#wytm

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 6/?

Some light word-building, and a try at explaining a little with reader's thinking/worldview. And of course, a soulmate :3 Next chapter in about a week(+/- a day)! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 2506

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been a week since you saw either of them. 

Your soulmates. 

You don’t like them being that, you could call them something else you suppose. But calling them their names all the time is more of a mouthful, and though you gave them nicknames before you learned their names, giving them new ones seems worse than just calling them what they are. (Even as much as you hate it.)

The ache in your shoulders and upper back has settled to a near permanent thing now, only fleeting relief for the for the briefest of moments if you massage the area. 

You know why it doesn’t fade, but you don’t want to admit that to anyone, especially not Evelyn when you visit her for a check up, this time at home in her and Olivia’s apartment.

You wonder how many other people have to bring brownies to their doctor appointments as you ring Evelyn’s and Olivia’s doorbell outside the building. To be fair, not everyone else’s doctor works as a veterinarian and has a wife that would kill you if you didn’t bring them (not really, but sometimes you think Olivia is certainly capable of doing so). 

Said wife is the one who buzzes you in, and greets you in the hallway just outside their front door with an enthusiastic yell of your name, and a hug that makes you let out a small grunt of pain that you try to hide in favor of hugging her back with the arm not currently holding onto the strap of your backpack.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re a wounded man, come in, come in, Evelyn is just setting up.” Her beautiful dark and curled hair bounces as she heads to the kitchen, and you follow her after making sure the front door is closed behind you.

The kitchen table is covered in towels, towels you know are specifically for this purpose, since none of them are the cute patterns Olivia loves. You also know that underneath there’s cling wrap covering the table, for cleanliness and just in case. It hadn’t been often you had been on this kitchen table instead of the clinic table, but the procedure Evelyn has around it isn’t unknown to you. A lot more organized than what Wade’s and Logan’s had been. 

You banish the thought of them from your mind as you put your backpack down, dipping your hand inside to fish out the box of carefully wrapped brownies out, and present them to Olivia. She gasps at you, almost yanking the box out of your hand with how fast she takes it.

“Sometimes I swear it’s like you are my second soulmate.” Your stomach swoops at her words, and you make a face. She knows and disagrees with your view on soulmates, so you know it’s a friendly jab, and normally you wouldn’t have cared, but this time it hits something you don’t like.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes at her, focusing on Evelyn instead as Olivia goes to put her treasure away. “Ready for me doc?” Seems to be the perfect time to ask that question as Evelyn puts gloves on and pats the table. 

“Up you go.” You do as asked, hoisting yourself up. You take your shirt off, balling it up, putting it under your head as you lay down, getting comfortable. “Feeling fine?” Evelyn starts to peel your bandages off, slowly and carefully.

“Yeah. They seem to be doing fine, in my non-medical opinion.” She hums, and you know she’s taking your words into consideration, but it won’t really matter much before she has had a look herself. You let your eyes stay open, watching the ceiling as you hear Olivia putter around the kitchen, and feel Evelyn poke around your wounds.

Nasty couple of things. Well, they had been. You have been surprised nothing had gotten infected, you had no idea how well Wade took care of his swords, how nasty or not they were. But well, to be fair to him, if you had gotten an infection, your makeshift bandages would have been just as likely a culprit.

“Looks like you won’t die anytime soon, but they’ll still leave some nasty scars behind.” Evelyn offers, seeming to be done with her inspection of you, as she changes gloves, and starts applying new bandages. You shrug, you figured out much. Nothing cuts that deep without leaving behind a mark.

Well, unless you are a super healing mutant. Even after you had tried multiple times. Both with a katana and a gun.

Should you even feel bad for hurting your soulmates like that when it was done when in panic but with the knowledge it would heal? And you got more permanently hurt?

And to be fair, Wade had knocked you out before you ever hurt them after realizing they were your soulmates, so it wasn’t like you hadn’t been hurt, but you shot them both. Caused them more pain.

So maybe you are all a little beyond messed up. 

Made for each other, like that soulmate shit implies.

You shake your head at that thought, dispelling it into the ether, which gets you a weird look from Evelyn as she finishes with your bandage.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping right.”

“Chest pain?” Her hands hover near your chest, but move away as you shake your head.

“No, shoulder and upper back, think I’ve accidentally pulled something.” She frowns.

“I thought I told you to not work out or put unnecessary strain on your body as you heal.” You know what it’s from, and it’s definitely not that.

“I haven’t been working out or lifting anything heavy, I promise. I’m just an old man.” You joke, she rolls your eyes at you as you sit up, taking the glass of water Olivia offers you.

“Let me know if it keeps up, and I’ll see if I can’t figure out what it is, and get you something for it.” She can’t know and won’t be able to get you anything, but still you nod.

“Am I allowed to put my shirt back on Doc, or do you just want to ogle me some more?” You joke, this earns you a slap on the shoulder by a now gloveless hand just after Olivia hands you a chocolate chip cookie. 

“Thought you were making pasta?” You get off the table and take a bite out of your cookie as Olivia smiles at you, and Evelyn starts cleaning up.

“I am, but good patients get rewards.” 

“What am I, five?” You joke, Olivia reaches out as if to take the cookie out of your hand, you take a step back. “I prefer your cookies over any stupid little toy.” Olivia’s smile is bright, and if you weren’t gay and she didn’t have a soulmate, she could have been your type. She turns around, planting a kiss on Evenlyn’s cheek as she passes her on her way to grab ingredients for the dinner she is going to make for you all.

You lean on the kitchen counter and munch on your cookie, mindful to stay in the background and out of the way for them both as they move around each other with ease. Evelyn cleaning up medical supplies and the makeshift sickbed, Olivia starting to cook dinner.

You don’t want to bring up your soulmates with either of them, since you know their stance on it all is opposite of yours, since they are themselves soulmates. You’ve had plenty of arguments about this both drunk and mostly sober. You think soulmates make one vulnerable and just bring misery in the end, they think it brings strength and that you should enjoy what good you can have in life.

So you know they would just tell you to go to your soulmates, and be with them. 

For the rest of your life. 

Ugh.

You’re fine on (mostly) your own, thanks.

—---

This time, when the universe decides it’s time for some light fuckery, it’s Logan. On his own. And it’s not while you are working. 

Not that it makes it any better.

You are taking it slow, the bar you find yourself in isn’t the fanciest thing, which suits you perfectly. The tables are mostly clean and the floor has seen better days, but they have several types of beer on tap and in bottles, a pool table, and even two shuffleboards. All in all, very casual, somewhere you could sit alone, or join a random group playing one of the games. If money sometimes exchanged hands, both between players and spectators, nobody gave a shit.

You had been a few times before, always enjoying yourself. You’re not even drinking this time, sticking to soda as much as you want to have a proper drink. You had just needed to get out of your apartment, and though you long to feel the burn of alcohol pass over them, you know it won’t heal any faster, so if you can just keep from drinking for a little longer, you can get back to the normal state of things quicker.

Well, as normal as they can get after the universe decided to change the core of your life. You were not one for company, at least not permanently.

Currently you are sitting at a table, watching two long bearded and bald men play pool, making snide comments back and forth. You had made a bet on the man with the scarred ear, but he is losing, pretty badly.

Oh well, 20 bucks isn’t the end of the world.

What kind of feels like it though, is when you spot Logan walking into the bar. He’s wearing normal clothes this time, just some jeans, boots, and a green flannel. He glances around the bar, you duck your head in the hope that he doesn’t see you.

You don’t hope for long though, as a very full glass of what looks like whiskey is sat down next to your soda, and the chair on the other side of the table becomes occupied.

“Logan.” Your uttering of his name in greeting is icy, your name falling from his lips are decidedly less so.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling your shoulders ease up. Which annoys you so much, he’s just arrived, and he’s already making you feel better. You want to go, to leave, even as your loosening muscles reminds you that staying for a little bit will stave off side effects of your unfortunately shared bond. 

“Drinking.” He grunts, taking a sip of his glass. You roll your eyes and look at him for a few moments, head swirling with thoughts. You settle on one, just to have something to say as you stall and try to figure out how much time you need to feel more than just a little less shitty, though you can’t help but be actually curious as you ask.

“Can you even get drunk with your healing shit?” Logan frowns, and you wonder if that’s his default. You don’t ask about that though.

“With some effort.”

“Why the fuck even be in a bar then?” Your tone is still not kind, even as you  feel your shoulders ache just a little bit less, like you had just massaged over a good spot. He shrugs.

“Company I guess.” It’s your turn to frown.

“I have no interest in being company. Get away from me Logan, or I will make you go away.” You know you should stay close longer so you can also stay away longer, but you are still stubborn, not wanting the fuckery that is soulmates. 

At least if you just stay in the same room, it should help, you think. 

You hope. No need to stay close in the slightest. 

He takes you in, quickly glancing at you from top to toe.

“I -“ You don’t let him speak.

“What did I just say Logan?” He scowls at you, you glare back at him, but let him speak when he opens his mouth this time.

“I don’t like it.” Logan reluctantly admits as the scowl stays on his face. “This being the way we are going about things.” He clarifies.

“Though shit.” He tilts his head at you, scowl turning into more of a squint.

“Are you always this combative?” You feel like a street dog on high alert, barking in warning. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Look-” And when barks don’t work……

“You had your warning.” You say as you grab your knife from your left leg. You stab it into his hand, aiming for the skin between where the claws go through his hand, hitting the jackpot as red seeps around the knife and the tip of it burrows into the table. Seconds later there is warm and sharp metal pushing your chin up. You grin and waggle a finger at him.

“Nah ah, mortal, remember?” You twist the knife around once for good measure, making him grunt in pain, and then pull it out of his hand. You already know you are banned from this bar for life, but you don’t care. His claws retract, this time you realize it actually makes a sound. Huh.

“So you are always this combative.” Logan grits out between his clenched teeth, as his hand heals itself, leaving behind nothing but the blood that spilled out where you stabbed him.

“Fellas, time to go.” A bouncer suddenly stands in front of your table now, a t-shirt with security over his chest in big white letters. He’s huge, towering over both you and Logan, arms ready at his sides, eyes flicking between the two of you. You see Logan seize him up, and for a moment you wonder if he is going to fight the man, but his eyes go to you as you get off your chair.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You put your knife away. “Again, fuck off Logan.” You show him the finger as you walk out. He’s just steps behind you, clearly no longer welcome in the bar either, but he keeps his distance as you both go out of the door. 

You have no idea where he's going, and you have no plans now, so you start walking in the direction of home.

After gaining some distance, you look over your shoulder. You don’t want to be followed. Logan is standing just outside of the bar, looking at your retreating back, but he takes a step forward as your eyes connect with his. You show him the finger again as you disappear around a corner.

You rub your forehead as you are out of sight, annoyance cursing through you. You think some of it might be his.

Fuck, you wish you could get drunk right now. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be good for your healing. And you have no idea how bad or good your control over your bonds are when you’re drunk.

Just another thing for future you to figure out, you guess.

[xeresmalfoy]

Thank you for your quick response!

I’m so excited we will have a Christmas one shot and another long story! I’m currently reading The Clover and the Tartan, which so far is a nice breath of fresh air after the delicious tension of Will You Teach Me!

I hope one day we get to see you write daddy Stephen with a little girl. I always found it so unfair in the show/books that Jaime never got to raise the children he so desperately loved, and then you hit me with a, “He would have loved to know them, to watch them grow up…” in the epilogue of WYTM 😭

Stephen harmed so many in canon, and even in WYTM, and suddenly finding himself the father of a tiny, innocent baby girl in world unkind to women…oof!

Whether it ever happens or not, thank you for at least entertaining the idea! I look forward to your next projects, and I’ll finish up The Clover and the Tartan in the meantime! I’m sure I’ll pop in again when I’m finished reading that, and of course your other smaller Stephen/Brianna fics. Take care, Merry Christmas!

I know right?? Tbh it broke my heart to write the ending because I would have loved to see Stephen as a baby girl daddy for the exact same reasons but the ending is the first thing that I thought about and what actually made me create the entire fic so I couldn't change it 🥲

But don't worry, the ending of The Clover will be much better for him🥰🥰🥰

[ballplayersxo]

good evening ppldem

wytm gang

[postsofbabel]

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[holdontorogers]

Will You Teach Me part 2 and ransom drysdale x reader oneshot coming this weekend 🤪🤪🤪

[zpomnicore]

my noise my core my way

[teresagowings]

ZURVITA Z BLENDS HEMP OIL – HEAR ZURVITA LEADERS TALK ABOUT HEMP OIL

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This video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYtm-e8EV68, can also be seen at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-G2n_oNUJ7GmUuMmn7btPPOJUXwYTvNj.

[zurvitavideos]

ZURVITA Z BLENDS HEMP OIL - HEAR ZURVITA LEADERS TALK ABOUT HEMP OIL - https://youtu.be/wYtm-e8EV68

[cousin76]

WYTM (em Figueira da Foz)

[elpuntero]

pChihuahua, Chih.- La presidenta municipal María Eugenia Campos Galván comentó que hasta el momento no se tiene la cancelación

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[ballplayersxo]

How u been my fellow Ghanaian sister!

wytm boooo & i’ve been good! hbu?

[holdontorogers]

Will you teach me? s.r.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; Steve Rogers x agent!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; you’ve known him ever since SHIELD found him, frozen in time. You helped him understand the 21st century and now Steve wants your help with another department, one that might change your friendship for good.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI, friends with benefits, unrequited loved, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral sex, angst, fluff, reader acts like she doesn’t have feelings, steve is shy, soft (and perfect), and is learning a lot of new things, mentions of TV show Friends. each chapter will contain their own warnings as series progress, not beta’d — sorry for any typos!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 9,424

𝐚/𝐧; ugh I’m so excited for this one. I try to make the reader as vague and inclusive as possible! Please let me know if any warnings or descriptions are misplaced or missing! Talk to me, I’m always willing to improve! Tried not to get a lot of inspirations from music but duh it’s me and I do not know how to live without songs surrounding my every move <33.

NO TAGLIST!!!! follow my library and turn notif on! @holdontorogers-library

ONCE AGAIN, THIS IS 18+ CONTENT ONLY! minors will be blocked!

CHAPTERS

Friends Don’t

Breakable Heaven

Unexpected Guest x Un(expected) Feelings

What are the Benefits again?

Only Thought of You

But Maybe We Do

Not Such a Bad Idea

Play Video Games

SERIES PLAYLIST

WYTM UNIVERSE

७ a series of blurbs/headcanons situated in the series universe.

— ღ you surprise Steve with a new lingerie; request - blurb

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 2/?

This story is constantly on my mind these days. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2555

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

After running after Red and failing to catch up, you make some improvised bandages out of some dead guy’s shirt, which you do apologize to him for, it was a nice shirt, not that he can answer you. Maybe there was a med-kit somewhere, but you do not want to start wandering aimlessly around a big warehouse. The cuts on your arms, leg, and face are shallow, but the ones on your stomach and chest will need stitches. 

You steal more clothes from some more dead guys, your pants being the only kind of salvageable garment, but it looks better to have pants that don't have a hole in them with three bleeding cuts underneath. You bundle up your ruined clothes, and take them out with you, not a great idea to leave more of yourself behind. There is of course some of your blood on the floor, but you are sure it’s all mixed up with everyone else's, so that won’t matter.

Though all the cars tires are slashed, you are lucky that your ‘boss’ and his rival had a certain ‘style’ they followed, so all of the cars are the same, or similar enough that they use the same wheels. So after a lot of swearing and sweating and bleeding, you can drive one car out, all spare tires. It’s not the best thing, since the movement of switching out the tires pulls at your wounds, but the only other option would have been to walk to a main road and then hitchhike, which would have been a disaster. The fabric making up your bandages has to be switched out after you are done, and you try to pretend it doesn’t worry you about how much blood you’ve lost, and how you are feeling a little woozy as you sit yourself down into the driver's seat.

Also on top of it all you have a headache building, filled with anger, frustration, panic, sadness, and confusion. You are sure the anger is yours, not too sure about everything else though, as your soulmate’s feelings have been mixing in with yours. Sometimes they seem separate, other times they mix so thoroughly that it’s just a mess. You rub your forehead, willing it all away. 

It doesn’t work, at all, not that you really thought it would, but a guy can dream.

For now though, you have other things to concentrate on. Such as calling your vet friend Evelyn so you can come to her clinic, and she can stitch you up so you won’t bleed out before seeing your soulmate Red again. 

This whole soulmate thing is something you’ve never wanted, but you want to at least talk to him, and agree that the bond is strictly going to be platonic, or rather the closest thing to actual non-existence. Something that you both can learn to ignore and mentally suppress, leaving each other alone until whoever shuffles off this mortal coil firsts severs the connection. 

You swear to yourself, hitting the steering wheel a few times, before picking up your phone and dialing Evelyn.

—-------

Ditching your ride is easy enough, you park it a few blocks away from your Evelyn's clinic, and leave the doors unlocked. It will be gone by morning. 

Your feet don't feel the steadiest, but if anyone were to look at you, you would just look like another drunk stumbling home from the bar. Seeing the lit sign with the little smiling dog that marks the right place, you slink into the alleyway next to the building. Your fist on the metal door on the side of the building is heavy. Lucky for you, you don’t have to wait long until Evelyn opens it. She’s frowning, but waves you in none the less, waiting to comment until she locks the door behind you.

“Thought you said at my birthday party you were going to slow down with these kinds of visits.”

“Yeah, but you know, unexpected things happen.” You follow her down the hallway, a familiar route as she leads you into a room where they normally operate on pets, and certainly not humans (other than you).

“At least you are alive. How’s the other guy?” She pats the metal table, before starting to find equipment, some meant for animals, other stuff stashed away from earlier visits. 

“I killed him.” You say as you move to sit at the table. You conveniently leave out the part where he got back up and the whole mess that followed, but at least what you say is true.

“What am I working with?” Evelyn has her back turned to you as she asks, but turns around to look at you, observing your clothes that are this time in one piece.

“Chest and stomach, one cut to each, about 8-10 inches, deep.” She winces as you pull your shirt off, revealing the blood-soaked makeshift bandages. “Some others, but they just need a clean-up and something to cover them later.” The bandages come off, you bite your lip not to hiss in pain, not that it really matters as Evelyn has heard and seen a lot.

“Nasty. Lay back.” You drop your shirt and the bloody rags that can hardly be called bandages on the end of the table, knowing she will complain about having to clean the floor if you dropped them there. 

“Ay ay, mam’.” You swing your legs up on the table and lay down, Evelyn just rolls her eyes at you.

“Don’t call me that, I’m not my mother.”

“Ay ay, sir, then?” You joke, but clench your jaw as she pokes at the edge of your chest wound.

“Good thing the money is good and my wife loves your brownies, or else I might kick you out for that.”

“Tell your wife I’m flattered, but I am very gay.” And have a soulmate, but you leave out that part.

“And so are we.” She grabs a leash from a drawer, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite down, chipping a tooth will not charm anyone.” You take it, teeth closing around the fabric as Evelyn starts on the wound on your stomach.

You are going to fucking kill Red again.

Soulmate bond be damned.

—----

After Evelyn patches you up, she orders you home to rest, which to be fair, you do. 

For a day.

While looking up a little more about soulmates on your phone.

It’s not like you know nothing, but not wanting one had led you to tune out when people were talking about it, so you know little outside the basics of touch triggering it. It hadn’t seemed useful at the time, because why in the fuck would you need to know about something that was never going to happen to you? Now that you are in it though, you skim through articles about it, because even though you need to know at least a little more, you don’t need to know too many details.

Though some are useful to know. Like the fact that if soulmates are kept away from each other for too long, it will give negative side effects, both physical and mental. The mental you had kinda guessed, but the physical was new.

Headaches, irritable mood, nausea, and aching joints. 

Not fun.

Jesus fucking christ. 

At least your brief reading makes it seem like it doesn’t take that much to keep it in check, just some touches here and there, and time spent together. You grimace, it could have been worse you suppose, but if you have to shake Red’s hand a few times a year, and stay in a room with him for a few hours to keep your life somewhat normal otherwise, you suppose you can manage.

As much as you don’t want to.

Even as much as all you want is to forget it ever happened and leave the man alone.

If you hadn’t touched him back, he wouldn’t have even known, but you suspect if you hadn’t touched him, he would have killed you then.

Like you had him.

But in your defense, you hadn’t known, and he got back up.

So maybe you are just a little messed up, and not a lot.

After reading some more, you find out that lucky for you, soulmates can use their bond, when it’s established, to pull themselves towards their soulmate. Though the article mentioned it’s something most people only do after their bond has been strengthened and developed over time. 

You ignore that last part.

At least the article helps you visualize in your head how your feelings look like in your head. Yours are a river of color, his feelings are a tributary river that flows into yours, with another river of your feelings flowing out towards the ether, or rather, him.

Closing your eyes, you concentrate on your bond to him, the river of feelings going towards him, and those being sent to you. The weak, but pretty constant stream of feelings coming from the other man now in your mind. 

It’s hard to concentrate on, any time you open your eyes it slips into something intangible again, something that is just there, not something that leads you anywhere. So, like a fool, every so often you close your eyes while you still walk, letting your feelings guide your feet. You are certain you look stupid, walking with eyes closed and arms in front of you to make sure you don’t walk into anyone or anything.

It’s not like you keep your eyes closed for long, but it still makes you feel vulnerable.

The pull eventually leads you to an apartment building in a pretty average looking part of the city. You stand on the other side of the street for a while, to gauge how easy it will be to get in.

You can tell Red is inside the building, not moving, so you assume he’s in his apartment. You focus on his emotions, nothing sparks out, just a baseline with some spikes of happiness mixed in.

In the end, you conclude the easiest thing to do is to just wait until someone careless leaves the building, and slip in before the door can close behind them.

You lean on a wall near the front door, pretending to be engrossed in your phone as you wait.

It only takes 10 minutes for you to get your opportunity, slipping in silently and unnoticed. You take the stairs, here and there taking two steps at once, following the pull as well as you can with your eyes still open, until you find yourself in front of an apartment door where you can feel Red behind it. 

Your soulmate.

You wonder what his name actually is.

You force yourself to knock, instead of just trying to open the door, just breaking in.

There’s shuffling of feet, and to your surprise, a black woman with a white afro and sunglasses opens the door.

“What the fuck do you want?” 

“Where’s Red?”

“Who?”

“Red suit, guns and katanas, black around the eyes, a mask that is surprisingly animated?” You feel yourself getting irritated by the silence that description is met with. You wonder how much of it your soulmate is picking up. His emotions are shifting, flowing into what feels like nervousness.

You hear what sounds an awful lot like a squeak and, finally, his voice again.

“Al, close the fucking door.” 

“What the fuck have you done now?”

“Al, please!” You try to look past Al, seconds later the door is thrown shut in your face, the noise of the lock turning quickly following.

Okay, so fuck being polite. 

One deep breath, and then you’re raising one leg up, and kicking the fucking door in. There’s a yelp from someone as the door swings open fast and bounces off the wall behind it. You get into the apartment in a few quick strides, ignoring Al that is cursing at you, something about getting ‘the damn bat’.

“Okay, that was unfairly hot.” You spot him a second after the words leave his mouth. 

At least you’re fairly sure it’s him. He’s not wearing a red suit, instead he’s dressed in grey sweatpants, fuzzy pink slippers, and a red hoodie, but you recognize the bumpy skin that covers his face and hands. Which you can barely see because he is hiding behind another man where they stand in front of a dining room table. Red’s hands are on the shoulders of the man clad in flannel with rolled up sleeves and jeans that is scowling at you; his stance tense with his arms at his side.

You ignore Flannel in favor of looking at your soulmate, meeting his eyes over the shoulder of the other man.

“You are a fucking asshole Red.”

“Well done assessment there, Stab.”

“Stab?”

“Well you did almost stab me through the head before giving me your name, which, count yourself lucky cause I usually don’t put out if I don’t know what name to scream.”

“Wade, what-” Flannel starts, but you cut him off.

 “Oh, so that’s your name.” You offer up your own name. “Which you would have learned if you hadn’t run away like a fucking pussy.” Wade gasps.

“Excuse you, pussies are fucking strong as shit, they can-”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up.” Flannel barks out, shifting both of your attentions to him. “What the fuck is this?” He shakes Wade’s hands off his shoulders, taking a few steps so he’s more in the middle of the two of you. Which is not much space really, the apartment is not big, but at least it gets a little bit less full as Al leaves out the broken door, purse under her arm and muttering something you can’t hear or care to.

“Wade and I need to fucking talk. About how he is a fucking coward for fucking running.”

“I am not, just made a tactical retreat from an enemy!” Wade protests.

“We are a little past that, soulmate.” You drip venom in the last word, Flannel goes stock still as Wade draws in a sharp breath. Panic is sent through your link, which for some reason makes you angry.

“Just fucking come here.” You start to stride over towards Wade, who is frozen now. 

You don’t get past Flannel though, as he grabs you, spinning you quickly as he pins you against the dining room wall with a hand on your shoulder, metal glinting from between his knuckles as it extends and pushes against your throat, not breaking skin, but threatening to do so. 

On instinct you grab at his bare forearm, trying to pull the knives or whatever the fuck those are away from your throat, but now it’s your turn to freeze, as for the second time in as many days, you feel the sizzle in your mind of a new link forming.

What.

In.

The.

FUCK.

You look up at Flannel, startled and with your mouth hanging open. He’s frowning, tilts his head and then, slowly, his hand shifts from your shoulder to touch your neck, the closest piece of bare skin.

His eyes dilate, then he licks his lips, and you know he just felt the same thing as you did.

“What the fuck.” All three of you say in unison.

(Part 3)

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 3/?

I love writing this so much, it's not going to be a quick thing for sure. I'm thinking and plotting constantly. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn, stiches

Wordcount: 2675

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Silence fills the apartment.

For a few moments.

“Red, I am going to kill you.”

“Wade, I am going to stab you.” Both of you talk at the same time, then glare at the other. You notice that his eyes are a nice shade of hazel, before your gaze snaps to Wade as he speaks.

“Why am I getting the heat for this?!” 

“You ran.” You and Flannel say in unison, glaring at each other again. His hand is still on your neck, warm and solid.

He raises an eyebrow as you reach for your pants, you grab one of your knives out of its hidden sheath, stabbing his shoulder. He grunts with pain, hand clutching at your neck for a moment before pulling it away. You pull your knife back out, before putting it parallel between two of Flannel’s claws, twisting it hard as you can, somewhat pushing his claws further apart. He winches, and the claws retract, allowing you to quickly slide away, and then take a few steps back. You notice there is no trace of where they came from on his knuckles, so this guy must have some sort of healing factor too. 

Fucking great.

“Why are you armed if you came here to meet your soulmate?” He scowls at you.

“Like you can talk, Mr Knuckle Claws.” He growls, fucking growls, and you would mock the absurdity of it, but his claws are coming back out. 

You grab your second knife, spinning them once in your hand, steeling yourself. Flannel lurches forward, one set claws aimed for your throat. You deflect them, your arm almost vibrates with the effort it takes to stop the swinging momentum, but you don’t have time to reflect on it, his other set of claws coming for your left arm. You stop these too, but you don’t have to stop a third or fourth swipe, as Wade drags Flannel backwards by the shoulders, making the man stumble and almost fall.

“Nu uh! No murdering of our soulmate peanut, they don’t have a healing factor!” Flannel huffs, glaring at you again, but his claws retract. 

You want to stab him. 

You are pretty sure the feeling is mutual. 

Irritation coming across the bond, if somewhat muted. You also want to stab Wade, because fuck him, you could fight Mr Scowl on your own merit. You don’t sheat your knives yet, staring at them both, hand clenched tight around the handles. Flannel scowls at you.

“Gonna put those away bub?”

“Trying to figure out if I can get to both of your hearts from here.” Flannel snorts.

“For me it takes at least some candles and a nice dinner with gifts, then it’s all yours.” Wade winks at you, you feel your eye twitch in irritation.

Flannel sniffs the air suddenly, nose wrinkling.

“Why do I smell blood?”

“What?” You look down at your chest, suddenly realizing there are wet spots forming on your dark shirt. “Shit.”  You pull the collar away from your skin, looking down and seeing blood trickle slowly from the gauze on your chest.

“Great, popped a fucking stitch. Thank you asshole. Now Evelyn is gonna tear me a new one.”

“Aw pookie, cheating on as already? Tell me, what is she, a nurse that found you on her doorstep and took care of you, and now you make sweet, sweet love like in so many fanfictions?”

“Don’t call me that, and no, you fucking moron, she’s a veterinarian, a friend, and we are both gay in the wrong direction for whatever the fuck kind of fantasy you have in that scarred brain of yours.” You put your knives back in their sheats hidden under your pants, ignoring how two sets of eyes follow the motion.

“I hope you guys got a first aid kit around here somewhere. I assume that the old lady and whoever else you guys have over aren’t all super healers.” Wade and Flannel look at each other.

“I’ll see if I can find anything between Al’s coke in the bedroom.” Wade walks off, leaving you and Flannel alone in the room. It’s not long, maybe a minute, but it lets you feel the confusion coming through your bond from him, and a swirl of other emotions that are hard to identify through the still very fresh bond.

You wonder what he feels from you, as neither of you say anything, just watching the other. A shot of guilt comes through your bond, which makes you scowl at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“What?”

“Pretend like you care.”

“You’re our s-”

“Say it and will stab you. I know you probably can’t die, but I will give my best damn try.” He scowls, again, but doesn’t say anything. Wade comes back then, a little red and solid bag with a white plus sign on in one hand. You reach out to take it, but Wade pulls it out of reach for you.

“Give me the damn med kit Wade.”

“Nah ah, better for me to do it, promise I’ll be gentle, done it before.” 

“No, Wade.” He sighs, a second later there’s a gun aimed at you. Where the fuck that even came from, you don’t know. You wouldn’t be surprised if Wade was armed before you even came here though.

“You just stopped Flannel from attacking me, now you are aiming a gun at me?” You tilt your head, and Wade shrugs. Flannel seems frozen, eyes flicking between the two of you, arms tense at his side again.

“His name is Logan, and he would not have made it non-lethal, but I will.” He’s serious, you can tell by the flat tone in his voice, the most level and even it has ever been in the times you have heard him speak. You look into his eyes, a lovely shade of brown that is filled with stony seriousness.

Getting shot would fucking suck.

It would hurt.

It would take forever to heal.

It would make you weak for a good while.

You sigh, rubbing your face, opting for the lesser of two evils. 

You think.

You’re tired.

“Fine.” The gun is moved away, safety clicked on, and tucked into the waistband of Wade’s pants. He takes a few steps away from you, picking up takeaway boxes (that you hadn’t noticed, but to be fair all your attention had been on the other two men) off the dining room table, handing them off to Logan, who takes them to the kitchen. Wade pats the table.

“Up you go pumpkin.” You roll your eyes, too tired and annoyed at your bleeding wounds to tell him to not call you that. You don’t think he will stop. You sit on the table, taking your jacket and shirt off, dumping them on the floor before laying back. Wade whistles, dropping the med kit next to your shoulder as you glare at him.

“Nasty.” 

“Your fucking handiwork.” You tilt your head to look at Logan where he leans in the doorway to the kitchen. “And yours, since I’m bleeding again.” He grimaces, opening his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. A hand brushes against the gauze covering your stomach wound.

“Gonna take this off now.” Wade’s voice is soft, you give him a weird look, but he’s not looking at you, but instead he’s looking at his hand where it lays gently on top of the gauze.

“Yeah, yeah, just get it over with.”

“Hey, consent is sexy.”

“This isn’t-” You stop yourself, grimacing at the feeling of gauze lifting off your blood soaked skin. The wound drips more freely now, blood trickling down onto the table. A blue towel appears next to Wade, Logan is quiet on his feet, you hadn’t even noticed he went anywhere. Wade takes the towel, cleaning up the blood as best he can. The towel is soft against your skin, you watch him for a few seconds before moving your focus to the ceiling. 

Wade leaves the towel on your stomach, gently prodding at the wound. You grimace, the feeling unpleasant.

“This isn’t too bad, you only need two new stitches, pookie.”

“Get on with it then.” You hear the flicker of a lighter, glancing down to see Wade hovering a needle in and out of the flame. You know it’s not going to be as well done as Evelyn’s, but you don’t want to go back there and get an earful. 

Or more likely, yelled at until your whole body feels like it is on fire.

Eyes back to the ceiling, you take a deep breath as you feel Wade’s fingers press just beneath the wound. Then there’s some sort of black cloth, a small towel you are guessing, hovering over your face. You tilt your head to look at Logan, who offers it up with a little shake and a raised brow. You nod, opening your mouth, letting him drop it so you can bite down on it just as the needle pierces your skin.

It’s not a pleasant sensation, so you bite down on the towel, forcing yourself to take measured and deep breaths as you stare at the ceiling, concentrating on a little damp spot you can see in one corner.

What a charming space.

“You know, next time you are shirtless, I hope you are going to be bleeding less.” Wade puts the needle aside, wiping his hand on the towel on your stomach. Next he digs around in the medkit again, taking out supplies to cover his (and Evelyn’s) handiwork. You ignore his comment, closing your eyes and just breathing.

You stay like that as he finishes up, and moves onto your chest wound. Once again, the blood soaked material doesn’t feel great coming off, and neither does Wade’s prodding fingers.

“Two again. Beginning to think that’s your lucky number sweetcheeks.” You groan, moving your arm to smack him, hitting a solid thigh. Wade laughs, and it’s such a bizarre situation, you can feel it through your bond, so it takes actual effort to not smile under the towel in your mouth. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it.” He keeps babbling some more, you tune him out, letting him be background noise as you breathe deeply through your nose as the needle pierces skin again. You flex your fingers and grind your teeth on the towel, willing yourself to stay still to not fuck up Wade’s stitches.

“There we go, all done! Well, almost, I still need to cover my beautiful handiwork, which is a damn shame.” You are not sure if he’s talking about the wound or the stitches, but you don’t care. As he covers it in gauze once more, you take the towel out of your mouth, licking your lips. The towel had soaked up a good deal of moisture from your mouth, so it takes more than a few moments for your mouth to feel normal again. By the time that happens, Wade is done, leaning away from you, gathering up trash, wet towels, and the needle. He takes it away, leaving you and Logan alone again. You sit up on the table, noticing Logan has your shirt in his hand. You reach for it, but he pulls it out of reach from you. Confused, you scrunch your eyebrows. He scrunches up the shirt, one hand in each arms hole, holding the opening for your torso towards you.

“You gotta be kidding me. I’m not that fucking fragile. Let me put my own damn shirt on.” Logan just arches an impressive brow, and you sigh, not willing to fucking wrestle him for your shirt back. Tearing up your stitches again would just be counterintuitive, and you are tired. So you sigh, again, reaching both arms forward.

You let Logan put the shirt on you, you grimace as the mostly dried blood is still present, even if it’s not very visible. The action is weirdly intimate as he stays close afterwards. You let his eyes wander over your face and chest for a few seconds, before you push him away with a boot to his stomach. You could, and you almost do, go for the crotch instead, but you are not certain he wouldn’t actually stab you with his claws if you kicked him in the dick, since Wade isn’t in the room.

“Enough.” Your voice is low, your feelings are a mess, but most of all you are tired. You can’t really make out Logan’s or Wade’s either, it’s all just a jumble in your head now. Christ, you thought having one person sort of in your head was bad, this is just so much messier. Logan hands you your jacket, this one you are allowed (fucking silly as that sounds) to put on by youself. You do it slowly, staring down on the floor, and resolutely not on Logan, or his boots. 

Which is why it’s a short way for your gaze to move as you hear the patter of small paws and claws on the floor, quickly followed by Wade’s pink slippers.

The creature sets itself down at your feet, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. It has mostly grey-brown skin, covered with white tufts of what you think is supposed to be fur. Its eyes are big as it looks up at you, barking once, tongue hanging out of its mouth.

“What the fuck is that thing.” Wade steps forward, bending down to scoop it up.

“That is Dogpool, or Mary Puppins. Say hi!” Wade holds her up to your face, you recoil as much as you can while still seated, as that long tongue tries to lick you.

“Aww, she likes you.” You grimace.

“She’s hideous.” Wade gasps, pressing her close to his chest, pressing a hand over one ear like she can understand you.

“So rude! She’s perfect.” Logan snorts. “Oh shut up you. She takes after her beautiful papa.” You glance down at the cre-, no dog apparently, as you get off the table.

“The dog is uglier.”

“Aw, such a charmer!” You start to walk towards the door, or doorway rather, but are stopped by a hand on your wrist. You look down, and then up at Logan who scowls at you.

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

“Away from here."

“We need to-” 

“We don’t need to do anything. I don’t even know why I came here, I don’t want any of it. Soulmates are messed up, a thing that I don’t care about, a fucking cruel joke of a perverse fucking universe. I’ve seen way too many people get messed up by it all, and I will not be one of them.” You wrench your wrist free, bristling with the concern you can now feel push through everything else in the bond from them both. You send pure anger back, they both frown at you.

“Just read up on how to suppress the bond, learn the fucking mental gymnastics of keeping it and yourselves quiet, and if I start getting a migraine or achy joints, I know where to find you fuckers.”

“We don’t know where to find you. What will we do if we start feeling achy for your love and attention?” You are sure if Wade had eyelashes, they would be fluttering as he blinks rapidly at you, Mary Puppins still in his arms. It’s not quite as confident or flirty as before, he’s trying to hide how disappointed he is at your words, even as you can feel it through your bond.

“Suffer.” This time, none of them tries to stop you as you leave, grumbling to yourself under your breath. 

“Oh, I love how cruel you are pookie, so nasty!” You ignore the nonsense Wade yells after you as you take the stairs, ready to get away from this fucking mess. 

You have two fucking soulmates.

You want to scream, but there’s other people around when you get to the street, but in your mind it’s far from quiet.

FUCK.

(Part 4)

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 5/?

Reader has a bike now ^_^ Also thought it was time to change up the gif, since it's both of them now ;3 Next chapter in a week! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 1373

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been another week since your last run-in with Wade, two weeks since you met them both. An ache has settled in your upper back, flowing through the muscles any time you bend over just the smallest amount. It feels like soreness after a hard workout, but you have done no such thing, doctor’s (Evelyn) orders.

You have taken another job though, you can’t just sit around and wait for your cuts to fully heal (luckily they are healing well), you would become too restless. You need to do something.

Which leads you to where you are now.

The warehouse has three levels with a big opening in the middle to hoist up crates and goods. You were there to keep watch over a shipment of guns on the upper floor, when they had stormed in on the first floor. Wade had been yelling, what you don’t know, but the gunshots following his words leaves you no doubt that it wasn’t nice. 

Because of fucking course they are a package deal even with this. Not that Logan’s claws had given you the impression that he was a demure housewife, but still. You hadn’t expected the yellow and blue suit, complete with a scowl with pointy ends on top that covers the upper half of his face. You don’t recognise him at first, but then there’s claws, and Wade jumping around in his Deadpool suit, so it’s not hard to tell it’s Logan under the yellow. 

Red and yellow. 

Like ketchup and mustard. 

You snort to yourself. 

Being able to recognise Wade’s voice even without words already should irk you, but this time it leaves you with an advantage, as you can stay back, and don’t rush into something unknown, or a situation you know you won't win.

You still haven’t made yourself known to them, preferring to watch as they utterly fuck up your job. You have to admit, they are effective as a team. Knowing when to split up, and when to draw back together. It’s not perfect, both of them absorb several gunshots, but thanks to their apparent unending healing factor they just keep going. 

They end up in the middle of the first floor, with people coming at them in a seemingly never ending attack. You lean on the railing around the hole on the third floor, gun in hand, just watching. Logan slices through people with ease, claws glinting in the light even when they are soaked with blood. Wade switches between his guns and katanas, seeking out targets with precision. Their fighting styles are very different, but their legs are hard at work. Logan moves around in bursts, occasionally running on all fours, sometimes kicking when he’s in range of people so they stumble and he can easily skewer them with his claws. Wade bounces around, kicking with purpose, breaking bones, and necks when he hits perfectly. Once even strangling someone with his thighs.

Your bond hums with excitement when you pay attention to it, because of course they are having fun with this.

As much as you are enjoying the show, you are honestly just starting to think about slinking away before they notice you, but then there’s suddenly another henchman rushing in next to you, firing down as he yells at you.

“Why the fuck aren’t you doing anything?!” He hits Logan’s shoulder as he yells. This gets Logan’s attention, making him look all the way up to you. He spots the man next to you first, as he is still firing, but he now starts missing Logan as he starts moving towards a column in the corner of the opening. He spots you next, and it’s only because you’ve been watching him move without hesitation for several minutes that you see the minute stutter in his step.

Next thing you know, his claws are digging into concrete, and he’s fucking climbing the fucking column. 

“You fucking idiot.” You hiss at the man next to you as you both draw back. He reloads his gun, you turn around to look for an exit.

You spot the red exit sign and door just as you hear a thud behind you. You move towards the door. There’s a scream behind you, another thud, before the warehouse falls mostly silent except from a scuffle somewhere below you. 

Then Logan calls your name. 

You freeze, fingers tightening around your gun. You could use it, but all you’ll likely get in return for your effort is a gun sliced in half (you had already seen Logan do that to others), and a pissed off Logan.

So you keep it down as you turn around, gaze as neutral as you can keep it as you look at him, absentmindedly noticing it’s mostly quiet around you now. You realize his mask has white eyes in the black, similar to Wade’s, but a little smaller. His claws retract, slowly disappearing into his hands as you watch them.

“Logan.” Your voice offers no warmth. “Fancy outfit.” He licks his lips, shifting on his feet, seemingly not knowing what to say to you now that he has your attention, not that he gets much time to speak, as you hear Wade yell for him.

“Where are you hiding peanut?”

“Third floor!” Then there’s footsteps on the stairs, and Wade appears, red suit and all. He spots you and Logan standing several feet apart, both tense, and starts, what you can honest to god only describe as skipping, over to Logan.

“We have to stop meeting like this pookie.” He slings an arm around Logan, winking at you. “Would ruin our reputation, fraternizing with the enemy.” He glances to the side, noticing the body laying there. “Thank you convenient anonymous henchman.” You tilt your head at them, squinting at Wade as anger simmers through you, muting anything that might be sent through their bonds to you.

“Don’t fucking call me that, and we are not doing anything.”

“You sure? The tension was thicker than Al’s oatmeal when I got here.”

“I was thinking of where to shoot Logan so I could run, and not get stopped.” A little white lie, because you weren’t then, but you are now. And Wade too of course. Logan scowls, you see his fists clenched tight, making you wonder how close his claws are to coming out again.

“Like I said, tension! Also, since you insist on keeping it professional at work, it’s Wolverine when we’re working.” You blink. Huh. You raise a brow.

“A weasel?” 

“A mustelid actually! Weasels are part of it, but so are badgers an-”

“Shut the fuck up Wade.” Logan, or Wolverine apparently, growls out as he looks between the two of you. He still looks unsure of what to actually say or do, but you’ll make that decision for him. For both of them.

“I’m just gonna keep doing what I was doing, and leave.” Before they can say anything or protest, you raise your gun, shooting off two quick shots. The first hits Wolverine’s knee, shattering his kneecap, the other does the same to Deadpool.

“Motherfucker!” They both lose their balance at the unexpected hits, Logan grunts in pain and Wade swears loudly as they crumple to the floor.

You turn around and sprint for the exit, finding yourself on a roof with a fire escape, which you run over to and quickly climb down. Your breath is in your throat, you hear Wade yell your name just as your boots hit the ground. You look up, both of them are looking over the edge of the building. You look away, running over to where you parked your black Yamaha R7 when you arrived earlier. You almost forgo the helmet to make it out of there quicker, but remind yourself through the urge to get away that that would suck with the wind and insects, so you put it on. The bike purrs to life, drowning out another call of your name. 

This time it's your turn to burn out of there as your soulmates watch your tail light disappear into the night.

Your shoulders ache as you lean forward, trying to make yourself as aerodynamic as possible as you rush away from your soulmates. 

(Part 6)