Guys Did Wolverine And Deadpool Make Out??? I Need To Know.

guys did wolverine and Deadpool make out??? I need to know.

Chimmy those Changas | One Shot

Deadpool x M!Reader (can be a continuation of deadly indifference)

The two of you found a nearby food truck, the enticing aroma of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. You stood in line, Deadpool tapping his foot impatiently.

“Hurry up, people! I’ve got a captive here,” he called out, earning confused looks from the other customers.

Finally, it was your turn. You both ordered chimichangas and found a nearby bench to sit on while you waited for your food.

Deadpool unwrapped his chimichanga with reverence. He eyed as if it was the Holy Virgin herself. He took a big bite and sighed in contentment. Or maybe he just horny for the food.

“Nothing like a good chimichanga to make a shitty day better.”

You took a bite of yours, the flavors exploding in your mouth. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Deadpool exclaimed, bits of food flying from his mouth. “These are the best chimichangas in the city! Show some respect.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud bang, and the food truck exploded in a ball of fire. You and Deadpool were thrown from the bench, landing hard on the pavement.

“What the hell?” you muttered, trying to catch your breath.

Deadpool jumped to his feet, scanning the area. “Looks like someone’s trying to kill you again. And I don’t like it.”

From the smoke and debris, a group of heavily armed mercenaries emerged, their weapons trained on you and Deadpool.

“Great,” you sighed, picking up your chimichanga and taking another bite. “I just wanted to eat in peace.”

Deadpool drew his katanas, a manic grin on his face. “Guess it’s showtime. Stay close, buddy.”

You rolled your eyes but continued munching on your chimichanga, barely paying attention to the chaos unfolding around you.

Deadpool launched into action, dodging bullets and slicing through the mercenaries with efficiency. Making their bodies squirt blood all over your shoes.

You sat back down on the bench, taking another bite of your chimichanga. Despite the explosions and gunfire, you couldn’t help but appreciate the flavors. “Not bad at all,” you mumbled to yourself.

It kinda sucked that the truck exploded but it is what it is.

One of the mercenaries approached you, weapon raised. You glanced up briefly, sighed, and went back to your food. Deadpool, noticing the danger, threw a knife with pinpoint accuracy, taking the mercenary down before he could get a shot off.

“Jerk,” you said around a mouthful of food, not looking up.

“No problem, sugarplum,” Deadpool called back, his voice cheerful as he disarmed another attacker. He cackled at your disgust for the pet name. “Enjoying your chimichanga?”

“It’s good,” you replied. “Though I can feel the spice crawling up my ass crack.”

Deadpool laughed, slicing through two more mercenaries. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Are your testicles tingling?”

As the fight continued, you found yourself almost enjoying the absurdity of the situation. Despite the chaos around you, you felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the good food or Deadpool’s relentless banter, but for the first time in a while, you weren’t complaining.

A mercenary lunged at you, and Deadpool quickly intervened, dispatching the attacker with a swift move. He then plopped down next to you, breathing heavily but grinning, his mask showing his lower face.

“You know, for someone who’s sucidal as fuck you have been having multiple opportunities in the past… ten minutes.”

You shrugged, taking another bite. “I’ve decided.” Your eyes locking with his.

“I want you to kill me.”

Deadpool chuckled, leaning back on the bench. “Rightttt.” He quickly took a bite of your lunch making you scrunch your face.

“Good luck with that.”

“For real” you admitted. “You’re a dick.”

Deadpool nodded sagely. “A wise man once told me. ‘You are what you eat’.”

You rolled your eyes. “How inspirational.”

As the last of the mercenaries were dealt with, Deadpool stood up, offering you a hand. “Alright, pal, let’s get out of here before more show up.”

You took his hand, finishing the last of your chimichanga. “Lead the way, piss boy.”

“Piss boy?”

“It’s your pet name .”

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Lets Dine With The Fine Batman x gn!Detective!reader

summary: you’ve been invited over for dinner as a thank you from the Wayne family. Things get a little heated between you and Bruce and not in the sexy way.

You couldn’t believe you were here again.

Wayne Manor, for dinner this time. After the chaos at the gala, you’d hoped to avoid another encounter with Gotham’s elite for a good while. But when Bruce Wayne himself extended an invitation, insisting it was to thank you for your “bravery” during the robbery, it was hard to refuse without raising suspicion.

Not like you could refuse either way. It’s Bruce Wayne.

So here you were, standing awkwardly in the grand foyer once more, waiting to be led to the dining room. The suit you wore this time was slightly more comfortable, thanks to a last-minute alteration. Still, the formality of it all made your skin itch. You were a detective, not a socialite.

“Detective [Y/n],” Alfred greeted you warmly as he appeared from one of the side halls. “Mr. Wayne is expecting you. If you’d follow me, please.”

You nodded, mumbling a quick “Thank you,” before following the butler. Your eyes scanned the lavish surroundings—once again, you felt out of place among the wealth and opulence. The smell of polished wood and expensive cologne filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of a gourmet dinner being prepared in the kitchen.

The place was large but you felt comfortable around Alfred.

As you entered the dining room, you were greeted by the sight of Bruce Wayne and his adopted sons already seated around the large, ornate table.

…

Of course dinner was with the kids.

(But it felt intimate)

Was this appropriate? To interrupt their dinner because Bruce invited you. You hoped he didn’t do this often. The atmosphere seemed warm, relaxed even, but there was an undercurrent of something more… alert. The way they watched you, as if assessing, made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Detective,” Bruce said with a smile, rising from his seat to greet you. His handshake was firm, his demeanor as charming as ever. His fingers felt rough.

Not what you expected for a billionaire playboy.

“I’m glad you could join us.”

“Thanks for the invitation, Mr. Wayne,” you replied, doing your best to sound polite.

“Please, call me Bruce.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease as you took the seat offered to you. The boys greeted you with varying levels of enthusiasm—Dick with his usual friendliness, Tim with a polite nod and the smallest of all smiles, Damian with what was perhaps poorly hidden disgust or neutral (you couldn’t tell.) And Jason… with a mischievous grin and a slight wink. It was clear Jason was the most relaxed of the group, a stark contrast to the tense environment you had expected.

Or maybe Dick was.

Either way the boys seemed to be up to something.

Dinner began without much fanfare. The conversation was light, touching on safe topics—Gotham’s latest charitable events, the rebuilding of the areas affected by the gala attack, the state of the city in general.

But you couldn’t keep your mind off the events of that night. The way Nightwing and Red Hood had shown up out of nowhere, the strange behavior of Bruce, and the constant presence of Batman near the Waynes.

Halfway through the meal, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You decided to voice what had been on your mind.

“So,” you started, trying to sound casual as you sliced into your steak, “I noticed something the other night… at the gala.”

Four pairs of eyes, plus Bruce’s, snapped to you.

“Really? What did you notice, Detective?” Bruce asked smoothly, though you didn’t miss the slight tension in his voice.

You leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. “It’s just… does Batman often show up around you guys? I mean, Nightwing was there too, and Red Hood. It seemed like they were… protecting you. Or watching you.”

The boys exchanged glances—ones that were almost imperceptible to anyone not trained to see them. A flash of surprise in Damian’s eyes, a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like panic in Tim’s, Jason avoided eye contact, and Dick’s usually easygoing expression tightening just a bit.

Bruce was the first to recover, letting out a low chuckle. “Batman and his allies? Protecting us? That’s an interesting observation.”

“Interesting, but not far from the truth, Bruce,” you pressed, feeling a sense of urgency to convey what you’d been mulling over since that night. “Think about it—Gotham’s most notorious vigilante, plus his sidekicks, showing up at events you’re attending, then escorting you out like it’s nothing. It’s like they’re keeping tabs on you.”

“It’s creepy, no?”

“You think Batman is keeping tabs on us?” Jason asked, his tone half-amused, half-curious.

“Exactly,” you replied, nodding. “And maybe you all too. I mean, you’ve got to admit it’s strange how he always seems to be around.”

The room fell silent, the boys exchanging more significant glances this time. It was clear they were trying to hold back their reactions. Finally, Bruce broke the silence.

“Detective, Batman’s presence is part of the job,” Bruce said smoothly. “We’ve learned to live with it.”

“You’ve learned to live with it?” you repeated, your frustration rising. “He’s constantly around you. It seems like he’s all over you.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” Bruce said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Gotham needs its protectors.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Look, I care about your health and safety. I’m just trying to make sure you’re aware of the risks. I mean, what if something happens and—”

Bruce cut you off with a raised hand. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got it covered.”

“He could be a stalker.” You snapped harshly before breathing slowly.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing,” you shot back, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. “You’re acting like it’s all just business as usual.”

“Because it is,” Bruce said, his tone firm. “I handle it. I’m used to it.”

“Jerk,” you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms.

The boys exchanged knowing looks. Dick’s lips twitched into a smile, Tim tried to stifle a chuckle, Damian’s eyes held a hint of amusement, and Jason seemed to be barely containing his laughter.

Alfred, who had been standing quietly by the side, cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we focus on enjoying the evening. Detective [Y/n], I assure you, Mr. Wayne is more than capable of handling his affairs.”

You shot Bruce a final frustrated glance. “Fine. But if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bruce’s smile widened slightly. “Understood. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

As Alfred began to clear the plates, you remembered something you’d brought with you. You reached into your jacket and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package.

“Actually, Alfred,” you began, your tone shifting as you slid the box across the table toward him, “I brought something for you.”

Alfred looked at the package with mild surprise. “For me?”

You nodded. “It’s not much, just a little something to say thank you. For everything.”

Alfred’s eyes softened as he unwrapped the box, revealing a set of finely crafted cufflinks. “This is quite exquisite” he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” you insisted, feeling slightly self-conscious under everyone’s gaze. “After all, it’s you who has served me my food, cooked it, and hosted this.”

You gave a side eye. “I assume Mr. Wayne did his part too.”

“I said, call me Bruce.”

“Hmph.”

Alfred’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as he nodded. “I’m deeply touched. Thank you.”

The mood in the room shifted, with the boys exchanging amused glances. Even Damian seemed to crack a slight smile.

God, you weren’t aware that child could make a face like that around you.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Bruce said, his tone warming as he regarded you. “Alfred doesn’t often receive gifts.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, Alfred’s last gift was Damian’s disastrous attempt at breakfast last Christmas.”

“That was one time,” Damian grumbled, glaring at Jason. “And I was eight.”

The playful banter eased the earlier tension, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. The feeling in your belly bloomed quickly, like a fire.

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourself unexpectedly enjoying the company. The Waynes were more than just a wealthy family—they were a quirky, tight-knit group, and it was oddly comforting to be included in their dynamic.

When it was time to leave, Bruce walked you to the door. You decided to speak with him.

“Mr.Way— Bruce. Apologies for uh getting a little heated back there. I’m not the most..” you rubbed your nape shyly. “Social.”

“Detective [Y/n],” he began, his voice sincere, “You are always welcomed. I understand your concern but I ask that you trust in me. but I appreciate you coming. You’ll be back sometime right? Maybe for movie or a game of pool?”

You blinked, taken aback by the admission. “It’s alright, Bruce. I get that you have your own way of doing things. Pool sounds nice.”

Bruce offered you a small, almost apologetic smile before turning to Alfred, who was still holding the box you’d given him.

The bid you farewell as you went into your taxi.

As you stepped out into the cool Gotham night, your thoughts were a calm. The evening had been an unexpected experience but you were satisfied.

Now, you planned on scheduling a meeting with the vigilante himself, Batman.

a/n: if u rlly want I’ll do a part 3. Also it’s late af so sorry if it’s not like KAPOOM or smth. G’noght :3

my mother asked if the reason why Wolverine drank so much was to promote Ryan’s gin. (Even though he never drank it lmao) and I told her no but couldn’t help but imagine and make a shitty ass ad.

yeah sorry.

to all my mutually suddenly receiving asks, I apologize. I have no other way of saying “OMG I WASNNA SAY SMTH” without being dramatic about it.

anyways time to draw old men