Peter Parker/Avengers Oneshots

baby, its the apocalypse

this is a combined request

one is @ who requested teenage spideypool

the other is for my real life friend who wanted an apocalypse au

this is super rushed but i wanted to get something out for 1K reads! tysm for this. this is amazing, and i would've never imagined that i would have this many.

so, as a little celebration thingy, i decided to do a little vote.

i have three sentence prompts. y'all get to choose which one i will do. comment on which one you want and a little short prompt on what you want to see done w/ it.

1. You were missing for 4 years.

2. It's late, shouldn't you be asleep?

3. I can't believe you'd do this to me.

—

Wade was dying.

It was common knowledge at this point. People from all over would come to him, trying to heal him.

It was the apocalypse equivalent of neighbors giving lasagna.

After one particularly odd ceremony (people had stood over Wade, who was lying down on his back, and chanted something that sounded like 'eat away at his misfortune'), Wade is lying on the moth-eaten couch.

Peter stirs from the other side of the room where he's sleeping. Wade smiles, the skin that tears on his cheeks like dimples. He ignores the tears welling up at the pain; he's gotten used to it now.

"You should learn not to be giving him false hope," Bucky says from the corner. He's re-wrapping the bandages that are covering his stump of an arm. "You're dying. The only way to keep you from dying is to find the cure that few have found. Face it: you're practically dead already. The faster you realize that you can't stop it, the faster he'll realize the same thing."

Wade frowns. "I don't want to crush all hope that he has."

"Hope is stupid," Bucky says plainly. "You should learn that, too."

—

Wade, of course, didn't listen. The day that they left on this most-likely-suicide mission, he could practically feel the veteran boring a hole through the back of his head.

They wore protective clothing, but Wade's skin still broke with every second that the spent under the gross heat of the sun.

On the third day of walking, one of his fingers flakes off.

Peter is sobbing, and he's just laughing. He should not be laughing, he tells himself. He should be bent over, throwing up, but his mind is probably just as gone as the finger.

—

By the fifth day, he can't walk.

"Peter," He coughs, and pulls what's left of his arm to touch the boy's baby face. "You know it's too late."

"Come on," Peter pulls his arm, which causes the skin at his shoulder to twist and peel, and he screams.

—

On the seventh day, Wade coughs up what looks like a rock.

He coughs and coughs and eventually he's coughing up bits of flesh and where the hell is all of this coming from?

Peter is exhausted; he can't sleep knowing that he could wake up and Wade would no longer exist.

Today, Wade knows. There's no way that he will survive through this.

So he stands, and he takes Peter in his stub-arms.

He smiles, tears not even coming anymore. Peter's face crumples.

"You can't leave me." He sobs and laughs and it's awful. "You can not die. i won't let... you... you can't..."

Wade shushes him. "Just let me have this one moment with you," Wade closes his eyes. "It might be my last."

"No." Peter says. "I will see you again."

Peter begins to sing.

I want to know
Where I can go
When you're not around
And I'm feeling down

—

By the eighth day, Peter wakes up alone.

He sits on the edge of a bridge. It's high, probably more than fifty feet, he thinks. It'd probably snap his neck if he falls now.

He lets go.

I will see you again.