“Whoa! Whoa! Not the katana, little buddy.” Deadpool swooped Peter off of his shoulder and into his arms.
An animalistic growl escaped Peter. He’d just gotten his hands on one of Deadpool’s katana. Sure, he had no clue how to wield a sword, but considering he was being abducted by some lunatic, he’d learn on the fly.
Peter wrestled to grab ahold of the one of the hilts, but Deadpool maneuvered the blades outside of Peter’s grasp.
“Hey!” Deadpool shouted. His cry was petulant and full of ire. “If you keep trying to touch my sword then I’m going to tie you up. Of course, if you want to touch my other sword, just say the word and I’ll find us a nice, private alley.” Deadpool pitched his voice low in what Peter was sure was an attempt to be seductive.
Peter’s soul vomited.
His soul vomited a second time when he realized, promising Deadpool a hand job in an alley might actually be a strategic way to get away from the mercenary. Once he got Deadpool’s pants down to his knees, Peter could easily out run him.
“Relax,” Deadpool drawled. “I know we just met and odds are you’re too terrified to fuck right now. I don’t expect you to say yes.” Deadpool rolled his eyes. “Plus, how would I know that you really want it, and you’re not just agreeing to it cause you’re scared? I’d basically be raping you, Baby Boy, and I don’t do that. I’m a criminal, but even I have scruples.”
“You’re disturbingly perceptive.” Peter was grateful to have the option of seducing his way to freedom gone. Some people would probably call him crazy, but he really hadn’t wanted to trick Deadpool in such a manner, and to have the option taken away from him meant when he reflected upon this moment later, he wouldn’t berate himself for squandering an opportunity to escape.
Deadpool nodded his head back and forth. “Not always, but sometimes. I like you, so I pay more attention to you.”
Deadpool glared at a couple on who had stopped on the sidewalk to stare at Deadpool and Peter. “He’s mine! Back off, losers!” Deadpool flipped the couple his middle finger.
The two were mixture of offense and shame.
Other passersby turned their heads and actually looked at Peter and Deadpool. At first many of the glances were annoyed or bored, then fear began to creep into a few of them. Then someone shouted, “Is that Deadpool?”
Suddenly everyone within a twenty foot radius was running away.
Peter sighed in frustration.
Oblivious New Yorkers.
“It really took them that long to notice you?”
“Do you know how many people wear spandex and masks these days?” Deadpool countered.
“Point taken.” Didn’t change that fact that Peter was very disappointed with his fellow New Yorkers. He could forgive the obliviousness (growing up in the city, you get used to seeing the strangest crap, and he was just as bad as them), but he was going to be bitter about the lack of help from his peers for a while. Really? Not one person was willing to try and save him? Was anyone even calling the police?
Deadpool hailed a cab. The poor driver was probably more focused on the people fleeing into the streets to actually note who was waving him or her down. The driver parked the cab.
Deadpool skipped around to the driver’s door and yanked it open. He aimed a gun at the head of the woman inside.
The woman froze with her hands on the steering wheel.
“Listen,” Deadpool started, “I know, your job sucks, and right now Lyft and Uber are taking away your customers. Unless you’re one of those cabbie’s who moonlights for those apps, in which case, damn girl. When do you not drive people around? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t really want to shoot you, so if you could please vacate your vehicle I would really appreciate at it. Thanks.”
The woman nodded and slowly exited her taxi.
Peter looked to her pleadingly as Deadpool manhandled Peter into the front seat with him.
The woman gave a remorseful look but did nothing to help.
Deadpool slammed the door shut.
Peter wiggled in Deadpool’s lap. Deadpool had maneuvered Peter so his legs were spread over into the passenger seat. Deadpool also kept an arm looped tightly around Peter and his arms, making it impossible for Peter to grab the steering wheel.
“Can’t I at least sit in the passenger seat?” Peter whined as Deadpool started the car and peeled out of the gutter.
was a mess, and his unbidden tears were the least of his problems.
After his experience at the
sanctum, Peter hadn’t given Dr. Strange or Deadpool much time to explain. One
moment he’d been fine, the next he had gone on a terrible acid trip.
“What you saw was not a
hallucination,” Dr. Strange had said. “As I was trying to explain before.
Everything is linked. Even you to your alternate selves. Through that
connection and with the aid of my powers, you were able to catch glimpses of
your other selves.”
Peter hadn’t been able to hear
much after that. Dr. Strange had tried to explain, but Peter bolted from the
scene. Dr. Strange and Deadpool had called him back, but he felt like he was
literally crumbling, and the only way to stop himself from falling apart was to
run. He ran right on to the closest bus. He didn’t care where it took him—he was
already late for work. What did it matter if he was another hour late? They’d
probably called someone in to cover for him.
Peter hugged himself and glanced around
the bus. Everyone was doing their best impression of a zombie. Some read from
tablets while others drowned out the sounds of the bus with headphones or
The bus slowed to a stop. Peter
didn’t want to get off, but he’d already stayed on long enough that sky had
turned purple. It was time to find a cab or a new bus and go… somewhere.
Peter joined the small shuffle of
people exiting the bus. He jumped off the last step and wandered a few paces
before stopping. What was he going to do? He wasn’t upset that he wasn’t the
superhero he was in another life (it was a bummer, but nothing to get so
despondent over). It was seeing all the potential friends he had in that life
and the connection with his aunt that caused him heartache. He’d known he’d lost
out on so much, and to have it thrown in his face—Peter
didn’t know if he was more hurt or enraged.
The smell of chili, onions, and
beans wafted around Peter.
Peter sniffed and wiped at his
moist eyes. His stomach growled, and he felt his anger spike. Great. On top of
everything that had happened to him, now he was hungry. Take out was a no go
after missing tonight’s shift at work. He’d have to go home and put together
something for himself.
A blunt finger tapped Peter on
Peter turned around and something
burrito-shaped and wrapped in foil was shoved at his face. The delicious smell
of cheese, rice, and spice caused Peter’s mouth to water.
“Happy Birthday,” Deadpool said,
in a far more solemn tone than before.
Peter stared at Deadpool and his
offering of food.
“You like chimichangas, right? I
figure I owe you for ruining your birthday.” Deadpool pushed the chimichanga
against Peter’s chest, forcing Peter to take it.
Peter hugged the chimichanga.
Deadpool’s presence and the chimichanga were so unexpected, he found himself
bereft of his anger. All he felt was a throbbing ache in his chest. “What are
you doing here?”
“I hopped on the bus. Literally.”
“Are you saying you road on top
of the bus?”
“Hey, you are a smarty after
all.” Humor injected itself into Deadpool’s voice.
Bitterness gnawed at Peter.
“Thanks for the food.” Peter walked past Deadpool and signaled for a cab.
“Hey, Petey!” Deadpool shouted
after Peter. “I really didn’t think you’d react that badly.”
Peter clenched his fist. He had
plenty to say to Deadpool, but he didn’t have a death wish, no matter how
depressed he was. So he bit the tip of his tongue and waited for a cab to pull
up to the curb. It didn’t take long, and Peter climbed inside. He half expected
Deadpool to join him, but the mercenary surprised him by not doing so.
Peter rattled off his address to
the driver. The cab driver was one who liked to chat, and Peter cursed his
luck. Normally, he would be happy to converse with the driver, but he just
wanted to marinate it his thoughts and feelings for the duration of the ride.
To avoid being rude though, Peter engaged in conversation with the driver. His
sentences were short and direct without being pointed. Eventually, the driver
picked up on Peter’s low energy and left Peter to soak in the silence for the
remainder of the trip.
Deadpool and the bus had taken
Peter quite a ways from his home. He internally winced at the amount he owed
the driver once they landed at Peter’s apartment. Peter offered the driver his
bank card and signed the receipt. He should have spent the extra five minutes
looking up bus schedules and routes instead of storming off in a huff.
No point sulking over what could
have been, Peter told himself, and felt his heart lurch.
Peter trudged into the apartment
complex, up the stairs, and to his place. He stopped and stared at his door. He
didn’t have his key.
Peter lightly punched the door.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The image of Deadpool pushing
into his apartment came to mind and Peter opened his eyes. In all the chaos, he
might have left his front door unlocked. He hoped eighteen years of self
preservation had failed him as he twisted the doorknob.
His door opened, and that tiny
bit of luck filled Peter with so much hope he started tearing up again.
Peter cursed and wiped the tears
away as he entered his apartment. A quick survey of the room told him his luck
had really held out, because there were no signs of intrusion or theft. He put
the chimichanga in the fridge; he was too emotional exhausted to eat, even if
his stomach still burned with a need for nutrients. He went to the open window,
shut it, and locked it. He then kicked off his shoes and flopped onto his bed.
There was a knock on Peter’s
Peter groaned and lifted his head
just enough to confirm his suspicions about who was at his window.
Deadpool knocked again and held
up a bakery box.
“Go away, Deadpool,” Peter
shouted. He dropped his head on his pillow.
Deadpool knocked again. “Come on,
Petey. You don’t have a fire escape. I am literally standing on a ledge here.”
“Not my problem.” Peter rolled
onto his side so he his back was aimed at the window.
Deadpool knocked again.
Peter looked over his shoulder to
see Deadpool hanging from the ledge of the top of his window. His feet kicked
at the bottom ledge as he tried to find his purchase.
Damn it. Peter couldn’t let
someone fall from his window, even if that person was Deadpool.
Peter rolled over, flung himself
off the bed, and opened his window.
“Thanks, Baby Boy.” Deadpool
swung himself inside. He held the bakery box up to Peter and opened it. “Ta
da!” A six inch chocolate cake with the words “Happy Birthday” written in red
on it sat in the box. “I have a custom made one back at my pad, but that one
had a spider motif. Do you hate spiders now?”
Peter shook his head incredulity.
“No, I don’t. Why are you even here? I’m not Spider-Man.”
“It’s your birthday, Baby Boy!”
Deadpool sounded offended. “You can’t spend your birthday alone. Even I don’t
do that. I usually spend it with strippers. Would you like me to get some
“No!” Peter blurted and snatched
the cake from Deadpool. He marched over to his table-desk and set the cake
Peter considered his options at
the moment. He could insist that Deadpool leave, but Dr. Strange had not been
joking when he said Deadpool was persistent. Truthfully, Peter was also too
tired to fight with Deadpool.
Peter went to his kitchen and
pulled out a knife, two plates, and two forks. “So how big of a piece do you
Deadpool cooed. “You’re inviting
me to stay?”
Peter set the plates and utensils
down on the table. “You brought the cake, right? It would be rude if I didn’t
share it with you.”
“Baby boy, I could just hug you
right now.” Deadpool didn’t though. Instead he made a triangle shape with his
hands that was about a quarter size of the cake. “I want this much.”
“Okay.” Peter moved to cut the
slice for Deadpool, but Deadpool stopped him with a shout.
“Wait! We gotta put a candle on
it first and have you blow it out.”
“I don’t have any candles.”
“Well, then, you at least have to
let me sing for you.”
“You really don’t-”
Deadpool belted out Happy Birthday. His voice was cringeworthy as he sang off key. At least he wasn’t
doing a Marilyn Monroe impression though.
“…You smell like a monkey, and
you look like one too~” Deadpool finished.
“Can I cut the cake now?” Peter
“Of course!” Deadpool clapped his
hands together and bounced in place. “I can’t wait for my piece.”
Peter rolled his eyes, but
smiled. He really was exhausted if after the long day he’d had Deadpool was
able to make him smile.
I wanted some consistency in my Deadpool fanart so I made my own reference sheet of him. I chose to base his design mostly off of the costume in Deadpool volume 3 (the 2013 run). I was mostly inspired by Declan Shalvey and Mike Hawthorne’s outfit designs. As for his maskless design its still experimental for me until I find my favorite look.
[A/N: Fair Warning. Complete butchering of Dr. Strange’s Powers ahead]
Deadpool kicked down the door to New York’s Sanctum. Peter had no idea what Deadpool meant by sanctum, other than that he’d been taken to some old building that looked a lot different from the outside than it on the inside. The outside looked like an old building that had been renovated to include modern features. The inside looked like a monastery though.
Deadpool had mentioned something about magicians and mystic arts, and Peter had tuned him out in favor of freaking out and hoping to whatever deity was listening that Dr. Strange would save him from Deadpool. Dr. Strange seemed like a powerful guy. Hopefully he could do something.
Men and women in robes whirled away from what they were doing to face Deadpool. In a flurry of hand movements, the men and women produced glowing, orange weapons.
“All right!” Deadpool swung Peter over his shoulders like a scarf and unsheathed his katana. “Mindless and gratuitous violence.”
Peter cringed. “Please don’t kill anyone.” Peter wiggled on Deadpool’s shoulders. He tried to slid free but couldn’t. “Also, could you put me down, please?”
“Oh, Baby Boy, you have no idea how much I love you right now. Also, how exasperated I am. You’re such a broken record.” Deadpool charged at the men and women.
“I don’t want to be involved in this!” Peter shouted.
“Too late!” Deadpool cried jovially as he rushed at some guy with a glowing, orange whip. “The stabbing will end when I see Dr. Strange.”
“Someone, please get Dr. Strange!” Peter screamed.
If anyone went to fetch Dr. Strange, it was at a snail’s pace.
It was swords versus magic, with the occasional bullet thrown in—or shot in, as it were. Peter didn’t know who to root for. On the one hand, he would love for Deadpool to be subdued. On the other hand, when the Jedi-wannabes attacked Deadpool, they also attacked Peter. Peter might not be their true target, but it didn’t change the fact that Peter was attached to their target.
Deadpool dodged their attacks like he was psychic. He hadn’t killed anyone yet, but was enjoying stabbing and slicing anyone who got in his range. People were going to need stitches and blood transfusions.
“Deadpool” a voice bellowed. Suddenly Deadpool (and Peter by extension) were lifted in the air via a glowing, ring of orange energy banded around Deadpool’s arms and waist.
Floating at the top of a dual staircase in blue clothes that looked ancient, and adorned with a red cloak was none other than Dr. Strange and his skunk hair. His expression was thunderous as he rose higher into the air. He reached the same height as Deadpool and drifted close until he was within stabbing distance of Deadpool.
“You might want to give yourself some space, Doc.” Peter wiggled and almost rolled off of Deadpool’s shoulders and onto the ground many feet below. “I know you got Deadpool in a bind right now, but no one should ever be within stabbing distance of this guy.”
“Aw, Baby Boy,” Deadpool cooed. “You’re so sweet. Thank you for the compliment.”
Peter sighed and placed his forehead in his palm.Down below the Jedi-wannabe’s were helping each other to their feet. Anyone who had been seriously wounded by Deadpool was receiving medical attention.
Suddenly Peter’s body felt lighter and Deadpool’s shoulders weren’t digging into his gut.
“Hey! That’s my future boyfriend, you perv!” Deadpool shouted.
Peter cried out in surprise when he looked down and saw his body floating away from Deadpool’s. Luminescent, orange bands that were smaller than the one holding Deadpool, encircled Peter’s wrists and ankles. Slowly he floated to the ground. The bands disappeared once Peter’s toes touched the floor.
“I hope you are all right,” Dr. Strange said, still maintaining a close distance to Deadpool.
Peter rubbed his wrists. “I’m fine. I just need to go home, and—shit! Work! I need to be at work!” Last Peter had checked he was nowhere near his evening job. He’d have to get a taxi, unless someone in the sanctum had a smart phone linked up to an Uber app.
“Wait! Wait!” Deadpool wiggled. “Don’t let him go just yet, Doc. I need you to show him something. He’s a hero, and he doesn’t know it. He’s like you and Captain America, except cooler.”
“Ignore him. He’s crazy. Everyone knows that.” Peter backed toward the exit.
“Doc, this has to do with the multi-verse! I need you to look deep inside yourself and find your inner dickbag Dr. Reed Richards so that I can prove that while I may be crazy, I am not crazy when I say the guy before you is one of the best super heroes ever, and for some reason this god damn universe fucked up and left him an average Joe with a super ass. An ass that tragically isn’t covered in spandex.”
“The multi-verse?” Dr. Strange’s brows drew together. He scrutinized Peter.
“Listen, you’re the real super hero, or magician, whatever you consider yourself,” Peter said. “Point is, you’ve fought evil space aliens and stuff alongside the Avengers.” Peter backed toward the front door. “You can handle Deadpool. I’m just a normal guy, like he said, so…”
There was a loud sound behind Peter, like the sound of a bolt being slid into place.
Damn it! Abducted by Deadpool, and now Dr. Strange. How was this his life?
Dr. Strange floated down to Peter’s level. “You do look familiar.”
Peter sighed. He held up his hands and shrugged. “Maybe I delivered pizza to you once?”
“Think about it, Doc!” Deadpool shouted. “Think about all the times you peered into your crystal ball and saw Spider-Man.”
Dr. Strange scowled at Deadpool, but his gaze kept flickering back to Peter.
Peter’s stomach churned. “I really need to go to work.”
“What’s your name?” Dr. Strange asked.
“Peter Parker,” Dr. Strange spoke the name as if he were tasting wine. He reflected upon the name for a moment. There was a flash of recognition, then Dr. Strange was studying Peter once again. “Peter, I understand your desire to leave, but I think it would be wise to linger. Even if Deadpool’s claims are wrong, he is a persistent individual. It might be wise to go through the motions of verifying his claim. Otherwise, we might find ourselves in this situation once again.”
“You’re saying you’re going to give the bad guy exactly what he wants?” Peter deadpanned. What kind of upside-down universe was he in? Dr. Strange should be kicking Deadpool’s ass for abduction and breaking and entering. Heck, he should at least be fighting in the names of all his friends Deadpool just stabbed.
Dr. Strange looked like he had sucked on a lemon. “Unfortunately, yes. If recent battles with Deadpool have proven anything, it’s that negotiation and compromise are usually the best methods for keeping Deadpool in check. Even if he just stabbed several sorcerers.”
“Listen, I just found out my future boyfriend has been denied his super hero destiny. I’m a little emotional right now, and your friends made me feel so attacked, okay?”
Peter thrust his arms at Deadpool. “Did you hear that? Did you? How can you consider going along with someone like him?”
“Because, Baby Boy, I will cut myself in half to get free from this magic stuff then drag you back here if you walk out that door.”
“You can’t do that!” Peter shouted. He then asked more quietly at Dr. Strange. “Can he do that?”
Dr. Strange sighed. “Deadpool is resilient, and he very well could do that. I can delay him. In fact, I could delay him for some time, but-”
“Son of a bitch! That fucking hurts!” Deadpool had pushed against his bindings and the orange ring cut into Deadpool’s stomach like a saw.
Peter gasped in horror. “Holy crap! Put him down! Put him down!”
Dr. Strange huffed and with a few fancy hand movements, he lowered Deadpool to the ground. He didn’t undo the magical binds around him. Deadpool continued to struggle, and the magic cut into him more.
“Stop!” Peter seized Deadpool by the shoulders. “I’ll miss work, okay? I’ll miss work and go along with this crazy idea of yours.”
“You know, I’m kind of insulted that you would choose work over me.” Deadpool hissed in pain as the bindings continued to cut into him. “You mind freeing me, Doc?”
Dr. Strange eyed Deadpool warily. “I shouldn’t.”
Peter was horrified. Sure, Deadpool was a terrible person, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be magically sawed in half. “Let him go. This is inhumane!”
“Aw, Baby Boy.” Deadpool’s head lolled to the side. He smiled up at Peter. “I’m so happy you care. This is why I need you. You’re just so good.”
The orange rings around Deadpool vanished. Dr. Strange kept his hands raised and poised to work his weird magic if Deadpool attacked.
Deadpool breathed deep.
Peter reached out to touch Deadpool then stopped himself. “He needs medical attention.”
“He doesn’t,” Dr. Strange stated. “He has an increased healing factor. It’s why he is so resilient.”
“You could still give him some Advil,” Peter snapped. God, was he really defending Deadpool? The man who happily stabbed people and had abducted Peter? He must be catching whatever crazy Deadpool had, because just five minutes ago he wouldn’t have imagined himself defending Deadpool.
Deadpool chuckled and rose to his feet. He pressed one hand to his abdomen. “It’s okay, Baby Boy. Just a few more seconds and the cut will heal completely.” He grabbed Peter’s arm and squeezed it in what seemed like comfort, but Peter swore he must be misreading Deadpool. “I just need you to understand. I can take you home after that, then we can celebrate your birthday with booze, cake, and a little something special if you’re in the mood.”
That soul-puking sensation returned to Peter. “I swear if you weren’t holding me right now, I’d walk out of here.”
“That’s what she said.” Deadpool laughed then stopped suddenly. “Oh man, that is what she said. That was really harsh. Not like I was asking her to cuddle. Deadpool don’t cuddle. He’s a macho man. I’d of course cuddle with you though,” Deadpool eagerly tacked on for Peter.
“Thanks,” Peter said sarcastically.
“Perhaps it would be best if we went to a private chamber?” Dr Strange gestured to the grand hallway above the dual staircase.
“Alone in a room with, Baby Boy?” Deadpool puffed out chest and grinned. It’s a dream come true. “Come on, baby.” Deadpool yanked Peter toward the deep reaches of the sanctum. Behind them Dr. Strange and one of the sorcerers exchanged a few words.
Peter wilted under the stormy looks of the sorcerers who watched him and Deadpool. It was so painfully obvious that they were not welcome in the sanctum. It was just one more reason to get this thing over with. Dr. Strange would use his magic, prove that Peter wasn’t the alternate universe version of this Spider-Man guy, and then Peter would go to work.
Peter startled as Dr. Strange floated past him and Deadpool. Dr. Strange pushed open a door and gestured for Deadpool and Peter to go inside.
The room was sparse, with just a few pieces of furniture and a carpet in the center of the room. An incense burner hung in one of the corners, and on the table was a scrap of paper with the word “Shamballa” written on it.
“Make yourselves comfortable.” Dr. Strange waved at the room. “Someone is gathering the supplies we’ll need.”
“Magic mirror?” Deadpool asked. “Magical wardrobe!” Deadpool cooed. “Please tell me, we’re going to have to travel through Narnia.”
“There are many worlds—many universes—and all of them are connected. Even so, peering into alternate realities is no easy feat. You might find it easier to step into a hidden world on another plane of existence. Because as-”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Deadpool mimed talking with his hands. “We get it, you’re not Reed Richards. You’re the mystical guy who goes to magical realms and stuff. Well, right now, you’re what we got, so stop yammering and start making magic.”
Peter sighed. He was tempted to point out that Deadpool should not exasperate the guy who was helping him, but Peter could already hear Deadpool’s rebuttal.
Dr. Strange took offense, but if he intended to say anything to Deadpool about it, he was interrupted by one of the sorcerers bringing a tea kettle and two cups. Dr. Strange thanked the sorcerer as he took the items. The sorcerer accepted the gratitude then went over to the incense burner.
“Take a seat on the carpet.” Dr. Strange did so himself and poured what looked and smelled like tea into the cups.
“I don’t know, this rug looks pretty dirty. It’s going to ruin my suit.” Deadpool may have protested, but he plopped himself on the floor.
Peter joined him with a bit of caution to his movements. The carpet was old and thin. The floor beneath it was hard and would probably damage something if Peter dropped himself on it.
With a gaudy lighter, the sorcerer lit the incense burner. Dr. Strange thanked him again, and the the sorcerer gave a nod of acceptance. The sorcerer cast a Peter and Deadpool a look of distrust as he exited the room.
Dr. Strange handed Peter and Deadpool the two cups of tea. “These will help free your mind, and make it easer for you to peer into alternate universes.
Peter wrinkled his nose. Dread pulled on Peter’s stomach. Dr. Strange was a hero. He had worked with the Avengers, and he was pretty cool. Not as cool as Iron Man or Captain America, but still awesome enough that Peter had trusted the guy to help him, and Dr. Strange had. Now that Peter was sitting in what looked like a room belonging to a monastery and being offered a drink by essentially a stranger, he doubted himself and Dr. Strange.
“All right, let’s try some of these psychedelic drugs.” Deadpool lifted up the bottom half of his mask and downed the tea.
Peter blinked then stared at the scared skin on Deadpool’s chin. The scars were red and angry. Peter’s jaw ached in sympathy. He wondered what the hell had happened to Deadpool for him to get scars like that.
“The hell?” Deadpool ripped the cup from his mouth and scowled. “That was just regular tea.”
“You sure the drugs aren’t just tasteless?” Peter asked.
“There are no drugs in the tea,” Dr. Strange stated. “The tea is meant to calm and relax you. That is all.”
“This sucks,” Deadpool whined and dropped his cup on the ground.
Peter looked at the cup in his hands. He sniffed the beverage. It smelled like chamomile. Hesitant, Peter sipped the tea. He didn’t taste anything odd, so he he continued to drink until he slurped up the last drop. He set the cup aside. “Now what?”
Dr. Strange thrust his palms at Peter and Deadpool’s foreheads. “Now, I free you from your physical constraints.”
One moment Peter was sitting on the floor and the next he was floating above his body. Peter barely had time to panic as a force pushed him backwards. He cried out in shock. A wispy figure of Deadpool shouted something beside him, but Peter couldn’t make out his words. A blinding white light shined behind them, and soon Peter was thrown into it.
There were stars and galaxies around Peter. He flipped and spun in the vacuum of space, only to be pulled toward a door. Peter reached out to grab something, and his hands gripped Deadpool’s.
“Wild ride, right?” Deadpool hollered.
Then they weren’t in space anymore. Peter didn’t know where they were, but everything was distorted. A Dali’s painting was more comprehensible then the aurora like skies and the neon green bridges that connected doors, pits, and toxic looking lakes.
It all faded to black.
Peter squeezed Deadpool’s hands, needing an anchor. He didn’t feel Deadpool though.
The blinding light that had sucked Peter in returned with images of himself, except they weren’t of him. The person he saw looked like him, but the things that version of him did were impossible for Peter. The person wore a spandex suit and saved people. He called himself Spider-Man. He fought alongside other heroes. He even joined forces with Deadpool to fight a monkey assassin.
He saw himself with the friends he’d had before his parents had died and he had been put into foster care. He saw himself break down over the loss of a friend. He saw himself with his Aunt May.
Suddenly Peter was back in the room with Dr. Strange and Deadpool.
“Whoa! What a trip. Who needs drugs when you can do that. Right, Baby bo-Fuck!”
Deadpool’s curse snapped Peter out of his daze.
Tears rolled down Peter’s cheek. He’d been crying.
Wade Wilson (Deadpool) x Child! Reader
Request: Can you write a fluffy Wade Wilson [Deadpool] x Child! Reader?
Re: I hope you like it! Sorry if I got his character wrong. I don’t know much about this guy’s personality!
Genre: Friendship/Family, Fluff
Warnings: ITS SO FLUFFEH, swearing
Wade didn’t know much about kids but enough for someone to trust him enough to make him a involuntary babysitter. His best friend was going on a cruise, asking for Wade to watch her little girl until she got back and left.
‘Wow, what a fuckin parent you are.’
Thought Wade as the mother left in a hurry. The little child in front of him stared up at him and asked quietly.
“Can I come in?”
Wade nodded and stepped aside, letting the child in. She set her bags on the floor beside the door and Wade asked.
“Are you uh…hungry?”
The girl looked up at him and nodded, taking his hand. Wade was shocked but let her hold his hand, leading her to the kitchen. He picked her up and set her in a chair, pushing it in.
“I don’t have a lot…”
Wade turned and asked as he got out a box of mac and cheese.
“How come you couldn’t go with your mom?”
The girl sighed and looked down at the table, whispering.
“Mommy doesn’t really like me around her when she goes out. Says it’ll prevent boys from liking her.”
Wade frowned. He knew how your mother was but didn’t think she would neglect you like that. He said, sitting beside you and hugging you into his side.
“Well, I’m gonna make sure you have fun here. Ok, little lady?”
(Y/n) smiled and hugged him.
She pulled back and gave a sly smile.
“You’re Deadpool aren’t you?”
Wade felt his eyes widen and she said, hugging him.
“Don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me.”
Wade smiled a little and laid his head on yours, stating.
“Can we play sheriff when the food is done?”
“Shit! The food!”
“No no word!! You get 100 years in jail!”
I TRIED MY HARDEST OMFG. \(T-T)/
The one time Wade Wilson went to the Avengers for help.
Request - Where Wade and the reader are working together on a mission and the reader gets hurt pretty badly (like tortured or something) And Wade starts freaking out and takes her to the Avengers to try and get help for her because you’re really good friends with them too?
Pairing - Wade Wilson X Female Reader
Wordcount - 1,758
Warnings - Blood, Violence, a lot of swearing, Wade panicking, a confession, nudity. Over protective Wade.
The mission had been fairly simple to Wade. Break into the Hydra swarmed building, kill all of the baddies, go home, share a beer with his bestie and laugh about all the stupid people who tried to get in their way. A totally straight forward mission in which Wade got to take down a lot of bad guys who would do very bad things to you if they got their hands on you. Which relieved would have Wade’s worries about you going out and fighting crime and all of the bad people on a daily basis?
Notice the words would have. Wade’s fall proof plan didn’t go to plan. It went the total opposite and Wade’s worst fear was realised.
You and Wade had gotten separated after Wade had distracted a group of Hydra agents leaving you with five. He knew you could quite easily take them down. As Wade disappeared from sight further down the corridor, he hadn’t expected another group of Hydra agents to burst into the corridor. You kicked and jabbed, stabbed, attacked all of the agents with all your might yet no matter how you hard you tried you were unable to beat the large group of agents. They beat you down and left you bleeding on the cold stone floors. Thankfully the agents were far too stupid to check for a pulse. Maybe it was the pool of blood that tricked the Agents. Man, you were tired. Maybe you could just lay here for a while.
“Hey doll face, how many people did you take down, I bet you hadn’t beaten me on how many stupid baddies I’ve taken down today- what the fuck- sweet Jesus.” Wade looked down at your unconscious body surrounded by a pool of your own blood.
“Y/N, this better be some sick joke.” Wade leant down shaking your body, trying to get you to wake up. To yell boo or something. But when you didn’t Wade began to get fearful.
“Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do? Think Wade, think. Avengers! I’ll take Y/N to the Avengers, she knows them. They will help. The things I do for you going to the stupid fucking Avengers for help, Y/N, you better not fucking die on me!” Wade scooped you up and fleeing for Avenger tower.
Wade rushed into the Avengers tower, pressing every button he could on the elevator.
“Mr Deadpool sir, I am afraid you have been banned from this building. Mr Stark was not pleased the last time you came to visit” The stupid computer voice spoke. Wade rolled his eyes.
“I don’t care what the tin man thinks. Y/N is bleeding to death and this is the only stinking place I can think of. Does he really believe that I want to be in this shit hole either!”
“Very well sir, I will send you right up to the infirmary, Dr Banner will be waiting for you.” Wade stepped into the elevator, holding you close to his body.
“Finally! You, people, call yourselves Y/N’s friends as you let her bleed out! If Y/N wasn’t so fucking fond of you, I would blow all of your fucking brains out right now. Count yourselves lucky!“ The elevator finally stopped and Wade stepped out of the elevator and met with Bruce Banner or the jolly green giant as Wade liked to call him.
“Here place her down on the bed, I’m going to need you to leave, so I can attend to Y/N.” Bruce carefully began to try to analysis on your body, Wade wasn’t going to leave you. No freaking way!
“I am not leaving my best girl!” Wade raised his voice very slightly. No way was Jolly Green Gaint telling him to leave you alone. Bruce was not in the mood to argue with Wade so he simply nodded pointing a nearby chair. See that wasn’t so hard.
Wade sat in silence, with his paper and crayons. He thought you might like it when you eventually work up. It was a picture of you and him kicking all the baddies ass. Wade was sitting there rather peacefully until Tony Stark sauntered into the infirmary.
“Was I not entirely clear when I told you more than once that you are banned from entering my tower! No matter the circumstances! We will look after Y/N but you need to leave and leave now!” Wade rolled his eyes, this is what happens when you get rich and fly around in a suit claiming you’re some top notch superhero. Wade stood up, a smile on his face, not that old tin man could see.
“Listen here tin man. There is no fucking way I am leaving my best girl alone while she bleeds to death! I don’t give a flying monkey’s ass what you tell me to do or what you think of me! But until Y/N is staring right at me with those beautiful Y/C/E. I am not leaving. So go back to playing soldiers and leave me the fuck alone! Oh, and by the way, I don’t want to fucking be here any more than you want me to be, but Y/N needs you and I’m going to have to put up with you until she’s awake.”
Wade slumped down into a chair and continued to draw. He was going to make this perfect before your eyes fluttered open. However, Wade was counting down the hours, until you woke up. Spending time with the Avengers was not something Wade ever wanted to do again.