#Turns out my grandpa and my dad and probably me all have a rare hereditary leukemia

[coralineandthesapphicfantastic]

I'm out here making RPF OCs you can't even imagine. My mind is open. My spirit is soaring. Haters lament my whimsy and power.

[negasonicimagines]

Middle of Somewhere

request: Can I please request an imagine? Reader is dating Ellie, but Ellie doesn't know that readers dad is wade until she leaves her phone in the same room as Ellie when she's getting coffee for them both. And Ellie sees her getting a call from. "Dadpool" You can choose the ending but I think that would be funny.

synopsis: A little after Deadpool, but significantly before Deadpool 2, you and Ellie have a mostly-quiet morning. | Middle of Somewhere - The Neighbourhood

author’s note: I loooove this request and have been waiting forever for the right time to write it! Sorry it’s short, I just didn’t wanna overdo it. (...Which I think is my worst habit on this blog, especially when Wade’s thrown into the mix because he’s such an layered character and- See what I mean?)

warning(s): none! except, well, it’s Deadpool...

It’s a lazy Saturday morn-noon, and you’re gazing at Ellie’s sleeping face. She looks so peaceful like this, not faking anger or indifference or any of that. Just… Resting. You’re tempted to stroke her cheek, but she stirs, likely feeling your stare.

“Morning…” she hums, pulling you closer to her and pressing her face into your chest. “Hmm… Nice.”

You giggle at the way her inhibitions are lowered by her drowsiness and her knowledge that you feel for her what she feels for you.

“Good morning, sugarbear,” you reply, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Sugarbear?” she questions, looking up at you sleepily.

“Yeah,” you confirm, so matter-of-factly that she has to bury her face again to avoid showing the amusement (or embarrassment) there.

“I’m not even gonna bother arguing.”

“That’s for the best,” you joke back, rubbing her back.

“Need coffee,” she mumbles into you, nuzzling.

“Mmkay... Gotta let me go for that,” you remind her, and she groans in complaint.

“Fine… But be back soon,” she orders, and you scoff as you slide out of her grip and put a bra on under her tee shirt, also putting on a pair of sweatpants.

“I’ll be right back,” you promise her, sliding on your unicorn slippers and going downstairs. There’s already a pot on; there’s a couple of communal coffee-making machines in the kitchen. You get Ellie’s “Life’s a Cunt” mug - as well as your own “World’s Best Grandpa” mug - before making your hot chocolate, waiting for the coffee in one of the machines to finish brewing.

Little do you know about the conversation that’s occurring in your room.

When your phone rang, Ellie answered it for you without even looking, knowing it was either a call you wouldn’t want to miss or a telemarketer she could fuck with.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You sound sick,” Deadpool replies, and she looks at the contact name. Dadpool. She prays to every god - or godlike being - she knows exists (Thor, Loki, the works) that it’s a spelling error.

“What the fuck?” Ellie blurts, suddenly a lot less groggy.

“Negasonic Teenage The Author Can’t Come Up With A Clever Joke, is that you?”

“I... I think?”

“Cool, cool, nice to hear from you. Next question: Why the fuck are you answering my daughter’s phone?”

“Your… Daughter?” Her voice squeaks a little at the confirmation.

“Yeah. My daughter.”

What a pickle Ellie’s gotten herself into, she realizes at his deadly tone. She sighs in relief when you enter.

“Your dad’s on the phone,” she quickly informs you.

“Oh, thanks, babe. Trade me.” Ellie hands you your phone and you give her the coffee. “Good afternoon, Dadpool, what couldn’t you say over text?” you ask. “...Uh, yeah, she’s my girlfriend. ...No, no, she is Ellie, you don’t need to kill anyone. ...Yes, she is capable of human emotion, Dad. ...You wish I got it from you! ...Wow, really? Congrats! ...Yeah, I guess, but I figured you’d be inviting her anyways based on what she’s told me. ...Okay, cool. Congratulations, again. I love you too. Okay, bye.”

“So, what was that about?”

“Oh, Dad’s finally marrying Vanessa. We’re invited,” you explain, settling back into bed with your hot chocolate.

“Uh-huh, yeah, about that… Were you ever gonna tell me your dad’s Deadpool?” Ellie wonders, glad the situation turned out for the best but a little concerned.

“Nope. Figured it’d be a lot more entertaining for you to figure it out on your own after all those snarky little comments you made,” you tell her. Also, you seem to hate him and I’m fifty-percent him and that was super daunting, you think.

“The fact that I didn’t sooner is astounding.” Looking back on your relationship and the friendship before, it’s obvious. You’re so much like Wade, and you even look kinda like him - from what she remembers of the brief times she’s seen him unmasked, at least.

“Aw, it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb,” you tease, squishing one of her cheeks between your thumb and finger.

“I will slaughter you,” she emptily threatens you, and you giggle.

“Drink your coffee first, before it gets cold,” you remind her with a slight smirk, and she just rolls her eyes, sipping at the wake-up juice. The teasing aspect of your smile fades, and your loving stare brings a heat to her cheeks that she wishes she could pretend was the coffee.

Vulnerability is hard for you both, but in the moments of rare simplicity you get as X-Women, it’s hard not to be tender with each other while you can; away from the prying eyes of friends and foes. 

She smells chocolate and can’t help but smile at the realization that you’ve got a marshmallow in your cup. Probably for the best. Deadpool’s daughter? High on caffeine? But she shuts those thoughts down within herself quickly. You’re still the same girl she loves but can’t say she loves. (Not yet.)

“You’re such a child,” she remarks - no malice intended; it’s code for “You’re so adorable,” you’re aware.

“You’re pretty insensitive for such an S-J-W. Peter Pan Syndrome is hereditary, don’t be ableist,” you retort, and her heart is a warm flower blooming with affection - not that she’d ever make that obvious. She hints at it, though, by pressing her lips to yours.

You’re usually so annoyingly stubborn, with the smallest of things, but when she kisses you - when she touches you at all, other than sparring  - you immediately give in. It’s a brief, but intimate kiss, and you sigh afterwards, taking a long drink of your hot chocolate.

Today’s going to be a great day.