💜Purperel💜

Lol

[ask-poolverine]

HAPPY POOLVERINE PRIDE MONTH!!!

WAVE YOUR FLAGS YOU BEAUTIFUL MEN!!!

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

HAPPY PRIDE!!!

From me to you I wish you all a safe and grand pride, let those flags fly high!

[ask-poolverine]

Logan: Think they all know I wouldn’t let him get away with so much if we weren’t

[nuggetpool-hi]

Artblock's kicking my ass but oh well

Somebody likes somebody else's mug eh eh

[purperel-men]

Okay does anyone have like a thing between them and their pillows??

Cause why the fuck am I treating it like a person??

Like in bed, I will readjust the blanket over the pillow (I hug my pillow to sleep and hold it against my chest when laying in bed) like the mf needs the blanket.

And I kid you not, I’ve caught myself multiple times, ‘comforting’ the pillow when distracted or spaced out. Like I’m rubbing my hand up and down like I’m comforting it with back rubs😐😐😐

Like What? Why???

I think this probably says something about my brain that I don’t wanna dig for, BUT STILL-

[m31snot]

Why are SOME female readers SOOOOO pressed by the idea of male readers/writers? 💀 Isn't the majority of the "x reader" stories centered around the female audience? Why are YOU complaining about a dude not wanting to write fics for female readers? What point are YOU trying to make to shame the creator for writing gay love? HOW IS IT AFFECTING YOUR DAILY ROUTINE AND FANFICTION IN GENERAL?!?!?!

Telling creators a character is not queer and being continuously bitchy over it won't stop them from making fics of that character. There is no such thing as being "underrepresented" and "oppressed" by ONE fic 🤦

Stop complaining about homosexuality. Start minding your hetero business. ✌️

[alfazoings]

projecting my uni struggles onto them

[ask-poolverine]

Yo Wade what's your opinion on your mini you?

his other katana got bent a bit, sorry

(for mod: Did you run another ask a ship account back in the day cause the art style is quite familiar)

I think they like it

And no I’m not one of the old greats it’s just me and my two little accounts

[maiyeng]

👔 Domestic fluff

[dioslesbianwife]

HIHIGIGIGGI OMG

i saw requests were open so I wanted to request the Stardust Crusaders x reader who can carry them and does it a lot^_^ like princess style i think that would be funny lol

maybe a little idea being the characters are busy doing something and aren't going to b3d because of it and reader has enough, throws them over their shoulder and drops them on the bed to sleep LMAO

I REALLY HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE!!!!!! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAYYYY

HIIII it makes perfect sense, i hope you have a wonderful day/night too!!! thank you for requesting, i hope u enjoy ♡♡!

Jotaro Kujo

The first time you pick Jotaro up, it genuinely short-circuits his brain. He’s used to being a physically dominant presence in any room, the one people orbit around or give space to. Being lifted, cleanly, effortlessly, hits him as a violation of the natural order™. He doesn’t lash out or struggle, he just stiffens, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, as if waiting for reality to correct itself. When it doesn’t, all he manages is a low “Put me down,” said more out of principle than conviction.

After that, it becomes less of an accident and more of an inevitability. Jotaro has an awful habit of pushing himself until he’s well past exhaustion, especially when he thinks stopping would inconvenience the group. You learn his tells quickly: slower reactions, longer silences, the way he starts leaning without realizing it. You never argue with him about rest. You just wait for the moment he’s distracted, then pick him up and carry him to bed. He complains every time, but never with real heat.

What really gives him away is how little he resists after the first few times. He doesn’t tense when your hands settle, doesn’t activate his Stand, doesn’t try to regain control. He just lets it happen, muttering under his breath and pulling his hat lower like that somehow preserves his dignity. 

Joseph Joestar

Joseph clocks the situation immediately and decides to weaponize it for personal enjoyment. The moment he realizes you can carry him, he starts exaggerating everything. Suddenly his legs “just won’t work,” his back “hasn’t been the same since ‘79,” and he’s dramatically announcing his imminent collapse like he’s on stage. Half the time he’s lying. The other half, he’s genuinely more exhausted than he wants to admit.

When you scoop him up, he’s all commentary, jokes, laughter, mock swooning, loudly proclaiming how unfair this is to his image. He throws an arm around your shoulders like he’s settling in for a ride, fully leaning into it. By the time you drop him onto the bed, he’s still talking. Five minutes later, he’s out cold. Every. Single. Time.

What Joseph doesn’t joke about is how much he appreciates it. Being carried lets him stop performing for a moment. Around you, he doesn’t have to be clever or strong or reassuring. He just gets to be tired, and that, to him, is a rare kindness.

Avdol

Avdol is deeply uncomfortable with the idea at first, mostly because he prides himself on self control and composure. He insists he’s fine, that he can walk, that rest can wait. That confidence usually fades mid-lift, when he realizes you’re not struggling and not treating him like a burden. You’re careful with him, deliberate, steady in a way that never feels patronizing.

Once placed on the bed, Avdol always thanks you. Not casually, formally, sincerely. He notices the small details: how you adjust his coat so it doesn’t wrinkle, how you make sure he’s comfortable before stepping away. Over time, his resistance softens into quiet acceptance. He stops insisting quite so hard, stops pretending he isn’t exhausted when he is.

He sleeps more soundly afterward, his posture looser, his expression calmer. He never asks you to do it, but he never pulls away when you do.

Polnareff

Polnareff reacts like he’s been personally betrayed by gravity. There is yelling. There is flailing. There are dramatic accusations about dignity and honor, all delivered while he is actively being carried with zero resistance. The complaints vanish almost immediately, replaced with laughter and commentary about how this is “actually not that bad.”

When you toss him onto the bed, he makes a show of indignation, loudly declaring that this is humiliating and that he’ll never live it down. He falls asleep almost instantly afterward, usually mid-sentence. Later, he retells the story like it was his idea all along, somehow reframing it as a daring act of trust.

Polnareff actually finds a lot of comfort in it. Being carried makes him feel protected in a way he rarely allows himself to acknowledge. Being able to fully relax, even briefly, means more than he’ll ever admit out loud.

Kakyoin

Kakyoin doesn’t protest when you lift him, he freezes. His posture stiffens, his breath catches, and his face goes noticeably warm, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. If you carry him princess-style, he holds onto you carefully, almost apologetically, as if worried he’s doing something wrong. He thanks you softly once you set him down, eyes averted.

Later, he thinks about it far too much. He replays the moment in detail: the steadiness of your grip, the way you didn’t hesitate, the quiet confidence of it. He tells himself it was practical, necessary, nothing more. That logic does absolutely nothing to stop his heart from beating faster the next time you get close.

Kakyoin never asks to be carried, but he doesn’t move away when you reach for him. Over time, he starts lingering when he’s tired, standing just close enough that you’d notice. If it happens again, he’s just as quiet, but a little less stiff, a little more trusting.

Iggy

Iggy assumes this is his right.

If you don’t pick him up fast enough, he glares like you’ve failed a sacred duty. Once in your arms, he settles instantly, curling up with a satisfied huff and closing his eyes. He has no shame about this arrangement and sees no reason to acknowledge that anyone else might.

He falls asleep first. Always. No exceptions.

Victorious.

[purperel-men]

Bro I can’t this bloody Apps search Engine anymore-

I search ___ x MALE Reader

But they decided to fucking slap me in the face with a Fuck U

‘___ x feMALE Reader’

And it’s SPECIFICALLY happens when I try to get a Male Character x Male Reader-

TUMBLER LET THE GAY FIND ME HOLY SHI

I’m so fucking done with this shit.

[adozowa]

~ { 1 / ? } . catfished ❥ JJBA

◠ ◠ ◡ ◡ ; ; I cooked up an idea, what if the stardust crusaders + enemies met up with a male reader, but he looks REALLY feminine .

oneshot / parts

. 𓁹 SDC ( not separated ) x Male stand user reader . 𓀠 ! The stand is to transform into a beastly deceiving fox , and having the power to hypnotize people and make illusions .

+ Iggy included quite early, i love him too much.

! WARNING 『 incorrect pronouns/terms . misgendering . Swearing . Derogatory terms . Cannibalism . Iggy, beware of farts .』

!!! Reader has an adopted deceased child .

★ ! Divider credit ; cafekitsune ~ ◠﹏◠

—— —— . THE DESERTS DESIRE . —— ——

The Crusaders traversed in the fiery desert, sweating their faces off and trying to navigate with the sun burning away their pupils. The heat waves never paused, giving the group an extremely difficult time.

" when is this heat going to STOOOOOPPP!!! MY HAIR IS GETTING RUINED . " polnareff groaned, looking at his hair which was full of sand particles and such.

" stop complainin', it's only a few kilometers till our next stop. " Jotaro hissed at the silver haired man's complaints, shushing the French into sulking in silence.

" well jotaro, it really is quite hot.. Maybe we should find some shade and rest for a while? " kakyoin suggested, looking at Joseph.

" I mean, look at your grandfather. " Kakyoin looked at Joseph, who was sweating balls as his mechanical arm twitched like a ballistic out of control robot.

" tch, good grief. Fine, you fuckin drama queens are so damn picky. " Jotaro sighed, pulling out the map in annoyance as the two sweating champions' faces were oh so bright with happiness.

" It doesn't seem like there are any stops in this part, we haven't travelled too far from the city so maybe there are some land structures nearby to give us a good spot. " avdol studied the map making his final conclusion as the other crusaders just stuck to his plan.

𓀞 𓀟 𓀢 𓀣 `` all the old paintings on the tomb...they do the sand dance, don't ya know? `` ~

A few minutes of walking more and almost melting away, the men had FINALLY found a cave, which was weird considering the fact they're in the desert. But polnareff couldn't give one shit and dived in.

" FINALLY SOME DAMN SHADE. " polnareff sat, caressing the walls of the cave. Relieved he doesn't have to endure that damn sun anymore.

" Yare yare, you have the survival instincts of a fucking pineapple. " jotaro sighed, sensing something eerie from the cave, brushing it off thinking it was just some instinct from all the stand attacks.

Joseph lied on the dusty grounds of the cave, panting and gasping for air. As avdol and kakyoin sat on some rocks, feeling as heated as the rest but not so dramatic.

Iggy on the other hand, refused to enter the cave. Although he was on the verge of passing out from the heat, he just couldn't bring himself to enter the cave. Something sinister composed within the dark structure and Iggy could feel death itself from it. He barked and barked as the crusaders looked at the dog, confused.

" come on you damn mutt, ya sense a rat in here...? " Polnareff said in annoyance and groaned at the barking dog, yet he was shivering at the thought of a rat in his hair.

Jotaro's eyes widened, looking at the deep part of the cave. Was it always this deep? It seemed so shallow when they first spotted it.

" avdol, use your stand to light the way. I think Iggy's up to something, meanwhile gramps, take care of the dog. " jotaro stood, approaching the menacing dark wonders of the stone structure as avdol followed behind, using his stand to gleam and peer through the darkness. Avdol had this power of these candles to sense danger and to lead the way.

Traversing into the deep cave, jotaro felt quite spooked. There was something bizarre right up ahead, it had a pulse. And it doesn't seem too friendly. Avdol breathed shakily, getting goosebumps just from the mere Aura of whatever was inside the shadows.

" Alright, avdol. I need you to use magicians red—"

Suddenly, the glowing light disappeared and the candles too. Jotaro was left in complete darkness as avdol was suddenly nowhere to be found.

" AVDOL!? " jotaro yelled out, only but a mere echo responding back. This must be another stand attack, and worse part he couldn't see shit in the damn dark. He stepped on rocks by accident while trying to navigate, and an idea sparked. (Haha get it?)

He took the rocks and started scraping them together in a swift motion, creating a spark. Then, he tore off a large portion of his jacket and turned it into a knot with an end. He lit fire to the cloth and used star platinum's vision to find avdol.

Little did jotaro know, a pair of glowing eyes were following him every step of the way.

— CLATTER —

" —!?" Jotaro quickly reacted to the sound and shot an attack in that direction, yet there was nothing. He stayed alert and tried to head back to the others, yet he just couldn't find the way back even with the light.

" Lost, little one? " an eerie yet gentle voice could be heard as it echoed strangely throughout the cave. The breathing of what seems to be a monster was ragged, and shaking.

" god damnit I can't take a break from these damn Dio sluts. " Jotaro thought, trying to find the source of the voice. What a pain, he couldn't seem to find anything and his fire was about to burn out.

" do you know the feeling of coldness, the presence of no one and being alone? Have you experienced that for years, little one? " the calm yet threatening voice spoke quietly, their eyes glued onto jotaro.

" look, let's get this over, with stand user. I need to know where avdol is and where Dio is hiding. " jotaro unleashed star platinum, glaring at the direction to where the voice came from.

" Avdol? Dio? Who are these people, friends? I never had any. " the beast growled, their voice lowering by the second with a hint of anger and frustration.

" if this is an act, drop it. "

" ... " silence could only be heard after that, as a clear presence could be felt. Jotaro turned around only to see a... Woman? She looks frail and cute, like a little butterfly. But that's not what jotaro thought.

" Look, bitch. I know those foolish tactics of yours and I know you're lying, so drop it. " jotaro leaned back, observing the lady. The menacing aura is unwavering around you.

You sighed, scratching your head in confusion. You really didn't know. You sniffed the surrounding air, smelling the smoke from the fire and retreating back.

" that scent is intoxicating, could you put out that little fire of yours.? " you covered your nose, screeching. Your sense of smell was quite strong, too strong in fact.

Jotaro glared, it seems like you are telling the truth, but he can't trust you so easily. Especially a cavewoman or something. He shook his head, refusing to drop the fire.

" lead me to avdol and I'll put it out. "

" WHO IS AVDOL?? " you snapped, coughing as the scent got worse. It's as if it was going to take your lungs even though you weren't inhaling the smoke anyway.

" the guy you took, gold necklace, brown hair. " jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. This hoe was really stupid it was getting on his nerves.

" oh him? I just put him outside . " you pinched your nostrils, looking at jotaro with such innocent eyes. Pointing to where jotaro came from, you led the way innocently. Was this the person earlier? No, it felt like a stand. Is it this woman's stand who spoke? Jotaro was clouded with thought as he chose to follow, but keeping star platinum locked onto the lady.

You stayed in the shadows, pointing to the crusaders who were happily conversing with each other. Jotaro's eyes widened, you were telling the truth? This is such a bizarre occurrence. He knew they were real, so he looked back at you.

" the hell's your motive ? " jotaro put the fire out as you just stared at him, your pupils suddenly becoming into a slit figure. Your mouth snapping a bit wider and long ears starting to grow atop of your head.

" I don't want people to suffer the same fate as me, considering you also have a stand. " you just stared at him, ears twitching and head tilting in curiosity of the group behind him.

Before you could make any other move to turn back though, you'd been punched by star platinum. You growled and hissed in pain as you scared at him, eyes full of betrayal.

The group had been alerted as they all summoned their stands, ready to strike. This was bad, you were cornered. They must be much smarter than you, you've been in this cave for years now so this was VERY bad.

" What's wrong jotaro? Is it a stand attack? " kakyoin prepared hierophant green, glaring at what seems to be the enemy, which was you.

" H-hey u didn't do anything why are you all turning against me!? " you shook in fear as your voice trembled, they all faltered a bit. A woman's voice?

" is that a lady? Jotaro why are you harming women! " polnareff gasped as he looked at him with such disgust which earned a scoff in return.

You seemed very unbothered, but deep down you wanted to rip your hair out and flash everyone here right now. Your eyes were hypnotizing, beautiful pupils piercing through the silver gentleman. You took a step forward yet again, showing your beautiful hair and face. Your skin looked soft and glowed like an opal gleaming in the light.

The crew shook, what is a beautiful lady like this doing here? A cave in the middle of the desert? Doesn't seem right. Avdol looked at kakyoin and then at you, he seemed quite confused. He could feel something evil within you, but there was not enough evidence.

Joseph couldn't care less as his lungs were being invaded by the smell of a foul fart from Iggy. He choked as tears started rolling down his wrinkly face in terror. He looked like a fool in doing so and proceeded to get chased around.

Polnareff on the other hand, he was drawn in immediately. Your beauty was divine, not even angels from heavens above could compare to your beauty. He retreated his stand upon laying eyes on you and he was flushed red. Smoke was coming out of his ears like a cartoon character looking at their crush.

He shoved jotaro out of the way as he kneeled on one foot, taking your hand and covering it with light kisses. He looked at your face with such love and care, captivated by your looks a little too much.

" mon amour, ta beauté est aussi divine que les étoiles dans le ciel nocturne solitaire. tu te démarques dans la foule, étant pratiquement un dieu parmi les mortels. " polnareff muttered, pupils shaped like hearts. You had no idea what he was saying but took it as a compliment anyway. You batted your eyelashes at him, feeling "flattered' . " My, how flattering. " you responded.

You haven't received such love in years not going to lie, you felt bad about what you were gonna do after this. You quickly retracted your hand from polnareff's embrace, as you backed away slowly, a look of sorrow. washing over your face.

" Oh, but someone like me could never be worthy of your love. " polnareff was about to MELT, he gave you more compliments with assurance while bombarding your personal space. Jotaro sweat dropped, this isn't ideal at all. He eyed kakyoin, suspicious of this person.

" Kakyoin, avdol, can you pry pol off the woman? I don't feel good about this at all. " jotaro faced the two, his cold stare making it more of a demand rather than a request. They both nodded, going to get polnareff, but then, you and him were gone. The three jumped back in shock, what the fuck just happened? They haven't even taken an eye off you both for a minute and now you're both gone.

" I knew it, damn woman. " Jotaro eyed one of polnareff's earring which was on the ground, as the sound of a Yelp could be heard deep in the darkness.

" GRAMPS, get off your ass and take iggy with you. Polnareff has been taken by someone. " Joseph stood up, tears in his eyes as Iggy smirked at the chaos he's inflicted onto the old man. As jotaro was the first to approach the darkness, suddenly he was just met with a stone wall.

" What the hell? " he felt the wall as avdol summoned magicians red for light, only to be met with stone. That's odd, the cave suddenly was so... Small, where did the dark extension of it go? Kakyoin felt the wall up, this cave really was small to begin with.

" This is strange, the cave isn't a stand and it really is real. " kakyoin muttered, he couldn't believe what was happening right now. The hell happened to the mysterious parts of the cave? Was it all just the crusaders' imagination?

* BARK BARK . *

Then, commotion could be heard outside the cave. It was you, running in your beastly form with polnareff shitting bricks in your mouth, swinging like a noodle as you sprinted across the sand. Bastard, you pulled a dirty trick to distract the others from you running away.

You grinned, polnareff's body swinging in your mouth. You bit slightly on him, but not enough to completely bite him in half. He's currently passed out after you hit his head before making your escape but he's sure to be fine before you completely devour him, right? People need to eat once in a while you know?

" OH MY GODDD!! " Joseph yelled, mouth wide agape and dramatic years flowing at the scene as you ran off into the horizon. With jotaro and his quick thinking, he had an idea on how to keep up with your fast figure.

[edgebug]

AWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO

i had the absolute JOY of working with @kandisheek for the Halloween @poolverinebangs event!!!! I loved Kandi's fic so much that I ended up scope-creeping and made a whole comic WHOOPS

this was seriously so fun and Kandi is so talented and sweet, would do this again 10/10

kandi's phenomenal fic is here:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

---

Imagine a Logan who didn't lose the X-men, who still has his "family," but who still has his walls sky high. Who is still an alcoholic (albeit less chronically than our Logan) and still keeps everyone at a distance despite craving company like a moth to a flame. Who purposely isolates himself, denying it under the guise of indifference, out of fear of rejection. Who tries to protect himself by building a fortress around himself only to result in nobody being able to scale those impenetrable walls.

Who has people around him (Jean, Scott, Charles) but still feels alone in the world. Who is physically present (showing up at dinnertime, attending meetings, occasionally completing missions alongside them) but emotionally absent. Who tries so hard to try to be there, to be emotionally open, to give back what he's received, but fails spectacularly.

And everyone else notices. But they don't say anything, afraid of breaking the careful balance that keeps Logan just close enough to touch but just far enough that their fingers only manage to graze him. And so they keep up this balancing act, getting used to the tenseness and slightly uncomfortable silences.

They resign themselves to it eventually. To only being able to climb halfway and receive messages through a window.

And Logan resigns himself to this loneliness too. In 200 years, nobody has managed to break through. Why would they be able to now?

Imagine this Logan meeting the current Wade.

Wade was sent on some kind of mission by the TVA to investigate a disturbance in the timeline of this universe. His Logan offered to join him, but he turned him down. He felt uneasy bringing Logan to a universe where his team was still alive, where everything was eerily similar to his original universe except for their fate. He didn't want Logan to have to go through the pain of seeing the life he "could've" had if he hadn't been the "Worst Wolverine." (And, on a deeper level, he felt scared that Logan would realize that he was never enough to fill that void.)

And so he left a very reluctant Logan behind to delve into this alternate universe.

He stumbled out of the portal into some inconspicuous alleyway, brushing the grime off his suit. Lo and behold, he's in a big bustling city that looks almost identical to his own.

It doesn't take him long to begin investigating, searching for what could've caused the disruption in the timeline. He'd planned for this to be a quick mission, a one-and-done, clean-cut resolution so that he could get home in time to eat whatever scraps Logan had somehow managed to assemble into a decent-looking meal.

He was looking forward to eating dinner with Logan and Blind Al. To pressing his leg against Logan's a bit too closely to be platonic—but not yet explicitly romantic—and feeding Mary Puppins under the table to Logan's protest.

And yet, after hours of searching for clues and interrogating mercenaries and shady guys who knew about underground operations, he was stumped.

And so, naturally, when the bad guys didn't have the information he wanted, he turned to the good guys.

Unfortunately, the Avengers weren't particularly active (at least publicly) at the moment, and so he turned to the very group he'd been hoping to avoid: the X-men.

Maybe breaking into their mansion through a window on a random Tuesday wasn't the best way to make an impression, but it got the job done.

However, the X-men seemed to disagree on that front, considering how the few that had been inside (barely any he recognized) were all tensing up and drawing their weapons.

"Woah woah woah," Wade put his hands up in the air placatingly, "Slow your roll. I'm not here to cause trouble for you guys. I know it looks bad but I promise I'm here for very important, very legit, very legal, reasons."

"...Reasons that require you to break and enter?" some random X-man Wade didn't care about asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Wade chirped. "I'm sure we're all very busy and I want to go home just as much as you all want to redecorate whatever the fuck this mansion aesthetic is."

"What's wrong with the aesthetic?" Colossus (finally, someone he recognized!) asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it, pal," Wade quickly deflected, "Anyway, straight to the point: do any of you guys know what the hell could be fucking up your timeline? Because, unfortunately, none of the assholes on the streets seem to know. And, even more unfortunately, I have to fix that."

"...What do you mean fucking up the timeline?" Jean asked, slowly.

"Well, it's a long story—"

—one that ended up with Wade sitting in the big bad office across from Charles Xavier, who took an obnoxiously sophisticated sip of his tea.

"So you're from another dimension," he starts with.

"Yup, born and raised, baby."

"...And you're here because you believe there's something wrong with this timeline?"

"You know it. Although I don't see why we're going through the whole questioning shebang when you can just read my mind and get it over with," Wade leans back in the chair, his tone flippant.

"Well—"

Before Charles can finish speaking, the doors loudly slam open to reveal a very real and very angry Wolverine.

"Where is the fucker who broke in?" he growls, claws unsheathed.

"Right here, buddy," Wade grins and waves.

"Why is he still here and not locked up?" Other-Logan's fiery eyes flick toward Charles.

"Because—"

"—Because I'm here to save your ass, Wolvie. I wasn't the one who messed up your universe and I sure as hell wasn't the one who pissed in your cereal this morning, considering I, y'know, wasn't here."

Wolverine looks slightly taken aback at the audacity of Wade taunting him after breaking and entering.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy some eye candy—I really do, trust me—but can we finish this shit up so I can get back to my universe?" Wade eyed the tense, battle-braced posture Other-Logan was sporting, "And holy shit, peanut, we can try out pain play later but let's save the kinks for the bedroom, yeah? Put those claws away for now."

Wolverine looks like he's about to choke him or choke himself with the way he's clenching his fists in... anger? incredulity? Something to that effect.

And so began their very real, very legit, very spectacular journey to save the timeline! Unfortunately, the other X-men apparently had better shit to do (lazy fuckers), and so while they were out on their own pre-determined missions, Wolverine and Deadpool had to work together. Again. (Well, "again" for one of them.)

And it was going... okay. Surprisingly. They'd managed to locate a few places with suspicious activity using the X-men's network and while Wade would probably have to wait on that homemade dinner, the mission wasn't a total disaster so far (which was better than he could say for last time).

Except, there were a few... slip-ups.

It started when The Wolverine (because he wasn't His Logan, not to Wade) and Deadpool (because he wasn't His Wade either) were out raiding some base that had suspicious activity around when the timeline started having issues. They hadn't uncovered anything substantial so far, but there was definitely something shady going on. Call it a Spidey Sense.

Wolverine was slaughtering some enemies after threatening them within an inch of their life to spill their secrets, as usual, when one henchman (a mutant of some type, judging by the inhuman speed at which he moved) attacked him from behind. Wade didn't even have time to think, all he saw was Logan getting attacked and in an instant, he'd crossed the distance and embedded a katana in the fucker's head.

He knew Logan would heal. He did. But it didn't make it easier to look at him, bloodied and bruised, and not want to murder the person who caused it. It reminded him too much of the way Wade found Logan—reckless and suicidal, resigned to drinking himself to death and not caring how hurt he was.

(And, more than that, he just hated to see him in pain. He liked to think it was reciprocal, by the way Logan would slice someone into fucked up organ confetti the second they managed to land a good hit on Wade. He was always a bit more wound up on those nights, a barely tampered rage in his eyes and snarl to his lips that didn't subside until they were back in the apartment, out of their suits, where wounds stitched themselves up. Logan still had a shakiness to him, sometimes, until the injuries were fully gone. He'd thumb at a slash on his arm until the skin was back to the typical scar tissue instead of a distinct cut.)

Wolverine looked back to see Deadpool on top of the mangled corpse.

"Just doing my job," Deadpool said cheerily, trying not to let his voice waver.

"...Sure, bub," Wolverine muttered, eyeing him a second longer before going back to whoever he was torturing.

Fuck.

And then it happened again.

They were taking a breather in the facility they'd just raided, sitting down to catch their breaths and compile their findings before setting off to the next one.

Wolverine was digging through some medkits nearby, despite being healed.

"Woah buddy," Deadpool started, "Don't you think it's a bit early to be getting drunk? I mean, I'm all for freedom of choice, but I don't think the Founding Fathers thought that choice would mean drinking straight rubbing alcohol."

Wolverine stopped, his muscles stiffening.

"...What makes you think I'm looking for rubbing alcohol?" he asked slowly, a tenseness to his voice that was separate from the normal level of annoyance.

Wade quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, y'know, a hunch. I have a sixth sense. Like Spiderman. But cooler! Like instead of a Spidey Sense I have a... uhhh... Deadpool Danger Detonator?"

Wolverine looked at him suspiciously as he continued to ramble, but eventually let it go. Thank god.

And again.

They were fighting some higher-level henchmen, for once. Seems that their trail was finally leading somewhere. These guys were fewer in numbers, but actually packed some bang for their buck and all seemed to have decently strong mutations and some weapons training.

Now, Logan and Wade frequently went on missions together. In fact, at this point, they almost exclusively did jobs together. (It was part of the reason it'd been so difficult to convince Logan to let this job go. It had become routine at this point to go together, to be a Package Deal, Two Parts of a Set, Partners.)

(He'd noticed how Logan would pace anxiously when he went on more dangerous missions by himself. How he'd try and fail to distract himself and inevitably end up on the couch, tense and waiting for Wade to come home before finally, finally, letting out a deep breath and letting his muscles unwind as Wade flopped down next to him. He knew and yet he just... couldn't... this time.)

Suffice to say, Wade knew Logan's attack patterns. He knew where he'd strike and the openings he'd leave and how to cover them. He'd fought him enough himself to tell when he'd use a feint and when he'd actually go for the kill.

And so, when they were pushed back to back, surrounded on all sides, Wade let himself fall into the natural rhythm of it all. Weaving in and out between Wolverine's attacks, throwing knives where he'd miss with his claws, covering his back, and doing a masterful job at eliminating the enemies.

And Wolverine noticed. Because of course he did. He'd glanced at Wade with something akin to surprise (or even recognition) a few times when he'd managed to match him precisely.

But it felt oddly... good to be matched. Wolverine was used to working alone, to having backup but never really working alongside someone else. He fought on the same team as the X-men, yes, and they did sometimes go on joint missions together, but he never felt equal to them. Like he could throw a punch and they'd match him exactly.

He was used to leading the group, to being on the front lines of the attack, to splitting off and doing his own thing. He'd never felt this type of ease when working with someone. Like he didn't have to glance over his shoulder to check their work or see if they'd been hurt.

And so, as they fell into a comfortable rhythm, Logan found himself smiling. A feral, gleeful thing.

At the joy of finally having a match. The animalistic thrill of getting to play with his prey together without the other person shying away or shutting him down.

Logan always had to toe the line between human and animal. Giving in just enough to his animal instincts to make him a useful tool, a sharp weapon, while still retaining his humanity enough to be palatable. He could never just let go and be both. Let the line disappear in the sand as he dipped his toes in and out of the tides without feeling like someone was yanking him back or further in.

For the first time in his 200 years of existence, Logan felt free.

(When he finally came down from the adrenaline high, he looked at Wade with an indescribable expression. If Wade didn't know better, he'd almost say it looked like awe.)

And again.

They were bickering over something stupid. It doesn't matter how it started, only that now they both were bristling with annoyance and had their pride on the line.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Wolverine growled, clenching his hands tightly.

"Or what? Is the kitty gonna unsheathe his claws?" Deadpool goaded, "Are you going to shish-kebab me? Stab me?"

"And if I do?" A challenging spark entered Logan's eyes.

"Been there, done that, honey badger. You'll have to get realllllll creative to top the Honda Odyssey," Wade smirked.

"What the hell does a car have to do with me murdering you?"

Deadpool blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't know that reference. Bummer. The point is, you aren't going to get anything out of impaling me. Except for the rise of a different type of weapon. If you get what I mean."

Wolverine gruffly retorted with some petty insult, but the searching look in his eyes didn't fade.

And again.

"C'mon Wolvie, you know I like it when you penetrate me, but let's try something new for a change, yeah? How about you hold me tenderly instead—" (Wolverine had never impaled him once.)

And again.

"Or what? What are you gonna say? 'Hey bub, I'm Wolverine, I'm The X-man and I'm masculine and I like woodworking and being a lumberjack in the forests of Canada.'" (Wolverine had never revealed that. To anyone, actually.)

And again.

"You know, maybe instead of drinking anything available, you can wait and I'll buy you some of the good stuff. I'll get you some beer and whisky on the house as long as you brave the very hard journey of staying sober for more than ten fucking minutes." (Wolverine had never told him his taste in alcohol.)

Until, finally—

"You know me."

"What?"

"You know me." It was a statement, not a question. Wolverine was looking at him with that same look in his eyes. The one he'd had since their first fight together where Deadpool had freaked the fuck out over someone nearly stabbing him.

"I sure hope I do, considering we've been working together for two days now," Deadpool chuckled, averting his eyes.

"No. You know me. You know me." Logan had a type of vulnerability in his eyes, one that he hadn't seen since he'd left his Logan behind.

"...What do you mean?" Wade asked, reluctantly.

"You know things about me that you shouldn't. But you couldn't have gotten it from anyone because nobody else knows them either. You know how I fight. What my habits are. What I like. What I hate. Therefore, you know me," he said, and that might be the most words Wade has ever heard this Logan speak at one time.

And Wade wants to deny it, if just to hurry along this mission and avoid the emotional turmoil of confronting his feelings with a Logan that isn't even his. But he sees the earnest look in Logan's eyes and he can't just ignore it. Can't deflect like he would for anyone else.

"...You're right, I do know you."

"How?" Logan's eyes are piercing, searching for answers. Desperately, almost. Like a man stranded in the desert, insatiably thirsty, who just learned that there's an oasis.

So Wade tells him. A short version, anyway. Tells him about snatching his Logan from another universe, getting thrown into the void, and then working together to save his world. Tells him about asking Logan to stay, and how they've been living together since. How they go on missions together and make dinner together and watch shitty reality TV together with Blind Al and their dog.

(Doesn't tell him how he refused to let his Logan come along, that he wanted to, that he'd do anything to keep his Logan with him even if it hurts to be away.)

Finally, the inevitable question comes up: "Why did Logan abandon his universe?"

And Wade tells him that too.

And Logan... doesn't know how to feel.

A part of him feels horrified. That there's a universe out there where he failed the X-men so horrendously. Where he drank himself into a stupor and stumbled back in to find them dead. Where he lived his entire life denying that he cares and building up his walls only for him to crumble anyway when they're gone (only for him to have nothing to reminisce on because of it).

But a larger part of him (a shameful, bitter part of him) feels envy curling around his chest, squeezing his heart and constricting his throat until he's barely able to breathe.

Because of course, it'd take losing everything that mattered to him right now to be able to find what he's been missing this whole time. He couldn't just be happy with the X-men, he had to be selfish and want more despite all they've done for him.

A greedy, wretched part of him thinks it'd be worth it. To throw it all away just so that he could have someone like Wade who talks about him not as a colleague, not as a teammate, but with a fondness so evident he could choke on it. Someone who knows Logan, not The Wolverine. Who cares about the little details like how he furrows his brow and what his favorite drink is and the exact pitch his voice takes when he genuinely laughs instead of just how quick he can kill enemies.

Someone who knows him as Logan—a selfish, possessive, scared, pathetic, insecure, asshole—and still wants him. Still loves him.

He's always had to hide parts of himself. Always had to don a mask of stoicism, careful indifference, and harsh words. Because then, people would hate him for that. They would push him away because he was rude, he was callous, he was brutal, but they wouldn't look deeper.

Because if Logan bared himself to someone as he is, vulnerable and terrified of losing those he loves, and they rejected him?

It'd be a worse fate than death.

But here Wade was, talking about him—as a person, not a hero—and smiling so visibly Logan can tell behind the mask, speaking of him warmly even when remembering how they used to fight.

Logan feels something unfamiliar in his gut. A concoction of jealousy, hatred, and... relief. Happiness. Possessiveness, even.

That he could be seen and loved despite it.

Logan knows what love feels like. Knows how it feels to care about people, despite how he acts. He knows how to feel protective and worried.

He's felt attraction before. To Jean, who had soft skin and a pretty smile and who always showed courage in the face of danger. To Scott, even, who commanded with a strength in his voice that sometimes had heat running through Logan's veins.

This is different.

This isn't just love. Isn't just attraction. It's yearning—awful, honest, raw yearning for something he desperately wanted but knew he couldn't have. Knew he shouldn't have.

But he wanted it. He'd felt empty for so long, even surrounded by people, even with people he cares about and who he knows reciprocate. He's been trapped in limbo for so long: never alone but always lonely, given enough scraps to stay in one place and fear loss while still feeling an itch under his skin for something more.

To be understood. To be seen. To be loved. To belong to someone instead of being a stray, wandering from door to door and taking whatever handouts he can while sleeping in their shitty garage.

Logan is an animal at heart, really. The Wolverine had always been inside him, influencing his feelings and emotions in a way normal humans couldn't quite relate to or understand.

And like all animals, the thing he wants the most is a home. A place to belong.

He stares at Wade as he continues rambling about the Logan from his world, talking with an energy he'd never had before.

A home, huh?

[gigason]

Wade got back from a mission exhausted and Logan didn't bother to push him off when he passed out on him while talking he kinda likes it

[pinpintedoodle]

mukbang

[curupia]

New fic drop

(Updates daily)

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

1. Nutrition

Making sure to provide enough of the right nourishment is essential to keeping a healthy and happy Wolverine. You will probably notice early on that they will eat almost anything, this is, however, not a free pass to neglect proper nutrition. Keep the junk food to a minimum by consuming it immediately after leaving the grocery store on the walk home so that all that’s available in the house are healthy whole foods like deli meat and sliced cheese.*

*[author’s note: in my personal experience favorite foods include, but are not limited to: meat (all forms and varieties, but especially red meat), baked goods, pizza, assorted granola (they like to have something to crunch), and alcohol — any will do, but stick to beer if you want to keep your Wolverine happy AND hydrated].

[rageflippedtables]

If you manage to take down one, the other is never far behind...