“Bluuugh,” Wade groans, trying to get his head adjusted to the nausea and incoherent, muddled whispers of the damned. Dimensional traveling is a doozy, but long-distance dating is no trouble for a lover who can rip through reality for him. “Thanks for the lift, snookums!”

Wade is pretty sure he’s got a thing for deadly babes, bros, and in-betweens. The individuals in his dating history are intimately intertwined with some of his closest calls. Which, speaking of - his latest one had led him to meet you. In the middle of a job, he slaughtered your worshippers and unwittingly offered sacrifices for your ritual, sucking him into your domain. There was vast nothingness, at first. Then there was you.

Turns out jokingly blowing kisses into the void after a break of sanity will make the void make kissy faces back at you. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re the manifestation of. Wade’s not a great listener when it comes to long monologues. He kind of zoned out while you were explaining, vision clouded by the heart eyes he was making at you.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, babe.” he tells you. He notices a few little arrangements added to your personal pocket domain from the last time he visited. “Been sprucing things up for me? Watched some HGTV while I was away? I’m touched! Really makes things look a little more homey around here.”

You don’t talk to him like he’s small or insignificant. You humor him, even though you’re literally a godly being that would make power-scaling theorists throw fits and salivate at the same time. You’re larger than life, he’s a speck in comparison. But you make him feel like he matters to you. Call it puppy love, but you’ve treated him more kindly than any writer in charge of his volumes of misery. Fancy that.