#Deadpool Tag

[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

[echidnana]

it is kind of hilarious how wade fits so easily into All dynamics. like even though us from E-414 (an alternate m.arvel timeline we have headmates from) don't feel very connected to any 616 marvel stuff wade feels so familiar . like he's just There

[iri-desky]

Hello Deadpool and Wolverine fandom

I'd like to bring this golden post back in light of the Honda Odyssey scene

[tio-trile]

Some Deadpool x Wolverines for my friend

[godsplatter]

freak: MATCHED

[nonbinarylesbianherb]

how it felt watching the wolverine/deadpool honda odyssey “fight” scene

[virijuol]

how can you be a wolverine fan and not also be a multishipper? that man is a WHORE

[mimicben]

The proposal~

My other cheesy romcom Deadpool 3 drawings are here

[otto-doctavius]

domesticated animal

[k7ino]

my pet worms named puppy dog and kitty kat

[nocek]

And we all should be jelly.

(at least Miguel is so maybe they are closer to that dumb triangle than Wade thought XD)

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​-⦂❝

— 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! :)

[yukio4]

HELP BROTHER IS FLIRTING HARD

[kazodus]

came to me in a dream

[yumishisu]

wade calling him everything but logan

[godsplatter]

im not immune to this looney tunes shit