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k-nayee · 2 months ago

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Like Father, Like Hellspawn Deadpool ii

wc: 5.7k a/n: got carried away and was writing too much🤭

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recap

Finally holstering your weapons, you turned to Deadpool with a grin beneath your mask. A mask that was a perfect mirror image of his.

You practically bounced over to him as casual as someone greeting an old friend.

Then, in the most cheerful, sing-song voice imaginable, you threw your hands up like a child and chirped—

"HI DADDY!!"

BANG!!

Your body jolted violently, the kinetic force of the bullet slamming through your forehead with such deadly precision your head snapped backward and knees buckled.

Time seemed to slow as your limp frame crumpled to the concrete with a thud, limbs folding awkwardly beneath you like a marionette with its strings cut.

The hole between your eyes smoked faintly as a spreading pool of blood bloomed thickly beneath your head into the grime-streaked ground.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

No one moved.

Negasonic Teenage Warhead stared in disbelief, mouth parted slightly, eyes wide behind her dark eyeliner.

Yukio gasped, delicate hands flying to cover her lips.

Colossus stumbled back a step, silver frame somehow pale with horror. His deep voice fractured into a rasped accusation. “Wade...what have you done?”

Even Logan looked momentarily frozen, steel-gray eyes narrowing into a dangerous glare as his drawl cut through like a jagged blade. “Jesus Christ.”

And Deadpool himself?

Well he just stood at the center of the chaos, one arm still outstretched holding the raised pistol. The barrel smoked faintly as his entire stance radiated the universal body language of uh-oh.

His masked gaze dropped to your lifeless form, then up to the stunned team.

Back at you.

Then them.

You.

Them.

He even tilted his head further as if maybe—just maybe—the scene would make more sense from a different angle. (It didn’t.)

“Okay—” Wade finally blurted, both hands raised like a kid caught red-handed next to the empty cookie jar. “You all saw that right? She jumped at me. She said the D-word! Who says that unironically?”

He basically barks out, somewhere between hysterical panic and righteous indignation as he points a shaky finger at the blood-streaked heap that was your body.

“That’s terrifying! You don’t just vaporize a whole warehouse of criminals and then skip over like Mary Poppins and say, ‘Hi, Daddy!’ like this is a goddamn trauma-themed tea party! That’s not normal!”

Negasonic slowly crossed her arms tightly across her chest, jaw tight. “You shot her in the face Wade.”

Colossus loomed closer with a solemn nod, eyes still locked on the corpse. “You shot your daughter. Right between the eyes. Very clean.”

“Allegedly and thank you,” Wade proudly answered automatically, then caught himself. “NO! Not thank you! The shot was a reflex! A panic shot! It happens! You guys remember the pancake incident of ’23!”

No one laughed.

Yukio cautiously knelt a few feet from you, caught somewhere between concern and disbelief. “I think...I think she was actually trying to hug you...”

Wade rounded on her, flailing both arms like a malfunctioning windmill. “Hugs kill too Yukio! Emotional vulnerability is a weapon!”

From behind Logan sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose with the weariness of a man who had seen things. “She's wearing your mask Wade.”

Wade spun to face him in retaliation. “Lots of people wear my mask! Ever heard of merch? I’m iconic! There’s literally a bobblehead of me somewhere in Topeka—”

A low and wet revolting crack interrupted causing every head to whipped toward the source....you.

Your back spasmed once—then twice—as vertebrae realigned with an audible pop. A shudder rippled through your lifeless frame.

Head lolling grotesquely from side to side, your fractured and pulped skull began knitting itself back together with sickening crunches of bone and cartilage; shrinking slowly under the fabric of your ruined mask as the surrounding blood retracted unnaturally back into your veins.

Then, with a deep guttural gasp of a diver breaking the surface of water, your body arched violently off the ground as if pulled by an invisible force and sat up.

“OH GOD IT’S ALIVE!” Wade shrieked like someone had shoved an ice cube down his suit.

Groaning, you lifted one gloved hand to your forehead, rubbing absently at the nearly closed bullet wound.

"Ugh... that tickled my frontal lobe," you muttered under the battered mask. It hurt to move your mouth, muscles stiff with the lingering echo of death, but you grinned anyway.

Because he shot you.

Of course Deadpool—your father in any universe—responded to overwhelming emotional vulnerability by putting a bullet in your face.

God. You missed him.

The others, however, did not seem as charmed by your resurrection. They stood frozen in a semi-circle around you like statues, their expressions a medley of disbelief, horror, and (in Logan’s case) thinly veiled annoyance.

You rolled your neck slowly, vertebrae popping and crackling with each careful tilt of your head. It sounded like a bonfire chewing through dry kindling.

Finally, you turned your gaze on Wade.

"That really hurt ya know," your voice was sweet and syrupy with mock hurt. "Right in the ‘daddy issues.’"

The noise Deadpool made was somewhere between a dying blender and a cat choking on a hairball.

Logan could only give a single slow nod. Voice flat and unimpressed as he turns to Wade. “You still think it’s alleged now dumbass?”

The last syllable barely left Logan’s mouth when a ripple of horrified realization swept through the group.

Because he was right. The bullet had gone clean through your brain. You should be dead.

You could almost hear the mental gears grinding inside Wade’s head as he processed the undeniable truth staring him in the face: the truth that only he and a select handful of freaks could survive a bullet through the brain like it was an inconvenient paper cut.

The truth that somehow... impossibly... undeniably—

You were his daughter.

For a single glorious heartbeat the carefully built walls around Wade seemed to crumble.

His posture softened, shoulders drooping like a deflated balloon as his eyes flicked between your eerily calm form and the shredded corpses of the gangsters strewn across the warehouse floor.

And then—

Wade suddenly drops his weapons entirely, spreading his arms wide in mock-tragic overexuberance. “MY BABY GIRL!”

You didn’t hesitate.

In fact you doubled down.

With all the dramatic flair of a star-crossed heroine reuniting with a long-lost parent on the fields of battle, you got to your feet and staggered toward him with a theatrical limp.

“Oh Father!” you cried in perfect melodramatic agony. “How I have longed to see you again!”

The impact sent Wade staggering back a step but he caught you easily. He squeezed you tight like a kid gripping a teddy bear mid-nightmare, practically vibrating with pent-up emotion and chaotic joy.

Behind you the rest of Wade’s ragtag team watched in varying states of horror, discomfort, and mild nausea.

Negasonic brows raised in trademark disdain, scowling at the display. “As much as I hate this sickening-ass Lifetime Original reunion,” she interrupted dryly, “that still doesn’t explain who the hell you are or the absolute shitstorm of chaos you’ve been causing all over the city.”

You were about to reply in feigned offense when Wade beat you to it. He whirled around dramatically, shielding you behind his frame like an overprotective bulldog. His voice dropped into an offended snarl.

“How dare you?” he barked, pointing a gloved finger at her. “That’s my daughter! She knows exactly what she’s doing. Don’t question her methods. It’s rude.”

Then, under his breath, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper only you could hear. “You do know what you’re doing right?”

You tilted your head toward him, replying softly and sweetly, “Most definitely.”

Wade straightened up with renewed bravado and announced to the room, “See?! She knows what she’s doing!”

Logan exhaled loudly through his nose, utterly unconvinced and clearly desperate to distance himself from the nonsense.

Colossus (bless him) stepped forward, steel armored skin glinting under the flickering warehouse lights. His booming Russian-accented voice was warm and brimmed with sincerity.

“Oh how wonderful! A family reunited is always a beautiful sight...” he rumbled, massive hands clasping together in front of his chest. “To witness such joy is a blessing.”

Logan waved a hand at the carnage that surrounded them—the bullet-riddled bodies, the wrecked vehicles, the shattered crates. "We're literally standing in a puddle of dead gangsters that she was a part of. This ain't no Hallmark moment, bub."

"Hey!" You pulled back slightly from Wade and wagged a matter-of-factly finger at Logan. "There are over eight billion people on this rock. I couldn’t exactly go door-to-door asking: ‘Hi, are you Wade Wilson? Do you have regenerative abilities? Did you ever father a child and abandon them to the winds of fate?’”

You gesture vaguely at Logan’s massive frame. “And here I thought even you, Mr. Wolverine, with your brooding scowl and criminally hot muscle-bound body, would appreciate that logic. Tch.”

Logan stared. Blinked once. Twice. Without a word, he takes a full step away from you, almost as if proximity alone might trigger further chaos. “Yeah...you’re his kid all right.”

You laughed lightly at that and sauntered toward him. “Oh don't be so uptight wolvie!” You slowly drag a single finger down his chest, tracing the seam of his muscle as if admiring a marble sculpture. “Wanna massage to help? I'll even give ya a happy ending—free of charge~”

Before you could trace any higher Logan’s claws shot out violently. He slashed downward in a warning swipe, severing your hand clean at the wrist.

The gloved appendage fell to the ground with a soft wet slap, fingers curling slightly in postmortem spasm as blood immediately gushed from the wound in hot crimson spurts.

You stared at the severed hand lying on the concrete floor, blinking once...then twice.

Wade stared.

Logan stared.

Negasonic stared.

Everyone stared.

Then calmly, you bend down and scoop up the limp hand and rotate it in your remaining grip. With an exaggerated flourish, you twisted and shaped until it forms a clumsy but unmistakable finger heart with the thumb and index finger.

“Here you go!” You shoved it toward Logan with a bright and chirpy voice. “Not my real heart, but it’ll do.”

A tiny spray of blood splattered across Logan’s scowl as he glanced at the dismembered hand and your cheesing smile.

Behind you Wade was practically vibrating with glee, clapping his hands like a proud dad at a kindergarten recital. "That's my girl!" he cooed.

The bleeding slowed to sluggish drips as your body’s regenerative magic kicked in with gory efficiency. Thick sinew and bone began the grisly process of reconstructing itself beneath the torn sleeve.

Still...you didn’t have a hand nor wrist. (Minor details.)

You dusted your hand(s) off, turning back toward the group

—just as the wail of sirens rose sharply in the distance, growing louder with every second.

Wade’s whole body sagged with a loud groan. "Ah shit. I forgot we made that deal with the cops to take out the DeLuca gang. They’re on their way.”

You glanced around at the sea of corpses. "...I mean...they’re dead but go off I guess."

Negasonic rolled her eyes. “That includes you too dipshit.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a blood-smeared stub over your chest. “Moi?! Well then she" You accusingly jab the stump at Yukio "She’s going in too. She was just as much in cahoots!”

The team was taken aback by the revelation.

Wade turned to you, eyes wide behind his mask. "Wait, you knew she was a mole?"

You opened your arms in mock defiance. "Hell yeah I ran this place! Well..." you kicked over a crate, sending a head rolling out. "Not much left to run now."

You shot Yukio a smug look. "And by the way...you might wanna be more careful with your phone settings. Wasn't too hard to bug it. And oooh! All the spicy text messages between you and your girlfriend over there."

You waggled your eyebrows suggestively as Yukio’s face flushed a deep furious red.

“I mean that embarrassing thing you did at the pier? Oh c—”

A sudden surge of blinding firepower cuts your words off, bursting through your chest as a scowling Negasonic's extended hand still pulsed with a violent atomic energy.

She shook her head and turned to the others. “We’re gonna let her get arrested.”

Wade threw his hands in the air as your convulsed steaming body collapsed. “And let them take away my perfect and indestructible sassy-as-fuck child? Hell no!”

The rest of the team groaned in unison at his predictability. But none of them moved to stop him.

As the sirens grew ever nearer, Wade cheerfully hoisted your limp and semi-charred frame over his shoulder with surprising tenderness.

Straightening, he adjusts you like a sack of potatoes before casually strolling toward the exit with a whistle.

"We’ll just say she died in the massacre," he called over his shoulder lightly. "And we burned the body out of spite. Everybody cool? Cool."

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

The first thing you felt was softness.

A warm worn couch cradled your aching body, the cushions sinking beneath your weight as though trying to swallow you whole.

Limbs heavy and muscles sore, skin was tender where the atomic energy blast had danced through you. You groaned softly, shifting just enough to pull your legs up and curl your stiff fingers against your chest.

Your healing factor worked fast. The worst of the pain was already fading. But the exhaustion? That was bone-deep.

You peeled open your eyes.

The first thing you registered was the familiar grandiose design: sweeping staircase, polished hardwood floors, stained glass windows filtering soft morning light across expensive-looking antique furniture.

A giant oil painting of some dead white guy stared down at you from the far wall, his expression permanently locked in judgment.

Your brows knit beneath your still-cracked mask.

"...What the actual hell?"

You sat up slowly, eyes scanning the oversized lounge with growing suspicion. The room was eerily familiar. It had the air of old money meets superhero boarding school.

A sharp inhale escaped you. 'No way.'

Your heart gave an odd little flip of excitement. "Oh shit....Am I in Xavier’s Mansion?" Like...the actual X-Mansion!?

You’d only ever heard about it in rumors and messy side mission reports. Were you really about to meet the real Professor X, Storm, Jean Grey, maybe even Nightcrawler? Gosh you’d always wanted to pet his tail—

Joy deflated in record time the moment your eyes landed on the cheap Ikea lamp duct-taped to a corner table. The peeling leather recliner patched with bright pink Hello Kitty duct tape. An half-eaten burger left abandoned on the expensive Persian rug.

You sighed heavily, flopping dramatically back into the cushions. "Of course."

Of course you weren’t in the X-Mansion. This wasn’t the prestigious, state-of-the-art mutant sanctuary. You’d been brought to the Wish.com version.

The knockoff team base.

The Dollar Store X-Men.

"Figures," you muttered bitterly, throwing your arm over your eyes. Before you could spiral deeper into self-pity a familiar voice broke through the silence.

"Heads up!"

Instincts kicked in. You snapped your hand out just in time to snatch an object sailing toward your face.

A warm chimichanga, still wrapped snugly in foil, rested in your palm.

You stared at it blankly as a shaky huff of laughter escaped your throat. 'Same as always...' “Thanks...” you breathed weakly.

Across the room, Wade Wilson stood framed in the doorway. Gone was the red and black suit; instead he wore threadbare gray sweatpants and a dingy stretched-out white t-shirt that had seen better decades.

With the mask off his scarred hairless head caught the warm light. Sunken eyes and a twisted mouth...a deep roadmap of burns and lumpy scar tissue that resembled a melted candle with attitude.

"Don’t mention it kiddo," he said through a full mouth of his own chimichanga, flopping bonelessly into a sagging recliner across from you.

He spread his legs wide, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, the other lifting for another obnoxious bite, sauce and crumbs falling freely.

"For god’s sake Wade! Stop eating like a damn pig."

You craned your neck to see a woman standing in the hallway struggling to balance several overfilled bags, narrowed exasperated eyes that softened only slightly when they locked on Wade.

Predictably, the animated mercenary ignored her plight entirely with a lazy finger wave of his free hand.

"Hey babe! This is who I’ve been telling you about." He jerked the foil-wrapped food in your direction like it was an extension of his arm. Sauce and shredded meat flung violently onto the rug. "Child, meet the love of my life, my light in the darkness, my ride-or-die..." he lowered his voice dramatically, "Vanessa."

The woman—Vanessa—paused mid-step. Her eyes flickered toward you as if only now realizing you existed. You froze, holding the chimichanga awkwardly in both hands, still curled on your side like some startled raccoon.

Vanessa's expression softened and her lips quirked into a quick polite smile. "I'd give you a proper hello, but..." she tilted her head toward the bags, "...I’m a little full."

Dark eyes sharply flicked back to Wade. "Someone decided to go ahead and inhale the takeout instead of helping me carry anything."

Wade stuffed the rest of the meal in his mouth and spoke around it. “Now you know I’d never stand in the way of your independence babe. Besides, gotta make sure my seed is fed after all.” He jerked a scarred thumb toward you proudly.

You stared, blinking at the surreal sight, the still-warm chimichanga resting heavily in your hand.

Before Vanessa could skewer him with her glare—

"Let him keep eating. Maybe the bastard’ll choke."

Logan.

The man appeared in the doorway, bags slung effortlessly in both arms, his massive shoulders filling the frame. His grizzled features twisted into the permanent scowl of someone forced to tolerate Wade’s existence for far too long.

Without ceremony, he snatched two of the heavier bags from Vanessa’s grip. She gave him a grateful look.

“Okay...” Wade finished his meal with a loud swallow and suddenly popped up from his seat with forced enthusiasm. “Now I’ll help!”

Logan and Vanessa both immediately shifted out of his way, scowling in perfect unison as they dodged his flailing hands.

“Too late for that,” Vanessa muttered under her breath as she dropped the bags on the coffee table in the center of the room.

Logan followed, brushing past Wade deliberately with a shoulder-check so hard it sends the mercenary stumbling sideways.

Wade, true to form, spun and collapsed onto the floor with a drawn-out wail. "ASSAULT!" he cries. "I’VE BEEN ASSAULTED BY A HAIRY CANADIAN!"

The chaos only escalated as more familiar faces walked in.

"Shut the hell up you whiner!" Negasonic barked as she stomped into the room, Yukio and Colossus trailing close behind, arms also loaded with bags as well.

Without missing a beat, she sends a sharp kick directly into Wade’s side. The vigilante groaned and rocked gently on the floor.

"My child...avenge me!" He whimpers weakly.

“Nah.” You waved him off, casually taking a massive bite of the chimichanga as you stretched luxuriously across the long armchair, your mask fully off and tossed onto the couch beside you revealing the sweat-slick hair clung to your temples.

The room froze once they realize this; all eyes turning to you in varying degrees of surprise, confusion, and curiosity.

You blinked, chewing slowing down. "What?" you asked flatly, lowering the half-eaten food. "Do I have something on my face?"

That snapped Wade out of his daze. He lurched to his feet with a gasp, hand slapping across his mouth in shock as his eyes bulged cartoonishly wide. "...Oh my god."

"...well damn." Your stomach sank slightly at the reaction. "I must be hideous or something."

You reached calmly for your mask, fingers brushing over the familiar texture. "Welp. There goes a major blow to my ego. Lemme just put this back o—"

"W-wait! Don’t!" Wade blurted out.

You froze.

"You’re not ugly," he insisted. His voice was softer this time, almost panicked. "You’re just....not what I expected." He turned to his teammates, eyes narrowing threateningly. "Back me up. Now."

The group shifted uncomfortably. Logan scowled deeper. Negasonic crossed her arms tighter. They all knew better than to poke the Wade Wilson bear when he got like this.

Colossus spoke first, earnest and sincere as ever. “You are very striking,” he said kindly.

Yukio nodded enthusiastically. “Very cute!”

Even Logan, jaw clenched, forced out through gritted teeth, “You look... fine.”

Negasonic gave a long suffering sigh. “Yeah sure. You’re pretty. Whatever.”

You beamed, preening at the half-hearted praise as you dramatically tossed the mask back onto the couch and took another satisfied bite of chimichanga. "Mmm. Thank you Ellie~"

Ellie's eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits. “You don’t have permission to use my civilian name,” she snapped. “It’s Negasonic to you.”

You pretend to consider it, licking a stray glob of sour cream from your thumb as you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Yeah...no. Prefer to call people by their actual government names. Sowwy.”

Colossus chuckled warmly as he continued unpacking and arranging boxes and containers across the low table with delicate care despite his massive steel hands. "I do not mind. Names bring companions closer together."

You smiled, turning your attention to him. "Exactly Piotr." You paused and added warmly in perfect Russian, "Спасибо тебе, мой стальной брат." (Thank you, my brother of steel)

Piotr blinked, visibly surprised. His metal brow lifted slightly, mouth parting for a half second before softening into the faintest smile. His entire body seemed to relax with pleased astonishment.

He replied with matching warmth, "Не за что, маленькая звезда смерти." (your welcome, little death star)

Your grin widened. It was hard to catch the team’s stoic tank off-guard, and you considered that a small victory.

As the others busied themselves, Vanessa, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the exchange, continued to watch you from across the room. Finally, as if coming to a decision, she stepped forward.

You froze as she approached. The room felt suddenly smaller, the soft buzzing of a nearby lamp growing louder in your ears.

Closing the space between you with slow deliberate movements, Vanessa leaned down, slender fingers reaching out to gently tilt your chin up, brushing lightly against your jaw as her thumb rested against the curve of your cheekbone.

Your breath hitched faintly as you stared up at her wide-eyed, caught somewhere between confusion and fascination.

Brows furrowed deeply, she studied your face in absolute silence for what felt like an eternity. Her dark lashes cast long shadows beneath her eyes as she scrutinized every angle.

Once satiated, she leans back and nod. “I can see some resemblance to Wade in there.” she says at last.

You let out an groan as you dramatically tossed your head toward Wade. “Goddamn...” you muttered dryly. A slow smirk spread across your lips, eyes narrowing with wicked intent. “Would you be mad if I tried to fuck your woman old man?”

The room came to an immediate crashing halt.

Vanessa sputtered, mouth falling open as she reared back with a choked half-laugh half-gasp as Logan groaned audibly and turned away with a grimace.

Wade didn’t even flinch. He swallowed a bite of another chimichanga and waved a dismissive hand, still chewing as he spoke. “As much as I would give you everything kiddo...you can’t have Vanessa. Them’s the rules.”

You held up your hands in mock defeat. “Understandable. Have a nice day.”

Logan let out a guttural bark of disbelief. “How low-down can you be?!” His heavy boots thudded as his face twisted somewhere between irritation and mild disgust. “Isn’t Vanessa basically like your mom or something?”

You nearly doubled over laughing, slapping your thigh as you wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Shawty? Hell no,” you snorted. “Vanessa’s most definitely not my mom. Doesn’t look a damn thing like her.”

You stood and motioned dramatically at yourself, fingers running theatrically along the outline of your features; from your fluffy hair down to the gloved hand against your toned skin. “Look at me! You really think this woman popped me out?”

Logan’s mouth snapped shut. He grimaced and narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to find the words and failing miserably. He finally pressed his lips into a thin line and muttered, “...Whatever. Still weird though.”

Wade, never one to pass up an opportunity, immediately swung a heavy arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side like a proud dad showing off his kid at a science fair.

“Can’t help it Wolverine,” he stated smugly. “It’s in our DNA to have impeccable taste.”

You nod along solemnly .“Agreed. No discrimination over here. If you’re hot? Game over for me. It’s a wrap: Man, woman, non-binary badass, alien demigod, vampire dominatrix, whatever.” You paused thoughtfully and let your lips curl into a smile. “Even heroes. Like... I don’t know...”

You drew it out intentionally and syrupy-sweet, watching as Wade narrowed his eyes suspiciously at your tone like a hound catching scent until you finally said it:

“...Spider-Man?”

The reaction was immediate.

Wade’s head snapped toward you so fast you half-expected a cracking sound. His eyes widened comically. “Shut up!” he gasped, between disbelief and something dangerously close to excitement.

Before you could even blink, he yanked you to sit down beside him on the couch, scarred hands framing your face firmly, holding your cheeks in place like a gossip-starved aunt who had just cornered you at a family wedding.

“Tell me every-fucking-thing!” he demanded, shaking you lightly with each word.

You slap at his arms as you wheezed, “Okay okay, stop! Jesus Wade!”

He finally let go but didn’t move far; sitting cross-legged and hunched forward, his hands clasped tightly on his lap, rocking slightly like a kid awaiting storytime.

You settled comfortably into the cushions as you took another chomp of chimichanga, savoring the center of attention.

“It was freshman year of college when we ran into each other,” you started wistfully, like a storyteller remembering the beginning of an epic legend. “Literally. Stormed into the lecture hall chest-first into this scrawny nerd with coffee and a backpack twice his size. Dumped his drink all over my brand-new hoodie.”

You paused for dramatic effect, watching Yukio and Vanessa lean in ever so slightly. Even Logan had subtly shifted his weight toward you, arms crossed, jaw tight but listening.

“Of course we argued. I told him off. He babbled apologies. Classic meet-cute disaster.” You sighed dramatically. “It should’ve ended there but fate had other ideas. Because a week later? We crossed paths again. Only this time he was in full spandex swinging across rooftops. Turns out both of us had been operating under masks the entire time. Him, Spider-Man. Me, Deadpool.”

“Um actually,” Wade immediately raise a finger up at that. “You can't be Deadpool because I—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off with a grin. “But it got really interesting when I found out his secret identity.” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Crime-fighting date nights. Web-swinging across Manhattan at 2 AM. Dude has stamina like you wouldn’t believe.”

Wade was practically vibrating next to you, his hands squeezing your shoulders hard enough to almost pop a joint. “You fucked Spider-Man?!”

You gave wistful sigh and popped the last bite of your chimichanga into your mouth. “Oh most definitely. Many times in fact! Did you know that man likes going at it on rooftops? Bridges too. Apparently it’s the thrill of heights and getting seen.” You snorted. “The freak.”

There was a stunned silence, then the room practically tilted toward you.

But you weren’t finished.

“And...I may or may not have taken Captain America’s V-card during one of me and Spidey's little ‘off-again’ phases.”

The bomb dropped like a thunderclap.

Wade sputtered violently like a broken espresso machine, eyes bulging as he choked on absolutely nothing.

“EXCUSE ME?” he shrieked. “No. No, absolutely not. Steve Rogers is America’s ass, not yours. There’s no way. You’re full of it.”

You nodded enthusiastically, head lifted with an indignant sniff. “Oh hell yes. I tapped that. Turns out he only told people he lost it during the 1943 USO tour to keep Stark and Thor from bullying him. And let me tell ya: guy’s built like a Greek statue but soft as a marshmallow inside. Total sub. Puppy man all day.”

The team erupted again, everyone talking over each other in disbelief. Yukio had collapsed into Vanessa’s lap, giggling hysterically at this point while the brunette doubled over in laughter. Ellie on the other hand simply groaned loudly with a slap to her forehead, ignoring the way Piotr made a strangled metal noise and looked away awkwardly.

Wade, all the while, was still flailing. “No. No. No. No! Steve Rogers does not bottom. I refuse to believe this. My soul rejects this!”

Unfortunately, Logan had to be the one to end the fun. “Not possible anyway. They don’t exist.”

You froze.

For just a moment, your teasing bravado faded. Your lips parted slightly, breath catching faintly as the weight of reality slip back into your chest.

“Right...” You rubbed the back of your neck. “They’re not here because they're just in my universe.” You looked back up and offered a weak grin. “From Earth-617.”

The collective silence was deafening.

Wade, halfway through unwrapping his third chimichanga, froze completely. His jaw hung slack as the tortilla slipped limply from his fingers and plopped onto the table. “...you what?”

You bit back a grin. Straightening up a little to throw your arms open with an exaggerated shrug, the worn leather of your suit creaking slightly with the motion.

“C’mon!” you teased. “You really think I’d take over an entire crime syndicate, impersonate the city’s most wanted antihero and fight your team—” you pointed at the group with a lazy spin of your wrist “—all because I was bored? If I were local?”

You watched as realization slowly dawned across each face.

But it was Wade who sat back against the couch like he’d been sucker-punched, shoulders sagging as he dramatically wiped a nonexistent bead of sweat from his grotesquely scarred forehead. “Holy shit...” he whispered faintly. “You're serious.”

You nodded. “Yup. I’m from another Earth. Earth-617 to be exact.”

Casually unzipping the pocket on your tactical belt, you pull out a sleek black phone and unlock it with a flick of your thumb. The cracked screen glowed softly as you swiped through a series of photos.

There he was.

Your Wade.

Your father.

The ache that wrapped around your heart was bittersweet and unrelenting the longer you glanced at each image: you on rooftops at sunset with your Wade during a stakeout. Another of him ruffling your hair as you scowled playfully and tried to bat his hand away. Another of him carrying you piggyback during a gang shootout.

You paused on a particular image. It wasn’t as polished. It was slightly blurry, a selfie your Wade had taken on some random Tuesday before a job with your stolen phone. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, making a stupid kissy face with a peace sign raised.

You smiled softly.

Without looking up, you spun the phone around to face the others.

They all leaned in to get a closer look.

“Almost forgot….he had the most luscious blonde hair back in the day,” you murmured with a fond grin, swiping to an even older photo of your Wade before Weapon X ravaged him, probably no older than you were now. Rugged and handsome, his golden hair spilled messily over his forehead as he smiled effortlessly at the camera. “Total heartthrob. I mean look at this.”

The room couldn’t help themselves.

Logan let out a low grunt of reluctant approval as Vanessa's eyes widened. “Damn,” she murmured. “He’s fine as hell.”

You turned your head just in time to see Wade physically recoil backward as though he’d been shot point-blank. His scarred face twisted into an almost cartoonishly wounded grimace as his hand flew to his chest.

“Vanessa?!” he nearly wailed. “Are you seriously thirsting over alternate me?!”

You hid your smirk behind your hand. “Relax old man.”

Wade was in full pout-mode, his arms folding tightly across his chest as he mutter under his breath. “He’s not even that different…” he grumbles. “I'm sure there’s some resemblance between us.”

Dragging your gaze slowly and deliberately over Wade’s scarred face, you squint before shaking your head. “Nah. My dad and you look nothing alike.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “If anything...you kinda look like Ryan Reynolds.”

Wade pointed an accusatory finger at you with offended indignation. “You shut your filthy mouth!”

You shrugged with a wide grin. “I just call it like I see it.”

Wade let out a long suffering groan and slumped deeper into the couch, throwing his scarred arms dramatically over his face.

“I hate the multiverse,” he muttered. “First I get dragged into timeline shenanigans. Now I’m related to a sassier version of myself? What fresh cosmic bullshit is this?”

You smirked, leaning back into the cushions beside him, warm and weirdly comfortable for the first time in what felt like years. “You love it,” you said quietly.

Wade peeked at you from under his arm. His voice softened just a little. “...Yeah. I kinda do.”

You let your playful grin fade just a fraction as you stare down at the photo of your father still glowing faintly in your hand. The edges of the screen flickered softly. You thumbed it off and slipped the phone back into your belt with a soft click.

You didn’t say it aloud. You didn’t have to.

Different Earth. Different Wade. Different world.

“Hey kid,” Wade’s voice broke the quiet, back to full dramatic chaos. “Just so we’re clear... if any more alternate versions of you show up, I am not paying child support.”

You shook your head as you reached over to slug him lightly on the arm. “No promises old man.”

Off in the distance, sirens wailed faintly once again. Another mess waiting for you both. Another day, another ridiculous chapter about to begin.

You stood and stretched lazily with a grin. “C’mon Dad. Let’s go cause some responsible mayhem.”

Wade jumped up like an overexcited kid. “BEST. DAY. EVER.”

The two of you strode out together, the dysfunctional team trailing behind, bickering already. A new world. A second chance.

And maybe... just maybe... this was exactly where you were meant to be.

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