVE🤍🤍

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: 🌟🌊]

story replies

peterparker: you really are the best

yourusername: you too pete💞

user73: holy shit holy shit holy—

user74: omg i’m so happy for you

steverogers: so did you two…fondue

yourusername: OH MY GOD

liked by yourusername, mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: another post bc we leave tmrw

tagged: @/yourusername @/tonystark

view comments below

yourusername: gonna miss sneaking out…

tonystark: oh please you do that back home too

yourusername: it’s not the same🙄

nedleeds: can’t wait to see you man!!

peterparker: so ready for our mandalorian marathon!

mjjones: nerds

yourusername: ^^^

user75: lmao tony😭😭

user76: he’s keeping an eye out for selener

user75: STOP😭

tonystark: andddd you’re grounded from the lab for that pic

peterparker: awww man😔

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: when he cares abt school🤭🫠]

story replies

peterparker: you were just making fun of me for studying🤨

yourusername: semantics

user77: automatically makes a guy hotter

yourusername: hear hear🗣️

mjjones: that better be acdec work…

liked by mjjones, peterparker, tonystark, and others

yourusername: here’s the hard launch for you bitches

tagged: @/peterparker

view comments below

user78: OMG OMG OMG—

user79: I CALLED IT

peterparker: so happy to call you mine🫶🏻

yourusername: 😘

mjjones: abt damn time…

nedleeds: ^^^

tonystark: ^^^

jamesrhodes: ^^^

pepperpotts: ^^^

steverogers: ^^^

samwilson: ^^^

happyhogan: ^^^

yourusername: damn ok then

tonystark: keep the door open

tonystark: and don’t even THINK about fonduing in my house

yourusername: PLEASE STOP

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

[reidingandwriting]

Emergency Contact (logan howlett x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader Word Count: 8.5K Rating: E

Summary: You, an actress, believe you're concealing a secret effectively, but your new driver, Logan, sees right through you. Each time he picks you up, he notices the bruises and the pain you're trying to hide. Over time, Logan's quiet concern creates an unexpected bond between you.

Warning: oldman!logan, human reader, slow burn, language, angst, implied domestic abuse, masturbation (logan in the shower), mentions of alcohol and intoxication, emotional abuse (mean names towards reader), rough manhandling, violence (logan beating the shit out of your boyfriend), sexual tension, mutual pining, pet names, flirting, feelings, logan & laura being father & daughter (yes, it requires a warning because they are cute), jealousy, dirty talk (filthy logan), possessiveness, descriptions & flashbacks of explicit smut, implied oral sex (f receiving, logan is a munch)

A/N: I’ve never written oldman!logan so I’m nervous. We don’t get enough of Laura so she’s in this story – no Charles, in my universe he’s already passed away... ;( Also thank you to this queen @nicksolemnlyswears who doesn’t even participate in the Logan fandom and still reviewed the Spanish for me. Gracias my wifey <3

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

+ Logan Howlett / Wolverine Masterlist

xx

Manhattan, New York

You slid into the back seat of the car, shaking off the rain as best as you could. The new driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his face set in a perpetual scowl.

The sound of raindrops tap-danced against the car roof filling the silence. You pulled your jacket tighter against you, attempting to shake off the damp chill. Immediately, you recalled that your usual driver was out today, and your team set you up with this guy to drive you to the airport.

You took a deep breath, trying to pierce the awkward atmosphere. "Pretty bad weather we’re having, huh?" you ventured, attempting to keep your tone light.

The man flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror but didn’t respond. His jaw clenched slightly, a sign of irritation. He barely acknowledged you with a grunt, then his eyes become fixed firmly on the road.

Seated in the back, you glanced out the window, watching sheets of rain cascade down, creating a blurred world outside. His eyes were glued to the road, the rain obscuring the view. You could tell he wasn’t not interested in chit-chat, but you decided to press on.

"I mean, it’s like we’re in the middle of a monsoon or something," you continued, peeling off your damp jacket, the cool air of the car made your skin prickle. You adjusted your tank top, feeling the fabric cling to your damp body. Just as you reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the man’s eyes darted from the road to the rearview mirror, his gaze catching on something.

A slight furrow formed between his brows as he glanced at your bicep, where a deep bruise marred your otherwise unblemished skin. You noticed the moment his eyes lingered on the bruise, the weight of his gaze pressing against your skin like the chill in the air. You caught his gaze in the mirror again, "It’s nothing," waving your arm dismissively, though your heart raced. "Just a little mishap with a door. I’m such a klutz,"

The man seemed to calculate his next words carefully, your dismissal hanging between you like a thick fog. "Right," he muttered under his breath, the hint of contempt lacing his tone. It was clear he wasn’t buying your excuse and wanted to return to the safety of silence.

The weight of his words hung in the damp air—the rain was unrelenting, just like the heaviness in his gaze. You swallowed hard, desperate to shift the focus back to anything else.

"Have you lived in the city long?" you asked.

The driver hesitated before replying, "I moved here from New Mexico not too long ago," he stated flatly.

Curiosity piqued, you leaned forward slightly, your interest piqued. "Oh, really? What brought you here?"

He stole another glance at you in the mirror, this time with a hint of defensiveness. "I’m taking care of someone," he replied curtly, his gaze darting back to the road just as the rain intensified.

Your heart softened with empathy, the remnants of your earlier discomfort fading. "Oh. I see. Is it family?" you probed gently, hoping your tone didn’t sound intrusive.

"I guess," he said, his voice now tinged with an edge.

You nodded, sensing that the topic was sensitive, yet the quietness felt thick in the air. "That must be a lot to handle," you offered with sincerity. "Is it hard taking care of someone?"

He exhaled a sharp breath. "You ask a lot of questions," he retorted, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, I’m sorry!" you blurted, a touch of embarrassment creeping into your tone. "I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" he interrupted. "That I’d want to share my life story with a stranger in the back seat of my car?"

You felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny, the awkwardness creeping back in. "I guess I just… talk too much sometimes, especially when I’m nervous." You laughed lightly, hoping to lighten the moment despite the reality of his situation. "I’ll zip it."

"Your choice," he muttered, but there was a begrudging acceptance in his tone. The focus returned to the road ahead, the rain drumming an incessant rhythm on the roof.

A few moments passed in silence, the tension palpable. Then finally, just as you thought there was no point in trying again, the man’s voice cut through the low hum of the car’s engine. "It is hard,"

You realized he was answering your earlier question, but you chose to stay silent. As the droplets continued to pour relentlessly against the car roof, you felt the weight of the silence settle back in, thick as the rain-soaked air outside.

Your heart quickened as you processed his earlier annoyance. It wasn’t just irritation that could surface in a man; you knew all too well the potential for anger to rise, the way it could shift the dynamics of any conversation, any situation. You’d experienced it before— in fact, you had experienced it earlier today… the shift from calm, controlled composure to something darker, something dangerous. So, staying silent felt safer for you.

As the cityscape rushed by, the rain began to ease, its relentless rhythm fading into a gentle patter. The lights of the airport glowed ahead, illuminating the damp asphalt with a promise of escape. You felt the familiar flutter of anticipation mixed with relief as the car rolled to a stop at the airport entrance.

"Thanks for the ride, Logan," you said, shaking off the last remnants of discomfort.

Logan's eyes flickered back to the rearview mirror. "I never told you my name," he remarked slowly.

"Well, my team set this up. They gave me your name and details," you explained, and handed him an envelope for his tip.

Logan took the envelope from your hand. "Thanks," he grumbled, his voice still gruff but lacking the earlier edge. He stared at the envelope for a heartbeat, then tucked it into the console without opening it.

"Take care of yourself," he said abruptly as you reached for the door handle. There was an unexpected sincerity in his tone, and something subtle hidden in his words.

You paused, momentarily caught off guard. "You too, Logan," you replied, catching his eye in the mirror again.

A couple of days later, Logan was in the living room, while Laura flipped through the TV channels. She stopped at the Graham Norton Show, where the host was chatting with a guest. Logan was only half paying attention until he heard a familiar voice.

He looked up to see you, the same person he drove to the airport, sitting on the couch. You were laughing, looking much more at ease than the last time he saw you. Logan's eyes narrowed as he pieced together the realization that you were not just another passenger, but a well-known actress.

Laura, meanwhile, was getting impatient with trying to open up her chip bag, she shifted it closer, her claws extending with a sharp glint as she punctured the plastic. Crunch. Logan shot her a look—one that said, there’s no need for that, you know.

With a huff, he leaned back into the couch, folding his arms. "You’re gonna end up with chips all over the place, kid."

Laura glanced at him, momentarily unfazed, before shrugging and pulling her claws back, using her fingers instead. With a playful grin, she tossed a chip at him, catching him off guard.

"Hey! Don't waste the good stuff," he grumbled, half-serious, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a hint of amusement.

As you talked about your latest movie and upcoming projects on the television screen, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions tightening in his chest. It surprised him how deeply your image contrasted with the vulnerability he had perceived just days ago—your laughter bright and uninhibited, your charisma effortlessly drawing the audience in.

He could tell it was a facade, a protective mechanism he understood too well, yet something deep inside him… hoped it wasn't.

xx

Logan sat in the driver’s seat of the limo, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel as he waited for you. It had been a few weeks since that rainy encounter with you in the backseat. Since then, you had requested him for rides to work or miscellaneous events. Meeting you the first time was a moment he couldn't quite shake from his mind—it clung to him like a shadow. The weight of your anxious energy lingered, and your casual chatter had both intrigued and annoyed him. He wasn’t usually one for small talk, but there was something about you that drew him in, even if he’d never admit it.

As the weeks passed, your conversations grew more frequent, though still firmly rooted at the surface level. Logan noticed a few more bruises on you each time he saw you, but you never mentioned them, and he never asked. Despite the growing familiarity, there was a barrier that neither of you seemed willing to cross, leaving Logan to wonder about the secrets you were keeping and the reasons behind your seemingly unshakable composure.

When he received the notification about the pickup, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for what he saw when you emerged from your brownstone. You stepped out with an air of grace, the elegant, form-fitting dress you wore hugged your figure in all the right places. It was a stark shift from the casual attire he had seen you in before, a dazzling transformation that caught him off guard. It took him a second to regain his composure.

As you approached the car, he instinctively straightened up, feeling an unexpected urge to present himself more professionally, despite the surge of irritation he felt at being moved by your appearance. You slipped into the backseat, and he caught the faintest scent of your perfume, a mixture of something floral and fresh that lingered in the air.

"Hello, Logan," you greeted him.

"Hey," he replied, his tone clipped and his gaze momentarily flickering to the rearview mirror to catch your reflection. But it was then that he noticed something wrong, something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Just below your left eye, there was a delicate bruise that had been artfully camouflaged with makeup. It might’ve gone unnoticed to the average human, but Logan’s sharp and mutant observant eyes didn't miss a detail. It was the first time he had ever seen a bruise on your face.

You had done a remarkable job covering it, and yet, through the layer of foundation and concealer, Logan could see the faint tinge of it peeking through—a testament to someone having hit you. A wave of frustration washed over him. He hated seeing you like this, and he hated the idea of whoever the asshole was that was hurting you getting away with it.

As you settled into the seat, Logan’s mind raced with thoughts of the best way to approach the situation.

Logan decided to break the tense silence as he turned the key in the ignition "Where are you headed?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"I mean you tell me, you’re the one who’s taking me to the event," you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you adjusted your seatbelt.

Logan couldn’t help but smirk at your remark. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards despite his usually stern demeanor. "Fair enough," he said, his voice carrying a trace of dry humor.

Immediately, you felt a pang of guilt for your snarky remark. You sighed softly and decided to explain. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just... the venue you’re dropping me off at is for the Golden Globes,"

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to catch your reflection. "The Golden Globes? Isn’t that a big deal?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of disinterest in your demeanor "I guess,"

Logan couldn’t help but frown at your indifferent tone, leaning into the conversation a bit. "You guess?"

You sighed, squinting your eyes softly, staring out the window with a heaviness that didn’t escape him. "It is a big deal, I suppose. But sometimes it feels like just another event, you know?"

He could sense the weight of your words and the exhaustion behind them. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes the things that look glamorous from the outside can be drainin’ as hell."

You nodded, appreciating him not pushing it. "Exactly. It’s not always what it seems."

There was a moment of silent understanding.

"Laura mentioned you were in a movie she liked," Logan said, trying to keep the conversation light while his mind continued to process your bruise.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Laura? Is that your wife?"

Logan hesitated for a moment. "No, she's...my daughter," he clarified, the word "daughter" feeling heavy on his tongue. "well, uh, I guess recently adopted daughter, but uh, yeah, that’s who I take care of,"

You noticed the slight struggle in his voice, sensing the complexity behind his relationship with Laura. "That's nice. What's the movie she liked?" you asked, hoping to keep the conversation going and ease the tension.

Logan took a deep breath, concentrating on the memory of Laura's excitement flickering in his mind. "She really enjoyed that one where you played the, uh, corrupt CIA operative. Said you were pretty 'badass' in it,"

You laughed, throwing your head back into the headrest. "I'm glad she liked it. Tell her I appreciate the support,"

Logan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Will do,"

He glanced at the itinerary he had received on his app, noting that there was no request for a pickup after the event. His curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to ask, "Noticed you didn’t request a ride after the event. Got plans?"

You shifted slightly in your seat, your expression unreadable for a moment before you answered. "I won’t be going home tonight,"

Logan’s stomach tightened at your words. He had a good sense of what that meant. It probably meant you were staying at someone else's place—possibly the same bastard responsible for your bruises.

"Stayin’ with someone?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the concern gnawing at him.

You hesitated before nodding. "Yeah...something like that."

The thought of you being in a potentially harmful situation made him uneasy, but he knew he had to tread carefully. "If you need anythin’...or still need a ride or somethin’ later, or have an emergency, you have my information," he offered, his voice gruff but sincere.

"Thank you, Logan. I appreciate that," your eyes tracing his in the mirror.

Logan nodded, his jaw set. As much as he tried to suppress it, the uncomfortable feeling lingered. He couldn't help but worry about you and the situation you were in. The ride continued in a silence that felt heavy.

As the limo rolled to a stop at the venue, you gathered your things, preparing to step out. Before leaving, you reached into your bag and pulled out an envelope. "Here, for the ride," you said, handing it to him with a forced smile.

"Please tell me it’s less than last time," he muttered, remembering the absurdly generous tip you had given him. You had given him a $500 tip, claiming that if he hadn’t accepted your ride, he wouldn’t have been stuck in traffic for over an hour.  

You smirked. "Guess you’ll find out,"

Logan looked at the envelope, his eyebrows raising. "Isn’t it expensive to tip drivers like this all the time?"

"Who says this is how I usually tip my drivers?" you replied, your tone almost flirtatious.

As you stepped out of the car, Logan watched you disappear into the crowd of flashing lights and photographers. He silently hoped that you would reach out if you needed help, and that maybe, just maybe, things would get better for you.

He opened up the envelope. The tip inside made his jaw drop—$1000.

Later that night, he stood in the shower, the steam heavy around him as he worked his cock, the memory of you etched vividly in his mind—it all built towards a peak of contrasting emotions that left him grappling with shame. His eyes squeezed shut as he pictured your perfect face, your perfect body, your perfect voice, and the release that followed felt both exhilarating and tainted. He groaned into the shower when he finished and shot thick, white ropes of his come all over his hand, amidst a rush of conflicting feelings.

Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach while guilt crashed over him like icy water.

xx

A week later, you stood on the curb, fidgeting with your phone. You glanced over your shoulder at Donald, who leaned heavily against the side of the building, his laughter a little too loud, a little too unsteady. The buzz from the party clung to him like a cheap cologne, a suffocating scent that made your stomach churn.

You could have called an Uber, but deep down, you wanted something—someone—more familiar. Something that felt safe, and for some inexplicable reason, that meant Logan. He felt like an emergency contact of some sort. You could sense the tension that had built up between you two over your last few rides together, the air thick with unspoken words and guarded vulnerability; and yet, there was a strange comfort in that unease.

A familiar limo pulled up to the curb, and Logan's face came into view through the windshield—the lines of his face somehow holding a warmth you craved when the world turned too cold. He scanned your figure with sharp, concerned eyes that softened just a fraction when they met yours.

Taking a deep breath, you slid into the backseat, steadying yourself as Donald followed, chuckling awkwardly as he settled in beside you. Logan glanced at Donald in the rearview mirror, and you felt the tension crackle in the air. The scent of alcohol wafted in thick waves, filling the confined space of the limo with a sharp edge.

Logan’s expression hardened just slightly, a flicker of disapproval passing through his sharp features. "Where to?" he asked, his tone clipped and professional.

"Home," you murmured, feeling a weight of embarrassment wash over you. You wished the ground would swallow you whole. Your gaze drifted to Donald beside you, he reached over, trying to drape an arm around your shoulders, a gesture that felt both familiar and increasingly suffocating.

As you pulled away slightly, Logan’s brow furrowed in the rearview mirror. You could see it, hear it even, the unasked question lingering in the air: Why are you with him?

Meanwhile, Donald, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing, leaned back against his seat, chuckling at something only he found amusing. Suddenly, Donald broke the momentary silence that had settled in, his voice cutting through the quiet with a forced laugh. "You know, I’m surprised you decided to go home this early, babe," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

The "babe" felt grating against your skin. You adjusted in your seat, feeling trapped between Logan’s silent scrutiny and Donald’s unwanted affection. "I’ve had enough partying for one night," you said, trying to maintain your composure as irritation flickered in your chest. "And I was tired."

Donald let out a short, incredulous laugh, turning to you. "Tired? Or are you just looking for a fucking excuse to bail on me?" His voice held an edge now, frustration creeping in, and your stomach sank. You were all too familiar with that tone—one that walked a thin line between teasing and anger.

You looked at him, trying to decipher his gaze. "That’s not fair," you replied, your voice firm yet soft, hoping to diffuse the situation. "You know I’ve had a long week,"

Instead of calming him, your response only seemed to fuel the fire. "A long week?" he echoed, raising his voice. "Is that all it is or am I now just a fucking bore to you?"

Logan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sensed the change in the dynamics. You could see his jaw clench in the mirror, his eyes darting to you and then back to the road again, as if weighing his options on how to respond.

"Donald, can we not do this in the car?" you attempted to soothe the situation.

"Why? Because your ‘driver’ might see how much of a fucking cunt you’re being?" Donald shot back, the venom in his tone as palpable as a slap.

You felt your heart pound louder. Logan could feel the tension rapidly escalating and, with a glance at you, he noticed the fear dousing your composure. It was real, and he could no longer remain passive.

"Hey," Logan’s voice cut through the rising pitch of the argument. "You need to fuckin’ cool it," His words held an authority you hadn’t expected him to exert.

Donald’s anger verged on a boiling point, eyes narrowing at Logan, his hand clenching into a fist. "You need to mind your own fucking business,"

"Donald, calm down," you murmured, feeling your heart tighten with each breath as the anxiety swirled around you. "Can you just relax for a second?"

Donald’s eyes stayed locked on Logan, his expression darkening as if he was sizing him up. "Who the hell is this guy?" he spat, his tone dripping with arrogance.

With that, Donald’s fingers gripped your jaw roughly, and heat surged through you—anger, embarrassment, fear, all colliding in a chaotic knot deep in your chest. You could feel the pressure of his touch, but it was the intensity of his gaze that truly unsettled you. The weight of his question hung heavily in the air, a challenge that echoed between the three of you.

"I asked you a fucking question, who is he?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if daring you to reveal Logan's significance. "You fucking him behind my back?"

You swallowed the sandpaper feeling down hard, summoning every ounce of defiance you had. "He’s just my driver, Donald," you asserted, forcing your voice to remain steady, though it trembled beneath the tension. "It’s nothing like that, Jesus, what’s the matter with you?"

"Look how cute you think you are making excuses. I bet you eat that shit up, don’t you?" Donald’s grip didn’t ease, and you turned your head slightly, breaking his hold. "Let go of me," you urged, your voice firmer now.

The sudden jolt of the car coming to a stop sent your heart racing, confusion and fear mingling in a heady concoction as Logan’s sharp voice pierced the tension-filled air. "Get out," he commanded, his tone brokering no room for argument. You watched in disbelief as he shifted into park, then pushed the door open with a decisive motion.

In a swift motion, Logan stepped out of the car, rounding the hood and before you could process, he had Donald by the collar of his shirt. You held your breath as Logan pulled Donald out of the backseat and you could hardly believe what you were witnessing.

"Logan, wait—" you managed to choke out, but it was too late. With a clean, measured motion, Logan swung his fist, connecting with Donald’s jaw. The sound of the punch echoed around you, raw and visceral. Donald stumbled backward, surprise etching itself onto his features, followed by a trace of anger as he regained his footing.

"How bout’ you pick on someone your own size," Logan warned, his voice a growl, low and dangerous.

For a split second, nobody moved, and your hand was clasped over your mouth in shock. Donald’s surprise morphed into rage as he wiped his mouth, glancing between you and Logan. Donald, reeling from Logan's punch, narrowed his eyes in a fierce glare. The adrenaline surged within him as he charged forward, swung his fist in a wild attempt to land a blow on Logan. But Logan was already prepared, he sidestepped the wild punch effortlessly.

With a quick shift of his weight, Logan unleashed another punch, this time connecting squarely with Donald's midsection. The impact was immediate; Donald doubled over, gasping for breath as the air rushed out of his lungs like a punctured balloon. By the time Donald found his balance again, Logan's hand darted out, catching Donald by the throat, his thumb pressing firmly just below the jawline. But it was more than just a grip; out from Logan's knuckles, metal claws extended, and he set just enough pressure to assert dominance without inflicting serious harm.

It then dawned on you that Logan was a mutant. It was rare to meet them these days, especially since no mutants had been born in a long time. Therefore, they usually lived in secret.

"Let me make this crystal clear," Logan snarled, his voice menacing. "You go anywhere near her again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you."

The promise hung heavily in the air, a palpable threat that twisted the energy in the surrounding space. The tension continued to hang as Donald's eyes widened, his breath coming short. The claws pressed against his throat, he tried to choke out a retort, but you could tell that words were failing him.

"Do you understand me?" Logan's voice dropped an octave, each word heavy —a warning, clear and concise. Donald's bravado faltered, and for the first time, he seemed to grasp the danger he’d placed himself in.

Donald hesitated, and for a split moment, you could see the gears in his mind turning. Then anger flared again, fierce and indignant as he tried to regain some ground. Logan didn’t flinch.

Finally, he let hm go and Donald backed down, an expression of defeat replacing the anger in his eyes. Donald glanced back at you, the desperation palpable. "Think you’ll be happy with a fucking low-life driver?" he sneered, his tone icy. "Guess I was right about you all along—you’re just a fucking whore," Then he turned on his heel, stomping away from the car.

A heavy silence followed Donald's retreat, and Logan remained rooted near the car, his breathing steady as he collected himself. He took a deep breath and retracted his claws back into his knuckles.

It looked painful.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Logan in a tight hug. Logan stiffened at first, clearly not used to such gestures, but after a moment, he tentatively returned the embrace, his strong arms providing a sense of security you desperately needed.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling, tears pouring down your face as you felt more and more defeated.

Logan’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked somewhat bewildered by your touch. "Just doin’ what needed to be done," he muttered, his gruff voice barely hiding the concern he felt for you.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with teary eyes, and a quivering lip. "Logan...I’m scared. I don’t want to go back to my place. Can I...can I go home with you tonight?"

Logan’s eyes searched yours, seeing fear etched across your face. After a beat, he nodded. "Yeah, you can come with me. It’s gonna be alright,"

He ran his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head, surprising you and himself with the gesture.

He guided you back to the limo, making sure you were comfortable in the passenger seat this time. As he drove, the tension gradually eased, replaced by a quiet determination to keep you away from that piece of shit.

And for the first time in a while, you felt… safe.

xx

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently coaxing you awake. You took in the unfamiliar, yet comforting surroundings of the guest room Logan had set up for you.

After rubbing your eyes a few times, you slipped out of bed and quietly made your way downstairs. The house was still and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you heard the faint sound of a television and followed it to the living room.

There, you found a young girl lounging on the couch, her eyes fixed on the screen. The moment she noticed you, her eyes widened in shock. She sat up quickly, clearly not expecting to see you in her home.

"Hi," you said softly, offering a tentative smile. "I’m sorry if I startled you,”

She blinked a few times, processing your presence. "Oh... hi," she replied. "I’m Laura,"

"It’s nice to meet you,” you said biting your fingernail with worry, and feeling a bit awkward under her scrutiny. You introduced yourself.

Laura's eyes widened further, and she quickly masked her surprise with a knowing smile. "I know who you are," she said.

Before you could respond, Logan appeared in the doorway, his presence commanding as always. "Laura, you know the rules. No TV on Sundays until all the chores are done," he said firmly.

Laura's face scrunched up in frustration, and she began to mutter under her breath in Spanish, cursing softly. "¡Esto es una mierda! Nunca me deja hacer nada divertido." she complained. This is bullshit! He never lets me do anything fun.

You stepped in, your voice calm and soothing as you responded in Spanish. "Laura, no te preocupes. Termina tus quehaceres y luego podemos ver la televisión juntas," you said gently, hoping to defuse her frustration. Laura, don't worry. Finish your chores and then we can watch TV together.

Both Laura and Logan's eyes widened in surprise, clearly impressed by your fluency in Spanish. Laura's annoyance seemed to dissipate slightly, and she gave you a small, appreciative nod. "Por cierto, no habla español. 200 años en esta tierra y pensarías que lo habría aprendido. Es un maldito gringo.” He doesn't speak Spanish by the way, 200 years on this earth and you would think he would have picked it up. He's such a fucking gringo.

You chuckled softly, then leaned in slightly and put your hand on her shoulder. "Bueno, todos necesitamos un poco de ejercicio mental, ¿no? Quizás aprender español será su próximo proyecto," Well, we all need a bit of mental exercise, right? Maybe learning Spanish will be his next project.

Laura's eyes lit up with amusement, a small giggle escaping her lips. She nodded in agreement, clearly enjoying the playful exchange.

Logan huffed and crossed his arms, giving Laura a stern look. "I heard 'gringo,' and that's enough for me to know you're talkin’ shit," he said, his tone reprimanding.

Laura rolled her eyes dramatically but headed up the stairs to finish her chores, grumbling softly in Spanish as she went.

Once she was out of sight, Logan turned to you, curiosity evident in his expression. "What did she say?" he asked.

"You should learn Spanish to find out," you replied, teasing him gently.

Logan stood there, watching you with a mixture of awe and something else he couldn't quite place. He'd always known you were beautiful; it was hard not to notice. But there was something different about you this morning. Seeing you here, in his home, with no makeup, and wearing his clothes.

It was driving him a bit crazy inside.

The way the soft morning light played across your features highlighted your natural beauty. Your hair, slightly tousled from sleep, framed your face in a way that made him want to reach out and touch it. The way his oversized T-shirt draped over your figure was both endearing and maddening. It was as if you belonged here.

Logan's mind raced with thoughts he didn't usually entertain. He felt a protective urge rising within him, stronger than before. It was more than just wanting to keep you safe; he wanted to be near you, to understand you more deeply.

"Didn't know you spoke Spanish," he remarked, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

You shrugged with a modest smile. "I studied abroad in Peru for a whole year back in college,"

You took a deep breath, your expression shifting to one of genuine gratitude. "Logan, thank you again for everything last night," you said softly.

"You don't have to thank me,"

"Still, it means a lot to me," you insisted, your voice full of earnestness.

Logan looked at you for a moment longer, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "You’re welcome," he said simply.

The morning continued with a sense of quiet understanding between you. The house gradually came to life as Laura finished her chores and joined you in the living room. She seemed more relaxed now, her earlier frustration was gone. The two of you settled onto the couch, chatting about various topics. Laura's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked you questions about your life, your career, and your interests.

Logan, sitting nearby observed the scene, he had never seen Laura so at ease with someone new, and it was fascinating to see her connecting with you so effortlessly. Your kindness and patience with her did not go unnoticed, and Logan found himself appreciating your presence even more. You answered her questions sharing amusing anecdotes and stories from your experiences. Laura listened intently, occasionally bursting into laughter at your witty remarks. It was clear that Laura felt comfortable with you.

After a while, you excused yourself to go back to the guest room to get changed. As you were getting dressed, you decided to make a quick call to your representatives. You kept your voice low, but the open door allowed your words to drift into the hallway where Logan happened to be passing by.

"I want a statement released today," you said firmly into the phone. "Make it clear that Donald and I have broken up."

There was a brief pause as you listened to your agent's response. "Yes, and tell his team if he comes near me again, I’ll release the full story," you continued.

You knew this would enrage Donald. His ego was as fragile as it was inflated, and he despised losing control. However, you also knew that his reputation meant everything to him. The mere threat of exposing who he really was, especially now that you had a witness to back it up, would be enough to make him reconsider his actions.

However, his unpredictability meant you couldn't let your guard down. The thought of a restraining order crossed your mind—a necessary step to ensure your safety and keep his volatile nature at bay. You would discuss this further with your legal team, but for now, this was a starting point.

Logan stopped just outside the guest room door, his ears perking up at what he heard. As you finished the call and started to pack your things, Logan knocked softly on the doorframe, making his presence known. "Everythin’ alright?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

You turned to face him, the weight of the conversation still heavy in your eyes. "Yeah," you said, offering a small, weary smile.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, his heart heavy at the sight of you. The small smile you offered didn’t quite reach your eyes. He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the doorway. "You don't have to go back home if you don't want to," he offered, his tone gentle.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience," you replied, your voice incredibly soft and small.

Logan shook his head, his eyes firm but kind. "You're not an inconvenience. You're welcome to stay as long as you need,"

"I have to go home and deal with some shit anyways," you shrugged.

Logan's chest tightened with frustration. "Just stay one more night," he urged. "Please, humor me,"

You looked away. "I don’t want you to pity me," you said, and Logan felt a pang of disappointment at how deeply you misunderstood him and his offer.

"I don’t," he assured you, crossing the threshold into the room, closing the space between you. He could see the way you pulled your chin up defiantly.

"I never thought I would be this woman," you confessed. "The first time it happened with…" you couldn’t even bring yourself to say his name. "I didn’t even believe it. I just kept telling myself it was an accident… that something like this couldn’t be happening to me,"

Logan’s expression shifted, an undercurrent of pain flickering across his features. "It shouldn’t happen to anyone," he replied.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to show weakness. "Maybe it is my fault," you responded bitterly.

"Don’t fuckin’ say that that," his voice was stern, more forceful than he had ever been with you before. "You’re not responsible for his actions."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "It’s hard to remember that sometimes," you admitted.

"It's not your fault. No one deserves to be treated like that, no matter what," His deep gaze met yours, searching, pleading for you to believe him.

He watched you absorb his words, a flicker of walls crumbling behind your guarded demeanor. You swallowed hard, nodding in understanding but finding it difficult to let go of the guilt and shame that had clouded your mind for so long.

You took a deep breath before leveling out your voice. "Alright," you agreed. "I'll stay one more night."

Relief flooded him. "Good," he said. "Now, why don't we go back downstairs? Laura's probably waitin’ for you,"

You paused for a moment, glancing back towards the door. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you turned to Logan. "Laura is really special," you said sincerely.

"I know," he replied simply.

"She's lucky to have you," you added, meeting his gaze.

Logan looked down for a moment, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "And I'm lucky to have her," he said quietly.

xx

The drive to your place the next day was quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a chainsaw. Logan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes occasionally flicking over to you.

With every moment that passed, an unexpected pang resonated in his heart, a feeling both foreign and familiar. It tightened in his chest, as if his emotions were a tightly knotted string about to snap. Why was this so complicated? You had just been a passenger in his life, a client, yet here you were, an undeniable force that had disrupted his carefully maintained boundaries. He’d picked you up that rainy day, unaware that you would seep into his thoughts and challenge the very fabric of his resolve.

When Logan finally pulled up in front of your home, he put the car in park and turned to you, his gaze intense.

"I don’t have your tip," you said softly, "Do you want to come upstairs and I —"

"Look, I don’t want your money," he cut you off. The thought of accepting anything from you felt wrong.

But your expression shifted subtly, the light in your eyes flickering to something deeper, more profound. "Who says that the tip I was going to offer you was going to be money?" you countered, the quiet suggestion hanging between you two.

Logan’s breath hitched, caught off guard by your insinuation. The implications clawed at his insides like a wild beast—you were beautiful, young, successful, and rich. He couldn’t help but remember Donald’s words: Think you’ll be happy with a fucking low-life driver?

"Is that what you think you have to do?" he finally found his voice, though it held an undercurrent of disbelief. The thought of you offering something more than gratitude twisted something ugly deep within him. "You’re in a tough spot, and I’m not lookin’ to take advantage of that,"

"I’m a grown woman," you stated pointedly, cocking your head up at him, pissed off at his remark. "I know what I want, and I want you. Right now. Even if it’s just once."

Those words hung in the air like a powerful incantation, and Logan felt the world narrow to just you and him, the rest of everything else fading into a dull hum. He could almost hear the thudding of his own heart, drowning out the rush of thoughts swirling through his mind.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto Logan's. "Please, don't treat me differently because of what you know," you begged softly. "Just imagine it's the first time we met, when you dropped me off at the airport,"

Logan's jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded slightly, trying to push aside the weight of everything he knew.

"I thought you were very handsome," you continued, your hand sliding up his chest. "Did you find me attractive?"

Logan's mind raced as he processed your question. The idea that you might doubt if he found you attractive seemed absurd to him. "Yeah," he choked out. "I thought you were gorgeous," he admitted, his voice completely sincere. "And strong. I could see it in the way you carried yourself."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a shy smile starting to grow. "Yeah?" you asked, tilting your head.

Logan reached out, rubbing his thumb across your mouth. "You're still all those things," he said softly, his other hand began to trail slight circles up your back. "And more," he swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He could see the fire in your gaze, the determination that dared him to step forward. The combativeness in your demeanor was a stark contrast to the uncertainty that often clouded his own feelings. You were sure of yourself, and in that, you drew him in like a moth to a flame.

A pulse of adrenaline surged through him—this was dangerous territory, but that thrill of you was almost too good to resist. He couldn't shake off the sensation of being utterly captivated by you, his instincts wrestling against the urge to pull away and the intoxicating desire to dive headfirst into the depths of your proposition — and your pussy.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in. The space between you vanished as he captured the moment, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle hesitation that quickly turned fervent. A soft moan slid through your lips when he parted your soft lips with his, allowing his tongue to extend into your mouth. The taste of your warmth and sweetness enveloped him, igniting the dormant feelings he had buried for far too long.

It was reckless. It was fleeting. And yet, it felt like the universe was aligning somehow, a collision of worlds where both of you could momentarily escape your realities. When he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours, Logan looked into your eyes, and for the first time, he felt a sense of clarity amidst the chaos.

"Just once?" he echoed your earlier comment, needing to anchor this moment and understand its magnitude.

You didn't need to answer; the intensity of what lay between you was already loud enough. But you still answered him anyway.

"Just once."

And though a thousand alarms blared in his mind, the intoxicating pull of this moment drowned them out. "Okay," he finally relented. "Let’s go upstairs,"

xx

It ended up happening more than once.

At this point, you couldn’t count how many times you and Logan had fucked over the last three months.

Somehow, your emergency contact had become a permanent fixture in your life. And you had to admit, you were completely happy with that.

You woke up and could feel Logan’s left arm wrapped around your chest as he slept on his stomach. After looking at him, you quickly unwrapped his arm from around you, laid it back on his side, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then, you quietly stood up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. His house felt quiet; Laura was at a sleepover. You were a bit anxious because her classmates had no idea that she was a mutant. To protect her, you and Logan always reminded her to keep her unique abilities a secret.

It was hard to believe she was turning 12 soon; she had grown so much in the short time you knew her. What would she want? She was obsessed with comic books — especially the X-Men. You considered what Logan might think—he would probably veto anything too mainstream. Maybe you could get her some new sunglasses, even though you had to admit that the gas station pair she had were so fucking cute on her.

As you waited for the coffee to brew, you leaned against the counter, lost in thought. Your mind drifted back to dinner at your brownstone a few nights ago—you remembered Laura’s innocent voice breaking the comfortable hum of conversation. "Gracias, Mama," she had said, reaching for a piece of garlic bread that you had just passed her. The word slipped out effortlessly, and for a split second, the room had gone silent. You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t let the emotion spill over; you didn’t want to embarrass her or make a deal about it. After all, she was just a child—it might have been an innocent slip.

Logan had noticed your reaction. He had seen the way your eyes had glistened with unshed tears, the way you had tried to mask your emotions. Under the dining room table, he had reached out and gently grabbed your thigh, his touch grounding and reassuring. You had looked at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt a silent understanding pass between you. Words unspoken, but deeply felt.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

You realized that you were addicted to Logan; it felt like your libido had skyrocketed since the first time you two slept together. He was insatiable, and honestly, you were just as bad. He was always ready to pounce on you, making you always feel desired. You were mindful that you were in the honeymoon stage of whatever ‘this’ was. It felt silly to call him your ‘boyfriend’, he was so much more than that. Plus, you had jumped into the role of a caregiver without even realizing it—playing the part of a surrogate mother figure in his daughter’s life. That felt much more intimate than just being a ‘girlfriend.’

You two had fucked in some interesting places. The last time he visited you on set, you rode him on the couch in your trailer, bouncing on his cock as he thrust up hard and fast into you while telling you: "Show me how pretty you sound when you come on my cock, sweetheart," He might have been a little jealous of your co-star and was marking his territory. "Say my fuckin’ name," — actually he might have been very jealous.

I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have your jealous moments either. One day, you two came home from a bar, and you told him you didn’t feel like talking after you saw some young woman shoving her breasts in his face and touching his arm. He was having none of that and pushed you up against the wall in his hallway, ripped off your panties, and shoved them in your mouth so that you wouldn’t wake up Laura with your screams. He shoved his fingers inside of your soaking cunt and told you to fuck yourself on them, adding that he didn’t necessarily appreciate how the bartender had been eye-fucking you all night long either. Once you came, he took no mercy on you and fucked you with wild abandon against the wall, telling you: "Your perfect fuckin’ pussy has ruined me for any other woman," as he came deep inside of you, which set off your next orgasm.

I adore you. I adore you. I adore you.

You also learned quickly that he loved to go down on you. You thought it was because he enjoyed hearing you beg and watching you squirm. "Please, Logan, I need you," always got him so riled up. But you also noticed that he sometimes needed it more than you did. He would come home from work, put you on the bed, and lower himself to his knees, telling you that he needed to feel and taste you. A few weeks ago, he bent you over the hood of his limo, eating you out from behind as his tongue flattened against you, holding you open with his hands on your ass while he groaned against you. It was fucking filthy.

I need you. I need you. I need you.

Logan was more of a giver than a receiver. You often had to remind him that you liked to make him feel good too. The last time he let you have your way with him, he told you: "You look so good with your mouth full, can’t wait to come down your tight little throat," His hips rolled forward, his jaw hanging open as you swallowed him down, his thighs trembling from the aftershocks of his release. But most of the time, he would pull your mouth off his cock, looking pained, telling you that you needed to stop, insisting that he wanted to come inside of you instead.

I want you. I want you. I want you.

Having Logan inside of you always felt indescribable. No matter how rough and dirty it was, even when he was spewing complete and utter filth at you, he always made you feel safe. Then there were the times when he was slow, gentle, and tender, and you could feel the desperation radiating from him while he was inside you. You thought he might be the only man who had ever truly made love to you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The coffee machine beeped, signaling that your coffee was ready, and you felt Logan’s arms wrap around your waist as he snuck up on you. "Good mornin’ baby," he lazily drawled, planting lazy kisses on your neck.

"Good morning handsome, I was going to bring this to you in bed," you replied, smiling as you turned to face him. He planted soft kisses on your forehead, temple, eyelids, and then gently rubbed his nose along your cheek before crushing his mouth to yours — almost abusively, sliding his tongue through your lips immediately. The kiss escalated quickly, heat rising between you as you felt his erection pressing against you.

"I need somethin’ else before this coffee," he murmured as he picked you up and set you on the counter, pulling your panties down from under your satin babydoll.

You let out a small gasp as the cool surface of the counter met your skin, contrasting with the heat radiating from Logan. His hands were strong and possessive as they cupped your thighs, spreading them apart. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cunt, hissing when he saw the pool of arousal waiting for him.

"Logan," you warned playfully, knowing fully well that once he started, there would be no stopping him, especially not when he was in this kind of mood.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you, igniting all the butterflies in your stomach. "C’mon, baby. Just a little taste," he teased, his thumb brushing against your sensitive skin just above where you craved his mouth. "You know you love it,"

And he was right. You did love it.

"You think that coffee’s still gonna make it to bed?" he teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, peppering soft kisses along your thighs.

"Maybe not," you replied, glancing towards the coffee maker and then back at him with a grin.

"Well, I think we can find somethin’ better to do," he said simply, as he inched closer to your dripping hole. "Just the two of us,"

"Just you and me?" you murmured, fingers grazing his cheek.

"Always, baby," he promised looking up at you from between your legs, and in that moment, you knew he meant every word.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

xx

^Logan sending you pictures of Laura while you’re on set.

[reidingandwriting]

need him to put his hands around my throat and fuck me like he hates me tbh

[reidingandwriting]

Like A Prayer > w.w. & l.h

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Deadclaws x Reader

Warnings/Contains: Cursing, Wade having chronic pain, a little anxiety all around, and the last bit. Is pure sex tbh. We’ve got a 4 + 1 fic baby, and that plus one,,, they’re just fucking tbh.

A/N: So sorry this took ages 🧍🏻‍♀️ I’m not 100% happy with the smut at the end of the chapter But!! more smut is coming, potentially featuring sub!Logan 👀😗

Previous chapter

i.

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Wade dealt with chronic pain. Most days it was manageable, he told you. Just a little annoying, like a new pair of shoes that squeaked when you walked. Except the shoes never got broken in and the squeaking never went away. His pain never fully went away either, his metabolism too high for any pain meds to work.

All this to say, him being in pain was just a fact of life. He was Deadpool. He had somehow by the grace of every god out there bagged not one, but two partners- one of them being the fucking Wolverine- who could tolerate his shit and even match it. He was also in pain every waking moment. Facts. But like he said, it was usually manageable.

Today was different. He knew last night it would be; your heater had crapped out last night and it would get fixed today, even if you had to go full Karen. But that didn’t help Wade now. The early morning chill seeped into his bones, muscles contracted, aching with every breath. Definitely didn’t help that he’d had a long night of Deadpooling last night.

Wade blindly reached out, feeling for the living heater known as Logan, but whined when he was greeted with a cold side of the bed. He must be out already.

“Wade? Wha’s wrong?” Your voice was thick with sleep, speech slurring slightly as you sat up.

“Just cold. And feel like my body is made of lead, fuck.” Wade groaned and you frowned.

“Do you feel up to walking? I can run a warm bath and I’ve got some epsom salts.” Walking was the last thing on Wade’s mind, but you wanted to help him. Wade could see the way you were fidgeting, your urge to take care of him taking over. Always such a mother hen. And a warm soak would probably do some good.

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” And with the smile you gave him in response, how could he say no to you?

It took him an embarrassingly long time to get to the bathroom and he was irritated with himself, but you were still so gentle with him. More patient than he deserved. You let him struggle a little to undress, which his pride appreciated. As much as he loved being babied, as much as you loved babying him, you seemed to know when he needed to do things himself. Even if it was impractical, even though your hands kept twitching, ready to jump into action and help him. You talked about some baking show you started watching last week with Logan as you ran the bath to fill the silence and Wade appreciated the distraction.

Once you were happy with your work, you helped Wade into the bathtub and you couldn’t help but smile at the content sigh that left him. Wade’s eyes slipped closed, the warmth enveloping his body, and you sat beside him, forearm dipped in the water as you held his hand.

By the time Wade was ready to leave the bath, you gave him a little space to get dressed again. Only after assuring he’d be okay by himself. You mentioned having some surprise for him in the living room you needed to set up and Wade’s curiosity won out. Besides, he did feel better after his soak.

Minutes later, he heard commotion as he exited the bathroom and the sight in front of him had him floored. The couch was covered in blankets and had been dragged up a few feet. You were on the floor, finishing up building… what was that? Wade cleared his throat and you jumped.

“Shit, you scared me! Sorry, I’m just finishing setting this up. Go on and get comfy.”

“Whatcha got there, cupcake?” Wade asked but obliged. He walked over to the couch and wrapped the cozy navy blanket around him before taking a seat. “Switching from bartending to a construction career?”

“Never. Those blue collar boys work too early for me. Much prefer my late nights and our lazy mornings. This is an electric fireplace. Can be used for ambience but also lets off a fair amount of heat, according to reviews. Apparently it could be tomorrow before our heat is fixed, and it’s been killing me watching you miserable, baby.” Wade’s heart skipped a beat at the still new pet name.

“You, you bought this for me?” Wade willed his voice to stay steady but he must have failed given the look you gave him when you looked up at him.

“Of course I did.” You sounded confused, pausing for a moment before it dawned on you. “Wade… you know I love you, right?” Wade nodded, his eyes beginning to water. “This is your home. You deserve to be comfortable and if I can do anything to help you out, I’m gonna do it.” The fireplace clicked on and almost immediately, Wade could feel the heat blowing towards the couch. His whole body felt warm, and it wasn’t from the fireplace or the blankets.

“What holy being did I deliver the fucking of a lifetime to in order to deserve you?” Wade asked. You took a seat on the couch, laying back against one of the arms and gestured for him to join you. Wade positioned himself in between your stretched out legs, his back against your chest as you both laid out.

You massaged his shoulders, pressing gentle kisses wherever you could reach as Wade turned to putty in your hands until his breathing slowed, his chest eventually rising and falling in his familiar sleeping pattern. A mid day nap never hurt anyone, you reasoned as your own eyes closed.

ii.

Logan liked watching you and Wade. No one was on the same level as him- his energy and his ability to blabber on and on unmatched- but you never seemed to have trouble keeping up. It was nice, seeing someone who could match Wade’s energy. Even on days you weren’t as hyper, you were attentive. Even during his ten millionth time rambling about the last episode of whatever trashy reality show you were watching, you listened to him intently, as if he was explaining how the inner workings of the universe.

That was one thing that took Logan a while to get used to. How attentive you were. How dedicated to the both of them you were. It was easier to watch it with you and Wade. Easy to watch Wade open and close his hand, his tell he was looking for something, the words escaping him as he asked for “the… the… FUCK you know what I’m talking about, the thingy!” and somehow, you always found the right thing. On the days Wade cooked- a rare occurrence, but he did make a delicious breakfast- you sat on the counter, ready to assist. You wore one of Wade’s shirts, one of the My Little Pony characters on the front- Pinkie Pie, Logan thought?

You and Wade were deep in conversation, your legs swinging lightly as your hands moved in the air, your words getting faster as you got more excited. Logan sat at the dining table, mug of coffee steaming in his hand and he felt your gaze land on him. How long had he been staring?

“Having a senior moment, peanut?” Wade asked and you scowled, lightly kicking at the side of Wade’s leg.

“Be nice, gremlin.” Wade maturely stuck his tongue out at you and you rolled your eyes, fondness evident in your smile, before you looked back at Logan. “You okay, bub?” Logan’s heart felt like it stopped working briefly, loving when you used his pet name for you and Wade back at him. He was not gonna read too deeply into what exactly that said about him, but it filled him with a warm, pleasant feeling.

“‘m okay. Just don’t know how you two wake up with so much energy.” Wade must have opened his mouth and you swatted his arm, causing Wade to laugh.

“It’s a curse and a blessing,” you said solemnly, the corners of your lips twitching in amusement when Logan chuckled.

“Alright, honey bears, breakfast is done. And I believe the apron does say kiss the cook, and who am I to disrespect the ancient art of a Homegoods apron?” You grabbed Wade by the frilly sides of the apron, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Wade’s eyes opened comically wide before he melted into your touch, quite literally melting as he gripped the counter for support.

You giggled at the dazed expression on his face, making grabby hands at Logan. Logan rolled his eyes, a fondness in the motion as he walked over and pressed his lips against Wade’s. It was softer than your kiss, but passionate all the same. Logan’s hand cupped the back of Wade’s neck, holding him in place for a moment before pulling away. Wade honest to god whined, stomping his feet a few times. “Fuck, why are both of you so god damn hot?”

The three of you ate breakfast, talking happily. You had a night off and you were looking forward to a rare quiet moment with Logan. You didn’t get to have much one-on-one time with him due to your opposite schedules, unlike Wade. You loved your lazy mornings with Wade, getting to dote on him and loving all the attention he gave you.

The day went by smoothly. You had recently gotten Animal Crossing (a much calmer game after the last Mario Kart fiasco) and you all played together for a bit. You ordered lunch, none of you feeling up to cooking at the moment, and you continued watching Hell’s Kitchen. Logan fixed a hole in the wall from the Mario Kart incident, you did the dishes from breakfast and Wade folded the laundry. It was sickeningly domestic and you loved every minute of it.

After you cooked dinner and the men bickered while on dish duty, Wade pouted as he stood by the door, mask still in hand. You were on your third ‘one last kiss’ and you gave Wade an unimpressed look when you felt his hands squeeze your ass.

“It’s my good luck charm!” Wade whined and you rolled your eyes, yet pressed one more kiss to his lips. “Gonna let me cop a feel, peanut?” Wade smirked at Logan. Logan walked over, cupping Wade’s jaw in his hand before kissing him goodbye.

“Don’t let your mouth get you in trouble, bub.” Wade groaned, letting his head thud against the door before he finally had the strength to leave.

“No R rated activities without me! Miss you already.” Wade blew kisses to you and Logan both once his mask was on and the door shut behind him with a soft click. A few beats of silence passed before you turned to Logan.

“Mario Kart?”

“Let’s fucking go.” Logan grinned, a little feral and you couldn’t help but match it. Let’s fucking go.

“You cheater! You skewered Wade for cheating last time but you’re the cheater!” You swatted Logan’s chest, him shaking from laughter, and you tossed the controller aside. “Get out of my house.”

“Bub, don’t be a sore loser,” Logan said through laughter as he pulled you into his lap, pressing a few gentle kisses to your cheeks. “I was tactful.”

“You know I’m distracted by shiny things and you whipped your claws out.” You huffed and Logan chuckled, a deep sound in his chest. “Mean.”

“Yeah, ‘m the worst.” You turned to bury your face in his neck, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Glad we agree. I think I get date night input for that one,” you said and Logan wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his hands on your thighs.

“Sounds like a plan.” Later that night, the two of you sat on a blanket, in some grassy area away from town. A can of beer in each of your hands, you tucked into his side as you looked up at the sky.

“It’s nice to see some stars for once. I know we can see some at home, but there’s so many more out here. Can actually see a few constellations.” Logan listened as you pointed out a few, occasionally sparing you a glance as you pointed at the sky. “You’re staring,” you said after a minute, looking up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Logan said simply and you swore there was a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “And you’re too fuckin’ good for me. Always… always treat me so gentle. Always giving me what I don’t even realize I need.” And you did. You managed to match the energy of whoever you were with- a little crazy with Wade, but quieter with Logan. Passionate all the same, but you focused on actions with Logan over your words. Your words were deliberate with him, and your actions always solidified them. He was good, you said with a kiss to his forehead. You’re more than what they made you, you whispered as you curled into him at bedtime.

“You deserve it.” You sounded so sure, like it was an objective fact and not just your opinion. Being around you and Wade had helped with how he viewed himself, however you don’t easily erase two hundred plus years of self loathing and self deprecation. You sure took it as a challenge, though.

Logan felt his eyes burn with unshed tears and he kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering. You sat outside for a while longer until the cold started to get to you, and Logan shed his jacket, wrapping it around you before you started to head home. Music played faintly over the car radio and the quiet between you two was peaceful. He was your solace, and you were his.

iii.

You had been running around the house for hours now. This was the first big get together for Wade and Logan’s friends and you felt sick to your stomach. What if they all hated you? Wade and Logan had both tried to tell you everything would be okay, but you honest to god growled at them and both men blinked in shock as they watched you walk away.

“That’s your fault, your rabies infected her.” The claws in his side were worth it, until they heard you yell.

“If you get bloodstains on my floor, you’re both on the couch for a week!” They hurried off, Wade going to change clothes and Logan getting paper towels.

In the midst of all your prepping, you didn’t realize Wade and Logan were worried for you to meet their friends. Worried they’d combine and be too much, a subconscious whisper of concern over how their mutations would come across. The rational parts of their brains knew they had nothing to worry about- you chose to be with Wade and Logan and they definitely weren’t a walk in the park. Yet still, they worried.

Turns out none of you needed to worry because within ten minutes of everyone arriving, everything was in smooth sailing. Laura, Yukio, and Ellie had quickly pulled you into their group. Soon, the living room was full of talking and laughter, like it was a reunion of lifelong friends instead of several different new friend groups mashed together.

Logan sensed your mood shift- a subtle thing, but he couldn’t help but look at you, worried. Logan excused himself from his conversation with Elektra, walking over to you. “Can I steal you for a minute?”

“Gross, go kiss on your own time.” Laura huffed, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Brat.” Logan gently butted the heel of his palm against Laura’s head, chuckling as he took you to the privacy of your room. “Everythin’ okay, bub?”

You nodded but your eyes welled up with tears all the same, and within seconds, Logan pulled you into his chest and your shoulders shook as you silently cried.

“See, you’re saying you’re okay, but your crying has me thinkin’ otherwise.” You let out a wet laugh at his reply and you looked up at him.

“I’m so happy,” you sobbed and Logan brushed your hair back. “I’ve never… never really had a family before. Yeah, I had my parents but they were absent more often than not and then I was still just a kid when they left. I’ve lived in this house for years all by myself, then I made Wade. Then you came along, and everyone out there. I’ve always wanted this and now I finally have it.” Oh, and if that didn’t make Logan’s heart shatter for you.

A soft knock at the door interrupted and Logan looked over to see Wade walking in. “Heard someone was hogging my favorite human and- oh, honey.” Wade cooed when he saw your face. “Happy or sad tears?”

“So happy,” you whispered, opening your arm for Wade to join you. Wade quickly situated himself with the two of you and Wade pressed a kiss to the top of your head. The three of you stood together for a little longer as you pulled yourself together and you eventually pried yourself free. “Do I look like I just sobbed my eyes out?”

“So much,” Wade teased and you scowled up at him. Wade wiped under your eyes with his thumb before kissing your forehead, cheeks, nose, then lips. “You look beautiful. Hiding it very well.”

“Let’s go back. Shitty hosts we are, huh?”

The rest of the night went smoothly, all things considered. Somehow you managed to cook enough for there to be leftovers, and everyone settled in the living room as they ate and talked. You had been pulled into Wade’s lap in your search for a spot to sit and your free hand traced over Logan’s.

“How is your sanity in tact with these two?” Ellie asked and you heard the teasing tone to her words, but instinctively, you felt a surge of protectiveness crash over you at her lighthearted jab. Logan nudged your hand with his own and you took a long, slow breath.

“It’s easy,” you said with a shrug. “They’re family. Never had one of those before, but I feel like the luckiest person in the universe to be able to love them and be loved by them. They’re pains in the ass, but they’re my pains in the ass.”

“Oh, cupcake, that is the sweetest thing you could ever say about me,” Wade wailed dramatically, covering your cheek in kisses. And that was that. Neither Wade or Logan left your side for the rest of the night, even after the guests left. You stayed on the couch for a while, basking in the love you felt from your family. Family. What a wild concept that was.

iv.

Date night. An odd concept to Wade and Logan, but neither had the heart to shut you down with how excited you were.

You knew the basics of Logan’s past- he wasn’t a date night kind of guy. He had a long history of casual partners, but his relationship experience was… limited to say the least. Pairing that with his introverted nature and general dislike of being around people, he hadn’t been on many dates. None that he could remember.

And then there was Wade. Wade had dated once before, but since that ended… since he looked the way that he did, he kept his outside time limited to Deadpool time. If he braved the real world without his mask, it was typically at Sister Margaret’s or the occasional slow night at your bar. He may sound vain, but he was fairly attractive before his… transformation. You and Logan looked past his appearance, you frequently complimenting him and Logan giving him compliments every now and then that genuinely made him blue screen. But his insecurities ran further than surface level, and outside of the safety of his partners and his friend group, he felt uncomfortable showing his face. Even with his guard dogs, he could feel every double take or stare.

So when you mentioned a date, both men were apprehensive. But you promised you’d find something that would meet their comfort levels and if at any point anyone felt uncomfortable, you’d leave. End of, point blank. No questions asked. Hesitantly, they agreed and the pure excitement that lit up your expression- mixed with a bit of hope- made *some* of their worries melt away.

You were secretive about most of the planning, wanting to keep an element of surprise to the date. All you told them was you’d have privacy and they just needed to dress comfortably. The days passed and the time of your date approached, and Wade couldn’t help but feel a little sick to his stomach. Logan expressed his anxieties differently than Wade, him channeling his nerves with projects outside. Your small lawn had never looked better and your back porch had turned into a screened in porch, something you had nearly cried over from the joy you felt. Wade busied himself with his ‘housewife’ duties, laundry and tidying.

The night finally came and you had situated yourself in the drivers seat of a SUV you rented. No matter how much Wade pestered you, you didn’t relent and tell him why you had rented the vehicle when you had a perfectly fine car. You had been driving for a little while, out of the city, past the suburbs, until the flux of neighborhood lights had turned into stars littering the sky. Logan sniffed, getting a hint of food stored in the back of the vehicle and he jumped when you poked his side.

“Quit trying to spoil it!” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him, a lightness to your tone he hadn’t heard in a while. You were excited, like a kid in a toy store, and he felt his own smile grow as he looked at you. Wade leaned over the center console, whining.

“I feel so neglected back here! I still think I could sit in your lap, peanut.” Wade huffed and Logan rolled his eyes as Wade draped himself over Logan’s shoulder.

“Codependent.” Logan scoffed but made no effort to move him.

“And what about it?” Wade nudged his nose against Logan’s cheek and you smiled, watching the two of them out of your peripheral.

“Alright, I think we’re here!” You pulled into the empty grassy field, driving down the dirt path.

“Sweetness, lovingly, where the hell is here?” Wade asked. “Because it looks a little run down.”

“Patience, ye of little faith. You’ll see.” You drove further down the path and moments later, the drive in theater made itself known. There were a few other cars but it was mostly empty tonight, something you were happy to see. “It’s not as extravagant as I wanted,” you started as you parked the car. “But I figured it would be a good start to going out in public. Still private enough, but a step forward.” You didn’t meet either of their gazes, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Is, um, is it okay?”

Logan moved first, unbuckling you and pulling you into his lap. He hugged you close and you curled into his chest, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulder. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You did great, cupcake.” Wade climbed across the console, awkwardly positioning himself to join the hug. “It’s perfect.” You quickly kissed Logan, then Wade, then clapped your hands lightly. “Let’s get set up.”

You got to work. You laid the back seats down then propped all the pillows up and laid out all the blankets. Wade got the radio set up while Logan helped you set the food up. You had packed some sandwiches, some other little snacks you knew everyone liked, and you made a popcorn run- ignoring Wade’s teasing ‘I thought dogs couldn’t eat corn’ directed at Logan and the playful growl that followed.

You piled into the back of the SUV, you taking your spot in the middle of the blanket pile you made. It was a bit of a tight fit, but the three of you curled together anyways, watching the (kind of shitty to be honest) horror movie that played. You spent the time together making comments about the movie, laughing and quietly talking for the duration of the movie. It felt nice to be out of the house, but normal at the same time. By the end of the double feature, you were half asleep as you looked up at Logan through your lashes.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a shaky breath escaping him. “This is the most effort anyone has ever put in for me. ‘ppreciate it and you so much.”

“Happy to do it. Love you both so much.” You buried your face in Logan’s chest, missing the look he and Wade exchanged.

“We love you too.”

+1

You were going to die. You were certain of it. Between the two of them, you were going to die and be revived- just to die again. But fuck, there was no better way to go. Sitting in Wade’s lap, only the thin layers of your underwear separating you, kissing him while Logan sat behind you. Kissing down your neck and hands roaming your body as if trying to memorize every detail about you.

You whined as you rutted against Wade’s lap, a broken sound as Logan’s thumbs brushed over your nipples. You arched into his touch, wanting- no, needing- more.

“Fuck, enough fucking foreplay. Fuck me,” you huffed and Logan’s deep chuckle followed.

“Impatient, aren’t ya, needy girl?” Logan’s breath fanned against your neck, causing your skin to erupt in chills. “I think we’re just getting started. Aren’t we, Mouth?” Logan looked up at Wade, a feral gleam in his eyes. Wade’s own eyes darkened, a strangled groan leaving his mouth.

“Fuck, Wolvie. Alright, let’s get ‘er prepped.” The two of them worked seamlessly, adjusting you into a more comfortable position. Wade leaned back against the headboard, you laid back against his chest. Your legs were spread, propped over Wade’s own, and Logan knelt in between your legs.

“Need you closer,” Logan grabbed your legs, propping them up against your shoulders and you whimpered at the feeling of his breath against your core. You clenched around nothing, squirming as Wade’s hands trailed up and down your body. With Logan’s help, you shimmied out of your underwear, letting them fall discarded to the floor.

Logan kissed up your thighs, moving closer and closer to where you wanted him. You bucked your hips, Logan’s grip tightening on your hips. “Patience, baby. Not going anywhere for a while.” Logan punctuated his sentence spreading your lips and licking a fat strip over your hole.

The moan that left you was Loud, your eyes rolling back into your head as you threw your head back against Wade’s chest. Wade’s hands cupped your breasts, gently squeezing and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Wade leaned down, kissing the corner of your ear and whispering.

“Gonna be so good for us, aren’t you, sweetheart? Gonna let Logan have his fun with you, then I’ll have my turn. Not gonna be leaving this bed for a while, not until we’ve pulled so many orgasms from you.” You moaned, breath hitching as Logan lapped at your cunt, your hand gripping his hair. A low rumble left him, the vibrations shooting up your spine and your thighs squeezed against his head.

“Wanna be good, gonna be so good for you,” you said. Logan plunged his tongue in your hole and you swore you saw stars. Logan’s nose brushed against your clit as he ate your pussy like a man starved. You had figured he was good with his mouth but holy fuck. Pleased noises left him frequently, your moans and whines only spurring him on and you gripped at his hair at would had to be a painful hold, but Logan seemed to get off on it.

“Fuck, Lo- feels so fucking good. Holy shit, you feel so good. Make me feel so good,” you babbled and Logan looked up at you through his lashes, pupils dilated and eyes a little hazy, and the sight (mixed with Wade’s fingers rubbing at your clit with expertise) had you clenching down on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head as he rode you through your first orgasm.

You honest to god pouted when Logan moved away until he crawled up to you, kissing you with such passion it made you dizzy. His tongue pressed into your mouth and the taste of you, mixed with the lingering alcohol on his lips from dinner, was intoxicating. His lips were slightly swollen when he finally parted and you knew you looked fucked out already.

“Alright, switcheroo time. About to Explode over here.” Wade spoke and to make his point, he rubbed his hard cock against your ass. You shifted, moving to straddle Wade, slowly rolling your hips down against his cock that strained against his boxers. You rubbed your hands down his chest, to his stomach, then hooked your fingers in the waistband.

“Poor baby, so neglected.” You cooed, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. You worked his boxers down, tossing them aside. “Whatcha think, pretty boy?” Wade shivered from the nickname, and you ran your hand up and down his thigh. “Does my favorite mouthy merc need my mouth? Whatever you want, baby.” One hand on Wade’s thigh, the other on his cheek.

“Mouth. Please, fucking need your mouth.” You nodded, looking over your shoulder at Logan as you slowly pumped Wade’s dick.

“Think you can handle prepping me?” You teased, smirking at Logan’s responding downright wolfish grin.

“Get comfortable, bub. Think I’m gonna get at least one more out of ya before I even consider fucking you.” And hot damn if that didn’t make you wet. You turned back to Wade, patting his thigh.

“On your back, prop your legs up. That’s it, good boy.” You snagged a pillow, positioning it under your stomach as you positioned yourself. While Logan had him beat, Wade certainly wasn’t lacking in the downstairs department and you barely stopped yourself from whining at the thought of the both of them stuffing you later.

Blinking once, you licked a stripe up the underside of Wade’s cock, smiling at the needy moan that fell from his lips. One of Wade’s hands fisted the sheets, the other moving down to grip your hair.

“Fuuuuck, fuck.” Wade moaned. You took Wade’s tip in your mouth, suckling softly, moaning when you felt Logan’s finger prodded at your entrance.

“Looks like all I needed to shut you both up,” Logan’s tone was taunting as he pushed his finger deeper, “was occupy your mouth. And get her mouth on you.” Logan moved his finger in and out as you moved your head further down Wade’s length.

“Oh, fuck off. Fucking- hnng- mouth from the gods. Shit!” Wade cursed as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking. Your nose brushed against his pelvis and you looked up at Wade through half lidded eyes.

“Fucking hell, cupcake, don’t- shit- don’t look at me like that if you want me to last.” You moaned when Logan added a second finger, Wade’s hips bucking as he felt the vibrations.

God, Wade finally fucking died and went to heaven- he could spend the rest of his life like this. The warmth of your mouth around his cock, muffled moans escaping you as you sucked his soul out of him through his dick, Logan finger fucking you from behind. Your stomach tightened, a sign you were close to cumming again, and you whined as you pushed back against Logan’s fingers.

“Gonna cum for me again, princess? Think you deserve it?” Logan asked, voice taunting as he brushed against your g-spot, the pressure almost causing you to buckle. Your pleas were muffled by the cock in your mouth and you whimpered. “What do you think, Red? I think it’s fair to make ‘er wait, until you’ve had your turn.” Logan set a relentless pace, fingers hitting just right every time, and you squirmed, jerking forward when Logan’s hand slapped your ass.

Wade moaned his agreement, hips bucking into your mouth. One of your hands held his hips, the other moving up to fondle his balls and Wade started to pant.

“Fuck, ‘m close, just like that, baby, shit!” You picked up the pace, and after one, two, three more bobs, Wade’s hands found the back of your head, holding you in place as he rode out his orgasm. You moaned as you swallowed, letting Wade pull you off. A few seconds passed before Wade was on you again, his lips against yours.

You kissed him the best you could, in between the breathy moans and whines as your orgasm got closer. Wade tilted your head up, latching onto your neck and pressing bites and sucking at the sensitive skin.

One thing you noticed quickly about the men was their love of leaving marks on you. Hickeys and scratch marks didn’t last long on Wade or Logan, their healing quickly removing the marks, but you? They lingered and it drove them crazy.

The room filled with needy whines, gasps, and a high pitched moan as your second orgasm crashed through you, and Logan continued pumping his fingers. “That’s it, darling, good girl.”

“Lo,” you whined, panting as Logan pulled out his fingers. He caressed your hip as he shifted towards Wade. A single look was all it took and Wade’s mouth was open, happily sucking Logan’s fingers clean.

“Turns out all I need to get your mouth to stop running is stuff it. Finally found a good use for that mouth, huh, Mouth?” Logan asked and Wade nodded, eyes glazed over.

You huffed from where you were underneath them and Logan squeezed your hip. “Feeling needy? How do you want us?”

And that’s how Logan ended on his back, you on top of him, and Wade behind you. You were so fucking full, impossibly full, but god you wanted more. You needed more and you raked your nails down his chest, throwing your head back against. “Fuck me like you mean it, Logan. Fill me up, make me scream so the entire street knows who I belong to.”

Going for his possessiveness was a cheap shot, but by the way his eyes darkened, a low snarl leaving him, god damn was it effective. The grip he held on your thighs was bruising, Logan and Wade thrusting into you in tandem. Wade’s chest was against your back, whispering in your ear.

“Fucking feel so good. Made for me, made for us. Gonna ruin you for anyone else, you’re ours.” Wade nipped at your ear, tugging the skin gently.

“Like I’d ever go anywhere else. You’re both mine, forever. Would, fuck!, would be happy staying in between the two of you forever.” Logan leaned up, wrapping his lips around your nipples and you arched into his touch with a properly pornographic moan. “Where, where else would I go?” You tugged Logan’s hair, tilting your head to the side so Wade had better access to your neck.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, moans and whines. Logan groaned deep in his throat, his thrusts getting a little sloppier but sharper- he was close. Based on the way Wade’s grip tightened on you, his babbling being replaced by needy noises and curses, your -god, you’ve lost count at this point- orgasm approaching.

“Fuck! Fuck, love you both so much. My boys, all mine. Close, shit, so close.” An animalistic growl left Logan, Wade biting down on your shoulder, and you felt both men twitch in you. “Fill me up, make me yours.” Your babbling was cut off by a broken moan, clenching down as your orgasm hit. Your vision went white, truly seeing stars, and it felt like you ascended from your body.

You came to a moment later, laid against Logan’s chest and Wade’s leg draped over the both of you, face buried into your shoulder blades. “There she is,” Logan’s voice was rough, scratchy, but gentle all the same. “Feel better now?”

“Don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a week,” you said. You shifted slightly, looking between both Logan and Wade with a happy smile.

A low rumble filled the room and holy fuck, Logan was purring. A rough sound but soothing all the same. “Fuck, I love you both so much.” You leaned over to kiss Wade, then Logan, then leaned back against the pillows as your eyes closed. You and Wade spoke softly, Logan occasionally chipping in but happy to listen, his purr being all the input needed.

The universe sure had a weird way of working. The three of you having rough starts, losing those you loved, believing you were destined to spend the rest of your lives alone. Then Wade stumbled into your life, Logan begrudgingly joining him, and now… you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

-

taglist: @flower-majesty-anon @scarlettsoldier @asdorlia

[reidingandwriting]

Poolverine but they dress up as each other for Halloween. I'm not just talking about swapping costumes—they go all in. They get those facial prosthetics to get each other's skin textures right, Wade goes in with makeup for detailing, and Wade wears a bodysuit while Logan wears slight platform shoes and shapewear to roughly match their builds.

They put on each other's suits and make sure the proportions are as accurate as possible. Wade even goes as far as to call in a few favors to get voice-changing abilities.

Then, Halloween, they pretend to be each other. They try to match each other's personalities and mannerisms and see if anyone can notice.

At first, you'd think it'd be obvious that they switched. But here's the thing: they know each other. Wade knows how Logan moves and talks and acts and fights. Logan knows how to predict Wade's moods and reactions and decisions. They're incredibly self-aware and in sync.

They both show up to their friend's Halloween party dressed as each other. The crowd is incredibly large because everyone invited all the people that they know, which includes Vanessa's new friends and the majority of the X-mansion.

The only person who knew off the bat was Laura. There was no hiding it from her with her sense of smell, but they didn't intend to. She was in on the joke and came to watch the shitshow in action.

When asked about their costume, "Wade" says that Deadpool is what all the kids want to dress up as for Halloween, and he was just following the trend! Besides, no need to waste money buying a costume when he has the best one right in his closet. He's the scariest to be, obviously, because Deadpool is such a fearsome name.

Logan matches Wade's pitch immaculately, curling his voice into a whine before going back to talking cheerily as if nothing happened. Nobody bats an eye, classic Wade behavior.

Any slight imperfections are hidden by the flashing lights and relaxed atmosphere and large crowd. It's hard to pick out their friends in a crowd, let alone tell the differences between their carefully crafted copycat plans.

Laura gets closer to "Logan" and asks him how "Wade" has been lately, playing along. He responds with a grunt and an exasperated but fond summary of Wade's newest hyperfixation, acting as if he didn't know any of the terminology for it.

She has to hide a shit-eating grin when some of the people who knew Logan from the X-mansion came up to greet him and ask him how he's been. Plan successful.

"Logan" reaches out and pats a few heads, lingering just long enough to show he cares but pulling away soon enough to avoid deep intimacy. He answers questions with the same gruff tone as the actual Logan, giving just enough information to satisfy their questions.

Miraculously, the night continues and they haven't been caught. This is quite frankly hilarious because the two had done their rounds with each other's friends and acquaintances and apparently knew enough about each other to answer accurately. It's a pretty big feat, and even Laura has to reluctantly admit she's impressed by how well they know each other to pull this off.

The two draw together near the end, bickering as usual and using each other's tactics. Wade has to stifle a giggle at Logan imitating his out to not break character, and Logan has to hold himself back from burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

The real challenge is when Vanessa comes in to greet "Wade," with her new boyfriend in tow. Because Logan knows how Wade should act: vaguely uncomfortable and awkward, cagey toward the new guy, with an undertone of yearning and regret.

He knows this, but it stings. It hurts to know that while Wade and him are living together, a part of Wade will always belong to Vanessa. He knows it's irrational and that he's the main person in Wade's life, but the thought of them together makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

But he promised Wade he'd try to do this with him. They'd made bets and everything about who would find out and who wouldn't. He didn't want to ruin his fun.

So Logan grits his teeth and shifts into character, acting a little tense but also relieved to see her. Acting a bit more closed off and tense when the new guy introduces himself, and a little embarrassed to be seen with "Logan." Guilty, almost, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

But Vanessa's expression isn't remorseful or awkward. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms, and asks him what's wrong. Tells him that something's clearly bothering him and that he knows he can come to her for anything.

Logan becomes confused. What was he doing wrong? Was he not giving her the "puppy dog eyes" convincingly enough? Was he not portraying the bittersweet feeling of seeing "the one who got away" well?

But then she asks him if he and "Logan" were fighting. If something was going wrong in their relationship for him to act so cagey and upset.

...And Logan is baffled. What the hell does them fighting have to do with this?

Until she continues. She tells him that she knows how much "Logan" means to him and that she knows Logan feels the same (it's obvious just in the way he looks at Wade), so she's sure they'll figure it out soon.

She chuckles and shakes her head and says that it's endearing how Wade constantly talks about Logan as if he's the only topic in the world. That she's glad he's happy and that she remembered him asking to meet her boyfriend at some point so he could "rate her taste." She pats his shoulder, placatingly, and tells him that she's always there to talk if anything happens. Then she leaves.

And oh.

Logan thought he had Wade's personality down to a science, that he knew almost everything about him. His thoughts, his feelings, his relationships. ...But apparently, he was wrong for once.

Then he takes a second to stand there and analyze his interactions with Wade. And he realizes that she was right. That Wade glancing constantly back at him when Vanessa was there wasn't awkward pining for his ex, but just Wade wanting to look at Logan.

Now that he thinks about it, Wade doesn't just do that around Vanessa. He did it around almost everyone. He'd intermittently glance at Logan with what he assumed to be embarrassment over him, but now he realizes it was endearment. Awe. Bashfulness and slight pride over getting to introduce Logan to his friends instead of being ashamed of him.

And Logan realized that maybe he didn't know everything about Wade. That maybe, some of his assumptions were based more on his own experiences and past rather than the present. That he let his jealousy and insecurity and anxiety cloud his interpretation until it became foggy, creating the same rough shape but without the structure.

...And Logan smiles, under the mask. A warm, incredulous thing. That Wade spent most of his time with Vanessa talking about him. That it was so obvious Wade loved him that everyone commented on it. He'd never had someone be proud of belonging to him before, showing him off like he was something worth coveting. It felt nice.

Eventually, he rejoined "Logan's" side. He sidled up to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, throwing out a flirty comment and cuddling closer. "Logan" let him, letting his shoulder slump and wrapping an arm around him in return.

"Wade" stared at "Logan," watching his expressions shift and the curve of his lips as they moved. He let the adoration and wonder swell up in him, seeing how accurately Wade played the part.

It was obvious that he was staring, but nobody batted an eye. They all accepted it as normal, as if it was perfectly in character for Wade to stare at Logan with full focus even while people flitted and talked around them.

When Logan leaned in to kiss Wade's shoulder, nobody said anything.

(They manage to make it through the night without anyone calling them out on their impersonation. When they reveal it the next day, everyone is shocked. It was so realistic that they couldn't even tell.

Well, almost everyone is shocked. Laura rolls her eyes and Vanessa hides a knowing smile behind the rim of her coffee cup.)

[reidingandwriting]

Wade: Yuck, can you stop stinking up the house with your smoke?

Logan: *breathes out smoke from cigar* Will you stop hiding cocaine in our floorboards?

Wade: At least the cocaine gets me fucking high, cigars don't do shit.

Logan: What, you think your drug use is somehow superior to mine?

Wade: Yeah. I just finished off our stash but if you'd try it, I'd prove I was right.

Logan: Sure. *leans in and licks Wade's face to get the cocaine remnants*

Wade: What the fuck.

Logan: Fuck, you might be right. This shit is strong. But since I tried your drug, you should try mine. *kisses with the taste of whiskey and smoke in his mouth*

Wade: ...Shit. This is tough. I see the appeal now. Double check?

Logan: Make it triple.

Wade: Let's peer review this shit.

[reidingandwriting]

I keep thinking about the line "You're not welcome here, you're not welcome anywhere" because that means that Logan was driven away everywhere he went, that he was unwelcome at every turn. I just can't help but wonder what Logan was doing to care for himself for all those years after the incident. Like did he always have a place to sleep at night? Did he manage to get a meal in him every day or did he go days without eating? When he eventually did get kicked out of a bar after drinking himself to the point of blacking out, was it normal for him to just wake up in an alley or on a bench somewhere? Logan didn't even try to fight back with the bartender, did he ever just let people beat him up because it's what he thought he deserved? Did he ever get dumped on the edge of town somewhere after he got jumped by some anti-mutant assholes for daring to step into a motel to get a place to sleep?

Can you imagine what he felt when Wade asked him to stay with him at his apartment? Someone actually thinking about his needs, his wellbeing for once instead of turning him away? The feeling of being able to take a shower, to be able to get regular meals, to have a real bed to sleep in at night? Do you think Logan feels overwhelmed by Wade's kindness because he was just surviving for so long he forgot what it was like to have a home? For Wade it's so easy to provide for Logan, it's as natural as breathing. "Of course we can order takeout, what do you want to eat? You pick tonight, peanut, my treat." And then he's so shocked when Logan breaks down at such a simple thing but to Logan it's more kindness than anyone has ever shown him for decades? Do you think Al ever senses that Logan is not used to being taken care of, so she holds his hand and tells him that he's okay? That he's safe now, he doesn't have to worry about a thing, and she has to rub his back when he starts crying because he's not used to such kind words?

Can you imagine how Wade feels when he wakes up at night to find Logan crying while he's holding him so tightly, and he finds out it's not because he had a nightmare but because he finally feels loved and safe and taken care of? And how that fucks Wade up because *he* finally felt loved and accepted regardless of what he looked like or what he did with his life? And then they lay there crying into each other because they're both so grateful that they have each other?

[reidingandwriting]

1989 (Peter Parker’s Version)

Chapter One: Welcome To New York

[reidingandwriting]

1989 (Peter Parker’s Version

Chapter One: Welcome To New York

“Welcome to New York! It’s been waiting for you”

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings/Contains: Gender neutral reader (no pronouns, no use of y/n, no descriptors mentioned in this chapter), mild language, likely some OOC moments but whateverrrr

A/N: Going back to my roots and writing some Peter Parker content! I struggled for ages deciding if I wanted to write for Tom’s Peter or Andrew’s and this is based on Tom’s but trust, Andrew’s Peter Parker will get his time in the spotlight. Also for all my Deadpool & Wolverine people, I PROMISE that next installment will be out soon! I’m at 4k words and not even at the Good Part yet so I hope to have her up by the end of this week 🫶🏻

You were lost. So lost it would’ve been comical if it wasn’t your first day of class at Midtown. You clutched the schedule in your hands, looking at door numbers as you passed them. If 305 was right here, 303 across the hall, where in the hell was 304? You turned to look around the hallway, hoping to see someone who could help you and then you saw him.

Warm brown eyes met yours and you set your shoulders back before you walked over. He looked as anxious as you felt, but you hoped he would be able to help. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but I’m so insanely lost right now and you look really nice. Do you know where 304 is? I found 303 and 305 but I can’t find 304.”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, sorry. Can I see your schedule?” You handed your schedule over to his outstretched hand and tried not to flinch when your fingers brushed his. “We have the same schedule, so you can follow me around today.” A pause. “Only if you want to! But it may be helpful. Having someone you can stick with today.” You watched as his cheeks grew slightly more flushed. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, like he couldn’t help but fidget.

“That would be really nice.” You smiled, hoping you came across as grateful as you felt. He ducked his head but you caught the faintest glimpse of a smile before he looked back at you.

“So, 304 is all the way down the hall. I don’t know why they did that, but.” He shrugged and together, the two of you walked down the hall.

“Thank you,” you trailed off and he introduced himself. Peter Parker, he said. You told Peter your name, feeling yourself smile as he said your name. “I’m glad I found you, Peter.” Nothing else was said as you two walked into class and after a moment of hesitation, you took a seat beside him. A minute later, someone else took a seat on the other side of you. Peter introduced him as Ned, Ned introducing himself as Peter’s best friend, and the three of you made light conversation as you worked on a writing assignment.

“Where did you move from?” Ned asked and you hummed.

“Portland. My mom got a new job at the city hospital, and we moved in a few days ago. Thursday, I think? The days have all blurred together at this point.” You chuckled. Your apartment was a labyrinth of moving boxes, having barely unpacked anything over the weekend. You just barely had all of your school things unpacked before you left for school this morning. “I need to finish unpacking, do some actual exploring. I’ve never been to New York before and now I live here.”

“Trust. Stay with us, you’ll be like a native in no time,” Ned said and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Thanks.” You got through the rest of the day fairly well, even if you felt like a lost puppy trailing behind Peter. You felt lucky to have the same schedule as him, and Ned was pretty cool too. You also met a girl, MJ, who kind of intimidated you in the best way. At the end of the day, you parted ways from Peter and his friends, beginning your own walk home.

Hours later, you sat on your fire escape, sketchbook in your lap until a shadow swung past you. Was that…? There’s no way.

-

Peter didn’t mean to see you on his patrol. He had perched on a rooftop, watching over the people on the street below, and he felt a pair of eyes on him. Peter looked around as if his head was on a swivel, and then he saw you. You had a sketchbook in your lap, now dressed down in a simple t-shirt and black sweatpants, and you offered him a simple wave before you returned to your drawing. Peter found himself watching you for a few moments, watching your focus return to whatever you were drawing.

Come on, Peter, get a move on, Peter thought before he was off. He just missed you looking up, watching him with a curious gaze.

Every day for the next week, Peter saw you while on his patrol route. And every day he passed you, he couldn’t help but pause for a moment. He’d perch on the rooftop across from yours, taking a minute to just breathe and watch you. You spent a lot of time on the fire escape, he noticed. Some days drawing, some days reading. Always doing something. Today, he watched as you taped a piece of paper to your fire escape and he tilted his head. Your eyes met his (well, where his eyes are under the mask) and you tapped the paper and waved before climbing back through your window. A few moments passed before Peter moved and he swung over to your fire escape, landing quietly as he took the paper.

Peter smiled as he studied the drawing. You had drawn him as Spider-Man, perched on the rooftop he frequented. You colored the sky to resemble the setting sun, and the drawing looked as if it was glowing. Peter looked up into your window, frowning when he didn’t see you. With a soft sigh, Peter swung off to tuck the drawing into a safe place and continue his patrol route. Later that night, you noticed a sticky note stuck to your window that simply read ‘thank you’ with a drawing of Spider-Man’s mask on the bottom. The sticky note now lived on the side of your bookshelf, it being the first and last thing you saw every day.

-

You had been in the city just shy of a month before you properly met the web slinging hero. You were walking home from the library, and admittedly, you had gotten distracted and now you had no idea where you were. Everything looked somewhat familiar, but it all blended together into vaguely familiar blurs. You had no idea where you were at this point and you had started to panic when a familiar masked hero landed in front of you. You screamed, jumping back a few feet and Spider-Man frantically waved his hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me.” Spider-Man sounded as panicked as you felt and you held your hand to your chest as you willed your racing heart to settle down.

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man my ass, almost gave me a heart attack,” your sentence ended in a laugh as you composed yourself. “I drew you such a nice picture a few weeks ago and you repay me by scaring me.”

“In my defense, I kind of rely on my stealthiness. Can’t sneak up on bad guys if I’m noisy,” Spider-Man said and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

“What can I do for you, Spidey?” You shifted from one foot to the other, studying him. When he was swinging through the air, fighting off muggers or even worse bad guys that you had seen on YouTube, he held an air of confidence. He came up with quips just as fast as he shot webs, blocked hits, and threw punches of his own. Talking to you though? He seemed fidget-y. He rubbed at the back of his neck and rocked up on the balls of his feet before settling back down. And that voice. That voice was familiar.

“Just happened to be in the area, you looked a little lost. I’m near the end of my patrol route for the day, so I thought I’d see if you wanted an escort home.” You obviously couldn’t see his expression, but he sounded sincere- if not a little amused.

“That would be… really nice, actually. I usually know my way home better, but I went to a different library today and I thought I had only lost focus for a second, but.” You gestured around yourself. “No clue where the hell I am.”

“Welcome to New York,” Spider-Man said as he started to walk the opposite you were going. “Come on, you just missed it by a few blocks.” Together, the two of you walked back to your apartment, and you made conversation as you walked. You talked more than he did, understanding there was a lot he couldn’t share with you without risking his identity being revealed. You talked about your homework, a group project you had, and your mom’s hectic work schedule. Spider-Man spoke a little, talking about things he had seen on patrol today, and asking questions where appropriate as you talked. You thought it would feel awkward, talking to the superhero, but it didn’t feel like you were talking to a stranger. It felt as if you were talking to a friend.

Your apartment came into sight soon enough and you were relieved, but also disappointed. You had enjoyed talking to him and you were sad you had to go inside and do physics homework.

“Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure you have more important things to do, so I really appreciate it,” you said and Spider-Man shook his head.

“Like I said, I wrapped up my patrol a little early today. Got some superhero business to attend to.” He saluted and you couldn’t help but laugh. The eyes of his mask squinted and you tilted your head, surprised by how expressive his mask was. “Need a lift to your window?” Spider-Man made little hand motions, resembling how he shot his webs, and you shook your head.

“Maybe next time,” you said and he nodded. “If you’re ever around and have a minute. You know where my fire escape is. Just knock on the window if I’m not already out there. I’m home alone a lot,” you admitted. Your mom was home as often as she could, but as a doctor who worked in the emergency room, she worked odd hours. You were a pro at being alone at this point and you couldn’t fault her for it. Chasing her dream even after having you, it was commendable.

“I’ll be on the lookout for you.” Spider-Man’s head shifted slightly, looking up as if he heard something. “Duty calls. I’ll see you around.” He waved before he shot a web at a nearby building, then he was off. You couldn’t help but stare at where he stood not too long ago, thinking about the interaction you had, before you walked inside your apartment building. Odd.

-

Peter sat on your couch, working on homework when you scared the absolute shit out of him.

“Can we talk?” It only took three words for his heart to stop and he hoped he didn’t look even half as panicked as he felt.

“Yeah! Yeah. What’s up?” Peter struggled to meet your gaze and you ran your hand through your hair, a nervous habit.

“I’m gonna sound batshit crazy, but it’s been driving me crazy for a while now and I have to ask.” A deep breath. “Are you Spider-Man?”

Many emotions filled Peter at once and he picked panic as the primary emotion to feel. His hands shook and he felt frozen, yet the need to run at the same time. You already knew his secret, what was stopping him from jumping out the window and swinging away? He could probably convince May to let him stay home for a few days, avoid you a little. Instead, Peter let out a shaky breath.

“What- what makes you say that?”

“Your reaction for one. But I noticed some similarities, your behavior mostly and your voice. Come on, Peter, you’ve gotta look into a voice modifier. But what really sold me? Welcome to New York.” Peter thought back on how not even a few days ago, you were talking to him about the almost friendship you had developed with the spider hero.

“Is this normal for people here? Being friendly with superheroes?” Peter had snorted in response and said, “Welcome to New York.” You had paused for the briefest of moments, Peter almost missed it, before you laughed in agreement.

“I think that connected the dots for me,” you finished. “So… are you?”

Seconds, possibly minutes passed, before Peter spoke again. “You know you can’t tell anyone, okay?” You nodded quickly before sitting back into the couch, relaxing against the cushions.

“Thank you.” Peter tilted his head. “For trusting me. I promise, you never have to worry about me saying anything.” The two of you fell into a comfortable silence until you groaned dramatically. “Do you get number nine? Because I keep getting the wrong answer.”

“Come here, let me see.” Peter scooted closer to you and looked at your work. “Right there.” As Peter explained what you were missing, you were grateful nothing felt different between the two of you. As if the conversation never happened. You ordered pizza for dinner later than night before Peter had to go home, and you watched as he swung into the distance, waving him off. Friends with a super hero. Only in New York.

[reidingandwriting]

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE MASTERLIST

Posts are listed from newest to oldest.

Like A Prayer

There’s no better way to describe the fic than four times you were soft with Wade and Logan…. & one time yall fucked nasty

Dog Days Are Over

Logan, new to this... relationship? he's in right now, has a nightmare and almost does his biggest fear. He almost hurts someone.

Somebody's Watching Me

You can feel his eyes on you, predatory, as you hide in the convenience store. Frantically, you call Wade and Logan, hoping one of them can get to you before he does.

Nice To Meet Ya!

You didn't imagine you'd ever run into the merc with a mouth in your bar, let alone develop a friendship with him. Somehow this led to you meeting the Wolverine, and things... well, things just go from there, like they tend to do.

[reidingandwriting]

Dog Days Are Over > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Pairing: Wade Wilson (Deadpool) x Reader x Logan Howlett (Worst!Wolverine)

Warnings/Contains: Alcohol, average language usage for Deadpool universe, suggestive reference, some referenced violence, allusions to murder, references to Logan's background, Logan's a little emotionally constipated and doesn't cope Well, nightmare, hurt/comfort, a little angst, reader gets a little sad in this one, Logan also gets sad in this one, but happy ending!

A/N: I swear this ending feels so conclusive but I Promise there will be more coming soon for the boys. Working on a NSFW chapter and I am. So So Normal (lies) about these guys so I want it to be Perfect, but I should have it up SOON.

Previous chapter / Next chapter

You’re not sure when exactly the dynamic between you, Logan, and Wade shifted. It was subtle at first and suddenly you realized. You realized just how much time you spent with the two men. Realized that you all of your free time was spent with at least one of them, and the times you weren’t with them? You missed them like crazy. You yearned to be around them.

They had recently gone on some work trip, and you could barely stand being without them. You texted the both of them frequently, even with their minimal responses due to… whatever work they were doing. You were vaguely aware of all they did when they were gone, knowing who they were, but they tried to keep you separated from their less than legal occupation.

It had been about a week since you had seen them (six days, twenty hours, and approximately thirty six minutes) and you were convinced you were going to lose your mind. And then finally, god fucking finally, when you were laying on the couch, you heard the familiar knock on your front door. You jumped up, almost tripping over the coffee table in your haste to open the door. “Shit!” You groaned, rubbing your shin before opening the door. There stood Wade and you were on him before he could say a word.

Wade picked you up, supporting you by your thighs as he held you. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him. You started to tug his mask off, frowning when you saw him.

“Damn, did I get uglier out there?” Wade joked but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“You look upset.” You paused for a moment. “And you’re alone. Where’s Logan?” Wade tightened his grip on you before he sat down on your couch with a sigh.

“Drinking. It,” another sigh. “It was a hard week.” As Wade talked, he rubbed his hand up and down your back, a grounding method he often used. Needed to feel you, knew you were safe. If he was with you, he was safe. You were safe. “We almost had him. He was almost okay.” Wade dropped his head to your shoulder, and it was your turn to rub at his back, leaning your head against his. “Fuck knows I wanna be shitfaced right now, but you’ve domesticated me. Turned the stray into a pet. And no, readers, that is not foreshadowing any pet play from me in future smut. Not kink shaming, just kink asking why.”

“You sure you’re not drunk right now?” You asked and Wade pouted up at you. You brought your hand to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his lips. Wade pressed a gentle kiss to your finger and you smiled, heat blossoming across your cheeks. “We should probably go get him, shouldn’t we?” You asked and Wade gave you an apologetic look. “Let’s give him a little longer before we start the wolf hunt.”

“While we wait, I demand spooning. Having depravations, actually. I think I could die.” With a soft laugh, you fell back against the couch with Wade, welcoming the way he immediately buried his face in your hair. One of your boys was home. Time to get the other one where he belonged.

-

You were grateful Logan was a creature of habit, when you found him quickly after walking into the bar you worked at. You walked towards the table he sat at, his back to the wall in a quiet corner and you scuffed your foot against the ground when you got close. You knew he didn’t need the warning, knowing he likely heard you and Wade speaking the second you walked in. But he looked so out of it, you were worried. You took a seat across from him, observing him.

You wanted to talk to him solo first. Hoping seeing you would be enough to get him home, at least. You could smell the whiskey in the air around him, noticed the way his shoulders were hunched. He looked like the version of himself that walked into the bar a couple months ago. Your heart clenched in your chest when he finally looked up, there being a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. He looked… distant. Detached from himself and everything around him.

“Yes?” You flinched at the tone of his voice, the roughness of it.

“Just wanted to come check on you. Wade made it home and you weren’t there. I’ve missed you.” You kept your voice soft and Logan sighed.

“‘m fine, bub. Just needed a moment alone.” Logan set his glass down, gaze shifting towards the table. “Just a minute.”

“You ready to come home? Or do you need a little longer?” You wished you knew what was going on in his head. You could see the gears turning, knew he still wasn’t quite there with you. Physically, sure, but mentally? He was gone, and you were unsure if he was trapped from a week ago or back even further. You hadn’t seen him this stuck before and you didn’t know how to proceed. You should’ve brought Wade over. As different as the two were, they understood each other. He’d know what to do.

“Yeah.” Logan exhaled as he stood up, startling you. “Let’s go home. ‘m pretty tired. Know Wade’s gotta be, too.” And that was that. Logan held his arm out, an invitation, and you tucked yourself into his side. Together, you walked to where Wade was watching, and you shot him a worried look. Wade nodded, a barely perceived motion. He fell into sync with the two of you, and all three of you headed home.

-

You woke up to mumbling. You continued to lay there, eyes closed, thinking it was Wade sleep talking again. Then you heard the rustling of the covers, felt the thrashing. You opened your eyes, blinking as you adjusted to the darkness- only a faint glow from the hallway nightlight (after a few too many late night face plants after tripping on something in the hallway)- lighting up the room. The mumbling grew louder and you looked over at Logan. His brows furrowed, his chest quickly rising and falling as his sleep talking became more urgent. Panicked.

“Logan?” You whispered. You glanced over to where Wade was out cold; wanting to wake him, but hesitating. “Logan.” You reached out. Your hand barely touched his arm before he woke up, grabbing your arm. “Lo-“ You were cut off by a gasp as he flipped you over, straddling you. The sound of his claws unsheathing as his fist landed just a couple of inches from you.

A few seconds later, you watched as recognition hit Logan, awareness taking over his hazel eyes. He looked less frantic, less like a cornered feral animal. The calm lasted all of three seconds until his gaze traveled to where his fist laid- claws buried in your pillow.

“Logan,” you whispered when you finally found your voice again, but it was too late. Logan was up and out of your room before you could even sit up, and you took a few deep breaths to settle yourself. It was a nightmare. He’d never, ever hurt you. You knew him, trusted him. This thought would’ve been reassuring, until you realized. While you knew him, knew he wasn’t a threat. You also knew him. You knew how he viewed himself. Knew that he’d blame himself.

“Ev’rythin’ okay?” Wade mumbled, the commotion starting to wake him. You leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Be right back. Nightmare.” Wade seemed to wake more at that and you gave him a sad smile. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, come on out. I need, need to talk to him for a minute.” Wade nodded and squeezed your hand once before you got up. You walked to the living room and frowned at the sight in front of you. Logan sat on the couch, leather jacket on and struggling to tie his boots on. His hands trembled as he cursed under his breath, muttering something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Lo.. where are you going?”

“Not sure. I need- need to get out of here. This was a mistake, all of it.” Logan’s words were jumbled, his breathing erratic. “I’ll have Wade get all my things.”

“Get your things? Why do you-“ Realization hit you like a bucket of ice water and your mind was screaming with panic, desperation, but most of all, hurt. “You’re leaving.”

“I am.” Logan’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours as he stood. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You, you can’t just leave. Talk to me, Logan. I can help-“

“No, you can’t! You don’t understand anything, and you never will.” Logan had never raised his voice at you, and you felt frozen in place. The room felt so much bigger, colder, and you felt small under his gaze. “How could you? How could I ever think this would be worth anything?”

“You don’t mean that. I, I know I don’t get it. I’ll never completely understand how your brain works, how Wade’s works. I’ll never understand everything you’ve been through and everything you still deal with every day. But I want to try. You’re worth it to try.”

“I can’t. I can’t do it, bub. It’s not worth it. This,” he gestured between the both of you, “isn’t worth it. I was deluded to think it was.” You couldn’t do anything but watch as he walked towards the door, opened it, and closed it with a quiet click without looking back.

“Sweetheart? I heard the door, is everything- hey, what happened?” You turned to Wade, cheeks wet with tears, and you slowly sat on the couch. “Where did Logan go?”

You didn’t respond; you couldn’t. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. A choked sob left you and you buried your head in your hands as sobs racked your body.

“Come ‘ere,” Wade said as he sat beside you, pulling you into his lap. “I gotcha, princess. I got you.”

-

Wade felt helpless and he fucking hated feeling helpless. You were miserable. You flipped between borderline manic- keeping yourself busy with work, picking up extra shifts, going on runs, baking like crazy- and catatonic. Wade would order in dinner, try to coax you into eating, and basically acted as your literal support system. Helping you shower, practically attached to your side as you walked.

It had been almost two weeks since Logan disappeared, the only communication he’d had with either you or Wade being a text to Wade with an address for him to drop his things off. And Wade waited. And waited. And waited for Logan to show up, katana in hand. Ready to turn the bitch into a kebab and drag him home, kicking and screaming all the way. He wanted an explanation, if nothing else.

But Logan didn’t show that night. Wade had waited hours, had almost fallen asleep waiting for the brunette to show up. Wade eventually went home and dropped by the next morning- all of Logan’s things gone. Al hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t been at your bar. The Wolverine had disappeared just as quickly as he had reappeared in this timeline, the only physical traces of him being the bottles of whiskey in your fridge and the now discarded (after Wade managed to pry it from you) pillow he had punctured. The mattress would have to be replaced later, Wade didn’t think you could handle parting with it yet.

It was the middle of the night, sometime in his third week of going MIA, when Wade caught a glimpse of him again. Logan lingered in a dark alley, ever the fucking lurker, and Wade stalked over to him.

“Hey, furry!” Wade called out. Logan barely had time to react, eyes flashing briefly with recognition before Wade’s fist collided with Logan’s nose, the crunch echoing.

“Fuck!” Logan cursed and Wade shoved him against the alley wall.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t cut your fucking head off and splatter your pretty little blood all over this wall,” Wade’s voice went rough, threatening. Wade’s mask was off in the safety of the alley, and Logan stood still as the blade of his katana pressed against his throat. His eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles under his eyes reappearing. He looked rough, and not in the hot and rugged way.

“How is she?” Logan rasped and Wade pressed the blade down further, a sliver of satisfaction hitting him when he saw the slight cut on Logan’s neck.

“How do you fucking think, dipshit? Miserable. Have to carry her to bed every night because she sits there. Staring at the front door, waiting for you to walk in the front door.” Wade dropped his weapon, kicking his boot against the wall as he tucked the katana back in its sheath. “She misses you. We miss you, peanut. Fucking furious with you. Worried about you, too. Mostly just want you home where you belong. Even if you’re in trouble with the missus.” Wade walked over and leaned back against the wall and let his head fall against Logan’s shoulder. Logan wrapped an arm around Wade’s shoulders and both men exhaled, a little shaky.

“Missed you, bub. Missed the both of you. Was at the house earlier,” Logan admitted. Wade, for once, stayed silent and let him talk. “I was just about to knock on the door, and I couldn’t. Not after how I left.”

“She may bitch slap you when you come in. Rightfully so.” Wade nudged his head against Logan’s shoulder. “But it’s not home without you. We’ve missed you so much.”

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be back.” Logan tilted his head to look at Wade. Wade’s gaze turned soft and he leaned up, slowly, giving time for Logan to shove him off. He didn’t press his luck, kissing the corner of Logan’s lips, letting his own lips linger.

“Come on,” Wade whispered against his cheek, and Logan shivered. “Let’s go home.”

-

Well, that wasn’t the welcome Wade expected. He had walked inside first, leaving Logan outside as he greeted you with a quick kiss. He told you someone was waiting to see you outside, and you felt your stomach begin to twist. It couldn’t be…

But it was. Your mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, as you stared at the man you loved. The man who broke your heart. The man you wanted to slap the absolute shit of, but also the man you couldn’t wait to hold again and kiss the breath out of. After.

Your hand moved through the air faster than he could react, the contact echoing throughout the room. Your hand stung and you could see the red glow blossoming on his cheek. You looked between Wade and Logan once, twice, three times before you ran down the hallway and locked yourself in the bathroom. Was it a foolproof method to keep them out? In theory, no. Either one of them could bust the door down like it was nothing. In practice, however, you were a fucking genius. You sat with your back to the door, knowing they wouldn’t risk hurting you.

You had been in the bathroom for a while, your joints aching slightly at how long you’d been on the cold tile floor. You were growing tired and you wanted to lay in your bed, but doing that meant facing Wade and Logan. Fucking Logan, you thought and your head thudded back against the door. Moments later, you heard the sound of someone on the other side slide down the door.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but I hope you’ll listen,” Logan said. “I’m not the good guy who gets to have a happy ending. And god, I feel so close to having one. With you and Wade. God, that felt weird to even think about.” Logan chuckled. “So I did what I did best and I ran. Like the dangerous guy I am.” You sat in silence, listening as he spoke. “You mean… so much to me, and that terrifies me. I would do anything for you, no matter what it cost me. And then I almost killed you that night.”

“I try so hard to keep you away from that part of me. I’ve always been a weapon, it’s what I know. It’s all I knew. They saw the animal I am, and they used me. I did horrible things, unredeemable things, and then suddenly I meet you. Someone who tries to help me see that maybe, just maybe, I’m more than the violent dog I was born to be. You’re showing me a new chapter of my life that I was too afraid to want. And in my attempts to avoid fucking it up, I hurt you. I fucked up.” Logan’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me. Not asking to be welcomed back, or to get another chance. Just needed you to know it wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you the way I did. I’m sorry.”

A long stretch of silence passed. Logan wasn’t sure if you heard him, if you had listened. The door opened, Logan bracing himself as he started to fall back, the door having supported most of his weight. A shuffling sound followed and suddenly, you were in his lap. You wrapped your arms around him, your grip on him tight as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“You ever do that again, I’ll find a way to castrate you.” A huff of laughter left Logan and he hugged you close.

“I’d deserve it.”

“You would.” You looked up at him, hazel eyes finally meeting yours again. “Think I need one last thing before I can forgive you.” You looked down at his lips then back up at him. A silent question.

“Fuck, yes,” Logan whispered as he leaned down, lips brushing against yours. A content sigh left you the moment your lips touched and you ran your hands up to his hair, gripping slightly. Logan groaned, a low noise, as your lips moved in tandem. He deepened the kiss, relishing in the whine you made as he explored your mouth, a needy little noise.

“If you two are fucking, I think I deserve to be a participant!” Wade called from the living room and you pulled apart, giggling as you looked up at Logan.

“Missed you,” you said after a minute. Logan tightened his grip on you before he stood, carrying you back to the living room.

“I missed you, too.” Logan took a seat beside Wade, you positioning yourself so you could sit with both of them. You stayed in Logan’s lap but stretched your legs out onto Wade’s. The three of you talked for what felt like hours, eventually moving to bed.

You weren’t sure when exactly the dynamic shifted. When you, Logan, and Wade became You, Logan, and Wade. When the casual flirting became more. When the not so secret longing turned to lingering touches, kisses and breathy laughter, and officially moving in. God, you’d always remember the look on Logan’s face when you gave him a house key the next morning.

Logan stared at the key, a million different emotions hitting him at once. He could feel yours and Wade’s watchful eyes on him, until he finally look up. His eyes stung with tears that threatened to spill as he choked out a ‘Thank you’ that had your eyes watering as well. He had a home. He belonged somewhere. Belonged to two people he’d destroy the world for, one of them being an obnoxious merc who would burn the world down for fun, and the other being a human who was just as stubborn as him, determined to make him see that maybe. Just maybe. He deserved the home he was given. He deserved the love he was getting.

And for once. Maybe he started to believe it.

-

Taglist: @flower-majesty-anon @scarlettsoldier @asdorlia

[reidingandwriting]

Somebody’s Watching Me > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairings: Logan Howlett (Worst!Wolverine) x Reader x Wade Wilson (the boys are getting closer!)

Warnings: Fem!reader (minimal use of pronouns, no descriptors), being followed, mild injury, typical use of language for Deadpool universe, likely a little OOC characters but that’s fanfic for ya babes!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I can walk home myself, Wade. I promise I’ll be fine, you thought bitterly as you ducked into a convenience store. You once again called Wade as you busied yourself looking at the boxes of cereal, grateful for the few others in the aisle to be a buffer from the man who had been following you since you were at work.

“Call me whenever, cupcake,” you mimicked the merc. You sent him a few more texts, following the couple in the store to the next aisle. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, the predatory gaze of the man sending chills down your spine. You searched the store, grateful when you saw a bathroom to hide in, and you rushed in. You locked the stall, dialing Wade’s number one more time. You cursed when you got his voicemail again, hands shaking as you left another voicemail.

“I may strangle you when you finally show up, but I really need your help, Wade. I’m at the convenience store on Fifth, would be great if you could come by. I’m sorry for not letting you walk me home, but I’d like to redeem that offer please.” Your voice shook and you felt your eyes begin to water. “I’m being followed, and I’m scared.” The voicemail beeped as it ended, and you leaned against the wall.

You looked at your phone. You had a little bit of charge left and you dialed a number with shaky hands. The first ring passed, then the second. You let out a sob of relief when you heard the gruff voice of Logan answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Logan! Oh thank fuck.” A choked sob left your lips and you heard rustling from the other side of the phone.

“Bub, what’s happening? Where are you?” You could hear the concern in his voice, and you heard the familiar sound of his door opening and closing.

“At the convenience store on Fifth by the diner. In the bathroom. I, I tried calling Wade, he’s not answering.” You let out a shaky breath. “‘m so glad you answered.”

“Always,” Logan’s voice turned soft before he cleared his throat. “I’m five minutes out. Stay where-“

“Logan?” You pulled your phone from your ear, being greeted by a black screen. Shit! You froze when you heard heavy footsteps. The steps stopped outside your door and you saw the muddy brown boots from the guy following you.

“Come on and open the door, sweetheart. Been wanting to talk to you all night. Was awful rude, ignoring me at work today when I was trying to just be nice and talk.” His words slurred as his fist pounded on the door. You didn’t say anything, flinching back when the door rattled as he tried to open it. “I know you’re in there, you stupid bitch. So do me a favor, and go on and open the door.” The door continued to rattle and you looked around. You could climb your way out and hopefully jump down and run out before he grabbed you, if he was drunk enough.

The bolts on the door creaked and you scrambled on top of the toilet seat; well, at least you didn’t really like these shoes anyways. You jumped and grabbed the top of the next stall door right as the door was ripped open and you heaved yourself up, narrowly avoiding the hand that reached for your ankle. You jumped down, wincing at the pain in your ankle but ignored it, rushing for the door. A hand clamped down on your arm and you screamed, swinging and your fist collided with his nose.

“Fuck! Oh, you’re dead, you fucking bitch.” You shifted your weight, preparing to kick the shit out of the fucker when the door swung open. Logan stood in the doorway, and you almost fell to the floor in relief when you saw him. He was menacing as he stalked forward, arm outstretched and his claws extended, stopping millimeters from the man’s jugular. “Holy fucking shit! I-I didn’t know she was with you, I’ll, I’ll back off.”

Logan merely glared in response, maintaining eye contact as he spoke to you. “Are you hurt?” Logan stood between the two of you, a hand hovering over your hip and the other threatening the now shaking man in front of you.

“He grabbed me, but he didn’t hurt me. Hurt my ankle and my hand fighting back, but I’m okay.” You’re here now, you almost said, but you couldn’t get the words out. “I just wanna go home,” you whispered, almost pleading. Logan’s hand shifted down a bit and he moved closer, his voice low as he growled.

“Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind on killing you.” Logan waited until he was gone before he tucked his claws away and turned to look at you. “Bub..”

You threw yourself at Logan, wrapping your arms around him. Clinging to him, as if he was the only thing keeping you up. Granted, he kind of was with how your ankle throbbed, but that was irrelevant. The familiar woodsy smell of Logan soothed you and you felt your eyes begin to water as the adrenaline wore off.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you home. Let me know if I hurt you,” Logan said and you tilted your head.

“Hurt me? What are you- Logan?!” Logan had scooped you up, and positioned you to a piggy back position. “I can walk!”

“Humor me.” Logan huffed as he carried you out of the bathroom. “Scared the absolute shit out of me.” When your call dropped, Logan’s hurried walk turned into a downright sprint. He was worried for you, terrified he’d be too late. That you’d get hurt, that’d it would be his fault. He wanted to protect you, he yearned to be a sense of safety for you. You had called him. You trusted him, and he wanted to be worthy of that trust.

And as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, he finally felt himself begin to relax, knowing he had you. Your head rested on his shoulder, your breath fanning against his neck. “I’ll take care of your injuries when we get home,” Logan spoke again after a minute and you nodded, letting your eyes close.

“Thank you. For saving me.” You hesitated before pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“Always will.” Not much later, you were in bed. Your ankle wrapped and elevated, a bag of ice settled on top, and Logan sat beside you. After some coaxing, he seemed to relax and he laid propped against your headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. You were close to him, legs brushing each other and you mirrored his position. Your head rested against his arm, your hand resting on top of his.

The gesture had Logan tense at first. His hands were a sensitive topic for him, with them only being used as weapons for the majority of his life. They weren’t gentle, quite the opposite really, roughed up with callouses, but it was like you were blind to it. Blind to what he’d done with his hands, blind to what he could do, as you traced circles on the skin, holding his hand so gently. Like he was delicate and not a killing machine.

“Will you stay tonight?” Your question startled him and he turned to look at you. “You don’t have to, but I. I’d like it if you did. You could stay on the couch if you prefer, or the spare room, or um, in here. With me. After how many times Wade has spent the night, I should have some pajamas or something for you. I think at least one pair of sweatpants are yours anyways, you know Wade.” You rambled when you got nervous, he noticed, and it was… oddly cute.

You mistook his silence as a rejection and you started to backtrack. “Don’t worry about it. You can head home, Lo, it’s-“

“I want to stay.” Logan cut you off and you ducked your head. Logan could hear the way your heart rate sped up and the slow breath you took to calm it down. “Wherever you’re comfortable with me.”

“You piggybacked me to my house, Wolvie. I don’t think you have to worry about how comfortable I am with you anymore,” your voice held a teasing lilt to it, but it was still soft. Gentle. Something Logan wasn’t used to. “Pajamas are in the spare room, right across the hall. In the first dresser drawer on the left, I believe.”

Logan nodded and excused himself before going across the hall. His hands trembled slightly as he changed and he willed his own racing heart to calm down. It was you. He liked you, he felt… as close to comfortable as he could be around you. As long as he ignored the weird feeling he got in his stomach whenever you smiled at him, or spoke softly to him, or- holy fuck, he had a crush on you. He was no better than a god damned schoolgirl. Logan exhaled, slowly and deeply. What the fuck.

He rejoined you a minute later and you were under the covers at this point, eyes lidded as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Get the light, please?” Logan turned your overhead light off, the room now being cast in a soft glow from the television. You held the blankets up, an invitation, and Logan got into bed with you. “Damn, you’re like a furnace.” You scooted closer to him, pausing as you looked up at him. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” Logan’s voice shook and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” You tucked yourself into Logan’s side and your eyes fluttered shut. “Comfortable, bub?”

“Mhm. Good pillow.” Logan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting on your side. His fingers splayed out across your hip and you let out a noise that sounded similar to a purr. “Thanks for staying with me. ‘ppreciate it.” Logan wanted to respond but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of yours, hoping you understood him. Based on the responding smile and way your head moved to rest on his chest, you heard him.

-

Sun had just barely started to shine through your curtains the next morning when you woke up to incessant pounding at your door. Logan cursed as he pulled you closer, you grumbling under your breath as the knocking grew louder.

“Motherfucker!” You started to sit up but the grip on your waist tightened and you were gently pushed back to a laying position.

“I got it.” Logan huffed as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Are you expecting anyone?” You gave him an unimpressed look and he laughed before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You felt your cheeks warm as you hid your face behind the blankets, a wide smile on your face.

Logan walked to the front door, ready to tear into whoever was knocking at this downright ungodly hour, and he paused when he heard muffled yelling.

“Come on, I need you to open the door. I know you hear me! Your neighbors are already complaining so I know you can hear me, dude.” Fucking Wade. Logan ripped the door open, claws protruding slightly as he glared at the merc in front of him. He was dressed casually, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie on, and Logan groaned as Wade’s eyes widened.

“Put the claws away, it’s just me. What are you doing here, peanut?”

“Was trying to sleep until someone started trying to tear the door down at ass o’clock.” Logan opened his mouth to say more, until he heard you start to walk down the hallway.

“Is that Wade?” You asked and Logan’s heart swelled in his chest when you appeared. Hair mussed with sleep, voice raspy from just being woken up, shirt hanging off one shoulder. Even though you’d just woken up, you were beautiful.

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” Wade frowned when he saw your wrapped ankle, and you subconsciously shifted behind Logan. Wade called your name, a question, before he looked at Logan.

“Was followed last night,” he said after a minute. “Got hurt trying to escape. Packed a mean punch, his nose looked fucked.” A surge of pride hit Logan and you tucked your head in between his shoulders.

“Hurt like shit,” you mumbled, but Logan felt your smile grow. “Called you a few times but you didn’t answer.”

Wade’s face fell as he took a seat on the couch. “Shit. I’m so fucking sorry. I, I had left my phone at the bar last night and I didn’t realize it. I got it back a few hours ago and charged it up, that’s when I got all your messages.” Wade’s gaze shifted to Logan. “Bet you’re glad I got you that phone now, huh?” His words may have been playful, but his voice was anything but. The gratitude was clear in his body language and Logan watched as you walked over to him.

You took a seat beside Wade and gently lifted his chin. He didn’t want to meet your eyes and you frowned. “Wade.” You softened your voice, your other hand resting on his knee. Eventually he did look at you and only then did you continue speaking. “It’s not your fault. Neither of yours.” You held eye contact, needing the words to sink in. “I’ve been trying to get him banned from the bar for weeks, but he’s never done anything like this before. There’s no way we could’ve known.” Wade opened his mouth to respond and you made an incorrect buzzer sound. “No way.”

Wade’s head dropped to rest on your shoulder, the tension melting out of him when you wrapped your arms around him. “I need to get you your own baby knife. And get myself one of those phone clips for my belt. Like a middle aged salesman.”

“Well,” you drawled and Wade made an offended noise.

“You’re lucky you have a boo boo, or I would’ve pushed you off the couch for that one.” Wade grumbled and you held him tighter. Forgiveness.

Logan watched the silent conversation you two had, hesitantly moving to sit beside you. You adjusted your position, leaving Wade on your right and Logan on your left.

“God I’m fucking tired. Ought to stab you with your own baby knife for waking me up this early.” Wade laughed and shrugged.

“Let’s fix it then. Uppies time.” You looked confused for a moment when Wade stood until he scooped you up bridal style. “Joining us, honey badger?” Wade didn’t wait for an answer before he started to walk to your bedroom.

“Fuck it,” Logan said, standing and following the two of you. Minutes later, the three of you somehow managed to fit in your bed. You obviously in the middle with one of them on either side of you. It was a little awkward, your positioning odd so you could cuddle with both men, but you were out like a light. Your first like a vice around Logan’s shirt and your legs entangled with Wade’s.

“What a life we have, huh?” Wade asked and Logan couldn’t help but agree. Minutes had passed, Wade almost asleep and Logan spoke up again, voice thick with sleep.

“Too bad it means I’m stuck with you for a while now.” Wade’s head snapped up, glaring at the brunette who let out a quiet laugh. The last thing Wade remembered before falling asleep, was the gentle nudge of Logan’s hand against his own and Wade fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Taglist: @flower-majesty-anon @scarlettsoldier @asdorlia

[reidingandwriting]

Nice To Meet Ya! > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~1,900

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, it’s (the beginning of) a throuple over here

Warnings: Fem!reader (she pronouns used like. twice in the very end), to be expected amounts of cursing and vulgarity from Wade, lots of cursing in general tbh, maybe a little OOC Logan, still getting to learn how to write his character well (Deadpool and Wolverine gave me brain worms so I had to write this immediately after watching)

A/N: This may become a little bit of a series! I’m having so much fun writing them since I Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine so there will be a lot of solo & duo content with these two. This part is a little Wade focused but the next part is more Logan focused 🫶🏻

Next Chapter

You never in a million years imagined this would be your life. You were raised by busy parents, and you quickly became self sufficient. Independent. When you hit your teenage years, your parents… god knows where they went, to be honest. All you knew is you had a house to yourself, you didn’t have friends anymore, and as lonely as it was, you found a bit of comfort in the solitude. You worked as a bartender at this bar not too far from your house, and you were a crowd favorite. You always brought in the biggest tips and many of the patrons were protective over you.

Your longest regular was the merc with a mouth- Deadpool. Wade, as he introduced himself once, a faint whisper. The fabric of his mask rubbing against your cheek as he whispered the name in your ear. Wade Wilson.

He was... Loud, to say the least. You didn’t think he had an off switch. He insisted he did- but you’d have to go under his suit to find it, he teased you. He never stopped talking and there was no such thing as small talk with him; if you were talking to him, he was downright vulgar, and the quite frankly gross sense of humor was entertaining. He also flirted like it was his job. Much like the rest of his vocabulary, his flirting was pure filth that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. And god forbid any creep start talking to you.

“Hey, princess, sorry I’m late. Too busy blowing my load to the thought of you, then remembered, wait! I can come see your fine ass in person whenever I want. Wanna finish me off?” You could practically feel the smirk Wade was sending you. You gestured for him to lean in, waiting until he was leaned against the bar, chest hovering above the countertop as you leaned in.

“In your dreams, dick for brains.” Your lips brushed against where his were covered by his mask, and you smirked when you heard the sharp intake of breath. The gasp almost impossible to hear, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

“You, sweet thang? Always. Holy fucking shit, that was so hot.” You and Wade had quickly become friends, his personality meshing well with yours. After ‘baby knife’ had somehow found itself in the hand of some perv that had been borderline stalking you at work for weeks, you found a new part of his personality. His protectiveness. He was as chipper as ever, but with the manic energy of someone who could, and would, kill someone who mildly inconvenienced someone he cared for. Unhinged, barely holding onto his minimal self restraint to splatter the guy’s blood all over the wall. Wouldn’t want you to have a mess to clean up, he admitted once it was just the two of you.

He offered to walk you home once after he’d known you for a few weeks, and now it was habit. You loved the times you had with just him. He was the same old Wade, but more open about himself. More vulnerable. These walks were where you got to know Wade, and he got to know you. You had let him crash one night, not that long ago, when it was storming hard. He had already insisted on walking you home, storm be damned, and you repaid him with a home cooked meal, some trashy movie, and a night of conversation on your couch until you dozed off, your head lolling to the side and landing on his shoulder.

Hours later, you had woken up, now lying down and the comfortable weight of Wade’s hand in your hair from where your head rested on his thighs. By the time the sun rose, you were alone in your living room, the only trace Wade had been there being a sloppy drawing of the Deadpool mask and a heart he scribbled on the whiteboard of your fridge. You smiled at the doodle and left it up, it still being up there today.

You stood at your spot behind the bar a few weeks later when someone new walked into the building, and you tilted your head. Newcomers weren’t entirely unheard of, but they were pretty rare, especially on a weekday. You took in the man as he stood near the doorway; brown hair, and oh fuck, good beard. The leather jacket he wore did little to hide how muscular he was and you watched as he scanned the room. Body tense, as if looking for potential threats. Potential ways out if danger occurred. Not like anyone would mess with him, aura alone enough to scare off anyone within a ten foot radius, let alone the hard look in his eyes.

Still, he walked over to the bar and took a seat. You offered a gentle smile, watching for another second before speaking. “You seem like a whiskey fan.”

His hazel gaze shifted up to meet your eyes, and you felt as if he was staring right into your god damned soul. It was intimidating, it was hot, and you couldn’t decide whether you should look away or lean in and-

“Yeah. Whiskey’s nice.” He nodded his head towards a bottle behind you. You nodded and went to pour a glass as he spoke again. “You always try to guess orders?”

“Only the interesting ones. Or the pretty ones.” You winked before turning, smiling when you heard the slightest huff of amusement. “Haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You turned back around, setting the glass in front of him, propping up on your elbows as he drank. “Thanks.” He looked familiar but god, you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You made light conversation, most of the talking done by you, but you found that you didn’t mind. He listened, intently. Everything he did seemed to be intense, like it was his default. You were grateful for the slow night, getting to see a glimpse of the man behind the bulletproof walls he had clearly built around himself.

“You thirsty slut! Of course I’d find you here.” You heard Wade’s voice before you saw him, and an annoyed scowl took over the unknown man’s face.

“Thirsty slut? Thought that was your autobiography title,” you said and Wade gasped in mock offense.

“You know I don’t read! Mocking the illiterate, how dare you?” Wade hopped onto the counter, hip almost knocking the glass of whiskey over.

“I don’t get how you’re late to a place you wanted to go to.” The brunette man said, voice low and rough, and Wade waved a hand dismissively.

“So uptight, can you believe it? Need to pull the stick out of your ass, maybe put it in-“

“La la la la la, not listening,” you sang, covering your ears, and Wade turned to you.

“You traitor! I leave you alone for five minutes and Wolvie has his claws in you.” Wolvie… Holy fuck, you were trying to flirt with the Wolverine. “And, Peanut, you know I’d never be late on purpose. Except I really needed to piss, then I got distracted by this really cute dog outside and I ended up totally abandoning my favorite dog.” Wade reached out to pat him, and you watched as a sliver of claws extended from his hands. A warning that didn’t seem to deter Wade much, but he did put his hand down. “Well, might as well introduce you.” Wade told you his name was Logan, and Wade told Logan your name in return.

You and Wade continued to talk, Logan yet again preferring to listen rather than join the conversation. Wade told the story of how he met Logan, how together the two of them essentially saved the world, and how the two of them were now roommates. Begrudgingly, according to Logan, but Wade seemed thrilled about his ‘roomie’.

It was hours later when the three of you left the bar. Wade insisted on walking you home, taking your hand in his and skipping down the street with you. Logan was a few paces behind you, his presence a comforting sense behind you. Where Wade was loud, in your face, Logan seemed to be the quiet lurker type. He’d hide in the shadows, making himself known when he felt threatened. You walked up to your front door, unlocking the door and Wade helped himself inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to Logan, who lingered on your doorstep.

“If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome. At least one of you has manners,” you called towards where Wade stood in your kitchen and cackled. Logan nodded, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as he walked inside, his shoulder brushing against yours gently. You shut the door behind you and Wade opened your fridge.

“Aww, pookie, you kept my drawing!” There was a hint of an unfamiliar emotion in his voice… something, something new. You couldn’t place it, yet you smiled anyways.

“Of course I did, Wade.” Now that you were in the safety of your house, Wade’s mask had been discarded on your kitchen counter and you could see the smile on his face. “Get out of my fridge, you leech.“

“I’m starving,” Wade whined and you turned to look at Logan. He stood a little awkwardly, and you gestured to the couch, taking a seat and smiling when he followed suit. He sat on the cushion furthest from you, but you didn’t question it.

Logan couldn’t help but study you. There was an obvious familiarity between you and Wade, you matching his wit and comebacks, but you were different when you spoke to him. You were quieter, more reigned in. Strangely not out of fear, but as if you were trying to make him comfortable. You switched between Wade and Logan like it was second nature, and the more he talked to you and the more he watched you and Wade, he felt himself begin to relax just a little.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Wade, ever the charmer, let out a dramatic yawn, throwing his hands up in the air as he stretched. “Well, cupcake. I think it’s about time we head home. Old man is already up way past his bedtime.” Wade yelped as he jumped back, barely missing the claws that protruded from Logan’s hand, and he stuck his tongue out at him. “Grumpy grandpa.”

You stood and Logan followed suit. Wade kissed your cheek before saying goodbye and stepping outside, leaving you and Logan alone.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Logan.” Your voice was gentle, your smile even more so, and Logan nodded.

“I’ll be around. Don’t think I have much of a choice with that one.” There was a sliver of fondness mixed with the exasperation in his voice, and Logan started to walk outside. “Goodnight, bub.” Logan closed the door behind him, lingering until he heard your locks click shut. He caught up with Wade a moment later and Wade gave him the biggest shit eating grin ever.

“Is someone melting the big bad wolf’s heart?” The metallic clang followed by Wade’s pained grunt made Logan laugh, and Wade shoved his shoulder.

“Wait until she sees what an asshole you are. Then she’ll realize I’m the better half of this friendship.” The two men continued to bicker the entire way home, both of them thinking about when they’d get to see you next.

[reidingandwriting]

ANDREW GARFIELD

attends the "WE LIVE IN TIME" photocall during the 72nd San Sebastian International Film Festival.

[reidingandwriting]

Shower Suds.

summary: You give Soldat his first bath out of captivity.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Non-sexual nudity | Mentions of scars and injuries | Self-Harm mention | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior

a/n: This wasn't supposed to be so long, but somehow it always happens when I write about him. Something sorta comforting with some recovery thrown in there. Unedited because I worked on this for so long lol ignore mistakes please! ;; wc: 5.8k

Filthy. You felt bad, really.

There was a lot of problems to tackle with Soldat's condition, but first thing's first...the soldier needed a bath. Badly.

He was dirty, his hair knotted, matted, greasy, his skin was covered in sweat and dirt, probably blood under the black uniform he still wore. The poor man stunk, and he didn't seem to even notice. Or care.

You found yourself in a bit of a hard situation, unsure of the best approach to cleanse him. A bath seemed problematic; he would essentially be marinating in his own grime, which was far from ideal. Would he sit for that long? Would he fight you? You weren't entirely positive.

On the other hand, a shower presented its own set of challenges. Your observations over the past days had revealed his struggle with prolonged standing. He didn't seem to want to stand for very long and often sat or laid down when he could. The majority of his time was spent either huddled in the furthest corner of the room or barricaded within the confines of the small closet, as if seeking refuge from an unseen threat.

As you mulled over the options, weighing the pros and cons of each, you ultimately figured a shower would be better in terms of cleanliness…if anything, you could have him sit in the bottom of the tub. Better than sitting in dirty water with the increased possibility of infection.

But there was one problem. How the hell would you get him into the bathroom in the first place?

You took a breath in, preparing for the worst, and went to the room he stayed in. It was the spare room in your apartment you barely used, but had been furnished as a bedroom in case someone you knew needed a place for a night or something. Not that you ever figured your friends would want to stay with you, you didn't have many to begin with. When you came in, your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him, spotting him huddled up in the corner like expected.

He didn't look up at you when you walked in, his gaze fixed downward and obscured by the curtain of his long, unkempt hair. The stillness that enveloped him was almost unnerving. Only when you took a few steps closer did he react, his head snapping up at you. His eyes bright blue against the dark, messy ink that surrounded them, like he tried to smudge off the black paint but failed.

You took another step forward, your movements slow and deliberate. You could see the change in his demeanor immediately with your approach, even as careful as it was; his breathing became more rapid and shallow, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated pace like he was preparing to be harmed.

"It's okay," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand extended slightly, palm open to try to soothe him. Carefully, you lowered yourself to his level, bending your knees until you were crouching before him. This position, you hoped, would make you appear less imposing and more approachable.

In the few days he had been in your care, you had begun to discern patterns in his behavior, learning to recognize the subtle cues that indicated his comfort level. You had started to understand which actions he perceived as threatening and which ones helped him feel more at ease. It was a delicate balance, one that required patience and constant observation, but you were determined to create an environment where he could begin to feel safe and secure.

"I think...a bath sounds nice. Doesn't it?" You asked him softly, smiling slightly to show you weren't intending to do any sort of harm. "It will feel good to clean off all that dirt...nice and warm water too...you've been shivering." You noted how cold he appeared to be, he was still latched in his cold clothes from when you found him. You were surprised the uniform kept in water.

He remained motionless, prompting you to reluctantly take a step backwards to leave him alone, you’d try later. As you turned away, the faint sound of movement caught your attention. Glancing back, you saw the soldier had risen to his feet, his eyes fixed upon you with an air of expectancy. "Would you like to come and shower?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Да." His voice was a harsh, grating sound, reminiscent of shattered glass scraping against parched earth. It was as though he hadn't uttered a word or tasted a drop of water in an eternity. Despite the brevity and roughness of his reply, it carried a weight of affirmation. You found yourself oddly relieved by this simple acknowledgment. It wasn't much, but in that moment, it felt like a significant step forward. The fact that he had agreed seemed like a small victory.

You had him in the bathroom. That was a good thing.

You pivoted slowly to face him, your gaze carefully scanning his imposing figure. For behaving so meekly, he was an intimidating body to be this close to. Your eyes meticulously traced the contours of his suit, lingering on the intricate array of tactical belts and buckles that adorned his outfit. Each piece seemed to serve a specific purpose, hinting at the dangerous nature of his profession. Your hand tentatively reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they approached one of the sturdy buckles.

Your action was met with an immediate and startling response from the soldier. His metal hand shot up with inhuman speed, grasping your wrist tightly, the cold metal a stark contrast to your warm skin. His hold was firm and unyielding, like a vice grip, yet it wasn't painful.

As his hand clasped around your wrist, his entire body tensed, transforming into a living statue. You couldn't help but flinch slightly at the abruptness of his reaction, your body instinctively recoiling even as his grip held you in place.

"I-It's okay, I promise," you managed to say, your voice deliberately calm and steady to avoid startling him further. You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I'm just going to help you undress for the shower... I promise I won't hurt you or do anything you're not comfortable with. We're just getting you cleaned up, that's all."

Your words didn't seem to have much effect at first. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and his jaw flexed with tension. You remained patient, maintaining a soothing tone and open body language. "Take all the time you need," you added softly. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. It’s just you and me." His eyes scanned you intently, searching for any hint of deception or ill intent. You met his gaze steadily, allowing him to see the sincerity in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity, his grip on your wrist slowly loosened until he finally released you completely.

Second time's the charm. You reached out with steady hands, your fingers finding the first buckle on his tactical suit. With careful precision, you unfastened it, the metallic click echoing softly in the bathroom. Then, you moved to the next one, and the next, methodically working your way through each fastening. The process was slow but deliberate, each buckle giving way under your patient touch until, finally, the last one came undone. You paused, surveying your handiwork as the suit lay open, no longer confining him.

With the buckles undone, your attention turned to the decked out belt encircling his hips. You grasped the front, feeling the sturdy material beneath your fingers. You pulled the belt free from the thick buckle, the black leather sliding smoothly through the loops. As you removed the belt, you took care to lay it gently on the floor beside you, the heavy belt colliding with the tile was bound to make him jump and you didn’t want that.

The belt now removed, you returned your focus to the suit itself. Your hands found the straps, and you began to loosen them, pulling them out slowly and methodically. His uniform reminded you of a rehashed straight jacket, the uniform nearly acting just as one. When the tight suit gradually relinquished its grip, you noticed an immediate change in the soldier’s demeanor. The restrictive pressure eased, and you could see his chest rise and fall more freely. It was as if a weight had been lifted, allowing him to breathe deeply for the first time in who knows how long.

You watched, a mix of concern and relief washing over you, as he took in several deep breaths. The realization hit you then, a jolt of disbelief and worry. The suit had been so constricting that it had barely allowed him to breathe properly. The thought was infuriating. What kind of protection was that? What twisted logic had led to the creation of gear that endangered its wearer almost as much as it shielded them? You found yourself shaking your head in disbelief. What the hell...

"There we go...good..." You praised calmly, your voice a soothing whisper in the quiet room. He stood before you, now shirtless, his muscular frame tense with anticipation as he awaited your next move. Your eyes couldn't help but linger on his exposed torso, taking in every detail of his battle-worn body.

His skin was a canvas marked by the harsh realities of his past. Bruises in various stages of healing painted his flesh in a morbid palette of purples, yellows, and greens. Fresh cuts, angry and red, intermingled with older, silvery scars, creating a chaotic tapestry across his skin. Each mark had a different cause, accidental, intentional, self inflicted.

Your gaze was inevitably drawn to the most prominent feature: the junction where flesh met metal at his shoulder. The scar tissue surrounding his prosthetic arm was a sight that made your heart ache. It wasn't a clean, surgical line as one might expect, but rather a jagged, angry border that spoke of crude methods and little regard for the body it was attached to. The metal seemed to dig cruelly into his flesh, as if it were trying to consume more of him. You couldn't help but wonder about the pain he must have endured during the procedure, imagining how they had torn him apart with brutal efficiency, prioritizing function over comfort or aesthetics.

Despite the visible evidence of his suffering, he stood tall and stoic, awaiting your next move with a mixture of trust and trepidation in his eyes.

You offered him a gentle, comforting smile, you were acutely aware of his attempts to appear strong, but the reality of his fear was unmistakable. In that spare room, his demeanor reminded you of a cornered animal, flinching and retreating whenever the door creaked open. He cowered from you, even when you tried to give him water to drink. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, you didn’t know much of what happened just yet, but you knew whatever it was must’ve been utterly horrific.

"I'm going to help you out of your trousers now," you explained in a soft, reassuring tone. "Then we'll get you into the shower. The warm water will help you feel better, I promise." You paused, giving him a moment to process your words before adding, "Is that okay with you?"

He remained motionless. His lack of response was telling - not a nod, not a word, not even a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. He simply stood there, statuesque, as if bracing himself for whatever was to come next. The stillness was almost eerie, so you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to come. You truly hoped he wouldn't begin to put up a fight randomly, you knew you couldn't take him if he did.

You grasped the zipper of his pants and slowly pulled it down, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. As the fabric loosened, you gently tugged at the waistband, shuffling them down his muscular thighs and allowing the pants to fall around his ankles. Without a word, he stepped out of them, his movements controlled as he jerked his foot to get the leg of the pants off completely.

His gaze remained fixed on you, his expression betraying no hint of discomfort or self-consciousness at his state of undress. You found yourself averting your eyes, a mix of respect for his privacy and your own sudden shyness causing you to look away.

Turning your attention to the shower, you reached out and adjusted the taps, your hand testing the water until it reached a comfortably warm temperature, you could always adjust it upon request. The sound of cascading water filled the bathroom, creating a soothing ambiance. Once satisfied with the water's warmth, you looked back towards him, your arm extending in a welcoming gesture towards the bathtub. "Come on," you encouraged, your voice soft and inviting, "it's nice and warm." A gentle smile played on your lips, your expression meant to convey comfort and reassurance.

But even with your efforts, he remained motionless, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot where he stood. His lack of movement prompted you to maintain your encouraging demeanor, your smile unwavering as you waited patiently for him to make a decision.

The steam from the shower began to fill the room, creating a misty atmosphere that hung between you, yet he showed no signs of stepping forward or retreating. He just stood there, planted like a tree. You frowned, seeing that he wasn't going to budge.

"Hey, it's okay," you said softly, "It's just water, and it's nice and warm. I promise it will feel so good. You've been shivering for a while now, and I bet the warmth will be really comforting for your cold skin. There's nothing to be afraid of." You continued to encourage him, your tone patient and understanding.

The soldier's reaction was tense and wary. His metal arm plates made a series of soft clicking sounds as he shifted his arm and adjusted his stance, his body language radiating discomfort and distrust, maybe even a hint of growing agitation. The way he eyed the water, you could have sworn he thought you were about to subject him to some form of aquatic torture. His entire demeanor screamed of deep-seated fear and suspicion.

"It's alright, really... Look, see?" You demonstrated by reaching out and touching the water, letting your fingers trail through the warm liquid. You made sure he could clearly see that the water didn't cause you any harm or discomfort. Could he be afraid of the water? The concept seemed strange, but then again, you didn't really know or understand the full extent of his experiences or traumas. You had made so much progress with him already, and now all that remained was for him to sit under the water and allow you to wash him. It seemed so simple, and yet you could see the monumental struggle playing out behind his eyes.

He finally seemed to respond when he observed that you remained unharmed by the water, and he cautiously approached, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes wore wariness with a flicker of curiosity, carefully scanning your form and ensuring you made no abrupt or threatening gestures. As he inched closer, his body language betrayed a conflicting desire for comfort and an instinctive need for self-preservation.

Once he had convinced himself of a relative level of safety, he gingerly stepped into the bath. The warmth of the water seemed to catch him off guard, and with an almost childlike lack of grace, he unceremoniously lowered himself into a sitting position with a loud thud and for a moment, he appeared startled by his own actions.

Now fully seated on the bottom of the tub, he allowed the soothing warmth of the water to cascade down his dirt-encrusted body. The grime that had accumulated over time began to loosen and swirl around him, running down his body and creating murky patterns at the bottom of the textured bathtub.

He sat motionless, gradually acclimating to the comforting warmth of the water cascading down his back in a gentle, soothing shower. It was foreign to him, a luxury he had been denied for far too long. His time with HYDRA had been bereft of such simple comforts; the organization was a cruel and unforgiving entity, more akin to a heartless taskmaster than a nurturing presence.

His experiences with something as harmless as water was vastly different to what you were treating him with now - he was subjected to harsh, icy streams forcefully directed at him, the intense pressure through the hose so severe it felt as though it was stripping away layers of his skin.

He remembers being forcibly submerged by his handlers, a cruel and twisted game that shattered his expectations of a simple, cleansing bath. What should have been a moment of respite transformed into a nightmarish struggle for survival, where he was forced to submit to their ruthless whims.

The memory of sharp, abrasive bristles tearing at his skin and the application of painful, saline substances lingers. He didn’t want to think about the unnecessary groping he encountered either, something he wished he forgot along with his life during the chair’s wipes.

These traumatic encounters left an indelible mark on his psyche, turning what should have been a basic human necessity into a source of fear and anxiety. The handlers' sadistic approach to something as fundamental as personal hygiene served as a constant reinforcement of their control over every aspect of his existence, even the most intimate and essential.

For him, the act of bathing became synonymous with vulnerability, pain, and the complete loss of autonomy, a far cry from the soothing, rejuvenating experience it was meant to be.

This gentle treatment you were providing was so different from the abusive handling he had endured in HYDRA, it almost caused him to panic, the feigning comforts he were offered by handlers before tricked him too many times, and he refused to let his guard down.

His glacial eyes gazed up at you, the poor man looked absolutely pitiful under the steamy water, his once greasy hair now thoroughly soaked as rivulets ran down the contours of his entire body. You took a breath and exhaled out a soft sigh, your hand slowly reaching for your own body wash. You didn't have any products specifically designed for men, so your expensive shampoo would have to suffice until you went shopping.

You pumped the bottle twice, watching as the clear, slightly viscous shampoo pooled into your open palm and the refreshing scent of cucumber and mint permeated the humid air, filling your nostrils with its crisp, clean aroma. You turned and addressed him softly, "Alright, I'm going to wash your hair now. Just try to relax and sit still for me, okay? This might feel a bit cold at first, but I promise it'll feel good once I start massaging it in."

The soldier regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his eyes betraying only a hint of that fight-or-flight instinct, his mind was reeling as he battled the urge to respond to your presence. You knew he had the strength to easily break your arm if he chose to, so you tried your best to be as slow and careful as possible. Your fingers delicately threaded through his hair, methodically working the shampoo into a rich lather. You watched as the suds multiplied and foamed, the soapy shampoo pure white on top and slowly stained the closer it was to his scalp.

You noticed that every so often he would flinch ever so slightly or instinctively pull away from your hands. You wondered if he had hidden injuries or tender spots on his scalp, or bruises or cuts concealed beneath his hair, or maybe knots of tension that had formed from prolonged stress or blunt impacts. His hair must’ve been yanked around, his scalp was extremely tender and while you did your best to soothingly massage, he didn’t enjoy it as much as you hoped because of the discomfort there.

"It's okay, I understand it might be a bit uncomfortable. I’m just getting all that pesky dirt and grime out." You spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone, moving a little bit quicker so you could rinse and move on. After thoroughly rinsing his hair, you applied conditioner in the same manner as the shampoo, and then rinsed it out again. He looked much better now, his hair was now clean, wet, and sleek, with a smooth texture and a noticeable shine. It was so much better than before, and it had to feel better too.

Your hand extended under the rain of water, dampening a soft, handheld washcloth and applying a generous amount of body wash to it. You worked the cloth until it produced a rich lather. The soldier moved which caught your eye, you looked up at him and saw he had recoiled, his gaze fixed warily on the washcloth. He became noticeably slower and more hesitant, his eyes widening slightly as he regarded the cloth with apparent apprehension, as if it posed a threat. You furrowed your brow at his reaction to the cloth, he looked at it like you held a weapon of some kind.

"Hey, it’s alright…this won’t hurt. It’s just a cloth, see? A cloth with some soap," you said softly, you felt so torn up about his reaction to the simplest of things. "I won't hurt you, I promise, I'm just going to wash you a bit...get all that dirt and blood off you." You raised your hand holding the washcloth in a placating gesture. “It’s warm, it will feel good scrubbing off all that dirt, you’ll be nice and clean.”

Gradually, he relented and shifted backwards to where he had been sitting, permitting you to gently glide the damp cloth across his skin, meticulously removing every trace of grime from his body. After a few minutes of washing him, you noticed he was beginning to find comfort in the experience. His eyelids drooped, and his head dipped down slightly, a tired expression settling over his features as he succumbed to the soothing sensation of your ministrations. He wasn’t exactly serene, but he was too drowsy to focus on much else other than the feeling of the rag gliding over his back and flesh arm.

You adjusted him and you tended to his metal arm, diligently working the cloth between the intricate plates and joints of titanium, ensuring that no speck of dirt remained. You weren’t exactly sure how the arm was cleaned prior to finding him, but clearly there wasn’t a worry about rust or anything of the sort. The soldier remained motionless, allowing you unhindered access as the warm water cascaded over his back, leaving a rosy tinge in its wake. He enjoyed the hot temperature, he hadn’t felt hot water in decades.

Your focus then shifted to his lower extremities, concentrating on scrubbing his legs and feet. As the rag moved up to a more sensitive area, you paused, pulling the rag off his skin and slowly extending the washcloth to him. You pointed towards his privates, you softly instructed, "You can…get right there, I’d rather not touch you in that spot."

The furrow on the soldier's brow gave away his visible confusion, his eyes darting between you and the offered rag with a mixture of uncertainty and hesitation. It was clear that he was contemplating with the decision of whether to accept your gesture or not, if there was an ulterior motive, or if this was some sort of test. After what seemed like an eternity of internal debate, he finally extended a trembling hand towards you. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were approaching a wild animal rather than a simple cloth.

He grasped the rag from your outstretched palm, his fingers curling around it slowly. Once in possession of the cloth, he set about the task of cleaning himself. His actions, though quick, lacked the assurance of someone accustomed to such basic self-care. Each motion seemed so carefully calculated, as if he were relearning a long-forgotten, essential skill. It had been so long since he was allowed to clean himself. His movements were unsteady, his hands quivering slightly as he went about his ablutions.

It had clearly been an extensive period since he had been granted even this small measure of independence. The concept of autonomy was a luxury he had been denied for far too long.

When he was done with his hurried cleansing, the soldier's gaze immediately sought yours out. His eyes, still holding the rag, were filled with expectation, awaiting your next command. His posture tense and ready to respond to whatever instruction you might provide. The rag remained clutched in his hand, as if he were unsure whether to return it or continue holding onto this small token of independence.

"Good, you're all done," you offered a warm smile to him. Despite the wounds still visible on his body, you felt a sense of accomplishment knowing that at least the layers of dirt and grime had been washed away, your work getting him clean would pay off and be better for the both of you. You reached over and turned off the water, the sudden silence broken only by the soft dripping from the showerhead. "Let's get you dried off," you said softly, gesturing for him to step out of the shower.

He complied wordlessly, his movements careful as he stepped onto the bathroom mat. You couldn't help but notice how vulnerable he looked, standing there dripping wet, his eyes never leaving your face, his body completely littered in discoloration. Reaching for a large, fluffy towel, you unfolded it and wrapped it around his shoulders, enveloping him in its warmth to fight off the rapidly cooling water droplets all over him.

As you began to slowly dry his body, you noticed a change come over him. His softened expression now returned to its usual blank mask and the brief relaxation he showed in the shower was long gone by now. His body returned to the stiffness he had before he got in. His eyes remained fixed on you, following your every movement with an intensity that was almost unnerving.

You worked in the quiet calm of the bathroom, carefully patting dry each part of his body, mindful of his injuries. The soldier remained motionless, allowing you to maneuver him as needed, but offering no assistance, like a doll. It was as if he had retreated back into himself, leaving only an empty shell for you to tend to. You wondered what he was thinking behind those watchful, guarded eyes, they were pretty up close. Glacial, stormy blue irises that had been glued to you since you started to tend to him.

After drying him off, you were lucky to find a pair of boxers in your apartment and helped him into them, where they came from wasn’t something you could remember at the moment, but you were glad you had them. He cooperated as you dressed him, then stood there clutching the towel around himself like a security blanket.

His gaze fixed on you with a mixture of expectation and vulnerability, as if silently asking for further guidance or comfort. His wide eyes blinked languidly, and his soft pink lips formed an almost imperceptible pout, giving him an endearing, slightly lost appearance.

Lost. He embodied the word entirely. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Taking in his disheveled state, you smiled a little, "How about we get your hair detangled, hm?" Your voice was warm and reassuring as you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the damp strands, feeling the water practically seep out of the ends.

The soldier's reaction was a mix of acceptance and hesitation. While he didn't outright reject the idea, there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in his demeanor. However he didn’t dare reject the idea, worried about any kind of retaliation. So he made his way to the stool nestled beneath the counter and lowered himself onto it. As he settled into position, maintaining a stoic silence, his eyes continued to convey that enigmatic expression, hinting at unspoken thoughts or emotions.

You positioned yourself behind him, your hands instinctively reaching for a comb and a bottle of detangling spray already sat out from your use earlier that day. You recalled how your fingers had encountered numerous knots and tangles when you washed his hair, and thinking about how knotted it looked dirty made you sigh outwardly.

The fine mist of the detangling spray settled on his hair as you applied it methodically, you guided the comb through his locks, working patiently to untangle any knots you encountered. You tried to be as gentle as possible, knowing not only were there a ton of knots, but you remembered his scalp was especially sensitive and sore.

Soldat remained still as a statue, his posture composed and unwavering. His disciplined demeanor allowed you to work unimpeded, your movements careful and unhurried. He maintained a firm grip on the towel draped securely around his body, the fabric acting almost like a barrier and protecting him from the world. You continued to work the comb through his hair, encountering tangles and knots that spoke of recent exertion or neglect.

The process of detangling was slow, your touch continued to be gentle yet purposeful, muttering soft apologies when you ran into an unexpected knot. Teasing apart the snarls with patience and skill, the resistance lessened, and you found yourself able to run the comb smoothly through his hair, the strands falling into neat alignment.

"There we are... much better," you praised softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The sight of his hair, now brushed out and free of tangles, felt like a monumental achievement. You couldn't help but admire how the clean, detangled strands caught the light, a stark contrast to their earlier disheveled state. Your fingers ran through his locks, gently ruffling the hair from being so flat against his scalp.

You couldn't help but notice the angry red lines marring his skin, peeking out from beneath the towel. The blotchy colors on his skin that ranged from purple to blue, it made you frown. Your instincts as a caretaker kicked in, and you found yourself wondering if he would allow you to tend to those wounds. Hesitantly, you reached out, your fingers barely grazing the edge of the towel just wanting to get a better look at them.

In an instant the soldier suddenly sprang to life, standing with such force that the stool he had been perched on skidded across the tile floor, the harsh scraping sound shattering the previous calm. He retreated to the far corner of the bathroom, his body language screaming defensiveness.

His eyes, which had been closed or downcast for most of your interaction, now bore into you with an intensity that made you freeze. They held fear, yes, but also a raw, primal aggression that sent a shiver down your spine. It was the look of a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

You immediately backpedaled, not wanting to trigger any aggression from him. "Okay, okay... no wound checks," you reassured as you raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. You took a step back, giving him more space, silently cursing yourself for pushing too far, too fast. The fragile trust you had built over the past few minutes seemed to hang by a thread, you didn’t want to snap the little you had.

Your words had a calming effect on Soldat, who clutched the towel tightly in his fists, ensuring it remained securely wrapped around him. His gaze drifted down to his soiled attire, prompting you to shake your head in disapproval. "No, those definitely need to be washed," you explained, your voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur, "And to be honest, these can hardly be called proper clothes. I'll make sure to get you some suitable ones tomorrow, alright?"

Soldat's eyes met yours once more, his gaze still carrying a hint of coldness and wariness, but he managed a brief, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. You gathered his discarded garments and deposited them into the washing machine, silently hoping that the combination of leather and other materials wouldn't prove too much for the aging appliance. The damn thing had to be ran twice already, you just couldn’t afford to buy a new one right now.

As you busied yourself with setting the appropriate wash cycle, Soldat seized the opportunity to hastily retreat to the room that had been designated as his temporary living space.

He immediately gravitated towards the floor, as he had been the past few days. You hadn't seen him use the bed at all, rather stay cuddled in the corner or inside the small space of the closet. The towel long forgotten and laid splayed out on the floor, he ripped the blankets off the bed in one fluid motion and proceeded to wrap himself up in them, burrowing beneath the layers of fabric for comfort and security. The blankets having replaced the towel's symbolism for safety.

You wished he’d rest on the bed rather than the floor, but you knew better than to try to alter what he was doing. Leave him to be comfortable on his own, that is the best thing to do in this situation. And if Soldat wants to sleep on the floor in a huddle of blankets, then fine.

You approached the doorway, peering inside to see him nestled in a cocoon of blankets. His exhaustion was written on his face, yet there was a noticeable improvement in his appearance. The layer of grime and perspiration that had clung to his skin was now gone, you knew he had to feel somewhat refreshed.

You cautiously stepped into the room and made your way towards him, acutely aware of how his body tensed at your approach. In response to your closer proximity, he burrowed deeper into the thick comforter that enveloped him, seeking refuge from your presence.

A soft, reassuring sound escaped your lips as you placed a water bottle within his reach. As you anticipated, he remained motionless under the comforter, offering no acknowledgment of your thoughtful action. He stayed hidden beneath the layers of fabric, like a child seeking shelter from imaginary monsters lurking in the shadows.

"Get some rest, Soldat..." you whispered gently, your voice barely above a murmur. "I'll be down in the other room if you need anything. Don't hesitate to call for me, even for the smallest thing." With that reassurance, you slowly stood back up and turned to walk out. A faint noise suddenly caught your attention, causing you to pause mid-step.

The gentle rustling of the comforter drew your gaze back towards the floor, curiosity piquing your interest. The soldier cautiously peeked out from under the blanket's edge. His tired, weary eyes met your inquisitive ones, there was a beat of silence.

"Спасибо," the soldier rasped out, his voice meek and slightly hoarse from disuse, but still loud enough for you to hear clearly.

"You're welcome..."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

[reidingandwriting]

steve harrington da type of guy to close a drawer with his hip

[reidingandwriting]

Lover (Steve Harrington’s Version)

Chapter Five: Lover

“I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all”

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mentions of pregnancy, mild language

A/N: This is the end of the Steve series, but I will be working on an Eddie series soon! Trying to decide where I want to put him but I had the most fun writing this one so I hope y’all enjoyed <3

Previous chapter

“Settle down, settle down,” Steve scolded while laughing. You and Steve had hosted Christmas at your house, your shared house. Steve couldn’t believe it. The two of you had a house together. Granted, it was a rental but still. You had a home. One that he could host holidays at, one decorated with Christmas lights and a beautiful Christmas tree that had piles of presents underneath. A Christmas record played loudly throughout the house, the house bustling with conversation and laughter.

You were so excited to have hosted the group; hot chocolate had been made for the teens (spiked for the adults) and you and Steve had made Christmas cookies the night before. Well, you made them. Steve was allowed to decorate while you baked. Steve cooked dinner as you cleaned, and you were braiding Max’s hair, talking to Nancy and Robin, while Max talked to El and Erica. You were a little off the last few days, and you were insistent that everything was perfect.

Even now, you seemed to be worried about something from the way you gnawed at your bottom lip. You finished braiding Max’s hair with a smile and then declared it was time to pass out presents. The group decided to do a Secret Santa type of exchange and as you settled into your spot beside Steve, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Dustin, why don’t you and Lucas pass out the presents?” Steve suggested and the boys got up, quickly passing out gifts.

“Who’s first?” Robin asked and you paused for a moment.

“Erica, why don’t you go first? Then you can pick who’s next.” You smiled at the youngest member of the group and Erica nodded as she opened her present. Erica had been gifted a Dungeons & Dragons book and new dice from Dustin. Will was given a similar gift from Mike, Max received new cassettes for her Walkman, Dustin received one of Eddie’s old jackets and guitar pick necklaces (and Steve definitely didn’t get a little pouty about it).

By the end of gift giving, you were tucked into the blanket given to you by El and you turned to look at Max. You nodded at her and Max got up, rushing to your room.

“Where is she going?” Steve asked and you turned to face him.

“I have one other gift for you. And a gift for all the girls and the guys.” Steve studied you, noticing how nervous you looked.

“You okay?” Steve mouthed and you nodded, gently taking his hand in your own. Max came back a minute later, giving one box to Eddie, one to Nancy, and one to Steve.

“Make sure everyone can see,” you said as everyone gathered together. “Go ahead.” Everyone opened their gifts, Steve opening his rather quickly and freezing when he pulled away the tissue paper.

“Dingus? You okay-“ Robin paused as Nancy gasped. In Steve’s box, was a positive pregnancy test and a soft yellow onesie with a sonogram in the middle of the box. In the boys’ box, a red, black, and gray tie dyed onesie with ‘Uncles favorite dungeon master’ on the front. In the girls’ box, a pink onesie with ‘I have the best aunts ever’ on the front.

Everyone looked at Steve, waiting to see his reaction with bated breath. You felt more and more anxious the longer Steve went without talking, until you saw the tear slide down his cheek.

“We’re having a baby?” Steve whispered and you nodded. A beat of silence passed before he hugged you tight, and the room erupted with cheers and congratulations. Your shirt grew wet with tears, and you combed through his hair. You smiled when Steve’s gaze met yours, and you felt relieved when Steve smiled back at you.

“Wait, how come Max got to know first?” Robin whined and everyone laughed as Max stuck her tongue out at Robin.

“We were shopping a few weeks ago when I started feeling sick and the dots connected from there. I took, like, three tests and they were all positive. I freaked out and she helped me out.” You were properly panicking in the bathroom the day you found out you were pregnant, and Max had calmed you down.

“Steve’s, like, disgustingly in love with you. And he’s already such a dad, he’ll be so happy when he finds out you’re starting your own family.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, okay.”

“And you’re pretty good too. That baby would be lucky to have you as a mom,” Max’s gaze traveled to the floor and you smiled, hugging the teen close.

“And it’ll have the best aunts and uncles ever. Especially in my favorite teen,” you said and Max hugged you tighter.

“I think Harrington’s broken,” Eddie said and you turned to look at Steve, who admittedly did look like he was rebooting.

“Stevie,” you said and Steve’s eyes flickered up to meet yours. “Let’s go to the kitchen for a second.” You stood up and Steve followed. “Why don’t you pick out some movies?” You asked as you turned to the teens. “Get the living room nice and comfy for movie night? The extra blankets are in the hall closet.” Robin nodded, taking Nancy with her to gather supplies and you walked with Steve to the kitchen. “You’re kind of scaring me a little,” you said and Steve ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m a little scared,” Steve admitted. “I mean, you know how our parents were. I’m terrified I’m going to mess up. I’m terrified I’m going to screw up this kid.”

“I am too,” you said. You brought your hand to Steve’s face, gently tilting his chin so he looked at you. “Max literally had to talk me down from a meltdown. She seems to have more faith in us than we do.” You chuckled as you moved forward, burying your face in Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head.

“We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” you echoed and looked up at Steve. His brown eyes were flooded with emotions, concern being one of them, but hope being another one. Love being the main one you saw and you leaned up. Soft lips met your own, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against soft locks of hair.

“We should probably go check on the rest of them, they’re being too calm.” Steve said as he broke the kiss and you sighed dramatically.

“One of the girls would’ve snitched by now,” you said and Steve huffed out a laugh as he followed you back to the living room.

-

Steve looked around the living room, now late in the night. The teens were all asleep by this point. Eddie sprawled out in a chair, Nancy and Robin on the loveseat. You were curled into Steve’s side as you sat on the couch. The overhead lights were off, the living room only lit by the Christmas tree lights and the glow of the television that was ignored as everyone talked.

“Do you know how far along you are?” Nancy asked and you nodded.

“Eight weeks. By August, we’ll have our little one,” you said. August, holy shit. “Do not expect my heavily pregnant ass anywhere outside once June hits. Will not be getting all hot and sweaty, thank you.”

“This is so exciting. Coming up with baby names, decorating the nursery,” Robin said.

“Have any mother’s intuition on what it is?” Eddie asked. You paused for a minute, thinking but shook your head. “What about you, Harrington? Any guesses?”

“I’m feeling girl,” Steve said and you hummed in response.

“Considering right now it’s the size of a raspberry, we have a while to figure out what it’ll be.” You teased. “Whatever the little nugget is, it’s the luckiest baby ever with so many aunts and uncles.”

“So many babysitters,” Steve said and you laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even held a baby,” Eddie said and you found yourself giggling.

“Me either, honestly. I’ll be a pro in the teenage years though after dealing with these hellions so long.” Robin snorted and you looked around.

You had the happiest smile on your face and Steve felt lighter than he had in ages. All of his worries just, melted away as he watched you and his friends interact. He never imagined he would have a life like this. Surrounded by friends who loved him just as hard as he loved them. A family he had made of his own, and now you, giving him a new addition to the family. He never imagined he would get the chance to have the life he always dreamed of, and he was determined to never let it go.

-

It was early the next morning, you and Steve cooking breakfast while everyone else continued to sleep. A pot of coffee brewed and you knew it wouldn’t be long before the smell roused Robin.

“It’s so pretty in there with the lights up. Feels more homey. We should leave them up for a few more days.” You said and Steve wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. You fed him a piece of bacon, and Steve relished in the way your nose scrunched up when he kissed your cheek.

“It’s our house. We can do whatever we want. We make the rules,” Steve said and you smiled up at him. “Just got the table set up. Saved you a seat.”

“Next to Robin?” You teased, giggling when Steve pouted at you. You both looked over when you heard the sounds of shuffling, greeted by Robin’s half awake body taking a seat at the table. “Speak of the devil.” You and Steve swapped places, him finishing up breakfast and starting to plate everything while you made Robin a cup of coffee. You slid the mug over to her, Robin humming her thanks as she took a sip.

“Wanna wake the rest of the heathens up?” Steve asked as he started to carry plates to the table, and you nodded. You ruffled Robin’s hair as you walked past her.

“You two are so domestic, it’s disgusting.” Robin said and Steve shot her an unamused look.

“Remind me how you and Nancy were sleeping last night?” Steve smirked as Robin blushed, quieting when the others walked in.

Everyone situated themselves at the large dining table and the kitchen bar, tired ‘thanks’ being given to you and Steve. You settled into your spot beside Steve, Dustin sitting on Steve’s other side while Max sat on your other side. Dustin pouted from his spot and you looked over at the curly haired teen. “What’s up, Dustin?”

“Max said I could sit by you!” Dustin whined and Max laid her head on your shoulder, and you didn’t have to look at her to imagine the smug smile on her face.

“You should’ve known, dude,” Steve said and Dustin glared at him.

“Children, children, calm down.” You tried to hide the amusement in your voice but based on the shit eating grin Eddie gave you, it wasn’t working. “Remember how we’re going to watch fireworks for New Year’s? Dustin, you and Max can sit beside me during the fireworks. And I’ll pick you up first.”

“Deal.” Dustin said triumphantly before he started to make his plate.

“When did you become his favorite?” Steve pouted and you laughed, making your own plate. You and Steve definitely had an interesting friend group, but you wouldn’t trade your family for the world.

And one warm night in late July, your family had a new addition. A daughter by the name Amelia Maxine Harrington. And it would be your little secret that it was Steve’s idea to include Max’s name as a part of your daughter’s. You may not have had the most loving home growing up, but you swore to Amelia that she’d know nothing but love and care as long as you and Steve were around. And with the help of her several aunts and uncles, you knew she’d be okay.