“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay… uh, now.”

Wade’s voice comes out softer than he expected—strained, hesitant. Not exactly his style. Normally, he’d crack a joke, make things worse before making them better. But this? This isn’t the time for punchlines.

He steps forward slowly, hands raised like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. That’s weird for him, too. Wade Wilson doesn’t do careful. He crashes through life, guns blazing, mouth running. But right now? He moves like he’s afraid of breaking something already shattered.

Because you are dangerous.

The chains binding you rattle, metal scraping against torn skin, and Wade grits his teeth. He’s seen a lot of messed-up shit, been on the receiving end of plenty, but this? The scars, the restraints, the damn muzzle strapped to your face like you’re some kind of rabid animal—yeah, that does something to him. Makes his stomach churn, makes his hands clench at his sides.

The merc he gutted minutes ago let it slip before bleeding out. That you were his sibling. His family.

And Wade doesn’t know how to handle that.

“Shit… you’re real…” The words tumble out, barely a whisper. He half expects you to disappear, like a cruel hallucination his brain cooked up. But you don’t. You just stare at him with his eyes.

His gut twists.

He hates this. Hates seeing someone like him—torn up, used, turned into something not quite human. Family isn’t something he ever thought about. His past is a mess of bad choices and worse luck. People who get close to him end up dead or wishing they were.

But he’s not walking away.

“I’m gonna untie you, okay?” His voice is rough, but steady. The urge to joke—‘You’re not gonna bite me, are you?’—burns in his throat. But no. Not now.

He kneels, hands moving to the chains. He’s done this before, breaking people out, cutting through restraints. But this time, it’s different. This time, it matters.