Fated || Deadpool x wolverine x m!reader

6

"Not bad enough to call it quits, but bad enough that I can't walk home."

"Damn, alright," Ian said, already sounding like he was moving. "Where are you?"

Y/n rattled off the address, glancing back at the apartment door as he spoke.

"Got it. I'll be there in a minute," Ian said. "You sure you're good to wait?"

"I'll manage," Y/n muttered. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Just sit tight." Ian said before the call ended.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Y/n pushed off the wall and made his way toward the stairs. Each step was slow, deliberate, as he navigated the pain in his stomach and thigh.

By the time he reached the street level, the cool morning air hit his face like a balm, refreshing after the cramped apartment.

The city was already alive with noise, cars honking, people chatting, the distant rumble of construction. Y/n stepped out into the chaos, carefully blending into the flow of foot traffic.

The apartment building disappeared behind him, and with it, the weight of Wade's constant banter and Logan's brooding presence.

Y/n stopped in front of a quiet coffee shop, the aroma of roasted beans and pastries wafting through the air. He leaned against the storefront, wincing as his stomach reminded him that his healing factor wasn't up to par.

The city moved around him in its usual chaos, but Y/n kept his focus on the street ahead. It didn't take long before a familiar white HR-V rolled up to the curb. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing Ian behind the wheel.

Ian was in his late twenties, tall and lean, with a comma haircut and a sharp jawline that always made him look like he was about to head into a GQ photoshoot if said photoshoot allowed leather jackets and a permanent scowl. His brown eyes landed on Y/n, and he gestured toward the passenger seat.

"Get in, dookie," Ian said with a smirk. "You look like you got hit by a truck. Twice."

Y/n huffed a tired laugh, limping his way to the passenger door. "More like stabbed. Repeatedly. By a guy with claws."

Ian raised an eyebrow as Y/n slid into the seat, closing the door behind him. "Claws??"

"Long, metal ones," Y/n clarified, settling into the seat with a wince. "Dude's basically a walking can opener."

Ian let out a low whistle, pulling away from the curb. "Damn. I've heard of some freaky shit in this line of work, but that's a new one." He glanced at Y/n's bandaged stomach. "You good, though? Or are you gonna bleed all over my car?"

"I'm not gonna bleed in your car," Y/n muttered, tugging his jacket tighter around himself. "It's mostly stopped."

"Mostly?" Ian shot him a side-eye. "Great. Guess I'll just add 'possible murder scene' to my car's vibe."

Y/n smirked faintly, resting his head back against the seat. "Relax. You've had worse passengers."

"True," Ian admitted. "Remember that one guy who threw up in the backseat? Never doing a job with him again."

"Yeah, well," Y/n muttered, closing his eyes for a moment. "At least I didn't puke."

Ian snorted. "Fair point."

The car lapsed into silence for a few minutes, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space. Ian's gaze darted toward Y/n occasionally, concern flickering across his face despite his usual sarcasm. Finally, he broke the silence.

"So," Ian began, his tone more cautious now. "You wanna tell me what really happened? 'Cause I'm getting the feeling this wasn't just some random job gone sideways."

Y/n sighed, his fingers brushing against the bandage beneath his jacket. "It's complicated."

Ian gave him a pointed look. "Everything's complicated with you. Try me."

Y/n hesitated, debating how much to say. Ian was one of the few people he trusted in this bloody industry, but the whole soulmate situation? That was a different level of insanity.

"There were...complications," Y/n finally said, avoiding Ian's gaze. "Ran into two guys. One of them was the claw guy. The other...I don't even know how to describe him. Red suit, talks way too much, acts like he's on a sugar high."

Ian's eyebrows shot up. "Wait. Red suit? Like, bright red?"

"Yeah."

"And talks a lot?"

"Nonstop."

Ian let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You ran into Deadpool?"

Y/n frowned. "You know him?"

"Not personally," Ian said. "But you can't be in this business without hearing about him. He's like...a legend, but not the good kind. More like the 'this guy's insane, stay out of his way' kind."

"Sounds about right," Y/n muttered.

Ian glanced at him again, his expression curious. "So, what'd they want with you?"

"They didn't want anything," Y/n said, rubbing the back of his neck. "They just... showed up. Made a mess. One of them stabbed me, the other patched me up. It was weird."

Ian smirked. "Weird like 'these guys are dangerous,' or weird like 'these guys are following me home'?"

Y/n didn't answer, the weight of the bond humming faintly in his chest. Ian's smirk faded slightly as he studied Y/n's face.

"You're not telling me everything," Ian said quietly.

"Yeah," Y/n admitted.

Ian didn't push further. Instead, he gave a small nod and turned his attention back to the road. "Alright. I'll drop it for now. But if those guys come sniffing around again, you call me. Got it?"

"Mmhm" Y/n replied, grateful for the reprieve.

The car fell into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Ian drove with practiced ease, weaving through the city streets like he'd been born to it. Y/n leaned back, letting the quiet settle over him as the tension in his body began to unwind.