Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

If You Die, I'm Going to Kill You (Deadpool x reader)

Language, obviously.  

"What the shit, bro? Did you just hit her?" Deadpool yelled out in complete shock, quickly running his katana through the man he had been fighting only to turn to you and the guy who had the balls to actually strike back. "I know she's a girl, but come on, have some goddamn respect."

"She hit me first!"

"I don't care," he mocked, "you don't hit a woman. What the fuck kind of mother raised you?"

"Hey, let's not take this to mom town," you interrupted, "because we all know that bringing moms into the fight doesn't actually help the situation. I had to listen to Tony crying on my shoulder for months, and there's no way that I'm going through that again for you."

"That's just rude," Deadpool gasped, clutching his chest with his best attempt at being offended, "you don't have to be such a bitch about it."

"Okay, hold up," your assailant added, stopping with hands raised in question, "so let me get this straight. I can't hit her, but you can call her a bitch? That's what's completely rude, if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you, now did they?"

"Sorry, I just thought I'd help-"

"You're not helping," your friend huffed, turning his weapons on your target now that his was finished off. He easily ran his blades through the man and waited for him to slump down lifelessly on the ground at your feet before turning back to you. "There, I win."

With a loud huff, you returned your own weapons to their holsters, looking at him in complete disbelief, "what was that, Wade? I had him, you asshat."

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry!" he hurriedly apologized. He dropped his katana to the ground and scurried to the man, lifting him in his arms and holding in up in front of him, pretending to bring the poor man back to life by waving his limp hands back and forth as if to swing at you. "There! Get him now!"

"You're a jerk, you know that? Even Sam lets me take my own kills and you act like I can't handle myself. I don't need this, Wilson. I told you that I'd help you for a while, but I think it's time for me to tap out."

"No! No, no, no, no," he pleaded, dropping the man in a heap, "come on, (Y/N), pleeeeease? I don't want you to go, okay? I just wanted my best friend back, that's all! Ever since you went off to play with Captain Righteousness I never see you anymore. I thought we could bond a little over a few good murders, I swear. You know, like the good old days."

"In the good old days my kill ratio was higher than yours."

"It's been a slow few months, okay?" he groaned, resting his hands on his hips. "I haven't had much work to do, what with your crime fighting boy band all up in my business and that bald Heaven's Gate looking motherfucker on my back. You know, this used to never be a problem with us, this whole competition bullshit. It's almost like you're trying...too...hard..." he stopped, "wait! Are you not getting off now that Cap has you reigned in? Are your murder senses tingling in your Underoos and getting you all frustrated? Are you pent up with rage?"

"You're being ridiculous. I have plenty of work, thank you, and I'm nowhere near pent up."

"I could help you with that, you know."

"Back off, Pool, or I'll put you on my kill list and you'll see just how much I'm getting off."

"You. Wouldn't. Dare."

"Try me."

Deadpool stopped and held silent for a few minutes, bringing his hand up to rub over his chin thoughtfully, though you had every inclination that he wasn't thinking about anything at all and merely trying to stall. It was true that the man was one of your best friends and had been long before you were invited to join the Avengers, and though you wouldn't readily admit it to him, you were still a little mad that he hadn't come along with you. He knew how you felt, but the last thing that he wanted was to go legit when he found his new lifestyle as reckless vigilante much more his style, and if nothing else, he was all about style.