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[derelictlovefool]

could you do the hope county folks (whoever you want!) with a gn reader (friends/acquaintances to lovers) who’s really affectionate caring and protective with them but cold distant and indifferent to other people?

This sat in the drafts for a while, I could only manage four before it felt repetitive, but I hope you like them nonetheless!

Sharky is over the moon the first time he notices it, he's never really been super special to anyone before so seeing the distinct way you treat him compared to others makes him all giddy.

At first he's bragging about being your best bud, saying he gets best bud privileges like all your smiles, hugs and fussing over his well being.

He feels like he's won the lottery and he's gonna rub it in everyone's faces for as long as possible.

He may do stupider stunts in front of you because he enjoys it when you dote on him.

He never finds it off-putting when you're being sweet to him one second and cold to others in the next, he thinks of it like a cool superpower.

Over time he starts getting really comfortable with you, he loves spending time with you and joking around with you and all the affection you direct at him always leaves him with a goofy smile.

He figures out he might have more than friends feelings for you after some point.

Of course he doesn't know how to tell you and he figures he can get away with just being your best bud forever, you already treated him special as it was.

But then he starts to notice other people trying to get your attention and he starts wondering about what would happen if he wasn't your sole best bud who you treated so nicely.

And it scared him enough to confess—in his Sharky Boshaw certified way. aka half of a field ended up on fire with your name scorched into the ground and Sharky looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever.

Of course you didn't leave him hanging and Sharky ends up with double bragging rights of being your boyfriend.

Mary May is flattered by it, confused but flattered.

She figured it was because the company at the bar wasn't your cup of tea but after spending time with you outside of the bar she catches on to it being something a bit more.

She doesn't question it, since she doesn't really know how.

It doesn't really bother her, after a while she barely notices your cold attitude towards others since she's just happy to see you.

If anyone asks she just laughs and says she's just the best company around and you liked her best.

She teases you about it a few times but ultimately doesn't make a huge deal about it.

She enjoys spending time with you and having someone be so caring and protective of her for the first time in a while means a lot to her.

She slowly starts giving back the same amount of care and protectiveness, to the point where if people call you cold she'll go to bat for you about it.

She knows how warm and caring you are and she's not listening to any disrespect.

This leads her down a rabbit hole of slowly falling for you, all your alone time and special attention slowly bubbles into something she can't ignore.

So she sets up a cute little date for the both of you and asks you out, ready to accept either answer but being over the moon when you say yes.

After that people know not to whine about your indifference to them in front of her, because she will ban them from the bar and tell them they just need to work on their personalities.

Jerome is a people person, a proud man of community, so admittedly he is utterly bafflee by how little you care for everyone other than seemingly himself.

At first he's perhaps even put off by it, caught in the considerations of what it could mean without taking it at face value.

He's a grown man so he asks you about it eventually and after your simple and casual explanation he comes to accept it.

He's not one to tell others how to feel after all and despite your coldness to others it wasn't as if you were cruel to them, you weren't hurting anyone and he enjoyed your company.

And if he was honest after the beating the years had done to his pride, being so important to someone was almost needed.

Having your sole attention in a crowd of others was nothing like he'd experienced, even during his sermons, and he began to seek it out.

He enjoyed spending time with you alone, talking for hours about your interests and slipping into some debates here and there.

He felt challenged, appreciated and engaged whenever he was with you and it didn't take long to figure out he had feelings for you.

Figuring out how to go forward was a struggle for him, he hadn't considered being in a relationship for a long time but you sparked the want in him again.

After months of dancing around his feelings and trying to search for answers in prayers he invites you over for dinner to gauge your own feelings.

When it's out in the open you both feel the same the only thing left to do is accept it; so he laughs at how stupid he was being and asks you if he can take you on a proper dinner date.

He never truly understands your cold attitude towards people but he easily balances it out with his warmth and other people soon see you as a pair that cannot and should not be separated.

Faith seeing you be cold and indifferent to others the first time was like a dopamine hit, the cogs in her brain turned as a delighted smile spread across her face.

Realising all your affection, sweet smiles and joking words were solely reserved for her, made something in her do backflips.

She was hooked.

In a way she was somewhat similar, her sweetness to others was part of her darling act after all.

And perhaps it was an act towards you at first as well, but after seeing you go from apathetic to beaming upon seeing her she quickly changed her tune.

She reserved the genuine side of her just for you, the good and the bad.

She confided in you, trusted you like no one else and in turn you did the same.

She felt seen again, you made her feel real and like someone worth admiring.

Of course, as all addictions go she became antsy when she couldn't be with you, couldn't have your warmth showering over her.

She realised over the course of your friendship that she couldn't stand the thought of that warmth being directed at someone else.

Of losing you and having your smiles and secret whispers lost to someone who didn't deserve you.

So she confessed her feelings, promised to make every day more blissful then the next if only you stayed with her.

And you never had any intentions of leaving so of course you say yes.

And thus the project members hail you as their angel's brooding lover and protector, someone to be respected and equally admired despite your indifference to them.

[derelictlovefool]

I do like reading ridiculous and silly Wade sometimes! Definitely didn’t mean that in a mean way btw! :)

Just sometimes I’m in the mood for the serious shit ya know? Like uncomfortable and complicated and real human feelings and all that. Bc of his personality in the movies, I feel like there’s not a lot of fics covering more serious topics and more serious overall fics. So I just really appreciate finding a story like that but of course all the love to every single Wade writer out there :)

I totally got you, I just didn't want to sound up myself in my reply and make other writers feel any type of way, you're all good!

And yeah I totally feel that, my main fandom is fc5 so I enjoy real gritty fics that go into the complexity of human emotions and relationships. And I do agree his movie personality has seeped into a lot of his fandom depictions, which isn't a bad thing, but I am in the same boat in how I enjoy the more serious subject matters being explored every now and then! Sometimes you just want to see that merc going through the whole mixed bag of human emotions while trying to make a relationship work around his avalanche of issues.

I really appreciate that you've enjoyed my depiction of him and the story and I do hope other writers venture into more serious Wade stuff since I'd love to see more of it too lol

[derelictlovefool]

I love your deadpool story so so much. It’s so amazingly well written and I love the depth you write him with. So many other stories just make him so ridiculous and stupid and I like that you’re showing that side of him too. Absolutely loving this story!

Thank you so much for your kind words!! 💜💜 I've been a Deadpool fan for a long time, so i'm glad I can do him justice in my writing! I love every version of Wade but the comics that really flesh him out and show the darker and sadder parts of his character are important to me and I wanted to portray that so I'm glad people are really enjoying it!! ☺️

I do also wanna give love to people who write Wade stupid and ridiculous though because that was me when I was a teenager, and we all start somewhere, so I hope they have fun writing him being absolutely insane and they continue to flourish and grow in their writing <33

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇷​​🇪​​🇻​​🇮​​🇻​​🇪​​🇸​​🇨​​🇪​​🇷​​🇪​—⦂❝

— 𝐓𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Notes: Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four! Or do whatever, it's up to you! This was going to be the final part, but you know how it goes :)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, complicated relationships, explicit language, couples counselling

Words: 2.7k

The night had been long, Wade somehow managing to sequester your couch for the night while you curled up in bed. Both of you felt like pure and utter shit, more than once Wade considered crawling into your bed just to hold you again and you fought the stray thoughts of going to join him on the couch. It was frustrating and you tossed and turned until three that morning. You had no intentions of going into work or calling in, luckily for you having your ex be an infamous merc meant they wouldn't fire you over it—they'd met him, they heard about the breakup. If anything they were more likely to file a missing person's report to the police.

Which would actually be annoying so maybe you should call in. You groaned, rolling over and searching for your phone on the nightstand—only to realise those fuckers had taken it. You slapped your hand uselessly against the wood with a whine, face falling back into your pillow as you added up the amount of paychecks it would take to replace it. God dammit. Fuck.

The door to your room squeaked open and you dragged your eyes across the room to spot Wade's baby blue eyes staring back at you, it almost made you jump up—seeing his eyes again. His expression was sullen despite the comical way it poked into your room and you rolled onto your back with a sigh.

"Come in Wade." You waved him in, your arm heavy and sore and you winced, your senses coming back to you enough for you to finally note how all of you was sore. You hadn't taken stock of the scrapes on your body or the rough treatment you'd be given yesterday, they hadn't done much besides tie you to that chair but they'd been anything but gentle getting you there.

Wade skulked in and sat himself on the very end of your bed, strong back to you—still in the suit. Of course. He didn't say anything and neither did you. You didn't know what to say and you figured Wade was in the same boat. Yesterday had been a lot to process. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled, all the tiredness from the month finally caught up to you and you felt like a used rag. You'd been cleaned up at the hospital but you still didn't feel clean.

You felt a weight on your lap and lifted your head, recognition flooded you as the thin rectangle caught your eye. Your phone. You glanced at Wade as his hand retreated, his bare face directed at the adjacent wall as you slowly reached down to grab it. It was dead and more than a little scuffed up, a crack now etched into the top right of the screen leading halfway down to the middle. Great. You fumbled with the charger and plugged it in, hoping it worked. Even if it was a bit more janky from here on out you did not want to spend any cash fixing it or getting a new one. If you were gonna spend your money it'd be on a damn vacation, you more than earned one.

You set the phone down on your bedside table to await the reveal of its fate and flopped back, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. Now back to your relationship issues. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, unsure of where to even begin, you felt stuck and you knew there were only two ways this could go. Both would be tough but in one maybe you both had a chance at being kinda happy again.

"Were you serious about the counselling?" You really did fucking miss him and despite yourself you couldn't see any way to get through this without him. Problematic details be damned, you had a lot of worse issues you could deal with in therapy first. You pulled yourself up and watched the back of Wade's head, the visible tissue and missing skin deforming between the rest of his marred skin. His shoulders rose and fell, the indication of a deep and heavy sigh.

"Yeah, don't blame me if it doesn't do nothin' though."

"The only way it doesn't do anything is if you don't try. Are you willing to try for me or not?" At your question Wade turned, facing you and matching your steely gaze with a sincere one, a deep burning flame in his pale eyes you never usually got to see. It kinda sent chills through you, at how serious he looked.

"I'd burn this entire universe to the ground for you," he paused as he took on your expression, "I can do the counselling," His tone smoothed into something genuine, easing up as he leant back. You didn't know what to say at first, your heart was trudging through a dance it usually did so smoothly and you were aching all over. This was a start.

"Now if they start talkin' about us separating for good, I might have a bullet with their name on it—"

"Wade." He could never let the air still for a moment, could he? You cut him off and he smiled, it was an almost easy smile—almost relaxed. He held his hands up in surrender and you bit down your own crooked smile. It felt so similar to how you used to be, just with an overcast of what had happened. An undercurrent of that pain that would be there for a while. But maybe you could get used to it and eventually it'd fade away. You could only hope.

"So uh, does this mean I can move back in?" Wade broke the silence again as he picked at some imaginary lint on your bed, flicking it away as you shook your head. You tried not to give in at the kicked-puppy look that etched into his face when you did.

"Not yet." You murmured, trying to soften the blow. It wasn't forever, just for now, just until you two really sorted this shit out properly. Maturely, if you were capable.

"Okay, but can you tell Al because man has she not been happy to have me back." He leant back and it was almost like you felt him putting back up the wall of comedy to save himself from drowning in—all of this. You wished you could do that as easily as he did, but you were still clawing at the surface with water in your lungs. You did find it within you to chuckle though, the thought of Al having to deal with him crashing in her apartment again was pretty funny. Not for her, Wade was a terrible roommate—before you set up some big boundaries and house rules anyway. And that apparently never worked for her.

"Maybe that's because you replace her sugar with salt and other dumb shit." You mused, pulling an extra pillow behind you so you could prop yourself up and lean back.

"She crushed laxatives into my mayonnaise, it's a free for all in there—she's not as innocent as you think." He wagged his finger at you and you actually laughed, a real laugh. You knew Al wasn't innocent, she was in her seventy's for fuck sake. She was also a riot, you'd seen her beef with Wade and the shit they got up to and it was a great show from the sidelines. Until they dragged you into it, then shit truly became a free for all. Wade didn't follow up to keep making you laugh like he usually did, he stayed quiet and watched you with a kind of smile that twisted your stomach into knots. It was so gentle, as if he was just enjoying taking you all in.

It was maybe too much for you right now.

You covered your mouth and glanced at your phone, seeing the two percent enough for you to pick it up and turn it on. You would deny it being a distraction, you had a good reason.

"I should call my boss so they don't sick a welfare check on me."

"Right. You do that, I'll get breakfast."

"You—Wade I don't—" You struggled, split down the middle with what you wanted and what you were ready for. Having breakfast with Wade would feel like you were just pushing everything under the rug and like you'd said the night before that is not what you wanted. Wade paused and nodded slowly, reading between the lines, your choppy protest and your eyes.

"Good point, I already promised Al waffles so I should get on that." He turned his back on you again and you felt your chest tighten, his tone deflating with each word. He stepped halfway out your door and stopped, turning to face the wall and visions of the night he came to see you dusted over your eyelids.

"Call me, for the uh, counselling thing." He sounded so awkward even talking about it and you could tell this was going to be hard for him. It was going to be hard for you too, that was the whole point. You both had to walk through the well of garbage before you got anywhere close to getting out of the sewers—and as long as he was willing to walk with you, you'd give it your all to make it out the other side.

"I will Wade, see you."

"See you."

When he disappeared from view you listened to his heavy, thudding footsteps and felt your heart matching his pace. It followed him out the front door, catching on the hinges at it shut. You deflated against your pillows, emotionally exhausted as you stared down at your contacts. Your thumb felt like lead as it hit your boss' number and your voice felt flat when they picked up and you gave them a very vague rundown of why you wouldn't be in. To your surprise they gave you a few days off and once you'd hung up you had nothing to do but lay back down and get some more sleep. You could worry about everything else later.

Six months later in fact; you found yourself walking out of your couple counsellors office.

Wade was hot on your heels, his hands stuffed into his sweatpants as he once again fell into step as your faithful shadow. He had a black mask covering the bottom of his face, cap pulled down far enough to hide the top half, and hood pulled over his head to guard the back. It was a whole other mask, the mask of Wade Wilson, and it was one you were getting well acquainted with. Your first session had been fucking awful, Wade did not cope with being counselled—not that either of you expected him to in the first place. He almost made it to the end of the hour before storming out after the counsellor asked some touchy question he felt was stepping over the line.

It wasn't great, but you'd chosen to let it go. It was the first session, and you were equally as uncomfortable answering many of the questions and hypotheticals they posed to you. The second session was a bit easier, the counsellor backing off the topic that had set Wade off and manoeuvring to another part of your relationship you could work on first. The mask. There was a lot of mumbo jumbo and therapy speak about how it was not only keeping him hidden from the world but keeping a wedge between the both of you and yada yada. You'd never considered it that way, it had always just been a part of him—but Wade had taken it to heart so maybe it had some truth to it.

The few times he was at your apartment after that he started taking the mask off, then the whole suit. You'd see him partly naked in the past, of course, but there was always some piece of Deadpool still clinging onto him. The mask, the boots, the gloves—he was never fully exposed. But that had changed. You were nowhere near having sex again, you still had barely touched aside from brushes of the hand and legs bumping into each other on the couch. But your counsellor had suggested small acts of intimacy, focusing on the emotional connection with nothing sexual to any of it. Wade had fussed about it and you hadn't been sure if it was another defence or if he genuinely had never considered non-sexual intimacy but you hadn't dwelled on it.

For your sanity and the hope of your relationship, you needed to let a lot of things go.

All of this led you to a few nights ago where you'd invited Wade to shower, no innuendoes, no wandering hands on his part—just a shower to get clean and be close. Your heart had been thudding in your ears when you asked, and the way he'd stared at you had made you want to take it back, but he agreed just before you did. And you were glad he did. It was the first time there had been nothing between you, just bare skin and steam from the shower. He was beautiful, all of him, all the jagged scars and bumps and divots—the contours of his muscles and shape of his jaw and width of his hands—okay so he'd touched you once. Just his hands on your biceps as you gently lathered him in soap suds, you hated that they'd been shaking and that you had tears in your eyes as your fingertips traced over his torso.

You thought you and Wade had been close before, you were inseperable and always touching—but that shower had been something else and it had taken everything in you not to kiss him and tell him you loved him a million times over. Afterwards you'd actually almost cuddled on the bed, side by side on the bed and holding hands. Wade had not said a single word through the whole thing and you had been dying to know what he was thinking.

You were hoping he would have said in today's session but he had been unusually quiet, letting you do a majority of the talking. When asked why he just looked at you, and what he'd said still had your insides fluttering incessantly.

"I don't know how I thought I could live without you, you are my whole fuckin' world. We can keep doing this," He had gestured to the counsellor without taking his eyes off of you, "but I'm gonna be stuck to your shoe like a mouldy piece of gum until the universe goes lights out or they figure out a way to kill me. As long as you don't give up on me—even if you do." He had grabbed your hand with such a strange mixture of gentleness and roughness, a perfect mix of him, tense as he held it to his chest so you could feel the thudding of his heart.

"I'm yours, no matter what or who happens, I'll always drag what's left of me back to you."

The elevator binged, pulling you back into the present and you stepped into the elevator with your heart in your throat. Wade had never spoken like that, never used that tone before—even in those moments where he was serious and genuine. This had been a whole other level of raw and real and it had shaken you off balance. The months and the counselling had been slowly putting back the pieces, scrubbing away at that anger and pain that was slowly becoming an unnoticeable simmer in the very back of your head.

Wade had been doing what you wanted; he'd changed. Made the effort to do better for you, for both of you. Fuck, he was even taking less jobs, he'd been dropping by your apartment and work every other day and everything was almost easing back into something akin to comfortable again. It was almost like the old days but so much better, no slamming doors and words muttered under your breath that you couldn't say to each other's faces. Your eyes could finally meet and your words could come out gentle and understanding, sometimes still rough around the edges but never enough to tear down the progress. Never enough to send that wall back up.

Things were better and now all that was standing in the way—was you.

End notes: Next one should be the final part just to wrap things up and get that much needed happy ending! See you then!!

[derelictlovefool]

gn!reader/deputy and eli get stuck in a bunker or cabin together and gasp there's only one bed!

seriously tho I love your writing and thank you for writing for Eli there's not enough fics with him 💚💚💚

Title: No One I Trust More

Notes: This is truly the only trope ever <3 Thank you for the kind words, this was a treat to write! I love writing for Eli, blessed golden-hearted mountain man with a tragic storyline <333

Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, bear encounter

Words: 4k

Bullets whiz through the air like miniature torpedoes, the tiny metal pellets digging into the bark of trees and the hard soil of the earth. You follow Eli through the mass of trees and foliage, your heart beat pounding in your eardrums and adrenaline coursing through your veins and making everything seem too slow and too fast all at once. Eli ducks behind a tree and you copy his movements, ducking behind the tree opposite of him. You hold your gun in your hand, taking a second to recollect yourself as Eli offers a small amount of cover fire with his arrows raining down on the peggies like hellfire.

You heard the drop of at least two bodies in the onslaught and quickly swivel on your heel, pressing your shoulder into the hard bark to steady yourself as you aimed at the incoming threats. You fire off four rounds and three bodies drop, you duck behind the tree in sync with Eli and you both look at each other with approving nods as you suck in deep breaths.

"We can't keep running all night Eli, we gotta lose 'em." You say with urgency, checking your clip and counting your bullets. You only had one spare clip left and it would not last another round of a firefight—You also noted Eli's dwindling supply of arrows. He cursed and hit his head against the tree he was behind, knowing Wheaty wouldn't be able to find you both if you kept moving. The distress call you'd made twenty minutes ago was about a few miles south of where you were now and you were nowhere near the Wolf's Den. You were a little bit screwed but oddly with Eli here you didn't feel too helpless about the situation.

You were a good team. You'd made it outta worse.

"Okay," he breathes out harshly, "there's a bunker stashed west of here if we're where I think we are. C'mon." Eli nods to the right and goes low to the ground, taking advantage of the tall grass as he crouches. You follow suit after firing two warning shots at the hidden peggies, the sound of metal hitting bark following after you.

You follow Eli through the tall grass, sneaking to one patch of foliage and another, slowly making your way down hill. You watch his back and make sure to keep close behind him, your feet are aching and you're desperate to get to this bunker, a moment of reprieve would be heaven. Eli holds a hand up and you halt instinctively, ducking further toward the ground and watching his hand like a hawk. You listen as rushing footsteps go over the hill you were just on and a shuffling goes a mere foot in front of you.

Brown fur peeks over the grass and you can't believe how unlucky you both have been today, first stumbling upon a small peggie camp and getting spotted immediately and now running into an adult brown bear.

Your hand reflexively reaches out to rest on Eli's shoulder, as a way to reassure as well as making it possible for you to pull him back if necessary. The bear pauses ahead of you, turning its large head and huffing out a deep breath as its big brown eyes survey its surroundings. Your heart hammers in your chest but you're grateful to hear the footsteps from the hill have fallen away. Eli leans back into your hand, lowering his own slowly as the bear begins to move in the direction you both had just come from. It makes a throaty noise and you feel your nerves fray at the way the ground shakes with its heavy steps. At least that would keep the peggie's busy if they felt like coming back around this way.

Your head falls forward, leaning on Eli's backpack as you exhale as quietly as possible. He exhales as well, his shoulders sinking as the bear continues on its way.

"Fuck this day man." You almost laugh but you're too tired to muster it, Eli manages a chuckle in response however.

"I second that."

You both continue on slowly, feeling your heart beat skip at every noise and too harsh a breeze. You run out of tall grass and make a run for the bunker Eli was leading you too. He stops beside some foliage and digs his hands under the piles of dead leaves, grass and twigs. A metal mechanism is muffled under the mass and he grunts as he tries to pull it upward.

"Gimme a hand here dep." He asks and you oblige, digging your hands under as well and clumsily finding his holding a large circular handle. You adjust so you're holding it and begin tugging alongside him, the grass rips away and dirt falls as you manage to bring it up. You both stiffen at the sound of running and shouts, far too close for comfort. Eli stops when the hatch is open enough for you to duck past him and get situated on the ladder. You slide down the ladder quickly and move out of the way for Eli. As he makes his way inside he pulls the circular door shut, almost falling but catching himself and making his way down the ladder at a more cautious pace.

You walk further into the bunker, it was dark and damp, the first small section full of shelves of canned food and water bottles by the dozen. The second room had a single bed and a desk pressed up against the opposite wall; a radio and map were on the desk with what looked like a conspiracy theory wall meticulously pinned up above it. Further on it looked like it dipped into another storage area and possible bathroom, a small bunker compared to some you'd seen already but it would do until the coast was clear.

Eli walks past you, on guard as he checks under the bed and then stalks towards the end room, aimed to maim at any sign of threat or unwanted company. You ease your gun into its holster and sit on the bed, needing to rest your legs and your lungs.

"Coast is clear…" Eli mutters as he walks back into the main room, stopping by the desk to fiddle with the radio. It was working, surprisingly, and he quickly put it on the Wolf's Den channel. The first thing you heard was Wheaty, his voice listing off the coordinates you and Eli had given him thirty minutes prior and affirming you both were in fact, not there. Eli would have just grabbed his good ole handheld radio to get in touch with him but he'd lost it during a struggle with a particularly unruly peggie. Seriously, shit luck today.

"I reckon we hole here a half hour before headin' back to the Den." Eli sighs, turning and crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the desk. His usually messy hair was absolutely mangled and clung to the sweat on his forehead, leaving him looking even more haggard than usual. You were sure you looked similar, if the grime on your arms and clothes had anything to say about it. You nod and swivel around, falling back onto the bed and letting out a groan as your body protests to being straightened out. It felt like heaven though, finally getting the weight of your feet and knees and just laying completely still.

You glance at Eli who averts his eyes to the roof a little too quickly, you roll your eyes and scooch over on the bed. It wasn't big but it could fit you both, it'd be snug but hey, you wouldn't complain.

"Get over here Eli." You slap the bed beside you. Eli clears his throat and looks like he's about to move but decides to stay put.

"I can just, uh, sit over here, s'fine."

"Eli, we're not twelve. Get on the bed man." You snort and Eli pauses before laughing gently. He rubs the back of his neck as he walks over, sitting on the edge of the bed gently before falling onto his back beside you. You're both shoulder to shoulder and you fall into a comfortable silence as the seconds ticked by. You notice Eli shift ever so slightly now and then but choose to be nice and not tease him about it, he always got a bit flustered when the two of you were alone and in close proximity for a long time. It was cute.

You exhale, closing your eyes and soaking in the absolute quiet of the bunker, only the subtle electrical buzz rang through the air.

You couldn't put into words how moments like these were near sacred, the calm and quiet was near extinct in your life and you savoured every second of it. Especially with Eli, despite the circumstances of your meeting you'd had plenty of serene moments with him, he gave you a chance to breathe in a place where it felt as if all the air was being stolen away. You appreciated having him in your life and every day you hoped you'd both make it to the other side of this thing; maybe if you did you'd have time to test the waters of your relationship. Maybe follow the spark that ignited everytime you two looked at each other for a tad too long or your hands lingered a few seconds longer than they should.

"I'm sorry about this dep."

Eli's voice is quiet and you turn your head to look at him, brows furrowing as he stares long and hard at the ceiling.

"What're you talkin' about?" You mumble, perplexed by the sudden apology.

"For getting you into this mess, feels like I keep dragging you into shit when you're already doin' all you can for the County and I just– I'm sorry." Eli cleared his throat and shook his head, flexing his hands over his stomach as he breathed through his nose. You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head and pushing yourself up onto your elbow.

"Eli Palmer, you have not once dragged me into something I haven't been ready for. Neither of us signed up for this shit but we're doin' what we can and I prefer doin' it with you than on my own. I'll follow you to hell and back until I take a bullet between the eyes or the Seeds put me down, you got that?" You say sternly, not letting Eli drop his gaze.

"I won't let them put you down dep." Eli responds just as quickly and earnestly.

"Yeah well, you watch my ass and I'll watch yours. No one else I trust more honestly." You smile, patting his chest before shifting back down, now laying on your side with your hands tucked against your chest; hovering just an inch away from Eli's bicep.

"Really?" He seems surprised by your wording, you'd done everything in your power to keep yourself guarded, even from the rest of the resistance. Trust wasn't something you gave easily, Eli had figured that out pretty early on. He would like to say he was the same but he still found himself a tad trusting when faced with someone he thought had a good heart. He had some hope in humanity left in him that you struggled to have on a good day—of which there weren't many nowadays.

"Eli, you are the only reason I've made it this far. You've saved my ass plenty so, yeah, really." You affirm.

Eli's mouth falls open, as if to say something more but he closes it as his gaze flutters down your face. He nods, swallowing hard and turning his gaze back to the ceiling. Time ticks by with the two of you laying in the peaceful silence, your bodies melting into the bed and your weary muscles relaxing after hours of being tense and straining. You can't remember the last time you took a nap, you'd snuck in small sleeps where you could but you wouldn't consider them a nap. Right now you could almost say you felt safe, enough to close your eyes and drift off for just a bit.

And you did, all but cuddled up to Eli's side.

Eli felt frozen, his body stiff as he counted down the seconds. Your head was resting on his shoulder, one of your hands lazily tossed over his forearm and foot tucked under his ankle. He wouldn't dare move a muscle, he didn't want to even think about waking you, you of all people deserve a rest and the idea that he could guard you while you took it had a warmth spreading through his chest.

It was obvious to everyone that Eli was sweet on you, ever since he and Wheaty found you and brought you back to the Wolf's Den. There was something about the way you carried yourself, the way you looked at him—talked to him. It didn't take long for him to be constantly checking up on you and worrying about you non-stop. It had even gotten to the point Tammy had snapped at him about acting like a lovesick schoolboy while there were people out getting killed.

It was a solemn reminder whatever was going on between you two was not something he could really focus on—as much as he wanted to anyway. He'd love to finally have a damn shower, show you he cleans up nice and take you to whatever restaurant or fast food joint you want to go to. He wanted this madness to be over so he could enjoy more moments like this, you curled up by his side sleeping soundly. He wanted you to be safe. He wanted you both to be safe, together if you wanted that too.

Today had just driven that into his head more, every bullet that grazed your skin, every knife narrowly dodged was another moment Eli felt sick to his stomach—he couldn't even fathom what he'd do if you got seriously hurt. Like, down for the count, probably not gettin' back up, type of deal. It wasn't an option he could fathom, you were the deputy, nothin' had stopped you yet. He dares to tilt his head, just to be able to look at you. Admire the way your eyelashes fan over your skin, the way your mouth was squished by your cheek thanks to the contact with his shoulder. You looked so human and so damn breathtaking.

Another bold move—he reaches up to trace his fingers along your forehead, lightly across your cheek. Aside from the grime and dried blood, your skin was soft and Eli allowed a stray thought of what you'd look like cleaned up for a date. You'd probably look too damn-good and he'd trip over himself like an idiot, he wouldn't be surprised. You'd had a way of making him act like a kid around their first crush, a side of himself he hadn't seen in a long time.

He wondered if it was bad luck that timing had made you both meet in the middle of a cult takeover or a weird twist of fate that'd have a happy ending. With the Seeds behind bars, Hope County freed and you two welcome to do whatever the hell you damn well pleased. Eli smiled, he wanted to be there the moment you let all of this weight off your shoulders—to finally see what you looked like when you weren't being Hope County's personal Atlas. Probably something just like this, soft and serene. He didn't know how he'd end up by the end of all of this but if he had you around he wasn't too scared, whatever pieces of him were left on the ground he could tape back together again—with you standing by him, he could do just about anything.

The radio spurts to life a few more times while you're asleep, snippets of Wheaty's worried voice and Tammy's harsher scolding telling you two to get your asses back to the Den if you're not dead. It's only after the half hour is well and truly gone by that Eli shakes your shoulder gently, freezing as you grumble in your sleep and shuffle closer. Your arm skirts over his belly before clutching onto his waist, your head smoothly gliding down to his chest; right over his racing heart.

"You awake dep?" He asks, unsure of the answer and if he would prefer if you were still asleep or not. If you were asleep and cuddling up to him he could say it was nothing but if you were awake… How was he supposed to ignore it? While friends could absolutely cuddle and share a bed, the circumstances had you both dangling over the edge of 'more-than-friendly'—to the point where you cuddling up to him like this could be what gets him to admit a thing or two. To himself and to you.

But after a beat of silence he notes, with disappointment, that you were, in fact, still asleep.

Maybe it was for the best.

"We gotta get goin'," He shakes your shoulder more firmly, needing an out now that he realises how fast he was ready to throw aside focusing on the matters at hand at just the mere thought of you doing something with a smidge of a hint that you reciprocate his feelings. You groan in protest and burrow further into his side, and Eli can't help but laugh, he had never seen you woken up before and he had not expected you to be like this. He wasn't a fan of getting up after a good nap either, but you were both needed elsewhere and any more time here was the possibility of more lives lost.

"C'mon dep." He cooes, and you finally stir back to consciousness, looking up at him blurring with a squinted gaze and unhappy frown. He sees your eyes refocus, sees you realise what you're doing, and is almost gleeful when you drop your head back to his chest with a grunt.

"Five more minutes, you're comfy."

He throws his head back with another laugh, if only to cover the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat within his ribs. He wondered if you could hear it—feel it.

"Thanks for letting me catch a few winks, haven't slept next to someone in… I don't even know how long." You murmur quietly, and Eli nods, unconsciously lifting a hand to hold your shoulder as he stares at the ceiling. He could soak up just a few more minutes, a few more minutes in an embrace with you that was too good to be real. That thought makes him want to roll his eyes at himself, he was losing it over cuddling. Damn, what did you do to him? And did you know you were doing it?

"You didn't get any sleep, did'ja?" You turn, resting your chin on his peck as you look up at him, and Eli feels himself fall short of breath. Your eyes are half lidded from drowsiness, mouth set in an inquisitive pout, and it's just all too much for him. He sits up, taking you with him—and maybe that was a worse idea since your horse ends up strewn over his lap. You grumble as you push yourself up, hands on his thighs and sending all sorts of shockwaves through him.

"I—Uh—Nah. Someone had to keep watch, just in case…"

"Well, thanks for looking after me then, I'll spot your next nep to make it even." You offer a tiny grin, and the magnetism of it is all too much for Eli. You're too close, the proximity making your usual charm hit him full force and drag him under its waves with no mercy. He's leaning into you despite himself, one hand resting over yours as you watch with an unreadable glint in your eye.

This was ridiculous.

"Awe to hell with it, dep, I gotta tell you," he sucked in a deep breath, ducking his head down and squeezing his eyes shut, "I know we ain't really got time for this type of thing and it's fuckin' stupid of me—"

"I like you too, Eli."

Your voice cuts off his soon to be long-winded ramble and he flings his head up so fast that he gets an ache in his neck. You smile softly back at him, and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he takes you in—you were being serious. One hundred percent genuine. He almost couldn't believe it, despite the flirting here and there he never could have guessed, or maybe he just didn't want to get his hopes up.

"Huh? Wh–You do?"

"I was waiting for you to say something, I didn't wanna make shit more complicated for you if you weren't up for it." You shrug, as if it's the most casual thing in the world and he can't help but reach out to grab hold of your shoulders. He didn't want you to slip away, for him to blink and have this just be a dream. You felt the same way, and you had for a while. God how long? How long had he been missing out on whatever it is you two could have had already?

"I think given the circumstances you are the least complicated thing I got in my life right now." He grins and you snort.

"I'll take that as a compliment but watch yourself." You waggle a finger at him with your own grin and if he were standing he would have gone weak at the knees. Everything you did was mesmerising and he was down for the count here. You had him wrapped right around your pinky finger and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"So.. Shit what now?" He laughs and you join in, shaking your head at how ridiculous this is.

"I don't know, I've been wanting to kiss you for six months, how about we start there?" You suggest, one hand resting over his heart as your eyes flicker to his lips. All the air escaped him at your words and he felt starstruck at just the idea of kissing you. He nods, owlishly glancing from your eyes to your mouth as his mind goes blank. He can't remember the last time he kissed somebody and he had a feeling he wouldn't remember at all after kissing you. And he was right.

You make the first move, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, he's stiff at first—in fear of fucking up. But then he relaxes and his lips move against yours smoothly, sharing a kiss that's been building up like a wildfire. And it ignites like one too, soft and curious pecks turning into passionate, long kisses with maybe a bit too much tongue on his part; he was drunk on just the taste of you and you didn't seem to mind one bit. This was more than he thought he'd ever get to share with you, lips and teeth and tongues—a small frenzy full of the feelings you'd both kept hidden for months. It was more than enough, all he needed to get back into the fight and make sure you both got outta this damn thing alive.

"I'm gonna take you on a date," He breathes once you both back off for air; foreheads pressed together and hot breath mingling between you both. You laugh and grab his jaw, fingers running through his hair and pulling him in for another burst of short kisses.

"Where you gonna take me?" You ask, a smile brighter than any you'd graced him with before shining in the small bunker like the sun. Blinding and warm.

"Anywhere you wanna go, anything you wanna do. We'll have dinner, watch a movie, cuddle up on a couch. You smiled as he rattled on breathlessly, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of finally being able to be totally honest with you.

The radio crackles. You both look at each other, clinging to the other's body and not wanting the happy moment to end. You sigh first, letting your head to his shoulder and hand fall to his neck.

"After this is all over, I think I'd really like that Eli." His name dances off your tongue and it just melts Eli even more. He kisses your hair and wraps his arms around you, you'd head out in a minute and face the wrath and worry of your friends when you got back to the Wolf's Den but for right now—right now you soaked in the happy ideas for the future. Your future.

[derelictlovefool]

I didn't realise there was a 100 links limit on posts, time to make a 2nd masterlist I guess lol

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​🇪​​🇽​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​��🇺​​🇲​-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧.

Notes: Miniseries my ass—Don't forget to read Part One, Two and Three! Are you ready for Wade POV :) Typical Meta and fourth wall breaking ahead. Wade gets his action sequence and reader gets some mild trauma but they're cool about it.

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, decapitation, blood and gore, unhealthy relationships, angst, explicit language, hospital mention

Words: 4k

Wade was like a gargoyle, the personal gargoyle of your shitty little apartment elevator. Stone still in the back with his arms crossed and head down—no one else daring to step into the cramped space with him anytime the doors opened. He'd been in there for the better half of the afternoon, going up and down the floors at the will of others button presses but not working up the guts to step onto your floor. Part of him hoped the doors would open and you'd be standing there, make the decision for him and pull him out of it or step in with him so you could both ride the hellevator of your relationship problems together.

The problems that he wasn't stupid enough to ignore were all his fault.

He was pissed, pissed at himself, pissed at the fuckers who got him into this mess and most of all pissed at the author for putting you two together and giving him a chance to fall so fuckin' badly in love with you. These guys never gave him a break in the love department and if he ever got his hands on them he'd shove their keyboards and pens right up their asses—It was the plot's fault that it hinged on the breakup trope, he and you the unwilling puppets strung along to amuse and entice whoever clicked on the title in their fanfic scroll.

The doors to the elevator opened and your building's security guard, Rich, stared back at him, nervous and tired as all hell. Any other day Wade would have been happy to see him. But right now he wanted to decapitate anyone who didn't have your simmering eyes, he just wanted to see you.

"Heya Wade, uh, people have been callin' the office about a thug in the elevator. Think you could uh," He gestured to the front door of the building and Wade would have tossed him out of it himself had he not soon followed up. with the fact you weren't even home. He froze, hand slapping on the closing doors and shoving them open as he barged out of the elevator.

"Where the fuck are they then?" He snapped, a sudden fear and fury overtaking him as he gripped the guard's uniform tightly. The one time he offered you some privacy and didn't follow you home of course something fucking happened, it was just his damn rotten luck. Rich trembled under his masked gaze and tried to lean back as far as humanly possible.

"I-I have no idea! Didn't come home last night, just assumed they were with you!" He yelped as Wade tossed him to the side, storming out of the building with homicidal intent rolling off of him in waves. A kidnap plot—his favourite. Note the sarcasm. He fumed as he hopped into the car he'd parked on the curb, not his, he didn't own one—he was borrowing this one. Indefinitely. He sped off, at first he was too blindsided by his anger to know where he was going but as it began to simmer realisation bit into the back of his skull like a sneaky bullet.

The fuckwads from the gig. The ones that said if he didn't behave like a good doggy they'd pop a cap in your pretty skull—He should have taken the risk and taken 'em all out Keanu style when he had the chance. But he got preoccupied by, well, you, and trying to get you as far away from him as possible. He was scared, plain and simple. Out of everyone he couldn't watch you get hurt because of him—ironic as he hurt you all the same. Maybe even worse.

After a hasty u-turn and aggressive tapping of coordinates into the shitty GPS Wade put his foot on the gas; his grip on the wheel tight enough to bend the metal beneath the silicone protection. All of this, all of the pain, the nights alone and the nights watching you cry while watching your comfort movies—all of it for nothing! The same song and dance he'd been avoiding was playing out all the same. He scowled, cursed the hostage-for macguffin-trope and promised himself he would not sit through any monologues or negotiations. He was getting you out of whatever crusty basement they had you in and taking you home and then when he had you back; he wasn't letting go.

You could hate him, throw things at him, the whole lot; but he wasn't leaving your side ever again.

He couldn't handle it even when it was self inflicted, fuck whatever your therapist said about it. Fuck whatever anyone else said about it. He needed you, more than he needed oxygen—and back in the day people called that romantic, not unhealthy or concerning.

A wire fence gave way as Wade swerved into the shady, abandoned apartment complex lot. The car sputtered in defiance as he drifted to a stop in front of the building. They knew he was coming, if they didn't they were idiots. He jumped out, heading to the front door, he wasn't going to give them a dime or a batted eyelash but he didn't have time to sneak in the back. He needed to see you were okay and if there was even a hair out of place every mother fucker in this building was going lights out for good.

The doors creaked open, his heavy steps reverberated off the walls and the prior chatter died into bated breaths. When he rounded the corner into a large open room his sights zeroed in on you immediately, tied to a chair and eyes burning with fury and panic. Blood dripped from your lips and anger flared within him before he noticed the guy beside you on the floor clutching the bloody place where his ear used to be. Oh shit. Said ear stared back at him from the puddle on the floor by your feet and he had to admit, he was impressed and dare he say, a little hard.

He wished he could've seen that.

Fuck you were awesome.

"Are you waiting for something?" You asked him, voice strained as you ignored everyone else in the room; eyes solely on Wade. You had no doubts he was getting you out of here and that made his chest swell with some emotion he couldn't quite place. Pride? Love? All of the above?

He titled his head up, noting the faded tune of 'Hit the Road Jack' coming from another room. Oh good, a backing track. He tapped his foot and nodded along for a moment as he lifted his hands, guns were on him—and you, and he chuckled. A low and dark rumble that left the room feeling colder than when he walked in. These chucklefucks had no idea how bad of an idea that was. But they would find out.

"Alrighty sluggers, you ready to dance like monkeys while I take you down in nasty ways for the author's lil action sequence?" Confused looks were shot his way and quickly dismissed as he grabbed his guns in a smooth motion. Shooting two of the guys closest to you, the bullets whizzing through the air and nailing them both in the same eye. Blood and viscera smattered the wall as their bodies went down and you winced as some of it got on you. Whoops.

"Sorry babe." He sang, receiving an unimpressed and somewhat disturbed glare from you. Yeah okay, not funny, he got it.

Wade moved on to the guys nearest to him, neither fast enough to dodge and one got a nice fat bullet to the lower jaw; ripping through skin and cracking through bone as it cut through him like a hot knife. His body fell into the guy behind him who shrugged him off with terror in his eyes. Wade loved it when they got all squirmy, made him all tingly and warm inside. It was fun—for him, anyway. The other guy got a lovely little bullet to the nose, the cartilage shattered and the middle of his face bloomed like a red rose, his body flying back until he landed on the floor looking like a Francisco Goya painting.

What was Wade if not an artist and his weapon's his tools?

Shots began to fire, none from his gun and Wade got started on the left side of the room, swerving past a baseball bat before kicking it into the air and smacking the butt of his gun into the guy's nose. Blood squirted all over the front of Wade and he didn't flinch, sheathing one gun to catch the bat and toss it across the room at one of the guys taking shots at him. It hit him square in the face, breaking his shades and it knocked him back far enough that he tripped over a chair. Wade turned back in time to knock away a punch from the guy now bleeding profusely from his bruising nose.

"You look like you just watched a naughty anime buddy, you should really be careful because the guys upstairs can see everything in your search history," He grinned at the utter despair and confusion on the other man's face, taking even greater pleasure in headbutting him and kicking him back into three of his buddies.

Two other guys ran at his side and he dodged and weaved, shooting one in the kneecap and pulling out one of his swords; decapitating the other guy in a swift motion. As his head rolled off of his body, blood and bone and muscle spilled over the floor and Wade shot the screaming man in front of him in the head. Brain matter coating his boots much to his chagrin, he pulled a face no one could see and tried to shake the shit off of him.

"Nameless bad guy number five got his brain goo all over my boot, gross."

"Wade!" Your voice cut through the pandemonium, followed by a cacophony of gunshots and Wade felt his body ripped open at multiple points. It hurt, it always did, feeling the shrapnel dig into his muscles and the bullet skid past his bones. The ones that hit his fun zone were always the worst and he made a show of bending over and groaning unhappily. His one good feature just got turned into swiss cheese. Again.

He looked up at you, making sure the fire show was reserved solely for him and there was something about the worry in your eyes that stirred something within him. You still cared, even if he wouldn't die you cared that he was getting hurt. That was something. More than enough.

He pushed himself back into action, sword swinging and cutting a guys arm off, gun lifting and blowing a guy's junk into oblivion—the howl of agony a nice backing track to the slowly fading in 'If I could Turn Back Time' by queen Cher herself. Maybe this was it, the big show that he was willing to go through hell to get back to you. Once he'd finished off these guys and untied you, you'd throw your arms around him and he'd get to whisk you off into the sunset. He smiled as he kebabified mister one arm and mister no junk in one go, their bodies tossed to the ground by inertia as he slid his sword back. He spun across the bloody pool of a floor, right into the path of a knife that twisted into his abdomen painfully—but he was too lost to his daydream to give a fuck.

He tucked his gun under the guys chin and blasted his brains out with a boyish glee, sheathing that gun as well to rip the knife out of his gut and toss it into the head of the guy who had the gall to leave the fight and start running toward you. It landed in his temple, slotting in like a perfect tetris piece and his body fell by your feet. You flinched and closed your eyes, rearing Wade back into reality somewhat. Now wasn't time to be playing, you absolutely weren't having fun so neither could he. Double time.

The last two guys went down with fierce efficiency and Wade cleaned off his sword in the crook of his elbow, sliding it back into its place as he rounded the back of your chair.

"Are you—"

"Just get me the fuck out of here Wade." Your words were sharp even though they were quiet—shaky. Wade shut his mouth with a clack of teeth. His jaw tensed as he cut the ropes on your wrists with his tactical knife and freed you from the chair. You didn't jump into his arms, more like fell limply against his chest in exhaustion as he picked you up. He could see scuffs on your skin, dried blood and scratches that made his blood boil. He'd come back and do some unspeakable performance art with these bozos corpses later, if only to make himself feel better for not being there to stop them getting you in the first place.

Having you back in his arms cemented a few things to him, cradling you to his chest and feeling the rise and fall of your own reminded him of so many nights where you were fast asleep next to him trusting your life in his hands. Something not one other person ever did, which was wise, really. But having your arm over his shoulder and knowing how you'd been so sure of him saving you; he needed that. In the world of people that saw him as a failure of a human being who was only good at killing and nothing else he needed you, who had always seen him as something more. Something that could be good, even when he did everything to prove you wrong.

He took you to the hospital despite your protests and stayed by you as they checked you over and patched you up, he threatened each and every one and you scowled and told him to shut it each and every time. It was almost like old times except you looked fatigued and sad and he was rougher and angry. When you were good to go Wade tossed around a few bills and walked out the front door hot on your heels, it was only when you started walking in the opposite direction of his car did he reach out to stop you.

"Wade—" You let him turn you around but you kept your feet planted in place and his heart twisted as your usual facade of anger had melted away into utter sadness and confusion.

"You just got kidnapped and you wanna take the bus?" He asked and you shook your head, but still didn't move. A beat of tense silence filled the space between you before you shrugged and laughed roughly, his hands hovered; wanting nothing more than to hold you again and ward off that blanket of hurt covering you.

"Were those the guys that shot you into a black hole?"

You didn't look at him as you asked and he slowly nodded.

"Yeah. I skimped on my end of the bargain and they thought they could get back at me, I'll take care of it, you'll be okay." He tried to sound reassuring, but his whole being was the opposite of that word. He would be making them all go away, that wasn't a question and he knew you wouldn't doubt that. As soon as someone went after the people he cared about, the list being very short and easy to find, they weren't destined to be in this plane of reality for much longer. They all joined the pile of the dead nameless characters only put in place to show off his wicked skills and mad devotion.

Of which he had entirely too much, he felt like he could burst at the seems from all the feelings inside him specifically labelled with your name. How could one person consume him so wholly? He had never figured it out and he doubted he ever would; despite the obvious inclination to wonder if it was the puppeteer playing him the feelings he felt were far too real and too deep to just be shrugged off as some shallow dialogue. You and him, right here and now, you were real and what you made him feel was real.

And right now he had a whole lot of fear.

You shook your head and turned away from him again, a humourless smile on your face that was hard to look at. Wade watched on carefully as you wrapped your arms around yourself and felt his arms fall to his side.

"I don't think I will be," you looked back at him, "I don't think we will be." That was the opposite of what Wade wanted to hear. He played through the scenario where he threw you over his shoulder and put you in the car, driving you home and ignoring everything you had to say about it. He tried to figure out if being with you and having you actively hate him and trying to get away from him was better than letting you go and getting the small moments of less than stellar small talk or worse; total silence.

Both sounded like garbage.

"I want to go home Wade."

"Then get in the car." He gestured back to the lacklustre scrap of metal and you shook your head, a small action that felt worse than the bullets that had ripped through him earlier. He felt his frustration boiling over, he wanted to rewind time and take back all of his stupid mistakes and all the angry words you'd thrown at each other the last few weeks. He just wanted you. He swore you still wanted him too.

"I can't."

For a moment Wade just stared at you, long and hard as you stepped away from him. He really felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place and definitely not in a good way. The worst way possible actually. He racked his brain for what to do and grovelling and being honest seemed the only way to move forward that didn't end in you running away from him for the rest of your life. As much as being stupid or aggressive would have been so much easier, he had enough brain left to realise that's how he ended up here in the first place.

"I can't lose you." He hated the way the words sounded so fragile in his mouth, he wanted to bite his tongue off as soon as he said it. You looked just as surprised as he was by him saying it and your mouth fell open as you failed to put together a reply. He watched as you pulled yourself together, the small physical cues he'd mesmerised showing him you were trying desperately to keep up the wall that had been slowly building up. But he wasn't gonna let you hide from him, not now.

"You already let me go, Wade."

He knew that, the reminder stung and he shook his head to rid himself of the flashes of your pained face, the tears he'd seen you shed when you thought you were alone.

"I fucked up, I'll wear that. I fuck up all the time and I'll keep fucking up but I," He sucked in a deep breath, holding his hands out to the side as he stepped forward, "I love you. You are the only good fuckin' thing in my life and I thought as long as you were okay and happy I could live without you, but I can't." He gritted out the words one after the other. God he hated this genre, he always ended up sounding like a wimp. But he wasn't lying, the only time he'd ever lied to you was when he told you to get lost on what had slowly become one of the worst days in his entire damn life.

He wished he had just told you the truth, he'd been getting pretty good at doing it before but something about seeing a reticle trained on you with a little red dot shook him hard to his core. He could disarm a guy in under a second but a drone with more than one controller was another matter and it had just wrecked him, his progress, his resolve; all of it. For that one second he'd lost you and then in the next he really did lose you. But it was in a far worse way as you were still walking around and breathing; just without him being able to be there breathing in that same air.

God this fucking sucked. Relationships always sucked, people were too complicated and he hated feeling how he felt right now. Utterly hopeless—the one guy in the world who could survive a nuclear bomb head-on couldn't handle a simple fucking relationship and like hell he knew how to salvage it in the wreckage he made. But he had no choice but to try and you weren't walking away. So he had to try, even when you didn't want him to.

"I'm always going to love you Wade," that was never a good start to a longer sentence, "I need time. I think we both do. Our relationship was never gonna be normal but there's a little unconventional and then there's our personal, hellish little train wreck that we got stuck in." You gestured between the both of you and Wade sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Please don't make me keep going with the pathetic grovelling babe please, the author sucks at writing it," He whispered, a half assed attempt to skirt around the heaviness of the conversation. He wasn't good at this, he never had been. Class clown extraordinaire whose way of dealing with conflict was stabbing pencils into eye sockets struggled with relationship talk, go figure.

"Wade can you be fucking serious please, no bullshit." You stressed, stepping forward and he nodded quickly, matching your step with his own so you were only a foot apart.

"I'm sorry, you know I ramble when I get nervous."

"Fucking hell," You groaned and covered your face with your hands, inhaling deeply before dropping your hands and seemingly giving up the fight for now. He was grateful because he wasn't really sure how much fight he had left in him. Well, for you he couldn't fight for eternity, fight with you even. But man it would wear him out.

"Okay just. You have a raw fucking moment with me here and I'll let you take me home, are you actually gonna do anything different or are you gonna sweep everything under the rug and hit me with the same shit in another two years?" Your question is valid and Wade mulled it over as he thought about what you might be looking for in terms of a change. His behaviour was never gonna get any better, neither was his potty mouth—but yours was no better so it wasn't that. He lifted a hand to hold the back of his neck, to think but also to pluck out the bullet that was starting to itch like hell.

"You want couples counselling or whatever I'll do it, I'm gonna be me about it but I'll sit the full hour. The quack might not make it but—" He waved his other hand in the air as he rattled off the one possibility he could think you'd like to hear and you were quick to follow up, a light full of hope flickering behind your tired eyes.

"And you'll talk to me? The next time shit hits the fan in a scary way you'll trust me enough to tell me instead of calling off our two year relationship with gross ass insults—which fucking hurt, by the way." You crossed your arms over your chest and Wade had never nodded so fast or so hard in his life. He jumped toward you like a man running from fire into the arms of a sexy fireman; except he was holding onto your arms and no one's feet were being whisked into the air—but still.

"I will—and i'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it, if that helps," The author didn't even write it so good luck getting him to remember what he even said. All he knew is that it was bad and left a terrible taste in his mouth, a mouldy taste that lingered and clogged up his throat. You didn't lurch away as his hands rested on your forearms but you didn't lean into him like you always used to, it was some uncomfortable thing in the middle that made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"It doesn't…" You roll your lips into a thin line before sighing and moving your feet, slipping your arms out of his hands and each step lead you back to the shit box Wade drove you here in. A small win, one he'd gladly fucking take right now.

End notes: Some movie!Wade seeped through here, I cannot deny a good backing track for a fight sequence, writing it while listening to those songs was an absolute blast—let me know if it was as fun to read as it was to write! As always, see you in the next one!

[derelictlovefool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4k

read on ao3!

Night rolled in quickly and Dean and Grace made use of an old abandoned camp off a small trail, it was out of the way enough they figured it would be safe—planning to take turns keeping an eye out while the other slept. The camp had a duffel bag with some soup cans and after Grace had made a fire in an impressively short time they both had cracked one open and began chowing down on the soup.

"If we're gonna be working together you might wanna get a handle on your gun phobia." Grace remarked before shoving the spoon into her mouth. Dean blinked, leaning back and furrowing his brows as her words registered. That came out of nowhere.

"I don't have a gun phobia?" He said, confusion clear in his tone as he rested his own can of soup on his knee. Grace shot him a look, wiping her mouth before gesturing at him with her spoon.

"I didn't see you shoot a gun once, you hit a lot of people in the face with 'em but they're more effective when you shoot with 'em." Grace set a firm stare on him, nodding to his gun and Dean couldn't help but drop his head in embarrassment. His gaze fixed on the small campfire they'd set up. He knew that he just…

"I just—I didn't sign up to kill anyone." He muttered, sticking his spoon into the can with a small frown. He stirred it mindlessly as he heard Grace sigh.

"You ain't the only one, but when it's you or them you ain't got a lot of choices." She shook her head, resting her forearms on her knees as she also turned her gaze to the small flickering fire.

"Yeah I know, I…" Dean trailed off, thinking back to that first night. The peggie he shot. The peggie at Fall's End. The people he wrote off under their title instead of having to think about their names and ages and families. He already felt their ghosts hanging off his ankles, anymore and he didn't know if he'd be able to walk. He swallowed the lump in his throat, he felt pathetic. There was so much going on, people suffering, and he was worried about his feelings. What a joke.

"I'll tell you something, deputy. You're not a weak man for not wanting to kill. You're a good one from what I've seen. But these people don't care about that, they're blinded by their faith in Joseph Seed and you're the big bad enemy standing in their way." Grace spoke again, leaning back. Dean met her gaze and tried to soak in her words, maybe if he heard it enough it'd finally sink in and stay there. He highly doubted it would but there was a chance. Maybe there was a chance he'd stop seeing an oddly serene little kid when he heard that name too.

"I got a body count i'm not too proud of myself, goin' up even more now. But I have it for the right reasons, i'm protecting people. If we don't fight this battle innocent people will die. I don't know about you but I'm willing to forfeit a few good nights of rest if it means saving those lives." Grace bowed her head for a moment, the fire and her hat casting a dramatic shadow over her eyes for a moment. She looked up at him again after a pause with a heat to her gaze, mirrored by the fire catching in them.

Dean felt some of her conviction rub off on him, a swell in his chest motivated by her words making him sit up a little straighter. She made a good point, Blair did too. He really needed to start taking notes from these people. The first step was listening, he guessed. He nodded, to her and to himself. He thought back on what he'd told himself at Fall's End, he had to be ruthless. Be ruthless to be good in a way. Fighting fire with fire. If Grace could do it and still get some sleep surely he could too.

He dug his heels into the dirt, stirring the soup again as he let his thoughts arrange themselves. He was tired, right down to his bones and he knew he would be for the foreseeable future. He heaved a sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his knuckle.

"I never got any firearms training." He admitted and Grace took a moment to process what he'd said before she burst out into a small fit of laughter. Dean's lips quivered as he fought his own laughter—It was funny, if not also a comment on subpar regulations. He hadn't complained because he didn't wanna use it anyway. Grace smiled then, a broad one that made Dean feel a bit lighter after that heavy topic.

"Tomorrow you'll show me what you can do and I'll see if I can give you some pointers." Grace offered and Dean felt himself genuinely perk up. Not a reaction he thought he'd ever have over someone offering to teach him to shoot.

"Thank you Grace,"

She offered a non-committal nod and Dean ducked his head down. They finished their soup and Dean volunteered to take first watch, promptly shut down by Grace with little argument being allowed. So he curled up on top of an old sleeping bag, arms wrapped around himself. He stared at the dirt and grass for a while, his mind wandering with no alcohol to conk him out into blissful slumber. He thought about his siblings, about his coworkers, his new acquaintances and his old friend. He couldn't help it, no matter what his mind wanted to run through a reel of his brief childhood in Atlanta and the boy he spent most of his time with. Even as he tried to scrub it away and remind himself of who that boy was now.

Some habits were hard to break, feelings hard to throw away and forget.

He squeezed his eyes shut, counting in his head in attempt to focus. The fatigue through his body made the method more effective than it ever had been and with one last inhale and numbers trailing off in his mind he succumbed to sleep.

The air was tense—more than normal. Jacob shifted through his blueprints, tuning out the way John's heel made an irritating clacking noise every time his bouncing leg fell. Faith sat opposite of his little brother, lazing in her chair and reading through a file he'd tossed her way earlier, reports on the judge tests they'd been doing and the bliss effects. He wanted it amped up, she said she'd have to look into it. He could do it himself if it really came down to it but he deigned to wait. Follow the invisible rules laid out around them like a web. There was an order to their chaos and he'd follow it until it got in his way.

John toyed with his watch, glancing down at it and to the doorway Joseph still hadn't graced, an obvious furrow to his pinched brows.

"Starin' at the door won't make him show up faster, John." He mused and John let out a small, near unnoticeable scoff.

"Thank you Jacob, i'm well aware." He huffed, leaning back in his chair and placing his fidgeting hands in his lap. He never was good at waiting, never had been. Especially not when he was in the middle of getting his hooks back into Fall's End, or reclaiming their stolen land as he put it. But when Joseph called they all answered no matter what. Faith seemed to be the least bothered by the situation, naturally she had no connection to the brunette who'd left the three brothers shaken in some way. Jacob still remembered Joseph's words after the crash, the look in his eyes as he held onto him with a grip tight enough to pull him from the seventh circle of hell. Joseph hadn't told him everything, he could always tell when he was holding some puzzle pieces for himself.

Some visions he shared and some he didn't and for the most part Jacob was okay with that. He didn't need to know, it wasn't his job to know. But this one time, he had an urge to ask. He wanted to understand what Joseph had seen, what mechanism was Dean in his holy construction? Maybe knowing the answer would help him get his head on straight and help reaffirm his own place in it; his assured understanding unequivocally changed since the moment they were in the same room. And damn if that wasn't infuriating.

John's radio buzzed on his belt and he ripped it out with ferocity, holding it up as one of his chosen's voice rippled through the static.

"The deputy was spotted near the Lamb Of God Church with Grace Armstrong. They should still be in the area, do we move in?"

So he was tracking him—he thought so. John held grudges like nobody's business.

"Yes, yes. But don't engage, just follow him. I want to know what he thinks he's up to." John hissed, dismissing the chosen quickly and slapping the radio down on the table. Irritation rolled off of him in waves and Jacob just shook his head, closing his blueprints for now and tossing them onto the table. Faith followed suit, discarding the files he'd given her on the table and standing. She glided across the floor to a tray with a jug of water, pouring herself a glass and humming to herself. She did a small playful spin as she made her way back, swaying gently as she eyed the door.

She was bored, it wasn't hard to tell. They all had other things to be focusing on in the very beginning of the reaping. Chess pieces they'd set falling into their checks and mates just as planned. With the one unplanned rook sweeping John's out from under him and causing a mess. Before Jacob could follow that thought the door they'd all been eyeing finally swung open. Joseph stepped through and the air stilled, John and Jacob standing as he walked up to the table. He greeted Faith first, holding her upper arm and resting his forehead to hers and gently uttering her name.

He stepped to Jacob, mimicking the hold he had on him after the plane crash but with far less force. And then he did the same to John before making his way to the head of the table. They all sat and waited, Joseph looked around the paperwork on the table, his elbows on the wood and fingers interlocked—resting in front of his mouth.

"I know we've all been quite surprised by the deputy, I knew there would be someone coming to open the seal—I never saw their face. But now knowing what we know I believe it was fate, Dean was destined to find us again and be a part of this reckoning. This is his trial, once he's passed it he will be with us and our family will be stronger. We need to show him the path," He rests his hand over Faith's, reaching for John's as well, "we need to guide him with understanding and love. He knows nothing of what is coming—but he will." Joseph's tone is as sombre as ever, his gaze intense as he takes his time to look at each of his siblings.

John and Faith offer a chorus of, "Yes Joseph," while Jacob simply nods in affirmation. Understanding and love was the last thing Jacob was going to offer his former friend, it wouldn't achieve the outcome Joseph actually wanted and deep down he knew it. Not even to mention he'd lost the ability for things so soft a long time ago, beaten out of him by belts and cables and bullets. Dean was in for tough love, the kind they were both well acquainted with. Joseph leant back and folded his hands over each other, the beads of his rosary scraping across the wood.

"Do we know where he is currently?" Joseph asks gently, his eyes automatically drifting to John as if he already knew the answer.

"He was last spotted by the Lamb of God church, I have people watching him." John puffed out his chest like a peacock showing off its feathers, a pleased smile on his face as he waited eagerly for Joseph's approval. which he of course received in a smile and pat on the shoulder.

"We'll have to begin with his cleansing,"

"I have a room prepared for him." John answered instantly, as if on script and Joseph nodded in approval.

"Jacob, Faith will lead him to you once he is ready, that will be his path. You will be his judge and his final trial, only you will be able to walk him through the gates." Joseph turned his gaze on him and Jacob held steady under it. He tried not to pick apart the choice of words and nodded, glancing at Faith who offered a serene smile. Seemed like she had the easiest job here, or the hardest. From what Jacob remembered Dean was not so easily swayed, even if he followed people around the playground like a puppy eager to please. He had his hard limits and was harder to budge than a concrete slab in a cemetery.

"The collapse is nearing faster now, how are other preparations coming along?" Joseph eased back into his chair and Jacob felt strangely relieved at the change of topic. The more Dean came up the more it felt like he was picking at an old wound, a reaction he wasn't really expecting from himself.

John straightened up in his chair and adjusted his vest, kicking one leg over the other as he addressed their brother.

"My gate is fully prepared and we've collected a hundred souls so far, twenty of whom have gone through their cleansing, Deputy Hudson has just begun her own. I'm working on retaking Falls End and recollecting Mary May Fairgrave and Jerome Jeffries." John cleared his throat at the end, obviously hating to admit he'd lost them in the first place.

"Let me know when you do." Joseph replied, tone stern but gentle, just like how he'd talk to him when he was younger and had forgotten to clean up his corner of their shared room.

"My gate is nearly ready, a few supplies are still coming in. The Marshal has taken quite well to the Bliss, he'll be walking his path shortly. All my priestesses are busy collecting souls across the Henbane, I'll have a number by next week." Faith hummed, voice slow like a sloth and flittery like a hummingbird all at once. Joseph nodded, a small hum coming from him that didn't help discern whether it was approval or not. Faith shifted ever so slightly at it, a near unnoticeable sign of discomfort—or perhaps annoyance—as her smile became forced.

"Judge trials are nearly wrapping up, just waitin' to get the go ahead on ampin' up the bliss concentrate. Our militia is comin' along well and peaches—Pratt, has just started his conditioning." Jacob is short and sweet with his report, he'd have a proper one ready later. He'd been preoccupied at the moment, something he refused to rightly acknowledge.

"Will he be ready by the time Dean comes to you?" Joseph asks and Jacob doesn't need to think on it much before nodding.

"He's weak. He'll break quick." He affirms and Joseph bows his head in a deep nod.

"You're doing so well, my family. If we stay on this path we'll all be walking through the gates together soon." Joseph offered one of those smiles that didn't quite fit him anymore, broad and creasing his eyes but offset just slightly and crooked.

"There's still some things we must discuss…" Joseph continued, clasping his hands together and the three siblings settled in to listen. Once it was Joseph's turn to speak they were destined to be there for a while.

Dean adjusted the gun in his hand, still blinking the sleep away from his eyes as he stared down the barrel at the row of bottles Grace had lined up. She stood off to the side scrutinising his form with her gaze, arms crossed as she made her way around him.

"Hold steady. Feet apart, back straight. There you go. Fire when ready." Her words were firm and steady, with a nice hint of reassurance that made her sound like she'd trained a thousand men to shoot.

He took a deep breath and fired. And he missed.

Well—that was embarrassing.

"Open both your eyes, deputy." Grace said, words dry, but smirk heard loud and clear in the drawl.

"...Right," He coughed. He decided to take the defence of having just barely woken up, that was absolutely it.

He fired again, the bottle on the left shattering and falling to the ground in a hundred pieces. That was better, it felt kind of good too. When his target wasn't a person it wasn't so hard. He took a few more shots, managing to get all the bottles Grace had lined up for him. He didn't rush but he tried not to be embarrassingly slow and it seemed to pay off for him. Once all the bottles were nothing but piles of broken glass in the grass he lowered the gun.

"Not bad for an old dog?" He grinned cheekily, Grace rolling her eyes.

"Old dog?" She snorted.

"I'm probably older than you, you know." He mused.

Grace let out a short disbelieving scoff, smacking his arm as she walked past and that was the end of that discussion. He didn't bother elaborating that he wasn't joking, it didn't really matter and he didn't help his case with how he still managed to act like a nervous schoolboy half the time. It's probably what helped him fit in so well in the sheriff's department though if he really thought about it. His boyish attitude and obedient nature didn't really scream old man, he could only imagine how he'd seem next to Jacob. Life had really taken them in two totally different directions and Dean couldn't see any of his old friend left while in comparison he was still waiting to feel like a proper adult.

"Let's try out some moving targets, s'all good and well if you can shoot a stationary one but peggies don't sit still and wait for you to shoot 'em."

Dean nodded, holstered his gun and followed after her out of the clearing and back into the dense trees. He hoped she wasn't suggesting shooting animals, he didn't want to shoot humans but he really didn't want to shoot defenceless animals.

Luckily for Dean Grace wasn't thinking anything of the sort. She'd led him back to the burnt down house, where he found out it had been her home. The fact had left him speechless but she'd moved on quickly, treading around the rubble and to a shed; singed but not destroyed. Dean dragged his eyes over the charred wood of the home, feeling a second hand loss and anger at the sight of it. This was so fucked. He'd had no home a few times in the past but under much different circumstances, in most of them at least he had somewhere to crawl back too. Grace pulled out something that looked like a heftier automatic ball thrower from the shed and walked over to him.

"My old man made this when I was younger, so I could practise shootin'. We'll see if it still works." She offered a smile as Dean took it from her after she held it out to him. It was about as heavy as a small generator. Grace ducked into the shed again and came out with a small bag, setting off again and Dean once again followed after her. They went out into the large clearing again and set up near the edge of it. Just in case they needed to make a quick exit. Grace struggled to get the thing to work but after a sharp kick it made some whirring noises, the sputtering afterwards didn't sound too good but it was running.

Grace directed Dean to a spot much like a drama teacher guiding their pupil, it made him giggle and she told him to take it seriously despite her own amused smile present for half a second. He followed her instructions and copied his earlier motions of aiming his gun. Both eyes open, stance wide, back straight.

"Now these are gonna go out fast, hopefully, there'll be a second where they're gettin' ready to fall but you gotta be quick." Grace instructed, loading in something that looked like a frisbee into the machine. That was now smoking, for the record.

"Ready when you are." Dean said with a confident nod, after the bottle he figured it couldn't be that hard.

A loud thunk was followed by the quick woosh of air, similar to the sound that came from spinning a rope in a circle really fast. Luckily this didn't have a chance of smacking him in the leg, that always hurt. But it was also hard to keep track of amongst the clouds and Dean fumbled instantly, taking a shot and missing. He tried to catch it on its way down to the ground but that also failed. He heard a snort and scowled at Grace who had covered her mouth. She shook her head and he noticed the small shake of her shoulders.

"Okay, yeah, very funny, i'll get the next one. Probably." He grumbled, pouting as he readied himself again for another go. Grace didn't say anything, maybe to spare his feelings, as she loaded the thing back up. Another loud bang and Dean was ready this time, but still only managed to clip the edge of it. He cursed gently under his breath but followed it down and managed to get it a foot off of the ground.

"I kinda wish I'd made them give me training now, man." Dean grumbled, shaking his head in frustration and Grace chuckled.

"Really lowerin' their standards nowadays,"

"It wasn't all exactly up to regulation, no." Dean couldn't help laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of it all. It felt good to laugh, he appreciated how easy it felt to laugh in the moment. He was thankful Grace agreed to tag along with him, he needed this.

She chucked in another mark and Dean scraped the side of it but there was definitely a hole in it. The next two he hit right on the edge, the third he got a lucky hit close to the middle. Grace made hums and other noises, sizing up his shots and judging his skill—Or, lack thereof. He didn't mention he might have had glasses for a few years until he got sick of having to renew the prescription and the tan coloured Frisbee blended in a bit too much with the sky when they were at their highest point. He figured it wasn't that big of a deal, he could blame it on his inexperience anyway.

"Your aim's inconsistent, you gotta keep your eye straight down the barrel. Try to predict where the mark is gonna be, don't focus on where it's coming from." Grace walked over to quickly fix Dean's form, pushing his spine straighter and nudging his arms up higher, he felt like a kid getting his first shooting lessons. Minus the kid part, he was. Grace walked back over to the machine which was starting to sputter more consistently, the grey smoke tainting black as it fought to cooperate.

The next row of shots were a bit better but weren't gonna win him any awards, he managed to only miss two out of seven which was better. For him. Grace chucked the last one in and Dean breathed out, trying to really make this one count.

Bang!

The bullet skirted under the bottom of the mark and its directory changed, aiming directly for Dean who made a less than dignified noise as he dropped to his knees to avoid it. That had Grace huffing with laughter, shaking her head as Dean caught himself with one hand before he face planted into the dirt.

"Jesus." He muttered through disconnected giggles, pushing off his hand and letting himself fall onto his ass, pulling out the gun's clip to check how many bullets were left as he shook his head. He really made it count in some type of way. The machine breathed its last whirring, sputtering cry before giving out with an odd pop. Grace sighed and pushed herself up from the ground, tossing her rifle over her shoulder and walking slowly back over to Dean.

"How bad was it?"

"I've seen a twelve year old shoot better than that but, it'll do. At least you can hit a moving target." Grace smiled, holding out her hand to him. Dean sighed and took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

"Thanks for that… uh, guess we should get going. Plenty of people who could use my excellent marksmanship about now I'm sure." Dean offered a lopsided smile and Grace rolled her eyes.

"Maybe not your marksmanship but they sure do need you deputy." She replied smoothly, patting his shoulder before starting the trek along the clearing; most likely towards a road. Dean paused for a moment, taking stock of her words as he watched her back. He shook it off, taking stride after her. People needed the deputy, the symbol, the strong and resilient persona he put on anytime he wore his uniform. Just now they needed him a little more brutal. What's one more thing to tack onto the long list? After that short and sweet shooting lesson he was feeling a bit more prepared, he wasn't gonna go around shooting everything that moved but he knew he could if he needed too.

And considering the past few days there was no doubt he would.

[derelictlovefool]

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❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝.

Notes: Don't forget part one and part two! Reader and Wade suck at communicating some more, Peter's a good pal and you should remember to never walk past dark alleyways at night kids, especially when your recent ex is a merc!

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

The act of finishing a favourite hot beverage had never been so difficult, so tense and unendurable. You and Wade had sat in stuffy silence, neither giving in and or walking away; the only two ways to push the painful interaction forward. You had so much you wanted to say but no words would come out, your leg bounced under the table and you'd locked your arms over each other. You were trying with all your might to block him out, physically and mentally, but it would never work with him right across from you. You inhaled deeply and exhaled just as roughly, Wade's own movements Mimicking yours as he adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look at us," he finally muttered, "This is sadder than the shitty apartment in that game they made about me." He sighed and you felt like tossing your empty mug at his head for the reference you couldn't conjure in your mind, no one in this universe was making games in honour of Deadpool—or Wade Wilson. No one was making anything his face or name anywhere near it. He was right that it was fucking sad though, you wouldn't argue with that.

"Whose fault is that?" You couldn’t help but be snippy, indignation heavy in your tone, your back restlessly hitting the back of the booth that started to feel more suffocating as the seconds ticked by. You wanted to be anywhere else, you wanted to turn back time and be sitting in this booth with Wade making jokes about the cafe decor and not remarking on your crumbling relationship.

"I blame Daniel Way and Damon Wilson-Hart personally—"

You shot him a pointed look and he cut himself off, the mirage of humour and escaping this reality joining the hot cocoa in his stomach acid as he all but deflated before you.

"How many times do I gotta say sorry?" His shoulders slumped and he held his hands up in question, he'd never sounded so lost. And there were plenty of times when he had been, maybe in even more dire and important ways than this. One's where you weren't involved.

"I don't know Wade, I've never had that big of a shitshow breakup before and I can't just snap my fingers and get over it." You snapped your fingers to emphasise your point, "I wish I could just forgive you and have nothing but happy, bubbly feelings for you again but that's not how the real world works." You unfold your arms, spreading them out across the table and you seem him almost reach out to grab one of your hands when you do; you weren't sure if you would have recoiled, or if you would have grabbed him back tight enough to leave a bruise—so you're relieved when he doesn't.

It would just make it harder.

"What do we do now then? I'm no good at grovelling, I'm much better at shovelling and shooting, neither of those apply here—or do they?"

"If I were to start somewhere Wade I'd figure out how you're gonna tell me what happened, with all the gritty details, " you ignored his latter question, "and maybe while you're at it some therapy would do you some good." You hated how harsh you sounded but you needed to say it, it's not like you were asking too much—Well the therapy might have been a step too far for Wade but you stood by it. No matter how much you praised the work your therapist had done while helping you Wade never got more than a hundred feet within a practice or office.

It was like he was allergic to the mere concept of therapy and getting help.

"And what about you?"

"I have an appointment with my therapist and i'm gonna bitch and moan about you, wait for them to fix me and tell me what to do so I can argue with them for ten minutes… And end up doing the opposite." You rolled your eyes, expecting a scoff or some kind of dig, that seemed to be what you were both good at right now. But what you got was almost worse.

"So there's still hope… For us?" His words left a heavy feeling hanging over you and you suddenly found your fingernails very interesting. Caught off guard and forced to deal with yourself rather than him had you shfiting in your seat. You wanted to say yes, of course, there was never no hope for you. No matter how many scenarios you played in your head none of them had you walking away from the merc, it just wasn't something you were capable of. Your therapist would be extremely disappointed but despite all you'd told them no one really understood you and Wade, and no one ever really would.

Even when it felt like you were worlds apart it was you two against everybody else.

You envisioned the both of you back to back, tied by that silly red string pulled tight enough to draw blood, your skin on Wade's and the both of you unable to move lest the cord pull tighter and choose to free you both of your heads and hearts. The more you thought about it the more you got to realise how much you'd let yourself need Wade and how your therapist had some credibility when they tossed the co-dependency thing around. You wished you’d never heard the word and kept living in blissful ignorance but it was too late for that, you and Wade were all kinds of messed up and this whole situation was proving a myriad of things you didn’t want to think about.

"I hope so." You whispered, the sentiment genuine as it tumbles from your lips. You wanted to stop being angry. you wanted to stop your chest from aching anytime you glanced at him and got flooded by the memories of the last two years—and that fucking breakup. God you wanted to forget about it and tuck it away into the memories that gave you hives box and never think about it again. Depending on someone wasn't a crime and you knew Wade felt the same, even if it was for different reasons. That day had apparently sucked for both of you but you dared to say you got the shorter end of the stick.

Your phone buzzed, Wade stared you down from across the table.

You picked it up and despite the notification being nothing more than a reminder for your appointment the next day you stood and stuffed it away in your pocket. You couldn’t deal with this right now, the angry arguments you could handle but the raw, open vulnerability was too much—at least for a cafe. Maybe if you were back in your apartment you’d feel more inclined to sit in it and talk. Actually talk. But you weren’t at your apartment.

"I gotta go, I'll… See you around Wade." It felt weird to walk past him without squeezing his shoulder or pressing a kiss to the leather of his suit; all of this felt wrong and you wanted to try all over again. Maybe you should have just stayed home, actually. Wade grabbed your wrist and you took a moment to steel yourself before looking down at him, his expression hidden by that red fabric and blank white eyes set into the black coverings.

"Tomorrow night. I'll see you." It was a firm declaration and it had you wondering all sorts of things but you were too tired to argue. You nodded and his hand lingered over yours as he slowly let you go. It felt nice, for a brief moment, to have your hand in his; the warmth of his palm and gentle touch of his fingertips. But it slipped away and you walked out, holding your head high as you forced yourself to head down the street. You found yourself at another park across the city, sitting on a bench and scrolling through your contacts as you thought about how to distract yourself.

Normally you loved the weekend—Normally you had Wade or friends to hang out with.

But as you looked at the names of your buddies you couldn't think of one that wouldn't give you another 'I told you so' lecture about Wade and you really didn't need that right now. You needed to think about literally anything else at that moment—or be supported in some other, less Wade-hating way.

You jumped as your phone rang and you stared at the photo on your screen for a second before you picked up the call.

"Hi Pete." You greeted, brows furrowed as the sound of wind gushing past the receiver met your ears.

"Spidey senses were tingling, you okay?" He asked, voice muffled by his mask, and you can't help but laugh. No, you were so far from okay, and Peter was not one of the people who'd keep his mouth shut about Wade. He hated him, or at the very least had an extreme dislike for him—even when you were dating, he didn't keep his disdain about it to himself. You got that's what friends were for in so many cases, but sometimes it really pissed you off, and you weren't sure you could handle any of that right now.

"I'm fine," a long pause, "Okay no, I feel like shit but I really, really, don't want to talk about it." You muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced around the park. People walked by like usual, none of their world's were crumbling at the seams because their boyfriend broke up with them—they were happy, or, happier than you. The wind died down on the other side of your phone, and you jumped as the bench bounced with the weight of someone leaping onto the wood beside you.

You turned to the side, Peter crouching beside you, fully suited up and phone now tucked safely away. You let yours fall to your lap as Spiderman now squinted at you, scrutinising the eye bags and red eyes as you stared back at him hoping he didn't say the one name you don't wanna hear from him.

"Hello totally-random-sad-bench-citizen whom I don’t know, you look like you need pizza and a joyride." You were pleasantly surprised when he held his hands out to you. People were whispering around you again, but this time, it was all directed at the superhero beside you. You stood, took his hand and let him help you to your feet, jumping on his back in what you both liked to call 'backpack buddy mode'. Within a second you were flying through the crisp air, you gasped, always in awe no matter how many times you'd done this. The feeling of flying through the air, far away from all your issues, was like nothing else. It was freeing.

You clung to Peter's shoulders and tried to get a good look at the city streets below, where everything looked like ants, and you felt like a God watching the world go by. If only you could stay up here with the birds, never touch the ground or have to focus on your problems like a grown adult.

Apparently and thankfully, Peter had already ordered pizza, and when you arrived at the rooftop of one of the taller apartment complexes in the city, there was a pizza box and cans of soda waiting. You wondered if he’d spotted you on your walk earlier, it would be too far-fetched to guess he saw you run into Wade and head to the cafe. You would be surprised if that were the case, seeing as he’d been like your small, chihuahua sized guard dog hellbent on keeping Wade away from you as you dealt with everything. Maybe he had realised what your therapist had already known or a year.

Wade was your problem and your solution all wrapped up in one messy little bow. You couldn’t get past this without him.

"I don't want a heart to heart over pizza and soda, just so you know." He set you down safely on the brick and shrugged in reply, walking over to the ledge to sit down.

"Duly noted, you want me to hear about my day then?" He clapped his hands together, and you smiled, nodding in genuine eagerness—hearing about someone else for a while might just do the trick of getting you out of your own head. And damn did you need out of it for a second.

"Okay, good, because you're not gonna believe what these bank robbers did this morning, these guys really get their routines from looney tunes or something." And so he began, pushing his mask up to his nose so he could 'chow and pow', the term you coined for talking shit and stuffing your face while you were at it. Very unattractive but inevitable when you were eating and deep into your rant.

Peter waved his arms about as he regaled the stupidity of a group of bank robbers and then the old lady who nearly got him hit by a bus, it was nice to lose yourself to his day for a while. You even laughed, a full, belly-aching laugh with snorts and all. You stayed on the roof until the sun began to set, and you ended laying on your back, legs dangling over the ledge as you and Peter fell into a comfortable silence. Staring at the clouds carving their snail pace across the sky and the shifting hues of the sky beyond them.

The pizza box and soda cans were empty, and for a moment, so was your mind. You could close your eyes, and everything was totally blank. Just a serene nothing as you listened to the faded sounds of the city and your own breathing.

"I know you don't want to talk about it."

Fuck. There it was. You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut as you readied yourself for whatever he was about to say.

"I'm here if you need me, I think I said all I wanted to say…" He trailed off and you recalled Peter arriving in your apartment the night of the breakup, his anger had almost rivalled your own anguish and he had definitely had plenty of choice things to say about… About Wade. About your relationship too, but mostly Wade.

"Breakups suck, and if you need another joyride and pizza hour with your friendly neighbourhood… With your friend, I'm here." Peter knocked your knuckles together, and you felt yourself relax, appreciative of where that had gone. Far from what you'd been expecting. You rolled your head to the side and shot him a smile, matching his own as you returned the weak fist bump.

"Thanks Pete,"

"Anytime… You need a ride home? Free of charge." You grinned as you pulled yourself up and he followed suit.

"Nah, can you drop me off at Faun Street? I think I need to walk in thoughtful silence for a bit." You mused, there was a lot you needed to get in order in your own head before you faced Wade again. You needed to decide whether you were gonna accept whatever he said and maybe try to work things out or put your foot down and decide… That it was maybe time you two were just friends again. Even though the thought alone made your stomach turn over itself uncomfortably.

"Yeah, okay, I get it." And with that, you were off, having the short and fun ride of binning your trash mid-air and being dropped off right across from the café you and Wade had sat in earlier today. You hugged Peter goodbye, and after he vanished around a corner, you rolled your shoulders and turned on your heel—headed toward the park that eventually would lead you back home.

You had to evaluate some things, like how much you could be okay with Wade's reasoning for the spectacle he made of your breakup. You think you'd need a while to get over how public and angry it was, he didn't need to be that cruel about it—no matter what. The thought he was trying to protect you in his own twisted way did make sense, but it didn't make it hurt any less. You weren't sure there was anyone for you after Wade, no one could full the shape of him in your heart, you doubted anyone would want to. So even if it had gone smoother, even if it had been cordial and he had gotten stuck forever in a black hole; you would have been more likely to steal a spaceship and save him yourself. Somehow.

You'd managed to find him in wieder places before. If he had more faith in you, let you into that side of his world more openly, then it wouldn't have been a problem in the first place. Maybe that was it, you had to break down that wall between Deadpool and Wade Winston Wilson, the division he put up to keep you away from the blood and guts of his operation—literally and figuratively Maybe then he could be more honest, still a dick but one that wouldn't break up with you on the basis of not being able to tell you the truth.

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you crossed onto the street and past an alleyway, poor timing on obscuring your vision there you'd admit later. Especially as multiple hands shot out and took hold of you all at once—your side hit the ground and your body scraped across the concrete harshly, your skin burned and the air escaped your lungs before you could make any type of distinguishable noise. You barely got a glance at the shadowy figures around you before a heavy force hit the back of your head, blacking out your vision and leaving you limp and unconscious.

End notes: Hope you enjoyed this part, let know know what you thought about it! The next part’s gonna be tons of fun! :)

[derelictlovefool]

✮ DEMO (238K) ✮ FAQ ✮ PLAYLISTS ✮ PATREON

Latest update -> 12/01/2023

You're going to be a superstar, no matter what it takes.

You and your friends have been in a band since high school, when all you were was a lead singer to a band that played out of someone's garage and did occasional birthday party gigs for the neighborhood kids. after years of grinding, your band has yet to make it big, but has managed a small and dedicated cult following. All you and your bandmates want is to see your names in glittery lights, traveling the world to perform for millions of fans.

Your chance comes in Misfit Alley's Battle of the Bands. After auditioning every year with no success, your band has finally gotten the opportunity to tour across the United States and open for the biggest band in the world, performing against other bands in the hopes that you win and get signed.

As you perform, your fame rises and you can see the dream coming to fruition. But with fame comes problems of its own, some that might just ruin you and the band you swore to take to the top.

Infamous is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, violence, morally questionable behavior, and more.

✮ FEATURES ✮ CHARACTER INTROS ✮

Customize your MC (the lead singer of your band)'s appearance and personality, as well as their public image and persona. Are they loved or hated by the public? Controversial or appeasing? Humble or arrogant? Fame and money-hungry or simply there for the music?

Following that, work on your band's public image and whether they're mainstream or underground, depending on the choice of music you release and what kind of promo you do. Is your band hated by parents due to its explicit content or is your band squeaky clean, perfect for a mainstream label?

Engage in fiery romance with an array of wild characters, including some that may just get you into hot water with the rumor mill.

Create your own lyrics and decide whether you want to be a genuine artist or the face of a brand.

Get rich and famous ! Isn't that what you're here for?

✮THE BAND + ROs✮

The Band Manager: Orion/Oriana Quinn ✮ he/him or she/her, 35 ✮ [RO] -- strict and reserved, O is the antithesis of what a rockstar is. Some call their cold and uptight demeanor having 'a stick up their ass' but they call it being business focused. O is all about bringing the band to the top, which includes being professional at all times.

Special romance route: you can choose to have been chasing O for years, to no success (until now?)

The New Addition: August Pierce ✮ they/them, 26 ✮ [RO] -- With the exit of your bandmate, August has taken her place as the band's drummer. Usually shy and reserved, that all goes out the window once they start playing. You wonder if their isolation is less a personality trait and more the fact that they're in a band with longtime friends. Doesn't matter--seems like it'll take a while for you to get close to them regardless.

The Idol: Griffin/Gina 'Gigi' Reign ✮ he/him or she/her, 28 ✮ [RO] -- the spunky, charming and controversial lead singer of Misfit Alley and now your mentor, G Reign is currently the most famous person on Earth. Everyone either hates them, wants to be them, or wants to fuck them. Of course, this means a slew of trouble if one gets close to them...that is if they even allow it.

Special romance route: engage in an affair / engage in a strictly physical relationship (that can lead to a romantic one) // poly route with Victoria Valentine

The Rival: Seven Lawless ✮ he/him or she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- once your best friend or ex, they are now your rival and the lead singer of Soft Violence, another band competing for Battle of the Bands. They hate you. Still, the line between love and hate is a whole lot of passion.

Special romance route: can either be an ex or a former best friend, enemies to lovers.

The Girl Dad: Sebastian Holland ✮ he/him, 33 ✮ [RO] -- a normal and friendly data analyst, Sebastian isn't about the music scene....but his daughter is and she's a superfan of your band. Sebastian is your typical 'nice guy' almost too nice, sometimes, and has been dragged along by his daughter to follow the Battle of the Bands for her birthday. He's just a normal civilian. The last thing you should do is get to know him, right?

The Eye Candy: Victoria Valentine ✮ she/her, 27 ✮ [RO] -- G Reign's wife, she's an upcoming actress and model. Victoria has been G's eye candy since they came up on the scene, but you can almost sense the tension between them. And the way Victoria seeks shelter in someone else...that could be you.

Special romance route: engage in an affair // poly route with G Reign

✮BAND MEMBERS✮

Rowan Hart (he/him) -- guitarist

Iris De Luca (she/her) - keyboardist

Devyn Powell -- (they/she) bassist, background vocals

reblogs appreciated! and thank you for your interestttt

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​​🇴​​🇧​​🇴​​🇷​​🇴​​🇸​🇪​​🇩​​🇺​​🇷​​🇴​—⨾❝

— 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐬.

Notes: As per part one, my depiction of Wade here aligns with comic Wades personality, this is still angst central and reader still likes saying fuck. Wade finally breaks the fourth wall a crack (Playlist in part one's notes <3)

Warning/s: Canon Typical behaviour, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

For once Wade was true to his word and you had found a duffel bag of cash on your bed not a week later, the blood and bullet holes in the fabric made you wince and while you questioned if the money was even safe to spend you weren't really in a place to turn it down. Hell knows you didn't have enough money for the repairs, so you sucked it up and called some guys to attend to your sink and your window. You gave vague answers when asked about what happened and avoided eye contact when you produced the wads of cash to cover the bill; considering the humble state of your apartment you knew they left with more than a little suspicion about where you had managed to scrounge up the cash.

You didn't really care what a couple of repair guys thought of you and whatever types of wild fantasies they conjured in their heads though, you were never going to see them again.

The real question was whether or not you'd be seeing the merc that provided said financials again. Your parting had led you to believe you would, eventually. You got a stray text here and there and even a phone call that had barely gotten past you saying hello. You wanted to be cordial, feeling kinda guilty at how you'd acted during your fight; you were better than that. At least you hoped you were. Your therapist said you were. You just knew you didn't want every conversation with Wade from here on out to be both of you trying to dig deeper holes for each other and twisting daggers into each other's side with underhanded attacks and defensive comebacks.

You weren't the picturesque model of a happy, healthy relationship before but you'd never hurt each other on purpose; not with the kinds of venom you shared that night.

You were a two-person army against the world, both a little fucked up and broken and slotting against each other's puzzle pieces with some grit and grime holding you together. There had been love there, a lot of it. Even if Wade's main ways of showing it were through spam texts, wierd expensive gifts and sex. You could always feel it, in the way he held you; stood in front of you when there was danger. In the way he looked at you, even with his eyes hidden you could feel how he felt about you.

But that was gone now and you hated not knowing if it would ever come back.

You were back to being a stray dog baring your teeth with no one to watch your back; sort of. In typical Wade fashion you'd caught him several times, across streets, in the corner of cafe's; he always popped up. Keeping tabs on you, making sure you weren't being bothered. Before he'd just act like your shadow and distract you to the point you forgot what you were doing or where you were going. And you didn't care because you were happy to see him. Part of you was still happy to see him, see that he still cared and wanted you safe. Another part of you was upset that while it seemed half of his world still revolved around you he couldn't be bothered to try being a grown up and actually fixing what he broke.

Because it was on him. No matter what you said to yourself when your bed got too cold or the doubts that crept in when you showered alone got a bit too loud—Wade broke up with you. Made a big spectacle of it, made sure it hurt and that everyone heard it. He didn't run after you after you tossed his gun in his face and stormed off, he didn't crawl into the apartment that night apologising and explaining why he did what he did. So if he wanted back in he had to make the effort and you would…

Well, you were still making your mind up on that one.

If he put the time in your heart obviously wanted to let him back in, just the tiniest gesture and it would be skipping with joy. But your brain told you that you had to have some kind of self-respect and make it harder than that, something had to happen that would mark a new beginning for you both and prove you could have him in your life again. Prove that you could trust him not to hurt you amidst his self-sabotage.

But the more you thought on it the less likely that seemed. Wade never did much in the way of self improvement, sometimes it seemed like he needed to upend his whole life in order to take a few steps forward. But it was always a one step forward, three steps back situation. You could never figure out how to help him out of that loop and you could never agree it wasn't your job to do so.

Partners helped each other. When they're at their lowest or their highest, with little and big things. Two-person army and all that jazz.

You soon realised you'd been staring at the bathroom sink for ten minutes or so, mulling over Wade and your catastrophic relationship for the hundredth time and decided it was time for a walk. You tossed on a jacket and grabbed your wallet and keys, stuffing your phone in your pocket as you made you way out of your apartment. Part of you expected to see Wade waiting for you on the street but only strangers were there to greet you.

You shoved your hands into your pockets as you walked, trying to think about anything but Wade and quite frankly—failing miserably. He'd been your everything for two damn years you could hardly be blamed for thinking about him. You still hadn't wrapped your head around where he could have possibly gone to that made him think he wasn't coming back. Wade always came back, he was like a cockroach. Or… You really couldn't think of a positive example at the moment.

You had tried to ask once you'd calmed down, a few days after your heated encounter; you'd sent a few texts and he'd dodged the question. Like usual.

You swore he had less trouble getting his limbs crushed than he did being straightforward. But when you first met that had been something you both had in common, the difference was you'd worked on it some since then.

"Fucking hell…" You muttered under your breath, running your hands down your face as a familiar antsy feeling tingled through all of your limbs. You wanted to run, wanted to punch a wall into pieces of rubble and dust; you needed to do something to keep your mind occupied and body steady. Anything at all.

"Talking to yourself is my thing sugar buns, don't start copying me just because you miss me."

Your feet froze on the concrete and a firm chest collided with your back, a surprised intake of breath and large hands grasping your shoulders to steady both of you building up the waves of shock in your system. The shock soon faded and you jerked away from Wade's hands, afraid of the warmth and the way your body wanted to melt against him. You had to stay firm.

"I wasn't copying you, I was feeling sorry for myself," you turned to face him, "but I guess that's still copying you, huh?" you took him in; full suit on under a hoodie and jeans; like that was inconspicuous in any fucking way. You'd always thought it was cute in a wierd way, knowing it was from his insecurity however had always kept a slight pang of sympathy clouding everything else. Even now you thought back to last week when his face was on full display and you could follow valleys of pale scars and rivers and lakes of warped skin and red muscle. He was beautiful to you, even when you were angry at him you couldn't deny that.

But you knew the world saw him at face value, and he knew it too. His imperfections and more noticeable blemishes compared to a majority of the populous did not give him a high chance of landing on the cover of sexiest man alive.

You saw Wade's mouth shift under the red fabric, like he was about to say something but instead he ducked his head down and scoffed, thinking better of his first thought.

"It sure is, I expect nothing less from my ex-biggest fan." He churned the word 'ex' out like it was fire on his tongue, letting it land between the both of you and burn into the dirt. You wanted to correct him, as part of you hadn't given up on him and part of you hated the idea of ex being shoved in front of anything to do with you now. He also had no right to be so upset about it since, again, this was his fault. But then again, he was his biggest enemy and maybe the chipped tone was for himself and not you.

"Is this gonna turn into another thing or do you want to come get a drink with me and not act like dramatic teenagers during their first breakup?" You sighed, stepping back and gesturing to a café across the street from the park you'd been walking through. Wade paused, considering your proposal before shrugging.

"Fanfic authors sure do love their café scenes." He mused and had it been two years earlier you'd have scrunched your face up in confusion at the strange, out-of-nowhere sentence. But by now you were used to it, Wade was just like that—and possibly hooked into a part of the world you didn't have access to. You wouldn't be surprised considering the crazy shit that went on in his life and in tandem your own. Most of it was because of him and most of the time you didn't mind it.

Until you got shot or kidnapped, that was never fun—and absolutely not something either of you talked about after.

So communication had never been either of your strong suits, obviously, maybe that's why this whole shit show had gone so badly. Maybe when Wade plotted it out in his head it was with versions of the both of you that had figured out all the intricacies of civil and logical discussions. And maybe you were making up scenarios to make yourself feel better and give Wade an out again, like you always did.

You both sat down in the back, Wade dwarfing the café chair and you slipping into the booth with much more care. You looked through the menu, painfully aware of Wade's stare and not planning on ordering anything other than your comfort beverage.

"How's the sink?" Wade sounded nervous, or maybe just uncomfortable. Gloved hands toying the the salt and pepper shakers on the table as you flipped through the menu.

"Fixed. Don't know what it ever did to you by the way." You glanced up at him and his head rolled to the side, eyes no doubt fixed past you or up at the ceiling.

"It hit me first."

"Sure it did."

More silence. Only broken by a waiter coming up to your table with a bottle of water and two glasses, he poured your drinks and took your order. Wade was halfway through ordering an alcoholic beverage with too many steps when he realised this wasn't a bar, then he settled for a hot chocolate. You rolled your eyes, sipping your water to stop yourself from smiling.

"So… How have you been? Any good fucking riddance parties with the besties?"

"Wade." You snapped sharply and he held his hands up in immediate surrender.

"Okay, too soon. What have you been up to?" He lowered his hands back to the table and you could picture the almost bashful smile on his face, a mix of apologetic, amused and strained. You leaned back into the booth, he was trying. In his own way.

"You want the truth or the comfortable?" You asked and Wade's head bowed slightly; this was the question you both asked when everything was shit but you didn't want it to rub it off on the other. Oftentimes you chose comfortable, it was just easier to give the most vague answer and cuddle or fuck the problems away from your mind. Or go on a midnight binge at the local gas station, raiding it of its most treasured comfort snacks.

"Truth."

That, was surprising. Wade had never been a great listener, an excellent talker but that was common knowledge. You pulled your lips into a tight line before shrugging.

"Fuck all, waking up," Crying in the shower, " going to work, dealing with assholes, going home," crying while eating a shitty dinner, "going to bed feeling like shit—Rinse and repeat." You throw your hands out in a lazy jazz-hands motion before dropping them into your lap.

"I said truth." Wade's ever scratchy and course voice was soft in that moment and you paused. You couldn't tell him you'd been crying over him, your pride didn't want you to. You didn't want to. But you had a feeling he knew, somehow he always knew. Even if he never said anything, the spontaneous trips and gifts weren't always that spontaneous and you weren't an idiot.

"You stalk me half the fucking time I think you know the truth." You threw back, harsher than you'd meant to and Wade noded, not making any move to deny your claim. You wouldn't have believed him if he did anyway, he was purposefully letting you catch him. He wanted you to know when he was there, and you did. He was the only thing you saw when you did.

"I haven't left Al's apartment, besides when I… Need a walk." Need to see you, follow you from the shadows and refuse to even say hi, creep on you from the tree outside your apartment. All the things you heard and knew but he didn't say.

"So we're both being pathetic, good to know." You smiled, a stiff and unconvincing one as you glanced over at the barista working on your drinks.

Silence hung over you both again and it felt different to what you were used to. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't tense but it certainly wasn't pleasant. It was something new, something you really didn't like.

"I got shot into a black hole."

You blinked.

Wade stared.

"Uhm. You what now?" You leaned forward, brows furrowing as you shot him an incredulous glare. He held his hands out like he didn't know how to expand further than that before they dropped to the table in defeat. He knew you wouldn't accept those words alone, you needed it to make sense.

"The short condensed version is that I got offered a fuck ton of moolah to do a gig that led me to being up in the stars and getting bitch slapped into a swirly void of nothingness," Wade twirled his fingers in circles for empahsis, "No one promised they could get me out if that happened but they did." He shrugged and you watched him with a steely squint. He wasn't lying, you always knew when he was. He'd come back from worse but you supposed if his teleporter broke and whoever he was working with was as shady as the usual suspects—

"So that's why you broke up with me? Because you got a gig that sent you into a black hole?" You leaned back in your chair and Wade seemed to deflate minutely, as if he'd been expecting his brief explanation to fix everything.

His head drooped forward and he ran a hand over his masked face, the waiter dropped off your drinks and you barely bit out a thank you; not taking your eyes off of Wade. You realised, sitting here, you needed far more than an explanation and an apology. You needed action, you just weren't sure what kind and it didn't feel fair giving him a task you couldn't even think of. So you stayed quiet and let him think, because frankly you didn't know what else you could say that wouldn't derail into another hurtful fight.

"I thought I was gonna be floating up in a million itty bitty atom sized pieces, I didn't want you waiting around for me when you could be… Living. Happy." Wade spread his fingers out, before grabbing his hot cocoa and tugging his mask up just above his mouth so he could sip at it. He cursed when the hot liquid met his tongue and you didn't even have the energy to find it funny.

"How much?"

"Huh?" His tongue hung out of his mouth, adding to the dumb, questioning noise as he looked back at you.

"How much was breaking up with me worth? A million? Five? What's the price tag on our relationship Wade I'm real curious."

"That's not—Can we not—"

"You—" You half stand in frustration before sitting down quickly and glancing around the café, covering your mouth as you feel those stupid tears biting at your tear ducts again.

"You've gone on so many gigs and died I don't know how many fucking times, in ways no one thought you could come back from and none of those times did you feel like ditching me so I could have whatever your version of a happily ever fuckin' after is." You snapped, voice hushed as you leer over the table at him. He flinched back, obviously off-put by the water building in your eyes but he recovered after a moment; meeting you in the middle, torso half over the table.

"This was different." He hissed and being able to see his bared teeth only served to ignite that deep irritation within your chest.

"How?" You exaggerated the 'o', holding the vowel as you waited for him to finally give you the answer you needed to hear.

But Wade never made it that easy.

"It just was!"

"That's not good enough." You fell back into the booth and glared into your drink, you wouldn't storm out and cause another scene. If anyone was getting embarrassed it would be him, he could be a diva and run away from you if he wanted but you weren't going to budge. But of course his stubbornness mirrored your own and you both remained in your seats, whispers and glances being thrown at your table as everyone got a kick out of your spiralling relationship.

You should have just just kept fucking walking.

End notes: Forgot to mention this'll be updating every Saturday AEST! Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you think of this part! I really love writing Wade in conflict, just continuously going down a hill in every way possible. <3

[derelictlovefool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4.5k

read on ao3!

The sun was way too fucking bright. Dean squeezed his eyes tighter as if that would protect him from the rays seeping through the curtains. It didn't have much effect other than making his eyes hurt. He buried his face away into the pillow under him, abruptly tossing his head back as he landed in a damp spot.

"What the fu…" He groaned, realisation dawned on him as he wiped his face. He'd drooled, real nice. He rolled onto his back as he tried to wipe his face clean on his sleeve, dropping his hand back to the mattress when he figured he'd gotten most of it. He heaved a sigh, feeling the heaviness of sleep slowly leave each limb as he laid there. He had a small throbbing in his forehead and really hoped he hadn't ended up with a hangover, he didn't have that much to drink—as far as he could remember.

He was hesitant to sit, but pulled himself up slowly. Sure enough the pain in his forehead flooded the rest of his brain the moment he was upright and he groaned, covering his face with his hands. This is why he didn't drink, stupid hangovers. He lifted his head after a moment of trying to will the pain away, glancing around the room and spotting a door to what he assumed was a small bathroom. He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, standing with some effort and stretching until he felt that satisfying pop between his shoulder blades. His body ached even more than it had yesterday and he shuffled across the floor to the bathroom, shrugging off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants as he went.

The shower in the bathroom was cramped but he could care less, he was just happy to be under warm water and scrubbing the grime off his skin. He didn't allow himself to stay under the stream long after he was clean, not wanting to waste any resources unnecessarily. They would no doubt get more people flooding the town in search of safety and they'd need every last drop of gas they could get. Dean grabbed the towel conveniently hanging on the towel rack, drying himself off and staring down at his dirty clothes with disdain.

He tried the closet in the corner, rummaging around and finding a clean pair of underwear and socks. A knock on the door stopped him from pulling on the blood and dirt covered jeans he'd picked off the ground, giving him pause as he swiveled around to look at the wood grain. His movements were too fast and he winced at the spike of pain in his temple.

"Deputy, you awake yet?" Mary May's voice came through the door, muffled and sounding like she could use some shut eye herself. Did she get any sleep last night?

"Yeah, yeah I'm up." He called back, stepping closer to the door to hear her better.

"Got some clothes for you, from the lost and found box. You'd be surprised how many people strip in here and just leave their shit." She continued and Dean had to laugh at the mental image of half naked drunk patrons in the bar and also the convenience of it all. Maybe today wouldn't be as shit as yesterday, maybe whatever omnipotent being there was looking down on them would be nice to him for once.

"Thanks, you didn't have too."

"Yeah I know, I'll leave 'em by the door for you. We got some stuff to talk about before you head off so don't run off right away alright?" Mary May replied with a smile in her voice, he heard the shuffling of clothes being put on the floor. Dean nodded, despite the woman not being able to see him.

"Yeah, got it. Thanks again." He leant against the door frame, chucking the dirty jeans to the side as he spoke. Mary May gave the other side of the door a firm pat before he heard her walk off down the stairs. He waited for another second before opening the door and picking up the pile of clothes. He picked whatever fit, landing on a Cougars t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He had been hoping for a jacket but he'd have to make do without, it wouldn't kill him either way. He pulled on his boots and tucked his dirty clothes into a pile on a chair by the door—he doubted he'd be getting to do any laundry for a while.

Blair sat at one of the tables and waved at him as he came down the stairs, he waved back before abruptly reeling back as a guy rushed by hurriedly with his hands full of boxes. Upon further inspection he noted a few other patrons idling around, it seemed a few people had made their way to Fall's End during the night. That was good, the more manpower the better. Mary May waved him over once she caught his eye and he meandered over to the bar.

"Mornin' sunshine, how's your head?" Mary May greeted with a knowing smile after spotting him wince at the lights. He chuckled and took a seat, sighing heavily and running a hand through his damp hair.

"Hurts a bit but nothin' I can't handle." He said, resting his hands on his knees and ignoring the fact every sound was just that bit louder than it should be.

"I have a special hangover cure I can whip up if you want?" Mary May offered, resting a hand on her hip and studying Dean's face. He paused, weighing up the offer before deflating slightly. It was that or suffer all day—well, more than he was already about to.

"Yeah okay."

"Okay," she stepped back and began grabbing bottles from behind the counter, setting a glass in front of Dean. As she disappeared into the kitchen to get some other mystery ingredients the front door opened, Jerome walking in—Boomer skittering through his legs and beelining for Dean.

"Good morning deputy, get any sleep?"

"I did," Dean looks over the eyebags on the other man's face with a small sympathetic smile, "doesn't look like you got any." He muses, reaching down to scratch under Boomer's chin. The dog's tail wagged at the speed of a propeller and the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth was almost cute enough to distract Dean from his headache.

"I'll sleep when this is all over, don't worry about me. What we need to be worrying about is checking on our people." Jerome replied, walking over to sit beside Dean. He patted his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before letting his hand fall. Dean noted he had his bible in his other hand, clutched to his chest protectively. It must have brought him a lot of comfort, Dean envied him for having something like that.

He nodded, head bowing back down to the bar as he took a second to actually take in Jerome's words. Mary May came back, cracking an egg into the glass smoothly as well as something else he couldn't recognise. She chuckled at his expression as he clearly paled at the thought of swallowing a raw egg. He'd done it in the past, who hadn't at least once, but still; not a great taste. She slid the glass toward him, full of her apparent mystery hangover cure that didn't look totally awful despite the raw egg and mystery ingredient.

"Uh, thanks…" He took it, watching Mary May as if to check if she was playing a prank—she wasn't. She smiled expectantly and Dean decided chugging it was the best course of action, he took a small breath and threw it back. It was cold, which was nice, but the taste left a lot to be desired. Once he was finished he scrunched his face up at the aftertaste, Jerome and Mary May failed to hide their laughter. It was nice to hear, even if it was at his expense.

"Uhm ta—" he coughs, the taste still on his tongue, "—talking about our people… Dutch told me John has my partner Joey and that you folks might be able to help me get her back." He gets the words out, voice smoothing out by the end of it. His headache wasn't instantly cured like he'd hoped for but there was a small sensation of relief. He also noted how odd it felt to talk about John, his name sticking to his tongue like a bad taste. The last time he'd said his name was when he was younger and he'd been teasing Jacob for being such a softie around his brothers. He had been talking about a much different boy back then.

Jerome and Mary May shot each other a look as he slid the glass back to the bartender, shaking the thought away. He didn't need any random reminiscing today. Their reactions weren't promising but he tried not to assume the worst. Dean pursed his lips into a thin line as Mary May let out a long sigh and rested both hands on the bar. Again, not a great sign.

"I get you want your partner back deputy, but we don't have enough man power to take on John Seed just yet. We need to spread out, help our people where we can and build up to that." She reasoned, gaze firm as she spoke.

Dean frowned, hands falling to his knees. He got where she was coming from, but that didn't stop it from being frustrating to high hell. He was just one deputy, he needed his team to function here. The people who had been doing this job for longer and actually knew their way around the County. Jerome reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and the gesture was far less comforting this time around.

"As soon as we have enough people, we will get your partners back, that is a promise deputy. But there are people that need us right now and we'll need all hands on deck." Jerome squeezed Dean's shoulder with his last few words and he nodded. It was hard to swallow, knowing he'd have to leave Joey, Staci and Lola to fend for themselves… It wasn't like he had much of a choice here though. He needed these people, without them he had no support and he'd get gunned down before he could even reach Joey.

He was only one guy and without the guidance or backup from the locals he was kind of screwed. His only option was to work with them and hope they stayed true to their word and that his team wouldn't kick the bucket before they got around to getting them away from the Seeds. This was a game of trust and luck, neither things that came easy to Dean. But what else could he do?

"Okay then," he let out a deep breath, "where do we start?"

Dean cut the ties around one of the hostages wrists, glancing to the side and spotting his newly gained helping hand Grace Armstrong. He'd gotten himself lost again despite Mary May and Blair's directions and picked up a distress call from her. The church her old man was buried at had been under fire from peggies and he'd stopped to help, it didn't feel right to ignore it after he'd heard it. The graves had gotten a bit messed up but not totally irreparable and Grace had agreed to tag along with him as thanks for his help, which he appreciated. She was skilled with her sniper and she was quiet on her feet, which was coming in handy here.

Grace untied another hostage across the way and gave him a firm nod as they locked eyes. There were only two left and then they were done here and no peggies had been taken out lethally which eased some of the weight on Dean's chest. He hadn't asked Grace to follow his non-lethal take downs but she'd seemed to have just chosen to follow his lead and pull peggies into bushes in a mirrored fashion to how he had anyway. He appreciated it, he'd heard enough snapping bones and gunshots for a lifetime.

After helping the hostage to a safer place he crouch walked to meet up with Grace, stopping beside her in some tall grass. There were four peggies left, one sitting on a stack of hay and playing guitar with another sitting in front of them and listening serenely. The other two marched around the church their hostages were in, all very out in the open and not as conveniently hidden as the others had been.

"What's the plan?" Grace asked in a whisper, her eyes calculating as she scoped out the scene. Dean didn't have one but he couldn't say that so he sucked in a breath through his teeth and rolled his shoulders.

"You get the ones at the church, I'll get wonderwall."

Grace snorted, which surprised Dean as well as herself it seemed. She glanced back at him before clearing her throat and pulling her cap down a fraction to hide her face. He admitted thinking she didn't laugh had probably been a rude assumption but her demeanor up until now had been pretty stoic. Well, good to know anyway. Mediocre jokes were back on the table and he'd be sure to toss them her way—when appropriate. A badly time joke might get a different reaction he didn't want to see.

"Got it, should be quick." She muttered, pushing herself up and staying low as she began to loop around to the church on the right side of the small clearing. Dean smiled, he missed that sort of thing. Funny little awkward interactions, it was never something he thought he'd miss but he really did. It was nice to watch someone get a little flustered over something small and inconsequential, given the circumstances. Not that he missed being the flustered one though, that he'd avoid for a while longer.

He copied her swiftness, making his way to the opposite side of the church to sneak up on guitar guy and his audience of one. This would be a little tricky but if he and Grace were as in sync as they had been so far it would be quick and easy. He'd just take down guitar guy, avoid getting shot and take out the other one hopefully around the time Grace is done with her two. Easy.

In theory.

Dean's limbs weren't as cooperative as they had been yesterday and he was sloppy. He jumped out from his hiding spot, hit the guitar playing peggie over the head and watched the shock and horror wash over the other peggie's face. Immediately she was standing and throwing herself at Dean, he moved back but her hand wrapping around the fabric of his shirt and his foot getting caught on something threw him off balance. Before he knew it he was on his back with the ache in his head doubled and the peggie's hands wrapped around his neck.

She shouted at him, spittle hitting his cheeks as she went red in the face from how ferociously she damned his soul. He floundered for a moment, dazed by the impact, before one hand wrapped around her wrist and the other searched the dirt around him. His breathing was being cut short, the pressure on his jugular cutting off airflow and causing him to gasp uselessly like a fish out of water. His hand hit something hard and he didn't think, he wrapped around it and brought it down on her temple as hard as he could from his position.

The peggie shouted in pain and recoiled, hands slipping away from his throat and allowing him to suck in deep, needy breaths. He followed her as he gasped for air, noting the deep red blood pooling down the side of her face. His stomach curdled at the sight but he pushed forward, using his weight to knock her to the side and wrapping his arm around her neck. Now it was her turn to claw at his arm and gasp for breath, except her hands were covered in her own blood and slipped uselessly off his arm as they could find no real purchase.

It took a minute but she fell limp and as he laid her down gently he heard multiple sets of footsteps behind him. He turned, spotting Grace and the hostages walking up to him; the three men looking more than a little shaken up. He stood, ignoring the way his forearms were now coated in blood. She was still alive, it was just a small head wound, it was okay.

It didn't feel okay.

"We gotta escort these folks outta here real quick dep, a bunch of peggies are gonna be on our asses real soon." Grace told him, adjusting her vest as she began walking past him.

"Wha— Why's that?" He asked, falling in step with her despite his confusion. They'd barely made any noise how would anyone know they were here?

"They were coming to get these three ready for John's baptisms. We got here just in time but we gotta get a move on." Grace was firm in her words, sounding like the seasoned vet she was. Dean shut his mouth and decided it best to just follow along with no more questions. Baptisms? Was John qualified to do that? Dean didn't know much about baptists but he was sure you needed a fancy piece of paper or a blessing from the pope to do that or something. Yeah, he had no idea.

John had never liked church when they were younger, what had cha—Wait. No more reminiscing. Right. Dean cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead as they trekked through the parse woods.

The small group made it over a hill, Grace all but leading the charge as they beelined for the river. Dean hadn't signed up for swimming today but the thought of getting the blood off of his arms was very appealing. And as he came in contact with the cool water he felt an amazing rush of energy course through his tired limbs. As they waded further into the river he washed the sticky liquid off of his arms, glancing back at Grace and the three men before focusing ahead of him.

They were almost in the clear.

Almost.

A gunshot, a splash of water and a sharp yell shattered the relief. Dean's body tensed as bullets rained into the water, Grace was quick to raise her sniper and put down the two peggies shooting at them from the other side but his heart was already hammering in his chest.

"Okay, move it or lose it!" He shouted back at the three men, pushing into the deeper water until he had to start swimming. He was clumsy in the water, he always had been, even the three panicking men got ahead of him. Grace helped him out at the other side, both of them ducking as another wave of bullets poured out of the tree line. Dean pulled Grace behind a boulder, the three men ducking behind different trees. Grace jumped back up, perching her sniper on the boulder and firing off some more shots.

The other gunshots stopped and Grace tapped his shoulder, a signal to move. He swiveled out from the boulder and moved forward, the three men on his tail and Grace right behind them as they continued toward their destination. Dean didn't really have a good sense of where that destination was but one of the men took the lead and set them on the right track. Dean followed closely, glancing around to check for any other peggies as they made their way through a trail.

Distant shouts dug their way into his bones and if it weren't for the adrenaline in his veins he would have ducked down and run in the opposite direction. As he watched the direction the shouts came from he ran into one of the three men who had stopped short on the trail. Dean's mouth opened to ask why but he paused as he looked over the three men's shoulders. A brown bear stood in front of the small group, black, beady eyes staring right back at him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not good. Very not good.

Dean reeled back enough to bump into Grace who grabbed his shoulder with a bruising grip, dark eyes urging him to get his shit together. He swallowed the lump in his throat, mind fraying as the bear reared onto it's back legs. The three men immediately scrambled and sent the bear into attack mode. Dean and Grace fled into opposite directions, Grace following two of the men while Dean followed the one left. They didn't make it far before familiar symbols emerged from the tree, dirty faces and guns coming into view.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Dean cursed, grabbing the civilian and pulling him behind a tree. Gunshots and the bear's angry roar mingled together in the air, all paled by the loudness of Dean's heartbeat in his eardrums. The peggies angry shouting turned to frightened screams and Dean dared to peer around the tree, spotting the bear jumping on two peggies and taking them down. Not wanting to test his luck he yanked the civilian back in the direction they ran, hopefully they could take advantage of the distraction and get out of there.

"I'll follow you, move!" Dean said, shoving the guy in front of him and urging him to lead. And he did so clumsily, glancing back as he ran and Dean wasn't sure if he was checking if he was still there or if the bear had followed after them. He wasn't about to check for the latter, he kept his gaze forward. Relief bloomed in him as he spotted Grace and the other two civilians, up ahead on the trail. Grace glanced back and nodded once she saw him, something of a hint of a smile on her face.

They all continued forward as the horrified screams died out and the bears roars were the only thing heard. They'd put enough distance between them now that hopefully it wouldn't follow them and even if it did Dean's job was done once these guys got wherever they were going. And that very destination was not as far as he'd thought, he almost ran through it before Grace caught the crook of his elbow. He swiveled around and screwed his face up in confusion, heart still hammering in his chest and mind still reeling from the close bear encounter.

"What?" He asks through shallow breaths, "This is it?" Dean didn't mean to sound so judgey but after having a near death experience it just made the small camp feel like an insult. He almost got attacked by a bear and shot by peggies for this? No wonder they got kidnapped, there was nothing here to defend! Grace had a similar exasperated expression but dimly shook her head, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

"It's not much but it's been a good base camp, we really appreciate you helpin' us out." One of the men stepped forward to offer his gratitude to Dean and he forced his mouth into a polite smile.

Awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Very cool.

He nodded and looked back at Grace, who seemed to be the only one picking up on his irritation and she offered a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. Her chest was still heaving from the panicked run they'd all jumped into but she kept her calm facade up as she glanced back from where they came from.

"What's gonna stop peggies from stopping in and getting you again?" He couldn't help but ask, looking back at the three men; he didn't want to be saving the same three people over and over again. Or worse save them only for them to get killed an hour later. That would create a small crack in his ever thinning patience and resolve for sure.

"The peggies didn't find us at our camp they got us while we were oit hunting, we can hold down the fort here deputy don't you worry!" One of the men wearing a Cougars cap saluted him, which would have been funny if Dean hadn't felt like he'd aged ten years in the span of five minutes.

"Okay," Dean took a calming breath, "stay safe." He offered, stepping around to Grace and watching the men busy themselves with re-arming and reloading their weapons. He just had to accept this, if he didn't he'd have a hernia.

"Will do!"

"Gotcha!"

"You got it dep."

Grace patted his shoulder as he began walking back down the hill in the opposite direction of where the bear was, falling into step with him as they walked. They both kept eyeing the trees, paranoid of running into the grizzly again. Grace allowed for a moment of breathing room, silence draping over them for a moment as their fraying nerves slowly fell back into line. But not completely.

"It may not feel like much," she muttered, "but in the bigger picture this was worth it. We just saved three lives. That's not nothing." Grace spoke as if reading his mind and he sighed, clenching his shaking hands in attempts to stop the trembling. She was right. This was something, three less people for Eden's Gate to torture. Three less names on the list of people he wasn't able to help. It felt good—just anticlimactic. All that build up for a tiny camp barely hidden away with a chance either the peggies or bear would find them with barely any effort.

Well, he and Grace had done their part here and there was nothing more they could do. There were plenty more people in need of help right now—more people Jerome and Mary May had advised he check on. He couldn't help but muse that having Grace around might make the wrong turns happen a lot less.

"You feel like tagging along a little longer?" He asked once his breathing had evened out and they trudged through denser trees and foliage at the base of the mountains. It didn't hurt to ask. He kept his eyes forward and could just make out a small house tucked away in the trees, if it weren't half burnt down it might have made for a nice shelter for the night. He spotted Grace giving a firm nod at his proposal from his peripheral.

"For as long as you need me dep." She replied, patting his shoulder blades, a gesture that felt solid and like a promise in its own right. He wasn't sure she meant it, but if she did then he was glad. Having her steady presence made that last encounter just a bit easier.

[derelictlovefool]

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Author: Achilles, he/him & they/them pronouns

Status: Hobbyist, low writing activity

Writing: OC x Canon, Reader Insert, Original Fiction

Requests/Suggestions: Open

note: i'm a full time student so any requests I get will be done when and if I have time and they spark my interest!

Active in regards to fandoms & characters simply means most enthused about and interested in writing, inactive means least interested in writing but still willing if the idea sparks my creativity.

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active | inactive | semi active

Far Cry 5 | Supernatural | The Last of Us | Marvel | DC | Doctor Who | Sweeney Todd | The Witcher | Dying Light 2 | Z Nation | Inkheart | Bridgerton | Slashers | Outlast | Resident Evil | Overwatch | Undertale/Deltarune | Ib | Motor Crush | The Arcana

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active | inactive | semi active

Faith Seed | John Seed | Joseph Seed | Jacob Seed | Sharky Boshaw | Hurk Drubman Jr | Adelaide Drubman | Jerome Jeffries | Mary May Fairgrave | Eli Palmer | Grace Amestrong | Joey Hudson | Staci Pratt

Dean Winchester | Sam Winchester | Castiel | Charlie Bradbury ||| Joel | Tess ||| Wade Wilson | Tony Stark | Pepper Potts | Bucky Barnes | Steve Rodgers | Thor Odinson | Bruce Banner | Natasha Romanoff | Clint Barton ||| Harley Quinn

The Doctor (4, 9-15) | Jack Harkness | Rose Tyler | Donna Noble ||| Sweeney Todd | Mrs Lovett ||| Geralt of Rivera | Jaskier/Dandelion | Yennefer of Vennenberg ||| Hakon | Aiden | Lawan | Frank ||| Alvin Murphy | Roberta Warren | Addison Carver | Cassandra | Sarge | George St Claire

Mo | Dustfinger ||| Penelope Featherington | Benedict Bridgerton | Anthony Bridgerton | Colin Bridgerton | Eloise Bridgerton | Violet Bridgerton | Kate Sharma | Edwina Sharma ||| Jason Voorhees | Michael Myers | Bubba Sawyer | Brahms Heelshire | Thomas Hewitt

Eddie Gluskin ||| Ethan Winters | Karl Heisenberg | Alcina Dimitrescu | Donna Benniviento | Slavator Monreau | Mia Winters | Chris Redfield | Leon Kennedy | Ada Wong | Claire Redfield

Jack Morrison | Gabriel Reyes | Cole Cassidy | Genji Shimada | Hanzo Shimada | Mei ||| Sans | Papyrus | Asgore | Undyne | Mettaton | Queen ||| Gary ||| Calax Gothard | Domino Swift | Lola Del Carmen | Sonoya Vernilion ||| Asra | Nadia | Dorian | Portia | Muriel

OC's: David Thorn (Slasher), Z (God Symbiote), Xander (Robot)

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Tropes I enjoy writing:

Variations of the Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers | Childhood Friends | Neighbour across the hall/street | Mutual Pining | Devotion and Obsession | Making each other worse | Making each other better | Romance in Violence | Ride or Die Friends | Royal Guard/Gardener x Royalty | Crime Boss x Bodyguard | Dog Coded x Cat Coded | Fuck Love Triangles Make it Poly | Fake Dating | Meet Cute and more!

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— male/trans/enby/gn!reader (I'm here for the guys and gays)

— oc x canon, oc x oc, canon x canon, reader x canon, reader x oc

— sfw & nsfw

— platonic, queer-platonic, romantic, familial, etc.

— headcannons, one-shots, multi-parts

— AU's, crossovers

— gore, violence, toxic relationships, death/angst

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— fem!reader (There's thousands out there already y'know)

— genderbends

— pregnancy related topics

— self harm topics

— incest, paedophilia, zoophilia, necrophilia and any of that nasty crap

— non-con

— infidelity

— Characters I really don't know or care about </3

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​​🇴​​🇧​​🇴​​🇷​​🇴​​🇸​—⨾❝

— 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥; 𝐚 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩.

Pairing/s: Wade W. Wilson x GN!reader

Notes: My depiction of Wade here aligns with early comic Wades personality aka he's an asshole and not qiuping every other sentence, this is angst central with no happy ending (yet) so keep that in mind. Pre-established relationship, reader really likes saying fuck (Check notes for a playlist to listen to as u read)

Warning/s: Canon typical behaviour, Deadpool typical body horror, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, bad breakup, co-dependency, explicit language, Wade breaks into your apartment, vandalism

Words: 2.7k

Normally shattered glass covering the ground and the bent out of shape window frame would have warranted a call to the police or some semblance of panic; what came over you upon seeing it however was close to indifference and even a twinge of anger. The hulking form draped in red and black sat on your couch offered another string of emotions; hurt, longing, a deep, unyielding resentment. You walked into your kitchenette without a word, even as that hulking form twisted and you could feel that familiar, heavy gaze on you. You started putting away your groceries and were left alone for one blissful minute before the sound of leather and boots scuffing against the hardwood floor caught your ears.

A heavy sigh was followed by a call of your name, scratchy and raw and more gargled than usual; Wade's voice was pitiful and small in contrast to his intimidating form hovering right behind you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, feel his breath fan over your skin and you frowned, face scrunching up as you felt tears well up along your waterline. You didn't want to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to see you were hurt.

That's how your relationship had always been, hidden and closed off—never giving the other a chance to see they had been hurt. Always skirting around responsibility and accountability and stuffing it away in the overloaded closet until it all couldn't fit and your collective issues came flooding out like a tidal wave; taking you both down with it. A gloved hand brushed your elbow and you threw it back harshly, just missing his ribs as you spun around and glared up at him with all the malice you could muster.

His mask was off, a rare occurrence as he hated others seeing his face; not even you, his partner of two years, were an exception to this. But here he stood, the protective barrier clutched in one hand and the other flinching back like he'd been stung by a bee. His blue eyes were surrounded by red, and he had dark bags under his eyes that sunk and moulded against his marred skin. His mouth hung open, twisted lips, teeth and exposed gum leading to patches of exposed muscle and cartridge on full display as you took in his hurt expression. The fact made you even angrier. Like he had the right to be hurt after what he'd done, like he wasn't in full control of the choices he'd made.

"You broke my window." You chewed out through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring and you try to keep yourself calm. You wanted nothing more than to beat your hands against his strong chest and tell him to crawl back to purgatory where Death could maybe finally keep him there. But maybe that was a bit too cruel and if you said that you'd most likely regret it immediately. Much like the words you'd spat at him a month ago—but you were both like that. Impulsive and quick to toss out hurtful words in defence of yourselves, never thinking long enough on what your words would do to the other. Never thinking much at all.

Wade nodded slowly, turning to the window and pursing the half of his lips capable of doing so.

"You changed the locks." He said, as if he was saying something as casual as you forgot to bring home a certain grocery. Not that he ever helped with that. You scoffed and he winced at the harsh sound, turning to look at you as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, usually people take that as a sign they're not welcome not an invitation to fucking break in Wade." You threw an arm out exasperated and Wade glanced up at the roof to avoid your heated gaze.

"So… The kicking me out thing was serious?"

What?

Was he fucking serious?

"What did you expect, Wade? You—" broke my heart, but you weren't about to say that out loud; the words got stuck in your throat as his eyes burned into you. You refused to let him see you so weak, refused to let him see how truly broken up you were about what he did.

"I didn't think you'd stop talking to me." He muttered and you had to laugh, a twisted sound that was nothing like it usually was; full of disbelief and rightful fury. You knew he was insane on his best days but this was something else.

"What the fuck do you mean, you didn't think I'd stop talking to you?" Your hands shook as you held them up by your face, "Did you expect me to say it was fucking fine that you tossed me out like mouldy cheese and let you keep living with me like we were fucking fine?" Your hands flew down to your hips before coming back to cover the bottom of your face. You searched his eyes and his face and while albeit a part of him looked guilty there was that part of him that was steely and rigid, always sticking to his guns even when they were wedged 6 feet in quicksand. It was that part of him that kept you angry, that part that let you know you had to stand firm because otherwise he'd deny any liability to the hurt he caused and all blame would somehow be shifted to you.

You weren't gonna let that happen.

"I warned you a long time ago—"

"Yeah you did and I should have fucking listened." You snarled back, cutting him off and shoving the accusatory finger pointed at you away and instead jabbing your own into his chest. "I should have taken your warning that you were an asshole on your best days and a fucking monster on your worst and I should have run for the fucking hills, but I thought you loved me." Even saying that word made bile rise in your throat now and you saw something flash across his eyes when you did. His own look of frustration fading in that second to something vulnerable, honest; but it quickly got twisted again as his scars scrunched together and shaped into a look of his own petty resentment.

"Well there it is, should'a guessed. How long have you felt that way huh?" He tilted his head back, his tone righteous as if he'd found you out in a lie, "What made you stay so long if you were so done with me, huh? Pity?" He bared his teeth, falling back on his usual dickish defence of being imposing and gnarled, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking it off of him. But you had never been scared of him, only for him. Right now though—right now you almost hated him.

"Don't try to dance around the fucking point, did you even care about me or was I just a bed to sleep in and free food to eat? A punching bag when no one else wanted to deal with you? What?" You pressed and Wade frowned, his grip on you staying firm as you both got caught up in this whirlwind of emotions. The air around you was hot with electricity, all your frustrations and fears out in the open and acting like pinpricks on your skin.

"You should never have been with me, we both agree on that so what does it matter?" He lowered his head and for a moment your heart twisted and that part of you that always wanted to comfort him cried out; told you to grab his face in your hands and cradle him to your chest. But you had to ignore it right now or the cycle you two were stuck in would just start up again.

"It matters to me Wade, because I loved you for two fucking years and I gave you everything I had and never got that back and I want to know if I was just an oblivious fucking idiot and you were the world's most manipulative asshole in the world or…" Or what? Or he just had a knack for fucking up every relationship he had no matter how invested in it he was? You'd seen that first hand, him pushing away everyone and everything that meant a damn to him. He'd tried it with you in far less aggressive and humiliating ways in the past and you thought that was as far as he'd ever go.

You thought you were special, that you meant more and that he couldn't ever truly be that cruel to you.

But you were wrong and you just needed to know how much. If he was an unforgivable asshole who used you, you could throw him out the window now, mourn the one-sided relationship and get over it eventually. If it was another one of his self destructive moments where he decided you were better off without him and he was determined to isolate himself then well… Well maybe this time you just had to leave, for yourself. Even if you could forgive him, how many more times could you let him break you and build you back up?

Wade was silent, staring at you hard as he seemed to think over what he wanted to say—the first time ever in his whole career. His grip on your wrist loosened as you held steady, not shying away from his intense gaze. He let out a sigh, ragged and shaking the mountain of his shoulders; an earthquake bringing down the sky as he sagged in front of you.

"This is a mess, I shouldn't have come." He dodged the question once again and the adrenaline coursing within you charged you forward, breaking his hold on you and grabbing hold of the straps on his chest to bring him down to eye level.

"Answer, the fucking—question."

"I am a manipulative asshole," your heart sank to your stomach, "but I never lied to you. You're everything I wanted and more than I deserved." your insides churned every which way, a sudden gust of exhaustion weighed your body down and you let him go; leaning back against the kitchen counter and sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Why did it always have to be so hard? Why couldn't anything between you ever be easy?

When times were good they were good but when they were bad they were always colossally fucking atrocious.

"I had to go away and I did't think I was comin' back this time so I figured if we broke up it wouldn't be as bad for you." Wade stepped back, leaning against the island and gripping the edges firmly, his mask still tucked away in one hand. You could tell he was itching to put it back on, his head dipped down and turned away from you now as he decided to cut the shit and be honest. But what was he expecting you to say? To do? What did he want from this? He couldn't be so delusional that he was envisioning a happy ending here.

"And now what? You didn't die," Not that, that was ever really permanent for him so it had to be something else you didn't care to ask about right now, "so now we go back to how it was? We kiss and make up and act like none of this happened, none of what you just said was said?" He shook his head at your words and finally it all became too much, he pulled the mask over his head and Deadpool hid Wade Wilson behind a protective wall; one where he didn't have to be a human in a difficult relationship that he made complicated. Where he didn't have to pick up the pieces; but you still did.

"Nah, I think we both made it pretty clear what happens now," he stepped out of the kitchenette, "You go back to being normal and find someone worth a damn and I go back to being cannon fodder for anyone with enough wads of cash." His boots crunched over broken glass, his body hiding the small broken window from your view.

"That's not fucking fair Wade." You snapped at his back, seeing his head duck down as another sigh wracked his shoulders; this time full of frustration and fraying at the edges.

"What the fuck do you want from me here? You want me to go and never talk to you again, I'll do that." He swung a leg back, so he was facing the wall between you and the window. He throws a hand behind him, gesturing outside before letting it fall against his leg uselessly.

You felt torn, your therapist's voice nagging you to tell him that was exactly what you wanted. So you could finally be you without him, if you could even remember who you were without him. This month had been long and hard and everyone around you had noticed the shift. Maybe you both needed time to remember yourselves, if Wade ever knew himself at all.

"You can't move back in," he turned and lifted one foot to the window, "but I don't… not want to ever see you again." The words stung and you felt your past self screaming at you from their anguished spot on the bathroom floor, where they'd sworn against your very words. You were tired and even the short conflict between you had worn you out, this had been much higher stakes than all your previous fights. Even if it was much quicker and ending on a far more unstable and unsure note.

You hated it, this whole situation was fucked.

Wade paused, both hands on the frame as he stared out at the city.

"So we're on talking terms again?"

"You didn't even try to call—yes." You bit your tongue, not wanting this to go around in circles forever and you conceded with a small nod. Watching as his jaw tensed under the mask and he nodded as well. Another beat of stuffy silence filled your apartment and you watched as Wade fully stepped onto the window frame and hung half out of your apartment.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

The words are like being ducked in an ice bath, your whole body going rigid as Wade refused to face you. That's all you wanted to hear from the very beginning and he fucking said it right before letting go of the ledge and disappearing from your view. So many things swept through you and carried you to the window, grabbing onto the frame without worrying about the glass shards still poking out of the wood. He wasn't anywhere on the street below, not in the road or any car you could peer into. You felt the clog in your throat swelling and an ugly sob tore through you and you cursed into the air, punching the wood frame and shouting in an attempt to get rid of some of the enormity of feelings within you.

Your knees hit the floor and you didn't flinch at the sting of glass digging into you, your shoulders rising and falling rapidly as tears fell down your cheeks and to the floor. Of course it was only after he left you could let yourself cry, wishing he'd led with those words instead of the other bullshit that came out of his mouth. Then maybe you could have stuffed down everything else and had a much different conversation.

Through your angry sniffles and hiccups you felt a vibration in your pocket and tugged out your phone clumsily, a feeling you knew exactly who it'd be stinging the back of your eyes. Your screen flashed to life and the text waiting for you laughed in utter mockery, proving you right.

'I'll pay for the window

and the sink.'

The sink? The kitchen sink was fine— Your shoulders sagged and you dragged your tired body to your small bathroom, spotting ceramic in pieces across the floor through blurry eyes and you bit out a watery laugh. It would almost be funny if it didn't hurt so damn bad. Knowing he was hurting too didn't help.

It didn't help at all.

And now you had a broken window and a broken sink.

Fuck; just, fuck.

End notes: If you liked this and would like to see more please let me know! I know everyone's hyped over movie!Wade right now but I hope some people out there can appreciate comic!Wade with me in all of his self-destructive glory. Thanks for reading, see you in the next one! <3

[derelictlovefool]

this is for the reader insert enjoyers

[derelictlovefool]

Musings-of-a-lovesick-fool 》 derelictlovefool