#I feel like I need to write for Peanuts more…

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙰 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 ~

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚁𝙽 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙸 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴!!! 𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙵𝙵 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙰𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙳𝙷𝙳𝙷!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟹𝟺𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 ⚾️💛

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 🎃❤️

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝚂; 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂. 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙺𝚂!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 😚💞

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚🕺🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🫶🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🕺🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝙾𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈🫶🏾˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was a nice, cool and collected October afternoon.

The air smelled like October…the tree’s looked like October…

…And everything just felt…October-ish in a way; if that makes any sense…

It was the end of the school day; and just like any intelligent and studious student…you would assume doing your homework as soon as you got home would be the best bet, right?

Well…not for Linus Van Pelt and Charlie Brown. 

The two best friends have been playing video games for the past…two hours; give or take? 

And their homework would most likely not be finished until���probably…midnight…

…But the two had priorities. Very good ones in fact!

And one of the main priorities they had as of right now was finishing their video game. 

(A wonderful priority if you ask me).

And to make it even better, Charlie was surprisingly…winning! 

Which…was something in his life that didn’t happen…much, if, not at all. 

Linus looked at the small TV screen in slight disbelief as his best friend managed to score yet another point in Mario Kart.

The brunette chuckled at the action, a mix of surprise and amusement in his voice, “Wow…I didn't know you were such a video game expert, Char. You’re destroying me, here.”

Charlie giggled, “I guess I am, aren’t I?”

The younger boy shook his head, feigning an offended tone, “You 'guess', huh?” The red cladded preteen snickered as he put the controller to the side, “Don’t let it get to your head. You're supposed to be letting me win, after all."

“You wouldn’t win even if I let you.” The other chuckled. 

“Wha— exCUSE me?!” Linus gasped dramatically. 

“You’re excused...” Charlie said cheekily as the TV roared with champion music, displaying the results of the leader board as the yellow cladded preteen was shown as the winner. 

“…Looks like I win.” The older grinned.

“That’s not faaaaair!!!” The younger one whined, pointing his finger accusingly at his best friend, “You cheated!”

Charlie Brown let out a small huff of laughter, raising an amused brow as he crossed his arms, “Hohow dihid I cheat? Yohou watched me plahay!” 

The red cladded preteen rolled his eyes, looking away from his friend as he sulked, “Whatever...”

Charlie rested his head on his friend’s shoulder whilst teasingly poking his cheek, “It’s okay to lose, Li. We all have to at some point.”

“You lose all the time in…like…w-well, everything!” The shorter teen retorted.

“But I’m not losing right now, am I?” The honey brown eyed preteen grinned smugly, going out to poke the other’s cheek one more time but was stopped as Linus grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms above his head with one hand as he sat on his friend’s thighs.

Charlie’s eyes widened, kicking his legs underneath Linus as he tried to get out of the hold.

…Good…grief.

The one in red used his free hand to tickle the other’s side, dancing his fingers diligently and effortlessly which caused Charlie to absolutely shriek, shaking his head as he stomped his feet on the carpeted floor. 

Linus chuckled, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment and the adorable sound of his friend’s shriek as he tickled his sides.

The brown eyed preteen was barely even tickling him!

…In fact, Linus was barely getting started.

The younger smiled slyly, “Huh...who would’ve known? The great video game champion is ticklish…”

“N-Nohohohoh!!” The other kid giggled helplessly. 

“'No?' You seem pretty ticklish to me, Char.“ The brunette haired preteen mused. 

“I-Ihihi’m nahahat!” The older cried. 

Linus rolled his eyes fondly as he doubled down on the tickling, his grin stretching wider. He released his friend’s wrists and he pinched his hips, chuckling at the giggly denial the other was sputtering through his laughs.

I mean, come on now. Linus knew Charlie Brown since…kindergarten. 

…The two were only in fifth grade…but still! His point still boldly stands!!!

“Oho, you're not, huh? Then how come you're giggling and squirming around so much?“

“I-Ihihi’m nahahat!” The honey brown eyed kid desperately denied which Linus to only laughed out loud in result, his fingers still dancing over his best friend’s sides. 

He looked at the taller boy with mock seriousness, still smiling widely as the other wriggled and writhed. 

“Oho really? Because your giggling is telling me a veeeeery different story~!” The red cladded preteen smiled smugly as he started to knead the other’s hips, “Just say you’re ticklish…'cuz I know you know you are…no matter how much you deny it. 

Charlie Brown just snorted, hugging his middles and kicking his legs slightly as Linus continued with his tickling onslaught, making sure to leave the other boy in utter stitches.

“Cohome on, Char! Admit it! Just say, your ticklish and this can aaaaaall be over~! You know you want to~!” The hazel eyed teen said as he tickled his best friend’s stomach swiftly.

And in result, the yellow cladded preteen genuinely screamed in a result to the new sensation on his tummy, grabbing the other’s wrists but not quite pushing them away. 

Linus just grinned, enjoying the silliness of the situation, “Pff— how about now, Char~? Are you still 'not ticklish~?'” He teased as he continued to tickle the taller oh-so casually, “Y'know…the more you deny it, the more I'm tempted to keep going~!” 

The honey brown eyed preteen’s whole face turned to a bright red as he tugged on his best friend’s hands, “NAHAHAHAH— snrk LIHINUHUS!!”

The younger boy found his best friend’s giggling both adorable yet hilarious at the same time; continuing to tickle the other on his stomach and not showing the slightest sign of stopping anytime soon.

“D'aww~! Your little snorts nehever get old…” The younger smiled fondly, “Come on, Char, just say it! I won't stop until you do~!”

“LIHI— snrk!! PLEHEASE NAHAHOH!!” Charlie Brown cackled.

“But all you have to do is admit it, Char-Char~! Just say you’re soooo ticklish and the tickling will stop!” The hazel eyed preteen casually said.

The slightly taller kid snorted, flapping his hands on his friend’s arms. Linus glanced at his best friend's happy stims and smiled, pausing his tickling torment for juuuuust a moment.

“Your happy stimming is so. freaking. cute!” The younger gushed, “But~! We're not done here; not until you say those two magic words..." He said as he resumed the tummy tickling with a smirk.

Charlie snorted, “LIHI LIHIHI!! PLEHEHEASE!!!”

“Awe…is that a 'please' I hear? Sounds like someone's starting to give in…”

“I’M TICKLISH!! IHIHIHI’M TIHICKLIHISH!!!” The yellow cladded preteen cackled despretley 

“Those aren’t the magic words, Charlie Brooown~!” Linus grinned evilly, leaning down and blowing a raspberry on his best friend’s stomach. 

The older let out an embarrisngly loud squeal at the sensation on his said stomach, covering his face with his arms as he laughed hysterically. 

“Oho gosh…I forgot how sensitive your tummy is...” Linus giggled in between breaths.

“IHIHITS SNRK NAHAHAT!!” The other denied.

“It’s not? Are you sure? 'Cuz this seems like a goldmine for your giggles, Charlie..” The younger said matter-of-factly as he lightly scribbled his nails around the elder’s bellybutton as he raspberried his sides. 

The elder in question howled, arching his back and cackling madly, “GAHAHASH NOHOH! HIC! WHYHYHY THAHAHAT?!”

“Because you loooove it~!”

“PLEHEASE!! LIHIHI NOHOHAH— SNRK! STAHAHAP!!!”

“But this cute little giggle spot is so yummy, Char! I just need to...” And with that, Linus blew the most freaking ticklish raspberry Charlie Brown’s ever felt directly on his bellybutton. 

Happy tears ran down the older’s face, lying limp on the carpet as he laughed like The Joker, “LINUS IHI’M SOSOHO TICKLISH!!! IHI’M TICKLISH JUHUHUST PLEEHEHEASE!!!”

The red cladded preteen stopped immediatley, getting off and lying down next his best friend as his best friend in question tried to catch his breath. 

“Ihihi’m gohohonna gehehet yohou back…”

“I’m sure you will, Char.” Linus snickered, sitting back against the couch as he grabbed his and Charlie’s playstations and waving them around teasingly, “Best out of three?”

“Oho you’re ohon.” The older grinned, snatching back the gaming device as they placed video games throughout the night.

…Perhaps that homework could wait until tomorrow…

[beast-of-the-void]

.

[em1i2a3]

can you do bob x reader where he sees us interacting with a child and it makes him want to be a father so bad?

It’s You I’m Thinking Of

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/ The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Fem!Reader

Summary: Valentina organizes a PR event for the Thunderbolts and during the event Bob realizes that he may want more out of life than just saving the world.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because of Bob’s involvement and because some events are mentioned in passing. Fluff, a hint of Angst and an Established Relationship is at the forefront here.

Author's Note: Surprise, it’s double update day…Because I had this in my drafts and forgot to post it…YIKES. I found this to be so fluffy and cute to write! Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this a lot!

Word Count: 3,805

Valentina had called it a “Visibility Effort,” which–as far as Bob was concerned–was just a polished way of saying: “I need people to stop thinking you guys are monsters, so go smile for the cameras and pretend you guys didn’t almost destroy New York City a year ago.”

The Thunderbolts had only just begun to scrape their way back into the public’s good graces after the Void. If grace could even be applied to a team that, not long ago, had been seen as volatile assets in containment rather than heroes in recovery. But Valentina didn’t care about semantics–she cared about optics. And what better way to scrub down their image than to host a carefully staged, feel-good community day in a public park–complete with banners, press kits, and security briefings disguised as media rundowns.

The day before, you and the rest of the team had been sweating under the sun, assembling the layout from the ground up. Tent poles groaned in the wind, tarps snapped against knuckles, and the oversized bouncy castle–more akin to a pop-up cathedral–took three hours to stabilize. It loomed over the field like a surreal monument to liability.

By sundown, the park had been transformed.

Face-painting booths stretched along the paved path like an art market in miniature, each tent hung with paper lanterns and garlands of plastic ivy. A ring toss area had been set up beside a small prize table, its wares still barcoded and smelling faintly of plastic and lemon cleaner. Further down, a row of food trucks idled along the lot’s edge, the air thick with fried batter and roasted peanuts, preparing for the next day. A banner, bold and hopeful, rippled above the main walkway: THUNDERBOLTS COMMUNITY GIVEBACK DAY!

The park was bustling before noon the next day.

Children darted between booths with faces half-painted and shoes untied. Parents loitered on benches, plastic cups of lemonade in hand, cautiously optimistic about letting their kids near a group of enhanced individuals who, six months ago, were being referred to as national liabilities. Still, smiles came easier than expected. The air smelled like kettle corn, sun-warmed vinyl, and freshly cut grass.

Valentina had positioned her pawns with precision, each member of the team slotted into a role meant to soften their image–familiar, friendly, safe.

Yelena was stationed at the face-painting table. She didn’t argue when she was assigned to it, though she rolled her eyes hard enough that everyone could basically hear it. Now, seated with a paintbrush balanced between her fingers, she looked…Focused. Delicate even. She painted dragons, daisies, and one incredibly accurate depiction of Bucky’s old Winter Soldier face paint layout. She didn’t say much unless spoken to, but the kids flocked to her. Her bluntness came off as hilarious to them. Her gentleness? Earned in silence.

Walker manned the obstacle course–one of the only areas Valentina trusted him not to overcomplicate. With his sleeves rolled up and clipboard tucked under his arm, he barked out encouragements that sounded suspiciously like bootcamp commands. But he was patient. He let kids redo the course as many times as they wanted. And when one boy tripped near the finish line, Walker helped him up without hesitation and whispered something that made the kid’s chest puff with pride.

Ava floated between stations like an unofficial supervisor. She had no designated role, but her presence was felt and it was heavy. She hovered near the cotton candy vendor long enough to be offered a free sample, then spent ten minutes helping a little girl reattach the wheel to her toy stroller. Ava didn’t smile often, but she kept her sunglasses off today. It mattered more than anyone would admit.

Alexei had placed himself right in the center of the park’s open lawn, surrounded by children wielding foam swords. He was absolutely in his element. Towering, loud, enthusiastic. He let them “ambush” him over and over again, dramatically collapsing onto the grass as they tackled him, crying out in mock defeat with every fall. When one kid asked if he was Santa, Alexei laughed so hard he nearly swallowed a whistle. He’d fashioned a red Thunderbolts cap to resemble something almost festive. No one stopped him.

Bucky was at the photo booth. Not because Valentina assigned it to him–but because he asked. Quietly. Just once. And when she raised a brow, he explained:

“Kids like the arm. Makes them feel like they’re meeting a real superhero.”

No one argued with that.

He stood beside the printed backdrop of a Thunderbolts mural, his vibranium arm resting lightly at his side. At first, only a few families came by. Then word got around. By midday, there was a line curling around the booth. Bucky posed with toddlers who clung to his leg, tweens who wanted to see if he could lift them with his arm alone, and teens who just wanted proof they’d stood next to him. He let them. All of them.

And you–you’d been running the craft tent since the gates opened. Low folding tables filled with paper crowns, pipe cleaners, sticker sheets, and markers with their caps long lost to time. You moved between projects with practiced ease, coaxing confidence out of even the shyest children. One girl in a purple tutu had stuck to your side all morning, proudly referring to you as “Miss Thunderbolt” like it was an official title.

Bob on the other hand…Wasn’t assigned a booth.

Valentina had called it a “strategic decision”–which meant don’t scare the kids. She hadn’t said it outright, of course, but Bob understood the subtext. The others had made peace with their reputations, learned how to bend their edges into something palatable. Bob’s problem wasn’t sharpness. It was scale. People didn’t look at him and see a man. They saw The Void. A storm in a body. The thing that turned Manhattan’s sky black almost a year ago. Or they saw him as Golden Boy Sentry, which he rarely presented himself as now because all of that was dormant since the incident, so he was just Bob, and unfortunately nobody was really interested in just Bob.

Except you of course.

You had grown extremely close to him throughout the time he was recovering from the incident. You would stay back from missions just to keep him company, and within those small moments, the two of you grew a bond and became inseparable.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no big declaration, no kiss in the rain, no sweeping hand grab before battle. It was subtle–gentle, even. A shared quiet. The way you waited for him to speak on his own terms. The way you handed him warm drinks without comment and sat beside him on the floor of his room during the worst days, and just held him or smoothed his hair down. The way you always reached for his hand under the table when Valentina debriefed the team about “public image,” like you were grounding yourself in him, not the other way around.

It started with one date. A walk. A drink from the local coffee shop that you used two straws for. A movie you barely paid attention to because Bob had cried halfway through and apologized for it, and you’d told him, “I’d rather watch you feel something than watch the movie anyway.”

Now it had been nearly a year.

A quiet year. A healing one. A year where Bob–somehow–had begun to believe that maybe he wasn’t made just for disaster. Maybe he was allowed to want softness. Warmth. You.

So he stayed near you now, just like he always did. Even in the middle of this pastel-bright circus of a public relations stunt, even with the buzzing press cameras and the thunder of kids’ shoes over packed grass–he stood a few feet behind your tent. Watching quietly like he always did.

You didn’t need him to be part of the event. You didn’t ask him to engage. You just wanted him to be close and hover around you. And every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder and give him a little smile–soft, unhurried, like a tether that reminded him that he was still on your mind.

That’s what he was doing when it happened.

You were helping a child–maybe four, maybe five–cut out the outline of a star from glitter paper. She was sitting in your lap, legs swinging off the edge of the bench, her small fingers clumsy around the safety scissors. You guided her hands with your own, gentle and patient, your chin tucked down as you murmured something too soft for him to hear. The girl giggled. You smiled. And Bob felt something in his chest fracture.

It bloomed sharp and sudden, like a crack in glass that spiderwebbed behind his ribs before he could stop it. A low, aching pressure that pulsed under his skin and settled into his throat. He couldn’t look away from you. From the way the little girl leaned back against your chest, utterly content, while you helped her snip the edges of her glittery star. Your voice was low, your hand steady on hers, and when she got frustrated, you smiled and told her it was perfect just the way it was.

And the little girl–she believed you.

Bob watched her beam like she’d just won a medal, then twist to throw her arms around your neck. You hugged her back instinctively, without missing a beat, without needing to think about it.

And just like that, Bob saw it.

Not as a fantasy. Not as a warm, fuzzy, distant dream.

He saw you. Sitting in a living room. Soft lamplight across your shoulders. A child curled into your lap with a crayon clutched in one hand and a juice box in the other. Your hair a mess from the day, a blanket half-draped over both of you. And him in the doorway. Holding a book in his hand that he’d forgotten to read, too caught up in the simple, breathtaking fact that this was his life. That somehow, impossibly, he’d made it here.

His throat tightened.

The thought came quietly, like breath fogging glass:

He wanted this.

He wanted you. A child. A family. Not someday, not maybe. Just–yes. He wanted tiny shoes in the hallway. A swing set in a yard. A sleepy voice calling him Dad. He wanted your laughter in a kitchen filled with baby wipes and half-assembled toys. He wanted something that was his and yours and no one else’s.

But right on the heels of that beautiful, terrifying longing came something cold and heavy.

Fear.

He swallowed, hard.

His father’s voice echoed somewhere in the dark part of his memory–low, sharp, filled with the kind of disgust that was harder to forget than fists. He could still hear the way the floor creaked before a bad night. The sting of being told he was nothing. How love only showed up with bruises attached.

Bob’s stomach twisted.

What if I turn into him? He thought.

He didn’t think he would. He knew–rationally–that he wasn’t the same. He didn’t drink. He didn’t shout. He couldn’t even raise his voice without wincing at the echo. He loved gently. He loved softly. But fear didn’t care about facts. It sunk into his lungs anyway.

What if something in him broke? What if the Void came back and he couldn’t stop it? What if one day he opened his eyes and the sky was black again, and the only thing he’d ever loved was looking up at him, afraid?

He could never live with that.

Never.

And yet–

You turned slightly, and caught Bob’s eyes across the grass. You smiled at him–something so simple, so safe–and in that moment, the fear didn’t disappear, but it softened.

Because you weren’t afraid of him.

You’d never been.

Even on the days he didn’t like himself, you liked him. Even when he flinched at his own reflection, you reached for his hand and rested your chin on his shoulder. You didn’t see The Void. You didn’t see the Sentry. You just saw Bob–the man who carried your snacks in his hoodie pocket just in case you got hungry when you went out, who still got bashful when you looked at him for too long, who curled into you at night like you were the only thing that had ever made sense in his life.

Bob’s hand gripped the edge of the canopy pole beside him, just to ground himself.

He wanted to go to you right then and there just to say it. To whisper something clumsy like, “I want to build a life with you. A whole one. With glue-stained paper crowns and messy bedrooms and bedtime songs.”

But he stayed still.

Too scared to break the moment.

Too scared it might not be his to want.

—————————

Later, when the event was winding down, and the sky had shifted to gold and mauve and soft watercolor blues, Bob found you sitting on the grass alone near the now-abandoned craft table, peeling dried glue off your fingers and watching a few leftover kids chase bubbles across the park. He moved towards you slowly, and his looming presence immediately got your attention.

You stopped picking at the glue on your fingers and looked up at him instantly.

”Well, hey stranger.” Bob gave a quiet huff of a laugh at the greeting and smiled down at you, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets, “You gonna sit down or are you going to just stand there and stare?” You joked, patting the patch of open grass beside you. He hesitated for a second before lowering himself beside you, knees folding awkwardly in the grass. You watched him for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek–light, and lingering, your lips warm against the wind-chilled skin just below his eye.

“I haven’t been able to do that all day,” You said softly, almost teasing, but the affection behind it was unmistakable.

Before Bob could even respond, you leaned in and pressed another kiss to the corner of his jaw, then to his temple, and then one right between his brows where they had scrunched up, each kiss softer and slower than the last.

By the time you pulled back, Bob’s cheeks were as red as a rose, and they had become warm, and his smile had curled wide and helpless across his face, because to him your affections were always welcome.

”Y-You’re gonna make me explode,” He mumbled, voice thick with love as he turned to hide his burning face against the shoulder of his hoodie, “This is h-how I die.” He stumbled, looking over at you with those big blue eyes you couldn’t help but stare into every night.

“Death by affection sounds like a dream to me.” You laughed, slipping your hand up to cup his cheek, to turn his face towards yours so he was looking at you directly.

“Y-You know I’m a fragile m-man.” You snorted at his comment.

”I know Sentry is dormant but you’re technically the strongest person on Earth.” You said, giving him a knowing look. “I don’t think you’re fragile.” Bob gave a breathy little laugh, his pupils blown out from how close you were.

”Y-Yeah, well…D-Don’t flatter me too much…You’ll make me f-fall in love with you or s-something.” You raised your brows at him, seeing his cheeks go an even deeper red, “I-I mean–more. Like…More in love with you.” You smiled, so warmly it made his breath catch in his throat, you could hear it.

”Almost a year in,” You whispered, brushing your nose gently against his, “And you still get all flustered with me…I love it.”

And you kissed him–gently, fully, your mouth warm and sure on his. Bob melted. His whole body slackened like your kiss had pulled all the tension right out of him. He groaned quietly and let himself fall back into the grass with a helpless thump, hoodie riding up slightly at the hem, his eyes fluttering closed like he was physically overwhelmed. You laughed lightly and laid down beside him, turning your head so you were looking at him and all his glory, feeling his hand find yours, lacing his fingers between yours instantly.

The sky above you was dimming into deeper blues now, streaked with soft brushstrokes of pink and violet. The hum of the event had finally died out completely. You could still hear the occasional giggle of a child somewhere off in the distance, but for the most part, it felt like you two were the last ones left in the park. Like the whole day had been waiting to exhale.

Bob stared up at the clouds for a moment, before letting out a small sigh.

”C-Can I ask you something…Kind of b-big?” Your eyes studied him for a moment, tracing the way his brows furrowed gently, like he was already halfway to apologizing for whatever he was about to say. Like he was bracing himself to ruin something just by saying it.

“Of course,” You replied, your voice just above a whisper, slowly growing more and more concerned with each moment that passed in silence.

Bob just kept looking up at the sky like the words were written somewhere in the clouds and he just had to find them. His thumb rubbed slow circles against your knuckles.

”Have you ever thought about…Us?” He swallowed, “I mean–not just us, b-but more like…A family.” You raised your eyebrows slowly, turning onto your side so you could face him fully, still holding his hand, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I–I watched you today,” He whispered. “With that little girl in your lap. And it didn’t feel far away…It didn’t feel like someone else’s life. It felt like something I could…Want.”

Your heart gave a soft, aching pull at that.

“I want it,” He admitted, voice trembling. “I want it so bad it scares me. You, a kid–us. A home. Not perfect. Not polished. Just ours. Something warm. Something safe.”

You reached up and gently tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, your fingertips trailing along his temple. He leaned into the touch like it soothed something he couldn’t name.

“I want that too,” You said. “Not tomorrow. Not next week. But one day. When things are a little quieter, when the world doesn’t need us to carry it. I want that with you, Bob.” He nodded, like he was trying to let the hope settle in–but his eyes were still stormy at the edges.

“But what if…” He swallowed. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I…Mess it up l–like I always do? What if I hurt them? What if something in me snaps and I—”

“Hey,” You cut in gently, reaching up to cradle his cheek. “Look at me.”

He did, reluctantly, his blue eyes wide and full of unshed fear, tears filling up in the corners threatening to spill at any moment.

“You’re not like your father at all Bob, you’re not him.” You said, your voice steady and firm.

”Y-You don’t know that,” He whispered, his eyes glancing away at you, making you chase his gaze a bit so he could look at you.

”I do know that…Because I know you. Because I’ve watched you fall asleep holding my hand. Because you carry two different granola bar options in your hoodie pocket in case I want a choice. Because you always refill the toothpaste without me asking. Because when I’m upset, you don’t try to fix it–you just stay with me. Quietly. Constantly.” Bob blinked, his lip trembling ever so slightly.

“You don’t lash out, Bob. You lean in,” You said. “You don’t shut down. You open up, even when it scares you. You feel everything so deeply, and you never make anyone pay for it.” His brow furrowed and he looked down, overwhelmed, like he didn’t know what to do with the weight of that truth.

You brought his hand up to your lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then whispered into the space between you:

“You already take care of me in a thousand tiny ways. You love gently. That’s why I trust you with my soul.”

He let out a shaky breath, and the hand that held yours tightened just a little more. He nodded faintly, like he was still catching up to the truth you’d handed him–like he wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but he was holding it anyway.

You reached up, your thumb brushing delicately at the corners of his eyes, wiping away the tears that had gathered without pressure or embarrassment. Just care.

“You cry so pretty, you know that?” You whispered, a little playful, attempting to lift the mood just a bit.

Bob let out a short, breathy laugh–surprised and soft. “Th-That’s not a real thing.”

“It is when you do it,” You smiled, leaning closer, your voice light but laced with everything you meant. “You’re beautiful when you feel things.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him a future and told him it already belonged to him. Like no one had ever said that to him before–and he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from it.

You leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure, lips pressed to his like you had time. Like you weren’t afraid to show him just how loved he was.

And when you pulled back, your forehead stayed pressed against his, your breath brushing his lips as you whispered:

“You’d be the safest place a little soul could ever grow.”

Bob let out another shaky breath, and this time he smiled–full, unguarded, like something inside him had just settled for the first time.

“Only if it’s with you,” He said quietly.

You nodded, your fingers lacing tighter with his.

“Then we’ll build it,” You whispered. “Slow and messy and ours.”

And beneath a darkening sky painted with stars and leftover laughter, you lay together in the grass, your future unfolding between your palms like something sacred.

Just warm.

Just real.

Just home.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[lavenderspence]

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under your roof ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ your baby daughter really likes uncle wade’s roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didn’t form a quick attachment to the two of you as well┊2.9k words; prt one (here), prt two, prt three coming soon!!

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, he’s on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & he’s an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing

➤ author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy

kids don’t like logan. it’s not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. he’s intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though he’s literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isn’t sure, but it’s not the best feeling either way when he’s trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that he’ll never fit in.

it doesn’t help that, in general, he isn’t good with kids either. he’s generally patient with their immaturity since they don’t know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.

moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to “turn that frown upside down” because he was about to meet someone who “puts gordon ramsey to shame.”

the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than he’s ever put into meeting anyone else before.

wade didn’t even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass “daddy’s home!” which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, “do you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?”

“no, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!” your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. “i’ll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.”

“okie-dokie!” he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, “come on, peanut, take off your shoes.” the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps he’s taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).

the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didn’t even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.

“hey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?” he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “do you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!” he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didn’t bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. “okay, you keep her company while i go see what’s for dessert— bye!”

before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom he’s heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.

but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move. 

and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.

“oh no—“ he’s not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldn’t listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didn’t listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.

she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.

“kitty!”

“what?”

she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.

“no— not a kitty!” he’s never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say “kitty” every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.

“no kitty?”

“no— logan, lo-gan.”

she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlier— finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.

he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didn’t want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.

“you’re like a little lemur,” he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasn’t freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldn’t admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldn’t stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by spring’s first touch. 

all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting “that fire” was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.

he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasn’t really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything else.)

“so… any news about her dad?” the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything he’d ever witnessed in his long life.

“... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guess…”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. “like he wants to have a family… just not with the one he already started… he’s busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.”

“oh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!”

“i can’t believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i don’t even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like this— i asked him so many times and he just said that he’s ‘fallen out of love,’ has ‘moved on,’ and that i would ‘be cruel’ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our child…”

“well if it’s any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with him— i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldn’t adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! ”

“it’s fine,” you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. “it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, i’ll take care of her myself— wait… didn’t i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?”

“no, he’s in the living room, he’s been here this entire time,” he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.

“and you didn’t tell me?!!!” you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. “hi! oh, i’m so sorry i didn’t come to greet you properly— and left my daughter for you to look after too— god, i’m just a terrible host!” you tilted your head, “what’s your name?”

he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. “i-i’m logan,” he managed to sputter, “nice to meet you..”

wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face. 

“aww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old man— come to mommy, it’s dinnertime,” you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. “oh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter… logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?”

“yes, of course.”

you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didn’t need to be a telepath to know. 

“if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“good, keep it that way.”

love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. it’s even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses up— just you as yourself to the core.

“alright, bub, let's get you seated…” it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon he’s ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude. 

“sorry it isn’t anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first place….”

“oh, no, it’s perfect—”

“you’re damn right ‘it’s perfect!’” wade interjected, “lemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well you’ve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!”

“well, now that you say it like that, he’s going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish he’s ever had.”

“he likes ass, don’t worry—”

the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. “it’s delicious, thank you, truly the best i’ve ever tasted.”

“aw, you don’t have to say that.”

“no, he’s right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!”

the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something he’s been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he can’t help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderful— something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.

“well, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. there’s some wine and beer in—” you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. “alrighty then, i’ll join you two in a bit.”

he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girls’ sleepover. “okay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesn’t like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning supplies—”

“she wouldn’t want an asshole like me,” he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. “not when she just got free from another one.”

“peanut, i met the other guy, you’re infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that i’m your wingman, okay? don’t lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does too—”

“no, she doesn’t.”

“quit cutting me off, you motherfucker!”

it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didn’t want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldn’t be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently. 

and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday. 

maybe he won’t let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.

[favefandomimagines]

Moments In Between (f.l)

Summary: the moments in between after a night shift and a day shift.

Request: @craftyphantompotato If you are still accepting request for Frank Langdon, maybe one where the reader returns from a night shift covering for another doctor and she and Frank are cuddled in bed for a bit before Frank has to leave for his day and the kids get up

AN: we need some 100% fluff for Frank because all i know is how to write angst

Dr. Frank Langdon’s alarm buzzed softly on the nightstand, a quiet interruption to the calm before sunrise. But the warmth curled around his side kept him from moving.

Y/N had come home not long ago, just as the first hints of dawn pushed against the navy sky. Her overnight ER shift, covering for Dr. Abbott, had drained her—but it never stopped her from coming home to him.

Her scrubs were traded for his oversized T-shirt, and she slid into bed with a sleepy sigh, curling into the crook of Frank’s side like it was her natural place in the world.

He smiled sleepily, not opening his eyes just yet. Her hand rested on his chest, fingers splayed gently over the steady beat of his heart. He wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her just a bit closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re freezing,” he mumbled, voice rough from sleep.

Y/N laughed lightly, her nose brushing his collarbone. “The ER was like a meat locker. Either that or I’m just too tired to feel warm.”

Frank let out a quiet chuckle, fingers tracing slow circles on her spine. "Remind me to sneak another jacket in your locker."

“Mmm… You’re better than a jacket.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a few beats, the kind of silence that speaks more than words. She pressed her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowed again, pulling her with it.

"How was it?" he asked finally.

Y/N sighed. "Busy. A couple of trauma cases. A kid with a fractured femur. Two psych admits. We ran out of beds by 3 a.m. But no fatalities, thank God."

Frank’s hand moved gently through her hair. “I’m proud of you. Always.”

She shifted just enough to kiss his chest. “You say that like I don’t already know.”

“Still worth saying.”

Her hand slowly trailed up to his jaw. She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Frank responded instinctively, deepening it just slightly before pulling back to rest his forehead against hers.

“I wish I didn’t have to go in today,” he whispered.

“I know. But I’ll be here when you get back.”

Frank took a breath, as if to memorize this exact moment—her in his arms, the softness of her hair against his skin, the low hum of life beginning in the world outside their window.

A faint creak down the hallway broke the stillness. Y/N turned her head, her eyes meeting Frank’s with a knowing glint.

“Do you think—?”

A little voice came from the hallway. “Daddy?”

Frank smiled. “Yup.”

He sat up gently, brushing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. Their four-year-old son, Tanner, stood at the door in his dinosaur pajamas, hair standing in a wild puff around his head, holding his stuffed bear under one arm.

“Hey, bud,” Frank said, reaching out. “Come here.”

Tanner scrambled up onto the bed with the eagerness only a toddler could have, squishing himself between his parents.

“Morning, Mommy,” he said sleepily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Y/N whispered, kissing his forehead.

“I dreamed we were all in space,” he said matter-of-factly, climbing over Frank’s leg to get closer to her. “You were flying the rocket ship.”

Frank laughed. “Of course she was.”

“I made breakfast for the aliens.”

Y/N gasped softly. “What did you make?”

“Peanut butter pancakes. But with glitter.”

“That sounds delicious, bud.”

A soft cry came from the baby monitor on the nightstand. Frank reached over and clicked it off, already rising from bed.

“I’ll get her,” he said.

Y/N caught his hand before he left, squeezing it. “Thanks. Love you.”

He bent down and kissed her gently. “Love you more.”

Frank padded down the hall and returned a few minutes later with their two-year-old daughter, Maisie, rubbing her eyes and clutching a soft blanket to her chest.

“Look who’s up,” he said, setting her gently on the bed.

Maisie immediately curled up beside Y/N, who scooped her up into a warm embrace.

“Hi, baby girl,” Y/N cooed, brushing the toddler’s hair back. “Did you have sweet dreams?”

Maisie nodded solemnly, laying her head against her mother’s chest.

Tanner poked his sister’s foot. “We were in space, Maisie. You were a space kitten.”

She blinked at him and smiled sleepily.

Frank leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching the three of them. The soft morning light painted the room in gold. There were a million things to do, patients to see, rounds to make—but right now, none of that mattered.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still filled with a quiet kind of joy. “Go get dressed,” she said softly. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

Frank nodded, reluctant to break the moment. He walked over, kissed each of them again—Tanner on the forehead, Maisie on the cheek, and Y/N on the lips.

“I love our little morning in-between,” he said.

She smiled. “Me too.”

Frank’s day at the hospital was predictably hectic. Rounds were nonstop, and the ER was flooded with cases ranging from a fractured clavicle to a construction worker with a rebar injury. But he kept one hand in his pocket all day, fingers brushing the soft corner of the family photo Y/N had slipped in there on their last anniversary.

He checked in with her on break: a voice message that made him grin as she recounted how Tanner had tried to use peanut butter as glue to build a “space rocket” in the kitchen, and Maisie had insisted on wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.

When his shift ended, the sun had long dipped behind the buildings, and the sky was painted in indigo and rose. He stopped to grab takeout from their favorite Thai place and headed home.

Y/N was on the couch, Maisie asleep on her chest, Tanner curled up next to her with a picture book about astronauts. She looked up with a tired but radiant smile.

“Perfect timing,” she whispered.

Frank leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her forehead. “I brought pad thai.”

“Marry me,” she murmured.

“Already did.”

He set the food on the counter, scooped up Tanner with expert Dad reflexes, and brought him to bed. Then he returned for Maisie, carefully replacing her blanket after laying her down.

Y/N joined him in the kitchen, her hair pulled up messily, dark circles under her eyes, but to Frank she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

They ate in companionable silence, only the hum of the fridge and distant city noise filling the space.

“You still want to watch that docuseries about Everest?” he asked after they’d cleaned up.

“Only if I can fall asleep halfway through.”

Frank held out his hand. “Deal.”

They settled on the couch again, her head on his chest, legs tangled beneath a shared blanket. The documentary played, but neither made it past the first twenty minutes.

The world continued around them—beepers buzzing, city lights blinking—but in their little apartment, wrapped in warmth and each other, time softened. They had each other, their babies, and these small, precious pockets of peace between the chaos.

And sometimes, that was everything.

[mywritersmind]

WHO? - LN4

summary : In which your indecisiveness earns you a taste of someone else’s gelato, and a date. 

listen up : no warnings!

words : 815

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I didn’t mean to stare. I mean- I wasn’t even staring at him! I was looking more at the treat he has in his hand and clearly didn’t realize the man holding the gelato was definitely worth staring at.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deep, british. My friend, who I now realize has been staring at him, is elbowing me repeatedly.

“No! Sorry!” I’m quick to apologize, “That looked really weird, didn’t it?”

He nods slowly, the guys next to him laugh a bit but the handsome man eyes them and gives me a sorry look. “Maybe a bit.”

“You’re Lando Norris.” My friend cuts in as I raise a brow. Who?

“Yeah…” He seems more uncomfortable now, one hand slipping into his jean pocket.

“Who?” I really need to get a hold of my actions tonight because my friend jabs me in my side.

Lando laughs as my friend shakes her head, “I’m gonna go order.” Her boyfriend is already ahead but I've been waiting because I can’t figure out what to get.

I glance at Lando’s ice cream once again and bite my lip, still thinking. “So you weren’t staring at me because i’m incredibly attractive…”

I laugh out loud, covering my mouth quickly, “No! I can’t decide if I want peanut butter or chocolate because they don’t do testers and unfortunately I'm very indecisive.”

“Damn… wish I had gelato as an excuse for checking you out.” Now that surprises me. I hum and try to hold back my smile. I turn back to the shop worker who’s still taking my friends order, trying to not give a random man the satisfaction of knowing he made me blush.

When I don’t say anything else, he steps in front of me, leaning against the glass and tilting his cone to me, “Wanna try mine?”

He smiles, shit how do I not know him? He is incredibly attractive. I think he’s just playing at first but he nods, making me realize he actually wants me to.

I start shaking my head and just as I’m about to politely decline, he says, “You gonna reject me already?”

I raise a brow and step closer, my eyes locked in his as I close my lips onto the dessert and lick it off. I hum, pulling away from the ice cream but not stepping back.

“Thoughts?” His voice is quieter now.

I think for a moment, then I order chocolate.

He watches me the whole time I order, I feel his eyes on me when I get up to the register, and suddenly I feel him next to me when I'm holding out my cash.

“I got it.” Before I can say anything, he taps his card and the little ‘beep’ from the machine tells me it went through.

“Hey!” I turn to him as he takes my gelato from the woman and walks away, “Hello!?”

When he turns back at me, he’s smiling and holding out my cup of chocolate. I go to grab it from him but he holds it up high so I can’t reach it. I’m practically pressed up against him as I try to grab my dessert, all while he’s grinning down at me like the fucking cheshire cat.

“Norris.”

“Now you say my name!” He chuckles, “What's yours?”

I frown, “Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Lando.”

“Give me my ice cream, Lando.” I jump up again.

“Go out with me.”

“What?” I actually laugh out loud.

“Go out with me and I'll give you your gelato.”

“You can’t just buy my gelato and then hold it hostage! I- I don’t even know you!” He shrugs at this, “My friend does though… how does she know you?”

“Unimportant.” He shakes his head, “What is important is that you say yes.”

I shake my head, “I’m in italy for like two more days-”

“You free tomorrow night?” He’s smiling still. Fuck he’s got a good smile.

He raises a brow, clearly looking for an answer. I sigh as if this is the biggest setback in my non-existent plans ever, “Fine. I guess I could.”

He hands me the cup immediately, “Good.” He grabs his tiny napkin from his ice cream cone and a pen from his pocket, writing something down on it quickly.

“Do you always carry a pen with you like that?” He smiles up at me.

“Comes in handy.”

He stands up straight and hands me the napkin, “Call me tomorrow.”

I raise a brow, “How do you know I will?”

“I don’t.”

This guy is incredibly odd and it’s crazy enticing. I take the napkin and slide it into my pocket, finally able to try my gelato now.

“Did you make the right choice?” He watches me slide the spoon out of my mouth like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

I nod, “Definitely.”

[monolotus]

°˖✧◝ (𝙠𝙚𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮) ◜✧˖°

includes: wonwoo fighting, mentions of reader having a period, ramyeon

[05:54 a.m]

wonu👾: having breakfast with mingyu! long day ahead 😢

[07:32 a.m]

wonu👾: good morning sleepy head!

[08:06 a.m]

wonu👾: let me know when you wake up!

[11:00 a.m]

wonu👾: just catching up! about to enter the studio, talk to you in a bit💗

[15:53 p.m]

wonu👾: it’s almost four, there’s no way you are still sleeping

[missing call]

[missing call 2]

[15:57 p.m]

wonu👾: are you mad?

wonu👾: if you are mad, at least let me know you are okay.

[16:37 p.m]

wonu👾: i don’t remember you having anything in your calendar, are you at the library? a caffe?

[17:25 p.m]

wonu👾: about to enter practice!

wonu👾: if i’m done and you haven’t replied yet, i’ll be going to your apartment

[19:57 p.m]

wonu👾: babe?

[missing call]

[19:59 p.m]

wonu👾: got left off early, im coming

Wonwoo had been busy all day, their manager bickering whenever he would get a break to text you during work. He couldn’t help it though, it was so rare of you to not reply to his texts. Not only that, but he had to re-write his entire verse in the next title track, as the co-producers said “it didn’t fit the flow”. So, on top of all his work, he hadn’t gotten a single message from you since last night.

He hadn’t seen you active on social media either, this only making him worry more.

As he got closer to the door of your apartment, he could feel his heart almost escaping from his chest as he saw the door unlocked. Why was your door unlocked? Were you with somebody? Had somebody break in?

Filled with questions, he quickly got into your apartment, starting to call out your name.

Going to the kitchen, he grabbed one of the largest knifes he could find, while holding his phone in the other. Ready to call for help if needed. Slowly, he started going to each room- the bathroom, the laundry room, even the little balcony you had.

The door to your room was slightly open, and he could only think the worse. Cracking it open, he saw your figure hugging a foxdungee. With a confused expression on his face, he let the knife in one of the shelves, before reaching for you, only for you to jump once you realized he was there.

“Wonwoo! You could’ve killed me!” You yelled, clutching at your shirt, catching your breath.

“I mean, yeah, you know why? You let the door open! Anybody could’ve break in! How could you forget to lock the door? Is something so dumb! You couldn’t even do that?” He was being harsh on you, but his own heart was beating like crazy- you hadn’t answered any of his texts or calls in the whole day, and you were just in your bed the entire day? He was exhausted after taking criticism and what nots from his members and staff the whole day.

“Well, good thing the building has security! Don’t yell at me, it was a silly mistake!” You pouted, your head had been pounding the entire day, your lower stomach felt hard with each cramp, and you had just woken up, your body too tired and numb to allow you to do something besides sleeping in.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. You should know better than to disappear the whole day and leave your door open to whoever wants to break in, right?” With that being said, he got out of the room, closing the door maybe a little too hard for his own liking.

With a sigh, he took off his shoes (too worried to see you to take them off before entering your home) and took back the knife to grab three packs of the ramyeon you always kept on hand, he started boiling the water.

He took a glance at your apartment, the sofa having one too many blankets, a pack of oreo out of the fridge and the bottle of peanut butter took his attention, a combination you only ate on a specific situation… Checking the calendar on his phone, he let a new sigh. You were pretty regular with your period, also this being one of the few things that can make you feel under the weather so easily.

He started cleaning the little mess you had on your house, waiting until the ramyeon would be ready.

Once he had set the table, he went back to your room. Knocking softly, he entered the space once again.

“Baby, i’m so sorry.” He murmured, seeing you covering even more of your body with the tick cover, “I thought you were just being childish, I didn’t know what date was.”

“Whatever you say, Wonwoo” you whispered, feeling his weight beside you, and his hand caressing your back.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered, pulling the blanket off you just enough to start kissing the little exposed skin of your face. “I should’ve asked if you were okay before overreacting like that. I was just stressed from practice.”

“Then fight with Hoshi and Jihoon, not with your beautiful but cramped girlfriend.” As you let off the blanket, you decided that receiving kisses from your boyfriend was more important that being petty.

Taking the hint, Wonwoo laid with you, starting to bombard your face with kisses. Hugging you tightly, suddenly the days stress started to disappear and the shame of yelling at you started to replace it.

“I’m sorry, jagiya” he murmured against your neck, “But I was worried, you hadn’t replied to a single text of mine”

“Because I was sleeping, Wonu. When have I not talk to you, even when mad?” you replied, with a heavy sigh. “Let’s eat, I can smell the ramyeon from here”

Later at night, when you were wrapped to your boyfriend’s torso while trying to fall asleep, you could only hide the smile that came with your boyfriend becoming so needy for you to accept his apologies. Obviously, a lot of kisses was the perfect payment.

˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹-˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹-

more / ask & request are open!

[dollfacefantasy]

wait idk if you write for wade but ermm bf!logan fucking reader n letting wade watch ?!!?!?!? he wants to show wade that you’re his!!!

you got it <3 i have never written for wade before but i’m gonna try my best for you 🙏

logan howlett x fem!reader ft. wade wilson cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation

"You enjoying yourself over there?" Logan grunts from where his jaw rests against your temple.

"How could I not be? You're putting on a great show," Wade replies without missing a beat.

As usual, his answer is laced with mockery. He sits leaned back against the cushion of the sagging chair in the corner. His eyes watch you and your boyfriend with amusement, but the hint of desire gleams over his irises as well.

You're perched in Logan's lap on the bed. You've been here for a while. Your back rests flush against the warmth of his chest. His large palms cup and grope at your breasts, skilled fingers tweaking your nipples below your ribbed shirt. This started as a moment between the two of you, but opened up to include his roommate as the third party a few minutes ago.

"I would've thought you'd already be jerking off, you sick fuck," Logan taunts.

The words roll off Wade's shoulders like water, which is fine because there was no true animosity behind the term of endearment. You understood by now that is just how they communicate. 

"Well I don't know how you remember it, peanut, but you invited me to watch."

"Only cause you practically invited yourself in."

"Please with the way you left the door open, you all but asked for a ménage à trois."

The roll of your boyfriend's eyes is nearly audible to you, but you can actually feel his lips curling up into a smirk against your cheek. His fingertips give your stiffened buds a nice twirl, coaxing a soft whimper out of you. That only heightens how smug he is.

"What d'you think, baby? Is this what you wanted?" he breathes.

All he gets from you with that question is a small whine because, in truth, you didn't intend for this to happen, but you weren't unhappy that it was now. Originally, when you came over to visit your boyfriend, you didn't think his roommate was home. That assumption had been proven wrong by the sound of a low whistle only minutes later, coming from the open doorway Wade was watching through.

It's the same whistle he makes now.

"I always thought you were the type to make cute noises like that," Wade smirks.

"Did you now? You think about her a lot?" Logan says.

"Here and there."

You hear a breathy chuckle behind you, but you're too caught up with the feeling of hands on your chest. They cup and massage, caress and tease. It's bliss, but it's been going on for so long it feels closer to torture. You could feel your panties growing uncomfortably damp; though all you do is tilt your head back against his shoulder. Logan had never let you down. You just needed to be patient.

Wade wasn't content to just watch from the sidelines though, so he pipes up again.

"It's not my fault she struts around in those outfits of hers. Skirts so small they look like they were made for dolls," he quips.

"Her clothes look best when they're on the floor," your boyfriend adds.

To go along with his statement. His hands leave your breasts and tug your shirt over your head, tossing it into the other man's lap. The bright, thin fabric makes the semi-hard tent in his pants more noticeable. You bite your lip as he palms himself over the material.

Your nipples had long been visible through that tiny shirt, but now they were just in plain sight. Wade's eyes had locked onto the hardened nubs. Logan's fingers still fondled them, pulling on them until you whined.

Soon enough, you're arching your back, which unintentionally boosts your hips from his lap. He takes the advantage to pull your skirt from your legs and discard the garment on the floor.

"I think you were right, peanut. She does look much better like this," Wade says, "Maybe we should have a new dress code around the apartment."

"In your dreams. Enjoy this while you can," Logan shoots back.

Your breaths grow labored. You feel the bulge pressed against your ass growing as your hips swivel and rub your plush flesh on the familiar cock.

"She's got pretty tits, doesn't she?"

For once, Wade doesn't have a quick comeback. Instead, he just nods. 

"Spread your legs, bub. Let him see how cute that little pussy is too," Logan rumbles in your ear.

Your thighs spread on instinct as if each syllable was pulling on some puppet strings. Now on display are the simple panties you were wearing and the wet patch that had formed between your thighs. You feel it only growing worse as Wade's eyes snap down to it and stay there.

On the other side of you, one of Logan's arms constricts around your chest while the other dips and slots a hand between your thighs. He cups the heat of your center before his fingers apply ample pressure.

You mewl, body rolling with the new waves of pleasure coursing through your limbs. Logan chuckles at your responsiveness. He nips at your earlobe before more words come out against your skin.

"You showing off? You're moving a lot."

"I-I'm not. Just feels good," you whimper in defense of yourself.

At the reminder of the other man, you cast your gaze over to him. The heel of his palm is still smoothing over his erection, giving himself dull stimulation similar to the kind Logan's providing you with.

"You know what'd make it feel even better?" he asks, the question obviously leading to the answer 'me.'

Before you can muster any kind of response, Logan's hands meet in the middle of your body around the curves of your waist. He picks you up and spins you around, pinning you on your back against the mattress. His larger frame cages you in on the foamy surface.

He tilts his head up to grin at Wade. "Your invitation was to watch. Don't remember asking for your commentary."

"You didn't have to. It's a package deal," he says back.

Logan shakes his head before latching his mouth onto your neck. His teeth scrape at your tender flesh while his tongue simultaneously flicks at your pulse. He teases just the right amount to keep your movements chasing him for more.

Your body squirms beneath the heat of him. He keeps you in place though. His hands sweep down from your shoulders. They stop on your tits to give some more attention to the soft mounds. Then, they continue their descent and coast over your hips, cupping the swell of your ass. It feels like they're so many places at once that for a brief second you wonder if Wade had actually joined in.

You angle your head back and find the other man still parked in his seat, proving your theory wrong. He smiles at you. You see it upside down because of your position. It's the last thing your vision catches before your eyes flutter closed.

Logan pushes you down hard on the mattress before then pulling you up a bit to tear your panties off. Once they're gone, he pulls back onto his knees so he can shove his pants down to mid thigh and get his cock out.

The huge appendage stands proudly before both you and Wade. He wraps his fingers around it and pumps, giving no facial reaction despite the fact that his slit begins oozing precum. You feel like you're gonna start drooling just from watching the rhythmic, repetitive motion that he uses to pleasure himself.

"You like what you see?" he teases.

You start to nod, but Wade chimes in. "Fuck off. Do you even have to ask?"

That brings a giggle from your lips. You look at him over your shoulder, smile on your lips inherently flirty from how turned on you are right now.

"It's nice, isn't it?" you ask.

He does respond, but Logan's voice overpowers him in your ears. "Ah ah. All your attention on me."

He tugs you closer by your thighs, bringing you flush against him. You can feel the way his cock pulses where it rests on top of your cunt. It lies there like a form of foreshadowing. A visual of how he'll be fitting inside you a few moments from now.

"If you're talking to someone else, that means I'm not doing my job right."

With that, his hips slip backward and then slide forward again, pushing his shaft inside the tight, warm, embrace of your cunt. You keen as that familiar feeling of fullness washes over you. Your limbs start to squirm, but he pins your biceps down with his forearms and your legs are trapped from the position he has you in. There's no other option besides lying there and taking it.

He lets out a deep sigh too. You were already spasming around him. Your walls convulse rapidly as they work to accommodate the thick intrusion.

"Still feeling good?" he grunts.

He feels himself all the way bottomed out and rests there for a brief moment. Just as you're about to answer, he drags out and then snaps back in. Your response shatters into a whiny moan. The rest of your words come out garbled as a result, so you just nod instead.

"Yeah? You think you need anything else to make it better?" he asks.

That one gets a rapid head shake in response.

Chuckling at the stark difference, he looks up at Wade in the corner as he starts to thrust at a more measured pace. His intention had been to taunt the merc, but he sees him even more reclined than before, hand stroking his cock up and down. It increases the heat in Logan's belly and gets him slamming into you harder.

"Fuckkkkk," you whine. One of Logan's hands comes up to rest on your throat for better leverage to thrash you against the mattress with.

"You're so tight for me, baby," he groans, "You like this? You like being watched?"

"Mhm, yeah," you answer, words sputtering from your lips like a broken sprinkler.

A sound somewhere between a hum and growl comes from Logan. He leans down impossibly closer, his hips not stopping once.

"You like me showing you off? Showing someone else how well you take me?"

In response, he gets another lazy, blissed-out nod from you.

Despite your head feeling all foggy, your grip on his shoulders stays firm. Your nails dig into the skin, a small way to keep you grounded when you feel like everything around you is just fading into the background.

"Tell me who's making you feel this good," you hear him grunt in your ear.

"You."

The word comes out breathy and moaned. Too quiet for his liking.

"Who? Say my name."

"You, Logan," you whine before a chorus of whimpers bursts from you.

His cock was angled to ram into your favorite spot. It pistons against it over and over. Your legs shake violently, and all you can even think to do is keep calling out his name.

"You hear that?" he asks Wade.

"I think the version of you who died could hear it," the other man smirks.

Your boyfriend huffs out a laugh against your shoulder and keeps fucking into you. The bed creaks almost loud enough to challenge the noise you're making.

Wade keeps dragging his fist over his length. His pace resembles the one Logan's using for you. He squeezes and swipes his thumb over his tip. ghosts his fingers over the sensitive underside. He could tell you were getting close, and he intended to finish along with the two of you.

"Almost there for me, bub?" Logan asks.

"Yeah, yeah. Just need you. Don't stop," you whimper.

"Not going to," he breathes, "Not until there's no question you're mine."

You knew what that meant. There would be no question when he came and had his cum leaking out of your pussy. That's the goal he's working toward, the finish line he's hurtling to.

His hips clap against your center, filling you completely. You rock against the blankets with his momentum. The feeling of euphoria plumes inside you, luring you closer to your release.

"C'mon, no need to be shy. Cum for me. Show him how good I make you feel," he purrs.

Those words are the final strike you need to go crashing over the edge. You choke out a moan, and your body goes lax beneath him. You melt into a twitching puddle of shudders and whines, babbling about how perfect he feels inside you.

Your performance elicits a groan from Wade in the corner. You can't see, but you have strong suspicion it was the finale for him too. You imagine the way his hips buck into his hand and his head tilts back in pleasure. A pristine stream of pearlescent white bursting from him. It drives another wave of ecstasy over you.

Logan cums last. His hands fly to dig into the spaces beside your head; he avoids gripping your arms while he cums to prevent shattering your bones. The light duvet scrunches up with his fists. His eyes close too. A sharp puff of air leaves his mouth before his hips hammer into you deep and spill his load.

His balls smack against your ass, a final resounding sound signifying the end of his thrusts. He looks like a god when he cums, bulky, glistening chest on full display. His v-line and pubes slick with your arousal. Face set into an expression of pure satisfaction.

He fucks you full just like you need. Your eyes droop with the contentment it brings over you.

You're not sure how long you're in that dreamy daze for. You barely register Logan pulling out or climbing off of you. You only regain some sense of your surroundings when you hear mocking applause from behind you.

"Bravo you two. Color me impressed," he says before whistling, "If you guys put that on the internet, you could make something with that. Bring the whole celebrity sex tape thing back."

You hang your head back to look at Wade. "Yeah, but we're not really celebrities," you smile.

"And we're not doing a sex tape," Logan says from the other side of you.

Your head whips around to face him, and you laugh at the serious expression on his face. The sweet sound of your laughter lightens it up a bit. He reaches out to give your cheek a gentle stroke.

"It's just a suggestion. And with a name like the X-men, there's no limit on possible porn titles," Wade concludes, receiving more laughter from you and a groan from Logan.

[touyaismycomfortboy]

♡ mr. aizawa's wife....

a/n: i'll probably most definitely write about husband aizawa with a wife who has a quirk, but for now here are some quirkless wife hcs <3 this is lowkey all over the place, all I've been thinking about is husband aizawa and what that would be like so i need to dump out all my thoughts and then I'll write smth more organized eventually

word count: 0.7k

synopsis: what it would be like to be aizawa's wife <3

pairing: shouta aizawa x fem!quirkless!reader

genre: headcanons? dump? i honestly dont know!! i'm just writing stuff fr <33

you're not a pro-hero so you don't work at UA, but you're still there all the time. the heroes truly love you, you oftentimes get bored after your own job and bring the faculty fresh baked goods, typically leaving a big tray in the teachers' lounge but delivering aizawa's to him since he's always so busy with class.

the first time you met his new first years they were doing some training outside, you had just come by the school with a tray of peanut butter chocolate cookies and were about to deliver some to aizawa and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading home.

when the girls of the class saw you walk up to aizawa out of the corner of their eyes and give him a kiss they gasped and stopped whatever they were doing.

aizawa panicked when he realized they saw and told them to get back to training, but they were already immediately approaching you and showering you with questions.

"oh my god mister aizawa has a wife?!" "how long have you two been together?!" "how did you guys meet?!" "what is aizawa like at home?"

you would laugh nervously and brush off their questions, whispering something to them about how aizawa is secretly a snuggle bug or something of that nature and usher them back to training, watching as they giggle and whisper to each other as they walk back, looking at aizawa and giggling some more.

aizawa isn't sure what you told them, but he'll "glare" at you for a moment with no real anger behind his stare, then mumble a quick "love you" before returning to work.

if you get off of work before him, he loves coming home and crawling into your arms, collapsing on top of you if you're lying on the couch.

he feels like a classy man when he wants to be. he'll be the kind of man to tell you to be ready at 7pm and to wear a nice outfit, and tell you he got you both a reservation at a restaurant.

he'll never tell you where it'll be, but he'll make sure to vet the menu beforehand just to make sure it has food you like so you never have to pretend to like something around him.

it will never be an insanely popular place with a bunch of people, but it'll always be nice. he doesn't like loud, crowded restaurants that are so loud he can barely taste the food in front of him, he loves quiet and intimate spaces with you.

if you ever volunteer to chaperone at a UA camp or dance or any other event, he always secretly loves watching you work with his students. he loves the chemistry you build with each of them and the effort you put into building friendships with them.

izuku loves to talk to you, he's always running up to you with his notebook asking questions about what the personal life of a pro hero is like and seeing if you have any anecdotes or fun facts about his quirk.

you're also one of the people all might lets see his true form before it's revealed to the public. you're always worrying over him, and he always brushes it off and tells you that he's okay, but you still check on him every time you visit UA.

as seen with how he acts around his students when something traumatic happens to them, he's very good at talking you through whenever you're sad. he's not a man of many words, but the words he does say leave an impact, and he always knows what to say.

he's not much for PDA, most people don't even know he has a wife until you just show up since he's so private, he prefers his intimate affairs stay intimate, he doesn't like everyone in his business or knowing how he acts around his wife.

nothing makes him feel guiltier than all the times you're awake for days on end next to his hospital bed after protecting his students from a dangerous situation. you understand why he does it, how important his students are to him, but still... seeing how destroyed his body gets after a villain encounter always makes you sick to your stomach, and you never feel quite at ease when he's working.

you both love taking naps together, if naps could be a love language that would be your guys'. you're always snuggling when alone and one thing will lead to another and you both end up snoozing on the couch for 30 minutes or so, something about being in each other's presence is so relaxing.

[prisjean]

lifting love | caleb x reader

synopsis: a little fluff of you and caleb at the gym, he helps you lift but notice your gaze on his muscles wink wink

a/n: i would like to be recognized as “caleb’s muscles lover” bc i can’t stop thinking about them. need to be in a headlock. i hope he comes home to me & everyone pulling! this is my first time writing so i hope you can vision what im writing. thank you for reading!

wc: 608 words

the gym filled with the hum of treadmills and the shifting of weights, but your attention was laser-focused on him. caleb. your boyfriend, with his broad shoulders and toned arms, was midway through a set of curls. his biceps flexed with each repetition, just enough to make your heart skip a beat. you loved going to the gym with your boyfriend, you wanted to be strong like him for missions. after months of going to the gym, you didn’t feel like you saw much progress but the view of your boyfriend was worth all the weightlifting and soreness.

“am I doing this right?” you teased, attempting to mimic his form with your 10-pound dumbbells. your exaggerated pose made him chuckle. a deep, warm sound that sent butterflies fluttering through your chest. “perfect form, princess” he replied with a wink, setting his weights down and stepping behind you. “but let me help ya.”

he adjusted your posture, his large hands brushing against your arms as he gently guided them. the warmth of his touch, coupled with the firmness of his grip, made you momentarily forget what you were doing. your grip faltered, and the weight in your left hand tilted awkwardly, throwing you off balance. “whoa!” you gasped.

but momentarily, his hands were on your waist, steadying you with ease. “easy there, pipsqueak,” he said, his voice filled with affection. he smirked as he held you, now not letting you go.

your cheeks flushed hot. “i.. wasn’t distracted” you mumbled, you avoided eye contact with him through the gym mirror.

“of course not,” he teased, hiding a grin. “It’s not like someone was staring too hard or anything.” he continues to tease. you glared and pout at him playfully, his grin finally shows. “come on, let’s try again,” he said, his tone softer now. “i got you, i promise.” he gives you a reassuring smile.

with his encouragement, you finished the set without another mishap, though your heart raced every time he leaned closer to correct your form. when you were done, he faced you to meet your eyes, his expression warm and playful.

“good job, princess” he said, before giving you a kiss on the forehead. he extends his hand out to you, offering a high five. But when you went to slap it, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you closer.

“you know,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear, “i don’t mind when you stare. In fact…” he flexed his arm dramatically, the muscle tightening under his skin. “i do it for you.”

you tried to roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away. “you’re so full of yourself.” you reply chuckling.

“and yet, you’re always looking,” he teased, leaning in closer.

“maybe because it’s worth looking at,” you shot back, smirking as you turned the tables. His eyes widened for a moment, caught off guard, and then his face broke into a boyish grin.

“alright, alright, you win,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “but let me prove I’m more than just muscles. how about some ice cream? my treat.”

he slung his gym bag and yours over his shoulder, but before you could follow, he reached out and ruffled your hair. “you’re strong too, you know,” he said softly, his tone suddenly more serious. “i see the effort you put in, and it’s one of the things i love about you.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but lean into him as the two of you left the gym together. muscles were great, but the way he supported you? that was what you loved most.

a/n: i may have written something cute but i still want to lick peanut butter off his muscles 🫣 thank you for reading! 🩷

[ireid]

THE NOTEBOOK | spencer reid x female reader

summary: you and spencer reid are married and you have a daughter, mia. one day you decide to stay home while the both of them went out to spend some time together. you decided to do some decluttering and you find his notebook. you read all the letters he wrote to maeve.

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

word count: 4,8k

content warnings: fluff/angst. mention of someone passing away.

author's note: i wrote this after a movie i saw a few days ago. my dear friend jem (@/blvrrface on twitter) wrote this with me. a bot about this will be out soon, too! my cai account is @/ohmyreid. you can get updates on my twitter account @/spookyrydel. it's my first time writing a one shot so i hope you all will enjoy! 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

“You sure you don’t wanna tag along?” Spencer asks you, as he was fixing Mia’s curly hair in a (really messy) braid. You nodded.

“Positive. You two can go and have your fun. You have been out for a few days. I’m going to give you some daddy-daughter moments alone.” You reply, giving him a sweet smile, before looking down at Mia, who was already pouting.

“But mommy–” she starts, giving you her usual puppy eyes. “You don’t want ice cream?” You sigh, before booping her nose with your finger. “Not today peanut. Mommy has things to do.” “Actually mommy just wants to relax.” Spencer says, slightly teasing you. You raise your eyebrows.

“That, too. And I told you I want to clean up a bit. We have too many things in our closets.”

“Don’t–” He starts saying, pointing his finger at you, knowing he was starting to be sassy. You interrupt him.

“I’m not throwing away your Doctor Who action figures. Don’t worry.” “I wasn’t about to say that.” He lied, trying to hold back a smile. “Come on sweetie, we are ready. Let’s go get some ice cream and then we’ll go to the science museum. And mommy will miss all the fun.” He says, before Mia sticks her tongue out at you. You laugh.

“I will miss all the fun, I know.” You sarcastically say, gently fixing Mia’s hair since Spencer made a mess. “But I will wait for you two to come back home. And we can watch Barbie?” “Barbie in the nutcracker?” Mia asks, pouting again. As if you two are able to say no to that adorable face. You smile.

“That one. Come on, go before it’s late. Have fun without me.” You say, giving Mia a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle.

“We will.” Spencer smugly says, holding Mia’s hand. Before leaving he gives you a quick peck on your lips. “Relax a bit too. You deserve it.” “Do I?” You ask, raising your eyebrows, before giving him another quick kiss. “And you have fun. You deserve it, too.” “Bye mommy! We will see you later! I love you!” Mia says, waving at you.

“See you later peanut. Be good for daddy, okay? Love you more.” “What about me?” Spencer asks, with a fake pout. You laugh.

“Yeah, love you too. Come on, go.”

He smiles. “Love you more. See you when we come back”. He says, before they both leave.

You sigh. It feels weird being home alone, it barely happens. But sometimes you need time for yourself– and those closets won’t be emptied on their own. It was supposed to be a quiet, simple kind of day. It barely happens that you are home alone so you decided to take care of yourself, clean up your house a bit and just make beauty masks, have a glass of wine and watch some trashy tv show.

You started with yours and Spencer’s closet, putting away some old clothes to give those to people that needed them. Then you cleaned up Mia’s closet too, a nostalgic feeling spreading through your bones. It seemed like yesterday that she was born and she is already four years old.

Strange how time passes.

Now you were just trying to clean up the guest room closet. The one that had slowly morphed into a museum of Spencer’s past—boxes of books, stacks of old FBI files, that one cardigan he swore he lost but you knew was buried somewhere under a psychology textbook from 2003…

But then something catches your attention.

It was tucked beneath some old clothes. The cover was worn leather, the spine frayed. No title. No label. Just a rubber band wrapped twice around it. It was a notebook that belonged to Spencer.

You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But curiosity got you so you opened it.

You immediately saw her name.

Maeve.

And the first line of the first page felt like it reached into your chest and twisted something deep inside.

“Maeve,

I never got to say goodbye. So I will write to you instead. Hoping you’ll read this whenever you are (I hope it’s in Heaven).

I’m not sure if this helps or hurts. Maybe both. But I have to keep you somewhere, and, even if I have an eidetic memory, my memory isn’t reliable when it comes to feelings. Mostly when it comes to you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I met someone a few weeks ago. I was drinking my usual too-sweet black coffee when I heard someone arguing over the phone. I didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable but when she hung up she was crying. So I offered her a hot chocolate and asked her what’s wrong. I usually don’t do these things but I felt really sorry for her.

She’s… she’s not like you. I don’t mean that in a bad way. She’s loud. And messy. She sings off-key in the street while we walk and doesn’t know what to do with silence.

But when she smiles at me, it’s like I finally learned a new language after years of only speaking grief.

Sometimes I wonder if you’d be angry. If you’d think I moved on too fast. But then I remember what you told me in my dream—that you wanted me to live. I’m trying, Maeve. I’m really trying.”

-----

“Maeve,

Something unexpected happened. I couldn’t even believe my own ears when I asked her to go out with me. We did hang out sometimes in that coffee place we met and then walked around, but it wasn’t something super serious.

I asked Penelope what to do in this kind of situation and she told me that I should ask her out for a romantic dinner. Is that how it works?

I also read an academic article just in case.

I really don’t know. I didn’t even get to have a romantic dinner with you. I’m still a newbie in these kinds of things.

But she said yes. No, she said exactly: “A date? That would be awesome”. That’s what she said. I guess she is excited, right? Because I didn’t get to sleep last night. At all. What if she doesn’t like me in that way? What if I’m not ready?

Is it too early for me to move on from you? I wish you could answer. It has been two years but it still feels like yesterday when I lost you. What if I’m using her just to feel the void that you left? I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t think I would be able to forgive myself.

But I really like her. I like her smile, her hair. I like her sense of humor, even if sometimes I can’t totally get it. My stomach hurts when I think about her. Scientifically speaking, this is the result of the abnormal anxiety that I have been feeling since the moment I asked her (three days ago), but romantically speaking… I think those are actually butterflies. Or whatever romantic people call them.

I’m going to pick her up in half an hour. I really don’t like driving but I want to be a gentleman. I got her flowers, too. She mentioned that she didn’t like roses so I got her tulips. I hope she’ll like them.

I hope she’ll like me.

She feels like when you are cold and a ray of sunshine gently hits your face.

I hope I’m not sounding too sappy.

I still miss you. I hope you and Merton are good friends up there.”

————

“Maeve,

I’m sorry if I reach out twice in the same day, but I just wanted to tell you that the date was magical. I brought her to an Italian restaurant and the food was delicious. She is the most beautiful person in the whole world (don’t be mad, I think you were really beautiful, too. You must still be).

She really liked the flowers and I guess she really likes me too since we kissed.

I mean, she kissed me. I couldn’t stop rambling when I brought her home and she decided to shut me up in the sweetest way ever.

I’m glad she did it. I wouldn’t have the courage to do that.

I can still feel her cherry lipstick on my lips.

I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight.

I can’t wait to kiss her again.

I hope you are doing fine with all the angels in Heaven. Thank you for being here for me.”

-----

“Maeve,

She stayed the night last week.

We didn’t sleep. Not in the way you think. We talked. For hours. She fell asleep on my shoulder while I read her a short story by Stephen King. I think you’d like her. She listens.

But she also argues. A lot. With this look on her face like she’s daring me to be smarter than her. Sometimes I let her win.

I laugh around her. Do you know how strange that feels? Laughing again?”

-----

“Maeve,

We just had a fight. Our first big fight.

It’s so strange to say —

I mean, we argued before, but nothing too serious.

Now we fought, she cried and I was just frozen in place, I didn’t know what to do.

She told me that every time I’m out for work she worries too much, because anything could happen to me.

I hate having an eidetic memory because I remember every single one of her words, she said: “Didn’t you wish to become a teacher? As you always said? Because I don't understand why you keep putting yourself in danger every day. You want to have a family some day, but you don't even know if you will come back home when you walk out of that door”.

I said that I get her point of view, but I also told her that she doesn’t understand me — she cut me off immediately after this. She said that I’m the one who doesn’t understand, and that she needs some time alone.

Did I screw it up, Maeve?”

⸻

“I wanted to update you about my last letter. I didn’t screw it up, apparently.

Right after I wrote to you I decided to act on it and try to fix things, so I went to her place with her favourite food and I told her I’m sorry if it seems like I don't care about what she thinks.

She told me that she was sorry too, that she understands that I love helping people, and that she will try to understand, even if she won't ever accept that I put my own life in danger.

But I think that's because she cares about me, right?

We ate the food together and cuddled in bed, I didn’t even think about the germs!

I think I love her.”

-----

“Maeve.

We have been together for six months now, I love her. Not in the same way I loved you, but I’m in love with her just the same as I was with you. You just can't love two people in the same way, you know? But she makes me happy, she makes me breathe again. I just love her.

When she kisses me she always smiles, and then she jokes and makes fun of me all the time — but she doesn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s refreshing, you know? She keeps me on my toes, and challenges me every time.

Sometimes I’m scared we are too different, but then she snuggles on me whispering how much she loves me, and I feel at peace again. Maybe we are meant to be.

Did you send her to me, Maeve? Thank you if you did, you gave me back my life.”

-----

“Maeve,

She moved in today, we have been together for one year. Is it rushed?

Maybe, but it feels right with her.

I always imagined my life with someone calmer, but maybe I was meant for noises all around me.

You should hear how she sings when she is cooking. She is the worst singer I have ever heard — but somehow I would listen to that tune all day, forever.

I guess I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy. How is it going in heaven? Are you playing chess with Einstein? I root for you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I hope I’m not bothering you. Sorry if my letters aren’t really constant but life has been chaotic lately. Remember when I told you that she moved in with me? Now we have been living together for more than a year, but my apartment started being really small for the both of us.

We started house hunting. I didn’t think it could be so stressful. Some houses were too old, some too modern— and you know how I feel about modernity. Some houses were in really dangerous neighborhoods and I didn’t want us to live there. Also what if we end up having a family? I don’t want my kids to be in danger.

Or maybe I’m just daydreaming now. I’m a logical person but when it comes to her even the stars seem closer to me. Which isn’t technically possible— but you get me.

God Maeve, I wish you could have seen the smile on her face when I agreed to purchase that green couch that she loved so much. I didn’t really like it (don’t tell her that) but I’d give up everything just to see her face lighting up, even just a bit.

We have been having small arguments on furniture and decorations for weeks. But at the end of the day, I’m still the happiest man ever and I feel lucky, even if that means that I’ll have to carry too many boxes.

It’s our first night here in the new house— our new house. It still feels weird to say that.

Our new house.

I hope you are happy for me, but I know that you are. I still think you sent her to me as a blessing.

I hope you are still working on your research.

And sorry if I talk about her too much. She is just my everything.”

-----

“Maeve,

I bought her a ring. I didn’t think that diamond rings could be so expensive. But when I saw it I just knew it belonged to her. Actually both Penelope and JJ helped me. They have been trying to investigate for me for weeks and they found out that she was looking for rings and wedding gowns on her Pinterest page.

I have been wanting to do this for a while. We have been together for such a long time.

Today is also the anniversary of your death. It has been five years since that day. I went to the cemetery on my own and I talked to you (to your grave, at least. But I like to think that you were listening). I cried, a lot. I haven’t been crying this much for some time.

I didn’t even get the chance to say I love you back. But I did. And a part of me will always love you, no matter what.

But I love her endlessly. I didn’t think that I would be able to feel something this big and tremendous for someone. She changed the structure of my heart.

I have been having this ring for a few weeks and she is completely oblivious about it. It’s starting to feel heavy in my pants’ pocket but I want the proposal to be special.

I’m probably going to take her to the same restaurant where we had our first date and then to the beach. It’s her favorite place— I mean, I really don’t get the appeal of having sand everywhere, but she loves it.

I think I’m going to do it tomorrow. God, she doesn’t know anything. She thinks we are just going out as we usually do every weekend when I’m not working on a case.

I’m really nervous. What if she says no? I don’t think I will handle it.

But she won’t, right?

I hope you will be here with us at the beach, maybe in between the waves. I need you to be here with me. It’s going to be one of the most important moments of my whole life.

All I want is for her to say yes.

I’ll keep you updated.

I hope you are happy up there.”

-----

“Maeve,

she said yes. I know that you knew, because I could feel your presence there. Maybe I’m crazy but I just know you were looking at us with a big smile on your face.

After dinner I took her to the beach as I wanted to and we were just walking, hand in hand, while she was rambling about what happened today at her workplace.

I wasn’t really listening (which I’m sorry for) because I couldn’t wait to get on my knee and ask her to be my wife.

So I did that.

I tripped over my own foot and my eyes were glossy all the time. I tried to come up with something romantic to say but she kept on saying “oh my god stop” and she just kept on crying.

So I cried too.

Then I asked her to be mine forever and she said yes.

She said yes, Maeve. Can you believe it? Can you believe that someone wants to spend their life with me?

If it’s a dream I hope I never wake up.

She is now talking with her friends on the phone, showing them her rings. I can hear them screaming from here.

I can’t wait to marry her.

I’ll send you an invitation.

Sometimes I still feel guilty but then I look at her and I realize that I feel alive.

Talk to you soon.”

-----

“Maeve,

We just came back from our honeymoon — with “just” I mean it’s already been a week from that day when we stepped foot back in our home. I didn’t have time to write to you, jet lag has been crazy. How can people deal with that?

We spent two weeks around Europe. Paris first, then around Italy and lastly in London.

I thought she hated the idea of walking around cities all day, but she was happy as long as she had a pastry in her hands, even if she made me eat most of it anyway. I think I gained a couple of pounds, you know? I have always been a little too skinny anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. I would call those happy pounds.

The days right before the wedding have been the most anxious days of my life, but the moment I saw her walking down the aisle it was like… breathing for the first time — even if she took my breath away.

She has always been stunning to me, but maybe I fell a little more in love after seeing her in that white dress.

By the way, the honeymoon was magical. We saw so many places and took so many pictures.

I wanted to visit Greece as well, but we didn’t have much time for it. Hopefully we will go there soon.

She also stopped every two seconds to pet every stray cat or dog we met, isn’t she the sweetest?

I wish I could show you the pictures she took of me, and the ones we took together.

Could you see us walking down the streets of Paris from up there? I think we are beautiful together, at least everyone told us so.”

-----

“Maeve,

I’m going to be a dad. I wanted to write something else before being so blunt but I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

I’m going to be a dad. She is pregnant.

She has been keeping this from me for a few weeks. I did pick up on the fact that she was just drinking water and that she stopped eating sushi (I thought she actually had a stomach bug). Then when I came back earlier from a case in New Jersey she wanted me to solve a riddle. I didn’t even think about the fact that she was trying to make me say the word “baby” for half an hour. Then I realized.

I cried, Maeve. I couldn’t believe it. How is this happening to me? Is this what happiness feels like?

She cried a lot, too. Then we hugged. I wanted to hold her super tightly but I didn’t want to hurt the baby. Our baby.

Can you believe it? I always wanted to be a dad. Is it possible to already love someone so much even if they aren’t even a formed human being yet?

I’m going to protect them from everything. I’m going to be the perfect dad— I have to.

I don’t want to be like mine. I would never give up on my child and on my wife. I want to give them the whole world.

I’m going to wake up really early tomorrow morning so I can go to the library and read as many things as possible on pregnancy and newborns.

Do you think I will be good at this? God, I hope so. I don’t even know what I did to deserve this— all of this. This is something too precious. I hope I won’t ruin it.

I love her, Maeve. And I love those little cells inside her already. I feel like my heart is going to burst.

I can’t wait to meet him. Or her. I don’t care as long as they are healthy.

I didn’t think I would have another chance at this after you passed away but I was wrong.

She proved me wrong so many times, and now she is carrying our child.

I hope you’ll watch over the three (two and a half now) of us from there.”

-----

“Maeve,

I’m really sorry for not reaching out as I once used to. Our little girl is keeping us occupied— and her mom, too. Our baby is actually a girl, did I mention that? I wish I could show you the ultrasound pictures. She looks so small and I can’t wait to hold her.

Her mom’s belly is growing everyday and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I still can’t believe she is carrying the life we created together.

Sometimes she lashes out at me but I read it’s normal. It’s the pregnancy hormones. But it’s okay, I’m not the one having a tiny human in his belly.

I’m trying to be the perfect husband as soon-to-be-dad for both of them. Sometimes the cravings are too weird and disgusting but I deal with them easily.

Our baby is growing and she is healthy.

I’m loving this journey.

I hope you are proud of me and that you won’t be mad because I moved on from you.

But I know you won’t.

You sent them to me, after all.”

-----

“Maeve,

The most beautiful thing in the world just happened to me.

My daughter. She is born.

Can you believe it? I’m a dad. D-A-D.

God, it still sounds insane to me.

Her name is Mia Diana Reid.

Mia means “mine” in Italian, but I read that it's a shortened form of the Hebrew name Maria, which itself is derived from Miryam. I didn’t really like those names, so we decided that Mia was perfect.

And Diana because, well, you know, it’s my mom’s name. I’m still scared that someday she would wake up without even remembering my name, so giving her that name I think was a sort of coping mechanism.

At least I will always have her.

She was born on August 1st, I think it's a beautiful day to be born in, because she reminds me of the summer.

My wife says that Mia is a leo, and that means that she will grow up confident and sure of herself. I know nothing about astrology, but I trust her, I hope she is right. She is really into those things.

She was a mess after the delivery, so I had to hold her and comfort her, convincing her to rest — not that I’m complaining about it.

When I held Mia the first time it was the most amazing feeling in the world, I didn’t think my heart could take that much joy.

I hope I will be a good father, Maeve. I’m a bit scared about it, but she keeps saying I’m already great at it.

I didn’t sleep at all last night, I just held Mia and I didn’t want to let her go, I’m scared I might wake up just to realise nothing has ever been real.

Hopefully I’m very much awake.”

After all those pages you just stood there, speechless after those words. You kept on touching the pages over and over again. You are not upset, why should you? I mean, he always said the best things about you, it’s not like he said anything hurtful.

Before you can even decide what to do, if talk to him about it or pretend you never saw anything, the front door opens, and you hear your daughter’s voice and Spencer laughing.

Then silence.

You look toward the door, Spencer is leaning there, his eyes a bit wider, then he walks and kneels next to you.

“Love I— What are you doing?”

You stay silent for a couple of seconds and then looks at him, stuttering.

“Spence— Love I— I didn’t want to read it. I didn’t think—“ .

He stops you immediately with a smile and a kiss on your forehead, curling an arm around you and holding you tight against his chest

“Hey. Hey, breathe. I know, It’s okay. It’s nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything, but i just needed a space to talk freely about you when I had those overwhelming moments.” He chuckles a little before continuing “You really gave me an hard time, in the best way possible. I hope you’re not upset.”

You shake your head. “I’m not, I’m not, I just feel bad because I read all those things you probably needed to keep to yourself.”

He shakes his head again laughing “No, those were meant for you as well. Now you know how I really feel — how much I feel.”

That stirred something inside you, and you let out some tears.

After a little you laugh softly through the tears “You really don’t like the green couch?”

He laughs as well “I didn’t. Like at all, baby. But I learned to love it.” Then he kisses your hair “Just as much as I love you.”

-----

“Maeve,

I think this will be the last time I write to you.

Not that I don't miss you anymore, I wish you could see me every day, I think you would be proud of the man I became.

Some days ago she found out about this notebook. Not that she was mad or angry about it, she wasn’t upset at all.

We talked about it, and we hugged a lot too — at least until Mia didn’t interrupt us because she wanted to play with the Barbies after watching the movie and we all had our dolls to role-play (of course I’m Ken and I barely do anything).

You have been a big part of my life, Maeve, one of the most important chapters.

I don't even know how to tell you goodbye, since time hasn't belonged to you for years now. Can you still see the passing of days and nights from up there, or is it always daytime?

When you left, something broke. Not forever, but enough to make me realize that love does not end with absence. There are days when I wonder what would have been if you had stayed. If we had had a wider, slower, less cruel time. But then I look at my family, and I realize that life is not about choosing between one love and another. Sometimes, we are only given to keep carrying everything, despite what life throws at us.

I know that you are always here, even though I cannot see you. Sometimes I feel your hand on my shoulder, and I feel you smile seeing my wife and daughter. I know you like them very much too. In one of the first letters I wrote to you I was wrong, she is not a rebound.

Are you proud of me, Maeve? I hope so.

I have to go now, Mia is calling me - it's time for a bedtime story.

Until we meet again.

Give my regards to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I hope he has written new Sherlock Holmes stories for you (save them for me. As soon as I get there I want to read them too).”

[yesimwriting]

Normalcy

A/n deadpool and wolverine drabble bc the movie was a little too good

Summary: Still reeling from the loss of your powers, you struggle to hold it together inside the TVA's void. Thankfully, you find an uncharacteristically peaceful distraction in your old friend Deadpool and in the wolverine variant who wants nothing to do with you.

Warnings/info: reader is a (former) avenger (bc i love the avengers <3), reader is described as having similar powers to wanda and having trained with her (bc i love wanda), implied beginning of an accidental love triangle if you squint ig, maybe too much lore for a drabble (?), me writing for characters for the first time so be nice 😭

----

The lines etched into your palms do not bend and twist to spell out secrets, there are no messages worth decoding pressed into your skin. Knowing this is not enough to stop you from staring at your hands like if you could just think about it hard enough...

"There you are, Peanut." The words are so warm you're briefly pulled out of your internal angst. You straighten, head lifting slightly and arms crossing in front of your chest. "Thought I lost you."

Wade continues forward until he's directly in front of you. He pauses, watching you with an unabashed openness that you'd only ever allow him to get away with. "Kidding," he tries, "I'd never lose you."

The familiarity of the casual affection eases you further, the corner of your mouth tugging itself upwards. "I was like 15 feet away from you."

"Sorry for caring." It's his go to comeback when it comes to defending the displays of affection you have the audacity to find overdramatic.

You blink, lips parting despite your lack of response. The world has felt a little slower these last few days, moving at a pace that leaves you with no choice but to reflect. Maybe it's the void.

"Hey," his voice feels a little flatter without his usual humor, "Are you okay?"

You let out a breath, shocked by this new low. Sure, you've known Wade for awhile and you've both seen each other through plenty of stages, but he's never felt the need to attempt a genuine pep talk for you. He's never struck you as the pep talk sort...for anyone. Do you really seem that off?

It's bad enough that your identity crisis has stolen the abilities that would have helped your trio pop out of the void with no real fanfare, you can't also make your insecurities everyone else's problem. "Yeah." The response doesn't feel convincing, but with Wade wearing the Deadpool mask, it's hard to be sure. "Just y'know...we're in a void and our reality might be ripped apart, so I've been better."

He's still watching you with a level of focus that's unnerving. You've gotten used to his familiarity, his lack of care for personal space or the social rules around watching people. "You're doing it again."

"Seducing you with my ability to have a heart to heart while looking this good in my suit?"

You sigh in an attempt to dismiss your slight smile. Happy or sad, superhero that once fought Thanos or regular person that can't regulate their emotions, Wade always treats you the same. "The staring thing. You said you'd stop."

"No, you said I'd stop." The correction is a return to what you're used to. He takes a step towards you, his proximity now forcing you to tilt your chin up slightly to look him in the eye. "I'd never promise to look at you less."

"Comforting."

He angles his chin downwards, making the limited distance feel more significant. "I thought so." For a moment, he's quiet in a way that doesn't feel very him. "Are you sure you're...good?" His hesitance is another reminder that this is far out of his element. "I know this is your first..." Wade's rarely careful, only ever treading lightly on the one subject you never want to bring. "Outing, since..."

"I lost my powers."

Wade goes quiet again. If this conversation is as inevitable as it seems, a part of you wishes it could have come up elsewhere. Maybe in your shared apartment, definitely without the mask so you could better interpret his reactions. It's not often you keep secrets from him, but the hollowness you feel knowing the part of yourself you've lost isn't something you can just share.

It's more than just about missing your party tricks, it's about losing a part of yourself. They were all that was left of your time with the Avengers, of what Wanda taught you before Westview.

He lets out a breath. "They're not lost." You raise your eyebrows slightly, giving him a look meant to caution him against sympathetic optimism. "We don't know that."

He seems so happy to be able to tell you that there's no proof that any and all magical abilities have been flushed out of your system, you don't have it in you to remind him that that's mainly because you have no one to ask. What's left of the Avengers and your government connections either barely understand what you were or are untrustworthy.

"Educated wish?"

His mask muffles a slight gasp. You press your lips together in an attempt to resist smiling. "The last one worked out great."

Your eyebrows pull together skeptically, a reminder that the two of you are still technically in the middle of the last educated wish he attempted to speak into existence. "Didn't Wolverine stab you multiple times--"

He cuts you off with a heavy sigh. "If I took getting stabbed personally, do you know where we'd be?"

In a reality where Wade holds grudges over those kinds of things, you wouldn't be anything to each other, except maybe enemies. You've never pulled a knife or sword or anything sharp on him, but when you first met he did startle you before you had a total grip on your abilities, which resulted in him getting thrown through a wall.

"I never stabbed you."

His hand finds your shoulder. You let him drag his thumb against against the fabric of your suit. "And that's how I know you really love me, Peanut."

You roll your eyes in an attempt to dislodge the warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach. The last thing Wade needs is encouragement. "I mean, I do go around stabbing everyone I like less than you."

He lets out a sound that feels like a scoff attempting to mask itself as a dry laugh. "There's the sense of humor that'd hurt me if I knew you less."

"Well--"

He squeezes your shoulder, "I know you." Okay. You'll let him have this one because maybe there's some truth to what he's saying. "I'm going to go check on the car, because a fucking Honda Odyssey would break down on us for no reason before we got to the fight."

"For no reason or because of the bitch fight you and Wolverine had in it?"

There's a beat of silence in which all you can do is try to imagine Wade's expression behind the mask. You'd like to think that he's smiling. "Oh, Pumpkin." He sighs as if you've stumbled onto saying something terribly naive. "It wasn't a bitch fight, it was awesome, and probably turned you on."

You deadpan a flat, "You caught me." He hasn't let go of your shoulder, and a part of you is oddly glad for it. "I'd offer you help with the car, but..."

You're self aware enough to acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses, car maintenance being the latter. Wade doesn't even let you get your oil changed by yourself anymore.

"I've met you." He squeezes your shoulder again, the gesture weirdly stabilizing. "Give me 15 minutes to actually look at the car and then I'm all yours."

Wade lets go of you, his arm falling to his side. "Aren't you always?"

He lets out an exaggerated gasp. "You're making me feel cheaper than my usual rate, Peanut."

You smile as he turns away. Things are always a little easier with Wade. It's more than just distraction, it's his way of making things feel a little lighter. You're not sure what to do with your 15 minutes of solitude to avoid falling back into self pity.

You originally broke away from the group of void trapped heroes under the premise of needing fresh air, but even here, with the expansive, sparsely wooded area at your disposal, the oxygen in your lungs still feels flat. If Wanda were around, you'd be able to ask if she felt the strangeness of this other plane of existence as well. At least then you'd know if your dislike of the void is only mental or an actual sign of life from your abilities.

You begin to walk forward, hoping to shed all thoughts of both your former self and the eeriness of this other world. There are other people you could talk to you. The others have been polite enough, or at the very least, passionate enough to be talked into facing Cassandra.

The trees you've been wandering through grow in their sparsity, the edge of the woods revealing a patch of grassland highlighted by a fire's warm glow. You squint past the tree line, attempting to make out the figure sitting in front of the flames. Wolverine.

Secluded from the group and staring at a campfire. Surprising. Though, you guess it's not fair to judge him too harshly, you left the group to brood as well.

He doesn't like you, doesn't know you well enough to dislike you, but it took him no time to find a way to get around that. Maybe it's your proximity to Wade. You've done your best to take his hostility as un-personally as possible. You've seen enough people you really care about go through the guilt ridden, fallen hero thing to know how deep that kind of hurt runs.

You've never known a Wolverine or Logan Howlett variant, so you have no way of knowing what he was like before. Sure, you've heard stories, but you're also overly aware of how the media can twist and turn those stories to fit their narrative. One day, a superhero is the world's greatest protector, and the next their the greatest menace. Maybe he was always a little dark, or maybe he wasn't.

"Don't just stand there." The gruffness of his voice startles you more than it should.

Heat crawls up your neck, a part of you more embarrassed than you should be. You weren't lurking, or at the very least, you weren't trying to.

You sigh as you abandon the safety of the tree line. "Sorry." He turns his head away from the fire. "I wasn't--I was just walking."

He's quiet for such a long moment you almost expect him to not respond at all. "Without your shadow?"

Wow, only a halfhearted dig at Wade. You must have caught him in a good mood. "Friend, and he's looking at the car. I'd be looking at the car with him, but I figured the odds for tomorrow are bad enough as is."

Another uneasy stretch of silence. "Yeah." There's not much, if anything, to take from the comment. "If you're here to convince me to go with you guys tomorrow--"

"I'm not." It's an honest answer. You had been walking around aimlessly and happened to stumble onto him. "I'm not into the pep talk thing." He scoffs, the sound lacking in genuine aggression. "What?"

He lifts his gaze from the fire, his eyes settling on some point past the horizon. "I thought you were an Avenger."

You're not sure what bugs you more, the fact that he's so sure he has you all figured out or the implication that the Avengers spend their days encouraging each other instead of actually doing things. What the Avengers are--or maybe were--is so much more than that.

You step forward, further separating you from the cluster of trees. "The Avengers are about a lot more than that."

His attention briefly shifts onto you before returning to the flames. If the silence is meant to be dismissive, it doesn't feel that way. There's a patience there that doesn't suit his usual brooding.

"Do you care if I sit?" The question is forced out before you can overthink it. "I promise no inspirational speeches or small talk."

After a beat, he dips his chin downwards in a nod so subtle you would have missed it if you had been watching him any less carefully. You're more relieved by his acceptance than you should be, your feet carrying you towards the campfire.

You sit at a polite distance, knees bent in front of you. His silence seems to push against the void's sluggishness. Maybe the issue has been you fighting this world's momentum.

"Why are you with him?" You're not sure if you're more shocked by the question or the break in silence. When all you can do is blink, he continues, "You seem--" He subtly clears his throat, as if struggling to admit this next part, "Nice, normal."

Oh. If you had been focused, you likely would have got what he meant without the clarification. "I know Wade's a lot--especially to you." You place a hand against your knee, thinking about that very specific safety you only feel with Wade. You don't have to try at being anything, or worry about earning your keep in any capacity. "But once you get to know him, he's a good friend."

You look away from the fire pit in time to see the skeptical look Logan throws in your direction. "I'm serious." His expression doesn't change. "He um--after I stopped being important to everyone else, he still liked me ." This isn't the conversation you wanted to stumble onto, especially not with someone who you barely know and actively dislikes you. "That sounds kind of dumb, but the point is, he's loyal."

He turns his head back towards the fire. "You always call him by his name." The observation is so stiff you'd consider it hesitant if it came from anyone else.

You've never thought much about Wade's name. Part of it is familiarity, and the rest of it is a force of habit. Even when you were with the Avengers, you preferred using actual names when off duty. It's easier to separate the mask from the person beneath it when you make an active effort to.

You shrug. "I'm not into off duty superhero names, Wolverine."

He falls silent again. You concentrate on the flames, the way they illuminate the world around you. "You can--" He cuts himself off, attention never wavering from the fire. "You can call me Logan, if you want."

An unsteady warmth roots itself in your chest. You didn't expect any sort of kinship between you and the wolverine Wade stole from some other timeline beyond him occasionally accepting your attempts at creating peace between him and Wade.

"Okay," you focus on keeping your tone measured, avoiding any emotions that might startle him, "Logan."

There's no tension in the quiet that follows. You let the minutes pass until you're certain that Wade's waiting for an interruption disguised as an attempt to help. "I should go, Wade's probably waiting for me."

You push yourself to stand. You let yourself glance at him one last time before turning towards the trees you emerged from.

[darnell-la]

Please I need more “drive-by sniffing” It’s so funny to me but also I’m into it

warnings: jealousy, hiding keys, sniff-by (drive by sniffing), lying, teasing, trapping, kissing, carrying, oral (fem receiving), etc.

note: perv!logan???? FUCKIN’ HELL.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“They’re just a friend, Wade” y/n sighed as Wade kept complaining about where and why she was going. She was trying to find her keys and he knew for a fact he took them.

“Where are they, Wade? I told you I was leaving before I took a shower and now they’re off the kitchen counter so — Where are they!?” Y/n yelled at the man, making Logan choke on his beer.

“I don’t know, peanuts. Maybe it’s lost up your ass,” Wade shrugged as he got up and slipped his shoes on. “Shame on you for leaving mister I have no life and I hate everyone and everything, over there. Maybe you couldn’t take him on a date,”

“It’s not a date!” She yelled at the man, knowing this might be, but it was none of his business. “Yeah, sure it’s not, but since it’s so not a date, why not take Grandpa with you? He hasn’t seen the sun in a while,” Wade whispered.

Before y/n could say anything, he left, shutting the door hard and singing as he skipped down the hall, ready to go see Vanessa. “Dick shit,” said under her breath.

“Language, young lady,” Logan chuckled as he took a sip of his ninth beer. “Who are you? The god of prohibited language?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the man before she continued her search for her car keys.

“Lookin’ for these, bub?” Logan’s voice spoke after a few minutes of silence. She wanted to ignore him, but once she heard her keys jingle, her head snapped towards him.

“Bro, you had it the whole time!?” Y/n wanted to yell at the man, but he was Wade’s guest. Y/n only stayed here at times when it got too late for her to drive home. He’s somehow friends with her elders and he needed a “full-time babysitter for his dog” that he had just picked up and left with.

Her parents and grandparents insisted she didn’t help Deadpool and Dogpool. They were all big fans, but y/n wasn’t planning on working for him.

Wade had something behind what he was doing after y/n served him his food at bingo night. She was young but not too young, pretty, went to college, and was hard to deal with. Right up Logan’s alley, but did Wade tell him his secret evil plan? No.

“Yeah, because you’re lying,” Logan put the keys back in his pocket after she came over to him to take back what was hers. “What? Bro, give me my keys,” y/n was annoyed.

“You are going on a date, ain’t ya?” He asked. She could do all the washing she wanted, but he could still smell her. “No, for the love of god. Can you guys stop asking me that shit? It’s annoying!”

“Last time I checked, it only takes you ten minutes to shower, not thirty,” y/n was surprised he paid attention to her shower times. She’s only been in and out of Wade’s shared apartment for a couple of months.

“Your point is?” She asked, knowing he wasn’t dumb, but she hoped he’d give up. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he got up, now towering over her. Her neck ached from the sudden new angle she had to look at him.

“I can smell you, you know,” Logan admitted. “What do you mean?” She genuinely asked. “I can smell you leaking. It’s hard to miss when you smell like that every time you leave to meet up with your friends,”

She wanted to call out his perverted activities but had nothing to say. He was old, but she wasn’t a minor, so what could she say to make him feel uncomfortable for invading her privacy.

“How good is he? Seems like he fucks good if you’re soaked right before you leave,” Logan had y/n cornered on the wall. She didn’t know she was backing up that much until she had nowhere else to go.

“How about you let me meet him. Lemme watch how he fucks you so I can show you better,” his hot breath blew on her face. He was so close and intimidating. Where did all of this come from?

“Sometimes I can smell him on you. I hate it so much, you know why, bub?” Logan asked as his finger cupped her chin. Y/n softly shook her head. “Because I can do better,”

Before she knew it, his lips were all over her, barely letting her process before his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Usually, she found that nasty, hating the sloppy kisses, but this time — Fuck, it felt so nice.

Y/n kissed back, whines escaping her mouth as she now felt needy. She was already turned on, knowing she was going to meet her boy toy tonight, but Logan seemed better. He was always the better choice.

“Greedy slut,” the man spat, sounding angry, but she knew that’s how they talked when they were turned on. She could feel his hard on through his jeans. He was grinding up and down her body like a pole.

“Always leavin’ to fuck another man, like I’m not here, baby. I don’t like that disrespect,” Logan pulled the girl off of the wall and now carried her to his room that they sometimes shared.

Wade’s apartment is a two-bedroom, so if she slept over, she’d sleep on Logan’s bed, and he’d sleep on the small couch in the room.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t sleep better when she was right across from him. He’d also be lying if he said he would switch the sheets because he loved her smell.

He never did anything like this back where he was, but something after that fight made him switch. He was turning into a small pervert for a young lady in who’s barely the legal drinking age.

“Smellin’ like candy,” Logan sniffed, loving the new lotion she had bought a few days ago. “Gonna go through all that work when I take you on a date?” He asked as he slowly took the girl's clothes off. “Maybe,” she shyly said, surprised he wasn’t thinking about this as a one-night stand.

“Doesn’t matter, bub — Ima still eat that pussy till you cry,” he said as he spread the girl's legs. She felt so smooth. She was ready for him, not that dickhead she was getting ready to meet.

Logan slowly slicked up the girl's slit, taking in how close he is to her smell. All the days of smelling her getting ready for another man, just for her to get pulled back for him.

“Bet this cunts sweet,” the man said before diving in for a few seconds. Her mom got stuck in her throat. That was amazing, and he had more.

“Sure fuckin’ is,” Logan quickly went back in, arms wrapping around and thighs to pull her into his face. He wanted to suffocate in between her thighs.

[xmissrogersx]

I just know it, darlin’ | Joel Miller

tags: reader is pregnant, ellie and Joel being protective, joel being a daddy’s girl of course.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila’s materlist

Ellie was in her room with Dina. Both were reading old comics.

-Hey, it's great that you're going to have a sister…—the brunette said with emotion.

-Or brother, this people doesn’t wanna know it yet. But yes, it's great and everything... the wait doesn't end anymore —Ellie sighed.

-Why do you say that? María told me that a pregnant woman is sometimes more sensitive, but I don't think Paris is like that, is she?

-Well... -Ellie said under her breath, not wanting to sound too obvious. She loves the blonde very much, who looked like a motherly figure for her in every way possible.

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-Hush little baby don't say a word, papa's going to buy a mockingbird!

Paris entered the kitchen singing with a microphone, that on Maria's recommendation, the baby could hear the voices of her parents.

Joel was having his morning coffee when he heard his wife enter, and then snorted under his breath and brought his right hand to between his brows.

Ellie was having her cereal for breakfast, raising both hands to her ears and resting her head against the table.

-And if the mockingbird won't sing, papa's going to buy a diamond ring.

-Papa is going to buy 10 diamonds just to shut up that fucking bird —the girl whispered to her father, who silenced her, not wanting Paris to listen.

-What do you want for lunch today? —the young woman asked both of them.

-Whatever you want, darlin’ —Joel replied, stroking her hand, which made the girl start tearing her up.

-Oh, not again —Ellie begged. When Paris started with the "hormonal crying" session it was difficult to stop her.

-You're so sweet —between hiccups and small tears that went down her cheeks.

-Okay, I'm going, I’m late to meet Jesse.

Getting up to quickly go to the door, the blonde stopped her so she wouldn't forget her lunch.

-Thank you.

-I put you a chocolate with extra peanut that I bought the week before, you deserve it for your great first patrol, baby.

The girl hugged her as best she could because of the woman's big belly, who was already starting to cry again.

-It's okay, I'm leaving —Ellie ran to the door.

-I have to go with Tommy, beautiful —Joel announced while hugging her from behind. Paris sighed.

-It's okay... I guess you have to go, you have no choice —she walked away to start climbing the stairs slowly.

-He wants to show me the plans for the new houses...

-I know, I understand. Well, then I'll go upstairs, to our room...

While the young woman said those words, she began to unbutton her shirt, and lower her skirt, revealing a set of black lingerie with lace that made Joel not remember how to breathe.

-Do you think I should lie down and take it out? I'm feeling a little hot.

-It would be a mistake if I say no. You're beautiful, baby girl —he exclaimed with a dark look.

The blonde smiled under her breath.

-So, do you have to go with Tommy?

-Fuck Tommy.

Joel take her in his arms to go up to their room.

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Paris sat on the couch next to her husband, who was reading an old construction manual.

-Officially there are only 2 months left to meet him —the blonde exclaimed excitedly to Joel, who approached her to place a kiss on his lips, and then another on his bulging belly.

-Don't you want to the baby hear your voice? Maria said he must listen to the voices of both parents.

-Baby, I think she already listens to me without needing that thing, don't worry, the baby will know our voices.

-¿she? ¿how do you know is a girl? —Paris raise an eyebrow.

-I Just know it, darlin’ — and he relaxed, believing that he had ended the subject.

The woman nodded taking his hand, and then took the microphone again.

-Twinkle twinkle, little lamb! —Joel was startled by his girlfriend's scream.

-Paris, please don't sing anymore -he speak as wisely as I could.

-Why? —she asked surprised.

-Because... you don't sing very well, baby...

-You finally told her —a voice roared behind them.

The blonde opened her mouth in indignation, looking at her partner and daughter, to get ready to answer the accusation.

-Calm down, we don't want the baby to hear us fight. Come, let's go for an ice cream.

-How dare you, you..

-Hey, we said no fights in front of the baby.

-That's ridiculous, I'm always in front of the baby, Joel —she pointed to her big belly.

-Paris just calm down, okay? When all this is over, we will laugh at this —Ellie appeased.

-Your out-of-tune songs, your nocturnal cravings, your incessant cries... we love you, but it's already getting very unbearable —the girl listed.

-You're going through something huge, baby, it's normal. It will be over, soon —Joel finished.

The woman saw them with a grimace on her face, and then smiled falsely.

-You are two tiny little man to me right now — she approached slowly making a gesture of crushing with his fingers.- and you must leave this house to return with more respect, and a pizza!

Father and daughter were stunned, they didn't expect Paris reaction.

-Pizza sounds good —he said, cutting the silence.

-Yes, I'm hungry for pizza —Ellie replied.

Before leaving, they both walked to the blonde to kiss her on each cheek, who was with her arms crossed and with her eyebrow raised.

-With double cheese —the young woman demanded.

-Yes, darlin’ —Joel replied, and then went out the door.

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-Wow —said an amazed Dina to her friend.

-Yep, althought I partly understand her, it must be horrible to carry that heavy —the girl moved her hands to her belly.

A knock on the door made both girls scream their heads, seeing a blonde hair.

-Girls, I don't want to ruin your fun, but it's already past 10; and tomorrow you have training. Go to sleep. Ellie, you already know how your father gets.

-I already want him to be born —Ellie settled inside her sheets, to which the young woman wrapped her.

-Just like me, I can't stand not being able to see my feet anymore —she exclaimed, causing the girl a laugh.-Good night sweetheart.

-Good rest, ma —the girl replied, causing a jump in Paris heart.

Paris went out the bedroom door to see her man lying on the wall, who smiled to see her emotion.

-It's already the third time she tells me "ma" -she sobbed with joy, to which Joel took her face to bring their breaths closer and merge into one.

They moved away for lack of air, but without ceasing to look at each other with the same love they had seen for 3 years.

-You are, baby. You're her mother.

Paris felt blessed. The world would be chaos, but his world was perfect.

Hello baby girls!

I hope you have seen the references of Modern Family! Personally MF is my fav comedy series.

If you help me by sharing my story on your profiles you would help me a lot, I love writing very much, I feel that great things are coming. And with you reading my stories, the more I want to do them.

Thank you for reading!

Priscila🌸