#also bad news? i hyperfocused and now i have to get back to the imaginary chapter i definitely wasnt distracted from... but it will now be- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marveldc-imagines-hub · 6 years

Text

Ice Packs (Wade Wilson x Reader)

A/N: This is one of the many non-requested pieces I’ve had in my drafts forever, and I was recently really drawn to finally writing the piece. It ended up taking a different turn than I expected, but I’m really proud of how in

Warnings for swearing and some sexual humor because, duh, it’s Deadpool aaaaaannnd a little bit of angst maybe. Is this considered angst? I don’t know. Also, minor Deadpool 2 spoilers (mention of Cable, Domino, and the events regarding Vanessa) but Deadpool 2 spoilers nonetheless; this piece takes place after it.

Anyway, enjoy!

~~~

Tapping on the window of your (number) floor apartment drew your attention away from the evening activity you were pursuing. Upon further inspection--turning your head a few degrees to the right in order to peer out said window--you felt yourself relax as you recognized the white-eyed, masked face looking back at you.

“Hold on a sec, Wade--I mean Deadpool.” You hummed softly as you sat your things aside. Pulling the plush blanket draped over your shoulders closer against your person, you stood and shuffled over to the window. With the suited and warm-bodied antihero leaning close to the glass, probably to keep himself from falling down the apartment building’s side, the glass panes were becoming increasingly foggy.

“Heya, [Y/N]!” Wade greeted, tumbling through the window after you opened it. Now that he was in a lighted area, you noticed darker patches of red on his bodysuit, which was scuffed and torn in places. Still, despite his looks the smell of dirt and blood that clung to him, the behind-the-mask, avocado-looking man seemed cheerful enough.

That is, until he made his way to your couch, walking stiffly and softly grunting every couple of steps.

Immediately, your brows furrowed in confusion and worry. You had been friends with Wade long enough that he had incredible healing abilities and, even if he was in pain, he rarely showed as much.

“Wade, are you okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” The antihero, despite his currently distressed situation, was at your side in moments, tugging you against him and covering your mouth with a gloved hand. With comically shifty eyes in every direction, he continued, “The mask isn’t off, little troublemaker! Anyone could hear and figure out my secret identity!”

You rolled your eyes and swatted the undoubtedly dirty glove off away from your face. Using the sleeve of your sweater to scrub your face clean from any possible grime, you replied, “I’m the only one here, nutjob. Don’t contaminate me with your filth, jackass.”

Wade--Deadpool--gasped softly and placed an oh so delicate hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You’ve wounded my soul, [Y/N].” After a moment of waiting for a reaction that wouldn’t come, he dropped the act and, chuckling, agreed. “Yeah, that fight was brutal. You’re probably right not to touch me.”

“Seriously, though, Livepuddle, what’s wrong?” Watching him continue his hobbling to your couch, despite the fact that you had just told him to stop his contamination, you were filled with concern again. Perhaps his healing abilities had disappeared somehow?

“Oh, yanno--” He waved his hand dismissively as he plopped onto the couch and stressed across it. “--just a little stiff after war. I may have been impaled once or a few times, and not in the fun way. Also, it’s Livingpuddle. If you’re going to insult my shitty superhero title, at least do it right.”

“Same difference, ballsack-lookin’ dipshit.” Sitting on the nearby end table’s edge, you tried to steer the conversation back to the topic of your concern, “Normally, that’s not enough to make you groan and hobble a drunk old dude. Seriously, Wade, what’s going on? Did you lose your healing or something? Is it bad?”

The blank eyes of the Deadpool mask shifted slightly as Wade glanced over your concerned face. After a moment, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, [Y/N], why’d you have to do those sad eyes? You know I hate sad eyes. I don’t deserve sad e--” The man stopped in the middle of the phrase and jerked his head to seemingly stare at the wall in which the window he had climbed in was occupied. “Hey! Stop listening to 500 Miles by The Proclaimers when you’re writing something heartfelt and sad! At least listen to Cher or something!”

“Wade, now’s not the time for your weird, out of body bullshit,” you grumbled. You had been friends with him long enough to have witnessed these many of these strange, loud monologues; therefore, they weren’t very surprising but they could certainly be annoying when you were trying to have a serious conversation.

“I’ll admit, that song has a good twang to it but it’s way overplayed.”

You couldn’t tell whether that comment was in reply to you, or if he was still having an imaginary argument. In mild frustration, you reached out to grab his wrist, in hopes of also grabbing his attention once again--

Only to have him hiss slightly and yank his arm away.

The two of you shared a wide-eyed look, yours of surprise and his of… Well, you couldn’t be sure. As the realization of situation donned on you, you retracted your hand and instead rested it in your lap with it’s twin.

“Is it the cancer?” you asked softly.

Yet another soft grunt escaped mask-covered lips as Wade looked away and gently squeezed the wrist you had tried to grab.

You gave him time to choose his words and, eventually, he spoke again, “Sometimes it hurts. A lot. Especially after regenerating and healing, it gets really bad in places. The pain from a fight isn’t s bad.”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need the pity.”

“It’s not pity, it’s empathy.”

“I don’t deserve any of it.”

Thick silence bloomed again in the dim light of your apartment living room, and you leaned back on your hands as you tried to think up a way to help your friend. Slowly, an idea formed.

“I’ll be fine,” Wade murmured after a few more minutes of gruesome silence.

“What if we numb it out of you?” you thought aloud in response.

Even with the mask covering the antihero’s face, you could tell his eyes were glittering with a dark humor. “What? With death or alcohol and drugs? Maybe all three?” Then the humor lightened a bit, and you could vaguely see the grin and wiggling of eyebrows behind red fabric. “Or maybe another, more physical activity?”

“Shut up and undress, Wade.” You hopped up from the end table and walked towards the kitchen, hyperfocused on your fridge.

“Hah, fourth time’s the charm!” Wade jumped up after you, albeit slower than he normally would have, and marched after you. “The kitchen? How inviting, [Y/N].”

“Stop that. I’m getting ice.”

“Ice?”

You nodded. “And lots of it.”

When you gave no other response, Wade sighed and leaned against the kitchen doorway--only to grunt softly and pull away again. “Enlighten me, you teasing little minx.”

You visibly cringed at the pet name and, after grabbing all the ice packs and ice trays in your freezer to place then on the counter nearby.

“It might work, or it might not. Either way, it’s worth a shot-- Hey, that rhymed! Anyway, I know it’s unlikely that it’ll take away all of the pain, but people use ice baths to for muscles and pain and stuff pretty often so--”

“Waterloo’s good, but what about Super Trouper with that Cher appearance? Now that had tears in my eyes! When the old cast danced with the new one? Iconic!”

You huffed as you tossed the last couple ice packs into your bathtub, which was now partially filled with water, every non-food icy item from your freezer, and several bags of ice you’d accumulated after a trip to the gas station down the street. “Could you please stop talking to the voices in your head?”

Wade scoffed from his current perch. He was sitting gingerly on the edge of the closed toilet next to where you stood. He had stripped out of his suit and its dangerous accessories--you had to lend him a pair of boxers that you’d often but no longer would use for sleep shorts in the process--and now skeptically awaited the ice bath you were preparing for him. You had also helped him clean off the blood and grime from his battle earlier that night, and now you could tell by the newer looking scars and pinker patches of skin where Wade’s skin and a smaller appendage or two had regenerated.

“I’m not talking to the voices in my head,” he replied, as if that were assuring, “I’m talking to the narrator. See, Super Trouper’s a bop!”

“What the fuck, Wade.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the tub to admire your work. After making sure it reached your standards, you gestured for Wade to stand--which he did unwillingly, followed by a low grunt. “Get in the tub.”

“I’d be much more willing to do so if I had a buddy to join me.” Despite the pain he was still in, the scarred man managed a toothy smirk to go along with his flirty words. “Perhaps, take a chance on me--?”

“Sir, get in the tub before I physically fight you into it.”

“Kinky,” was his only reply. Realizing he was getting nowhere in the current situation, Wade got to his feet and stepped into the tub. If he gained goosebumps, they weren’t visible on his scarred body from you vantage point; however, he gave a shiver and a quick “Woo!” in response to the cold before dipping his other foot in. Placing one hand on the shower wall and the other on the rim of the tub, he slowly lowered himself into the icy water and adjusted said ice around himself.

You took his place on the toilet lid and watched in anticipation. Of course, you weren’t expecting anything to happen very quickly; you weren’t really sure what you were expecting at all, considering the circumstances and the person you were trying to help. Still, if Wade’s pain worsened for some reason, or he started to turned purple and blue before the pain started to lessen, you wanted to make sure that he knew he didn’t have to stay in the ice bath if it was a useless endeavor.

However, as you watched, Wade began to relax in his icy spa. He was a little too tall to fit in the small apartment tub, so his feet rested on the edge and he sunk sunk down until only the tops of his shoulder, neck, and head were above the water. He rested his head next to the faucet, closing his eyes and sighing, and for a moment he seemed more serene then you’ve ever seen him.

He was in pain frequently, you knew, due to the cancer he still endured and the constant regenerating that he dealt with as a bodily defense against it. He was in pain more than frequently, actually, but some days it was worse than others and he hated showing the pain either way.

You were pulled from your heavy thoughts when Wade shifted, turning his head and opening his eyes once more. Seemingly calmer and a bit hesitant now, he shifted and raised one arm out of the tub. While reaching the wet hand out to you, he muttered, “Thanks for worrying about me.”

You responded by gripping his hand and squeezed. “I know it’s difficult to bounce back after losing someone. I also know that while people like Cable and Domino care but they’re smart enough to not get in your way. I, on the other hand, am dense and will continue to bother and irritate you out of affection.”

Wade Wilson didn’t talk. However, you could see the different kind of pain that bloomed in his gaze--before he closed his eyes and turned his head away again. You would have thought he was upset with you if he hadn’t squeezed your hand.

It was quiet after that. You continued to tightly hold Wade’s hand while he rested, keeping a close eye on his condition. It could have easily been some hours, and eventually, he began to doze off, his head slowly tilting back in your direction and leaning against the rim of the bathtub. You took that moment to rest your head on his--if it roused him, he didn’t show it--and mentally wished him well, as if the connection would take your thoughts and slam it into his own head to the point that the wish would come true. Then, you gently shook him awake to move him to a more comfortable spot as thoughts of napping with frostbite creeped into your mind.

Dramatic? Perhaps, but still a risk you weren’t a fan of taking.

#imagines-hub #marvel #mcu #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool headcanons #deadpool imagines #deadpool x reader #wade wilson imagines #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson headcanons #deadpool 2 #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons #marvel imagines #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons

160 notes · View notes