#bruh writes

[bruh-anator3000]

Do u think Logan would love a vampire. I feel like thats the healthiest relationship the Wolverine and a vampire could have. Like, neither ever dies. When blood is sucked, its easily replenished. Both live a bajillion years. I feel like that would be funny. Logan isn't the oldest fart in the world anymore. His pookie bear is at least 500.

"You make me feel young," he snorts, rudely interrupting your traumatic retelling of the bubonic plague

[bruh-anator3000]

As much as Miguel loved to absolutely destroy you, loved how you cried beneath him and begged for mercy from the treatment you asked of him - there was something he loved even more.

He was obsessed with taking care of you after such rough nights.

Admittedly, he wasn't very good at it when you first met. He ran the next morning like the house was on fire the first night you two shared. But you gave him something wonderful, you reminded him there didn't have to be fear when it came to caring.

And now, well, he couldn't stop caring for you. Cleaning up the sweat from your skin with a damp rag and gentle touch. Cleaning off your tears and spit, kissing up every part of you as he wiped you down. His large hands warm and supportive as he helps you sit up just enough so he can lift a glass of water to your swollen and probably numb lips.

Miguel doesn't stop there, how can he? You've given him such a beautiful night, trusting him with your body and your pleasure, he owes it to you to thank you.

Next, he's rubbing some soothing balm over your legs, your arms, and anywhere he's bitten. He'll get up after kissing your forehead and promising you he'll be right back. He returns not a moment later with your favorite pajamas, helping you into them by lifting each limb with care.

He preferred to sleep with pure skin contact, but he knew how cold you got at night.

Even if you're back to yourself, Miguel doesn't quit. He's got a brush through your hair now, keeping it out of your face. And you can't help but laugh when he asks if you need him to do your skin care.

He's just so. obsessed. with you. He can't help it. Seeing you so happy is better than anything he could ever ask for. Knowing he could break you down and build you back up, your trust is within him completely. How lucky he was to have you all to himself.

His hands are all over you. Rubbing your back as he holds you close to his chest. Kissing your face delicately as he murmurs how much he loves you. Holding you close all night long.

Then leaving you to wake up alone, soft music you can hear him mumbling along to drifting in from the kitchen as the smell of your favorite breakfast wafts in.

He just loves taking care of you.

[bruh-anator3000]

"The anomaly was reported in this dimension just minutes ago." Miguel is talking, surveying the area, but you don't hear him. You're too focused on your 16 year old self's biggest wet dream come to life.

"Got a staring problem, bub?" Logan Howlett, aka The Wolverine, blows out a plume of smoke in your face. His hair is somehow well kept, yet messy. Scruffy, like his beard.

He takes a minute, looking you over with a small sniff. His burly brows furrowing. Leaning back in his stool to look past your shoulder to Miguel.

"The hell is that?" He scoffs at Miguel's suit. His sharp eyes land on you again.

A subtle snikt! And your stomach tightens.

"I asked you a goddamn question." You're wondering where the nearest motel is. "Quit staring, bub."

[bruh-anator3000]

im obsessed with the Black Cat, I hope that's clear, too. and Miguel. And Logan and Wade, so what if we mashed them all up in a blender and see what happens?

Edit: I didn't mean for this one to get so out of hand, but it did, so its a short story now I guess.

Warnings: sexual themes, hella suggestive, SPOILERS HINTED from the new Deadpool, tension sexy styles, I might get Gambit '97 involved so we can listen to '4 big guys' for part two, it is a love triangle/square, trust and don't worry. Everyone's bisexual. No pronouns for reader used, but written w fem!reader in mind, that's why I'm saying bisexual, but this could just be gay for my amabs.

Parinings: Black Cat!reader x Miguel O'Hara x Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson (uh-huh. I said what I said)

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Like, you didn't want to bring your roommates along with you for this heist. God. You didn't even want their sticky fingers on the paper plans. But you were running low on rent, Blind Al was a bitch now that they suspended her coke supply, and your normal crew got sick!

Dr. Boris Korpse was the smartest man alive. He could hack any system, jimmy any lock, and blew the ones he couldn't up. Bruno wasn't the brightest, but he was the bravest. And he had the muscles to prove it. He was a great getaway driver, too. And they were sick.

Wade was smart... enough. Logan was... decently strong. Logan was more of a brute, actually. Careless with his strength when it came to it, but trusting Wade Wilson to drive you home safe? With his self destructive streak? It was safer to have him do the code cracking. Hopefully.

"I wonder how many people caught the earlier exposition is from the actual comics," Wade grunted under his mask, typing in a special security code into the keypad.

Looking around with furrowed brows, he did realize it was just you three, right? You glanced at Logan, wondering if he understood what Deadpool was saying. He only gave a slight shake of his head.

"It's a quick in and out," You reminded the two, walking past the gates as the hissed open, thanks to Wilson. How he knew the password so easily, you didn't know. He said something about 'writer being too lazy to build up to the reveal,' which made it 'easier to follow if he just knew.'

Logan grunted as he followed. It frightened you how well he could retain the plans you've gone over so many times this week. It was great for him, and for you! But also sucked, because they guy replacing your 'smart guy' still needed a refresher.

You take your stance beside the large bars hiding the painting. Idly looking around while Logan let out a primal roar as he pried the gap between the metal bars wider.

"I bet that's what it sounds like when you're close, huh?" Wade snickered, pinching the yellow fabric on his hips. You cringed for several reasons. Wade's constant immaturity. And, God's above, Logan's ridiculous outfit.

Honoring the X-men or not, the yellow was as bright as a trafficlight.

You slipped through the widened gap now, ignoring Wade's whistle behind you. "You do realize this is supposed to be a silent mission?" You sneered, now on the other side of the enclosure.

Wade shrugged. "Don't worry, peaches. Nothing bad ever happens to the sexy ones. Logan might get left behind, but you and me?" His mask hid the way he bit his lip and winked. It looked like he was just staring at you.

"Alright." You sighed and moved on. That was the best way to handle these two. They gave you no other choice. I mean, you could give in and fuck them, but you were planning to save that for later if they did a good job tonight.

With the painting carefully removed, the bars bent back in place, and Wade managing to keep his pants on for a few minutes, all that was left to do was leave. You had Logan carry the painting as you all ran back to the World War 1 exhibit - the way you entered through.

You made sure the two were in front of you the entire time. You couldn't risk them getting lost, their bulk and dead brains might break something if you weren't watching them carefully. And the red and blue lights glowing as you ran past were not any help.

You stopped dead in your tracks. That wasn't your normal bisexual lighting. There were no sirens, either.

You jogged back a few paces, stopping by the archway of one of the many halls in the museum. Face to face with the digital glow of a blue and red mask.

"Hey Spider," Grinning softly, you leaned on the doorway. The Spider-Man hung upside-down on his red wire webs, per usual. You didn't need to see his sexy face to see that stoic pout he always wore.

"Good evening." He greets in that deep voice, hinting with an accent you loved. The red outlines of his eyes squinting as you boop his nose. "Are we really going to do this tonight?" He scowls, and you swoon.

He flips down, landing on his feet. Broad shoulders and thin waist beautifully extenuated by the suit that was more code than fabric. Towering over you, red blades on the back of his forearms.

"At least take your mask off," You taunt. To which he does. When has Miguel ever denied that request? As infuriating as it was, it was also a very freeing day when the two of you finally put the suits aside and fu- talked. In bed.

His brown curls looked neat today. Dark red eyes watching your every move. That pout on his sharp angled face was too cute. He was so grumpy all the time.

He glances behind you, leaning over slightly to look at the damage you've done. "Portrait of Madame X?" He notes the missing piece of work. Thick brow arching in suspicion.

You shrug. "She's an idol of mine." An idol worth 20 million to your buyer. But he didn't need to worry his pretty little head about the details.

"Do you want a 10 second head start?" He offers, placing a hand by your head and leaning in. Keeping you between his hard chest and the wall. His lips parted with a slight smirk.

"Bub, where'd you go?" Logan's gruff voice grows closer. Wade skipping alongside him. Both of them stopping dead in their tracks at the sight of Miguel.

His mask quickly ripples into place and he steps back, snarling. "Who are you?" His eyes dart to the painting you were supposed to be stealing, in some other man's hold. Keeping his body towards and more in between to block you from the other two, he snarls.

"I am soaking wet right now." Wade groans softly, admiring this little stand off. He wasn't kidding, Spider-Man had been in his 'hit' list for a few years now.

Miguel bristles, back going tense. And as great of a view that was, you knew it meant trouble.

"No, they're with me." Grabbing his broad and beefy shoulder, you push him back. Accidentally putting yourself in the middle of this odd triangle you've created.

Miguel glowers at you. "My regulars were out. I needed an extra hand." You shrug it off. That's all they were. Extra hands. In a heist. You totally weren't going to make out with them on the car ride home.

Tension thick, your shoulders weigh down as you look at all three of the men. A tinge of embarrassment hits you as you realize how similar their figures looked. You definitely had a type.

Wade breaks it up, or attempts to with another sentence you don't exactly understand. "Jesus, if the writer would get over themselves, I would fuck you two so hard." He gestures to Logan and Miguel. Earning an angry grunt from both of them that just seems to further his excitement.

"I'm so pissed we have to wait for a part two."

"Part two? Of what?" You raise a brow, looking at Wade.

He waves a hand. They don't get it.

...

But you do. And if you want a part two, please let me know! This was just an idea festering (that got out of hand a little) and I'm not sure what to make with it just yet. I also need a title for this, so if you guys have any suggestions, please let me know. Love you!

[bruh-anator3000]

Another quick fix of Death and the Wolf. Honestly, I wrote this based on a headcannon* and wanting to tie in some more details to this story, but this could honestly be read separately.

Warning: Weed, chronic pain, cancer mentions, they were roomates? Omg they were roommates. Sexual suggests/comments but its all fluff, Wade trying his best and slightly ooc but thats how pain is, Logan's emotionally constipated, and can't get high. No pronouns used for reader. Written in an hour-ish

*h/c: as incredible as Deadpool is, sometimes the cancer really wears his body down. The best cure? Getting stoned.

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Reader

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It's not uncommon for you to wake up before the other two. Sleeping wasn't a strong suit of yours, and the couch bed wasn't supportive. It was weird, however, when it was just you for longer than an hour. Usually Logan would've rumbled and grumbled his way through for a morning whiskey.

It would've been something you brushed off and ignored. Let them sleep in, and possibly have the apartment to yourself, but this case didn't feel right. Setting your coffee mug aside, you quietly call for Logan and Wade as you open their bedroom door.

You peek your head in, and find an unusual scene. Logan was awake, his arm wrapped around Wade while reading some book he must've found on the floor. Wade was curled into his side, eyes squeezed shut as his chest rose and fell with huffs.

"Hey," You start softly, announcing your presence. It felt weird interrupting a moment like this, seemed very intimate, but Logan didn't shoot out of bed and start cussing, so maybe it wasn't as inappropriate as you guessed. "Everything okay?"

Logan glanced over, shaking his head. He cleared his throat, planning to explain. Wade beat him to it.

"He pegged me so hard last night," Wade chuckled, wincing slightly. He sounded out of breath. And he wasn't turning around to give you vivid detail of such a night - like he would anytime he had sex.

"His pain's flaring again." Logan rolled his eyes. His hand wrapped around his shoulders gently pats his side.

"Am not." Wade quickly covers, but you've decided Logan was the truthful one a long time ago. "I'm always in pain, I eat pain for breakfast. I don't..."

He tried to roll onto his back to prove his independence. To show off that he was stronger than whatever his body was going through. The second he pulls away from Logan to demonstrate such, he's crying out with a short but loud groan.

The guttural shout made you wince. This has happened before. Wade will never admit it, but his body is his number one enemy. He thought he could laugh this off and pretend nothing was happening, but when your body is at constant war with cancer, you're going to feel it. Invincible as he may be, not even a man like him could escape the chronic pain.

"I'm not in pain." Hoarsely, he whispered. Logan propped himself up by the elbow, holding his chin. Watching this argument crumble into dust.

"So... you don't want to get high?" Sweetening the honey pot, you carefully step into their room and start searching Wade's bedside table.

"I never said that." He slowly, stiffly turns to watch you.

"I guess I'll get stoned by myself." Finding the collector's Wolverine lighter he bought as a joke, you set it aside and keep looking for his stash.

Logan snorts, watching Wade pout. He gets out of bed next. His plain tank and sweatpants fit comfortably around his frame. He walks around the bed and joins your side.

"Check the bottom drawer, under the panel." The grump suggests as he scoots the covers off of Wade, revealing his unicorn printed sleepwear. You do as he says, pulling the bottom of the drawer up. A small mesh bag of maybe four joints sit there. You'll have to get him more soon.

"Up, up," Logan slides his arms under the poor man's stiff body. One supporting his back, the other beneath his knees. Lifting him out of bed like a pretty princess.

"Oh yes," Wade rests his head on his chest. Really mushing his face into Logan's pecs. "Hold me tighter, you big old man!"

"I will drop you." Logan threatens, with no real intention of doing such. The idea alone makes Wade whimper and shut up.

He must be in a lot of pain.

Grabbing the sack of joints, you follow the two. Thankfully, due to your fantastic sleepy skills, you didn't fold the couch back up. Any other day, Wade would've been frustrated and Logan probably would've yelled because he stubbed his toe on the damn thing. But today, it was perfect.

You help Logan situate Wade, placing all your pillows and then some behind him to assist him sitting up. Logan lights a joint, not without smirking at the novelty Wolverine lighter. 'Cheap gimmick,' he would mutter.

"Can we watch Gossip Girl?" Wade leans into your side, his scarred face looking redder than usual. He was really in for it, crazy inflammation.

"You can't get a woody, though." You warn, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. "You need to relax."

You search through the recently watched playlist, the scent of weed building. Logan takes the first hit. He always insisted he did. 100 something years in smoking, he knew how to 'start a joint properly.' As if that was a real concern to either of you.

Wade shifts over slightly, turning his head to Logan. Smiling while Logan sighs, shaking his head before doing Wade's favorite party trick. Taking in a lungful and a half, he blows it all out through his nose, smoke curling up and wisping at his side burns.

It made him look like a feral beast. Breathing so hot, he was huffing out smoke. Like a sexy dragon. Wade loved it. Logan only did it because Wade loved it.

"You sexy minx," He puckers his lips, waiting for his hit. "My turn!" Logan chuckles and holds the end of the blunt to Wade's lips for him. Encouraging him with a soft 'there you go,' as Wade filled his lungs as much as he could. He wanted to be so stoned, he forgot what the word 'pain' even looked like.

Finally, it's passed to you. Plucking it from Wade's lips, you take a small hit. You weren't trying to speed run the high. The apartment quickly filled up with smoke and the scent of marijuana. It didn't stop until Wade was red eyed and pretty much passed out on your shoulder. You were out a long time ago, anyways.

Logan was the only sober one left. Unfortunate. He wanted to get stoned, but his system would need at least 200 edibles for him to feel something. He kept his arm around Wade, his hand on your shoulder.

Sighing with a hint of relief. He had been worried all morning. It wasn't normal to wake up to a silent Wade Wilson. Wasn't normal to see him crying first thing in the morning. He was in pain, and Logan didn't know how to fix it. And that killed him.

He hated when either of you were hurting, emotionally or physically. He couldn't help. He could bandage any wound but he wouldn't be any calmer. There were several days where he wished to just share a part of his healing factor with you. Days like these, he wanted to somehow absorb Wade's pain. He could handle it. Nearly 200 years of living, he would put up with the pain because he thought he actually deserved it.

Wade may be a talking dick, but he didn't deserve this. He was a kid. You both were kids to Logan. Everyone was to Logan. Young, dumb, broke,

"High school kids," Wade mutters a tune, finishing Logan's thoughts somehow. Execpt he knew you two were older than college students. The high school bit seemed out of place.

"Go back to sleep, Wade." Logan rumbles, deep in his chest. Pulling him closer, and taking you with him. Gossip Girl played quietly, but he didn't care.

He had you and Wade piled onto his side. That's all he needed.

[bruh-anator3000]

Just to save myself. Not edited. Not even thought of until after I write.

...

"Off." You're trying to brush her braids away, you really are. Viktor's trying to do something with that one thing you don't really understand, and Jinx is laying on the shelf above him. Isha is messing with something that she shouldn't, Jayce is God knows where.

"Where is Jayce?" Your not really daughter somehow reads your mind. Viktor coughs, trying to blow her blue braid away from his work.

"Mel." He responds simply, twirling his hair around his finger.

You're grabbing at Isha cause she’s trying to crawl the cabinets to get to Jinx. She grunts in protest, pushing off your shoulder and scrambling up. Laying on top of Jinx, who cares not about the extra weight on her chest.

"He hangs out with that b-"

"Jinx." You catch her. You can hear the eye roll.

"That council woman, too much." She huffs, painted nails playing with Isha's scruffy brown-dyed-blue hair.

Viktor gets frustrated. Can't blame him, there's a rope of blue in his view. Pushing off the counter, he lets the stool wheel him across the lab floor to grab more doohickeys. "You're projecting, Jinx." He mutters, eyes glued to his papers.

"How so?" She huffs in offense. Her bonding time with Viktor disconnected as he wheelied away.

"You're sister spends much time with the council woman's daughter." Jinx sits up, hits her head, grumbling. Isha worries over her, clinging to her and patting her head for her.

"Am not." Jinx retaliates. You gave up a long time ago. Resigned to sitting in the corner, quietly, sneakily, packing up things so you go home. "Vi doesn't even like that piltie pooper."

"You know her name." You place the toolbox aside quietly while Viktor hums.

"Caitlyn? Yeah, I don't care for her." You watch in silent horror as Viktor scoots back over to the tools you put up. Jinx helps Isha down onto the counter before she drops down, too. "She's a blueberry wannabe. I don't get why Vi likes to hang out with that sad excuse of blue hair." Isha nods strongly in agreement.

Viktor glances at her in doubt. You're trying to hide the toolbox.

Viktor's chair squeaks forward. He looks up at you. You look down at him. He nudges you. You don't move.

His eyes narrow.

"Viktor, please," You plead. "I want to go home."

"You can." He huffs. Shoving you aside and taking apart your organization. Damn.

[bruh-anator3000]

Thanksgiving hcs with my main 3 Logan, Miguel, and Viktor. Happy Turkey day chat. I love you <3

...

Thanksgiving with Logan, who walks in with a fresh turkey he killed.

Thanksgiving with Logan, who needs his glasses to help cook.

Thanksgiving with Logan, who slices the food for you in attempts to be helpful and caring.

Thanksgiving with Logan, who has to look away when he says "I'm thankful for you guys or whatever," because he can't be caught having feelings.

Thanksgiving with Logan, and a half hour later, he's splayed in a armchair, snoring louder than a train engine.

...

Thanksgiving with Miguel, who is working in the kitchen non-stop from the night before into the morning of.

Thanksgiving with Miguel, who immediately regrets inviting the arach-kids the minute Hobie quips "This is pretty good for an old man."

Thanksgiving with Miguel, who's watching Peter B and Mayday with a sense of distant sorrow. Thankful he has you, but grieving his daughter, too.

Thanksgiving with Miguel, who reaches for your hand, giving your knuckles a kiss everytime he passes by.

Thanksgiving with Miguel, who won't rest until everyone's out, and everything's clean. Just so he can take you to bed until his internal clock wakes him back up.

...

Thanksgiving with Viktor, and it's just you, Jayce, and Mel.

Thanksgiving with Viktor, who brings a dish his mother used to make

Thanksgiving with Viktor, who anxiously awaits everyone's opinion on his homemade dish, scoffs slightly if one of you acts like it isn't the best thing in the world.

Thanksgiving with Viktor, who keeps your hand in his the entire time, running his thumb over your knuckles constantly.

Thanksgiving with Viktor, and Jayce, and Mel. And you all share a toast. To progress, to hope. To family.

[bruh-anator3000]

A/n: I'm gonna do these in sections cause I'm really stressed rn but I wanna provide the goodies. Happy Halloween, stay safe and enjoy the fall! If you like the story, please comment and like for more!

Summary: Living with The Deadpool and The Wolverine isn't easy. It's even harder when rent is due, and a heist is the only way to pay it off. Balancing bills, love, and being the Black Cat isn't easy, but you manage... sometimes.

Warnings: cursing! Ambiguous as I could be with reader, but I am female and may have written it as a more fem!pov, sexual content hinted at, horny Wade, subtle Logan, Miguel soon to join, not proofread, the rhythm of crime is important to remember.

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader x Wade Wilson x Miguel O'Hara (yah-huh i said what I said)

Part 1. Enjoy!

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1, 2,

"Hello, bag please."

3, 4,

"Clear, next."

1, 2,

"Morning, bag please."

3, 4,

"All good, next."

1, 2,

"Hey, Steve, How's the family?"

3, 4,

"Pretty good! Becca and the kids..." Dammit.

1, 2,

"No way, that's great!" Move.

3, 4,

1-

"Why are we staring at them?"

"Dammit, Wade, let 'em think."

"Guys." You close your eyes, the rhythm has been disrupted. Wade was breathing down your neck, trying to understand what you were doing. Both Wade and Logan stood behind you with crossed arms. Like some sort of bodyguard boy band.

Eyes opening again, you find the line has moved on once more. Chatty John Doe finally left and the rhythm continued. A steady beat of four. "Hello, welcome." One, two, "Have a nice visit," Three, four.

"Your ass looks good in those," Wade mutters to Logan. Who slaps him upside the head.

"Guys." You grit, whipping around. Finding the grumpiest man alive to be - wait for it - scowling. Whereas Wade smiles boyishly, adjusting the cow printed bucket hat you lent him. It was from an... interesting phase of your life.

His thumbs slide under the frog-themed overall straps, laying them neatly on the black tee underneath. "You sure these are good disguises? I mean, it's not easy to hide..." He pauses for a moment, muscles of his brows tensing. Pushing through the unsaid thought, he smirks again. "All this." He gestures down himself.

Logan sniffed, sharing a look. So much unsaid, yet you two learned the trade of Wade. With a low sigh, the grump stepped up, helping the merc with his hat.

"You look fine." He gruffs and tugs the edge of it over his eyes. A rare moment of a smile earned from Wade's whine.

"You're right. It's impossible to hide perfection." You add on with a calm shrug. "We'll just have to hope it can dim it down for a couple of hours."

A genuine smile crosses his face for a moment. Then the cocky I-eat-cock smile is back on. "I know, I must make you both so very hard."

Logan whacks him again.

Reaching into your purse, you fish out two metal disks. Little red lights glimmering invitingly - and Wade snatches one. Making you grumble a sigh.

"These are to help direct the detectors." Logan waited, unlike his counterpart, with folded arms. Watching you explain carefully, nodding once. "You have a metal hip." Your fingers shoved into his waistband.

"I have more than that." His frown lines deepened while he eyed you shimmy your hand down his pants. The cold of the thin disk made his eyes narrow.

Turning to Wade, you found him trying to pull his overalls down.

"No." You took back your little disk, hiding it on his side. Right below his pectoral. "You get a metal rib."

"What?!" He fussed. "When will I feel your hand down MY pants?" You turn away as he pouts.

If each person took four beats, Wade needed to be further down. 6, maybe 7 people away since you and Logan would take up at least 12 counts to bargain with the safety officer. Only three lines. All of them equally as long and getting longer by the minute. You would take the second one. The man working there seemed fed up, he would most definitely deny Logan any sort of special treatment. The lady on the left seemed too caring, she would compliment Wade too much.

The older fella on the right. He took 1, 2, 3, 'have a nice day' - but he would probably have terrible memory. The line seemed shorter for that exact reason.

Wade links his arm with you while you work things out in your head. Laying his chin on your shoulder. At least he was quiet. That less than professional bucket hat nudging your temple.

"You're gonna be with the man over there," Your arm tightens around his, pointing to the kind old man. Who is currently fumbling with a lady's thick leather purse.

Before he can whine and kick and throw a fit, you wave Logan closer. "We're going to the middle - Mister Meanie over there."

Wade pulls back, slack in the jaw. "You're partnering with him? Not me?" He gasped in horror. "What does this fossil have that I don't?!"

"An entire skeleton made of metal." You remained unphased. Logan cracked a quiet smirk.

"Oh, boo hoo." He scoffed, walking away. "No one cares for Deadpool, as usual."

Logan beats you to it, catching Wade's arm before he could storm off and weep. His grip on his bicep firm. But no words leave him. He looked to you for help.

"It'll be over quick." You tried to reassure. "Wait behind 6 people, two more than Logan and I. Then, we'll meet right back up after the alarms go off. Promise."

He continued to pout, but took your word. Easing into a giddy grin when you blew him a kiss, yanking Logan to the center line.

"Do I get one of those?" The living fossil muttered. Barely enough to be heard.

"What?"

"Nothin'." He shook his head instead. Standing by your side in that ridiculous 'scary dog' stance. Legs parted and arms crossed. Glaring ahead. You began to count.

1, 2,

"Welcome."

3, 4,

"Clear, next."

Glancing to Wade, you spot him fidgeting. Shifting from foot to foot, and frequently looking your way. "You sure this'll work?" Logan broke your focus.

"I've tried it before." His brow arched. "Accidentally. But it happened."

"You know another man of metal?" His brows settled heavily over his eyes.

"No, I forgot to take off my chain necklaces at the same time a lady walked through with a hydro flask." You awkwardly looked away. "It was interesting."

He huffed and his shoulders eased. "Sounds like it."

The line was moving as expected. No chatty Jane, or sluggish John. Wade was watching with twitching fingers. Panic building as you and Logan reached the front of the line before him. Mouth dry as he felt like he was messing up the plan. Could cut through, he decided. Ready to push through the toddler and mother in front of him.

"Pardon me," The ugliest country accent you can manage. Wade's eyes widen at the sound, and you can feel Logan cringe in shame behind you. "My uncle 'ere from the war, wit da metal hip, he ain't got his card. Doctor said he ain't gettin' his new one til next week."

Logan feels a physical repulsion towards the security guard who takes a long glance at you. Resisting a snarl as the guard shared a look with his co-worker. The two of them sharing a smile.

"Not happening, sweetheart." Oh, he wanted to bash the mall cop's head. Yet you smiled, it was exactly as you wanted.

Sparing a glance to Wade, he was almost in sync. "C'mon, officer, I ain't trying to be naughty." You bat your lashes and pout your lips.

Wade stepped up to the metal detector. "No. Step through." He waves Logan through.

The perfect symphony to your crime creating ears; every alarm goes off. The one your man of metal went through shut down completely. Wade's metal detector shrieked over and over again. The third one feeling pressured to join in the circuit screaming. Throwing everyone into the perfect panic.

You sighed in peace, watching as more security ran out. Beckoning three people from each row over and lining you all up against the nearest wall. Logan took to your left, and Wade bounced on your right. He tried for your hand, but you refused, an officer running a handheld scanner over you all.

It beeped when it sensed the disk on Wade. "Metal rib, from a motorcycle crash." He smiled, repeating the rehearsed line. "Damn... Vietnam." Left Logan in a weak accent as the detector chirped over his hip. Another lady failed to disclose the piercing in her ear, funnily enough.

Once the hubbub was over, and the guards adapted to scanning by the small held gadgets, you met up with your boys.

"Jesus, what was that?" Logan followed behind. Earning a confused look.

"What was what?" You fixed the way your shirt fit.

"That accent." He grumbled. "I needed to prepare for that."

You snicker. "I said you wouldn't have to talk much." Logan shook his head, hands deep in his leather over flannel jacket pockets.

Wade had already run ahead of you. Wanting to touch and grope anything he could get his hands on. Thinking of what else he would want to steal. Only interrupted when you had to stop him from opening a case with several old time-y guns.

"No! No, look!" He fought back, wiggling out of your hold and prodding at the glass harshly. "It's Logan's!"

You halted. Intrigued and leaning in, you find a musket beside a short story of the 'heroic James L.H.' You snorted so hard, Logan had to figure out what was going on.

"Is that yours?" You cover your mouth. He's quick to growl no. But he's leaning in now.

"Shit." He murmurs. Wade slapping your shoulder from how hard he's been laughing in silence. Your hands firmly placed over your mouth as Logan mumbles to himself, reading and re-reading the story. "Is it?"

You're getting weird stares. You can feel the eyes of a Karen and her child glare through the back of your head. But you and Wade can't stand upright without help, wheezing and hitting each other while Logan comes to terms with being that old.

"That's fuckin' mine?" He swears, trying to open the case to get a better look. Only stopping when you take his hand and lead him away. Shaking your head. "That's... is that my property?"

Wade chortles, snorting from laughing so hard. Hands on his knees as another round of giggles overtook him. The old man grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him along.

"Enough of that, you're gonna attract attention." He grumbles, scratching his sideburns.

"I want your attention." Wade argues, biting his lip. Satisfied when he earns a huff. You meant to add on. Shove it in Logan's face about being the oldest man alive.

When the most obnoxious sound hit your ears.

All three of you halt in your tracks. The lighting of the museum is dimmed in this section as The Avengers theme song played throughout the exhibition. Your face to face with Iron Man's first iron suit.

Logan breaks the silence first. "Fuckin' hell." His fists tightening. A vein in his arm throbbing. Attractive, but scary. He was ready to punch the glass.

You glanced over the exhibit, but there was no way around this. Not to get where you wanted.

"It's fine." A promise you don't even believe. It's not like looking at all these people, hearing their theme, and seeing all the things they've accomplished as humans makes you feel weak.

You weren't any different. You were an incredible human turned vigilante, too! They had suits to do good. You didn't need armor, or super serum, or a germ to make you strong. They were weak. Even if they did have a whole exhibit for them.

They didn't get to steal things, so...

You halt in front of the portrait of Natasha Romanov. A woman with no special suit or powers, a victim of the Red Room. Once considered nothing but a tool, fought her way to the top to run with the best heroes in the world. With nothing but stealth and strength. Coming from nothing to rise to greatness.

Where you, who comes from nothing, stayed there. Embraced it. Became the best thief in the world. But... was that anything worthwhile? Seeing all what you could become, knowing you stayed where you were. Staring in the face of everything you wanted to be. Someone who meant something.

"Hey, it's you this time!" Wade called out again. While Logan was having a staring contest with the mannequin of Captain America, the merc pulled you over to show you Spider-Man's display.

But hey, you knew who Spider-Man was. And you had slept with him. Several times. How many Avengers could say that?

"Look." He points, in his frog-themed overalls and ridiculous cow bucket hat. Smiling widely as you lean in. It was you.

An article from the Daily Bugle framed beside one of Miguel's first spider suits. It was the ugliest iteration of his persona. Bright red and blue, big white eyes. Not fancy like his new technological one.

The article held a photo of a silhouetted stunning figure leaping across rooftops with a bag of cash. 'Can Spider-Man catch this Cat?' One of your first heists ever recorded. And J. Jonah Jameson used the fact that the anonymous Spider-Man couldn't catch you to his advantage. The whole article dragging the man and his skills for about three paragraphs.

"That's a great angle." You turn your head aside to snicker as Wade whistles. His hand on your back as he leans in. "Really adds to the mysterious aura you have."

"I don't think that's actually me." You break his bubble with a chuckle. "I never let people get photos of me on the job."

"Maybe not now, but I know that ass better than my own." He hits his finger on the glass, above the article. "Logan can confirm."

Logan grunts. You hadn't realized he joined the two of you until now. Side eyeing him.

"Was that a yes?" You stand upright. Logan shrugs. Your jaw drops a little, and you want to make fun of him.

Except you don't have time to when Logan reacts faster than a bullet. Scooping you and Wade in his arms and dodging under a less dangerous, less glass filled exhibit when the roof comes caving in. Screaming fills your ears but it's flooded by familiar curses in Spanish.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Thank you for reader! And remember, Logan and Wade think readers who comment and reblog are sexy and deserve a million kisses!

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