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Chimmy those Changas | One Shot

Deadpool x M!Reader (can be a continuation of deadly indifference)

The two of you found a nearby food truck, the enticing aroma of freshly cooked food wafting through the air. You stood in line, Deadpool tapping his foot impatiently.

“Hurry up, people! I’ve got a captive here,” he called out, earning confused looks from the other customers.

Finally, it was your turn. You both ordered chimichangas and found a nearby bench to sit on while you waited for your food.

Deadpool unwrapped his chimichanga with reverence. He eyed as if it was the Holy Virgin herself. He took a big bite and sighed in contentment. Or maybe he just horny for the food.

“Nothing like a good chimichanga to make a shitty day better.”

You took a bite of yours, the flavors exploding in your mouth. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Deadpool exclaimed, bits of food flying from his mouth. “These are the best chimichangas in the city! Show some respect.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud bang, and the food truck exploded in a ball of fire. You and Deadpool were thrown from the bench, landing hard on the pavement.

“What the hell?” you muttered, trying to catch your breath.

Deadpool jumped to his feet, scanning the area. “Looks like someone’s trying to kill you again. And I don’t like it.”

From the smoke and debris, a group of heavily armed mercenaries emerged, their weapons trained on you and Deadpool.

“Great,” you sighed, picking up your chimichanga and taking another bite. “I just wanted to eat in peace.”

Deadpool drew his katanas, a manic grin on his face. “Guess it’s showtime. Stay close, buddy.”

You rolled your eyes but continued munching on your chimichanga, barely paying attention to the chaos unfolding around you.

Deadpool launched into action, dodging bullets and slicing through the mercenaries with efficiency. Making their bodies squirt blood all over your shoes.

You sat back down on the bench, taking another bite of your chimichanga. Despite the explosions and gunfire, you couldn’t help but appreciate the flavors. “Not bad at all,” you mumbled to yourself.

It kinda sucked that the truck exploded but it is what it is.

One of the mercenaries approached you, weapon raised. You glanced up briefly, sighed, and went back to your food. Deadpool, noticing the danger, threw a knife with pinpoint accuracy, taking the mercenary down before he could get a shot off.

“Jerk,” you said around a mouthful of food, not looking up.

“No problem, sugarplum,” Deadpool called back, his voice cheerful as he disarmed another attacker. He cackled at your disgust for the pet name. “Enjoying your chimichanga?”

“It’s good,” you replied. “Though I can feel the spice crawling up my ass crack.”

Deadpool laughed, slicing through two more mercenaries. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Are your testicles tingling?”

As the fight continued, you found yourself almost enjoying the absurdity of the situation. Despite the chaos around you, you felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the good food or Deadpool’s relentless banter, but for the first time in a while, you weren’t complaining.

A mercenary lunged at you, and Deadpool quickly intervened, dispatching the attacker with a swift move. He then plopped down next to you, breathing heavily but grinning, his mask showing his lower face.

“You know, for someone who’s sucidal as fuck you have been having multiple opportunities in the past… ten minutes.”

You shrugged, taking another bite. “I’ve decided.” Your eyes locking with his.

“I want you to kill me.”

Deadpool chuckled, leaning back on the bench. “Rightttt.” He quickly took a bite of your lunch making you scrunch your face.

“Good luck with that.”

“For real” you admitted. “You’re a dick.”

Deadpool nodded sagely. “A wise man once told me. ‘You are what you eat’.”

You rolled your eyes. “How inspirational.”

As the last of the mercenaries were dealt with, Deadpool stood up, offering you a hand. “Alright, pal, let’s get out of here before more show up.”

You took his hand, finishing the last of your chimichanga. “Lead the way, piss boy.”

“Piss boy?”

“It’s your pet name .”