•abuse of substances (alcohol and nicotine)
•horrible miscommunication
(THIS IS ALL AFTER VANESSA AND WADE BREAK UP, I DO NOT CONDOL CHEATING, YOU LITTLE UNICORNS!!!!)
you didn’t want to be sitting at the bar with a guy you barely knew, but sometimes you just don’t get what you want.
you nodded briefly at the man sitting next to you who was on a rant about some business deal you honestly couldn’t careless about. you felt bad at the beginning for even entertaining the idea of going on a date with him, but then the guilt was over thrown by max force with annoyance as the man never seemed to shut up.
here’s the thing about you, you hated talking, but along side not liking talking, you hated when others talked to you. liked being alone, no, not liked, just more comfortable. you grew up forced to be an introvert, which soon became your whole personality. though over time, the whole introvert act, just became asshole act. you were mean, you knew that. you pushed every single person away. hating all their presences, getting annoyed by things they couldn’t help, like a twitch of the eye or a lisp.
you were just a border line asshole, but you had a good job which made you good money, so who the fuck cares about having a good personality?
except, all of that was a lie. sure, you were a huge asshole, you knew that, accepted it, even appreciated it a few times when it came to border line annoying people. but you didn’t hate everyone. you didn’t find everyone absolutely annoying. you didn’t hate all chatter boxes.
no, you enjoyed his chatter mouth. you enjoyed his annoying little quirks, you enjoyed his tendencies to rant about whatever, whenever. you liked his silly jokes, you liked the way he wore clothes -even if they made him look weird, like those cartoon unicorn merch shirts? yeah they’re fucking annoying, but on him? bitch, i fucking love that show-. you enjoyed the way he could go on about anything, you didn’t just like him, but you weren’t ready to admit that, not to yourself, and especially not him.
especially right now, since he sent you a text saying, “hey, i’m leaving town, i won’t be able to talk for a little bit,” and then proceeded to ignore for a few months. like, what?
you understood what he meant about needed time for his job, which you also knew after he drunkenly told you about his job and all that -and you still stayed by his side, just needing a little time for that information to settle- you gave him time, but three weeks, no talk? no text? nothing saying, “hey, i’m alive, few cuts and scratches, but i’m breathing,” then going back to ignoring you.
so worry ate and ate at you. you’ve stayed up almost every single night, until finally you drank yourself dumb. now that sounds ridiculous, right? who stays up worrying every night for some guy?
first, you need to understand where you sit with the man. you haven’t known him long, just a year and five or take a few months prior his disappearance. but within that year, actually, within the month of knowing him, you had the biggest transition of your life.
your first meeting with Wade Wilson will always be one of your most weirdest night -and best blessing- of your life.
“wow, that’s a whole shit ton of alcohol,” a man’s voice showed up next to you and you flinched at the sudden interruption of your brooding silence.
you grunted and swung your head back, downing the rest of the bottle.
“so someone’s had a rough day,” the cheery voice says as he slides into the booth across from you. you slam your bottle down and glare at him. you’re stunned by his face though. he doesn’t have eyebrows, hair, none of that.
“take a picture, it’ll last longer, cutie pie,” he winks but you can see the hurt in his eyes. guilt consumes you immediately when you realized you were staring in such a rude way.
“nah, i’m not a picture person,” you muttered as you signaled the waitress. she nodded at you, mentally saying she’ll meet with you in a little.
“really? you look like you do photography,” he leans on his hand and you sigh.
“is there a reason you’re sitting with me?” you asked as you met his eyes, your usual glare staring him down. yet he simply smiles in a sort of giddy way, making him look, gay or child like, which sounds bad, but that’s just what he looks like.
“nope, actually, i chose the most depressing, most lonely looking person and sat with them, i got a bet going on with a buddy over there,” he nods his head.
you don’t bother turning your head and simply nodded, “what’s the bet?” you grumbled out. though he couldn’t answer because a woman’s voice came up from next to you.
“hello, sorry for the wait,” she chuckles nervously. you turn your glaring gaze over at her and nod, “it’s uh, very busy tonight.”
you nod in understanding, but by the way she looks around nervously, you don’t look very understanding.
“just another beer,” you looked over at the man who was simply watching the interaction, “and uh, one for him,” you nod at him. you still felt a fading guilt from before.
she nods her head and walks away with a nervous smile.
“man, you have a HARD rbf, sister,” he speaks up as you turn back to him, rolling your eyes.
“i’m for real! you had her shaking in her pretty lil boots, matey!” he suddenly had a pirate accent. you gave him a sort of look that said, ‘tf are you on???’
“yeah, whatever, anyways, what was the bet?” you asked, steering the conversation back to the main topic.
“if i could get your number,” he said in a oddly cheery voice when saying those words.
“what?” you asked in a ‘blown out of this fucking world’ way.
he shrugs, “well, when he first say you, he was like, ‘holy shit Wade, look at that chick,’ and when i turned to look, i thought he was talking about that lady over there with the mohawk,” he nods his head over to the side where you took a glance at -and there was a woman with a bright blue mohawk and grinning face as she flirted drunkenly with another woman who just smiled fondly at her- “but i was like, ‘what? that’s clearly her girlfriend,’ and he was like, ‘who tf you talking about, Wade?’ and so i pointed out mohawk girly and he was like, ‘no, you dumbass,’ which hurts my feelings because i am NOT a dumbass, anyways, he goes on about how he was talking about YOU and i was like, ‘wow, she needs some pinky pie in her life’,” you felt your face reel back a little in confusion about who the hell pinky pie was, but still let him finish his story, “and then BOOM, here i am, blessing your presence with, well, me,” he winked.
you stared at him before your eyes widened in realization, not once were you annoyed. actually, you liked the little rant, it confused you sometimes, but still.
you look down at the table and chuckled before looking back up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips.
his eyes widened and a very childish grin pulled on his own lips, “you’re smiling! see, you’re not so macho man, cold hearted looking when you smile, senorita!”
you stared at him before looking around. you looked at the back pack -which of course is yours because stealing is very bad >:( - and you pull out a pen. you grabbed a napkin from the napkin dispenser and quickly wrote down your phone number.
your smile had already dropped, your face going back into its resting bitch face, but something about how light your eyes looked, told Wade you just might now be this whole ‘macho man, cold hearted’ human being.
you slid the paper across the table, “you won the bet,” you said as you looked back at your backpack and slipped your own back into it.
just then, two glass beers slammed onto the table, which the waitress apologized for the loud slam before running back to help with some rowdy guys.
he took one beer and you took yours, taking a few gulps before looking back at him.
“i’ll text then, princess,” he winked, “now,” he sighs as he places his scarred hands on the table and stood up from the booth, “i’ll leave you to your brooding silence.”
though something ached, you wanted him to stay you realized. you feel your eyes widen and your face heat up fast at the thought. you.. wanted a chatter box to stay?
you quickly stammered out, “yeah, okay, bye,” which sounded awkward and sterner, but he simply laughed and bowed in a sort of prince type way before walking to his friend.
you instantly put your hands to your face and pressed your cheeks down, you felt insane.
of course, that was only the beginning. you got back to your apartment just a few minutes after Wade talked to you. you felt to conscious knowing that the man who made you flush like that could see you, so you made a run for it.
your apartment complex isn’t far from the said bar, just a mile walk, give or take a few feet. knowing you don’t have to walk far is what gives you confidence to walk in the dark, well and the fact that little to no people talk with you, much less interact with you, unless it’s for work or in general need you. which even then, you’re last resort.
you had planned on staying at the bar till it closes, 3am, because you don’t have work the next day. you work five days out of the week, getting Sunday and Monday off.
usually on work nights, you go home and smoke away, fucking your lungs real bad. but, you couldn’t careless. the constant mental stress and aches was to much, you needed an out, nicotine was your way. well, and alcohol.
right as you got home, you slipped your shoes off, jumped into your bed, and freaked out over what had happened. the question toying with your mind at a constant was, “why was he different?”
and you haven’t gotten an answer yet, not even during present time. that’s a question you constantly asked, “why, out of the 8 billion of human beings, and the good amount of the ones you met, why was he the only one? you could just barely stand your family, you barely could stand your work mates, why could you stand him, even more, why did you enjoy him and yearn for him? you don’t fucking know why.”
you finally fell asleep, and you liked how you. you liked how you fell asleep to thinking of the scarred man, rather than the ugly thoughts that plague your mind at an almost constant.
but your sleep was awoken by the buzz, and quite frankly, loud notifications.
you groaned as you flipped your phone on its back and peered at the notifications. a random number. you groaned in confusion before sleep took over you once more.
only in the morning did you see that it was Wade who spammed you at 1 in the morning on a very late Saturday night, very fucking early Sunday morning.
which that text lead to many hang outs, sleepovers, calls, face times, yapping sessions. it lead to many moments between you two. with the both of you appreciating all the nice warm moments, and even the cold moments. you both matched each other.
which leads you to the days of no contact on Wade’s side. at first, you were fine. that lasted a few days. then worry started nipping at your confidence that he was a fucking okay. then the nipping turned to tsunami’s after two weeks of zero contact. you called him a few times, not trying to be over bearing or possessive, i mean,. you guys weren’t dating or anything.
you texted at least once ever two days, but that stopped three weeks into the no contact. then you accepted it. you cried about it to, which you weren’t the crier type, or at least not for real life situations, you were a big crier for sad movies.
you hated everything about yourself and cursed yourself for running out the only good in your life. then it started messing up your work life, which when you admitted it all to your boss -who’s actually a very nice old man- he said to take leave for two weeks. which you did, but when you came back, you had a front. you did your job perfectly, just as normal, but panic attacks arose every time you thought about how you were such a dick head, that the nicest person, most beautiful, heart warming, chatter box of a man left you.
then from a pack of cigarettes a week, turned to three. sleepless nights got more frequent, you felt like an obsessive ex. you hated how you were acting, you knew it wasn’t fair for Wade. he didn’t deserve it. every time you got home, you’d feel empty, every time you went to work, you’d be empty.
then the suicidal thoughts came in. the thoughts saying how useless you were, how utterly stupid and horrible of a human being to have had pushed away the only good of your life.
you often laid in your bed, cigarette hanging from the mouth and bottle in your hands, you’d wish the cigarette would catch the blanket on fire. you fantasized it.
then you went into accepting it. you accepted you weren’t good enough, which you knew from the beginning. the cigarettes didn’t go down, but you slowed down on the alcohol. and with your brothers help, you started working on yourself. first, you started eating more. sleepless nights stayed, crying in the shower stayed, negative thoughts stayed, but the suicide thoughts slowed down.
then it all came crashing the fuck down.
you typed on your computer in your office. you were a lawyer, a really good one at that. you had your own office and were in a very high position.
you were looking into a case you had been given a few days ago. it was a little girl and her family going against her rapist, though the family has little to no proof.
you’re currently writing an email to the detective who’s leading the team operation on the case, asking for details of everything and a possible interview with her.
youre about halfway through the email, on a roll of sounding professional and a good, hardworking focus, when a knock is on your door.
you don’t break your gaze from the computer when you answer the said door, “come in,” you speak in a sort of distracted voice.
the person walks in and you hold your finger up, telling them to pause what they’re going to say. you finish up the email fast, adding your ending words, before sighing and clicking send. you close your eyes, wishing people would just leave you alone, but the reminder that you’re a superior now nips at your mind.
you look up, ready to ask them what they needed but all words froze as your eyes widened.
there stood the one man you were depressed over.
it’s quiet as he smiles in a nervous way. you don’t break eye contact as he begins to speak, “i’m back,” his voice croaked out.
you’re shocked, nothing more and nothing less, at least, not yet.
“holy fuck,” you muttered under your breath, “holy fuck..” you muttered again as you stared at the much alive man.
“holy fuck.” you said louder now, “oh my gosh, holy mother fucking fuck.” he gives you an odd look.
“i didn’t think there was something holy about fuck, it’s more sinful-” though before he can finish, your plastic cup of pencils flies at his face.
his eyes widened as they hit him square in the face, he knows he could’ve dodged it, but he knew what you were doing.
“well, that’s a welcome home,” he said as he rubbed his head.
it went quiet again before you breathed and closed your computer. you finally realized someone else was with Wade. a gruff looking man, and he looks like he’s angry, but also calm. you already feel for this man. his RBF seems serious.
you bent and placed the computer into your bag before walking around the desk and out of the office. both boys followed you out as you locked up your office for the day. you walked to your secretary and told him you’re leaving for the day, which he nodded politely and instantly went to report it to the higher ups. you nodded at his work and wished him a good day before walking, not looking back at the two men.
Wade and Logan looked at each other and Wade shrugged, though he knew what was gonna happen. he suddenly regretted bringing Logan to prove that the woman he ranted about constantly was real.
they got outside the building and Wade told Logan to hang back a little, which Logan responded with, “sounds good to me, she looks pissed.”
he ran to catch up to you, walking by your side.
“so… how are you, pumpkin?” the nickname hit you hard as tears filled your eyes.
“you’re such a fucking dick,” you muttered and he heard you. you refused to look at him, and something in Wade broke. he wondered if you were disgusted by him now, since he had ditched you completely.
“i know,” he let out a humorless chuckle, “look, reader, i’m sorry,” he says as he stares at he side of your face.
you shook your head no, multiple times, “shut up, Wade, please, just, shut up,” that was the first time you’ve ever actually said shut up to him. no matter the rants he’d go off on, no matter the timing, you never said it. which he noted, and so did you.
it didn’t feel right on your tongue, saying shut up, to Wade? never, you never would’ve thought you would. i mean, even right now, you didn’t really want that. you wanted him to apologize again and again, and for her to tell him how worried she was. she wanted him to give him a reason, a good reason as to why he ghosted you. but instead, he went quiet. you both walked together and soon enough, Wade signaled for Logan to go back to the apartment the two of them had been in only for a few seconds before Wade was right out the door to find you.
Logan listened, which is a little surprising, and went his way to find the apartment.
the two of you got to your apartment, and by then a few tears slipped from your eyes.
you entered your home and shut the door with a slam before moving your face up and looking at Wade. you were glaring, and again, this was one of your first times besides when the two of you first met.
“is this how everyone else you look at feel?” he asked with a nervous chuckle. you didn’t budge.
“where have you been.” you demanded and you recieved.
he gave you a good answer. saving the world, all that stuff. it was actually one of the only answers you would’ve accepted.
so by the end of it, you stared at the ground. hurt filled you, so did anger and guilt. tears then fell freely, landing on your knees.
“hey, hey, hey,” he spoke in a gentle voice as he got to his knees in front of you and held your face in his hands, “come on, don’t cry,” he said quietly.
you stared into his eyes and more tears fell, blurring your vision, “i missed you,” you said in a sort of broken voice, “i’m sorry for being selfish,” you broke out.
he stared at you in a guilt way, “no, look, it’s not your fault, hey, come on, look at me will you?” he asked as he guided his hand a little under your chin to move your head back up to meet his. he then smiled at finally getting your attention.
“see, you look better when you look at me,” he said softly, “now come on, it was my fault, senorita,” you laugh at the spanish term since he has a bad accent.
“there you go, you look more beautiful when you smile, my little grumpy cat,” and you let out another laugh.
before you could react, you stood up and grabbed his hand so he stands with you. a smile still nodded its way on your lips, but this time, you wanted your smile on his. you wanted to kiss him.
“you let without a word,” you noted and he nodded his head.
“yes, but technically no, since i did text you,” though his voice went quiet when he saw your payment.
he let out a laugh but it quieted when he saw you were budging, “really? what, you wanna knuckle sandwich to the face? a good free hit?”
you were fast to agree, “yes.”
“i said yes, i want to punch you in the face. i mean, you have your regenerative ability thing, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“uh pain, rarity,” he often called you that one pony from that cartoon, you never minded then, you never minded now.
“well, that’s what i want.”
he looked at you with wide eyes and when seeing your unmoving desire to punch him in the face, he sighed.
“you’ve never liked violence though,” he whined as he left he arms drop to his side.
“is that a yes?” you asked.
“no,” he sighed dramatically, “do your worst, grouch face.”
you reeled your arm back and he squinted his eyes shut, moving his head down and to the side, preparing for the punch.
but he was preparing for the wrong punch.
your hand went in front of you and you grabbed him around the neck, your lips meeting his. you pressed harshly against his lips and his eyes widened like saucers.
he started to talk against your lips, you simply took the opportunity to shove your tongue in his own.
he went quiet and instead started pressing more against you. he pressed his own lips to yours and faught your tongue with his.
you started pushing him back, causing him to press his back to the wall and him in a sort of crouched position and you in between his legs.
he was very confused, but still loving it all. he went to talk again, but he recieved a harsh bite to the lip and then your tongue practically down his throat.
finally, he accepted that this was happening, and he let his hands travel up your white button up. your own hands had one behind his neck, pushing him to you, the other was in his bent-ish thigh.
the two of you pulled back, your button up with now a few buttons popped off, your solid black push up bra exposed, your usual dress pants was shuffled down just a little, exposing more skin on your waist. Wade’s shirt had been pulled over his head already and his pants had hiked down just a little due to the wall pressing against him.
you both panted, you’ve been at it for a while, but finally, you both pulled back.
you were panting, same as Wade. you met his eyes, both of you dazed and fuzzy brained.
“well damn, sailor, didn’t know you could do that,” Wade said in a hushed voice and you chuckled.
though your smile fell as you started to pull back and away from him. “i’m uh, sorry,” you whispered out. though you couldn’t get to far before you were pulled into an embrace.
his arms wrapped around you tightly, “please don’t apologize for making my wet dreams come true,” he said in a hushed voice.
blush scattered your face, yet you still wrapped your arms around him.
“… sorry…” you muttered against his shirtless chest. goodness, this man was toned, but like in the cute way, in the Wade way.
“don’t apologize for that either,” he muttered, “apologize about not kissing me more.”
“then,” you pulled back just enough to look up but still in his arms and looked up at him, “i’m sorry for stopping for a breather,” then you dragged your arm up and pulled him back down.
the way your fingers dragged on his skin sent shivers, the way his lips moved against your own made all your dreams of kissing -and much worse- dispersed. you were gonna be with him from now on, and if God punishes you by taking him away in any way, you knew you wouldn’t survive.
