When the bright, teenaged superhero Peter Parker meets Wade Wilson, an adult mercenary with dark humor, how will things go for the webslinger when obstacles block them from loving eachother?
DEADPOOL x SPIDERMAN.
Began: 8/23/2019 (August 23rd, 2019)...
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↱ Wade Wilson.
Once I finished putting my bedsheets in the washer, I decided to go scope the lands, aka.. the city...
I cleaned myself up a bit before putting on my suit, struggling with the entire thing. Once I adjusted my pouches and holes, sorry that came out wrong.. or did it?
Anyway, I put on my mask and patted it down then exited my humble abode.
I swung onto the usual building I go to to see Peter, just staring straight ahead. "Hey, my favorite webster!" I chirped, slinging my arm around his shoulder.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" I said, following his gaze to just the clouds.
"Wade.. t-t-the news knows about u-us." he sobbed, I immediately ripped off his mask, knowing he was crying.
And there he was, looking up straightly at the sky, tears now streaming down his face. I grabbed his head and lowered his head to face me, then I held his face in my gloved hands, his eyes puffy.
"What do you mean, babyboy?! They can't- we-.. we've been so secretive." I said, and his eyes slightly darkened by a bit.
He slammed my hands down, grabbing his mask from my hands, and he looked at me directly, "Really?! Does kissing me in front of all the citizens count as being secretive?! Does holding my waist in public count as being secretive?! Does fucking in the Avengers tower and being noisy count as being secretive?! Gosh, Wade! Sometimes I really hate you." he yelled at me and said.
I gulped, speechless at his rant. He... hates me? This is exactly the opposite of what I wanted.
I don't know what came over me when I fell for him.
I grabbed one of my knives from my pouch, and swung it into his leg, and he was shocked by my action, dodging it.
But then with my other hand I dug another knife into his leg, blood coming out from his suit.
"Hope you're like a cat and can land on your feet and have nine lives." I chuckled bitterly, grabbing him by the injured leg and swinging him off the tall building.
Without another look, I walked back to my apartment, sometimes I regret even going outside.
Once I arrived in my apartment, I got inside and locked the door. I immediately took off my suit, and took off my mask, finally my gloves.
I stopped, about to take off my gloves, when I saw Peter's blood still soaking into my black gloves.
For once, that completely broke me. Fucking hell! I just killed him and it's all my fault! Motherfucking asshole dickhead you sick fuck go die in a fucking ditch, no one would care about you anyway.
Tears rolled down my face as I took off my gloves, then walked to my kitchen, opening my cabinet and getting tons of bottles of alcohol.
Drink 'til it kills me right?
Oh right, I can't.
No matter how hard I try, I can't fucking die. How does this feel familiar?
The shit! I really am the worst person on this world.
