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pearlymel · 2 months ago

Text

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

#il capitano x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #il capitano #genshin impact #genshin impact capitano #genshin impact x reader #genshin #capitano x you #il capitano x you #fatui harbingers #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin impact fatui #genshin impact fluff #capitano genshin impact

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months ago

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Hey guys! You may remember a post I ran back in October for the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund.

Well, I'm back again and this time I've been in contact with @hmzamohammed, whose family has been taking shelter in Gaza and needs the funds to get out.

(here's photo proof that I vetted this)

Here's what's gonna happen:

Similar to last time, I want everyone to be able to contribute.

For every reblog this post gets through June 25th 2024, I'll donate 1 euro (the unit they're using) to their GoFundMe page.

Additionally, if you make your own donation through the link below and DM me a screenshot (with personal info redacted) as proof, I will send you a personalized list comprising of one headcanon for every euro you gave, centered around any batfamily character/theme you want.

If you have any questions, feel free to send them as an ask or DM me.

#batman #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #donations #gofundme #palestine #gaza #rafah #free palestine #charity #donation post

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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a-yo there, Claudette! how ya' doin'? could I ask a request with the overblot gang like this: they are flirting with reader, in some case is more boldly, another is smoothly or a 'smart'/well thought out flirt, (because i'm SURE that leona and vil don't flirt the same, or blue and idia, for example). reader blushes a lot and looks away. after a second of silence, reader flirts back just as smoothly, slyly or boldly. how do the 7 primors react? 💗💗

thanks in advance! take care<3

oooh- yes, of course!! I had fun with this. it also occurs to me how bad most of them would be at flirting...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the boys do a flirt

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

anyone here familiar with Victorian courting rules?

well, Riddle is

he is alllll about etiquette

literally "no hand holding before marriage"

the boldest he gets is with... flowers

for what he can't say or do outright, he can convey in floriography

daisies for loyalty, pink camellia for longing...

if he's feeling bold, he may add a lavender sprig or two

now, imagine his surprise when you send him a red orchid...

his face blushes the same color as the flower and he gets all giggly

going around Heartslabyul, saying he's got to send you a red rose back

...as if anyone knows what that means

(everyone in his dorm thinks you're both crazy)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is the god of avoidance

he would rather crawl on his hands and knees through sewage than be honest with himself about his feelings

so, what does he do when he knows he's falling for you?

bullies you

like, lovingly

it's just easy for him to banter and push you around

he will call you short no matter what your height is, let himself into your room to sleep on your bed and make direct eye contact with you while he knocks your things off your desk

like... petty cat behavior

he was not anticipating you to reciprocate

man, you have a mouth on you

the things you say... color him impressed

honestly, he likes you even more than before

...which now makes avoiding his feelings impossible... crap

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unfortunately I think Azul's best attempt at flirting is staring at you across a crowded room

he's a flatterer by default, but, like, he actually likes you

he knows how to get someone into a contract, but not how to ask you out on a date

funny, right?

well, not for him

it takes all of his courage just to say you look nice

Sevens, what is wrong with him?

you make him feel like an utter fool... so, of course, he has to compensate

now, when he's around you, he becomes smarter, more interesting, and about three times as pretentious

to impress you. obviously

then you match his energy and he's right back to square one

who knew he could get so easily flustered?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil doesn't "flirt"

...at least, that's what he tells himself

before you, he'd simply never had a reason to. now...

how hard can it be, right?

and, well, he's not half-bad at it

Jamil knows how to keep his cool, and flattery is his second language

and he gets a chance to show off a little...

perfect, right?

well...

he can never seem to surprise you

every hint he tries, every subtle compliment and little smirk, you have something equally as crafty

...not what he had in mind, but, hey

the psychological warfare makes flirting much more interesting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is, perhaps, the only person here who actually knows what he's doing

not that he's used to flirting

he just... knows how to talk to people

he's always quite subtle about it

forward advances are tasteless, if you'd ask him

he tends to flirt in subtle, but meaningful ways

that is, he makes his intentions known through touch

nothing aggressive, of course

a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, a brush of his hand against yours, an arm around your waist...

just enough to fluster you (which he so enjoys doing)

imagine his surprise, then, when you start touching him back

wordlessly holding his hand, sitting close enough to him to feel your shoulder against his...

he'll admit, he admires your boldness

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the only "you" that Idia is flirting with is a chat bot he programmed to talk like you

I mean WHAT who said that

he DEFINITELY does not have that. haha... that'd be like, super creepy...

on that note, he also definitely DOES NOT obsessively study your words and mannerisms to better understand you

...well...

listen, he just doesn't know how to approach you!

you're so... you! and he's so... him

so, he'd much rather watch your every move and fantasize about being able to actually... talk to you...

he is, understandably, terrified when you approach him

...even more so when you seem to know about him and all his interests...

???

...you know what? he's not even going to think about it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus can be a little... old-fashioned

and by that I mean Briar Valley old-fashioned

he was taught how to court by Lilia, of all people, so you know whatever he's doing is...

...strange

and he's somewhat aware of it, too

he just thinks it'd be even stranger for him to flirt with you like...

well... you get it

everyone else

he is, however, pleasantly surprised when you seem to know what he's doing

you've been reading up on Briar Valley customs, and recognized his courting rituals pretty much right away

...not that you're going to tell him that

reciprocating his flirtations is more fun when he doesn't see it coming

he makes that one surprised face every time

like this -> o_o

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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shotoh · 1 year ago

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❝ I THINK I… ♡ ❞

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ when they realize they’re in love with you

feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo

cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigami’s scenario, but he’s obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliver’s), maximum self-indulgence

notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons

OLIVER AIKU

honestly, he’d get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, “psh, i’m oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!”

no, it’s because he’s fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that he’s afraid of this. he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting you—the one person he truly cares about—and he believes you don’t deserve that.

you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.

he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when he’s so clearly infatuated with you.

the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesn’t drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while he’s there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. that’s how deep his affections for you have run.

at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.

“oli~! why don’ yer dance wit me?!” you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.

“i think you’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,” he chides. after that he’s draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.

you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while he’s driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.

he lingers a little bit longer to make sure you’re all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes you’re out like a light. that is, until he’s sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.

“love you… oliver…” is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while you’re blissfully unaware,

“love you too, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI RIN

lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: it’s not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.

he spends the next week evading you—declining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings he’s been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.

even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just can’t live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason he’s been doing so poorly is because he and his “little girlfriend” broke up. which isn’t even the case since you’ve both never crossed that bridge.

poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldn’t be surprised by, given how he’s been treating you lately.

but then you’re asking him if he’s okay and rin is utterly taken aback because he’s been acting like such an asshole, yet you’re the one that’s still worried about his well-being.

right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.

when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. he’s honestly doubting if you’ll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. you’re standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.

rin can’t even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, you’re blabbering about how he didn’t have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rin’s head because that is far from what he wants.

all of a sudden, he’s silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.

“fuck, no. i don’t want that all…” his voice sounds like he’s about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if you’ll leave him at any moment. you assure him you won’t as you nuzzle closer into his chest.

“then i’m not going anywhere, rin.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

the thought comes upon him when he’s alone in his apartment. it’s not immediate though.

the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldn’t already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.

even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, he’s constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, he’s woken by the ruckus you’re making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.

but this morning it’s… silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesn’t have practice today. what more could he want?

once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is… leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him food—a couple days ago.

regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but there’s an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.

his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persists—it’s been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and it’s starting to annoy him. he can’t determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.

after all, nothings changed.

just that… you went on an overseas trip. without him.

well, it’s not like he was ever going to be invited since you’re supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.

ah, wait. maybe he’s just lonely.

no, that can’t be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?

the question lingers in nagi’s noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phone’s ringing breaks him from his stupor, and he’s surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.

he’s not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears he’s never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter “hello?”

“sei, you’re awake! i’m glad i got the time zones right!” you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. “y’see i’ve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs i’d think you’d like!”

you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country you’re visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like you’re right here in front of him.

suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. it’s like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, you’re still the sun to his moon.

“angel,” he murmurs as you’re in the middle of talking, and you’re silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.

“come home soon. i miss you.”

ISAGI YOICHI

this boy is a mess! he’s the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and it’s obvious too.

before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because he’s just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. it’s so cute.

however, he’s not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his face—starstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his features—that he’s absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.

well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasn’t actually a date, but c’mon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, he’s in love with you.

isagi yoichi is in love with you.

but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.

with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that he’s afraid to open.

what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? he’s hoping that won’t ever be the case. he’d hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.

god, never in a million years does he want that.

the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.

to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise you’ll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.

on the day of his match, he’s more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts he’ll claim victory and take home the championship cup. he’s just eager to show you a new isagi you’ve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi that’s been vying for your attention lately.

coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where you’re seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the stands—draped in a jersey that reads his name—countless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. it’s a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.

all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.

and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where it’s downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi can’t wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.

ITOSHI SAE

sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.

in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.

as if sae wasn’t already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. he’s constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when you’re with him. it’s to the point where he’s even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before you’re given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesn’t place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.

he’s also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isn’t the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any way—which is very rare but not impossible—he always has a hand on you. whether it’s on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.

it’s not like he’s controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, he’s setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.

on more than one occasion, he’s had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. he’s grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while you’re in his arms.

after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expenses—plane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you don’t want to be a hindrance while he’s working. yet sae counters by saying it’ll be more trouble for him if you weren’t there with him than not, and who are you to object when he’s staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if you’re the whole world to him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if he’s aware of the love he possesses behind it.

it’s natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.

that’s especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while he’s settling himself at his apartment. he’s slightly surprised by the random call. you don’t normally reach out for him at this time since you’re either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.

accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.

“hello? y/n?”

“r-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?” you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.

“where are you?” he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.

“i just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but… s-someone’s–”

kunigami doesn’t need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.

“i’m coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and don’t stop talking to me, okay?”

you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as you’re doing so, kunigami’s already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. he’s never driven this fast in his life, swearing he’s a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.

if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him he’s less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.

as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.

when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.

kunigami’s attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.

“ren, i’m so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-and–” your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbag’s actions.

“shh, princess. it’s not your fault,” he whispers next to your ear, “fuck! if anything happened to you… i… i…” his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, he’s thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.

MIKAGE REO

when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, he’s a bit doubtful. mostly because he’s approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, he’ll discover that they’re mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore he’s very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.

however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way you’re always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. he’s stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.

eventually, they’ll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parents’ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.

reo’s used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever they’re eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.

so to have a person like you by his side, who doesn’t determine his value on such materialistic facets is… refreshing… but also just as frightening because he’s afraid of losing such a precious person like you.

though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking you’re someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.

the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, you’re a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didn’t have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.

then as if he couldn’t have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you don’t have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you don’t want to rely on him for money—that you simply enjoy being with him—but reo counters with similar reasoning.

“c’mon doll, just let me do this for you,” he insists. “you’ve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #aiku x reader #oliver aiku x reader #rin x reader #nagi x reader #isagi x reader #sae x reader #kunigami x reader #reo x reader #aiku fluff #rin fluff #nagi fluff #isagi fluff #sae fluff #kunigami fluff #reo fluff

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sim0nril3y · 6 months ago

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The Honeymoon

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Fun, fun, fun on the honeymoon, need I say more? Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), very soft, very fluffy, very smutty, p in v sex, honeymoon sex, breeding kink, wife kink all things good, feral Simon, canon-typical swearing.

You weren’t sure that you’d seen another time where Simon was more relaxed than on your honeymoon. Whilst the wedding had been exceptionally small and intimate, he’d spare no expense on the honeymoon. Mykonos, three weeks. There was a private beachside villa which also had the most amazing pool, Simon had hired a car for the time you’d be there, he’d organised everything perfectly. “Nothing less for my perfect wife.” He'd told you, railing into you passionately from behind as you gazed out over the balcony that first evening.

In ways that his sex-drive typically fluctuated back home, there was something about being here that seemed to send it sky high. Maybe it was all the beautiful beachy outfits that you were wearing, or maybe it was the way you lounged under the bathing sun, or maybe it was that ring that lay so prettily on your left hand now. It was official, you were his and he was yours and everyone fucking knew it. Whenever he’d see that piece of jewellery sparkling under the sun he had to have you, he was practically insatiable. It didn’t seem to matter where you were, lounging on a sunbed by the pool, walking through the streets home from dinner, even shocking you in a vineyard tour where he snuck you away into a nearby cupboard to have his way with you.

After an evening of good wine and even better food the two of you returned to the villa. You collapsed back onto the sofa, beginning to remove your strappy heels whilst Simon made himself busy pouring a couple more glasses of wine. “’ere, Mrs Riley…” He saunters towards you, looking mouth-watering in his thin linen shirt, very few buttons keeping it together now. “Thanks.” You say softly, throwing one shoe aside and accepting the glass from his hands as he took a seat on the artsy coffee table in front of you, carefully taking your other ankle into his hands and lifting, stroking your calf in a soothing way as you leaned back and let out a low sigh.

Those meaty fingers were so delicate as they began to untie the straps of your heel, unravelling them slowly. “Y’look a knockout, babe.” He mentioned, voice soft and eyes cast down to remove your shoe, pressing the pads of his thumbs into the arching arch of your foot causing a moan to pull from your throat. “Fuckin’ glowing…” He mentioned, you bit the inside of your cheek. “My beautiful fuckin’ wife…” Then those dark eyes drifted up your frame finally coming to a stop on your face. “Show ‘er to me.” Simon’s voice was a low drawl, needy having being away from your precious cunt for more than a few hours. “Si~” You purred. “Jus’ quick…”

Slowly you licked at your lips before being unable to fight your smile, fingers curling tightly around the hem of your dress before dragging it up to display your naked pussy to his hungry eyes. “No knickers?” His voice was dangerous low, eyes no longer on your own and watching your cunt, you shook your head. “All night?” Another shake whilst raising your leg to plant a foot on the sofa beside you, spreading yourself further to his wonting eyes. “Dirty fuckin’ girl…” Simon muttered. “Y’killing me here.”

A tender giggle pulled from your throat, leaning your head back, your left hand drifting down as two fingers traced over your cunt lips, spreading them, gliding across your slit and all the while your wedding ring gleamed and glistened. Simon watched, his mouth popped open just slightly, ragged breaths escaping. “Fuck me.” He whispered, watching eagerly as those two fingers sunk into your wanting walls. “Fuck~” You hiccupped softly.

Simon shuffled closer, watching as your fingers pressed in and out of your walls with a quiet ‘shlck, shlck, shlck’ all the while. “Good girl.” He breathed, falling to his knees, pressing a few wayward kisses to your thighs as he leaned close. “Pretty fuckin’ wife.” It seemed as if he was talking to himself, pushing down his trousers and his cock bobbing out, painfully hard, cum dripping from the tip. “Gonna let me fuck you?” He asked then, looking up at your pleasure filled face, brows pinched, breaths low and pulled from deep. “I know, I know. You wanna cum. Let me help.” His lips ghosted over the back of your hand as those fingers buried deep. “Let your husband help.”

To say that Simon was obsessed with calling you his wife and himself your husband was an understatement. It was beginning to sneak into almost every conversation, but especially in the throes of passion. Simon had you pressed into that sofa moments later, fucking you deep, calling you his pretty wife, his perfect wife, his beautiful wife, loving his wife’s beautiful cunt, feeding his wife her husband’s cock because she needed it. God, if it didn’t drive you wild too. There was something so unhinged yet so tender about it all that really made you both crave it.

And when he finished there was a promise on his lips. “Knock you up.” It was a faint growl but you heard it clear as day and you wished for his words to come true. He pumped you full, seated inside of you for a good long while as if allowing his seed more time to truly take hold, but during that time his words were sweet and his lips were warm against your skin, whispering the most beautiful and endearing things.

This was the place you wanted to stay forever, this was the Simon you always wanted to love.

Masterlist | Ask | 26-05-2024

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sardonic-the-writer · 6 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake

2K notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 2 months ago

Text

WISH YOU KNEW || CH. 1

─ KISS THE GIRL

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: Another mundane afternoon rolls around that quickly turns into a new beginning after Logan abruptly meets one of Wade's close friends.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. NO SMUT. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Friends to lovers vibes. Mutual pining. Sexual tension. Close proximity. Flirting. Playful Banter. Kissing. Alcohol Consumption. Profanity. Logan catching feelings. Wade being an instigator. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Reader has an established friendship w/Wade. Descriptions of reader's clothing. Mentions of other characters.

WC: 7.9K

A/N: Super excited to be posting this today, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it despite it taking me a little while. This whole story and first part is an extensive addition to these headcanons I posted a while back. Huge thank you to @ozarkthedog for the proofread and encouragement to finish this project, and shoutout to my baby @joelsdagger for helping me with the aesthetics and vibes of this post. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART | AO3

Leaping into a new reality after everything he’d been through was far from the strangest things Logan had to experience in his incredibly long life. If anything, he was secretly appreciative to be given a second chance, a way to redeem himself from the horrors of his previous timeline and possibly live up to the expectations of his former self.

Though, he imagined things would be much more different. He thought that by now, he’d be living independently with a stable source of income outside of taking odd mercenary jobs alongside Deadpool, of all people. Crashing on the couch of the culprit that brought him into this mess was far from what he wanted, but getting adjusted to this new way of living was taking much longer than he anticipated.

Wade whistled to himself as he stayed busy in the kitchen. Still dressed in his pjs, the pink kiss-the-cook apron was neatly tied around his waist, paired with an obnoxiously crisp chef’s hat. He poured some batter into a flat pan, watching it puff up and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he flipped the pancake, ensuring the edges didn’t burn.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, usually full of playing reruns on the TV and sleeping off the previous night of copious whiskey drinking. The alternative was dealing with Wade’s get-togethers, where his friends stopped by for game night. Logan could, in theory, stay behind and beat everyone at the table in a good game of poker, but having so many individuals in the tiny one-bedroom apartment he was already sharing with two other people and a dog could be overstimulating.

The doorbell ringing disrupted the rarely calm atmosphere, sending the hairs on Logan’s nape to rise. He didn’t think it could be Blind Al coming back home so soon unless her daily walk was cut short. Wade made quick work of the pancakes in the current stack, setting them to the side and striding into the entryway to look through the peephole. Squealing to himself, he gave the grumpy man on the couch one more glance as a warning to behave and swung the door open to let an unknown figure come into view.

In walks a new stranger, someone Logan hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting personally. He was presented to Wade’s inner circle once he was brought into this world, surprised at the diverse group of people who tolerated his behavior longer than he had. Your face was refreshing compared to who he usually saw, and your abrupt entrance captivated him.

He diligently observed how you rummaged through the kitchen, tearing open the overhead cabinets and searching for something he couldn’t quite decipher under your mumbles. You have yet to sense an additional presence in the apartment, and you’re too busy in your quest to take a peek at the couch.

“Where the hell did you put my wine, Wade? I told you to hold it for me, not pop it open.” Your voice cut through the room, hitting Logan’s discerning ears. As strange as it was, he thought the pitch of your voice suited you, or at least what he suspected would closely resemble it.

“Well, happy Sunday to you too, honey bunches. Are you looking for it? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Blind Al drank all of it,” he joked with a devilish grin. There he was again, jerking someone’s chain when given the chance, and yet Logan found himself curious about your dynamic with his roommate.

“Since when did Althea drink wine? I swear if you opened my rosé without telling me, I’m never bringing you anything again,” you playfully threatened as the corner of your lips curled up in a smirk.

A righteous aha! came from you as the bottle manifested in your hand, smiling widely at your successful find. You turned around, spotting Wade in his apron before your eyes moved further to the right, noticing the aged man for the first time since you barged into the apartment. He could see how your pupils dilated at taking him in, the cogs turning in your head as you tried to figure out who he was and his association with Wade.

“Who’s the big guy?” You jutted your chin toward the mutant, forcing Wade to take the initiative to bridge the introduction between you two.

“Ah, him. Yeah, that’s Logan, the Wolverine. Kinda resurrected him as Marvel Jesus and brought him from his timeline into ours after saving the world. Now we’re happily married with a kid,” Wade said with full confidence, another one of his meddling tactics.

“Oh, oh. This is Logan?” You tilted your head to study the man in question, all while he fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Has Wade mentioned him to you before? “So you two are…”

“No, no we’re not,” Logan finally spoke, quickly rising from the couch to end the dubious dialogue. A pout formed on Wade’s face at his friend’s intrusion, no longer feeding into the delusion that they were somehow more than cohabitants.

“Don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m crashing on the couch since your friend brought me here.” Somehow after the brief explanation of how he got here, it sounded even worse coming from Logan’s mouth.

“Peanut, do not embarrass me right now. I know you’re shy about our true love, but sugarplum here is very much an ally,” Wade lifted a finger at him, more comical than the overall discussion, as Logan sighed in annoyance. He figured he might as well introduce himself properly since he’s gotten this far.

“Logan,” he opened his palm to offer a handshake, catching your name grace your lips as you clasped your hand over his. The squeeze you gave him was reassuring, and he reciprocated in kind, holding your gaze and drawing his hand away.

“I’m guessing how you got here is a long story?” Your eyes dashed to Logan in interest, sparing him the embarrassment of denying the initial claims your mutual friend made without his knowledge.

“Very long.” Before Logan could smack his hand over Wade’s mouth, he closed his eyes, waiting for the raunchy commentary soon to follow.

“That’s what she said!” Wade clapped his hands, receiving a groan from the older man and a chuckle from you.

“You’ll have to tell me about it some time then. I’ll never understand Wade’s quests, all he talks about is who he kills and how much fun he has doing it.”

“Honey, the complexities of the space-time continuum are way too extreme to explain in one sitting. I’m going to need a podcast and a projector to elaborate on it,” while Wade kept responding to you, Logan observed the exchanges between you two, making mental notes as he read your body language.

“I think you’re banned from the tech stores within the tri-state area, but maybe you can try Amazon,” you offered him, the same lively smile popping up once again. “The new season of Love Island USA drops this weekend. Are we still on for our watch party?”

“You must be fucking crazy if you think I will miss this premiere,” he beamed at you, mimicking your expression of delight.

“Then I’ll bring some of those sweet ‘n salty pretzels you and Althea like next time I stop by,” you announced, kissing Wade’s wrinkly cheek to honor the words threaded onto his apron. Your hand hovered over the front door handle, meeting hazel eyes to the right. “I hope to see you around Logan.”

One final glimpse at them, and you were out the door, the silhouette of your shadow no longer in the older mutant’s peripheral. Wade returned to the kitchen to continue cooking his late breakfast, putting strawberries and maple syrup on a stack of chocolate pancakes and cutting into the sweetened heap.

“Is she another one of your friends?” Logan asked, his encounter with a new face birthed a sense of novelty that flickered in his mind.

“Mhm. Met her at a grocery store when I was finding something for Blind Al and kept bumping into her throughout the city. We just became friends, plus Althea loves her, probably because she’s always bringing her sweet treats,” Wade answered casually, his mouth half stuffed with the pancakes he bit into.

“Hmm. So I should be worried about seeing more people entering this apartment?”

“She comes for our religious reality TV and movie nights. It’s no biggy, she’s like everyone else I know. Think of me, but with a brain, and maybe not with the whole ‘immortal’ thing I got going on here,” he clarified, the thought of having to deal with anyone remotely similar to Wade filled Logan with inexplicable anxiety. Yet, all he did was shake his head and cross his arms across his chest.

“Great, the more the merrier.”

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you could actually have friends in this world, or even get laid. But instead, you’re too hellbent on being a grouch,” Wade replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe I’d have friends and get laid if people didn’t think we were fucking all the time,” Logan reacted defiantly, grabbing hold of Mary Puppins and attaching the leash to her collar, getting ready to take her out on a walk around the neighborhood.

“Live in your truth, Wolvie. Be who you are!” Wade exclaimed again, ignoring Logan’s curses as he stepped through the front door to get some fresh air.

Logan held on to the leash with one hand as he walked down the block with Dogpool, taking in the acquainted streets and ignoring the looks that came his way. Thankfully, after being in Wade’s world for a while, the stares have transitioned from hate to mere tolerance, aiding his adjustment. As he turned the corner, his intrigue spiked as he thought more of his brief interaction with you, another of Wade’s friends who will inevitably return for a visit.

Who are you?

Sticking to Wade’s words, you stopped by the apartment more than Logan expected. You’d come by and drop off some dinner and pastry dishes bought on your way home from work when you had the chance, and you shared what you got with Wade and Blind Al. For the most part, you made delivery stops to Wade’s place once every other week, walking into the space with a couple of pans of food and placing it on the nearest kitchen counter. You’d stay for a few minutes talking to either Wade or Althea, giving each of them a friendly kiss on the cheek or the top of their head before heading home.

Logan wouldn’t always be around when you visited the other two, missing you by a few minutes when he would be fulfilling a job or out and about. Still, when he was home, he’d be in the background observing you, talking to everyone while keeping himself at arm’s length. You supposed he had the whole grumpy, mysterious vibe that made him tough to approach. So, instead, you’d offer him a cordial wave and a mutter of his name, at least something that acknowledges him when he was in the same space as you.

Week by week, your face became a regular thing for Logan, mainly on Saturdays when you joined Wade in watching whatever current reality TV show was occupying your attention. The brutish man would be on his way to the local bar when you rang the doorbell, dressed in some comfy loungewear and your tote bag full of snacks.

Logan made it a habit not to intrude on your time with Wade. He was already with him for most of the day, the least he could do was respect your time when granted. That didn’t mean he wasn’t wondering what you were like outside of being friends with his companion.

Eventually, he got his moment.

A Thursday afternoon rolled around when Logan came home from the gym to an empty apartment, a rare occurrence he planned to relish. A note on the fridge from Wade mentioned he was out with Big Al and Mary Puppins doing God knows what, not that he wanted to know nor ask. He took a shower to rinse off the grime from his workout, threw on a ribbed tank and sweats, and headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Popping the bottle cap off, he managed to take one sip before the front doorbell rang, his eyes squinting at the entrance and internally sighing as his moment of tranquility was interrupted.

Leaving the bottle on the counter and opening the door, he was surprised to find you on the other side of the threshold with a covered tin foil pan, no doubt containing something edible. You were still in your work clothes: a pencil skirt and button-down shirt on your body with heels to match, your purse hanging off one of your shoulders.

“Oh, hey, Logan. Came to drop this stuff off for Wade. Do you mind?”

“Nah, ain’t a problem,” Logan shifted to the side to grant you entry, eyeing the back of your head as you wandered past him and into the kitchen.

“I’m guessing Wade and Al are out?” you asked the man as you handled your business, inserting the tin pan into the fridge and closing it with your hip.

“Yeah. Probably doing something I shouldn’t worry about.” You laughed at that, a light sound that he preserved in the imprints of his consciousness.

“Let’s hope they don’t bring back some cocaine. Lord knows the last thing that lady needs is a sniff of powder.” It was Logan’s turn to chuckle, the rumble of a hum you considered equivalent to a laugh.

“So it’s just you in here?” you said as you placed your work bag on the nearest surface, an attempt to rest your arm from lugging the extra weight around.

“Just me,” his broad shoulders lifted and dropped as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “They’ll be back in a bit. You can wait for them if you want, and I can head out.”

“You don’t need to do that. Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” you raised an eyebrow at him as his features softened at your inquiry.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the right word,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest again, the muscles in his biceps tightening as he did so. “You and Wade, you’re close, were close before I got here. Not trying to bother what you two have going on.”

You hummed then, standing straight on one leg and entering a more relaxed stance. Logan could tell by your body language that you weren’t disturbed or intimidated by him, which he assumed was a good sign.

“Sure, I’ve known Wade and Al for a while, but I don’t mind having you around. You’re a little hard to talk to. Figured you were one of those types who liked to brood in silence, at least from what Wade told me.”

“What exactly did he tell you about me?” Logan contested, looking directly at you when he could.

“Do you want to hear the pg-13 or the explicit version? He had a lot to say. Not sure you’d be too happy about it, though,” Logan’s lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Knowing Wade, he probably said more than enough, and everything under the sun that wasn’t true.

“Fucker has a big mouth,” he almost took back what he said until he caught your nod of agreement, easing him a bit.

“He doesn’t know when to stop talking, but I can’t hate him for it. He’s just…honest, maybe a little too honest,” you claimed. “If you’re that worried about what he said, I didn’t take any of it literally. You’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

Logan’s sight bounced to you, curiosity laced in your stare as you glanced at him. For a moment, he was taking another read at you again, debating if you were as trustworthy as Wade makes you seem. He sensed your heartbeat and the steady pulse at your neck, even in pace, without a singular beat missing in rhythm. You were already here, and he reasoned he’d have to get used to all of Wade’s acquaintances sooner or later. Why not add you to the mix?

“Guess so,” his lips slightly turned upwards as his focus remained on you, deeming it acceptable to quit hiding in the background. A beat of silence filled the kitchen, one watching the other and your eyes unmoving from Logan’s face. For a split second, your pulse spiked with an intake of breath and releasing it, shaking you out of the sudden trance.

“I gotta go, but tell the deadly duo that there’s tiramisu in the fridge. You can take a piece too, I know they can be stingy,” you grabbed your work bag and threw it over your shoulder again, heading for the front door and offering Logan one last smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

There you were, out the door again and off to your place with only the conversation you shared and the tiramisu you brought as proof of your presence. Logan huffed a breath and reached for the beer bottle sitting on the counter, making his way to the couch. He plopped down, sipping away at the lukewarm beverage and throwing his head back along the edge, staring at the ceiling with your words playing on loop in the space between his ears.

Don’t be a stranger.

He tries to deny the slight tug of warmth fluttering in his chest, manifesting into an exhale and a shake of his head, followed by another sip of his drink to wash it down.

He makes sure he won’t be.

Integrating Logan into your established dynamic with Wade and Althea was seemingly effortless. You didn’t make a big fuss about forcing him into joining the weekly TV binging when he was home, but it was nice to hear more of your voice directed at him occasionally. Whenever you stopped by Wade’s place with baked pastries or dishes, Logan hovered in the backdrop, returning your gestures when you threw one his way.

He liked having you around, not to mention the food you dropped off would fill him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. Once, you handed Wade these red velvet cookies Althea liked from a downtown bakery. Logan side-eyed them munching away at the baked goods, silently judging them for satisfying their sweet tooth to such an extent. His facade was maintained until the middle of the night when Wade and Al were asleep in the bedroom, walking on muted footsteps to finish the rest of the cookies in the pan. He goes back to playing the part of being the nonchalant roommate once the sun rises, pretending to be shocked when Wade starts pointing fingers and gets into a blaming match with the blind woman he shares a bed with.

It was a matter of time before you offered more than just food, keeping the newest member of your friendly circle in mind the next time you decided what to bring to the household. There was a double knock on the door, and Wade was on the other end, waiting for you with girlish excitement.

“Hey, Wadey. Hi Althea,” you wiggled your fingers at the elderly woman. Dropping the pans on the dinner table, everyone gathered around the middle of the apartment, anxiously lingering to see what you had brought.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this all fucking week,” Wade approved happily, nudging you by the shoulder. “Show daddy the goods! Come to papa.”

You giggled and unwrapped two tin containers, unveiling baked lasagna and penne a la vodka. You could practically hear everyone’s stomach rumbling at the collective awe of the food in front of them, still warm to the touch as the scent of the meal wafted through the apartment.

“Thought Italian would be good, so I called this restaurant a while ago to set some dishes aside for pick-up. Got devil’s food cake too, I hope you’re in the mood for chocolate,” you voiced, smacking Wade’s hand away that threatened to dip into the pasta.

“Honestly, I think we should get married. You don’t even have to see me at all. As long as you bring me food like this, I’ll give you one kill a week.” Wade’s proposal made you smirk. Though it was tempting, you knew better than to get associated with the mess of his job.

“Don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you gestured to Logan, who rolled his eyes. “I did bring something for the grump, too. Consider it a very late welcome to this world gift.”

He watched as you handed him a paper bag, your fingers wrapping around what appeared to be the neck of a bottle. Logan held the familiar weight in his large hands, peeling back the bag to drag out a nicely sized whiskey bottle, Johnnie Walker, to be exact.

He didn’t realize how high his eyebrows raised at receiving a gift, much less something from you. The food containers did get bigger after Wade complained about somebody eating everything after 24 hours. But knowing you were somehow thinking about him revived that pulse in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, russet irises focused in your direction. “Really, this is nice.”

“It’s the least I could do since I’m always coming over here,” you said, appreciating Logan’s kindness and mirroring his grateful expression.

There it was again, the beat of silence that entranced the both of you when you entered the same room. The space between Logan’s ribs ached, a strange and unnerving thumping that carried a wave of unfamiliarity.

“Are we going to fucking eat or what?” Blind Al muttered out loud, disrupting the moment you shared with Logan.

“Aht aht, being greedy isn’t nice, Althea. I’m still pissed you ate the corner piece of the brownies I called dibs on last week,” Wade squinted his eyes as he blamed the elderly woman for a crime she didn’t commit. That was, in fact, Logan.

“Motherfucker, if we stand here any longer, the lasagna will get cold,” Althea criticized, the two bickering amongst themselves beside you. You shake your head in disbelief, going to the kitchen to grab some plates, with Logan following behind to help you bring the utensils and cups.

“You want to stay a while?” The suggestion tumbled out of him without thinking, anxious that he had just shot himself in the foot. When your smile reappeared, his worries passed.

“Yeah, I got time,” you held a few plates, heading to the dinner table to join the others in fighting over the pieces of lasagna.

Logan reached other milestones in your bond over the upcoming weeks when you invited them to dinner at your apartment to celebrate your recent job promotion. He didn’t know why he stressed about which shirt to wear or how to style his hair, wanting to put some effort into his appearance this time. Deciding on a red flannel and a leather jacket, he didn’t say a word when Wade was messing around with wigs to wear for the evening.

After a few threats of slicing Wade’s head off if he didn’t hurry the fuck up, they were on their way to your place. An 8-minute walk around the neighborhood and a buzz of the intercom later, you happily greeted the two men at the front door. Stepping aside to let them both pass, you briefly eyed the breadth of Logan’s back flexing under his jacket as he trekked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Al didn’t come along?” you questioned, half expecting the elderly woman to join you.

“Nope, she’s fast asleep. You know how old people are, strict curfews and powdery smells,” Wade quipped, glancing around the table to see what you had prepared.

“Surprised you don’t have a wig on right now,” you lightly jested, straightening the collar of Wade’s polo and approving of his outfit choice.

“I was deciding between a short bob and a tapered fade when Logan threatened to tear me limb from limb. I think that’s his way of flirting.”

At the mention of the other male, your gaze landed on him as he surveyed his surroundings. Your apartment was nice, small yes, but homey, just enough for one person. The living room consisted of your TV and a plush couch, a colorful blanket thrown over its edge, and a leather armchair beside the windows draped in sheer curtains. Two sets of bookshelves rested on the walls closest to the entryway, a collection of books and knick-knacks filled the shelves, a mix of genres from thrillers to romance to fantasy. He took in the setting of your space one last time before pivoting to face you.

“Sorry, Wilson, but you’re not my type,” Logan replied, his hands digging into the pocket of his jeans.

“He’s in denial and emotionally constipated. Don’t worry, Wolvie. I will wait for you forever, as long as you return home to me.” Logan ignored him, mumbling a quiet shut the fuck up under his breath.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, and Logan used it as an opportunity to learn more about you. Through conversing with Wade, he discovered you work at a media studio further downtown. Initially, you were just a journalist pitching stories that would sometimes be published or given the spotlight. Your promotion now makes you the head of your department, giving you more creative control over the stories you want to be told, something you’ve worked hard to get. In your own words, you were happy that bitch Janice at your office didn’t get the role, and now she will have to deal with you being her superior.

Logan liked how you smiled from ear to ear after being so accomplished, and when he mentioned he was glad it worked out, the way your face lit up wasn’t overlooked.

Munching into the lamb chop you cooked for tonight, Wade retells the stories of the recent mercenary jobs he’s completed with Logan by his side, throwing innuendos and graphic details of his missions between every couple of sentences. You listened to him talk, drinking your wine and resting your chin on your hand, nodding and providing commentary when needed.

At some points in the conversation, Logan would jump in when Wade allowed him to, roping him in to tell you about the cool shit he can do with his claws. Your eyes sparkled at Logan’s words, hanging on to whatever came out of him and holding it close as if it would be the last time you’d hear him speak. He couldn’t bring himself to deny that having your attention on him felt good, and when he let Wade control the dialogue again, his eyes would stay on you for a second longer, sipping on the beer you saved for him.

He hopes you didn’t notice.

Other times, Logan joined you and Wade on the couch for reality TV and movie nights, something he figured would help him become more of a social butterfly. Though he didn’t always understand the current events of 90 Day Fiancé or Love Island USA, you didn’t mind catching him up on the episode that played despite Wade itching to give out spoiler warnings.

You’d be situated between them on the small couch, the popcorn bowl on your lap, and sharing it with Wade, who wore his patterned PJs. Although Logan was relatively quiet while you watched the TV screen, you’d let him take a handful of popcorn, washing it down with a drink to enjoy a somewhat tasteful combination.

What he didn’t expect from you was how welcoming you were of his touch. Of course, given that the couch wasn’t that large, you’d be hip to hip with Logan and Wade on either side of you. The larger man did his best to stay in his corner of the couch and to manspread less to give you space, but you stayed close to him.

Maybe too close.

One night, his arm slipped from its perch on the edge of the couch, dropping on your shoulder and causing you to jolt from the sudden contact.

“Shit, my bad,” he was fast to mutter an apology, but you were just as quick to shake your head, quelling his worries.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, really.” You were permitting him to leave his arm on your shoulders, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, the heavy bulk of muscle making a new home over the width of your back.

The fleeting touches persisted when you watched Australia for Wade’s sake, suddenly growing fascinated with the main male character and proclaiming Logan somehow favored him. He grumbled, zoning out of the movie and not realizing Wade had fallen asleep within the first hour. It was just you and him for a while until you also dozed off near the two-hour mark, still with 45 minutes left.

Logan had lost track of the plot within the first 30 minutes, so he no longer cared for the film. He focused on your torso, slowly leaning into his body on the couch, gravitating toward his warmth. Instinctively, he moved his arm on your shoulder, bringing you closer so you were flush with his chest, snuggling against the stability of his figure.

Logan swears he could hear a happy hum fall from your lips in the form of a sigh, getting more than comfortable against the man who had become a new addition to your life. If you were awake, he was sure you could hear how hard his heart was beating inside of him, providing a comforting squeeze to your arm to signal he was still here with you.

For the next little while, he’ll enjoy his current position without qualms, and he can imagine just for a second that this was a part of your usual interactions. This is as close as he’s going to get anyway.

“You like her.” Wade’s voice filtered through the static noise of Logan’s channel surfing, settling on a Tom and Jerry episode that played in the background, his head twisting to scrutinize the pain in the ass he called a roommate.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know,” he grinned mischievously, “Honey bunches, you have the hots for her.”

The neurons in Logan’s brain fired at rapid speed as he comprehended what his friend was insinuating. Sure, he liked having you around and looked forward to when you stopped by every week to sit on the couch. He ignores how you smell or breathe next to him or how you don’t mind when his arm is on your shoulder. He doesn’t care that you inch the slightest bit closer to him, hip to hip, eyes still on the screen during movie nights. He dismisses how you look at him, how you smile when he’s in your space, and how his heart skips a beat when it happens.

“No, I don’t." He knew he was lying.

“Really?” Wade’s Cheshire smile broadened, dissecting Logan by the minute. “You sure, Logan? Are you sure your stone-cold skeleton doesn’t melt when you graze your fingers together?”

“What is this? Couple’s therapy? Shut the fuck up and drop it.” Logan’s mask was cracking the more Wade badgered him about his suppressed emotions, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the truth from his friend or himself.

“Oh shit…Wolvie, you’re in denial. Are you scared of rejection?” Wade covered his mouth in faux shock, taking Logan’s deep scowl with pride as he hit a nerve. “It’s alright, Casanova, no need to be worried about your unrequited love life. I’ve watched enough episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette to put romancers to shame. I will make this happen.”

“Wade. Drop it.” The threat came out with a paired growl, the mutant’s fingers curling into a tight fist as the skin of his knuckles split to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“This is now a telenovela baby. Just imagine how much we’d make with you two as the leads. ‘Loving the Wolverine.’ The title is a work in progress, but we’ll revisit that later.”

“Wilson.” Logan’s nostrils flared, the metal claws fully out with a sharp schling. The vein in his forehead bulged as his blood pressure skyrocketed from his anger, ready to slice the man any second now.

“You can be angry all you want, but feelings are feelings. And if you don’t say something soon, I fucking will!” The apartment filled with a loud squeal as Logan pierced Wade’s thigh with one hand, the other aiming for his torso, puncturing him through his hoodie.

As pissed as Logan wanted to be towards Wade, he knew he was right. Whatever sentiments had developed between you and him were undefined, and he hated himself for believing there was a chance it could be anything beyond friendly. You were younger than him, a given anyway, with an established life he didn’t want to ruin or get too involved with. Why would you choose him when you could have anyone else?

It wouldn’t work, not in his book. As Logan continued to puncture Wade’s body like a voodoo doll in the name of stress relief, he still had a hard time ignoring how he felt. He doesn’t think he will anytime soon.

His inner turmoil peaked when Wade hosted another get-together at the apartment, and of course, he invited you. He mentioned this would be a chance to set you guys up, and Logan tried his hardest not to shove his claws into his head or ruin the vibe before the party started.

The people closest to the host bustled into the apartment the following Friday night, along with the few new additions brought back from the void. Logan was entertained by talking to Laura and watched the entryway every few minutes to see when you’d walk through it. The time couldn’t come soon enough, the familiar notes of your scent hit his nose the second Wade opened the front door to let you inside, showing the assortment of alcohol bottles you brought to make cosmopolitans.

From where he sat on the couch, he studied your appearance. He raked his eyes over the casual jeans that hugged your thighs and the low neckline of your top, the jewelry adorning your neck brought more than enough attention to the dip of your collarbones.

Logan must’ve been starting too hard when you caught him in the act, your mouth bending up when you noticed him. Without a word, he only smiled at you, drinking his beer to wash down the incessant pounding in his body.

You busied yourself with making drinks in the kitchen, periodically darting to watch Logan while he mingled as much as his social battery allowed. You chatted with the other partygoers, catching up with Vanessa to ask how things were going with Wade and talking to the bubbly Yukio, who stood beside her girlfriend as you joined in teasing the host for the party hat on his head.

Everyone eventually had a red solo cup in their hand, uttering their thanks to you as the influx of a new alcoholic thirst quencher streamed through their bodies. The space to the right of Logan was empty after Laura rose to steal more chips from the dinner table. You took your chance, having a plastic cup in one hand as you strolled over to the gentleman sitting comfortably on the couch.

“That seat taken?” you asked, the bister eyes you’ve come to adore ran over your features, glinting slightly under the hanging light above.

“It’s free now,” Logan jerked his head to gesture you to sit beside him, the smell of your perfume hitting his senses when you walked past him. He swallowed his beer again, hoping it would help curb his growing urges.

“Avoiding me, huh?” The lively tone of your voice conveyed something he couldn’t precisely define despite it making him nervous. “Didn’t get up to say hi or anything…”

“You were busy making drinks for everybody, wanted to have you focused. Don’t want anyone to get alcohol poisoning from fucked up proportions.” You chuckled at his words, rolling your eyes and spinning the ice in your cup.

“Surprised you’re even here. Did Wade force you to stay around this time?”

Yes, he did. That was what he wanted to say, but one glance at your face, and he couldn’t be mad that he listened to the bastard for once.

“Decided to be a little social,” he answered calmly, the tip of his bottle lined up with his lips.

“You? Social? That’s a first.”

“Are you complaining, bub?” he remarked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing attitude.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head, giddy in anticipation of what qualified as “social” for the man next to you. “Nothing wrong with trying new things.”

The world tuned out as you conversed with the older mutant, taking every word in stride. Believe it or not, Logan could talk for a while if you ignore the curse words he adds every other sentence. Still, it was nice to just talk to him, even if your sight wandered. On your second cosmo and probably Logan’s fourth beer, the distance between you on the couch closed with each shift of your hips, leaning into the back of the couch and facing him while he rested against the length of it.

With each passing word from Logan, you watched his jaw flex and his lips part as he spoke—counting the wrinkles of skin beside the slight hints of gray at his temples. You took another sip of your mixed drink, discreetly running your eyes down the column of his throat and his collarbone, peering at the coarse hair that peeked from his flannel’s first two undone buttons.

You didn’t know if he could read the signs of your desires or sense the palpable tension brewing in the air, but you remained willfully ignorant. Oblivious to you, the notion was reciprocated when you spoke, rambling about stuff with your job to bits and pieces of your childhood. Logan’s eyes never left your face, landing on the shimmer of your glossy lips or the pendant that dangled on your chest when you weren’t looking.

In the next breath, the topic changed to something concerning Wade’s most embarrassing instances and jokes that would only come from him. Logan must’ve said something right when you broke out in a fit of laughter, deep and hearty, as it came straight from your stomach and emitted through your chest. He didn’t say anything to disturb your moment, commemorating your eyes scrunching up and your mouth opening wide to laugh harder. He didn’t jolt when you smacked his sternum a few times, the warmth of your touch radiating through the layers of his clothes.

He craved more of it.

“I think you’re spending too much time with Wade. He’s rubbing off on you,” you calmed down from your laughing fit and wiped the tears that threatened to spill.

“Maybe. Gotta tolerate the guy,” Logan was carefree as he spoke despite the stirring emotions.

Your hand was still on his chest, resting comfortably on his body. You didn’t move it as quickly as you should, nor would Logan tell you to take it away. Grazing your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, you whizzed lowly to yourself, the alcohol pumping through your body, loosening your inhibitions as you continued to touch him.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, you pulled your hand away, looking over his shoulder to see Peter showing off the chain that connected his nipples to whatever was underneath his pants. Downing the rest of your beverage, you placed the cup on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“I think that’s my cue to leave. It’s getting late anyway.” The nagging voice in your head pressed a question you wanted to admit, an invitation you knew wouldn’t work if asked incorrectly. Thankfully, you didn’t need to speak out loud.

“Let me walk you home,” Logan suggested through the racket, firm and determined in his proposition. “Could use the fresh air if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t need much effort to say yes.

“Sure.” You rose from the couch to say goodbye to everyone, giving kisses on the cheek and hugs when warranted, your last stop being Wade. He looked between you and Logan, throwing the older man a thumbs up as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Side by side, you walked down the block, Logan keeping you on the opposite side of the street and serving as a barrier between you and the road. He didn’t reach out for your hand despite the urge to hold you steady, nor did you hold on to his bicep as you strode beside him. But you both talked on your joint stroll, confessing things amongst yourselves that would otherwise be omitted by all the noise.

He followed you through the lobby of your apartment complex, up the flights of stairs that dropped you off on the second floor to your front door. He remained vigilant, standing behind your figure as you inserted your key into the lock, guarding you until your door opened and looming as you spun to face him again.

“Thank you for walking me. It was nice,” you expressed, the cosmopolitans you consumed earlier heightened the glassiness in your eyes.

“Ain’t a problem. It was good to get off the couch,” his hands went to his pockets. “You gonna be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m a big girl. I can handle a little alcohol,” you snorted, the sound bringing a grin to his face.

As your hazy vision landed on him, he felt the pull in his chest again, the one that comes when time and space stop moving in that beat of silence shared only between you two. He sensed the change in your demeanor, the increased pumping of your heart, and the rush of your blood flowing faster.

Logan halted his breathing when you stepped forward. You preemptively set a hand on his chest and tipped upwards to kiss his stubbled cheek.

“Really, thank you, Logan.” Your serene voice was muted when you said his name, sweet on your tongue that drew him in like a siren’s song. He’d do anything to hear you say it like that again, and again, and again.

“Any time,” you held his gaze, eyes going from his tawny pupils to the tip of his nose and plush lips. He was right there, right in front of you, and the only thing you had in mind was to get a proper feel of him.

There was a jolt of hesitation, taking a step back to get more space between you until you felt the heavy weight of Logan’s palm reaching for your hip. He kept you in place, squeezing your frame and curling his hand to your lower back. Your heart hammered in your ribcage, glimpsing up at him one more time as his head tilted towards you, the only signal you needed to get what you both yearned for.

Your lips landed on his, soft and gentle, testing his reaction. Logan didn’t let you venture too far from him, holding you close and kissing you more fervently, opening his mouth to make room for your tongue as it traced his bottom lip. The groan that reverberated deep within him grew louder when your hands went up to drive through his hair, changing your position to have your back against the entryway of your apartment.

You whimpered when he squeezed your waist, a sound that would haunt his dreams for the next upcoming nights, causing him to push further against you. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his flannel, seeking more of him than you could reach. The metal of his belt buckle pressed into your lower stomach, a faint moan tumbling out of your mouth that Logan hungrily swallowed.

“Do you want to come inside?” you breathlessly invited him as you pulled away, face heated to the touch and body thrumming with a need you didn’t expect. He could read your reactions, almost smell your arousal in the air, but the last thing he wanted to do was fall into the pattern he was familiar with when it came to partners. You deserved better than that, better than just a fun night, even if that’s what you wanted.

“I want to, I do,” Logan tried to say, already noticing your look of disappointment at his upcoming rejection. “But, maybe we can try this again when you don’t taste like fucking vodka and cranberries?” You laughed a bit, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, relishing the tingling sensation left behind from his kisses.

“Thought you didn’t mind alcohol?”

“Vodka isn’t my favorite. More of a dark liquor kind of guy.” Even as he spoke to you, his hands stayed on your body, a reassuring weight you didn’t want to leave your midriff.

“Then you can make it up to me with dinner. That sounds good?” You were cheeky in your response, refusing to let the prospect pass you by, and Logan wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he warmed at your proposal and accepted one more kiss as he let you part from him.

“I’ll see you around, Logan.”

It was the last thing you said to him before you closed your front door, leaving him in the hallway to deal with the feelings washing over him. He could still discern your heart beating on the other side of the door, probably grounding your breathing and walking further into your apartment. His eyes fell to his feet, mind running a mile a minute and exhaling, deciding to take the longer way home back to Wade and Blind Al.

The apartment was empty when he came back. Althea had fallen asleep in bed, and Wade was busy cleaning up the leftover mess in the dining room. The lopsided party hat was still on his head, brown eyes scanning Logan’s features and analyzing him.

“Well, that was fast. Thought you’d last a bit longer, peanut,” Wade mocked with a grin, detecting the leftover gloss on Logan’s lips and a spot on his face. “I’m guessing Cupid was successful tonight?”

“Not another word,” Logan was back to his prickly mood, murmuring under his breath that he was going to the bathroom to take a piss, locking the door behind him.

He looked in the mirror and noticed the faint shimmer of your lip gloss still on his features, leaving your mark on him without realizing it. He chuckled, smirked wide to himself, and privately enjoyed the remnants of your touch.

He’ll make a note to pick places to take you out in the morning. For now, he’ll appreciate this feeling for as long as possible.

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