A/N: So this is my second story uploaded. I actually had a bit of trouble with this one. Deadpool is not an easy character to write about-but I still tried. So grade me graciously. Anyway for the voices in his head I separated them like this:

("Yellow voice/box")

(-"White voice/box"-)

Eternal

Deadpool

I'm, usually, not the kind of guy who likes to slow down and smell the roses-my ADHD won't allow it. Don't get me wrong, though, nature and me have a decent relationship.

But you will unlikely find me in the park observing the flowers and trees and admiring how the grass is so green and how the pond is so sparkly blue and how the little ducklings are so cute-I mean, really, all that sounds incredibly fruity.

But the universe was practically screaming at me to go to the park, like, I woke up this morning and all of a sudden my radio came to life blasting "GO TO THE PARK!" And the universe has never led me wrong, yet, so I obeyed.

So there I was, strolling through the park, taking in the beautiful collages of color amongst nature…whoa, that was so poetic of me (hehe). Anyways I could've lost myself in the moment but was rudely disturbed by a series of whimpering and sobbing. I had the urge to sock the bastard who ruined the mood, and as I ventured closer to the sound, that was when my life would forever change. I saw her sitting on the grass her back against a tree trunk.

White, tight, curly hair cascaded slightly over her shoulders, luscious chocolate skin that reminded me of the Godiva delicacies. I almost mistook her for Storm but Storm's eyes are blue and this lovely lady's eyes were a smoky grey. She had a very anguished expression, the kind people have when not wanting to keep living. And I would know, I mean, like, I've tried killing myself too many times to count.

Normally I would've walked in the other direction, me and crying females is a horrible mix. But I knew this was all apart of the universe's master plan-a.k.a destiny. And this woman was way too gorgeous to simply walk away from. That skin was calling out to me, "Touch me Wade, touch me and do other inappropriate things to me,"

("Now that is so perverted of you")

(-"You'd take advantage of a woman's misery just to get laid"-)

"Guys, I could never be so heartless. I have my morals-"

("-Haha, since when?")

"I thought I left you two at the crib,"

(-"We're voices in your head Wade, we won't go away that easily"-)

"Point taken,"

("So~ what are you gonna do?")

(-"If anything be polite, chicks love polite"-)

I crept closer to the woman as she wiped her cheeks and eyes trying to stop the waterworks. I didn't have a game plan, but how hard could cheering up a crying female be?

I kneeled to her level, like what adults do to lost children, and put on the happiest face I had-which was a Pikachu mask I found at the flea market. I don't know any chick that doesn't like Pikachu. Her eyes flicked up, instantly widening upon seeing the mask. The tears stopped but she was still whimpering uncontrollably. I knew what I had to do; I had to say something,

"Pika, Pika?" I definitely had her attention now, as her brows lifted in question. Now I seriously couldn't think of what to do next-for once in my entire lifetime.

(-"Come on Merc with a Mouth! Don't fail at your chance to get laid!"-)

As I broke into a cold sweat I went with the first thing that popped into my head.

"My momma always said 'life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."

("Really?")

The woman wiped her eyes once more, and was able to stop her whimpering just to say,

"What?" honestly, I don't know how, of all the crazy things that go on in my mind, that quote came out. My mother never told me anything; I can't even remember her name.

"Uh, you know, doesn't matter what you get, you gotta, like, find the sweetness in it and keep moving, yeah?" at this point I wasn't sure what was coming out my mouth.

("Since when were you ever sure about what came out of that filthy mouth")

The woman's lips curled into a sad smile that I know would be a thousand times more beautiful if she were happy. She stood; wiping strands of grass off her white, long, dress.

"Thank you," she whispered, her words barely audibly, and then took off.

"What-HEY!" I was about to chase her down and maybe, ("which means most likely") take her home but a vibration in my little knapsack attached to my belt, halted my mission. Angered by the impolite intrusion, I grabbed the lovely iPhone 5s and glared at the screen wondering who dared interrupt me and my golden opportunity. My thumb mashed the screen as it swiped the itty-bitty green phone to the right.

"Who dares call the almighty, and illogically sexy, Deadpool at this awful time!" I yelled into the phone-perhaps too loud.

"Yell in the damn phone again I swear I'll rip off your fucking head!"

(-"For the umpteenth time"-)

("Its our pal wolverine!")

"Today is full of surprises! First this lovely day, and then I meet a lovely woman who I must track down later, and then a call from good ol' pal-"

"-Wade! Shut the fuck up and listen!"

("Uh-oh, someone didn't have their morning beer")

"I'll be around your area in a couple of weeks, there's a mission that requires your assistance," he said. I held the phone away from my mouth,

"OMG guys, wolverine needs our help!"

("Do we get to fly the Blackbird?")

"Oh, let me ask," I brought the phone back to my mouth,

"Do I get to fly the-"?

"NO! Meet me at the abandoned warehouse near the river," Wolverine hangs up the phone.

(-"He left out a lot of specifics"-)

"I can find that out later, now, we must find our chocolate beauty,"

("Yeah, so we can screw her and then throw her out like all the other bitches")

(-"Or, make her fall madly in love with us and get free sex anytime, any day")

"Ooo, I like that plan, let's stick to that one"

Finding the chocolate beauty was easy-never doubt my tracking skills. I kept my distance for the first few hours, observing her like she was an animal on the Safari. She went to the library for an hour, indulging in books and checking out a few. Then she went to a super market buying packs of spaghetti noodles, tomato sauce, and other things that go with spaghetti.

("I hope she makes enough for two)

Then I stalked…ah, that makes me sound like a sicko, (-"that's exactly what you are"-)

"Shut up voice!" anyways, I followed her to a suburb. The house she lived in was very exquisite, like, you'd only find someone making over $250,000 annually living there. She didn't lock the front door, or rather didn't need to. The police are like dogs to rich people and in this neighborhood there were bound to be cops ready to pounce like spider monkeys.

Unfortunately for them they never met me. I could've just fought them head on, but the commotion would've scared away my chocolate beauty so I stuck with stealth. Even though going through the front door would be easy, cause she didn't lock it, I hated that this was becoming less of a challenge, so I broke into the second floor window instead. Once confirming she wasn't on the second floor I went to the first, and sure enough, she was in the kitchen preparing a meal

("she'd make a great housewife, we should so~ keep her"). I was about to make a grand entrance when, rudely, the front door slams shut. Swiftly I found a closet to hide in, carefully closing the door as heavy footsteps rushed into the kitchen.

"Marik, you're back so soon," the woman said softly.

"I came by earlier and you were gone, where the fuck were you?" the man, named Marik, demanded harshly,

("who put the bug up his ass")

"I-I was at the park. Then I went to the library and the market-"

"-this is the fifth time I found the house empty at exactly ten in the morning-"

"-I go to the park and library every morning, you know this-"

"-who the fuck are you seeing?" there was a grave silence.

"Jesus, your…your drunk again its not even two p.m.-" a loud slap sound rang in my ears. This would be the spark that began a fire within me that I thought had been smothered out years ago.

"I won't repeat myself woman,"

"I'm not seeing anyone!" she sobbed, after all the effort I made to cheer her up. There was a sharp shriek,

"You'd better not be lying to me!"

"Gah, S-stop, that hurts! You're hurting me!"

"Maybe I should rough you up a bit, ruin that pretty face, so no man will ever look at you again," her pleading cries and screams only fueled the flame, and as the despairing sound amplified my rage I heard her hit the ground-and I snapped.

I barely understood what I was doing, allowing my emotions to maneuver my body. When I finally came to blood was everywhere. And I mean every nook and crevice. I held my katanas, which were also drenched in the lovely crimson fluid. My uniform was also soiled, which is rare. No matter how messy a fight or kill the clothes always remained impossibly intact and spotless. I had really lost my shit. I examined my surroundings, admiring the art I crafted.

"Man, I haven't done some fucked up shit like this in a long time," the walls were a canvas for my random drawings and crude words-all done in blood. Intestines decorated the countertops in the same manner you would do for Christmas lights.

Organs were displayed in odd ways on the floor. A heart was boiling blood in a pot on the stove. Pieces of muscle, tissue, and bone were scattered everywhere. I could've stood there for hours, relishing in the pure, unadulterated, violence and gore, but then I spotted the woman passed out on the bloodied floor. Her white dress, hair, and skin were stained in the color. Finally the severity of my actions hit me-hard in the face.

"Oh shit, shit, shit!"

("check her out dude!")

I hastily ran to her side, dropping down on all fours and searched her figure for any signs of mutilation or wounds. Luckily there were none, except the slap bruise on her face and dark purple handprints on her forearm. None by me. There's no way I could leave the woman alone in all this blood, so I did what I intended to do since I began stalking her. I lifted her into my arms, and took her home.

I gently placed the woman on my bed, then decided to remove her ruined dress. I brought a towel and a bucket of water to the bedside, deciding it best to clean the blood off her. I didn't think she'd want to wake up in it. After washing off her arms, legs and doing the best I could to get it out of her hair I took the time to stare upon her nearly nude body. She was wearing the latest Victoria's Secret white demi cup bra-her boobs had to be, like, a thirty six B. Covering her femininity was a rather sexy, lacy, white hip hugger.

("this chick knows her bras and panties")

"Amen to that," being me, there's no way I could stand her and not take advantage of this situation. What's a guy to do when there's a half nude unconscious woman in his bed.

(-"you'd take advantage of an unconscious woman. Shame on you"-)

"Since when did I feel shame?" I didn't do as much as I could've. Just tenderly squeezed her wonderfully plump breasts, then grabbed her ass, just to get a 'hands on' idea of how big it was-and I got the idea that her backside would be very enjoyable during sex.

("Dude! I think she's waking up!")

Faster than Ali switched off the light and made it to bed before the lights went out, I was off her body and standing against the doorway. She groaned, touching her forehead as her eyes gradually opened. They took in her surroundings, and as she came to the realization that this place was not her home, she sat up very quickly.

"Where am I?" her brows burrowed in confusion. I watched as her countenance shifted from frustration, to anger, to agony, a swirling of complicated emotions overwhelming her. Without warning she wretched all over herself (-"Whoa…that's a turn off"-). I knew she was going to vomit more so I went to her, holding the bucket to her face and held back her hair with one hand as she continued to expel gross stomach fluid thingies.

"There, there, everything is fine now," I said reassuringly. Having finished her episode, I could tell she was very alarmed by my presence. Especially the way she jumped off the bed.

"Yeah, so, I know this is kind of, err, awkward, since you don't really know me-"

"-What am I doing here? Why…why are you here? You're the man from the park." She was becoming breathless with every word. She held her forehead, her eyes darting around once more as she began to completely panic.

"Hey! Take it easy," I stood from the bed, reaching out for her but she screamed and pressed herself against the wall trembling as fear and confusion engulfed her entirely. I held up my hands trying to assure her that I wasn't a danger.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you-"

"-Who are you," she demanded. I sighed deeply, this was not how I imagined this would turn out. I was hoping for her to hug me for saving her from that terrible man-like how prince charming saves the damsel in distress from the dragon.

"I'm Wade, Wade Wilson, this is my, uh, apartment. I brought you here after rescuing you,"

"How did you know where I was? How, how…You, it was you, you killed my husband!" now I was getting pissed off. I did a good deed and still got yelled at.

(-"Well, you did go way overboard. You can't even piece the guy back together"-)…true…

"I killed the fucker who put his hands on you," I sneered,

"That had nothing to do with you!" she shouted and had begun crying once more.

("Smooth")

I heard a snap sound in my head, like a tree branch breaking off a tree trunk.

"It had every fucking thing to do with me! no one's gonna put their hands on my belongings!"

"What? I don't belong to you! You're freaking insane!" I used my full height to intimidate the woman as I got closer to her slamming both hands against the wall beside her head.

"I kill people for a living, and unless you were the one paying all the bills that came with that house, I don't think you'd ever have the money to repay me for ridding you of your problem. Therefore your mine, and don't even think about escaping or ratting cause it don't matter where you hide on this planet or who protects you, I will find you and end you-understood."

Silence encompassed the room as I let her absorb my heavy, and cruel words. Without saying anything else I left the room closing the door on the way out to let her be.

("shit man, you said some fucked up stuff. Like, she'll never wanna fuck you now")

"Gee, thanks for the heads up,"

(-"are you seriously going to keep her prisoner here?"-)

("She'll go insane!")

(-"beyond recovery insane"-)

This was one of those days I wished the voices didn't exist. I was still brooding over the god-awful scenario the universe forced upon me. Playing with my explosives could've calmed me down, but I couldn't play with them there, and I definitely couldn't leave, knowing the woman in my room was on the verge of a meltdown. I couldn't take back what I had said. I didn't even know her name yet. I guess this is the kind of drama readers like,

("Screw you fanfic readers, and author!")

Unable to think of anything else that involved no violence-thus not leaving my apartment-I decided to make pancakes. Lots and lots and lots and lots of pancakes.

A/N: If you don't know what Deadpool quoted at the beginning, It's like the first lines from Forrest Gump.