#so is there no way of doing anything right or am i just an asshole and a loser with memory so bad i cant recall what happened last week

[rafelandia]

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

[eliemo]

"Fuck off."

Wade, the persistent little motherfucker that he is, predictably doesn't fuck off.

He doesn't even look particularly put off by the outburst, pursing his lips like Logan is nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum he doesn't mean, and all that serves to do is piss him off even more.

"I thought we were past this, peanut," he says. Logan is torn between hitting him and begging him to keep talking so he drowns out the sounds of the storm outside. "I get it, tough guy. You're so big and bad, yes you are. You're so cool and my dick is oh so hard. Happy? Now come here."

He decides he does actually want to hit Wade, but before he can make his hands move another clap of thunder shakes the walls, lighting flashing across the blinds. He jumps, hands flying defenselessly to his chest.

It's like someone set off a gun right next to his face, his ears ringing ringing ringing- and he's back in the dirt, eyes watering against the stench of blood and death and sick and the gunfire won't stop and he can't move-

"Logan, come on."

Wade's voice, exasperated as it is, is an anchor right back to the surface, back to their shabby little new york apartment away from the war and the suffering and the pain, and it's bullshit.

He's standing in front of him with a blanket and headphones in his arms, like he's decided to do every single time there's a thunderstorm or a firework celebration since he found out about Logan's embarrassing little trigger.

It's bullshit, it's such bullshit, and to make matters worse he's usually too blinded by panic and exhaustion to put up much of a fight.

He let it happen. He let Wade be soft and worried and caring, and Logan let himself want it. And now, without Wade's hands against his back and the weight of the blanket over his shoulders, the storm feels a thousand times louder. The flashbacks feel a million times more real.

He wants Wade- fuck that he needs Wade. He can't make it through this without him, he can't even sleep without the idiot snoring against his side, and that can't continue. He can't let this happen again.

"Why do you always fight me?" Wade asks, exasperated. The annoyance poking through his voice is good. It's good. If Logan keeps pushing those limits, he'll give up. He'll leave before it becomes too much.

The thought already makes him sick. He knows it's too late.

"Is it because the headphones are pink?" Wade asks, trying to worm his way under Logan's skin. "Too proud for a little feminity? That's not very progressive of you, peanut. That's not gonna fly with Tumblr in this climate."

"Shut the fuck up," Logan growls, because it's getting harder not to give in and slump forward and close his eyes against Wade's chest until the storm dies down. "Just shut the fuck up! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"No can do, honey badger," Wade says, and he sounds angry, frustrated, but he doesn't back down. He never fucking does. "It goes against the roommate code to let you sit there torturing yourself for no good reason. Because I know it's not me. I know you like me, you grumpy bear, and I know it's been helping to get wrapped up nice and snug when New York starts New Yorking with its weather. It's okay that you need-"

Logan snaps.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

He's louder than the next clap of thunder, but it doesn't feel that way. He feels so small against it.

"Do you ever stop fucking talking? Are you that far up your own ass? I don't like you. I never fucking liked you, you stupid little prick. I'm stuck with you. Do you fucking get that? I can't get you to leave me the fuck alone! I don't want anything to do with a pathetic, attention starved shit for brains asshole who can't take a fucking hint but here I am! Because you stranded me here! You stranded me in your dimension because you were too stupid to save the world by yourself. Because you're not a hero, you're a goddamn car salesman who can't make rent and can't get anyone to put up with you long enough to do anything but show up for a birthday party once a year. I don't want you and I sure as shit don't need you. I never fucking needed you, don't flatter yourself. I don't need fucking anyone. Can you get that through your thick fucking skull? Does your brain function enough to get that, Wade? I said leave me alone."

It takes a few seconds of suffocating silence for Logan to register all the things he just said. For the red to fade from his vision, for the words he didn't mean to sit like something stale on his tongue.

And the hatred for himself is heavy, because he always does this, but... fuck, maybe it's for the best. He's not sure if he's trying to push Wade to hit him or kick him out or walk away, but no matter what he'll hate him.

And he won't be able to stomach that, not after letting himself love again, but it's easier to handle the loss when he can control it. He can make Wade leave before Wade decides to leave him.

The silence is the worst part. It reminds him of the Honda Odyssey, the way Deadpool had been silent, still, for the first time since Logan had known him. It was eerie, blank white eyes picking him apart before throwing that first punch.

It's different now. It's worse. There's no mask to cover up Wade's reaction, no weapons on his back, but he's somehow just as blank. He's quiet for too long.

"You know," Wade says after another beat, and Logan braces himself. "That would have been a lot more believable if you didn't start crying halfway through."

"I'm not crying," Logan snaps automatically, but his face is wet and stinging when he reaches up to touch it. "Fuck-"

He's cut off by another round of thunder, the loudest one yet, and Logan jumps so hard he loses his balance on wobbling legs, crashing backwards onto the waiting couch. He slams his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself hating this, wishing it would just stop, make it all stop-

Arms wrap tight around him, despite the threat of claws resting just beneath the surface. Logan doesn't stab him, as much as a part of him wants to.

All he can do is curl forward and choke on a pathetic sob, frustration and panic and dread choking the life out of him while Wade just stubbornly holds on.

"Please," Logan begs, because threats and anger and hatred aren't working. "Please. Please don't do this, don't fucking do this to me."

"Do what?" Wade demands, and he still sounds pissed, rightfully so, but he doesn't let go. "Hold you?"

"Yes." It's pathetic, and it's stupid, and Logan contradicts his own damn pleas by letting Wade hold his head to his chest and run his fingers through his hair. "I can't-"

"Drop the tough guy act," Wade says, but that's not what it is. It's never been about that. "Come on, Logan, seriously. Please. It's okay to need this. I wouldn't be offering if I didn't want to."

"It's not like that." Logan's muffled against Wade's shirt, clutching at him with shaking hands like a pathetic child. "S' not fucking like that."

"Then tell me what it's like, Logan."

"I can't do this again." It all comes spilling out like poison, and Logan can't stop it. "I can't, Wade I can't- it's going to hurt so fucking bad when I lose you. I can't keep anyone or anything and you'll... you'll leave and I'll need you but you won't be here and it always hurts but I don't... fuck, Wade. I can't survive it again, I fucking can't."

He doesn't know what he's waiting for. Yelling, maybe. Or pity. He'd rather claw his own throat out than face either of those right now.

But Wade starts shaking, and there's a terrifying moment where Logan thinks he's crying, he made Wade cry- only for the world to screech to a halt when he realizes the asshole is laughing.

Logan scowls and tries to pull away, tips of his claws poking out from his knuckles, but Wade just squeezes him tighter to keep him in place.

"Something fucking funny, bub?"

"Yeah," Wade says, and it's bitter but he's still laughing. "Yeah, mostly the fact that you're a fucking idiot."

Logan grits his teeth. "Get off me-"

"No, you called me a pathetic attention starved asshole. I get to call you out for being a stupid moron."

It pisses him off, but he can't exactly argue with that.

"You're so stupid," Wade reiterates. "You're so so fucking dumb, Logan, holy shit you're such an idiot. And I thought I-"

"Is there a point?"

"You think you're gonna lose me?" Wade asks, and it's genuine but he doesn't give Logan time to answer. "You think I don't need you? You think you're not the best thing to ever happen to me in my miserable fucked over existence?"

"You-"

"I need you," Wade says, and Logan snaps his mouth shut. "I don't care if you can't admit the same thing, but I need you. You're the only one... you get me, okay? You're the only person in the entire universe who does. And you're the only one who tried. You know about the cancer and the chronic pain and the nightmares and fucking Francis and all my raging insecurities and yeah, sometimes you throw them back in my face when you're being a little bitch like today but hey, I've probably said worse to you."

"You haven't."

"Don't challenge me," Wade warns, and smiles. "I was so miserable, peanut. Like one day away from finding a mutant collar and letting the cancer finish the job levels of miserable."

The very image of that makes something ugly swirl in Logan's chest, a sickening storm of emotions waging war in his gut. Wade doesn't give him time to say anything about it.

"I still am, on bad days," he admits. "I'm always gonna be fucked in the head, but you don't care and you're the only one. you like me, I don't care what you said I know you like me. You could have fucked off to the woods like in Wolverine 2 and I would have let you, but you're still here sleeping on a pullout couch with me because you like me."

Logan swallows. His head is still resting against Wade's chest. He curls his hands in and out of fists, and the claws slowly sink back in.

"I do like you."

"There we go," Wade says. "I like you too, you know. Like, a lot. An unhealthy amount, really. I like coming home now. I like waking up to you burning toast and then blaming me for it. I like sitting and watching TV and drinking bad coffee with you and arguing about everything under the sun. I didn't think I could love again after all the shit the universe put me through and after Vanessa and the Avengers but I did and I do, and I'd rip a hole in the goddamn multiverse to bring you back if anyone tried to take you away from me. You're stuck with me, babygirl. So stop trying to get rid of me because it's not happening."

Logan pulls away, and this time Wade lets him. He meets his gaze head on, like he's challenging him to argue, daring him to try and keep pushing him away.

There's... there's a lot. A lot to unpack, a lot to mull over.

One piece of the puzzle is stuck on loop in his head, fragile, and he's not entirely sure he even heard it right.

"You love me?"

it sounds stupid coming out of his mouth, and he wonders if he should have ignored it when Wade's demeanor changes entirely, eyes going wide in barely concealed panic.

"Uh. I mean. In the sense that... that like- you know."

Logan stares, not sure what to say, and Wade grimaces.

"We can ignore that part. The rest of it is... I meant it, but we don't need to- I don't expect anything from you, peanut, I mean look at you and look at me I'm not gonna ask you to do anything that would scar you for life, I just mean that-"

Maybe it's the storm, fueling Logan with nothing but adrenaline and instinct. Or maybe it's the fact that he's never been very good with words anyway. Anything he tries to say here will end up clamming Wade up more.

So he just moves.

He grabs Wade by the shirt and drags him closer, closer, until he can cut off that self destructive rambling by pressing his lips over Wade's.

And Wade melts into him, making a small noise of surprise against the kiss before returning with just as much passion, eagerly grabbing Logan's shirt like he's worried he'll disappear if he lets go again.

The storm still sends Logan spiraling for the rest of the night. He knows better than to assume it'll ever really get better.

But Wade holds him the entire time, and it makes it a little easier. And kissing through the night isn't half bad, either.

Do you ever think about Logan being terrified of thunder and fireworks (too proud to ever ever admit it, of course he's not scared of shit) both because of PTSD from the wars and also because his enhanced hearing makes those sounds 100x louder for him than anyone else.

And how he's always been shut out and alone so it was easy to hide it and hide away until it's gone but now he's living in a tiny apartment with Wade so there's no way to keep avoiding it

WELL NOW I HAVE

And you're so fucking right, he'd never want to admit that he's scared of thunder storms and fireworks of all things, he's the fucking wolverine, he's seen things regular people can't even imagine, and he's scared by the fucking weather??

He tries so god damn hard every time to just be okay and power through it, he knows it can't hurt him, but every time no matter how prepared he is and how hard he tries, with the first crash hes spiralling, it feels like someone shot a gun right next to his face, his ears are ringing and his head starts hurting and he looks around and all he can see are trenches and guns and the dead bodies of his fellow soldiers. Before Wade, he'd always just find somewhere to hunker down and wait it out, pretty much in a constant state of flashbacks and panic attacks until it finally stopped.

This is just me projecting but I feel like Logan would feel safest in small spaces where he can shove himself into a corner, so he knows no one can sneak up on him, so he spent a lot of stormy nights and fourth of Julys shoved into the closest of a shitty motel.

I also think that it reminds him of the night the X-Men died, like most things do. He'd run off to go drink himself into a coma at a nearby bar, and a storm picked up while he was there. He didn't think anything of it at the time, but later realized that it had probably been Orroro's last attempts to save herself and her friends. He blames himself for not thinking of that at the time, just one more reason to hate himself.

But then he moves in with Wade, and it doesn't occur to him at first to even worry about it, so much happened so fast, storms and fireworks were pretty low on his list of concerns with a whole new universe.

Luckily, Wade isn't home when the storm hits, neither is Althea. Unluckily, Wade returns about 30 minutes after. He almost thinks Logan went out, since he isn't in his usual spot on the couch, or anywhere else for that matter, until Wade goes into the bedroom and hears the tiniest shifting sound coming from the closet.

Logan freezes when the door opens. He'd been hoping Wade would stay out until after the storm, but when did Logan ever get a lucky break? For a solid ten seconds, it's silent, Wade staring down at Logan, Logan remaining squished in the back corner of the closet, knees to his chest, looking like he can't decide whether he wants to stab Wade through the skull or bolt out of the apartment into the rain.

Wade opens his mouth to say..something, he hadn't actually figured out what yet but it didn't matter because before he got the chance there was another crack of thunder, and Logan jolted like the lightening had hit him square on his head. His eyes went distant and dark like they did when he just woke up from a nightmare and he slammed his hands over his ears, pressing his face into his knees. Wade felt kind of stupid, once he realized what was going on, of course Mr. Logan every-war-ever Howlett would have a problem with noises like that.

Wade panics, for a second, because scared of not, this is still Logan, and he's well aware of how Logan tends to feel about being caught in a vulnerable position, but then he sees Logan's hand shaking, and hears a sound that if he didn't know any better (he doesn't) he'd call a whimper (it was), and his heart just shatters, he can't stand seeing Logan this afraid, so he quickly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him. The closet is hardly big enough for one grown man to crouch in, much less two, but Logan is clearly in no state to leave, so Wade shoves himself into the corner between Logan and the door, careful not to lress up against him incase the touch is to overwhelming.

At this point, Logan has recovered slightly from the most recent crash of thunder, and he lifts his head, though he still won't look at Wade. He wants to be angry, mad at Wade for catching him like this, he wants to scowl and tell him to fuck off and leave him alone, but he's been panicking for thirty minutes now, flashing back with every clap of thunder, slowly starting to calm down only to be yanked right back into his own mind when it happens again, he's exhausted and just doesn't have the energy, so he just sighs, swallowing thickly to try and stop his voice from shaking and grumbling something about how he's fine, it's just loud, Wade can go about his day and he'll be out in a bit.

Wade honestly only understands about half of what he says, between the mumbling and the shaky voice and the storm outside, but he's sure as hell not gonna leave Logan to deal with this alone, and besides, the closet isn't to bad, kinda cozy once you give it a chance, and hey what're the odds they have a closet big enough for this in such a shitty apartment anyway? pretty plot convenient if you ask him. He ends up telling Logan all of this, partly to reassure him he doesn't mind but mostly to buy time while he figures out what to do. After a moment he lets out a quiet gasp and stands up, assuring Logan he'll be right back. Logan just nods and puts his head back on his knees, resigned to his fate of riding out his PTSD episode stuffed into a closet with fucking Deadpool.

Wade comes back a minute later with a small assortment of items in his arms, shuffling to sit back down. First, he sets down a small electric candle that he had laying around for some reason, because even if Logan can see in the dark closet, he can't, and he explains as much as he turns it on and the soft, warm light fills the space. Wade's heart breaks just a little more now that he can see Logan better, the way his whole body is shaking with every breath, the tear tracks covering his face, some dry, some fresh, but he does his best not to make to big a deal out of it and moves on.

I'm gonna put something on your head now, Peanut. You trust me? Wade asks, trying to keep his voice low and even.

No. Logan grumbles in response, but he leans towards Wade just slightly, and Wade places his gaming headset over Logan's ears. Logan pauses, evaluating, before giving a small nod and relaxing ever so slightly. He can still hear the storm, but it's better. Wade grins, trying desperately to keep his cool as he shows Logan the rest of his items. He brought a bag of Logan's favorite chips, a water bottle, and a bottle of whiskey.

They spend the next hour and a half in that closet together, alternating between Wade talking (much more quiet and restrained than usual) and Logan nodding occasionally in response, to out of it to say much but appreciating the distraction nonetheless and, with every crack of thunder, Logan panicking, and Wade doing his best to keep him tethered to reality.

It still sucks, storms probably always will for Logan, but it's better, and when the storm finally ends Wade leads him out of the closet, and he doesn't make a big deal out if it (like Logan feared), He doesn't make fun of him or think less of him, he gets it. And damn it if that doesn't make Logan feel more cared for and understood than he has in years, maybe ever, even if that fact alone pisses him off to no end.

[whatudottu]

Regarding your cerebrocrustacean headcanons mentioned in the previous ask: they very well could be somewhat canon given how, when asked if Albedo and Dr. Psychobos would be willing to work together, Derrick J. Wyatt responded with "Psychobos seems like a total team up slut, he'll team up with any villain any time" (his words, not mine).

Which he likely meant in the sense of "Psychobos is so power-hungry he'll team up with anyone in order to get ahead", but with your headcanons and the fact he never talks much about his personal life in mind, you could alternatively interpret it as "Psychobos is so desperately lonely he'll accept anyone he has even the slightest similarity with into his clique, even members of a species he's violently xenophobic towards" (probably to cope with/serve as a rebound for his mancrush Azmuth friendzoning him /lh /hj).

Now all of this is making me realize that it was a massive missed opportunity in Omniverse to not have Psychobos' demeanor do a complete 180 around the people he works with compared to everyone else (whether sincere or a thinly-veiled manipulation tactic) if not solely for a few jokes. Especially him acting like an affectionate father figure towards Malware (whether he likes it or not) solely so he can rub it in Azmuth's face that "I'm a FAR more attentive and caring parental figure towards your creation than YOU ever were, and I use the term loosely".

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DJW SAID 'TEAM UP SLUT' HAHAH WHAT!? dear god it's true it's on the wiki what the fuck what the fuck assdfjhghsdlfkgfkl-!

I mean, look at his already canon group; Khyber, allegedly the greatest huntsman in the galaxy, teaming up with Dr Psychobos to make a little watch that can sample (specifically predatory) animals; and Malware, a technology absorbing mutant mechamorph, working with the cybernetically enhanced (also listed as a mutant???) cerebrocrustacean in order to make said watch- if liking the concept of animals and incorporating machines as part of oneself is enough to get into Dr Psychobos' clique well, he's certainly stretched what that means far enough to at least snag two others into his initial team up. Same can't be said for Attea and the incurseans which seems to be more of a sponsor type relationship, and Maltruant commissioned him to repair his body but violated the trade agreement so whether or not Psychobos would do business with the incurseans again, he's already squarely sequestered Maltruant in the outest of out-groups :P

Hah, the 'Dr Psychobos adopting Malware specifically to stick it to Azmuth' bit reminded me of a signing-the-adoption-papers version of the 'I throw my used car batteries in the ocean' thing- something along the lines of; [psychobos voice] "You are the most calamitous individual I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I use the term loosely." [malware voice, threateningly] "I have devoured and absorbed the specs of the Omnitrix." [psychobos signing adoption papers] [malware, experiencing the affects of cerebrocrustacean in-grouping and having no frame of reference on how to deal with it] "What the fuck is happening-"

[explode-this]

.

[semisentient-entity]

it's a shitty night tonight and I am handling it horribly 😎

[ghosthoard]

PART 7

parts 01 02 03 04 05 06

After everybody but Time and Twilight had washed, the gruel was steaming and ready. 

All Legend can attest to was that it was warm. Watery, bland, and barely really food, but warm. 

“Come eat,” he said to the camp at large, tapping the ladle against the side of the pot because he guessed that’s just what people did. Wild would do it.

The youngest first, Time had insisted when they first became a group, not yet family. Wind had had a tantrum at that. Like being called young was a grave insult (Legend still remembered when he was that age, he probably wouldn’t take being treated like a kid well either). But once he ate a spoonful of Wild’s cooking, Wind hoarded that youngest privilege and bragged about it to everyone’s face like the brat he was. Since he was the first to get his food, he was also usually the first to get seconds which he could never finish and usually passed off to one of the others.

The kid came up to Legend, silent and gloomy and not as annoying as he should be. His eyes were still red.

He filled Wind’s bowl up to the brim. Youngest first. Then as he was passing it back and before he could say anything in an embarrassing attempt to comfort him, the sailor looked down at his food and said, 

“Ew.”

A laugh almost startled out of Legend, that one word settling his worries more than anything else could’ve. He smirked, genuinely delighted. “Alright, you cheeky little snot. No seconds for you.”

Wind left with his tongue sticking out. 

Four was next. The other night when he left the camp for privacy after tasting his pilaf, Legend wondered why he wouldn’t just split. He knew the four of them probably needed some time apart, it would personally drive him nuts trying to grieve while stuck with three other people.

Legend still remembers when he first met the colors. Seeing confirmation for the first time that the earliest of his nightmares was the young man he had unwillingly grown to care for like a brother had him falling into bad habits. He lashed out and threw insults and sulked and avoided Four as much as possible. It came to the point that Time told him to get it together. 

Four had found him trying to “get it together” on the roof of their inn that night. The fresh air and being away from the others for a bit was what had drawn him to the place, but of course his brothers couldn’t leave well enough alone. He heard Four carefully walk over to him and settle next to him. 

The quiet was a deceptive peace. And sure enough the little asshole broke it by saying, “You’re really easy to read, you know.”

Legend groaned, rubbing at his face and curling up. Maybe if he ran now he could escape this talk forever, live without his brothers reading him for filth for the rest of his short, miserable life. 

He could hear the grin in Four’s voice as he continued, “But maybe it’s just because I know Blue too well. You two are alike. Too cool to care, right? ‘Nobody will see how scared I am if they’re too busy being angry at me’, is the go-to strategy right?”

“Which one of you is talking right now?” Legend said from his huddle, “I’ll make sure to remember for the next time you split.”

Four laughed, bright and in the way Legend knew the smith’s nose was crinkling. “I’m just me right now. I only ever really hear the colors separately when they disagree on something or I’m emotionally compromised.”

“So that just means I can hit you now and be done with it.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Four challenged.

Legend chuckled, untensing, letting the quiet settle more comfortably around them.

Eventually, Four spoke up again, carefully neutral, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t split around you, I know it’s strange.”

Legend straightened quickly, snapping around to look at the smith, “No! No, that’s— that’s not the problem. It’s a cool bit of magic.”

Now face to face with his brother, Legend managed to catch the sad heaviness of Four’s face before he hid it with a cocky, self-satisfied tilt of his head. “Told you the Four Sword is impressive.” 

But Legend wasn’t having it, “Four, I mean it, don’t keep yourself from splitting because you think I’m uncomfortable. I’d like to know the colors better.”

For a moment, the two just looked at each other on that rooftop during a warm, summer night. Four seemed to be searching for something in Legend with that discerning gaze that made everyone rely on the small hero in one way or another, and Legend hoped he was making it easy for him to find it without having to come out and tell Four the truth of exactly why he was so bothered by finding out about the Four Swords magic. 

In the end, Four smiled wide, proving once again that having the hero’s spirit meant you were a menace when he said, “Aw, Hyrule’s right, you are a sap.”

And for that Legend had to jump him. Four kept laughing even when they both fell off the roof and into the hay down below.

To this day, Legend wondered if Four didn’t take him for his word, because the smith didn’t split even once since that first reveal, and god would he hate being the one keeping them all from spending time with their brothers.

“You sure you don’t want to split?” Legend said as he passed Four his food.

Four huffed and lifted an eyebrow. “So I have to experience your cooking four times? No thanks.”

Seems like his brothers wanted to fight today, huh? 

Legend pointed the ladle at him threateningly. “Watch it, or I’ll spit in your food enough for all four of you.”

“Can’t ruin something that’s already ruined,” Four said before hurrying out of spit range with his food.

Legend huffed, turning to the next person in line. 

It was Hyrule, still refusing to look at or acknowledge him.

The magical exhaustion seemed to be mostly gone now, Legend noted in his cursory appraisal. 

While he had been fighting with the porridge, Sky had forced Hyrule to take a green potion, and to Legend’s absolute shock, had even gotten the stubborn traveler to take two extra green potions to keep in his bag. He honestly hadn’t believed his eyes and almost let the porridge burn. What sort of magic had Sky used to convince Hyrule to accept two extra green potions after already taking one?! Din, if he only had Twilight’s dog ears he could’ve heard what they were saying, but now he’d have to try to get it out of Sky and the fluffy bastard would probably smile and play dumb.

Nobody could tell Sky no, while Legend seemed to only manage to make them more guarded. 

When handed his portion, Hyrule still managed a grouchy, “Thanks,” before running away, because Twilight had taught them all manners. 

“Thanks for cooking, vet,” Sky said when he came up with his bowl. 

Legend scanned him from the top of his head where his hair looked duller, his face gaunt, to his boots. More than exhaustion dragged at his brother’s body, he seemed on edge and ready to collapse. Looks like the wash didn’t really help with anything to Legend’s distaste.

Sky had been cursed with the possession of Wild’s cloak just as Legend had been with the slate. He recalled how while the group were arguing about whether or not they should be spending time fighting to open the portal or if they should go on foot to the Yiga’s main base, Sky said nothing. He did nothing but clutch Wild’s cloak in his hands, staring at the hatefully small portal. 

Cleaning up Wild with Warriors was something Legend had needed to do. To care for the dead just as he did when they lived. To make sure Wild was as comfortable as he could be. He couldn’t do anything about the sickly splotches of too big bruises and the frailness of starvation, but he could wipe the blood away, dress him in comfortable, warm clothes as Warriors worked on the mats and tangles in Wild’s hair just as carefully as he would’ve if he were still alive. 

If Legend had any say, Wild would be buried with all kinds of food with the best quality clothes and armor they could dress him in. But who’s to say what they do for their dead in Wild’s era. 

After they had stepped away from Wild, Sky had laid a kiss on Wild’s forehead then covered him with that same cloak. Laid him to rest. 

Sky’s been worse since he’s done that, but it’s not like cleaning Wild up had made Legend better either.

“Yea, yea,” he muttered as he poured Sky’s share and handed it over, “you won’t be thanking me when you taste it.”

Sky just smiled at him and left to go sit. 

Time at the very least was moving again. 

Taking his armor off always made him smaller, but he still managed to seem so big anyway in other ways, sturdy, larger than life.

When he first met Time, a small, young, basically buried part of Legend had peeked its head out at the nostalgic feeling of an older, father figure, and before he could do anything about it, that small part of him was warily but hopefully calling for "uncle."

But right now, Time wasn’t larger than life. He looked older than he ever did, the lines on his face deeper and heavier.

Adults weren't supposed to look that fragile. His adult only ever looked that fragile once.

Legend would never admit it, but seeing how defeated the old man looked while he sat vigil next to Wild had terrified him. Just as the wolf that refused to move from Wild’s side was still terrifying. 

He didn’t know what they would do if they lost Time and Twilight too. What did he need to do to help them? What was he supposed to say? He didn't know, and it was driving him crazy.

A warm, large hand reached out to squeeze his shoulder, solid and comforting and there. 

“Thank you, Legend,” Time said, actually looking at him, actually seeing him. 

Emotion swelled up, catching Legend off guard, and he quickly ducked his head to hide behind his bangs, wiping his eyes and composing himself.

Time gave him one last squeeze —it felt like a promise, a promise to be present, to be constant, to do his best— before leaving with his food. 

Warriors came up last, thinking he had subtly let everyone else get their share first.

“You didn’t burn it?” Warriors said with a stupidly fake shocked expression, a stupid hand over his stupid chest. “A blessing from the goddesses themselves?”

“I hope it’s stone cold just for you,” Legend scowled, being careful not to spill this idiot’s share.

Neither of them mentioned Legend’s red eyes or watery voice. Neither of them mentioned the bags under Warriors's eyes and the paleness to his skin.

Twilight doesn’t come up for his share. 

Legend inspected the remaining gruel. There wasn’t enough for seconds, but there was just enough for three more bowls. Enough for all nine of them. 

Legend served himself, leaving two servings, then settled himself beside Hyrule. 

There was silence while they ate.

First | Previous | Next

what should i name this fic? I've titled it dead wild in my google doc but i feel like that's a bit too spot on. Let me know if you guys have any ideas!

(dare I ask? would anybody like another part?)

CW: main character death, aftermath of torture, vivid descriptions of injury

They had been too late.

And isn’t that a hero’s worst failing, almost there, almost in time, almost saving the day. What was the use if after the victory, there was nothing left to salvage?

If only they had been quicker and smarter, they would have saved the day just like they were supposed to. 

But mercilessly, they had no do-over, and they had to face what lay before them in their failure.

Their brother hung from chains that pulled his arms harshly up to the ceiling, his toes just barely skimming the floor. Blood dripped, dripped, dripped—! Time ripped himself out of the spiral, closing his eye to it.  

Wild had been taken from them. The yiga had grabbed him and dragged him into a portal. By Hyrule and Legend’s quick thinking and skillful spell casting, they had stopped the portal from closing just barely until it stayed frozen as the size of a disc, enough for maybe Wind to stick his head in. 

It took them an hour, 33 minutes, and 42 seconds to figure out how to widen the portal enough for them all to squeeze through and land in the middle of a mass of shocked yiga. Another two hours, 16 minutes and 2 seconds for them to throw themselves into maiming, incapacitating, and killing whoever tried to stop them from finding Wild. 18 minutes for Time and Warriors to find Wild too late. 

The approaching sound of footsteps as the rest of his boys arrived turned him around just in time to see Twilight enter the dungeon with Wind and Hyrule. The man’s eyes searched feverishly around the room, first looking at Time, Warriors who stood further in, and then finally they landed on the hanging body and he froze. 

Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. It was a brutal precipice they waited on. Sky, Legend, and Four arrived before anything happened, for of course all of them had to be present to witness the fall.

“Get him down…” Twilight’s voice cracked the delicate silence. Echoing around the dungeon. He stormed toward Wild. “Get him down from there! Here, help me.”

“Twilight…” Warriors said, careful with his brother’s heart, “he’s—”

“His shoulders oughta be real sore, and we hafta to stop the bleedin’. Hyrule, you need to get ready to heal ‘im.” 

Hyrule twitched to life at the mention of his name, tears already flowing down his cheeks. “R-Right.”

“I got you, cub, I got you.” Twilight had cradled an arm under Wild’s knees, his other arm hovering, preparing to catch him. “Sky, cut the chains.” 

Time heard Sky take in a breath before stepping forward to do as he was told, his face stony. The hum of the Master Sword was hatefully calming and beautiful as he unsheathed it. The chains snapped with just one perfectly executed swing and Wild dropped into Twilight’s waiting hold. A whimper escaped someone’s mouth from the way Wild’s head fell bonelessly back, from how his arm fell limply at his side. 

Twilight hastily moved his arm from around Wild’s shoulders to support his head as he lowered him to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, must’ve hurt your neck” he muttered. 

Now laying on the ground, everybody got a good look at Wild’s face which had been hidden behind his hair. His nose had gushed blood, and it looked broken. Bruises colored him a deep purple, stark against his pale skin. One of his ears had been cut off, the other burned. His eyes… blank and unseeing and stained red from the blood that had leaked down from his head.

“Okay, Hyrule, come on.” Twilight was avoiding Wild’s face. 

Hyrule numbly knelt on Wild’s other side, staring with wide, pained eyes on all the damage, the blood loss, the sunken chest that told of shattered ribs and internal bleeding, the missing fingers, the exposed bones. He reached out. His shaking hands started to glow. He placed them ever so gently over his brother’s chest, feeling it crackle under his touch. They all watched as the healing light shone for a few— hopeful despite everything —seconds only for a sob to wrack Hyrule’s body and the light flickered before going out entirely. Hyrule collapsed on top of Wild’s chest, clutching at the blood soaked tunic, letting out heart-wrenching wails. 

“What… what’s wrong?” Twilight said, his voice rising, his breaths shorter, “Why did you stop? Why isn’t he healed?”

“It’s not going to do anything, Rancher,” Legend’s caustic (devastated) tone lashed out. “Hyrule can’t bring back the dead.”

Twilight flinched. “Th-Then, a-a potion. Or a fairy…!”

Seeing Twilight’s face twist that way as he tried to hold back tears, Time automatically went to him. Twilight’s eyes snapped on to him as he approached and never left his face as he lowered himself to his knees next to him.

“Time… Time, we have to save Wild. We have to do something.”

Time wrapped his arms around his pup and pulled him close. 

“Time, please.” Twilight shuddered in his arms as he begged. “He can’t be dead. He can’t be gone. He would’ve been alone and scared when he died. We weren’t there. We were supposed to save ‘im. He would’ve been waiting for us.”

“I’m so sorry, pup.”

Around them, the others were getting closer. Legend started rubbing circles into Hyrule’s back, his face crumpled in soul deep sadness. 

Sky had lifted Wild’s head up onto his lap, gently closing the boy’s eyes before starting to card through the tangled mess of hair and dried blood. 

Warriors had an arm around Wind’s shoulders, looking smaller and exhausted and ten years older as he took in Wild’s body like it was a punishment he was dealt. 

Wind was searching around the empty cavern with tear-streaked cheeks, hiccuping. 

“He’s skin and bones. How could they have done this much in so little time?” Four muttered in a numb grief. “It couldn’t have been more than a few hours between when he was taken and when we got here.”

“A lot can be done in an hour,” Time said. A person can be alive and then gone within a second.

“We should get out of here.” Legend said from where he had managed to bring Hyrule into a hug. “He doesn’t deserve to be here any longer.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Sky shifted, he lowered Wild’s head back down delicately as if he could still feel pain. Legend guided Hyrule onto his feet and out of Sky’s way. Sky got as far as leaning forward to lift Wild up when Twilight pulled away from Time’s embrace.

“Let me. Please.”

Sky nodded and stepped back. 

Twilight gathered Wild in his arms as he’s done millions of times before. He rested Wild’s heavy head on his shoulder then placed a kiss on his forehead. “Come on, cub, let’s get out of here.”

The shackles that were still around Wild’s wrists clattered as Twilight rose to his feet. 

“We’re getting those off,” he snarled.

Let me know if you want the next part~

[letbuckfuck]

.

[leaf-in-a-flower-garden]

Getting re-obsessed over Two Embers cause it was supposed to be out by now.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

billions(tm): it's incredible how we just provide a little snippet of material designed to be "guy we all want to push down the stairs immediately somehow" and through this amazing acting alchemy it becomes gold. electric. magnificent. we can't get enough so we will just keep writing this loser character and the actor will somehow keep bringing the dazzling transmutation through his ability

actor will roland: [is aware autistic people are real]

[weirdlizard26]

grbrggbfrgbbffbrg

[samgelina-jolie]

I see a lot of ppl who talk about Steve "still being an asshole still in early s2" but i don't really get it? Like what did he do that makes him still an asshole pre-Dustin? He's barley there pre-Dustin

S2 Steve has less of the of an antagonistic love interest in the triangle who your obviously supposed to root against vibe like in s1, its more like he's the boyfriend in a Hallmark movie the lead girl is with before she moves back home, promptly forgets him and marries her childhood sweetheart in my opinion

Like yeah I guess he's a mid boyfriend (though I don't think anything to do with Steve was the main issue in Stancy's relationship) but hes not a bad guy by that point. So I don't get people who are like "I still don't like early season 2 steve but he's good by the end" when early season 2 Steve is just some guy by that point.

[dbphantom]

Hmmm lungs and throat pain. Don't like that.

[nomairuins]

aww its kinda cute finding me complaining abt my dads whole lisa thing from 2017. honestly so overshadowed by everything else and also i was so annoying when i was 12 aw .

[medicinemane]

Honestly a lot of my favorite horror ends up being games I 100% will never play and wouldn't enjoy playing, but that I managed to find someone who was able to convey enough to me to make me really care (though often leaving holes that I really want to fill but either can't sit through the whole playthough, or can't find the right playthrough, or... similar, you know?)

Dead Space, Marrow, Siren... all games I really like, games that have a lot (or uh... what's it called... Som... Sola... Signalis!)

But Dead Space I can't find the right playthrough, and Marrow I just crave something more from an imperfect game (video I watched is by doshdoshington)

Or supergreatfriend's playthrough of Siren is pretty much flawless... but... it's like 59 15-30mintue long videos, and the 60th explainer video is nearly 3 hours long on it's own... I always make it like 20 videos in before not being able to pay attention anymore

(Also like his playthrough of Deadly Premonition)

So you maybe see my problem, all these great pieces of horror I can really only engage with through these weird one off means that never quite leave me satisfied (like no way I'm beating MyHouse.WAD, I'm not even close to that good nor do I enjoy playing DOOM even if I respect it)

Love horror, just can't stand anything made in the genre because it all sucks and is boring and has stupid twists or pacing that annoys me and I hate everything about it except a few gems I can't interact with

But like I said, love horror

[philosophicallie]

my vitriolic hate for the parentals only grows btw. everything i overhear is in fact a big fat negative in our relationship

[justasadboi]

You heard it here first folks the universe have been calling me fucking stupid lately and I am finally like ya know what yeah maybe I am but I’m also dumb