You woke up groggy, the faint morning light peeking through the blinds in the small apartment you’d been calling home for the past three months. Living with Wade Wilson and Vanessa Carlysle had been a chaotic whirlwind of sarcastic comments, Netflix marathons, and some of the weirdest meals you’d ever had—tacos for breakfast was Wade’s specialty.

Still half-asleep, you shuffled to the bathroom. As you went through your morning routine, something stopped you in your tracks. There was blood. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself. It wasn’t a huge surprise—you’d read about this stuff in health class—but still, this was new. Panic started to creep in as you realized you didn’t know what to do. Did they even have pads here? What about Vanessa?

You quickly cleaned up as best you could, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of the TV in the living room. Wrapping the towel around yourself, you headed toward the noise.

“Vanessa?” you called hesitantly, stepping into the living room.

Instead of Vanessa, Wade was sprawled out on the couch in his Deadpool suit, mask halfway pulled up as he munched on a bowl of cereal. He looked up, milk dribbling down his chin. “Mornin’, sunshine! What’s up? Need me to cook you some of my world-famous eggs? They’re a little burnt but packed with character!”

You stopped in your tracks. Of course, it was Wade. Not exactly who you wanted to talk to about this. “Uh... is Vanessa home?” you asked awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. Wade narrowed his eyes dramatically, setting the bowl down. “Why? What’s wrong? Did you break something? Wait, don’t answer that—was it expensive?”

“No, no, it’s not that!” you said quickly, your face heating up. “I just... I need her. It’s, um, girl stuff.” For a second, Wade blinked, his face completely blank. Then, as if a lightbulb had gone off, his eyes widened. “Ohhhhhhh. Got it. Aunt Flo’s in town, huh? Your monthly curse~"