and this

poor peanut

okay so I know my brain is fucking horrenduous for coming up with something so damn angsty but.

just hear me out.

Deadpool and Wolverine setting. Deadpool has a little sidekick, a teenager, and that's reader.

And then, you know, the Deadpool variant army scene happens. And it's not Peter. It's Ladypool breathing out "holy shit" and Kidpool screaming "that is fucking y/n!" while pointing at you.

And suddenly all weapons are on the ground, and Wade & Logan are just staring as nearly over 100 Deadpools surround you and start fussing over you.

Like full on grabbing you by the cheeks, pulling on your sleeves and checking for damage, asking a million questions about how you feel(something no Deadpool does very often). Full on crying down a river, Kidpool wailing and Dogpool whining and whimpering. Apologising a million times.

because, it turns out that Like Batman with Robin. Deadpool has a y/n in every universe.

But, sadly enough, all of them are dead by their own hand. Suicide. And he is the only Deadpool that still has his y/n, and he doesn't even know for how long.

FIRST PART OF THE FIC!

Marvel Rivals Self‑Aware AU: Gender-Swap 

As the Presence, they knew very little about you. What they did know, however, was far more unsettling—you possessed a near-omnipotent hold over reality itself.

Usually, that power manifested when you seized control of their bodies, bending their movements to your will. 

Apparently, that wasn’t the only thing you could do with them.

“A beard?” Emma Frost grunted incredulously, lifting her absurdly expensive hand mirror to inspect her reflection. “A beard?”

The White Queen—now, technically, the White King—tilted her chin, examining the sharp new angles of her face. Her pristine blonde bob was still perfectly styled, though now it curled neatly around a stronger jawline. Her leotard-like suit strained slightly against broader shoulders and newly defined muscles. Even her voice had deepened into a velvety baritone—still posh, still refined, still unmistakably Emma.

And, as she had so eloquently complained—

She had a beard.

Somehow, she seemed more offended by the facial hair than by the fact that her entire biological structure had been rewritten.

“What’s wrong with beards?” Tony Stark asked dryly, stroking his own with exaggerated pride. Thankfully, he remained the same gender—something he was insufferably smug about.

Emma snapped her mirror shut with a crisp click. “Emma Frost does not do beards, darling. Regardless of gender. My face is far too expensive to be anything less than flawlessly clean-shaven.”

She pinched the bridge of her new, sharper nose and muttered something distinctly unladylike under her breath.

“Well… at least I still look like myself,” Susan Storm offered with a light, slightly awkward laugh.

Her voice had deepened, though not dramatically. Her new form was still undeniably Sue—just with a flattened chest, subtly broader shoulders, and more chiseled features. She retained her lean build, her familiar poise. If anything, she looked like a parallel-universe variant of herself.

“You think we can find a way around this?” she asked, turning toward her husband.

Reed Richards was staring.

Not in alarm.

Not in scientific curiosity.

Just… staring.

“Reed?”

“I—I’m sorry, Susan,” he coughed, “But I’m afraid this… predicament… has awakened something unexpected in me.”

“What?” Sue blinked.

Ben Grimm snorted, crossing his massive rocky arms. “Is it because she’s Sue, or because she’s a man now?”

Reed went scarlet.

“What are you talking about?” Susan lifted an eyebrow slowly. “Reed?”

“Perhaps,” Reed began carefully, clasping his hands behind his back, “we should postpone searching for a cure. For purely scientific research purposes, of course!”

“Hey!” Johnny Storm cut in indignantly. “That’s my— uh—“ 

He paused mid-sentence, clearly unsure how to categorize the situation. “S-Sibling you’re talking about!”

No one acknowledged him.

Across the room, Tandy Bowen and Tyrone Johnson—better known as Cloak and Dagger—were handling things with considerably more grace.

They hadn’t been spared either.

Tandy’s golden hair was shorter now, her features sharper and her frame leaner but still elegant. Tyrone’s dreads fell longer around softened features, his face now heart-shaped with wide, expressive eyes and full pink lips. The darkness still clung to him—just… differently.

Tandy tilted her head, studying him before offering a sideways smile. “You look like a lovely girl, Ty.”

Tyrone glanced down at himself, flexed his fingers once, then shrugged with composed acceptance. “Thanks. You’re a handsome fella too, Tandy.”

His voice was softer now, smoother—but the edge remained.

While the situation was undeniably strange, they had endured enough impossible circumstances to be somewhat numb to reality rewriting itself. Dimensions folded. Gods interfered. Identities shifted.

As long as they had each other, they could endure.

“This feels so wrong…” Peter Parker muttered faintly.

His voice was lighter now—soft, feminine—and he stared down at his chest with an expression that bordered on existential dread.

The Presence hadn’t merely adjusted him. They had transformed him into a perfect mirror of another variant—visually identical to Spider-Gwen. The hairstyle. The build. The proportions. The whole thing.

Peter would have preferred a simple gender adjustment to this particular humiliation. 

“You’ll get used to it, mortal,” Loki drawled lazily. Or rather—Lady Loki.

She lounged against a nearby wall, looking thoroughly entertained. If anything, she seemed to be relishing the chaos. Unlike the others, she had slipped into new pronouns effortlessly, as though this were merely a wardrobe change.

Which, for her, it practically was.

Loki was no stranger to shifting forms—male, female, neither, both. Identity, to her, was fluid as smoke.

“Or you won’t,” she added with a smirk. “I do not particularly care.”

Peter shot her a weak glare.

Before he could muster a comeback, however—

A loud whooping sound erupted across the room.

“WOOHOO! Feast your eyes upon the unparalleled beauty that is Ladypool!”

Wade Wilson leapt onto a nearby table, striking an outrageous pose.

His new female form was clad in a modified version of his suit that accentuated every dramatic curve. A long blonde ponytail flowed from beneath his mask. Even with his now saccharine, higher-pitched voice, he somehow remained just as grating as ever. Possibly more.

“Wade! Get down from there right now!” Peter snapped, pointing accusingly.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Wade wagged a finger. “It’s Wadelina now, Spidey-Girl.”

Peter’s eye twitched. “Wade-whatever-you-think-your-name-is, get down here.”

‘Wadelina’ crossed her arms indignantly. “A lady like myself deserves proper respect.”

She then proceeded to release the loudest, most uncivilized burp known to mankind.

Silence fell.

Peter bristled.

Some things, it seemed, transcended biology.

Man or woman—personality would always shine through.

For better.