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purinbunnii · 2 months ago

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“Good morning, Mrs. Gojo.”

⸻

The first morning as husband and wife began with a thud.

“Who the hell puts a laundry basket there?” Gojo’s groggy voice echoed through the hallway.

You groaned, not bothering to open your eyes. “You did, yesterday, when you said—and I quote—‘this is strategic placement, babe, trust me.’”

There was a pause. Then: “Okay, but past-me was clearly a moron. Newlywed immunity?”

You chuckled into your pillow, finally rolling onto your back to squint at the sunlight bleeding through the blinds. The bed still smelled like your body lotion and a faint whiff of Gojo’s cologne—woodsy and fresh, clinging to the sheets and your skin. You were already too soft for him.

He padded in barefoot, hair sticking out in five directions, one sock on. He looked like a sleep-deprived anime character—ironic, given the sheer perfection he usually walked around with.

Gojo squinted at you, then dramatically flopped onto the bed, burying his face in your stomach. “You smell too good. It’s offensive.”

You carded your fingers through his snow-white hair. “I showered last night. You should try it.”

“I was going to, but then someone seduced me with marriage vows and fuzzy pajamas.”

“Those pajamas have cats on them.”

“Exactly. Irresistible.” He lifted his head to grin at you. “Morning, Mrs. Gojo.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that—Mrs. Gojo. It sounded ridiculous. It sounded like magic.

You grinned back. “Morning, Mr. Gojo. What’s for breakfast?”

He gasped. “What, I have to cook? Isn’t there a honeymoon clause where you feed me grapes in bed for the first month?”

You sat up, poking his cheek. “If you want grapes, go to the store. Also, there’s no clause. I read the fine print.”

“Ugh. The betrayal. The treachery. The hunger!” He rolled over and reached blindly for his phone. “Fine. Pancakes it is. But only because I love you.”

“You can’t cook pancakes.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

“You almost set the toaster on fire last week.”

He stood dramatically, shirtless and undeterred. “That was a toaster’s fault. Today, we fight fate.”

You watched his retreating back, all lean muscle and chaos, and called after him, “Please don’t fight fate with the stove!”

He waved you off and yelled from the kitchen, “This is the sound of a domestic king rising!”

And twenty minutes later, there were slightly-burned pancakes on a plate, topped with strawberries he cut himself and arranged like a smiley face.

You sat cross-legged on the kitchen stool while he stood behind you, chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist.

“They’re ugly, but they taste okay,” he mumbled.

You giggled, mouth full of sweet syrup and warm batter. “Just like you.”

He groaned. “Ouch. I let you take my last name for this?”

“I earned it. I endured your wedding vows. You quoted Beyoncé.”

“That was romantic!”

“It was a karaoke version of ‘Crazy in Love.’”

“Exactly! A love anthem for the ages.”

You turned to face him, nose brushing his. His eyes softened, no teasing now—just quiet affection, filling the space between you like sunlight.

“You’re a disaster,” you whispered.

“And you married me.” He kissed you, syrup-sweet and lingering. “Guess you’re stuck now, huh?”

You melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The house was quiet. Not in a lonely way, but in a “we live here now” kind of way.

Soft jazz played from your phone speaker, mixing with the sound of simmering pasta sauce and the occasional clink of cutlery. You stood at the stove, lazily stirring the pot, wearing one of Gojo’s t-shirts that hung off your shoulder and barely covered your thighs. He hadn’t stopped staring since you walked out of the bedroom in it.

“Hey.” His voice broke through the kitchen’s cozy hush. “You know how people say domestic life is boring?”

You glanced over your shoulder. Gojo was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirking in that effortlessly cocky way that made you want to kiss him and flick his forehead at the same time.

“Yeah?” you said.

“They’re wrong. You cooking in my clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen me shirtless in mirrors a lot.”

You rolled your eyes and threw a wooden spoon at him. He caught it with one hand and kissed the handle. “Satoru,” you warned.

“What? I’m appreciating my wife.”

“My very tired wife. Who worked all day and is still cooking dinner because you tried to make garlic bread in the microwave.”

“I thought it would be faster!”

You laughed—soft and easy, the kind of laugh that only came out with him. He crossed the space between you, arms sliding around your waist from behind.

His lips brushed your temple. “Let’s just order takeout next time.”

You hummed, leaning back into him. “Only if you pick something that isn’t sushi again. You always forget the wasabi.”

He gasped. “The slander in this home!” Then he added, quietly, against your neck: “But I’ll remember next time.”

Dinner turned out edible. You ate on the couch, legs tangled, your plate resting on Gojo’s thigh while his head was tilted back, mouth open dramatically.

“Tell me this isn’t peak romance,” he said between bites.

You grinned. “You’ve got sauce on your chin.”

He turned to you, lips puckered. “Clean it for me?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and sweet. “There. Better?”

He looked dazed. “I forgot what we were talking about.”

Later, dishes done (by him, as penance), the two of you lay curled up in bed. The windows were cracked open, letting in the sound of cicadas and the smell of summer. His hand rested on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles.

“Hey.” His voice was barely a whisper now, breath warm against your ear. “I know we joke a lot, but…”

You turned toward him, curious. His expression had softened, his eyes shining even in the dark.

“This,” he murmured, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “You and me, like this. It’s everything I never thought I deserved.”

Your throat tightened, heart stuttering with the weight of his words.

You kissed him gently—once, twice—then buried your face in his chest. “Well. Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

He smiled against your hair. “Good. I was planning on staying the night forever anyway.”

And in the hush of your shared room, limbs tangled under soft blankets, you both knew: this was home.

————

The morning sun streamed through sheer curtains, painting gold across the floorboards and your bare feet. You blinked awake slowly, the kind of wake-up that only happens on Sundays—no alarm, no rush, no makeup, just the weight of a warm blanket and the man snoring softly beside you.

You turned your head.

Satoru Gojo was half-sprawled on his stomach, mouth open, hair defying gravity even in sleep. One of his long legs had somehow kicked all the covers to your side. His cheek was squished against the pillow, and he was absolutely drooling.

You grinned. “So majestic,” you whispered.

He cracked one eye open. “Mmm. I heard that, wife.”

You leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. “How unfortunate.”

Gojo groaned and pulled you down beside him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. “Let’s never get out of bed. We live here now. Bed people.”

“Tempting, but someone promised me pancakes.”

He groaned louder. “Why do I open my mouth.”

“Because you like to flirt, exaggerate, and make promises you can’t keep,” you said sweetly. “Also, you said it twice. In writing.” You gestured to the napkin taped to your nightstand that read in his handwriting: “Sunday Pancakes, I swear on my six-pack. Love, Husband.”

Satoru looked betrayed. “That was a romantic gesture!”

“That was a contract,” you said, already slipping out from under the covers. “Come on, Chef Gojo. Let’s see what you got.”

—

Thirty minutes later, your kitchen smelled like heaven and chaos.

Gojo was wearing an apron with a cat on it that said ‘I knead you’. His hair was tied up in the worst man-bun you’d ever seen, and there was flour on his cheek.

You were seated on the counter, one leg swinging, sipping lukewarm coffee and watching him flip pancakes like his life depended on it.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, flipping another onto the stack. “You only married me for my mediocre cooking skills.”

You held up your hand and made a small gesture with your fingers. “Mmm. Fifty percent.”

“And the other fifty?”

You tilted your head. “The way you look in this apron. Obviously.”

He grinned and crossed the room, sliding between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs. “Well, I knead you too, kitten.”

You groaned. “Why are you like this?”

He leaned in, voice low and warm, “Because it makes you smile like that.”

You melted. It wasn’t fair—how easily he could unravel you with something soft and simple.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know.” His thumbs stroked lazy circles on your legs. “You married me, remember?”

The pancakes were a little overcooked. The coffee was a little cold. He forgot the syrup.

But you ate together anyway, toes touching under the table, his foot trailing up your ankle. He stole bites off your plate. You stole kisses between chews. The crossword lay unfinished beside your mugs, a few random guesses scribbled in Gojo’s handwriting.

And when he looked at you with that stupidly tender smile, all soft lashes and sleepy love, you realized:

This was the good part.

Not the wedding. Not the honeymoon.

This. Burnt pancakes, bed hair, newspaper smudges on your fingers, and him—your husband—dancing with you barefoot in the kitchen when your favorite song came on.

Just life. Sweet, stupid, perfect life.

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orellazalonia · 19 days ago

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Certified Genius, Unlicensed Moron

Summary: Exploring more of your relationship and dynamics with the rest of the Avengers, they are well-acquainted with how much whiplash and how many headaches you give them on a daily. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: The other going on dates fic didn’t have enough unhinged questionable reader for me. And to be honest….I didn’t like it as much as the prequel. So! I wrote this to cheer me up and feed my need for dumb & genius reader. Purely self-indulgent but hopefully you like it too. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Being an Avenger came with certain expectations. Tactical prowess. Cool one-liners. Teamwork. A mild-to-moderate understanding of physics.

You had exactly none of that. And yet, you were thriving.

You had taken on aliens, mercenaries, HYDRA agents, and that one time, an actual raccoon with a vendetta. You once guessed the password to a SHIELD vault on the first try by inputting “boob69.” It worked. Nobody ever explained why. You were untouchable.

But nothing broke the team more than the group chat.

It had been a standard team communication channel at first: briefings, updates, emergency alerts. Then you joined and everything fell apart.

GROUP CHAT: “Earth’s Mightiest Dumbasses”

Tony: Meeting in the conference room at 9 A.M. sharp.

You: what’s 9 AM in frog time

Natasha: What does that mean?

You: like if a frog wears a watch is the time upside down

Tony: Please, I’m begging you to just answer the question like a normal person.

You: normal is a strong word

You once sent a photo of a pigeon wearing a hat with the caption “me when I infiltrate enemy lines.” No one questioned it. Mostly because they couldn’t.

After all, you’re the same person who confidently gave a TED Talk about the strategic history of medieval siege warfare mid-mission while wearing Crocs. The same person who once said, “Vibranium tastes like disappointment,” and then refused to elaborate. You somehow manage to both ace every debrief but also once asked if Wi-Fi is just helpful air soup.

Thor called you “small thunder” after you electrocuted yourself trying to microwave aluminum “as a science experiment.” You did not have lightning powers. It was just dumb luck. And you’d do it again.

GROUP CHAT:

Clint: who the hell labeled all the fridge items in latin?

You: idk man maybe someone wants you to be cultured

Bucky: You labeled the eggs, “Future ankle peckers, do not anger them”

You: ...and have you been attacked? no? you’re welcome.

Bucky still doesn't understand you. Not even a little.

And a lot of times, that haunts him.

He watches you eat hot sauce straight from the bottle like it's a health tonic, quote Shakespeare when you’re tired, and wear mismatched crocs into certain battles because "they're my war shoes." One has a tiny sword glued to it.

You once looked him dead in the eye and said, “I wasn’t born. I was assembled in a Target parking lot during a thunderstorm.”

And then walked away.

He’s been thinking about it for months.

Another time you brought him a bag of gummy worms, patted his head, and said, “For when the depression demons attack.”

Despite all your nonsense, he can’t stop looking at you like you hung the moon with glitter glue and then ate half of it because that brand “smelled like frosting.”

He had tried to pretend you’re a nuisance at first, shaking his head and sighing at some of your antics. But it’s all morphed to reluctant acceptance of the fact that he’ll have to live with so many unanswered questions. That doesn’t stop him from taking care of you though.

He brings you hot chocolate after missions. He makes sure you’re behind him when it gets dangerous. He drags you out of fountains you jump into because you wanted to know what the regals birds like about it. He even downloaded TikTok just to understand your references.

One time you disappeared in the Tower. For five hours.

He found you in the broom closet, sitting cross-legged with three Roombas, wearing a crown made of forks.

“They know secrets,” You whispered. “I’m learning their ways.”

Bucky blinked.

“…I brought you pizza.”

You gasped. “I knew the prophecy would come true.”

GROUP CHAT:

Steve: Can someone explain what this is?

Image attached: You in a vent near the ceiling wearing a bad ghost outfit like a cursed Halloween decoration, eating Cheez-Its.

You: surveillance

Steve: Why…

You: i wanted to know what Bucky does when I’m not looking

Bucky: They’ve been up there for 6 hours. I offered help. They hissed at me.

Despite it all, you were deadly in the field.

You’d spout off the periodic table in the middle of a fistfight, pull off gravity-defying stunts “because I saw it in a cartoon once,” and solve encrypted Hydra codes in 30 seconds, all while questioning if Mickey Mouse and his friends ever had to pay rent to live in the Mickey Mouse clubhouse.

Bucky, your begrudgingly loving boyfriend, no longer reacts when you do things like wear medieval armor to a stealth op for morale reasons or quote Shrek during hostage negotiations. He just quietly takes your hand and steers you away before you lick anything radioactive.

Steve once asked why you were on a mission wearing roller skates. You said, “Speed and style, Cap,” then crashed directly into a vending machine and pulled out a single uncrushed Twix with solemn reverence.

Tony called you “the human embodiment of a broken Google search.” Wanda called you “a mystery I’ve chosen not to solve.” Natasha just called you “terrifying.”

Because for every baffling thing you did, like calling her “Mom” during a sniper stakeout because “you give off stern PTA energy”, you turned around and cracked encrypted intel before Bruce finished making coffee.

Once, in a mission briefing, Rhodey asked, “Wait, wasn’t the Hindenburg caused by a gas explosion?” and you, dead serious, replied, “Who’s the Hindenburg? That sounds like a guy who collects teeth.”

Everyone went dead silent.

Sam just nodded slowly and said, “Right, okay. Yeah, cool. This is the part where I stop paying attention.”

Nobody could figure you out.

Bruce once ran 14 psychological profiles on you. None of them matched. One came back as possibly a goat in human form.

Clint swears you once explained string theory using sock puppets and a waffle. And it made sense.

GROUP CHAT:

Tony: I’m updating the security protocol. Everyone needs to re-register their biosignatures.

You: what if I am a security risk

Tony: You are. Absolutely. Every day. In every way.

You: then I win

Natasha: What did you win?

You: You’ll see 😈

Tony: I have forgotten what peace feels like anymore.

You called yourself “The Distractinator” in combat.

Enemies didn’t know what to do with you. Were you a genius? Crazy? Feral? Was that a printer you just threw at their face while quoting Pride and Prejudice?

Yes. To all of it.

And somehow, impossibly, you were everyone’s favorite. Because while you were a chaos gremlin of untold magnitude, you cared.

You noticed when Clint seemed tired and unorthodoxically left snacks in his quiver.

You taught Steve how to use TikTok but made sure to curate only dog videos and motivational frog memes.

You convinced Bucky he could wear purple and look amazing. He does now. Regularly.

You helped Tony fix a faulty AI loop by accident while trying to build “a blender that screams.”

You’re not just a part of the team. You’re the emotional support cryptid.

And no matter how many explosions you cause with your “experiments,” or how many philosophical debates you start about whether lasagna is a cake, the Avengers wouldn’t trade you for the world.

…Though Tony did try to sell you to the X-Men once.

It didn’t work.

They sent you back with a fruit basket and a strongly worded letter.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #self indulgent #unhinged!reader #chaotic!reader #avengers group chat #marvel x reader #earth’s mightiest headache

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michadeau · 4 days ago

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THEY MASSACRED SOME GIRL (NOT MY GIRL BC IDC THAT MUCH) FUCK EVERYTHINGGG

"wow this manhwa has a really unique art style i can't wait for season 2"

#please obsess over me #<- sauce btw #this is helmut all over again #some guy in the comments “it looks better”—look at the setting you moron!!! do you have no sense of proportion.............

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shurisneakers · 5 months ago

Note

“i know we almost died just now, but… am i the only one who’s hungry?” is so harmless reader core… but what if it was Bucky saying this?

Also hi i love u

hi <3 hey <3 i love u too <3 harmless turns 4 years old next year she's like in school now

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

"Great job, team," you pant, raising your hand for a high five. "I think that was very well handled."

Bucky, still trying to process what exactly the fuck just went down, does not even respond when you match his indifference, dropping your hand to slap it against his.

"Is that how it always goes?" you ask him, looking around the empty lot. "I figured there'd be a lot more zing, y'know? Some oomph. That was like, fine."

The mission was going fine, calm even, until you managed to piss them off, leading to them calling in backup, leading to you both being severely outnumbered, leading to you deciding you'd gotten bored which finally lead to you ending it with a timeout-inator.

Things had exploded, Bucky had to pull down a door to shield you both-- it was a whole thing that he definitely did not mentally prepare for. This was just supposed to be a simple data extraction. He doesn't know at which point nuclear guns got involved.

"How--" Bucky stops mid-sentence, brain scrambling to put together things, "--how did you get assigned on this mission again?"

It wasn't like he claimed to be the expert on all things SHIELD, but he figured that a non-Avenger, non-agent needed a lot of clearance to be allowed on a mission, no matter how mundane the initial objective was. The fact that it devolved into madness was more on you than SHIELD.

"I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet," you explain, smoothing out your singed clothes.

"The what?"

"Fine, you caught me," you give in without even trying, dusting some ash off his shoulder. "I forged my name on some documents, used some white paint. Did an ol' switcharoo. You know how it goes."

"You faked your way here?" he shouts, dropping the damn door he was still holding. "What the hell was your plan?"

"Why does everything need a plan? Why can't I just tag along to see what you do for a living?"

"We nearly got killed. You--"

"But we didn't."

"That is not the point. You said it was a special mission, you said you had clearance from Nick to--"

"I said Nick would give me clearance for anything. And it is a special mission. I'm here, isn't that the specialest gift of all?"

"You didn't ask?" he screeches instead. "How did you get here? Who the fuck was supposed to be here in your place?"

"Clint," you say with a sheepish smile. "He told me he'd wash my garage so we swapped."

That fucking moron. "He'd wash your garage in exchange for you risking your life--"

"I didn't risk anything." You scoff. "I knew we would handle that like champs."

"We nearly got annihilated by a nuclear gun." He drags a hand down his face. "If he didn't trip over your stupid jacket in the last second, we would be dust."

"Well yeah, only if you put it like that," you relent. Bucky glares at you.

You look out at the empty room, one hand on your hip. Lot of rubble and shrapnel in places they had no reason being.

"Huh," you say after a while. "Guess we did just almost die."

"That's it?" he raves, still incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's crazy-sauce, man," you add, throwing your hands up when he glares at you. "What? What else should I be saying?"

"Where the fuck did you send them?" Bucky finally makes a move, wiping the dirt off his metal fingers onto his cargo pants.

"I put them in timeout," you reply, tapping the gun you'd put back into he pocket of your pants.

"Where is timeout?"

"Like, somewhere outside of time," you dismiss. "Time-out. You get it."

His eyes clench shut, taking a deep inhale in before exhaling, lest he pop a blood vessel.

"We almost died," he tells you again.

"If you say so," you nod.

He stares at you.

You stare right back at him.

The world keeps spinning.

"I'm hungry," he grumbles. "You want lunch?"

"I could go for a sandwich, yeah."

#ari answers #friends #wlwloverwrites #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #harmless mini drabbles #harmless fic

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starful02 · 1 year ago

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Life is wild sometimes. I made a small decision almost a year ago, based on a recommendation of one of the most positive individuals to ever grace my life so far, and I firmly believe that it has changed the course of my life. The decision was to sign up for a class about fantasy writing and publishing that my university was offering, which is the exact genre I so desperately want to have a career in (I want to be a writer you see). That fall I took the 8 week class and it happened to be taught by none other than the absolutely wonderful, utterly amazing fantasy author Alex Rowland (aka @ariaste). If you asked myself or any of my peers, we will happily tell you that this class was one of the comfiest, kindest, most encouraging academic experiences we have ever had and that it has changed our lives. Anyone who has taken at least one creative writing class in their life will tell you of the horrors that ruthlessly plague them and all sorts of traumatic incidents endured. This class was a soothing balm to a disheartened soul with trampled ambitions. You might be wondering where I'm going with this? Well, when you take a class with an author, they tend to gush rather happily about their work. It did not take long for me to know in my heart of hearts that I NEEDED to get my hands on Alex's latest book, A Taste of Gold and Iron (aka ATOGAI). And when I finally got the perfect chance to read it a little over a month ago, when I tell you, it was chapter five when I became undeniably aware that this book had snatched my heart and I would gladly let it have it for the rest of my life. If I hadn't already bought all of Alex's books on a strong hunch that I would absolutely, completely and utterly fall in love with ATOGAI, I would have definitely right after I finished that chapter. This is inarguably one of the best books I have ever read, checking all my boxes (including ones I didn't even know I had). I don't think it's possible to praise it enough because it deserves it all. The wait I endured before I could read it was so worth it and I will be forever grateful for the sheer chance that it and it's author entered into my life. It shattered my high expectations and I will never be the same and couldn't be happier about it. Now, I still have to read the other books that Alex has written (and I will savor them like a piece of the finest of desserts and I haven't the slightest doubt, despite that I tend to be more on the quiet side, I will be absolutely mouthing off about them to anyone who will listen), but I want to specifically highlight their upcoming book, Running Close to the Wind (aka RCW). Because I was in their class and a part of their Discord, I have been treated to several chapters of the book and I can very firmly tell you that you need this in your life. It's terribly funny, utterly vibrant, very queer, full of gremlin chaos and pirate shenanigans, all good and wonderful things, right? I knew I needed it in my life half way through Alex reading chapter two to us. It comes out in June of this year and I so highly recommend you give it a look see. You can read an excerpt in the link below!

And if you too decide that you need this book in your life, go preorder it and then come join a Discord full of awesome queer pocket people that are also terribly excited for this book to be in our hands! I will also be posting fanart of ATOGAI and RCW if you also want to keep an eye on this little habitat of mine. :) Either way, best wishes and happy reading!

#a taste of gold and iron #running close to the wind #chantiverse #alexandra rowland #queer pirates #queer novel #queer author #fantasy #queer fantasy #blorbo #sorry I'm thinking about them again #morons with sauce #book #upcoming book #ATOGAI #RCW #gold and iron #tadek and the princess

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gothamite-rambler · 5 months ago

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Stephanie just seems like the type to accidentally do this

Stephanie calmly opened the door to Tim's bedroom at his apartment after letting herself in to ask him for something important.

Stephanie: Hey Tim, I need that fifty dollars you owe me. Hey Bernard.

Tim and Bernard were in the middle of a intimate moment, their bodies both sweaty, Tim taking Bernard from behind and their emotions equally shocked, mortified, and angry as they saw the indifferent Stephanie standing in front of them.

Stephanie (slightly intrigued but also impatient): Huh, that's what it looks like... So, anyways I need it in cash-

Tim angrily tossed a pillow at Stephanie, who blinked confused at why he did that. Tim adjusted his position to keep his member covered.

Tim: GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!

Stephanie: Dude why are you screaming, it's like one in the morning. You've got neighbors.

Bernard (covering his red face): Can you give us a minute?!

Tim: Probably five!

Stephanie (huffing annoyed): Okay, five minutes. I'm raiding your fridge while I wait. I need that money back.

Stephanie closed the door unaffected by walking in on her ex-boyfriend now friend having sex.

Tim: I- She-

Bernard (flustered): Yeah, you weren't kidding, but don't stop here.

As Tim and Bernard finished up, Stephanie chuckled as she headed to his kitchen.

Stephanie: That man acts like we haven't had sex and I haven't accidentally walked in on others.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a container with baked chicken in it.

Stephanie (while chewing on the chicken): Didn't think he'd be a top. Good for him.

Ten minutes later.

Stephanie: You guys said five minutes.

Tim shushed her, holding his head down and blushing a deep red. In a haste, he threw on a silk robe, which didn't make things less awkward for him, but Stephanie just kept eating the chicken.

Stephanie (chewing): Hey, this shizz is dry. You've got any hot sauce?

Tim pointed to the fridge.

Tim: Bottom shelf, moron.

Stephanie (opening the fridge and spotting the sauce): Who the heck puts hot sauce in a fridge?

Tim: Who fuck walks in on someone having sex?!

Stephanie (lightly adding sauce to the chicken): It's not like I haven't seen you naked before... so when you put it in-

Tim: Please stop bringing it up and give me a second to get my wallet.

Stephanie (giggling): Got it.

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striveattemptfail · 6 months ago

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maybe it's a little too early (to know if this is gonna work) | Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson, 5.2k, M

@poolverine-week: Day 6 – Sharing Clothes

Summary: Five times Wade steals wears Logan's clothes, and one time Logan wears Wade's suit. Rated for allusions to sex, but nothing explicit. Takes place some time after the movie’s events; assume Logan and Wade are back-up X-Men. Read on Ao3

A/N: Thank you to B @broosepayne for helping out with random details + thank you to @fuckselfloveihatemyself for suggesting "impersonation" for the final scene. Shout out to the Manga Hoes server for listening to me bitch about finishing this fic lol. Un-beta'd and I apologize /o\ Title from You Look Good In My Shirt by Keith Urban—just be grateful I didn't give this fic the exact same name lmaooo

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Nothing / Wearing Wade’s Clothes ]

The first morning he wakes up in Wade’s timeline—his new universe—Logan has on nothing but a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of highlighter pink Hello Kitty boxers. He desperately needs something to wear aside from what are basically undergarments because he came into this world with nothing but his X-Men suit.

Or what’s left of it anyway.

Which is why, once he finally gets up from the pull-out bed, he sees Wade trying on the jacket that the TVA gave him after they destroyed the Time Ripper. Wade is in front of the only full-size mirror in the apartment, twisting his body every which way to inspect the jacket.

Then, he catches Logan’s reflection in the mirror.

“Morning, peanut!” he greets, turning around to face him with a smile. “I’m trying this on to see how it fits on me.”

“Uh, yeah. I see that,” Logan says with brows furrowed. “Why?”

“I was thinking about grabbing you some clothes but need a reference for your size.”

“Bub, that jacket is too big even for me.”

“...okay, yeah,” Wade eventually concedes, “but it’s the only thing you own that isn’t shredded to pieces from the Time Ripper.”

Unfortunately, the moron has a point. As it is, the boxers Wade loaned him are a bit tight on his waist, and the collar of the shirt is snug on his neck, but it’s not like Logan’s in any position to complain.

“I have to swing by Target to grab supplies for Dogpool anyway,” Wade continues before making kissy faces at the dog in question. “We need to get you some treats, huh, little missy? Yeah! And then we’ll get honey badger some clothes that actually fit him!”

And, well, it’s not like Logan is keen on stepping outside of this apartment in the brightest colour he’s ever worn in his over 200-year existence. It’s also not like he even has the funds to buy himself a hotdog from the street vendor around the corner, much less purchase anything for a new wardrobe. So if Wade wants to go out and buy some clothes for him, Logan isn’t going to stop him.

He grunts his assent as he makes his way to the kitchen, muttering a gruff Fine as he starts on a cup of coffee.

Later, when Wade leaves for Target, Logan grabs the now tossed aside TVA jacket.

If he happens to take a sniff of it once Wade’s out the door (inhaling the scent of cloyingly sweet body wash, hot sauce, and something Logan is fast recognizing as Wade), it’s simply because he wants to know whether it already stinks after yesterday’s events.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: One Load of Staples ]

Luckily for Logan, Peter and Dopinder volunteered to help Wade clothes shop when he went to Target. Apparently, Wade wanted to buy all sorts of brightly coloured cutesy shit—like much of his own clothing, allegedly so the two of them could match—but Peter and Dopinder manage to rein him in and grab a few staples. T-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, boxers, socks, and a pair of shoes that’ll fall apart in about a month if Logan has to guess.

It’s enough for him to survive on until he can buy more clothes, and enough to produce a load of laundry once the day arrives. Luckily, the apartment has a washer-dryer combo in the unit, so he finishes the single, meagre load of clothes he owns in no time. He’s bringing them to the bedroom to put away when he finds Wade already inside, standing there in nothing but the smallest pair of tighty-whities Logan’s ever seen on a man.

“What the fuck,” is all he can say.

“Hey, honey badger!” Wade greets, normal as ever, as if he’s not exposing miles of skin and taut muscle that Logan would love to—

He messily dumps his clothes onto the bed, scowling at Wade.

“Why the fuck are you naked?” he demands.

“Oh, please, I’m hiding all the goods,” Wade brushes him off. He turns back to the heap of clothes on the hamper, presumably to find something that doesn’t smell like wet dog or weeks old nastiness.

Shit. The damn briefs aren’t even large enough to completely cover Wade’s ass, and Logan can see a hint of cheeks peeking through.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Logan rolls his eyes, hoping that his frown hides the conflict inside him.

With a smirk that can only spell trouble, Wade faces him again to thumb at the waistband of his underwear. “Would you rather I take them off?”

Logan snarls, averting his gaze to the small mound of clothes he has to put away. He angrily starts folding things, breath coming out in huffs that he hopes convey annoyance.

“Jeez, who pissed in your coffee this morning, kitty cat?” Wade complains, letting go of the waistband. “It’s not like I’m rubbing one out in front of you.”

“Shut the fuck up, bub,” Logan spits, throwing down another folded shirt.

The problem—like most things—is because of Wade.

It’s hard enough to share any amount of space with him, much less sleep in the same bed together every night, and Logan’s only a man. He might be too proud to admit it out loud (especially to a blabber mouth like Wade), but god fucking damnit somehow the fucker’s gotten under his skin. He makes Logan crave for more than innocently spooning in the early hours of the morning, want more than stolen glances when he thinks Wade isn’t looking.

It doesn’t help that Wade flirts with him constantly. People used to chastise Logan for how aggressively he pursued Jean back in the day. Now, he knows it’s nothing compared to the constant boner Wade has towards anything that speaks to him.

Logan needs to stop this train of thought—thinking about Wade’s boner is only going encourage his own.

“So, why are you naked?” he asks, probably angrier than acceptable for a conversation like this but, fuck, does Wade bring out the asshole in him.

“Technically, I’m not—”

“Fine, almost naked, you annoying prick.”

He looks up to find Wade with narrowed eyes, shooting him a dubious look that can only say, Are you serious?

“Obviooouslyyy,” he drawls out, rifling through the hamper again, “I thought I had more clothes left.”

Logan looks at the mountain Wade’s digging through. “Wait, you’re completely out of clean clothes? How the fuck did that happen?”

“I don’t know!” Wade throws his hands up in exasperation. “Ask the author!”

“I have no idea what that means,” he admits. “Anyway, why are you only in underwear?”

“What? You want me to steal some of Blind Al’s shit?” Wade pauses then, clearly mulling it over. “Actually, now that I think about it, her tracksuits would look great on me. They’d fit like baby clothes on a high schooler but it could be like a Y2K revival. Juicy Couture à la Wade. I’d smell like mothballs and old lady all day but it’d be worth it, I think!” He ends the rambling with a toothy grin.

Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response. He scrubs a hand over his face with a sigh.

“Just... put on some damn clothes, bub.”

“Fine.”

Wade—probably in an attempt to piss him the fuck off, as usual—stares at him with a piercing gaze, maintaining eye contact with Logan as he grabs a white t-shirt from the folded pile and slides it on.

Logan just glares at him, jaw clenching tight.

The worst part is that he’s not even mad that Wade’s grabbing shit that he just folded. For some fucking reason, there’s a small but very loud part of Logan deeply satisfied to see Wade in his clothes again. He hasn’t worn anything of Logan’s since trying on the TVA jacket that first day home, but seeing him in one of Logan’s tees is apparently doing something for him.

Wade spins in place, and Logan notices that the hem of the t-shirt barely covers Wade’s crotch, skims the peak of Wade’s pert ass. Once he faces Logan again, he pinches the sides of the shirt like he’s holding a skirt, dipping into a small curtsy.

“Is that better, oh, prudent majesty?” he taunts.

Logan finally snaps.

Before he’s even conscious of it, he’s striding over to where Wade is still staring at him, his expression turning confused though still playful.

“Woah, big boy, I didn’t think you’d be that pissed—”

Logan grabs his face and cuts him off with a kiss, Wade making a surprised noise against his mouth before finally kissing back. Even though Logan is leading, Wade still gives as good as gets, his tongue darting into the cavern of Logan’s mouth when he gasps for air. He’s not sure how long they suck face for, but when Logan finally pulls away, a satisfied noise rumbles through his chest at Wade’s stunned but amused face.

“Finally got you to shut up,” Logan teases, words coming out shallow and thin.

“Oh, it’ll take a lot more than that, old man,” Wade quips back, and another purr builds in Logan’s chest when he hears the gravel in Wade’s voice. Wade throws his arms over Logan’s shoulders and crashes their lips together again.

Neither of their laundry gets finished for a long while after that, both of them too caught up in seeking pleasure from each other. Most of Logan’s freshly laundered clothes lie wrinkled on the bed for hours until he remembers to put them away. Wade doesn’t even start on his own laundry until Logan tells him that Althea would definitely kick his ass if he wore her stuff.

But he continues wearing Logan’s shirt until his own clothes are finally clean, so Logan can’t complain at all.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Half Complete + A New Suit ]

They’re suiting up for an X-Men mission when Wade snatches the Wolverine cowl before Logan can put it on. He’s still in the middle of zipping up when he spots Wade grabbing it out of the corner of his eye, and he doesn’t even need to turn around to know that the dipshit’s already wearing it.

“Give it back,” he says absentmindedly, buckling in the last straps of his suit.

He turns around and shoots Wade a flat look, correct in his assumption that Wade put it on. Typical Wade, he’s wearing his Deadpool mask underneath the Wolverine cowl.

“How do I look?” Wade asks, voice lilting with anticipation.

He looks like someone threw up primary colours on his head and decided to call it a mask.

“You look like someone threw up primary colours on your head and decided to call it a mask.”

Wade gasps, clearly offended. “Rude!”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Just hand me my fuckin’ cowl, bub.”

“Mmmmm, no.”

He never makes shit easy. Logan can only sigh.

“Wade, we gotta leave for the mission brief,” Logan reminds him. They’re about to leave on time for once, and that never happens. “Gimme my goddamn cowl.”

Wade ignores him, as he often does, sauntering over to Logan with a sway in his hips, and Logan quirks a brow at him. He knows what that walk means, and suddenly heading to the X-Mansion for a mission is becoming the last thing on his mind.

Wade drapes his arms over Logan’s shoulders, and Logan automatically places his hands on Wade’s hips. Even beneath both masks, Logan can tell that Wade is waggling his non-existent eyebrows at him once they’re pressed close together. “Wanna inspect the wind resistance on these blowjob handles yourself, peanut?”

Logan snorts. “No, because I don’t wanna see my own mask sucking my dick.”

“Aww,” Wade whines, and Logan can hear the pout in his voice even if he can’t see it, “you’re no fun!”

“‘Sides,” Logan murmurs in his ear, low and sultry, as he pulls Wade closer, “I like seeing your face when we’re together, bub.”

He moves a hand from Wade’s waist to slightly lift his Deadpool mask at the collar. He then ducks his face into the curve where Wade’s neck meets shoulder, mouthing at the now exposed skin there. He smirks when he feels the catch in Wade’s throat.

“I thought we had to leave for the mission brief?” Wade mocks, but it comes out breathy and very pleased by the turn of events.

Logan hums mischievously, nipping at Wade’s neck. “Don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Cool cool cool,” Wade babbles, body pressing against Logan’s, all hot and eager. “I just—oh, fuck, honey badger—I was just thinking—”

“If yer thinking, then I ain’t doin’ this right,” he grumbles, words starting to slur together because there’s something else he’d much rather be doing with his mouth. The hand he still has on Wade’s waist travels to his crotch. Wade bucks his hips into Logan’s open palm with a husky groan, already half-hard.

“You’re doing everything so, so right,” Wade gasps, hips rutting into his grip. “It’s just—ngh—you better be the one taking off this suit, because I did not spend five whole minutes and half a thing of baby powder squeezing my ass into it just to—oh, shit!—strip it off again.”

With a final lick to his pulse point, Logan pulls away just enough to look at Wade. He smirks at the way Wade is panting, puffs of breath hitting his face in needy bursts despite the fabric covering Wade’s mouth.

“I gotta take off your clothes?” he confirms. Wade nods jerkily. “S’not a problem with me.”

And he drops to his knees, unbuckling Wade’s utility belt to do just that.

They do eventually get to the X-Mansion—just 30 minutes late, and they completely miss the briefing. Colossus looks at both of them in disappointment when he relays the abridged version of the mission objectives while they fly to their destination on the X-Jet. Frankly, Logan only half listens to the giant, completely unapologetic in his lack of focus. Being distracted is well worth it as he mulls over the events of the past hour.

Because Logan discovers that, while he might not get off on seeing his own cowl blowing him, he doesn’t mind when he’s on his knees looking up to see it thrown back in pleasure.

At least as long as Wade’s the one wearing it.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Signature Items Acquired ]

The next time they leave together, it’s to meet Vanessa and Dermot for bowling. Logan’s ready before Wade is, waiting in the living room because apparently how long it takes Wade to decide on an outfit completely depends on how he’s feeling.

Thankfully, today isn’t too awful. He’d only worn the Deadpool mask in the morning because he, quote, “felt like skewered chicken intestines,” and nearly cancelled on bowling altogether. But after an orgasm from Logan and cuddling from Mary Puppins, his mood had turned around.

All of which means that Wade is now in a mad dash pulling an outfit together. Logan knows better than to try and help him or force him to hurry up, so he’s left on the couch quietly grumbling to Mary about how he thinks Wade looks good in basically everything he wears.

He’s proven absolutely right when Wade finally steps out of the bedroom. Logan barely registers the full outfit because he’s completely focused on one item.

“How do I look?” Wade asks with a sly grin, walking over to the mirror to inspect himself. He twirls in front of his reflection while smoothing down the leather of the jacket he’s wearing.

Logan’s jacket.

He’s unable to put words together with the way his brain is currently short-circuiting. He grunts in response anyway, knowing that Wade will keep talking even if he doesn’t reply verbally.

He’s proven right yet again because Wade continues without missing a beat. “You think I should switch styles? Give yours back and get my own? Jackets aren’t really my thing though... Oh! What if I got a cape instead? It’d help for ‘no capes’ AUs to actually shed a cape, huh? Has there ever been a DP with a cape? I don’t remember seeing one when we fought the Corps.”

He hums a contemplative sound as Logan stands up from the couch, making his way over to Wade.

“Maybe I need to test trial this,” he continues to ramble, “maybe I can borrow Cable’s shawl-cape thing!”

Even Logan is surprised when he immediately interrupts Wade’s babbling with a stern: “No.”

Wade’s eyes snap to his, confused by the sudden harshness and increased volume in his tone. He makes a questioning noise and shoots Logan a displeased look.

Remembering that Wade will only ramp up how annoying he is if Logan bosses him around, he shakes his head and tries again. “I mean, just—you can, uh, keep mine.”

He clears his throat, eyes darting away to take in how the jacket fits on Wade. It’s a little loose on him, a little too broad because Logan’s chest is a bit wider than his, but it sits well on his frame nonetheless. After awkwardly patting Wade on the shoulder, Logan’s hand slides to Wade’s bicep, then down to cuff where Logan thumbs at the leather there. His fingers bump Wade’s hand and he feels electrified by the touch.

When their eyes meet again, Logan’s relieved to find Wade’s face as red as his own cheeks feel. He’s not entirely sure who leans in first but their lips meet halfway. The kiss isn’t demanding or dirty, neither of them trying to turn it into something that would lead to sex for once. It’s different from when they usually make out, just soft and lingering, and Wade gasps when Logan’s tongue gently licks at the seam of his lips.

At some point, they wrap their arms around each other, because when they finally part for air Wade’s cupping Logan’s jaw and his hands are on the small of Wade’s back.

He eventually grumbles out, “Keep it, it suits you.”

“Oh.”

It takes a moment for Wade to shake the dazed look off his face, but he recovers by flashing Logan a knowing grin. Logan rolls his eyes fondly.

Of course, the little shit did it on purpose. He should’ve known the moment Wade stepped out with that giant smile.

Afterwards, when they finally meet with Vanessa and Dermot at the bowling alley, Vanessa’s smirk and raised eyebrow are well worth it because Wade keeps the jacket on.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Full Closet ]

Logan’s been gone for almost a month because of an extended X-Men mission. Between stakeouts, recon, strategizing, and actually nabbing the bad guy, it’s the longest he’s been away since Wade and Althea’s apartment became his home.

He walks in and unceremoniously dumps his duffle bag and the rest of shit by his shoes, throwing his keys on the sidetable by the door. Despite it being well into the afternoon, the apartment is surprisingly quiet. He figures Althea is out for “bingo” (likely a coke exchange) but Wade and Mary Puppins’ lack of noise makes him suspicious.

Until he hears the snoring.

He pads over to the pull-out bed to find Wade and Mary napping together. Wade’s curled around her, snoring with his face buried in her very sparse amount of fur, and Mary’s tongue sticks out as she huffs out quiet, little snuffles of her own.

But what catches Logan’s attention is Wade wearing one of his flannels.

It’s one of the thickest he owns, made for colder weather and blistery autumn breezes, a dusty yellow and blue with snap buttons. It’s large on him—like everything else Logan owns whenever Wade wears his clothes—but this particular flannel is loose on Logan, so the fabric almost drowns Wade in a pattern of faded checks.

And like every time the moron steals his crap to wear, Logan’s stomach flips in a way he can no longer ignore.

He’s not sure if they’re exclusive or not. They fall into bed together as easily as they fight side-by-side on missions. But it’s impossible for Logan to tell if Wade is serious about half the flirtations streaming out of his mouth when the idiot’s easy affection gets directed at anyone that looks at him twice.

And as much as he’s loathe to admit it, Logan wants so much more than that. He wants Wade’s lingering looks to mean something other than platonic nothings. He wants the softer kisses they share to be more than a break from sex. He wants Wade to need him the way Logan needs him. Hell, he wants Wade to annoy him in ways that Wade would never bother anyone else, because at least then Logan would know that he means something different to the motherfucker, something more than a roommate he hooks up with.

He wants just Wade, all of him, full stop.

He gingerly sits on the mattress, trying not to jostle the two napping Deadpools too much with his weight, and he reaches over to gently stroke Wade’s cheek with a thumb. Feeling emboldened when Wade doesn’t stir, he leans down to press his lips onto Wade’s forehead.

“Well, g’morning to y’too, honey badger,” Wade slurs at him, voice thick with sleep.

Logan abruptly jerks away, eyes wide, and the movement is enough to jostle Mary Puppins from her slumber. She hops off to nap in her own bed after a grumpy growl, leaving Wade alone on the mattress. He attempts to swallow the sudden lump in his throat before clearing it with a cough.

“S’four in the afternoon,” Logan mumbles. Pinching his lips into a flat line, he awkwardly sits next to Wade rustling around in the sheets. His eyes catch the flannel falling open to reveal that Wade is also wearing one of his tank tops.

Logan takes a deep, stuttering breath.

Eyes still closed, Wade blindly flaps his hand around until finding purchase on Logan’s shirt. He tugs Logan back down, and Logan curls over to kiss him softly.

“Welcome home, peanut,” Wade breathes onto his lips. “Missed you.”

He touches his nose to Wade’s. “Missed ya too, bub.”

Wade’s face splits into a slow, easy grin, pulling Logan into laying down. Logan follows him without a thought, gathering Wade into his arms.

“You’re wearin’ my clothes again,” he whispers.

Wade hums, nuzzling into his chest. “S’cold, and it smells like you.”

A pleased purr escapes Logan before he has a chance to stop it, and Wade giggles at him, kissing his collarbone before falling right back to sleep.

They don’t talk about what they are after that, but it’s at that moment when Logan finally realizes that maybe, somehow, Wade feels the same way about him too.

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

[ Wardrobe Status: Wearing Wade’s Clothes (Again) ]

The TVA brings them in because they need help with some lady going after Deadpool variants. It would be a fruitless endeavour since Deadpools can’t die (well, except Nicepool) if it weren’t for the fact that the fucker apparently stole a weapon that disintegrates things to oblivion.

“Shouldn’t the law of physics stop that from happening?” Wade asks, gesturing at the screen when B-15 presents the mission to them. “‘Matter can’t be created or destroyed’ or something like that?”

“That’s energy, idiot,” Logan corrects him.

Wade just shrugs. “Hey, don’t blame me for failing physics twice!”

He turns to Wade with a confused grimace. “Who else would I blame then?”

“The teachers, duh!”

“Anyway,” B-15 interrupts, hitting a button to show another slide, “this variant’s got a fascination for destroying the indestructible, but she’s going after Deadpools because she has tritanopia, or blue-yellow colour blindness. She can see shades of red the easiest, hence, sticking with Deadpools as her target.”

“That’s so stupid,” Wade says and Logan can only agree. “There are, like, dozens immortal superheroes in red and she chooses li’l ole me? Seems like the writer copping out of coming up with a better plot, I-M-O.”

“We also believe Mary was double-crossed by the Deadpool in her timeline, giving further motive to go after his variants.”

“Hmph! Now isn’t that just convenient?” He crosses his arms. “Wait, ‘Mary’?”

“Yes.” B-15 shows another slide, this one a close-up of the woman—Mary’s—face. “She’s a Typhoid Mary variant. Have either of you encountered her before?”

“Not in my world,” Logan answers.

“I admittedly did not keep up with Netflix’s Daredevil long enough to meet Bloody Mary, no,” Wade says.

B-15 presents them with further details: Typhoid Mary’s known abilities and weaknesses; how she has dissociative identity disorder on top of her colour blindness; how she managed to acquire the worst weapon available from the arms dealers she was supposed to take down; how her alter apparently took over and decided to go after invincible mutants until she finally got even with her world’s Deadpool. The TVA did try to intervene, but she ended up killing every agent that went after her before stealing one of their TemPads and consequently going on her multiversal manhunt. B-15 makes it absolutely clear how imperative it is that they do not kill Mary or destroy the weapon so the TVA can keep them both under tabs.

Then, she reveals the TVA’s plan to capture her: They want Logan to pose as a Deadpool variant in the timeline they believe she’s going to strike next. Typhoid Mary’s current M.O. doesn’t account for superstrength so he should be able to break out of anything she traps him in. Meanwhile, Wade will be in the shadows, using a tranquillizer gun to incapacitate her once she’s busy with Logan.

Logan groans internally while Wade claps his hands in delight.

“Ooh!” he practically squeals, patting Logan on the shoulder with unrestrained excitement. “Finally, it’s my turn on the other side of this trope!”

B-15 shakes her head and sends them on their way.

The suit the TVA provides him fits perfectly, and he notes Wade’s heated, lingering gaze on him once he steps out of the dressing room. Luckily, another agent gets them through a portal before Wade starts on a tirade that would no doubt be filled with inappropriate innuendoes about Logan.

The mission is executed almost laughably easy. Typhoid Mary’s telekinetic and telepathic abilities are so low-level Logan’s shocked that the others she went after were able to be taken down so quickly.

(“Plot armour, peanut,” Wade said when Logan had asked B-15 about this. “She needed to last long enough to meet us!” As usual, Logan had chosen to ignore him.)

Like the TVA discovered, she lures Deadpools by spreading rumours he can’t ignore, adding a honeypot stash filled with weapons he loves. Geared up in Wade’s suit, Logan “falls” for her trap: entering an abandoned warehouse meant to shelter an upcoming gang targeting Deadpool, but secretly only houses her. Once Logan finds the crate of weapons meant to entice Wade, Typhoid Mary wastes no time in capturing him. She points a giant ray-gun of sorts at his face after wrapping him in the warehouse’s chains with her telekinesis.

He feels the faintest compulsion to stay still, which is probably her telepathy trying to subdue him. But she’s nowhere near the level of other telepaths Logan’s encountered, like Jean or Cassandra Nova, and the compulsion is easy to ignore. The chains are slightly harder to deal with in comparison, but he’s certain he can get out of them without too much trouble. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Wade moving into place.

During Logan’s silent assessment of the situation, Typhoid Mary apparently began monologuing. He doesn’t let her get a chance to finish though, breaking out of the bonds around his torso with sheer force and grunting at the exertion. He slices the chains around his ankles with his claws, the metal cutting like butter against the adamantium.

“What?!” she screams. “A Wolverine-Deadpool variant? How?!”

Logan doesn’t even open his mouth for a reply because Wade shoots a tranq dart in her neck. She falls to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Wooh! No scope oneshot K/O, baby!” he hollers, skipping over to pick up the weapon Typhoid Mary dropped. “God, I’d love to take this home with us,” he bemoans as he assesses it, “I can finally stick it to Cable and show off my own badass, futuristic gun!”

“That won’t be necessary,” B-15 announces, suddenly next to them. A group of armed TVA agents begin to file in from the portal behind her, a few of them attempting to grab the weapon from Wade while others lift Typhoid Mary away for custody.

The aftermath of the mission would be just as easy if isn’t for Wade bitching about giving up the gun. After B-15 debriefs them, she and Logan spend entirely too long demanding that Wade hand it to her.

“I’ll give it back if we can keep this suit for pookie here,” Wade eventually offers, pointing at Logan.

“What?” Logan asks. The suit’s not bad but he has no reason to wear it again once he takes it off. “Why—?”

“Deal,” B-15 immediately agrees.

Wade begrudgingly relinquishes the gun, giving it a flying kiss goodbye before taking Logan’s hand. B-15 opens a portal to their apartment and guides them through. “Thanks for the help, gentlemen!” she says, waving a hand at them. They both wave back, and the portal closes.

Logan looks down at the Deadpool suit he’s still wearing. “Why the hell did you want—mmph!”

His lips are suddenly bombarded with hot kisses, and he growls when Wade opens his mouth his tongue. He didn’t even notice that Wade took off his mask.

“God, you look so fucking good in my colours,” Wade moans, hands roaming all over Logan’s body. “Is this how you feel whenever I wear your things?” Logan makes a noise of assent, too busy mouthing at Wade’s jaw to give a proper answer. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Logan starts moving them towards the bed—Christ, he hopes Althea is gone because there’s no way he’s stopping what Wade’s started. His cock is already taking interest, and only gets harder when Logan bumps his hips into Wade’s. They tumble onto the pull-out in a feverish heat with Logan straddling Wade’s thighs.

He’s licking at Wade’s pulse when the dumbass gasps, “Oh my god, I’m gonna fuck a variant of myself.”

Used to Wade’s non-stop yammering even during sex, Logan mindlessly replies, “‘S still me, bub, I ain’t a variant of you.” Foolishly, he adds, “Besides, that’d be weird.”

“What? Why?”

With Wade groping his ass, Logan actually has to pause getting his hands under Wade’s suit to think about an answer.

He finally lands on: “It’d be like fucking your own clone.”

Wade actually stops everything he’s doing—hands no longer kneading his cheeks, mouth pulling away from him. Logan groans, knowing his brought this on himself, and dips his forehead to rest on Wade’s shoulder.

“What? You wouldn’t?”

“No, because that’s weird.”

“I’d fuck my clone.”

“Course you would.”

“T-B-H, I’m so pro-clone fucking I’d just have an orgy with all of them. Who’d be better to fuck me than me, right?”

This, by far, is one of—if not the—stupidest conversation Logan’s ever had with a person. Somehow, his dick doesn’t flag, and he’s still irrevocably fond of Wade’s random chatter. He kisses Wade before he can start on another tangent, cupping his perfect idiot’s face softly.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, but knowing the smile he’s got on, Wade isn’t going to listen to him.

Wade’s answering smirk is a challenge. “Make me, peanut.”

——————————————

(More notes on Ao3.)

#poolverine week 2024 #poolverine week #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #dp&w #deadpool #wolverine #poolverine #peanutbub #deadclaws #wolverpool #wade wilson #logan howlett #hunter b-15 #judge b-15 #jercy attempts words #fanfic #.i swear i wanted to post this on time for day 6 but time is a construct that i do not follow (ie: i messed up my dates lsdfjjlfsdjlkdfs)#.oh well better late than pregn—i mean never LMFAO

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conarcoin · 2 years ago

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mcyt character archetypes. feel free to add

The German Redstone Guy (HC!Doc, SMPL!Dinkster)

The Gay Capitalist (Sips, SMPL!Schlatt, HC!Scar, HC!Keralis)

The Deadly Moron (SMPL!Cooper, SMPE!Deo, QSMP!Etoiles, LS!Mapicc)

The Cannibal (DSMP!Quackity, Rust!Tubbo, Fuga!Cellbit)

The Different Brain Sauce Guy (DSMP!Tubbo, QSMP!BBH, SMPL!Travis)

The Cult Guy (DSMP!BBH, SMPL!Ted)

The Acceptable Bullying Target (SMPL!Joko, SMPE!Icebomb, Traffic!Jimmy)

The Small And Shitty (SMPL!Connor, SMPE!Tommy, HC!Grian)

#mcyt #mcytblr #hermitcraft #dream smp #qsmp #smplive #smpearth #im not tagging everything

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 months ago

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I ordered a pizza for dinner, half olive and half pepperoni. When I went to pick it up, it was half olive and half cheese, so I went back inside to ask for a replacement. The cashier looked at me with such loathing, such contempt, and spoke to me as if I were a 5-year-old, "they're on the bottom." What? Turns out that, upon closer inspection, my pizza did in fact have pepperonis on it, but they were UNDER the cheese. I didn't notice because the only ones that were peaking out were near the edge and just looked like sauced on the crust. I felt like a moron, but I don't think it was unreasonable for me to ask about it. How was I supposed to know? The olives were on top like normal, so why would the pepperoni be underneath the cheese? What is this, Chicago?

#pizza

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deputyrook · 6 months ago

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Prompt Fill- Lucanis/Rook, Fluff Drabble⭐

Word count: 622

---

With a metal spoon, Rook scraped across the bottom of the skillet as she attempted to stir their dinner. Something had gone horribly wrong. The food was quickly solidifying into a layer of crust, and panic was beginning to set in, especially when she thought of the incredible Arroz Con Pollo Lucanis had made the night before.

Why had she tried to impress him, picking a recipe she'd only made a few times before? This was no doubt going to have the opposite effect. He was going to think she was a moron.

"This is so fucked," Rook whispered, with mounting dread. The bubbling sauce was beginning to look more like hot tar than anything edible.

As is sensing the violence being done in the kitchen, Lucanis' head popped out of the pantry door to stare at her in horror.

"Are you using metal utensils on our only good skillet?" Lucanis asked, sounding physically wounded.

"Uhm," Rook replied with a wince, "Well, I'm not sure the wooden utensils would have been able to...make a dent in this."

Lucanis' eyes widened. He made his way across the dining room faster than Rook had thought possible, stopping dead in his tracks a few feet away from the stove. He stared at the monstrosity in the pan, and then at Rook.

"What... are you making?" He asked, voice tight, as though afraid of the answer.

"It was supposed to be pineapple, chicken and rice. But something went wrong with the sauce- maybe it was because we didn't have cornstarch, so I substituted in flour. But I think I used too much, because it's so thick it's becoming, like, some kind of quiche," As Rook rambled, Lucanis approached cautiously, to stand beside her and look upon the nightmare she'd created.

"Mierda, there's chicken in there?"

Rook smacked him lightly on the shoulder, turning off the burner. Taking the food (?) off the heat, and pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed, avoiding Lucanis' eyes.

"Maybe we can save it?" She suggested hopefully, sneaking a glance at Lucanis. He made an offended noise of protest before he could stop himself. "Okay," she said, "Maybe we can't save it."

"Rook, I appreciate your determination, but there's no saving this," He murmured, turning to her, "I think I would rather eat something cooked for me by Viago."

"Maker, don't sugarcoat it," She snapped, but when she looked at him, Lucanis was staring at the pan, with his hand covering his mouth. At first she thought he was so offended by the mess, and the potential ruination of the skillet, that he was stunned into silence. But just as Rook opened her mouth to apologized, she saw Lucanis' shoulders start to shake.

He was laughing. And trying to hide it, poorly.

"It's not funny," She protested weakly, "I really tried," which elicited a bark of laughter from Lucanis. As he devolved into snickers, Rook couldn't help but chuckle herself- mostly from relief, that he wasn't put off by her inability to cook, or the strange chunky puddle which was supposed to be dinner.

Shaking his head, and still smiling, Lucanis started to bustle around the kitchen. With the same efficiency that he used as an assassin, he began to pull out various meats, bowls, and spices.

"What're you doing?" She asked, as Lucanis scooted around her to grab a pot.

"Making us something else. Come, you can help. I'll teach you," His smile was so fond, so gentle, that Rook couldn't help but feel warmed by it. Rolling her sleeves back up, she gave him a professional nod, moving to stand beside him.

"Alright," She murmured to him, "One sous-chef, reporting for duty."

And that's how the cooking lessons between Rook, Lucanis, (and occasionally Bellara) began.

#lucanis dellamorte #my writing #dav #dragon age #prompt fill

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Staking My Claim Part 6

And here we are! The end of this sweet little story. I had a blast writing it and I enjoyed all the comments and tags. Thank you so much.

We get to the "is this set after canon or a no monster AU *shrugs* could be either" part of the story.

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3| Part 4|Part 5

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

When he woke up next it was dark out and his stomach was growling. As he sat up he could smell the warm heat of something cooking in the kitchen. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He knew he should brush his teeth and he vaguely remembered Eddie saying something about a spare around here somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. And he really, really didn’t want to go rummaging through the drawers.

He gave up and decided to do it after dinner and have Eddie show him where it was.

He ran his fingers through his hair to tame the tousled look to something more respectable. He really didn’t think it worked. He had slept with it wet and it would take getting it wet and washed before he could properly tame it.

Jeff grinned at him when he came stumbling out. “Just in time, man. Eddie’s making his famous spaghetti.”

“It smells heavenly,” he murmured.

“Just wait ‘til you taste it, Stevie,” Eddie said with a wide, happy smile. “It’ll blow your mind.”

Steve blushed. “You didn’t have to wait for me to eat, I could have reheated leftovers or something.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a grin.

“This is when we usually eat,” Jeff explained. “We were working on a song for our band earlier.”

“I’m our lyricist,” Eddie said. “Jeff is the composer. He takes my silly little words and turns them into songs.”

Steve nodded. “And you guys play at Cora’s Den?”

“The Hideout and Alleyways, too,” Jeff confirmed. “But yeah, Cora’s Den is our main spot though, which is why Mrs. Hughes pays for this apartment for us to stay at when we’re here.”

“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that Gareth’s parents are rich enough to afford a three bedroom apartment in the middle of Indy for you guys to crash at whenever you want,” Steve admitted. “My parents would never do that.”

Eddie shrugged. “We knew Gareth’s family had money when he first started playing with us. No poor schmuck living in Forest Hills was going to buy their ten year old a drum kit and remain sane.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “We just didn’t know how much until he offered his parent’s garage to practice in. That place has better acoustics then most bars we’ve played in.”

“Just what do his parents do?” Steve asked in awe.

“They run those fancy boutiques for pets,” Eddie said. “They have five shops around the country. Here in Indy, Chicago, New York, LA...and what’s the other one?”

“Miami,” Jeff said.

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s it! They charge hundreds of dollars for rich morons to make their pets as pampered as possible.”

“That explains more than it doesn’t,” Steve sneered. “My parents hate animals. The thought of a pet treated better than they treat their own son would have driven them crazy.”

“Not even a goldfish in the Harrington household?” Jeff asked, cocking his head to the side.

Steve laughed bitterly. “And have the water spill on the perfect hardwood floors? Not likely.”

“Even I had a hamster at one point,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You are seriously missing out.”

“I’m hoping when I get a place of my own I’ll be able to get a cat,” he confessed.

“Aww...” Eddie said. “What kind?”

Steve shrugged. “Probably a rescue.”

Jeff and Eddie smiled softly.

“Sounds good, Steve,” Jeff murmured.

“Food is done!” Eddie said with a flourish. “Spaghetti in meat sauce.” He blinked for a moment. “You’re not vegetarian are you?”

Steve laughed. “No. You probably missed me tucking into the bacon and sausage for breakfast.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Oh right.”

He dished out the food on three plates and handed one to each of Jeff and Steve before grabbing his own plate and sitting on the other side of Steve.

They tucked into their meals and ate quietly. A testament to how good it tasted.

For Steve, it was warm and hearty, filling a void he didn’t know he had. Even when he was in high school, he didn’t have a lot of guy friends and while he loved the Party with all his heart, it wasn’t the same as hanging out with people his age.

Once they were done, Jeff did dishes. Eddie led him over to their large fluffy sofa.

Steve settled in, curled up to Eddie’s side as he talked with Jeff about the new song.

It had been so long since he felt this safe. Like if he drifted off to sleep right now, he would be protected.

And wasn’t that just something.

Eddie’s voice broke through his revery. “Hey, sweetheart. I think you’re falling asleep again.”

“Being drugged sucks.”

Jeff laughed. “It sounds like you’ve been drugged more than once, man.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other, then Steve winced.

“I may have angered a couple of Russian officers when I accidentally stumbled on their very illegal operation under the Starcourt Mall?” he said through gritted teeth.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Considering how messed up Hawkins is, nothing surprises me anymore.”

Eddie and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“You’ve got that right,” Eddie said. “Come on, darlin’, let’s get you to bed.”

They got ready for bed and Steve finally got that toothbrush to brush his teeth. He washed his face and Eddie led him back to his bedroom.

Once Steve had gotten comfortable, he pulled Eddie to him before he could protest.

“You’re mine now,” Steve murmured happily. “I licked you. Remember?”

Eddie chuckled. “I guess finder’s keepers. I’ll happily be yours.”

They curled up on the bed and slept soundly knowing that they were heading back to Hawkins with more then the hookup they assumed it was going to be when Eddie first came to his aid.

And Steve couldn’t have been happier.

He was going to have to do something really nice for Robin as a thank you.

As he was falling to sleep, he felt Eddie lick the side of his face. He giggled and pressed their lips together. Eddie hummed happily.

“Love you, Stevie.”

“Love you, too, Eds.”

***

And if you saw this on Saturday, no you didn't. I hit post instead of schedule and it was not meant for human eyes yet.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @hellfireone @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @f0xxyb0xxes @jamieweasley13 @r0binscript @confuseddisastertm @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @dissociatingdemon @dragonmama76

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #corroded coffin

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xotication · 11 months ago

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can u do gamer!kaneki and reader doing a stream where it’s just them goofing off and doing random stuff? like reader does his makeup on stream, smash or pass w anime characters, etc. ofc if you’d like !! thank u ♡

of course! sorry this took so long :(

☆,

as you know, kaneki has been streaming for a while now. his viewers love him, but they also love you! he’s starting to think he can’t have one stream where they’re not begging him to bring you in.

eventually you become a reoccurring guest, no matter what is is you two are doing.

his viewers eventually give you guys ideas of some silly things to do.

like one time you guys had to remake peoples instagram stories. you guys would just scroll thru your mutuals stories & randomly click on one.

it left you guys posting some corny couple photos, random fit checks, your attempts at some of the fancy dinners they were eating, or even random videos between them & their friends.

another time, the viewers begged & BEGGED the two of you to play smash or pass & it was the funniest thing ever.

“okok. uhm, smash or pass satoru gojo”

“smash.”

“hello??”

“what- i can’t smash gojo but you can?? he’s my glorious blue eyed king!”

“YOUR?! ken baby, he doesn’t even know who you ARE!”

“just shhh..”

“ok wtv. smash or pass eren jaeger”

“pass..”

“smash.”

“excuse me? didn’t he commit like every war crime.. ever?”

“ok & he was sexy while doing it all.”

“is that what i have to do for you..?”

“absolutely.”

“you were supposed to say no….”

“oh-”

this continued with a plethora of people & by the end of it, you guys were questioning each other so hard.

some of your guys’ other friends got wrapped into the content. one night you called up hide to test his loyalty.

“uhm- hey hide. is kaneki there with you? he said he’d be hanging out with you, but i haven’t heard from him in hours.”

hide literally requests to facetime you & walks you throughout his whole house to show no signs of kaneki. manz was playing NO games. & kaneki was so heartbroken.

“bro how’re you gonna expose me like that?!”

“bc if you’re cheating on your girl, i’m not gonna help you cover that shit up. be a man, moron”

“ok chill. i didn’t even cheat”

“yeah +10k aura for hide..”

“ok i’m hanging up wtf”

you ended up asking ken if you guys could do a cooking and/or baking stream. but without a recipe, he agrees & this makes for the most viral stream yet.

you have hide and ayato there to let you guys know how much time there is left, to referee the whole situation, & ofc to judge the food

you’re instructed to make pasta, FROM SCRATCH.

things start off well, but when you take a bathroom break, kaneki ends up sabotaging your dish.

he’s adding in a lil bit too much salt to your pasta sauce, & tasting it makes his whole face scrunch up.

when you come back, hide looks so guilty. like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to see. which was of course, the underlying truth. all the while ayato was there, pokerfaced.

noticing this, you immediately assume ken is suspicious, “kaneki what’d you do.”

“what?? nothing.”

“hide is he lying.”

“i dunno”

“you were here the whole time?! ‘wdym i dunno’ you do know!”

“no i don’t?!”

you decide to let it go.

the whole process is chaotic, but fun. by the time it’s ready for judging, you & kaneki were both stressed out.

making noodles from SCRATCH without a recipe isn’t an easy task.

ken’s plate looked like mario & luigi threw it up, while yours looked like a penguin just regurgitated it to its baby.

you guys place the plates on the dinner table & you sit across from ayato & hide.

“alright chat. the foods done, looking rather.. interesting. i’m a little hesitant & scared to consume this but, we move”

“shall we?” ayato hands hide a fork & they both take a bite from ken’s dish first.

“uh- okay. i mean it’s definitely food. definitely a plate of food, i think” hide speaks first.

& ayato follows up with, “this is awful, ken”

kaneki gasps, almost as if hurt by the words, “okay then try y/n’s!”

& when they do, they’re pleasantly surprised. hide was expecting it to be salty as FUCK. but of course you peeped the chat saying how much salt ken had added. so you just added a shit ton of tomato sauce to even it all out. & it made for a yummy dish!

“this is decent! it’s not the greatest ever, but it’s also not the worst. definitely better than kaneki’s. the noodles are bit easier to chew & the sauce is almost normal”

“so did i win” you asked & ken looked so defeated in his seat..

“uhm. no you didn’t win. rightfully so, anyway.” ayato informs him & you jump for joy!

“you shouldn’t have tried to sabotage me, ken”

“how’d you even know?!”

lastly, one day you were super bored. you didn’t even plan on getting in stream with ken. you kinda just wanted to chill that day. but you chilled too hard. now you were literally doing nothing.

you put your phone down & wiped your eyes after scrolling through tiktok for what felt like hours.

“what to do, what to do” you said to yourself.

an idea clicks & you quickly jumped from your bed to make way to your closet.

you're putting on a cute dress & getting ready for, well, nothing at all. but it's all part of the plan. ken is so wrapped up in his gaming that he takes no notice of you at all. you're at your vanity pulling together the last pieces of your look.

even chat notices before your own boyfriend does, they're thinking ken has to leave soon because you guys are going somewhere but that's not at all the case.

you're stood by the bedroom door, all dolled up & pretty. "okay ken, i'm gonna go to target!" he looks back at you for a quick second & then back at his monitor.

"okay, see you later, love you!"

you walk out the room & ken is reading his chat. "target.. in that outfit?" "bro is not going to target" "bro didn't even see what his girl was wearing" "ken.. she said target, not the red carpet"

finally ken takes a second to picture what it was you were wearing again, & he gets up so fast he almost falls.

mans literally sprints out the room, out the house, & finds you sitting in your car. when you saw him, the last thing you had expected him to do was remove you from the car, & throw you over his shoulder but that's exactly what he does.

ken carries you all the way to the bedroom & throws you on the bed. stream STILL going btw.

"change."

is all he says before he's sat back in his chair, queuing into another game.

most of the girls in the chat are going crazy, rightfully so tbh.

ken looked back at you to see if you had listened, & when he saw you on the bed, still just laying there.. he wasted no time ending the stream.

he began to undress you himself. took off his own shirt, pulled it over your head, & then he took you to the bathroom to help wash your makeup off.

"going to target my fucken ass."

blehhhhhhh

#anime #kaneki x reader #fanfic #manga #tokyo ghoul #kaneki ken #headcannons #fluff #tokyo ghoul re #xoti writes

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