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zepskies · 4 days ago

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Headcanon: Flirting (And Jealousy)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Russell Shaw x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @lacilou. And surprise! For the first time, I'm trying out adding Russell Shaw to the lineup because I thought he'd be an interesting addition for this prompt. 💜

Prompt: How would Dean, Ben & Beau react to either other men flirting with us or them obliviously/cluelessly letting other women flirt with them? And how we would react to them -- like how they'd make it up to us, their excuses, etc.

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw would react to someone flirting with you. (And others flirting with them.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, oblivious flirting, unwanted advances, jealousy, some toxic masculinity (you know Ben 🙄), but ultimately lots of fluff, and some spice too.~

Dean Winchester

Dean isn't one to get jealous...at first.

He knows you're hot as hell. He pretty much expects guys to try and shoot their shot.

Plus, he's secure enough in his relationship with you to know you wouldn't consciously entertain someone who's flirting with you.

He also knows you're strong enough to take care of yourself, even with a persistent asshole.

However.

The second a man gets into your face or tries to put his hands on you, Dean's stepping in -- either to twist the man's arm nearly out of its socket, or deliver a swift punch between the eyes, or his personal favorite, grabbing the back of the guy's neck and slamming his face onto the counter.

Dean finds the sound of bone breaking against varnished wood, followed closely by the heavy tripping thud of a body to the floor, deeply satisfying.

You heave a sigh. Not because you're all that annoyed at Dean, but because you tried to warn the guy.

Now, Dean knows he used to be...well, a "ladies man," putting it mildly. He's improvised more panty-dropping one-liners than a Magic Mike stripper. His success rate is 9-and-10 (because there's always room for improvement).

He directs all that flirtatious, playful, sexual energy on you. He's fallen for you, committed to you, and once he makes a decision with his heart, Dean Winchester doesn't have an unfaithful bone in his body.

However.

He can't altogether stop women from flirting with him. Like at one of the many diners you, Sam, and Dean stop to eat at after a hunt.

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" the waitress says. She brushes her hand up his arm and squeezes his shoulder, giving Dean a too-bright smile that leaves nothing to the imagination (at least to you).

He smiles back at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

It's like a reflex. He thinks he's being polite. He doesn't even follow the path of her hip-swaying walk with his eyes -- like he certainly would've before he met you.

You still stare at Dean incredulously. When the woman walks away, he smiles at you as if nothing happened. Sam wisely keeps to himself and sips his beer, hiding a smirk.

Dean notices the way your lips are pursed, bitchface activated. "What?" he asks.

You cross your arms. "Really?"

He frowns. "What's the matter?"

"Really. You need me to tell you not to let that woman eye-fucking you to put her hands all over you?" You shake your head. More dryly you add, "Right in front of me, too. I gotta give it to her, she's got brass balls."

Dean is bewildered, but then he replays the moment in his head and realizes that you're right. He kinda fucked up.

He sees the way you're getting all testy, and he has to chuckle.

"Okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. My bad."

He reaches for your hand and manages to uncross your arms. You're stubborn in your irritation, but Dean is the king of persuasion, giving you teasing, flirty bedroom eyes and waggling brows as he pulls you towards him.

If you're still reluctant to soften, he adds, "Come on, don't be a sourpuss. Come 'ere."

Eventually he breaks you, making you laugh and hit his arm with no real force behind it.

Even Sam shakes his head, seeing how his brother manages to pacify you by sliding his arm around your shoulders across the booth. Dean leans in and kisses along your neck. He inhales your scent and hums in pleasure.

Sam clears his throat. He has to awkwardly look away.

"Gonna forgive me?" Dean asks, his lips moving against your skin. "Though I gotta admit, I kinda like it when you're jealous. All growly and fiesty. Got myself a little tiger."

You roll your eyes, but your lips tug at a smile. Your face warms in a blush, especially as his hand wanders under your jacket and teasingly up your side.

You slip your fingers into his hair, making sure to give a sharp little tug on it for good measure. He just laughs.

Oh, you'll forgive him, but maybe you'll make him do a little more penance when you all get back home.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a jealous man from the onset when a man flirts with you.

His lips purse, his jaw clicks, and he keeps a firm eye on the situation. He doesn't like it.

But to his credit, he tries not to act on it right away, letting you handle it the way you want to.

However, like Dean, the moment someone gets into your personal space or tries to touch you, he's pulling out some Sheriff moves.

If the man grabs at you, Beau's got his arm twisted behind his back so fast, he can almost feel ligaments popping. Beau gives a calm, but firm warning before sending the guy on his way. (He'd like to do more, but the department frowns on excessive violence.)

Maybe part of you gets annoyed at the show of jealousy, but a larger part of you can't help but be turned on when he protects you. You know it's not because he thinks you need protecting, but because he wants to.

"Can't help it, darlin'," he's said. "It's just how I was raised."

But you're the one that bristles when Danielle, a PTA mom at Emily's school, flirts with him. She laughs at his corny jokes with her white teeth and her perfectly layered and coiffed blonde hair.

She even gives him an extra cookie from her offering at the school's bake sale. (She knows what most of this town knows -- that the way to the Sheriff's heart is all too often through his stomach.)

Beau just nods along, smiling polite with that charming grin of his, totally oblivious while he eats. The last straw for you is when she wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Your mouth falls open in shock. "Are you shitting me?"

You accidentally say it out loud, earning not only your boyfriend's surprised look, but Danielle's guilty one as well. (And some of the kids.)

Blushing in embarrassment, you pivot on your heel and start packing up your supplies for the bake sale.

That's when Beau realizes that he fucked up.

He politely excuses himself from Danielle and goes to help you (wiping the crumbs off his face and licking chocolate off his thumb). He can tell you're feeling more than a little icy towards him, but he tries to make up for it by doing all the heavy lifting, bringing back things to the car, and helping you with the bags before he calls Emily over.

It's a long car ride home, awkward and tense. Emily can tell something's off between you and her dad, but when she asks about it, you claim nothing's wrong.

Beau knows better.

He waits until the three of you get home to the apartment you share with him, and after putting the bake sale stuff away, he follows you into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart--"

"What the hell was that, Beau?" You come in hot with it, and Beau is quick to try and ease your tension with an apology.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you see that she was eyeing you like a honey-glazed ham?"

Beau's lips twitch at a grin, but you're not amused. You cross your arms and give him a warning look. That's when he wises up.

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry." He chances taking a few slow steps towards you, raising his brows and keeping his hands up in surrender.

You eye him narrowly, but you let him get close enough to slip his arms around you. He gathers you against his chest and presses a lingering kiss to your cheek.

"I mean it. Won't happen again," he promises. His hands mold to the curve of your waist and squeeze gently. His lips move, burning a sweet path along your jawline, your chin, over the apple of your cheeks, and finally your lips. You breathe into it, and you can't help but cling to the front of his buttoned-down shirt.

"Do me a favor," you say quietly between kisses. "Don't eat Danielle's cookies."

Beau smiles against your lips. "Don't you worry, darlin'. From now on, I'll tell her that I've got some good cookie at home."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, Ben doesn't fuck around.

...Well, in the sense that he can't tolerate another man even looking at you flirtatiously, or otherwise with any kind of intent.

Depending on the severity, at best, it'll have Ben shooting the man a stony look of warning.

At worst, it ruins the day -- namely with the sound of bone snapping and a man's sobbing howl of pain.

You try to get him to tone it down ("For God's sake, Ben. It's fine. Just relax."), but this is one thing he well and truly doesn't budge on.

Ben is possessive. Because you're his. His to touch, and his to protect.

In his mind, it's fucking simple.

Whenever you get irritated with this brutish, knuckle-dragging, caveman mentality, you try to remember why he does it.

It's indicative of how much he actually cares about you.

Because if he didn't, he wouldn't really give a shit if other men were flirting with you. (He'd just find another woman to try and charm back to his apartment.)

So you've learned how to try and finesse these situations so that Ben doesn't notice.

You've also stopped letting down men easy, proverbially cutting off their dick and balls with your words.

Because it's quite literally to save their dumbass life.

But when other women flirt with Ben, he takes it all with indulgent smiles, throwing in a wink and a sweetheart every now and then.

He doesn't blame them for flirting with him, checking him out. He's Soldier Boy, after all, and in his mind, it's not his fault they can't help themselves around him.

However, a smile and a wink is all that he allows himself.

If he truly cares about you (and though he doesn't often express it in words, he does), then the unfamiliar twinge of guilt stops him whenever he almost accepts a woman's alluring invitation--spoken or unspoken.

His mouth might spew arrogance and gilded lies, but his actions too often betray what he really feels.

And what he really feels can't be any more clear than when he goes after you, instead of indulging the woman who basically undressed him with her eyes, whispered sultry, sexy offerings in his ear, and invited him to go home with her.

Seeing you take off out the double doors of the club, Ben rolls his eyes. He brushes the woman off without a backwards glance, and follows you out into the night air. He grabs your hand before you can get far in your heels.

"What the hell's the matter now?" he asks dryly.

You turn on him with an incredulous look.

"That woman was practically sucking your neck, Ben!"

"All right, don't fucking overreact. You're getting hysterical," he says, before guiding you back into his arms.

"I'm not fucking hysterical, you ass!" You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge, nor does he let you go. This isn't a good area, and he doesn't want you out in these streets at this time of night without him at your side.

"Ben," you say sharply. You look up at him in irritation, but he just smirks and strokes your side with his thumb.

Yes, (in his mind) you're being a little difficult, but he thinks your jealousy is amusing, adorable, and kind of hot all at the same time.

Ben doesn't bother with saying anything more to convince you. He just slips a hand behind your neck and kisses you soundly.

He invades your mouth with his tongue and devours you, reminding you that you're the one he wants.

He waylays you with his strong hands framing your body against his, and with his sinful mouth, until you finally melt into his embrace.

He's chosen you countless time before, and he knows he'll keep choosing you, for as long as this lasts.

Russell Shaw

Russell always clocks the "situation" right away when a man starts to flirt with you.

He's not one to make a scene of it at first, depending on the time and place.

But he is quick to sidle up to your side, pointedly slip a hand along your waist, and greet you with a deceptive smile.

"Hey, sweetheart. Let's grab that table over there. 'S more comfortable than the bar."

He glances up at the man, sharpness hidden well behind his green eyes. Whether the guy picks up on it or not, Russell is making a mugshot in his mind -- and he never forgets a face.

You eye him knowingly, but you let him guide you away. He's kind of cute when he's jealous, and it doesn't take much to spark that well of protectiveness that lies in wait just under his skin.

Russell isn't easily fazed by most things, but one sure way to provoke his temper (and those rougher, darker shades of him that he tries his best not to show you) is for a man to push his luck with you.

It really wouldn't take much effort at all for the former soldier to have a man clutching his bloody, shattered nose, let alone to dump his broken body in front of the closest hospital. But somehow, Russell manages to curb those darker urges. (Again, don't tempt him.)

But when another woman flirts with him, you're the one who starts to have steam coming out of your ears.

Russell doesn't miss much. He recognizes the sultry inflection in the woman's words. He catches the subtle, sensuous gleam in her eyes when she rakes him up and down with them.

He also notes the moment you look over and realize what's happening.

Regardless if you're looking or not, he tries his best to stay distant, but polite, even as a warning twinge of "aww shit" runs up his spine.

He tries to play things off with an amiable smile and being purposefully oblivious.

Until the woman gets bold, slipping her hand over Russell's and up his arm a bit, before she withdraws, tilting her head with a sweet-as-pie smile.

Cue Russ's awkward laugh/clearing of the throat. Before he has time to fully pull away and just come out with the, Sorry, I actually have a girlfriend -- you return to his side and pointedly grab his hand.

"Come on, honey, we'll be late," you say, giving him a tense smile.

The aww shit feeling is back, but Russell just nods and falls into step with you.

When you two have enough privacy to hash it out, you let him have it.

"What the hell was that?!"

Russell can't help but chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to keep it classy, but that woman was persistent. Not that I blame her--"

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes (not that you really blame her either). Then you stare at your man in annoyance, crossing your arms. "I didn't see you trying all that hard to fend her off, huh, Romeo? If another man had touched me like that, you would've broken his fingers off, like a fucking caveman."

Russell's brows raise at the dig, but the way you're getting all testy is kind of cute (and also kinda hot).

"All right. You got me there," he says. He slips his arms around your waist and tries to soften you with a charming grin. "Come on, sweetheart. You know I'm not going anywhere."

"Do I?" you blurt out, before you have a chance to reign it back in.

Russell's contract jobs take him all over the country -- all over the world. Yes, he's on his way out, he claims. He wants to settle down with you, or so he says.

But you have no idea of knowing what he does when he's not with you.

All those days out on the road, crashing in skeevy motels, winding down at dive bars -- has he ever been tempted to "sample" the local fare? Has he ever...

Russell's amusement fades, sobering into a frown and a furrowing of his brows. He hums in disapproval. He doesn't like what he's seeing in your eyes: doubt, most of all.

"Hey," he says. It's a serious tone you don't often hear in his voice. He curls a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to meet his.

"I'm gonna need you to listen to me, and listen good," he says. You frown at that, but he brushes his thumb across your cheek, a small, but tender caress. "You and me, we've got something good. I know what that means. So you can believe me when I say, I'm in this. I'm right here, even when I'm not here."

And he smiles at you. "That make sense?"

Slowly, you start to smile too. "Not really," you laugh.

But it does. You know what he's trying to say, and...you believe him. Your fingers curl in the front of his shirt.

Tentatively, you lean up and press your lips to his; just a sweet, slow meeting.

Russell cups your cheek and leans in for a deeper taste, a deeper conviction of every word he just said.

I love you, is what it really means, even if he's not able to say that just yet.

AN: 😮‍💨 Well, there we go! lol I love me a protective man. 💜 Hope you enjoy this set of headcanons!

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norikuna · 2 months ago

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going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) 😭 gojo's order being my order...aurkay!

gojo — def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up

geto — walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.

nanami — doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.

sukuna — prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.

toji — the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and he’d just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.

choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) — frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.

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imaginedanvrs · 2 months ago

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ready or not, here we come

ghostface!wandanatcarol x reader

masterlist

word count: 5.3k

warnings: home invasion, death threats, knife play, cutting, some blood, slapping, stalking, begging, fingering, restraint, strap on sex (r receiving), anal, double penetration, triple penetration, overestimation, implied character death. lmk if i missed anything

It was pretty much a once in a lifetime moment for you to have the entire house to yourself, so you were more than prepared to take full advantage. Trouble was, there were too many options and only one night to fulfil as much as you could.

You could have brought someone home from your local bar to fool around with on whatever surface you pleased, though that meant being away from the house for a couple hours because your home was outside of town. You could have dug up your secret bag of weed in the back of your closet to smoke the house down, but if the potent smell still lingered when your parents strolled through the door the next day then you would be in deep shit. Maybe you should have just gotten off and made the most of not worrying about being too loud while enjoying your own company.

When you stepped into the lounge your eyes landed on the tv standing proudly at the front. Then again, maybe you could just watch your favourite horror films on the best quality screen in the house without anyone around to make noises of disgust at the kill scenes. Paired with the raw cookie dough your mum always scolded you for eating, it could be the perfect night.

You dashed upstairs and swiftly changed into your sleeping shorts and shirt, unaware of the heavy gaze that watched you strip. You practically lived in the middle of nowhere and had never really felt the need to close your blinds when you changed. Or even when you slept. It was a good area - quiet.

Just as your bare feet hit the downstairs landing, the phone rang through the hall. You considered ignoring it because whoever was on the other line certainly wasn’t going to be calling for you and from the sounds of it, half the people that your parents answered to were reps or scammers. Still, you were willing to bet the one phone call you didn’t answer was the one someone in the house was expecting but never mentioned.

“Hello?” You asked as you eyed the kitchen you were eager to get to.

“Hello?” A male voice came through.

“Yes?” You frowned, wanting to get on with your evening and not entertain whoever was giving up their own Friday night to call your house.

“Who is this?” The man asked.

“Who are you trying to reach?” You questioned back, maintaining your manners despite not being the least bit interested.

“What number is this?” He continued. Okay, you were done with this.

“Probably not the one you’re looking for,” you chuckled. “Goodnight,” you said and placed the phone back on the receiver without another word. You started back towards the kitchen when the phone rang behind you again.

Seriously?

You glanced back at the device, wondering if it was just playing up but after several tones you trudged back and picked it up. “Hello,” you answered.

“I’m sorry, I had the wrong number,” the man told you with a certain calmness you were supposed to be feeling while you devoured the sugary treat you were craving.

“So why’d you dial it again?”

“To apologise,” he said simply.

“You’re forgiven, goodnight,” you repeated but apparently the caller wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

“Wait, wait. Don’t hang up,” he insisted and you wondered briefly if he was as stoned as you could have been. He sounded it.

“What?”

“I wanna talk to you for a minute,” he said. You rolled your eyes, mildly amused by the caller’s unusual antics.

“There are other numbers for that, bye,” you informed lightly, pressing the phone down firmer than before. You strolled away and the silence remained.

The caller left your mind as soon as you began mixing together the ingredients you needed and left your house in a comfortable silence as you worked. Your hands worked absently, placing everything together until you were done. The moment you finished washing your hands, the phone rang again.

You huffed, picking up the device. “Hello?” You asked, patience clearly running out.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” You weren’t surprised to hear his voice.

“Who is this?” You frowned as you gathered the bowl and a drink in your free hand.

“You tell me,” he replied, like he was such a smart ass. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” he said playfully. You scoffed a little.

“I don’t think so,” you told him though you weren’t so quick to hang up this time, hoping that entertaining him for a bit longer would make him stop.

“What is that?” He asked instead when you placed the bowl down on the table.

“Just something to snack on while I watch a movie,” you explained absently as you retrieved your drink.

“What kind?”

“Just some scary movie,” you told him vaguely because you hadn’t decided on one yet.

“You like scary movies?” You smiled at the teasing manner he used whenever people were trying to scare their friends, willing to bet he was leading up to something.

“Uh huh.”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?” He asked and you grinned more.

“Halloween,” you recited at once. “I like the classics. What’s yours?”

“Guess.” You opened up Netflix on the tv to put the film on and saw a few horror titles on there to give you some inspiration. “No cheating,” he warned and you scoffed again.

“Nightmare on Elm Street,” you suggested. He merely chuckled.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” The mystery caller continued. You didn’t comment on the random change of topics as you ventured leisurely around your house double checking all of the locks before you got ready to hang up and settle down.

“No, why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” You entertained further. It wasn’t like you were ever going to meet this guy.

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “You never did tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?” You approached the front door with an excited spring in your step.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You swallowed thickly with your hand on the handle of the door, feeling an icy cold drop in your chest as you stood perfectly still.

“What did you say?” You spoke slowly, turning the lock on the door without checking if it was already locked or not.

“I said I wanna know who I’m talking to,” he replied simply as you exhaled with forceful steadiness. You didn’t respond to him as you switched the porch light on and peered outside. “Hello?” Came the voice as you scanned the area the light cast onto. You found nothing and in a way that felt worse.

“Look, I gotta go,” you told him as you turned the porch light off, feeling the need to make it look as though there was no one in the house. Whoever was calling was probably just some bored teenager that wanted to scare you. Maybe they knew you from school and had heard you in passing mention your love for horror movies.

“You hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish,” he spat, shifting his tone entirely. “Understand?” You didn’t respond, too busy flickering your gaze over every window and door in your immediate vicinity. “Yeah.” You could hear the smile in the sick fucks voice as your hands began to shake.

“I wanna play a game with you,” he said. “Can you handle that?” There was a clear taunt to his voice as you approached the window closest to you and peered out into the pitch black. You remembered your science teacher making a comment about light being on one side of a window at night. Though you couldn’t make out a thing in the darkness, anyone on the other side of that glass could see you in your fearful entirety.

“Can you see me?”

“Listen, I am two seconds from calling the police,” you warned, entirely too aware of how unthreatening you appeared when your voice was shaking and tears were stuck in your throat.

“They’d never make it in time,” he told you.

“What do you want?” You whimpered, pacing through your home.

“To see what your insides look like.” You hung up the phone and frantically dialled the three numbers you needed when the doorbell rang. You stumbled backwards through the corridor to get to the other side of the house while your blurred eyes stayed glued to the front door.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed though it did nothing to warn off the trespasser because less than a second later a cloaked figure smashed through the glass door behind you. They shook off the glass and slight disorientation as you bolted out of the room, dropping the phone in your fright. You had never felt fear like it as you heard them run after you, heavy boots crunching on the glass they had shattered to reach you.

You had just enough time to unlock and open the front door as you heard the cloaked figure advance and for a brief second you had a spark of hope that if you just kept running, you would escape them. The last thing you had expected was to throw open the door and be faced with the same eerie ghost mask you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the other invader wear. You didn’t give it much thought though, because it was more than obvious that whoever was behind that mask was not someone that wanted to help you.

Miraculously, you dodged them both when they lunged for you, sprinting to your right with no real plan as to how you could escape them both while inside your home. Your blood was pumping as fast as the adrenaline struck every limb in your body, willing you to just move. You obeyed, running full force into the solid body that appeared out of nowhere.

You grunted and before you could fall down on your own, the third masked figure took hold of your shirt and threw you down to the hard floor behind them with ease. You hit the wooden floor hard, your ribs taking the full impact and aching in protest to the bend they endured. You ignored the ache that was dulled by the shock and scrambled to get to your feet and give yourself some fighting chance against the odds, but a military style boot pressed firmly into the centre of your back and held you in place. Your lungs screamed at the suppression but you were in no state to help.

“Please,” you cried out as you tried to reach behind you to scratch at any exposed skin you could find. “I have money,” you attempted to negotiate with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Aw, she has money,” one of them echoed. You recognised that haunting voice.

“You,” you whispered.

“Me,” the guy from the phone answered back.

“Look at all the effort I’ve gone to. Can I ask you out on a date now?” The others chuckled and you frowned at how similar they all sounded.

“I’ll do anything,” you told them, still struggling under their weight.

“Yes,” they said simply. “You will.” Suddenly, you were kicked onto your back and forced to gaze up at the three strangers before you. The first thing you noticed were the knives. They all held the same dagger that glistened threateningly under your home’s lights, itching to have their polished blade’s stained with whatever they desired to take from you.

“You’re going to be our first,” the one closest to you declared as they crouched down next to you and tilted their head, as though considering where to start.

“You should be honoured,” another told as they strolled around the perimeter of the room until they were in your blind spot. “You’re going to be the first one to feel our blades,” they whispered close to your ear and hauled you up by the hair so you were pressed firmly against their cloaked front and unable to squirm away when their menacing blade was pressed against your neck.

“So we thought we’d do something a little special for you.” Your desperate attempts to claw at the body behind you only served to amuse the other intruders whose cloaks were too thick for your nails even in your survival fueled strength.

“Please!” You begged again, unable to escape the coolness of the blade that was dangerously close to your jugular. It was futile to fight against one of them, never mind hope to get past the two that blocked both your exits.

“Please,” the one behind you mocked. “Please what?” They waited patiently for your answer as you stared at them in terror.

“Please don’t kill me,” you said quickly, knowing it wasn’t going to make a difference. “If you leave I won’t say anything. I don’t know who any of you are,” you reasoned. They looked between each other in silent communication before reaching for the ghost masks and pulling them swiftly from their heads.

What the fuck?

“What about now?” Wanda asked, a smirk gracing the features that you had always admired from afar. Next to her, Natasha’s gaze bore into yours, void of the clear excitement her girlfriend had and instead looking at you like one of her hunting trophies she had collected from far too young an age.

You couldn’t see her, but Carol’s unmistakable voice was by your side. “Now lets play that game.” Her lips ghosted over your neck just under your ear as she spoke and you felt the knife twitch with her impatience.

“So competitive,” Wanda chided but her smirk didn’t waver. Natasha remained silent as she watched you.

“We’ll give you a five second head start to run,” Carol told you as she reluctantly moved her knife away and shoved you forwards. The pair in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path to the opened front door.

“Five,” Carol began and you sprung to your feet. To all of their surprise, you didn’t go for the door, you went for the stairs.

The three women were the best athletes in your school and you knew that if you ran out of the house you would have no chance of outrunning any of them, but maybe if you got ahold of the handgun your dad kept in his bedroom, you would stand a better chance of surviving the night.

“Four,” they continued as you ascended the stairs, scrambling over the steps quicker than you ever had in your life, even when you were a young child that thought monsters might be following you in the dark. Except this time they really were.

“Three.” You barged into your parents room and made for the safe in the corner.

“Two.” Your fingers fumbled against the number pad, making you enter the code wrong the first time until it clicked in confirmation for you to swing the door open to present an empty space. Your heart plummeted.

“One.” There was no time to ponder the location of the missing weapon, the only thing you could do was sprint to the best exit available.

“Ready or not, here we come,” Carol taunted as three sets of boots thudded up the stairs. Taking your chance, you ran to your own room towards the window that was in place just above the porch’s shelter. If you jumped from your own window down to the roof, there would be less chance of you injuring yourself and you would have a better shot of outrunning the intruders.

By the time you made it to your window, the first of the three was in your room just in time to see you struggling to pry open the old wood. Your heart hammered in your chest, refusing to look back at them as you failed to get a good grip on the window, unaware that it had been glued shut an hour prior.

“It’s almost a shame how predictable you are,” Natasha told you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you on to your bed. Just as you landed, you leant back and put all of your energy into swinging your elbow into her ribs. She stumbled back at the impact and you moved to strike again but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you just an inch off the floor. “But at least you’ve got some fight in you,” Natasha quipped as she watched you flair about in Carol’s arms.

“Fuck you!” You spat, realising that begging and compromising weren’t going to help you. “Let me go!”

“But darling, we can’t let you run off now. You’re bleeding,” Wanda told you, voice thick with concern you knew she didn’t have. You frowned, unable to recall when their knives had actually broken skin until you were introduced to Natasha’s dagger. She swiped the fierce blade across your abdomen, slicing through your thin shirt and leaving a trail of red across your skin that made you hiss. It wasn’t deep, but the next one was.

“And now you’ve messed up your clothes,” Carol added as she held you firmly against her so that Wanda could tear your shirt off you while you continued to struggle.

“You poor thing,” the Sokovian pouted as she examined the scarlet streaks across your stomach, tracing them with her fingers and smearing the blood up to your tits. She groped and pinched at your hardened nipples, chuckling when you turned your head to the side with a whine.

“Stop,” you whimpered, voice small.

“You’re not in charge here,” Carol warned. Her fingers were digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure she was going to leave you with bruises. You were powerless against it as you squirmed in her grasp, even as she threw you down onto your bed.

“Fuck!” You cried out when you felt another slash hit the back of your thighs. You tried to scramble away but a gloved hand wrapped itself around the back of your neck and held you down into the mattress.

“You had your chance to run,” Wanda said as she appeared on your pillows and switched her hold to your hair to tug you up and face her. You gritted your teeth with a glare, not ready to give up your fight yet. “Now you do as we say.”

You continued to glare at the Sokovian as a strong pair of gloved hands lifted your hips up to slide your shorts and underwear down painfully slowly, just because they could. The cold air hit you and sent a shiver through your body while your cheeks heard in embarrassment at being so exposed to the woman. You were sure Wanda’s heavy gaze noticed, but she didn’t comment, instead focused on rubbing her covered thumb across your lips.

“Open up.” She tapped them twice but you kept your lips firmly together. She smiled, amused, then delivered a harsh slap to your cheeks that heated them further. You still didn’t comply until she slapped you harder and your mouth fell open in shock, giving Wanda the chance to slip her fingers into your mouth and immediately press down on your tongue. You went to bite down on the rough material but the hand in your hair was suddenly gripping your jaw and holding it apart. You gagged slightly around her digits, trying your best to block out the laughter you heard around the room.

“I bet you’ll look so good choking on my strap,” Wanda mumbled, enchanted by the sight of you drooling around her gloves. Your protests were incoherent and you had a hard time not letting your head empty as Wanda slowly thrust her fingers. Even when she took her fingers out to pull her gloves off before filling your mouth again, you didn’t mumble a complaint…until you felt two fingers stroke your bare cunt.

You tried to twist around to at least see who it was, but Wanda was adamant on keeping your gaze fixed on her as one of the women collected the wetness you didn’t know was there and rubbed several circles on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you whined around Wanda’s digits.

“What was it that got you so sweet, doll?” Carol asked. “Was it when Natasha cut you? When we chased you up the stairs? Told you all those nasty things on the phone?” The blonde didn’t expect an answer and didn’t wait for one. She pushed two fingers forwards, groaning when your pussy took her in. You heard her curse and wanted to thrash away, but it was hard to deny how good it felt to have her skilled fingers inside you.

“Desperate whore,” Natasha commented as she appeared by Wanda’s side. The pair shared a passionate kiss as the Sokovian continued to thrust her own fingers and you couldn’t help but clench at the sight.

“You like watching them, doll? I didn’t take you for a voyeur,” Carol chuckled, curling her digits to elicit the reaction she wanted. You moaned when she brushed against the spot you needed, momentarily forgetting about the weapons they held until Natasha placed hers against your jugular.

“Malysh, let us play a little longer,” Wanda pouted to her lover. Natasha’s blank eyes bore into your own, still void of the excitement the other women held. Still, she pulled her knife away with a huff, making her girlfriend giggle as though she had become giddy at the promise of impending violence. “Let’s keep her entertained so she doesn’t regret that, huh?” Wanda whispered with a grin. You had always loved seeing her smile from afar, but in that moment you could only see the craze that sparkled in her eyes. She was terrifying, but still beautiful.

Almost so beautiful that between her and the fingers still steadily fucking you, you didn’t notice her unzip her trousers and pull out her strap until she was forcing you down on it. Your gags filled the room as she pushed you down by the back of your head, moaning softly at the way you struggled to take her. Tears filled your eyes and a distinct burning started up at the back of your throat as Wanda tried to break through. Your lips were wrapped so perfectly around her that she couldn’t help but buck her hips up slightly to chase some friction at your expense while you hit her thighs.

“Fuck, you get so tight when you can’t breath,” Carol groaned as pushed a third finger into you and scissored her digits slightly to enhance the stretch. Before you could grow accustomed, she pulled her soaked fingers out and pressed her own silicone toy between your legs. She prodded bashfully at your throbbing clit until you were shaking, wetting the length of the toy.

Carol muttered a curse when she pressed the head of her cock against your entrance that refused to part for her. You whimpered around the toy stuffing your mouth, feeling how large Carol was against you and how much it might hurt when she-

“Take it,” the blonde hissed when she finally forced her strap inside your cunt. Your legs gave out but she quickly took hold of your hips and used them to thrust further, deeper, inside you.

“How’s that feel, love?” Wanda asked as she brushed your hair away from your features that were blurred with pain and pleasure. The stretch was intense and it was hard to imagine a point that you would even begin to adjust to Carol’s size as she refused to let up, adamant that you take all of her. “You look so pretty getting stuffed like a good fucktoy,” she told you, almost in a singsong tone. “Don’t you think?” Wanda turned to her partner who sat in your chair to the side, her gaze dead set on you. If you hadn’t already been so overstimulated, you would have shuddered. Natasha was looking at you like you were her prey and you couldn’t hold her gazy any longer.

Carol didn’t pause for a second when her hips finally pressed against your own. She didn’t give you a moment to adjust or prepare, she instantly drew her hips back only to slam the entire length back into your abused cunt. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wanda cooed at the sight of you struggling to take them both, whispering condescending praises that you couldn’t pick up entirely. ‘Sweet fuck’ and ‘good whore’ were all you picked up as Wanda held you by the hair and made you continuously deepthroat her own toy while Carol pumped her cock in from behind, pace unrelenting. Your cunt burned in a pleasure you never could have imagined, bringing out moans you didn’t want to please the intruders with but couldn’t stop. It just felt so good to be used. Too good, more than you could hold off on.

“Gonna cum,” you managed to communicate when your whines grew louder and Wanda pulled you off her strap, spit down your chin and coating her toy.

“Cum for us,” Wanda said, pupils blown with lust at the sight beneath her. She pushed her strap back into your mouth but this time angled it slightly lower so that the harness could provide better friction for her clit. You didn’t realise what you were doing for her until you registered the stutter of her hips as she came with you.

“Fuck,” Wanda voiced as you cried out around her strap, clenching and pulsing around the cock in your pussy as Carol continued to fuck you relentlessly, pace still harsh. You shuddered and moaned, unable to distinguish up from down as your high was drawn out and you were sent toppling into a second one.

“Greedy thing,” you vaguely heard Natasha mutter as she stood up from the chair. Her boots thudded as she stalked towards the tangle of bodies, still only eyeing you.

“Come on, Nat. If she wants more, let's give her more,” Carol said, a smirk on her features that you never got to see. Natasha hummed, a trace of a smile threatening to break through.

As pathetic as it was, you could have cried when Carol pulled out. You immediately felt empty but bit your tongue when you felt a pair of hands haul you up the bed until you were straddling Wanda’s own piece that glistened in the low light. She didn’t give you any instructions or warnings, merely pulled your hips down until you were half way filled with her strap. Without anything to stop you this time, your moans bounced off of the walls.

Despite the laughter you heard, you were also met with a firm slap to the face from Natasha. She still had her gloves on and had more force to the act than Wanda did, more aggression. It was clear that out of the three, she was the one that wanted to hurt you the most. She grabbed your chin, assessing you for a hard minute as you grinded into the base of Wanda’s strap.

“Danvers, come here,” she said without taking her eyes off of you. Carol grumbled something about the redhead not being in charge but complied as the two swapped places. It unnerved you greatly to know she was lurking somewhere behind you, but the other women kept your focus on them.

Wanda suddenly bucked her hips up and took a hold of your waist, making you follow her shallow thrusts as though she didn’t want to be that far from you. It meant that the head of her cock hit the back of your pussy more often and with more force and it felt incredible.

“You look so good like this,” Wanda husked, her accent slipping through slightly in her haze.

“Keep her still,” Natasha’s voice came behind you. Wanda stilled her movements and slapped your thigh when you tried to move against her. You met her smirk with a silent plea until you felt two wet fingers prod against your ass.

“Wait-” you tried but Natasha was already pushing them into the first knuckle, despite your discomfort.

“No,” the redhead said back as her lips ghosted over your shoulder and her teeth sunk into your skin. You whined at the dual pain and in trying to move away only made the strap shift inside you.

It was all too much as you felt Natasha begin to thrust her fingers into your ass steadily. She twisted and curled her fingers before fanning them out to open you up while Wanda began to move your hips once more. The discomfort and pleasure blurred together until you found yourself craving anything they gave you. Your moans picked up more when Carol’s lips found your nipples.

“You’ll take what we give you,” Natasha said, gliding her dagger around your torso where the looming threat settled. She pulled her fingers out of your tightest hole only to swiftly replace them with her strap.

“Fuck, please!” You gasped at the sudden intrusion. “Too much,” you tried to communicate as you felt your body stretch once more.

“Shut her up,” Natasha huffed as she bore more of her weight down on you so that you took more of her piece. Your walls stretched so painfully that you almost didn’t register the cut to your torso. You cried out and fell against Wanda only to be pushed back so Carol could slide her strap between your lips.

With all three of them pounding into you in a purely primal manner, your body finally gave in to their assaults. Your eyes glazed over, unable to focus on any one thing as every thought in your mind struggled to make itself known. All you were aware of was the way seemingly every nerve in your defeated body was ablaze with an onslaught on sensations. The three women eventually found a rhythm to fall into together that ensured you were never empty, even as drops of blood fell from your scarlet chest you were too lost in the pleasure to acknowledge.

“You’re going to be the prettiest victim,” Natasha mumbled against your ear, biting the lobe softly. You whimpered, though not in fear. Their straps were hitting your depths over and over, never letting up for a second. Your holes welcomed them greedily, clenching around the silicone everytime they pulled out and making each woman grunt at the tightness. They made comments you mostly missed, but the degradation you picked up on only made you wetter, as Wanda pointed out. They were ruthless and even when you came again, they didn’t stop.

You whined around Carol’s toy, trying desperately to communicate how sore and used you felt. You needed a break to let your body recover, but it was made clear to you that you were done when the three women agreed you were. They pulled more orgasms from your wrecked frame, not caring when you soaked Wanda’s thighs with your cum or Carol’s with your spit. When you eventually passed out from the overstimulation, they withdrew.

You slumped against the Sokovian in an exhausted heap, barely able to keep your eyes open as she cooed to you how much of a perfect slut you were for them. You mumbled a protest when you were manoeuvred onto your back on the bed, finally opening your eyes to see Wanda leaning over you with a deranged look upon her face and shimmering knife in hand. “I know,” she said softly when your eyes widened in fear and tried to move your spent frame. “It’s scary, but you knew this bit would happen,” she continued, stroking your face as she dug the knife under your chin.

Carol and Wanda appeared at her side and you finally saw Natasha smile. She was smug, they all were. They had won. “Thank you for this, baby,” Wanda said, raising her dagger above her head. “You’ll look beautiful with our knives in you.”

Then she struck.

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just-some-user-hunny · 5 months ago

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Thinking about bastard!readers upbringing with yandere Targaryens...

~So obviously reader has come from a rather humble background. Shes used to collecting water from streams and communal wells, mending her simple scraps of clothes, and eating plain food like stale bread and lentils.

The whiplash she'd get once she's thrust into the limelight of royalty- plentiful fresh water and milk, beautiful ornate outfits, and plentiful food of whatever she desires. It'd probably take her a while to eat comfortably, wishing her mother and little brothers could eat this well too. Thinking of them sitting alone at home with rumbling tummies always killed her appetite.

~ You can imagine Daemons frustration, and Rhaenyra's growing anxiety as they watch the little princess refuse to eat another bite at mealtimes. Her expression stern and stubborn, willing to ignore little lukes encouragement to at least eat a little more. His mousy brown eyes peering at her all sweetly, a little hand nudging at her fork.

"Darling, eat your food. You'll be hungry". Is all Daemon will utter. Fixing you with a stern and silent look. His whole visage is demanding and poised.

"My mummy and brothers are hungry right now".

The table will fall into utter silence. The occasional scrape of utensils and clutter of servants placing dishes out upon tables will fill the still room, and suddenly the air grows thick and uncomfortable.

"They would be. If they were still yours. Now eat, don't be unseemly". Daemon is the only one to brave against your words, and Rhaenyra shoots her husband a stern look and pursed lips.

At his cold words, your eyes water, and everyone holds their breath because they know it's going to be another tearful night.

"Must you be so callous". Rhaenyra hisses beneath her breath, watching solemnly as you wiggle out of your seat and leave the room- a maiden following close behind, seeking to comfort you. Your soft sniffles echoing in the hall alongside the quick paced pitter-patter of your footsteps down the hall.

~ Eventually she may grow out of this with age, but it doesn't make it any less stressful on Daemon and the rest of the family. You'll probably spend most of your time picking at food and drink, and distracting yourself by talking to your half-sisters and brothers, or maybe even Helaena. She is good, friendly company.

~ Now it would probably become a little overwhelming to constantly entertain every single family member who wants to occupy your space and company, so you'd probably find hobbies like reading and writing, horseback riding, sewing, and causing a little harmless chaos amongst the castle.

~ It'd be more than amusing to clamber up into a tree and watch everyone go into a panic trying to find you, knights dashing around with their glinting silver armour and billowing capes, or handmaidens calling for you whilst offering honeyed cakes and toys as attempts to lure you out.

~ It's only when a mildly frantic Daemon hears your muffled giggles in the gardens, right above his head, does he realise your antics. He'll peer up at you with a not very impressed look, but still, he'll encourage threaten you with time-out to clamber back down into his reaching arms.

~ Due to Bastard!readers constant attempts to escape, or wade back through the ocean, your disappearances are always met with panic. At some point, to quelm everyones anxieties of you escaping, you'll be assigned your own personal handmaiden/lady in waiting, and a knight. Your handmaiden will diligently be by your side 24/7, and your knight will accompany you whenever outside of the castle walls. You are free to roam the gardens and beaches, but as long as he is by your side.

~ I can see bastard!reader being a little sweet but mischievous thing with her personal knight. Curious of his sword, shyly trying to slip it from it's sheathe- only for a large armoured gloved hand to gently persuade her hand away from the blade's handle.

(maybe Harwin strong is made her personal protector? And there's silent beef between him and Cristen Cole as they're both competitive platonic yanderes for her? I might go into that more later 😌)

~ Until you become bound to the cannibal, your family would be very insistent of you relying on them and their dragons. Vermax is a sweet chirpy boy around you, like a little song-filled canary. Morning and Moondancer are passive and gentle to you, and syrax is doting. I can also see Sunfyre being a sweet boy to you (regardless of how Aegon treats you, Sunfyres actions always speak the truth of his genuine feelings towards you. Chirping and purring, nudging you around for attention and pets). Your parents however will only ever trust you to mount their dragons, since their children are willing and eager for you to ride with them, they simply feel it safer you stay with them.

~ Just Rhaenyra gently explaining to a deflated looking Luke and Jace that they have to wait till they've grown older and more experienced to have you ride dragon-back with them. Sadly, both boys will never achieve this dream of their. If you know, you know :(

If anyone has any more thoughts/ideas to elaborate, I'd love to hear them!!! I have so many ideas they keep getting jumbled up, and can't decide 😅

#yandere hotd #platonic yandere house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere harwin strong #yandere criston cole

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reidingandwriting · 3 months ago

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

Word Count: ~1,900

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

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

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

Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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