My Merc. (deadpool x reader)

The taxi ride was relatively quiet—if you ignored the obnoxious, ear-piercing slurping sounds coming from Colossus as he desperately tried to suck the last few drops of soda from his cup. The sound made your eye twitch. It was like nails on a chalkboard, an endless schhhllrrrrrp that made you want to shove that straw so far down his throat he'd be tasting plastic for weeks.

You were uncomfortably squished in the backseat, wedged between the human tin can on your left—his bulky metal elbow pressing against the side of your head—and Negasonic on your right, who sat completely unbothered, watching the city blur past the window.

To make matters worse, you weren't exactly a physical touch kind of person. It wasn't that you didn't want to be—it was just... complicated. Every time someone laid their hands on you, it was to hurt you. So, feeling Colossus practically caging you in like some overgrown metal armrest? Yeah, not great for your mental state.

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, your breathing turning sharp and uneven. You could feel your pulse hammering against your ribs, and for a second, you wondered if you were going to explode. Your fingers twitched, the overwhelming need to do something—lash out, move, anything—itching under your skin like an unbearable burn.

Wade noticed immediately. He always did.

From his spot in the front seat, he watched you through the rearview mirror, his eyes darkening beneath his mask. He saw the way your hands trembled slightly, how your jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder your teeth didn't crack, and the way your breathing came in shallow, ragged bursts. You looked like you were on the verge of murdering everyone in this cab... and then probably yourself.

That's when Wade got an idea.

A bad one.

(As always.)

"Yo, sweetcheeks," he called, his voice casual but with a hint of something softer. "Maybe you wanna sit up here with me?"

You barely reacted. You had heard him, sure, but the words felt distant, like they weren't meant for you. Your mind was drowning in white noise, and you couldn't pull yourself out of it.

Wade sighed. "Alright, guess I gotta do this the fun way."

Before you even had time to register what was happening, Wade twisted around in his seat, reached into the back, and wrapped his arms firmly around your waist.

Then?

He yanked you forward.

Your body lurched as he pulled you straight into his lap, and your instincts immediately kicked in. You weren't thinking—your hand moved on its own, slipping down to your boot where you always kept a small, concealed knife (A/n if you can guess what knife this is, your awesome!!). The cold handle was in your grip within seconds, and before you could stop yourself, you stabbed Wade in the neck.

The blade sank in easily.

"Oh-ho-ho!" Wade laughed, completely unfazed by the fact that there was now a knife lodged in his throat. "That tickled."

You snapped out of your daze instantly, your eyes widening in horror. "Shit!"

Wade just grinned. "Damn, babe, if you wanted to get rough, you could've just asked."

You ripped the knife from his neck, your hands shaking slightly. "I—you grabbed me! What did you expect me to do?!"

"I dunno, maybe swoon a little?" Wade teased, blood oozing from the wound before it quickly healed over. "Gasp dramatically? Whisper 'Oh, my hero!'?"

You groaned, dropping your head against his shoulder. "I hate you."

Wade chuckled, his grip on you shifting into something softer. His hands smoothed over your thighs, rubbing slow, calming circles over the fabric of your pants. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his usual loud, chaotic energy.

And, despite yourself, you did feel calmer.

Negasonic finally turned away from the window, glancing at the two of you before rolling her eyes. "You two are disgusting."

Wade smirked, tightening his arms around you. "Oh, trust me, Sinead O'Connor, you haven't seen disgusting yet."

Colossus just sighed, shaking his head. "Please, just behave until we get there."

Wade grinned. "No promises."

You, however, just sat there—awkwardly nestled in Wade's lap, trying not to think about how nice it felt.

Dopinder, who had been eerily silent throughout the ride, finally spoke up, his voice breaking through the lingering tension.

"So... who are the new guys?" he asked, his eyes flicking between Colossus and Negasonic through the rearview mirror.

Wade, ever the dramatic showman, immediately jumped into an exaggerated introduction. You tuned him out almost instantly, too tired to care, too lost in your own thoughts. Instead, you just stared out the window, watching as the city blurred past, neon lights flashing across the rain-slick streets.

Your mind was spiraling.

The thought of saving Vanessa made your stomach twist into knots. You didn't want to save her. You wanted Wade to yourself. And yet, here you were, on your way to help... her.

It was selfish, maybe even cruel, but you didn't care. You'd do anything—anything—to have Wade. But at the same time... you wanted him to be happy. Because that's what he made you.

Before Wade, life had been dull. A never-ending cycle of contracts, blood, and empty kills. Your past? Nothing but pain, loneliness, and survival. Before Wade, you had never smiled—not genuinely, not without a reason to hide a knife behind your back.

You never knew what it was like to be hugged—not in a non-threatening way, at least. You never knew what it was like to be loved. To have someone look at you without hate in their eyes.

Hate. Fear. Disgust. That's all you had ever seen. That's all you had ever known.

But Wade?

Wade looked at you with hope. With joy.

With... love?

You hoped it was love. You weren't even sure what it felt like, had nothing to compare it to, but with every artery and vein in your twisted heart, you prayed that's what it was. Because you loved him.

It had only been eight months since you first met, locked away in those cells at the facility, suffering together. But from the moment he spoke to you—really spoke to you, like you were something more than just another body to be broken—it changed something inside you.

It made you want.

It made you crave.

And you would do anything to keep it. To keep him.

Even if it meant killing the one person he could love more than you.