#cablepool break up

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade waiting for a package so when there's a knock at the door, he jumps up all excited.

Before he can even open the door, Logan's nose is scrunching, petting their naked rat dog in his lap. Snfsnf..

Scott?

Coming out of the bedroom, he leaves the puppy on the bed.

It's not Scott. It's worse than that.

There, standing in his door frame is Nathan. He's holding a bag and gave Wade a type of flowers He's never seen before. They smell like warm melted sugar and perfume. Big, and almost resembled a tiger lilly except the coloring is off. Red and black instead of orange and a brown shade.

Wade is standing here, looking up at him with a frown, playing with his sleeves, grabbing his own hand, biting his tongue enough to bleed. Logan could smell it.

Wade was staring at him, silent, his eyes glistening like glitter in oil.

He can hear Mary barking in their bedroom. She didn't like men very much. Esspecially when they smelled like Scott.

"...."

"You don't have to say anything right now, Wade.." Nathan starts, lifting up the bag. "Just...came to give your clothes back... they don't smell like you anymore.."

Tears start to form in his eyes, not blinking. Still staring. As if in disbelief of what he just said before Logan came out.

Logan appears by his side, looking up at Cable with a soft, possesive glare, like a dog whos unfriendly to men and might bite.

"What the fuck did you say to him?"

When Wade didn't take the bag of clothes, Nathan's arm dropped, looking away from him.

"Hello, Logan.."

By now, Wade still hasn't said anything, but the tears rushing down his face were enough to trigger Logan's protection mode.

"What. Did. You. Say!?"

"I don't believe I was talking to you.." Cable mutters, this time their eyes connecting in that stare offish sort of way.

"Does it look like I care!?"

Word's ring through Wade's head. Words that might sound innocent but held a whole new meaning behind them. The flowers, the clothes, These meant nothing compared to them.

'My daughter is all grown up.'

Why would anyone walk through a door with even a hello and say these words as if to quickly establish the intention of his visit.

Yeah, Nathan visited like twice a year, ussually once at Christmas with his father and to visit his new little sister Rachel, but once not. Once, alone, and in his new apartment.

Wade had purposly moved to get away from the memories (and mildew) of him. The little life that they built together for a few months.

Got a new mattress even. One softer. Less springy. Used, yes, but so much comfier. You know what they say about those new matresses. Too hard. No one to wear them in. So, at least now, when he slept, he could feel the warm, soft embrace instead of a hold hard metal one.

... This isn't about matresses..

And yet, after everything, he kept coming back like a stray mutt wanting fed. Haunting him of everything he wanted in his youth but couldn't have.

'I'm sorry, Wade.. But I can't abandon my daughter'

'My daughter is all grown up.'

Now, He knew he was delusional. He knew he was dilerious even, but this? Oh, No, honey. There was no way around this. Because THIS 'between the lines' notation was actually a huge bright shining flashing sign.

The olive branch of 'Let's get back together'. Painted in gold and put on a pedestal... just to tease him.

Shaking his head, Wade had blocked out the argument before but came back to "He's his own person. He can talk to who he wants."

"No the fuck he can't! Not if they're just going to hurt him!"

"Im not going to hurt him, Logan."

"What do you call this!?"

Wade's tears hadn't stopped, his eyes red from crying, and all he could do was whimper and stare, his visson blurry.

Even when Cable WAS his, he was barley home, returning at nights and leaving again before dawn. Time cop things I guess. Sometimes he wouldn't return for days.. bringing in perks, setting things right within the balance of time, killing bad dudes, visiting his daughter, etc.

And while Wade didn't blame him for this, he didn't want that anymore. He could barely handle it back then, and now? That Logan had conditioned him with morning lovings, smothering him in the sunnight that came into their room, peppering kisses all over him, whining when Wade left the house and always scooping him up to go to the bedroom when he returned.

How he made him breakfast after holding him for hours and held his head so nicely when he gave him shower head. THE shower head. My bad. To save water, you know? It's expensive in New York, sue me.

The way he cared for puppins and fell asleep during some dumb documentary. How Logan held his hand to go grocery shopping and went as far as telling the X men that they were married, and they could kick rocks if they didn't like it.

It was... nice.. to be wanted. To be loved and to settle down. Not a lot - just about as much as Deadpool COULD settle down. He's been shown the light of routine affection, and he was not about to go back to cold nights alone, wondering when he'd come back.

It's not that he didn't love Nathan. No, the oppisite, actually. But they didn't work. As much as they clicked and how much fun he had with him, He couldn't take another heartbreak.

"T-this isn't fair.." he chokes out.

Mid argument, Logan turns. "What's not fair?"

"Breathe, Wade." Cable says, having put the clothes down, pushing it up against the side of the couch.

Taking a deep breath, it's pushed out of his lungs the moment it comes in. "It's not fair!"

Backing away from the both of them, he's holding the flowers so tight that the stems are breaking. The tears become thicker, heavier, his heart beat pounding in his ears.

"I did what I was supposed to do!! I grew up! I moved on!! I-i settled down, Nathan!! I'm married!!"

Both went quiet, an obvious frown and a concerned look plastered onto their faces.

"Why'd you leave me if you just wanted to come back? I didn't do anything wrong!! I thought you liked me! You said you loved me!!" He was shouting, sobbing, and clearly stressed out.

(And all because he thought the amazon guy was here.)

"Wade, calm down. Breathe."

"Don't you tell him to calm down! He's allowed to be pissed. You up and left him."

"For my daughter! Yes, I did-"

"So shut the fuck up!"

Breathing heavily, Wade began to pace, hugging himself and the flowers, crushing them to death, a metaphor to his desire for the future man.

"I-it's not fair!! You chose what you chose, and now you have the nerve to come back and ask me to throw everything I made for myself away! For you!? But you wouldn't do that for me!"

Now that he thought about it, this was his first time fully processing and letting out his emotions since the breakup. He was angry and grieving.

Nathan nods softly "I know and I wouldn-"

"Am I fucking finished talking!? Huh? No! So shut the fuck up!" He had spent years shoving deep down, trying to burry the anger alive.

Logan has been there. He knew this feeling all too well. But seeing Wade explode like this was kind of terrifying. He always knew Wade had that fire in him, What he didn't expect was for Wade to throw the bouquet at him. Him out of the two.

Swallowing, he scrambles to pick them up, not sure if Wade simply missed or if he wanted to keep them or not. The crushed petals on the floor were the pieces of Wade that Logan couldn't glue together, but that was fine. He loved him none the less.

"And you!"

"Me?"

"I should gut you right now for ever thinking I would leave you! I'm a grown man, I can handle myself! I-i'm allowed to cry! I don't need you to fight my battles for me. Just pick me up when I fall. Got it!?"

Logan nods quickly.

"Good!! Cause I will! And you! You should have thought about this when you abandoned me. I've tried to be your friend, I will still be your friend, but I won't let you come here with your stupidly gorgeous future flowers and think I'll bend over like a fucking bitch for you. You lost that chance!" He says, throwing his hands up and pointing at him angerly.

Nathan was going to mutter how he didn't see him like this, but was too afraid Wade might stab him, so he just nodded subtly.

"Now. Get the fuck out of my house." The growl is through grit teeth.

"But I really think-"

"I don't give a rats ass what you think! This is MY life and I'm tired of people thinking I care what they think. Now, I'll talk to you about this later when I don't feel like gauging out your only good fucking eye. Got it? Good. Nice seeing you. Bye!"

Turning on his heel, Wade goes towards the bedroom, leaving Logan to glare and start to snarl.

"Logan! Come! Nathan, leave my fucking clothes and close the door on your way out! If my dog gets out im gonna be one pissed off cunt!" He screams, now holding puppins who was desperate to lick the tears and snot from his face.

Giving each other a look, Cable picks up the bag and Logan is quick to come when called, giving him a final 'Fuck you' with a claw before he left.

Mr. Space cops eye's roll, shaking his head as he headed out.

Hearing the door clicking, Logan watches as Wade snuggles up in the blankets, hugging himself tight. He was seething.

"....you wanna talk about it...?"

"...." clacking his nails together, Logan put the flowers in a tall cup, filling it half way with water and put it on the dresser before coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

He was right.. the flowers were beautiful. They still were, even now that they were all broken and crumbled... this isn't about flowers.

Wade huffs, making a whining growly sound.

Logan nods, understanding but he's rarely been on this side of the argument. Ussually its him being all growly.

"..Im proud of you, Wade.."

The words are like an instant pull of a trigger, sniffling before breaking down again, starting to sob. This time, less angry and more mournful.

Logan sighs, crawling close to him before pulling him into his arms, rubbing his back.

Puppin's whines, wagging her tail.

"..I-it's not fair...t-the one time I do the mature thing.."

"I know... you love him. It's hard."

"I-i did.." Wade whispers, his chest tight with various emotions.

Logan knew because this was the exact feeling he felt with Scott. He thought they fit, but I guess not cause he went off and married Jean instead, and still sometimes told him things that made his chest tighten with painful grief of what they could have had, and only toyed with him when he felt convenient.

Like father like son.

Even if it felt so right to be wrong, how good it felt to be given the attention, it hurt so bad when it ended.

And that kind of hurt took decades to go away...

Luckily, Wade liked this mattress more and wasn't planning on getting rid of it so long as he may live.

[kamydrawstuffs]

Deadpool's Ship Dynamics (According to Fanfics read by Deadpool)

Truth be told, I never considered Poolverine until after watching Deadpool & Wolverine.

[sciderman]

deadpool & cable (2011)

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

i have several drafts from back in january comparing some of my old man yaoi ™️ ships which i decided against posting at the time because, quite frankly, they were thoughts no one would appreciate but me. two of the ships i know have some overlap, but the third didn't fit. a different genre. too niche.

but, with a new deadpool movie out and other ppl seeing the buggy parallels, i might as well get this off my chest:

shuggy is cablepool.

(not movieverse cablepool, to be clear. (i enjoy movieverse cable but he is not my mutant messiah.) comics cablepool.)

the dynamic is eerily similar:

we have an occasionally slapstick murderclown with obvious issues about the unusual way he looks, who presents himself as only having selfish motives but is (sometimes) lying about that, is very hard to kill, is disliked by ppl who have to work with him and popular with and beloved by ppl who don't both in-universe and out!

and his ex-bestie, a massively overpowered would-be martyr who is missing a flesh arm, has three scars over one eye, whose continued fondness for the murderclown post-breakup baffles everyone around him (murderclown included), and who refuses to elaborate on his motives for doing shady shit (including manipulating our beloved murderclown) except that he's doing everything for the sake of the future

like. tell me that's not them.

[historicalcord]

“I’m here…I’m with you…”

[marshroom580]

cablepool relationship hcs (bc they're disasters and neither of them would make for a good romantic partner):

Out of the two of them, Wade is actually the one who wants to keep their relationship on the down low

Both of them forget important dates but Wade forgets anniversaries and birthdays while Nate forgets major holidays

They're totally on again off again in an entirely codependent and unhealthy way

Most of their break ups and make ups happen in the middle of or right after battles (i refuse to believe they can have a normal conversation about their wants and expectations without the threat of death and/or adrenaline pumping through their veins)

Wade's a big gestures kinda gal and Nate is a small sentimental trinkets kinda guy

They both talk a big game and tease each other until the hint of anything serious or remotely close to commitment comes up, then it gets real quiet real quickly until one of them changes the topic

Just so many minute misunderstandings that lead to both of them believing the other doesn't actually want something serious

They usually see each other for a few weeks to a month at most before something else comes up that leads to them separating again

Civil war is still a touchy subject no matter how many years has gone by

Usually Wade tries to jam as many events and hangouts and cliche date ideas as he can into the limited amounts of time they have together, Nate's fine with being dragged around as long as he's spending time with Wade

[waterme-stories]

The Fishermen ("Espresso Depresso")

From @deepwaterwritingprompts no. 2513

(3.5k. Original fiction that can be read as Cablepool without squinting too hard. You can also read this on Ao3!)

 —  —  —  - - -  —  —  — 

We didn’t expect the town to be so popular with Fishermen. They showed up, dark eyed, identical, and nearly naked. Teeth full of fish guts, desperate for hot tea. 

The pub was the most popular. It made sense — all worn wood and thick mugs, it was the sort of place one half expected to stumble across a drowned fisherman. The bartenders just shrugged and poured a strong cup of tea, and as the years passed the chatter of the late night drunks barely wavered at their arrival. 

Occasionally they would wander into a gift shop where a clerk was working late, or into one of the chic galleries. The trembling docent would take a break from hanging that month’s show and drop a tea bag into a paper cup, topped with hot water from the back room microwave. 

They were harmless, if unsettling.

We tried to warn the man who started the coffee shop. It was in the building that had been the old yarn store, the store old Mrs. Merryweather had run for decades until she moved to Florida. The one with the tiny coffee counter that she never quite got the hang of. One specific (increasingly decaying) Fisherman had liked to visit there. The ring going green around its finger matched the one on a chain around her neck. That Fisherman stopped showing up a winter or two back and — while old Irene had poured her heart and soul into that little yarn store — no one was surprised when she retired soon after. 

The man (the coffee shop owner) scoffed. He had seen real monsters. Human ones. He had seen many things in some war or another. That was where he lost his arm, we all assumed, replaced by some newfangled mechanical thing that could grip and move a bit, enough to do just fine at his roasting and brewing and foaming. 

He and his arm and his fresh beans imported straight from sustainable labor in Chile were not afraid of any Fishermen. 

Anyway. His establishment wasn’t the type the Fishermen sought out. Oh, it had a look to it on the surface, all unfinished brick and exposed pipe. But that was an artifice for the tourists. The Fishermen didn’t care about his fresh beans or his roasting techniques or the fine oils that rose to the surface of his perfect brews.

There weren’t too many Fishermen in the summer, anyway. They didn’t like it when it was light out, and they very much did not like the tourists. It was for the best, since the money from the summer crowd kept the town alive all through the lean winter. Fishermen would be bad for business. A ghost tour isn’t nearly as popular when it features real ghosts.

For a few months, the coffee shop owner was safe in his skepticism.

He made his coffee. He roasted his beans. He sneered at anyone who asked for some froufrou frappuccino, instead making them a short latte with pasture-raised whole milk and just a hint of hand-extracted vanilla syrup, and served with a stony glare.

One of the perks, people said. The tourists loved the curmudgeonly coffee shop owner almost as much as they loved the jocular bartender over at the pub.

Go order a Pink Drink, they would tease each other. Listen to him growl.

And then it was fall and the tourists dried up. The winds blew bitter off the sea. The vacation rentals deep cleaned and boarded up for the winter, and the galleries cut their hours. The town would be quietly dormant until the Christmas season (with fingers crossed for just enough snow to bring in a few tourists).

That’s when the coffee shop owner saw them for the first time.

He was alone in the cafe, testing out his latest roast, when he heard a scrape outside the shop. A pale body made its way across his plate glass window. The Owner’s chest went cold as it turned its head and looked at him with dark eyes. Dark pits, like two childish scribbles in a mockery of a face.

He gripped the metal tamper in his hand, ready to take it out at the jugular if need be, but it kept on its way. It continued to the pub where the barmaid gave it a cup of tea bitter enough to melt your molars.

(It didn’t actually drink the tea. It wrapped its cold, cold hands around it. Smelled it. And then, after a while, it drug itself back to the sea.)

The very next day, the Owner went to the sporting goods store and bought a thick wooden bat. He pounded nails through it and put it behind the bar. He didn’t need it, though. As I said, his establishment was not of interest to the fisherman. They wanted a place that felt like home. A place that felt like the places they used to frequent (back when they were alive to frequent establishments).

The cafe? All polished wood and perfectly patinated copper? It wasn't for them. So the Owner watched them through his window, watched them scrape their way on.

He grew used to them after a while. As all of us have. As you eventually will.

Until one day, as he tidied the store late at night, the bell on the (locked) front door jingled.

In a flash, the bat was in the Owner’s hand. His muscles coiled. The Fisherman drug its way in, pale like the rest of them. Soggy. Its bloated skin was pitted with open sores, eyes dark tidepools in a sharp, rocky face. As it made its way to the cash register, each step left pools of briny water to soak into the unfinished concrete floor.

“Hello,” it said. It reminded the Owner of when his daughter had gotten tonsillitis, when her voice swelled into a splintered whisper like the waterlogged planks of an old jetty. “Hello.” 

“Hello,” the Owner replied, for lack of anything better. “What can I get you? Tea? I have a lovely Darjeeling.” 

“Blech.” The Fisherman spat to the side, something that crunched as it hit the floor. “I’ll have a grande caramel macchiato. But like Starbucks makes it. Not that shit where you burn espresso and then give it the saddest bukkake of foam. I mean a caramel macchiato. A proper one.” 

Grand-ee, it had said. And, expresso. 

“Wow,” said the Owner, fingering his bat. “I now want to bash your brains in for a completely different reason.”

The Fishermen simply stared at him. The Owner sighed. 

“So, that’s a sixteen ounce inverted vanilla-caramel latte with caramel drizzle?” 

“Is that a caramel macchiato?” the Fisherman asked with suspicion.

“Yes,” said the Owner, “but please don't make me call it that.”

He picked up a commercially compostable paper cup, ignoring the hand-thrown ceramic mugs. He did not want the Fisherman staying. 

(It’s worth noting that our town doesn’t even have municipal composting — in fact if you ask around, you’ll learn that the recycling and trash bins for the tourists all get chucked into the same dump.)

“Would you like regular caramel sauce, blood orange, or locally harvested sea salt? Made in-house.” 

“Ooh,” said the Fisherman. The dark pits of its eyes grew to whirlpools, panda-like across the choppy sea of its face. “Can you do all three?”

The Owner grit his teeth. “Why the fuck not.”

When it received the drink, it immediately removed the lid and took a deep swallow. The drink left a mustache of foamed milk across its decaying lip. “Perfecto,” it said. “What’s the damage?”

“You know what,” said the Owner, “it’s on the house.” 

“No no. I insist.”

It set two sand dollars on the counter, still alive. They bristled, hundreds of tiny feet undulating across their undersides as they grasped for water.

“Where did you get those?” asked the Owner. He had never seen a live one out of water, he realized. The way they moved sent a chill up his spine that made his artificial hand clench.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said the Fisherman. And, “Wink.”

“I really don’t,” said the Owner.

The Fisherman shrugged, a sloshing motion that seemed to ripple from one shoulder to the other.

“Thanks, babes,” it said. “See you around.”

“Have a nice night,” the Owner called, despite himself. 

That night, he took the sand dollars and threw them back into the sea. 

 —  —  — 

That was the first time the Owner saw that particular Fisherman, but it was far from the last. A few weeks later it sloshed in and demanded a frappuccino, which the Owner refused hands-down. 

Instead, he served it his favorite single origin bean (painstakingly brewed via pour over), which it immediately spat on the ground. They had strong words, but somehow the Owner never felt the need to reach for his baseball bat. They finally compromised on a caramel macchiato and an uneasy truce was reached (for a few visits, at least).

“I have a suggestion,” said the Fisherman one night.

“I don’t want to hear it,” said the Owner.

“Just hear me out: Lisa Frank frappe. One-up the Unicorn frappuccino.”

“Absolutely not.”

The Fisherman sulked into its caramel sauce. “One day you’ll recognize my genius.”

 —  —  — 

“You know what you should make? A matcha mocha. It’s alliterative, see? Mmmatcha mmmocha.”

“No.”

 —  —  — 

 “Fruitcake latte, for Christmas.”

“Are you trying to run me out of business?”

 —  —  — 

“Kool-Aid Italian soda. Oh, yeah.”

“Get out.”

 —  —  — 

“I have a suggestion,” said the Fisherman.

“No,” said the Owner.

“No, no, no! Hear me out!” The Fisherman spread its hands expansively. “Lavender.”

That gave the Owner pause. “I’m listening.”

“Um.” The Fisherman blinked. “That was honestly as far as I got, I figured you’d shoot me down. And I know it’s not in season. I love — I loved going out to the farms anytime I was in port in the summer. Got it by the armful, threw it in my bunk, rolled around in it. If I dried it out and packed it careful, it could last me till March. Drove my roommate crazy, but he jacked off to clown porn and never washed his sheets. Anyway. It’s not in season now, so you probably won’t let it into your shop.”

The Owner hummed. “I could get some dry from the tea shop. Just to experiment with, until I can get it fresh. Not for paying customers.”

“I’m a paying customer,” the Fisherman pouted.

“I’m afraid seaweed isn’t legal tender, sweetheart,” the Owner said, not unkindly.

The next time the Fisherman came in, the Owner proudly set down a mug wafting with fragrant steam. 

“Is it tea?” asked the Fisherman with suspicion. “I hate tea.” 

“It’s a London Fog. It’s got whole milk and enough syrup to give you diabetes. You won’t even taste the tea.”

“I hate tea,” the Fisherman repeated, taking a tentative sip. The black pits of its eyes expanded in delight.

“Still hate tea?”

The Fisherman bared sharp teeth, then downed half the mug. “Disgusting. Make me another one.”

The Owner didn’t even make it say ‘please.’ 

 —  —  — 

“Have you ever been in love?” asked the Fisherman, staring into the depths of a holiday spice latte (a brand new recipe for December — hold the fruitcake).

The Owner shifted uncomfortably. “Yes. A long time ago.”

“Do you love me?”

“You irritate me.”

The Fisherman flopped its soggy self across the countertop, rocking back and forth. “You have to love me,” it said, “or I’ll turn into a bit of sea foam and wash away.” 

“A bit of jism clogging up the pool filter, more like.”

With a grumble, the Owner moved the planter of fresh lavender out of range of the Fisherman’s flailing elbows. It was flourishing, and the locals had nothing but compliments for the lavender drinks.

“What about you? You ever been in love?”

Peeling itself off the counter, the Fisherman put its chin in its hand. “You know that song? Brandy, lookin’ fine girl, what a hot wife you would be…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.”

“That’s exactly how it goes. Anyway. That was me. The girls and the wives weren’t for me. Couldn’t love anyone on the land, only the other boys like me. The sailor boys. You don’t know how terrifying it is to love until you’ve fallen in love with the ocean. And once you do… you can’t love anyone who doesn’t understand.”

The Owner resisted an impulse to place his hand on the Fisherman’s soggy one. “Love isn’t supposed to be terrifying. It’s not like that anymore, not even for the kind of boys who love sailor boys.”

“Love is an abyss, and you pour yourself in it until you drip away to nothing.”

The Owner, who had a long time ago loved very deeply and now had nothing and no one, had no response to that.

 —  —  — 

“Here.” The Owner set a mug in front of the Fisherman.

“What is it?” asked the Fisherman, poking suspiciously at the rainbow floof adorning the mug.

“Unicorn hot cocoa, for Valentine’s Day. You seem like the type who’d be into Pinkie Pie.”

The Fisherman, already bone white, somehow paled. “That stuffie is for platonic use only. Anyway, what’s that gunk on the top?”

“Marshmallows?”

“They don’t look like any marshmallows I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean that crap you get in a bag at the grocery store? No, these are handmade.”

“You can make marshmallows? No, let me rephrase that. You can make marshmallows?”

The Owner shrugged. “I used to make them a lot, back in the day. Haven’t had a reason to in a while.”

He hadn’t had the heart to, more like. But watching the Fisherman try to navigate the drink, only to end up with lavender and pink goo on its ruined nose… The Owner felt a flicker in his chest. Something almost (but not quite) like joy.

 —  —  — 

The winter passed. The days grew longer, and a breeze that smelled like spring blew in from the sea. 

One night, the door swung open. Water dripped on the concrete floor. 

“What’ll it be?” asked the Owner. “A caramel match-iatto? A red bull and banana smoothie?” He tried (and failed) to hide a fond smile, as he had tried (and failed) for many weeks. 

The drip-drip-drip grew to a cacophony, a vast rain cloud breaking above a stormy sea. The air reeked of salt, and bitter kelp, and bloated whale corpses long forgotten. 

“A kiss,” the Fisherman said, “and a goodbye.” 

The Owner looked up. 

The Fisherman, always in a state of decay, was a pillar of melting wax. Its pitted skin hissed and foamed, big drops melting to the floor. Its dark eyes drooped, one noticeably lower than the other, like a child’s rough sculpture of the monster under the bed. 

“But I thought… I thought we’d have so many winters.”

The Fisherman shook its head, a rueful smile swimming crooked across its face. “We don’t mark the time in years or seasons. We mark it in time spent on land. Weeks, days, minutes. We only get so many before we drip away to nothing. Most of them… they only drag themselves in when the cold becomes unbearable, when the heat of the tea is worth the frigid fear. But you… oh, you’ve been so warm to me.” 

The longer the winter wore on, the more the Fisherman had come. Years of visits spent in a few short months. 

“No. No, there must be a way.” The Owner wracked his brain, trying to remember the fairy tales he’d read to his daughter. He stepped around the bar. Stepped closer than they’d ever been, without counter and register between them. “If I kiss you — if I love you — ” 

The Fishermen shook its head. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter how much we’re loved — we all return to the sea in the end. Even you. But I got you this. To remember me by.” 

Stepping into the Owner’s space, the Fisherman pressed something into his hand. Something round and moist and spiny. Something that squirmed against his palm. A live sand dollar. 

The Owner took the final step forward, and kissed the Fisherman. 

It was a desperate kiss, the kiss of a drowned man surging to meet the lips of his rescuer. The Owner felt the burn of saltwater, the nauseous churn of it in his belly. A kiss like a slap of seawater to the mouth, like eating an oyster so fresh it crawled down his throat. Something crunched in the Owner’s teeth, but he only pressed harder, pressed so hard he feared the Fisherman might pop between his fingers in a spray of salty water. 

“I love you,” he said, when he finally pulled back to gasp a lungful of sweet air. “I’ll always love you, I promise. Even if it drowns me.” 

“Don’t,” said the Fisherman. “Please don’t. If you drown, who will make the teens their drinks for Snapchat?” 

The Owner laughed, wetly. Stepped back. “One more caramel macchiato for the road?”

“Only if it’s a proper one. Like Starbucks makes it.” The Fisherman shuffled its sloshing feet, the motion making its entire body jiggle. “By the way, I love you, too. But don’t, like, make a thing of it.” 

The Fisherman stayed for a long time that night. What they talked about, nobody knows. After it finally left, the Owner sat down on the cold floor and set the sand dollar in the puddle. He watched it creep around until it turned orange with the first rays of dawn. 

Then he put the sand dollar in a bucket and walked to the sea. He took with him a sprig of lavender, and two dog tags on a chain, and a faded ribbon tied around a lock of his mother’s red hair. (He never met her — or at least, she died before he could remember, which was practically the same thing to a child.) He took a worn teddy bear, the one he had pulled out of his daughter’s coffin right before they closed the lid. Right before he buried his last, bright ray of hope. 

He was at the sea all day, until long after nightfall. When he came back, he carried only the bucket. 

 —  —  —  - - -  —  —  — 

“And then what happened?”

The old man sat back with a smile, and tugged the little girl’s braid. “He still runs that cafe. But sometimes if you brush by him on the street, you’ll catch the scent of rotting seaweed at low tide. Sometimes he tracks water when it hasn’t rained in weeks. And if you peek through his shop window at night, you might see his pale skin glisten like a stone on the beach in the moonlight, and his eyes as black and deep as tide pools. They’re the eyes of a man who has seen monsters. And not the human kind.”

The girl shuddered, pushing away her compostable paper cup of pink snozzberry hot chocolate. 

“Oh, don’t you worry. He’s not dangerous. None of them are. Just sad. And anyway, by the time the Fishermen come back you’ll be back to the big city, with no time for your granddad and his silly ghost stories. But tell me — do you know where the Fishermen come from?” 

She shrugged, pulling her drink back to take a gulp. She remembered the gruff, one-armed owner with kind eyes like lazy summer waves. The man who complimented the ribbons in her red hair as he gave her extra whipped cream. 

Her granddad leaned close. 

“A Fisherman is a man who promised his heart to the sea.”

 —  —  —  - - -  —  —  — 

“I’m just saying…” 

“No,” said the Owner, giving a hefty shake of rainbow sprinkles into the Mason jar full of sea water by the register. “I hate you.” 

“You love me,” said the sea foam. 

It turned a violent shade of violet. A coppery fish with cloudy eyes darted to the top of the jar, blowing an iridescent bubble before running face-first into the smooth glass wall. (The sea foam called her ‘Al.’ The Owner called her ‘Dum Dum Fish,’ but he secretly kept a supply of her favorite shrimp flakes under the counter.)

“I’m just saying,” said the sea foam, “that the Cap’n Crunch: Oops! All Berries! Frappe is gonna be the drink of the summer.” 

The Owner sighed and grabbed a rainbow of chalk, and climbed on a stool to sketch out something Instagram-worthy on the menu board.

the end.

(you can kudos, comment, or bookmark this work on Ao3!)

[prisonhannibal]

pro cablepool ofc but i feel like once Nate had Hope he would tell Wade he couldn't be around her and then once she grew up he would try to get back with him again

I feel like they might have tried it but it didn’t work lol. They seem like the kinda people who would “break up” all the time for actual good reasons (not always fighting) but it just never sticks. like they’ll “take a break” for like three months because of life circumstances but three days later wade is hitting him up again. or Nathan breaks up due to a disagreement that’s like a dealbreaker but a week later he’s like “wyd”. or they’re definitely broken up for a long ass time except for every single time they run into each other

[ifridiot]

Fic Master Post

Part 3: All the Rest

sorted by primary fandom. remember to always read the tags before engaging with the work. Under a cut because it’s Long.

PUNISHER

Special -- Rated M, 1425 words Start of a Good Porno -- Rated T, 3255 words Bite my Tongue -- Rated T, 4344 words Break In -- Rated G, 431 words Snowfall -- Rated T, 2618 words War -- Rated G, 841 words In a Word -- Rated E, 2424 words Delicate -- Rated E, 9399 words As Yet Unseen -- Rated T, 2269 words Unflattering -- Rated G, 775 words To More Than Friends -- Rated E, 3656 words Burns -- Rated M, 2368 words To New Friends -- Rated T, 2327 words Badass -- Rated T, 1231 words Break -- Rated G, 1411 words Gets Me Closer to God -- Rated E, 2332 words A Light to the Blind -- Rated T, 1094 words You Do It or You Die -- Rated T, 1511 words As Ever it Was -- Rated M, 1425 words Better than Okay -- Rated E, 1587 words First Time Perfection -- Rated E, 1424 words Never -- Rated E, 1208 words Piercings -- Rated E, 3001 words Truth or Dare -- Rated M, 2321 words About the Living, For the Dead -- Rated E, 4679 words Memento Mori -- Rated E, 6006 words Reach -- Rated M, 693 words Puncture Repair -- Rated R, 4907 words Come Home -- Rated M, 2494 words Celebrate -- Rated E, 2406 words Transformation -- Rated G, 809 words Devil’s Advocate -- Rated E, 3198 words Detail Work -- Rated M, 861 words A Balance of Wants -- Rated E, 8758 words To Be Well -- Rated M, 2100 words The Short Route -- Rated M, 979 words Talk SMS to Me -- Rated T, 1055 words Anaesthetist -- Rated M, 1681 words Talking in Your Sleep -- Rated M, 3526 words The Lunar Effect -- Rated E, 4119 words Shake Me Sane -- Rated E, 4360 words Playing House -- Rated E, 7354 words Soft Things -- Rated E, 2929 words Left for Salvage -- Rated E, 1147 words Grass Below, Sky Above -- Rated E, 1658 words Choke -- Rated E, 2250 words Exhale -- Rated G, 406 words Wouldn’t Hold My Breath -- Rated E, 5312 words

DEADPOOL

As Good As His Word -- Rated E, 1613 words Dessert -- Rated M, 3436 words A Little More Beast than Beauty -- Rated E, 27760 words Girly Drinks: Five Times Nate Got White Girl Wasted when Wade was Trying to Get Gay -- Rated E, 11113 words Because I Love You -- Rated E, 2679 words Honeysuckle and Mistletoe -- Rated E, 4266 words No Better -- Rated T, 2266 words I’ll Keep Coming -- Rated E, 2645 words Protector -- Rated T, 1337 words Time to Die, Babe -- Rated T, 716 words Burn Them Wade -- Rated M, 826 words Good Boy -- Rated E, 2597 words A Green Eyed Demon -- Rated E, 3718 words Jarmed in the Target Jathroom -- Rated E, 1825 words Unnecessary -- Rated G, 543 words Wondering -- Rated G, 666 words The Alphabet of Cablepool -- Rated E, 3232 words Rehashed -- Rated E, 666 words Can You Take Me Higher -- Rated E, 3221 words When I was Hungry -- Rated E, 3062 words What Good Girls Do -- Rated E, 1844 words Good Ol’ Fashioned Boot Licking -- Rated E, 850 words Glittering -- Rated E, 2554 words Pretty Eyes -- Rated G, 478 words Hunger -- Rated E, 1105 words Just Like Pretty Woman -- Rated E, 6135 words Praise -- Rated E, 546 words Privately, Publicly -- Rated E, 1426 words A Little Teasing, A Big Break -- Rated E, 1409 words The Twelve Tongue Positions of the Alpha Centauri -- Rated E, 1287 words On Your Knees -- Rated E, 1462 words Keep It Down -- Rated E, 1154 words

TRANSFORMERS

Should Have Known -- Rated G, 2803 words Leave You -- Rated T, 3685 words Revenge is a Five-Step Process -- Rated M, 9006 words Unpreventable -- Rated T, 1889 words Mistakes and Reparations -- Rated E, 5754 words The Colours of StaCa -- Rated T, 4446 words Burn -- Rated E, 2775 words Almost Told You -- Rated E, 3843 words Dance -- Rated G, 667 words A Difficult Problem -- Rated T, 2187

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Home -- Rated E, 1204 words Feeling It -- Rated T, 476 words Poetry -- Rated T, 1148 words The Alphabet of Allerasermic -- Rated E, 3442 words Borderline -- Rated T, 1347 words Nightmare -- Rated T, 526 words In the Dark, A Light -- Rated T, 607 words Negotiation -- Rated T, 746 words A Rarity -- Rated E, 1362 words Aphrodisiac -- Rated E, 1163 words Tender -- Rated E, 1680 words Kisses -- Rated M, 461 words

OVERWATCH

White Knight -- Rated E, 784 words Slowly Broken -- Rated M, 1687 words The Alphabet of Roadrat -- Rated E, 1568 words Cash Grab -- Rated E, 666 words Beasts and Other Wild Things -- Rated E, 7214 words Towels -- Rated E, 3086 words Whatever You Want -- Rated E, 1050 words Eager -- Rated E, 1219 words United -- Rated M, 1128 words Strong -- Rated E, 1071 words Something New -- Rated M, 1125 words Fleeting  -- Rated E, 1480 words Lalophobia -- Rated E, 984 words Money and Love -- Rated E, 3879 words Breathe -- Rated E, 1765 words Chase -- Rated E, 666 words Wishing -- Rated G, 608 words Funny Us -- Rated E, 6027 words Masked -- Rated E, 1465 words In His Skin -- Rated E, 1613 words Come Back -- Rated M, 1186 words Fire and Ice -- Rated G, 669 words Sin -- Rated E, 1405 words Fate -- Rated G, 1000 words Yoga -- Rated G, 273 words Better -- Rated E, 4894 words To Come True -- Rated G, 496 words Gentle -- Rated G, 446 words Just This About Us -- Rated E, 2081 words Up Some Nights -- Rated G, 437 words

NARUTO

Gentleness -- Rated E, 1552 words Things You Said too Quietly -- Rated G, 151 words Trust -- Rated E, 2226 words Drunken Lament -- Rated E, 2010 words Digital Ghost -- Rated E, 3747 words Evolution of Us -- Rated E, 47330 words Engagement -- Rated M, 1710 words Water -- Rated G, 1385 words

MISCELLANY

Sour Times -- Rated E, 2550 words -- Devil May Cry I See You -- Rated T, 1553 words -- DC Scientific Method -- Rated E, 3689 words -- DC Five Times the Boy Died -- Rated M, 4751 words -- Original Adventure -- Rated E, 2132 words -- Venom Mutual -- Rated E, 1183 words -- Venom Grow Proud -- Rated G, 750 Words -- Final Fantasy XIV Cycle -- Rated M, 811 words -- Left 4 Dead Something Less -- Rated G, 546 words -- Star Wars Nothing Else Matters -- Rated NR, 5312 words -- Trigun Apocraphy -- Rated NR, 817 words -- Steven Universe What’s in a Name -- Rated E, 2696 words -- Mad Max Easy -- Rated T, 342 words -- Outlast Live Again -- Rated T, 381 words -- Mad Max

[ironstrange-is-the-endgame]

I saw that you ship cablepool... and that « I am not buying ikea furniture again » line in the drabble prompts list seem to be perfect for them

Ok, this is my first time writing them and I really hope this doesn’t totally suck =) I had a lot of fun in doing this one, tbqh

90.  “I’m not buying Ikea furniture again.”

Honestly, that wasn’t technicallyyyyy Wade’s fault. It wasn’t his fault if he ran out of ammo and definitely wasn’t his fault if the bad guys decided to follow him. Technically, they could have gone for their own way and didn’t find their brains shattered against their floor. Like, he gave them a choice, or maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t like he remembered. Adrenaline and all that medical bullshits, whatever. It wasn’t Wade’s fault, but he did run out of ammo and it happened that they were near his and Nate’s place (is your name really Nate, like that golden boy from Gossip Girl? Yup, everyone seemed to ask the very same question once they knew his boyfriend’s name. So they went through all the six seasons of the show. Booooring and a story for another day). Wade pretty much decided that going home and take Cable’s big gun was his only way out of the mess so he started to ran up the stairs, and the bad guys followed him because they were stupid, and of course, thought it was a good idea following him. And people called him crazy, seriously? Anyway, he knew where Cable kept his big guns - well, the ones Wade was comfortable in sharing… ok, no, the metaphor didn’t work with Wilson, he’d gladly shared also the other big gun, maybe not with random and super stupid villains, but still - and so, yup, it took a couple of minutes for him to kill a couple of them and sending the remaining one flying toward…“Holy shit! Can you please don’t break Hamnes while you die?” And, of course, the idiot hit the fucking dresser while hitting his head against the wall. Which, well, let Wade with a lot to explain to Cable once the man walked through the destroyed door. “What the fuck…?” Wade really wished to be able to show his partner a video flashback or whatever because that would have been epic and useful. Instead, he stood there, taking his mask off while trying to explain what the fuck. Nate waited, then turned his eyes at the ceiling and walked in the other room, leaving with an “I’m not buying Ikea furniture again.” Which was definitely the most upsetting thing in the entire ordeal, if you ask Wade. He really loved his Hamnes.

send me a ship and a number / ask

[icarusredwings]

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry….Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

[skittering-roach]

Wade Wilson

Do you love/hate/don’t feel strongly about this character?

I love him! He’s my good, good, murder boy!

What’s your favorite trait of this character?

Probably how he interacts with the kids of the Marvel universe honestly. Like I love his humor and back story and that’s defiantly what pulled me in, but I love how he’s one of the only adults that isn’t constantly talking down to the younger heroes or lecturing them. He’s also one of the few that doesn't just give up on the kids that are “damaged” or have a high potential to go evil. And in return, the kids are some of the only characters that treat him like he’s a person, and they go to him when they need help they can’t go to others for, whether it be just to talk or to ‘take care’ of a situation in a way the other heroes might not approve of. 

And I freakin’ hate every time they either break him out of character or torture him by making him kill kids (or his few friends for that matter!). Like, could we please not have any more Deadpool kills the Marvel Universe? Please!

What’s your favorite moment/even involving this character?

In the movies, probably when he asked Rusty if the guys at the orphanage had been abusing him and when the kid said yes he just immediately shot them. I’d been wanted to see a “hero character” do that since I was a kid and it was so freakin’ cathartic!  

Also, when he told Colossus ‘The kid was being abused, you can tell, you can always tell!’ it just hit me so hard. 

In the comics, I’m not sure, but this was a pretty freakin’ good one! (warning for talk about suicide if you open the link)

If you could have one power/attribute/etc. of this character, what would it be?

Either his healing or his quick wit. 

Have you ever pictured this character naked?

Pretty sure I’ve gone done drawn him naked! Not that that much imagination is necessary, he’s been naked in comics more times than I can count.

When did you fall in love/hate with this character? If you don’t have any strong feelings toward them, why not?

I think you might have actually been the one who showed me this character and got me into him. So it might have been from reading one of your stories with him in it. Or from you showing me one of his comics.

Who’s your OTP for this character?

Cablepool! But also Wade/Death; let Thanos cry about it.

[sciderman]

Sci what's your opinion on Cablepool? What's holding them back, why can't they just bite the bullet and go for it? In your comics it seems like Nate's all in, so what's the problem?

short answer: it's complicated

as much as wade would like it to be so very uncomplicated

[x]

bad communication on both sides, me thinks.

i think the main thing for me that's the most important thing that makes wade and peter work where nate and wade fail is the balance of power! i think in wade's relationships as a whole there's often an unfair power dynamic because - not only does wade often feel unworthy, he's often in relationships with characters that literally overpower him. shiklah, ness and nate are all crazy freaky powerful, and even carmelita was domineering over wade.

historically, wade's always with very dominating partners who kind of want to control him. even nate - with all his best intentions - wanting to change wade for the better. i think it's why peter's breech of wade's trust during the break-up stung so much. he's tired of being constantly policed and judged and controlled in his relationships.

the theme of control is so prominent in the cable & deadpool series. it's everywhere. even in the costuming. the harness? the choker? y

LOOOOOAAAAADED.

(it's why when the popular demand for the choker to return won out, i had to give peter one too. for me the choker will always be loaded with metaphor. and the balance of power between wade and peter is so, so important to me.)

i've joked a little about how in most of 9319 wade's relationships prior to peter, he kind of exclusively bottomed. peter's the first male relationship where wade's been on top at all (save for bob. but there was no penetracíoné in that arrangement.) so this is all new territory for wade. he's never been in a relationship like this one before, where it's a mutual give-and-receive, and peter is just as emotionally vulnerable as he is.

in fact - you're more often to see peter wearing his choker than wade, because more often than not wade's in the position of power - power that's only granted to him by withholding his emotions, and peter often feels powerless with wade because of it.

wade's coming to terms with that - how much power he actually holds over peter. i think it kind of takes him aback constantly, because he's so used to being the fragile party in his previous relationships, and it's made him all the more guarded.

(it's also why he expects something sinister. peter's hiding something. there's no way this boy is actually this soft and well-intentioned. surely peter's somehow still holding the cards.)

fact is, neither of them are holding the cards. they've dropped the cards all over the floor and neither of them want to pick them up and they're both going to cry about it.

sorry - i got sidetracked. ough. cable. right. that's what we're here about.

the theme of power and control is so, so at the forefront of the cable and deadpool series. it's kind of always a see-saw of wade trying to navigate morally complex situations and nathan constantly interfering to sway him this way or that - and you're left questioning whether wade's really learning anything, or if nate just tricked him again.

the fact is, nathan wants to play saviour for wade. wants to save him. nathan has a god complex, and oftentimes messing with wade's free will in attempts to teach him a moral lesson.

nate wants to be wade's saviour, but wade doesn't need a saviour. wade needs to save himself.

in the end-up with the cable & deadpool series there is a resolution for wade, and it proves that wade did grow beyond just seeking nate's approval. (which he does, tirelessly.)

in the end-up, nathan's gone. and wade still steps up, in nate's stead. he doesn't need nate to be there anymore, holding his hand.

i think it's something the series could've done better - i think nate's kind of a jerk who's redeemed by self-sacrifice and i'm not about that. so while 616 wade's all sentimental about it in canon - 9319 wade is not so sweet about it at all.

9319 wade differs from 616 in that he stays salty. he doesn't learn a lesson. he stays needy and selfish and mad - mostly sad. i think i like that in characterisations of wade - that actually, he's not a hero. and he doesn't have to be. he's selfish. we all are. we don't have to save the world. sometimes it's enough to just survive it. i think that's what wade embodies, to me.

i don't think - practically - nate could've been everything wade wanted from him (what with all his gargantuan responsibilities and self-sacrificial tendencies etc. etc.) and wade, realistically, can't match nate's hopes for him either. he relapses practically every time nate leaves him, and his progress resets constantly because he's consistently hit with brick wall after brick wall of overpowered messiah bullshit that makes him feel inept and undeserving.

wade might want so very badly to be deserving of nate's love and approval, but the heroic stuff isn't built into his fibre. it's just not.

i can't stress it enough. wade does not want to be a hero. he just wants to suck and fuck and retire to the bahamas with the man of his dreams. he's a simple man.

the only reason he even tries playing hero is for the promise of love.

he does not want to have to prove himself over and over and over again to be worthy.

for god's fucking SAKE can't a guy just suck and fuck and retire to the bahamas with his loving boyfriend without having to fucking save the world every week! what the fuck! what is wrong with this fucking economy!!

in that way - nate just can't give wade the companionship he needs. nate has way too many responsibilties weighing on his massive shoulder pads. nate is always going to be making sacrifices. it's in his nature. but wade - wade's constantly losing what he loves, non-voluntarily. he's sick of the sacrifice. he doesn't want to lose anymore.

for once, wade just wants his fucking happily ever after.

[cablesummerss]

cablepool for the meme

[Send me a ship and I’ll tell you meme: OPEN]

Who asks the other on dates: Wade. Nathan is more than content lurking around the apartment and keeping his eye on the news, scoping through various internet channels, and listening to police scanners for any signs of trouble. Prepared to strap on his gear and go running to meet it, head-first. Wade makes him take breaks, real ones, and will drag him out to go do something that doesn’t have to do with saving the world.Who is the bigger cuddler: Wade. He needs touch like he needs air. Nathan doesn’t hold back but he mostly doesn’t have to initiate cuddles because Wade’s already on him like glue.Who initiates holding hands more often: Nate, usually because he’s trying to keep Wade’s attention or stop him from wandering off.Who remembers anniversaries: Nate. Moments and marks in time are important to him and he just has a head for remembering them.Who is more possessive: Equally possessive. They have their own ways of showing it.Who gets more jealous: Again, it’s equal. They have a very trusting relationship despite Wade’s outrageous ways of flirting with literally everyone. They have a healthy amount of jealousy. Not in the all-out fight kind of way, but in the eyebrows up in mild concern way. They’ve never had a fight about suspicion. Who is more protective: Nathan. It’s just who he is. Wade has a habit of not caring if he’s in danger, emotionally or physically. He throws himself under the bus before anybody else can and Nathan has to protect Wade from his own self sometimes. Remind him that he’s worthy of being loved.Who is more likely to cheat: Neither. Both are loyal to a fault.Who initiates sexy times the most: Depends on the universe. But in our Main Verse, it’s usually Wade.Who dislikes PDA the most: Nathan. He’s usually trying to accomplish something when he’s out and about and PDA isn’t bad, it’s just distracting. Wade can fucking wait until they’re home and not at the farmer’s market while Nathan is trying to haggle down the price of fall squash.Who kills the spider: Nathan. And he doesn’t kill it. He traps it in a glass and tosses it outside.Who asks the the other to marry them: Nathan. He thinks ahead about these types of things and just sort of beats Wade to the punch.Who buys the other flowers or gifts: One of Wade’s love languages is gift-giving, so Nate tries to buy him little things to make Wade feel special. Sometimes it’s a seasonal version of his favorite snack. Sometimes it’s a stupid little Funko Pop of a glow-in-the-dark Twinkie the Kid.Who would bring up possibly having kids: Wade, mostly as a joke.Who is more nervous to meet the parents: Nathan is nervous, but about Wade meeting his parents. He knows that Wade is a bit odd. And he worries about disappointing his parents while not caring what they think at the same time. It’s perplexing but Nathan would trust Wade to be on his best behavior.Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry: Wade, just to have access to the TV.Who tries to make up first after arguments: Nathan, because he’s more likely to talk about his emotions.Who tells the other they love them more often: Wade. He’s just more verbal in general.

Thanks for supporting me and my idiot, dad. I hope?

[nathanielbooks]

tag nine ppl you wanna know better

i was tagged by @littlelcnterns to do this! just as a rule, i like to answer these, but i don’t want to tag anyone who wouldn’t want to be tagged, so if you see this and want to do it go ahead!!! 

relationship status: single favorite color: red! top three favorite ships: this would break my brain to do my top 3 ships of all time but at the moment: symbrock. cablepool, and john/rook from fc5 bc i’m trash lipstick or chapstick: chapstick! last song: battle born by the killers last movie: i haven’t watched very many movies lately! it was probably either venom. for tv shows ive been binging bojack horseman for the 3rd time (which is my #1 fav tv show of all time) last book: last finished book was full dark no stars by stephen king (”finished” in the sense that i p much read all the short stories in the collection that i wanted to read).  currently reading: i’m halfway through the gentleman’s guide for vice and virtue. after this, i’m picking up the terror by dan simmons at the bookstore and will probably start after i finish reading i’ll be gone in the dark, which i started at the beginning of the semester and am slowly making my way through. actually, i read a ton for school and just for fun. let me know if you guys would like a monthly tbr starting next year! fanfiction: the reason why i don’t read as many physical books. it’s way to easy to just read a 70k fic on my phone wlkfjdsk

[queen-0f-the-nerds]

Men with the Lip Balm Tattoos

I FINALLY finished another Cablepool prompt! I’m so sorry it’s taking me so long, life really likes to get in the way of my writing. This is for @lookturtles prompt “Deadpool and Cable have to share a bed and end up cuddling. Soulmate AU - much to their carnage.” Hope you like it!

“Goddammit.”

Deadpool looked past Cable and started his dingy motel room checklist. Moldy carpet? Check. Single flickering light? Yep. Peeling wallpaper, no couch? Nothing surprising there. Door that either leads to the bathroom or a murderer’s basement? Of course. Bed coated in suspicious stains…wait.

“Shit.”

Nate sighed loudly and kicked the door shut. “You said there were two beds.” He began stripping out of his outer layers, carefully laying down his guns.

“I thought there were!” Wade said defensively, dumping his weapons and mask in a pile by the door and collapsing dramatically on the bed.

Nate rolled his eyes and picked up Wade’s weapons, placing them with care with his guns. “How about next time, you let me handle it?”

“What, with your special powers?” Despite his voice being slightly muffled by a pillow, Wade’s mockery was crystal clear.

“It’s called telepathy dipshit.”

“Oooh, big word for a little guy!”

Deadpool let out a very manly shriek as a metal hand closed around the back of his neck and threw him across the room. Cable settled on the now vacant bed, closed his eyes, and used telekinesis to turn out the light.

Wade’s face popped up beside the bed. “Heeeeeeey, big guy, how about we share the bed?”

A derisive snort was the only answer.

“C’mon…pleeeeease?” Wade gave his best puppy-dog eyes and exaggerated pout, slowly inching his way onto the bed.

Nate made the mistake of looking at him. “Ugh. Fine. Just stop looking at me like that. You look like a perverted baby.” Wade flung himself onto the bed aggressively enough to make the frame creak ominously.

“Don’t break the bed fuckface!” Nate whacked him upside the head.

“Sorry not sorry,” Wade whispered. There was silence for a few minutes as the two men shifted around, trying to get comfortable on one of the lumpiest mattresses ever discovered.

“Hey Nate?”

“What. Now.”

“Can you tell me a bedtime story?”

“Go the fuck to sleep!”

“Not that one, I’ve read it bef—” His whining was interrupted by Cable shoving a pillow in his mouth. Rude.

Wade woke up slowly, comfortably cocooned in a wondrous warmth. He nestled further into the warmth, which seemed to be coming from behind him…wait. Behind him?

“Why are you big spoon?!”

Nate jolted awake at Wade’s half-shout, arms tightening instinctively around Wade’s waist. His eyes snapped open and he stared down at their spooning bodies; a moment later, he flung himself off the bed, swearing up a storm and using a pillow to hide his – rather substantial – shame.

Unlike Nate, Wade made no effort to hide his morning wood. “I’m taller, I should be big spoon! Not that I don’t appreciate your junk poking my trunk.” Wade waggled his eyebrows at Nate’s pillow-covered crotch, absentmindedly scratching his left butt cheek.

Nate pinched his eyes shut. “Stop. Talking.” He rubbed at his right hip, shirt riding up a bit.

“Is that a tattoo?!?” Wade gasped dramatically, eyes wide, mouth gaping, one hand vigorously pointing at Nate; the other was still down his pants.

Nate glanced down at his hip and dropped the pillow in shock. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“When did you get a tattoo of lip balm?” Wade looked like both his birthday and Christmas had arrived early.

“It’s not a tattoo,” muttered Nate.

“What?”

Nate cleared his throat. “It’s not a tattoo. It’s a mark.”

“A mark?”

“A soul mark dumbass.”

Wade gawped in disbelief at Nate, still scratching his ass. “How do you know it’s not a tattoo?” he demanded.

Nate rolled his eyes so hard it must have hurt. “I wouldn’t get a tattoo of lip balm, you deformed fleshlight. And itching is a symptom of new soul marks.” He continued to rub at his mark.

“Well, I’m not itchy, so it can’t be a soul mark,” said Wade with the stubbornness of a petulant child.

Nate gave in to the urge that had been steadily building since he woke and facepalmed. “You literally haven’t stopped scratching your ass since we woke up.”

Wade did several things nigh simultaneously: he ripped his hand out of his pants, dropped-trou, and craned his head to take at gander at his own ass. Which led to a few minutes of Wade spinning in circles trying to see his left cheek, appearing quite a lot like a dog chasing its tail.

Nate’s metal hand grabbed Wade’s face, stopping his ridiculous spinning. “Go look in the mirror, fuckface.”

“Oooor…you could look.” Wade wiggled his eyebrows again, apparently attempting to be seductive while standing with his pants around his ankles.

“What.” Nate sounded so done with all this horseshit.

“Don’t you want to see your soulmate’s ass? Check out this prime hunk of grade A beefsteak?” He tried to shimmy against Nate, who simply cocked an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen it. Wasn’t that impressed,” deadpanned Nate.

“How dare you sir?! I’ll have you know wars have been fought over this booty! People bled and died for the honour of merely being in its presence!”

“Is that so?”

“Indeedio! I do believe I must remove myself from your ungrateful company, posthaste!” Nate let Wade go with a shove that sent him stumbling towards the bathroom.

“Just go look in the mirror fuckwit.”

Grumbling, Wade complied. There was silence from the tiny bathroom for a moment before he burst back out and promptly tripped over his pants, which he still hadn’t bothered to pull up.

“WE’RE SOULMATES!?” Wade screamed into the carpet.

“You really thought I’d make that up?”

“I don’t know! I just wasn’t expecting my soulmate to be a short, old, racist guy from the future! And now I have goddamn lip balm on my ass!” Wade banged his forehead on the floor.

“Why do I have to keep telling you: I’m not racist, you jabbering buttplug!”

Wade waved aside Nate’s denial. “Details, details. The important thing is, you’re shorter than me, and yet you’re the big spoon! What’s with that? And my mark’s on my ass! Why does this author think I’m such a bottom?”

“…what author?”

“I mean, I’m not a total pillow princess! I’m a manly-man! Maybe, MAYBE, I’m a power bottom! But just because a guy likes to get pegged doesn’t mean he’s a bottom! Clearly, I am in control of this partnership. Obviously, this author is just an idiot. I’m totally the top—” Wade cut himself off with a shriek as his ass was smacked, right on the mark. He gazed up from the floor to see Nate kneeling beside him, hand extended. “Did you just spank me?!”

“Got you to shut up, didn’t it?” Nate smirked. “Besides, you’re definitely a bratty bottom.” He stood and moved over to the weapons. “Hurry up. We got a lot to do today. If you behave, I’ll give you a nice treat, handsome.” He winked at Wade for good measure.

Wade took a deep breath before standing. This was going to be a fun day.