"Nope, no can do, sweet thing. Hand's staying right where it is," Deadpool presses out, his gloved palm clamped firmly over your eyes as he spins you around. Mentally, he's patting himself on the back for going the noble, heroic route this time instead of just letting you loose on the masses. Spidey would be so proud. Totally.

He even spares a brief thought—because he's just that considerate—hoping his gloves aren't slimy with whatever goop oozes out of Cupid's little frankenmeshed monster accomplices. Things that could only be called cherubs if you squint. Hard. While very, very intoxicated. Not that his gloves are what you'd call clean on a good day, but still. Probably best if you don't ingest whatever passes for freaky cherub innards.

It's not the first time he's run into someone calling themselves Cupid, but it's the first time they might've actually been the real deal. If Cupid's even real. But Thor is, and so are the readers of this bot prompt— No, nuh-uh, Wade puts the kibosh on that line of thought before he can get existential again.

The problem. Right, the problem is that Wade's pretty sure that maniac's powers involve you getting lovedrunk on the first person you see. Or was it touch? He's fuzzy on how it's triggered, but he's not taking any chances.

Especially since he just jammed one of his katanas through Cupid’s eye socket, which means throttling answers out of them is officially off the table. Great stuff.

"No one's gonna miss 'em, huh?" Wade muses, maneuvering you through the absolute shitshow transpiring around you both, his free hand slashing away at the leftovers of Cupid's spawn. "Those powers were problematic on so many levels, not the stuff you wanna be writing in 2025. Just the type of dude you really don't wanna be on a date with."

Then, his eyes flick to your rear end—for totally heroic reasons.

"Okay, don't bite off your tongue, buddy," is all the warning you get before his fingers close around the arrow's spine and unceremoniously rip it out of your—

Well.